itwouldbeajoytobringyoutea



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  1. Public Bookmark 97

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    Crowley reaches up to touch the painting, to brush his fingertips along the lithe form of the woman’s bare arm, down the curve of her hip. He hums noncommittally.

    “You looked so lovely that day,” Aziraphale says, slipping an arm around Crowley’s waist and leaning his head against Crowley’s shoulder. Warmth seeps into Crowley everywhere they touch. “Of course, I always think you’re lovely.”

    Language:
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    31 Aug 2019

  2. Public Bookmark 44

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    It’s not that Crowley can’t read. He can, for a little while. It’s that he’s not quite built for it, something about the snake eyes and what not. They’re not meant for looking closely at little words in print. He squints, and it gives him a headache. He can read menus and street signs, sure, can fumble through the paperwork Hell’s bureaucracy sends him. But getting through a novel or a thick biography? It takes too long and his eyes start to swim.

    Aziraphale finds out.

    Language:
    English
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    1,447
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    44
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    21 Aug 2019

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    There was a certain look that Aziraphale wore occasionally—a pinched sort of moue that looked like he’d just taken a very large mouthful of cinnamon—which meant he thought Crowley was being ridiculous. He had put it on

    “Hang on,” he had said. “You want us to do human things?”

    *

    If you're going to go native, you might as well go all the way.

    Language:
    English
    Words:
    18,167
    Chapters:
    5/8
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    2
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    1460
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    21 Aug 2019

  4. Public Bookmark *

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    “I have standards,” Aziraphale huffed.

    “Don’t I know it,” Crowley sighed. And then, like he’d done it a hundred times before, he covered Aziraphale’s hand with his.

    Language:
    English
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    1,963
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    16 Aug 2019

  5. Public Bookmark *

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    "They’d been scheduled to meet on Tuesday, but Crowley hadn’t shown. He’d left a message, short and to the point, explaining that he’d had some things to do, and at any other time Aziraphale might have been offended at being stood up. But he wasn’t. Instead, he found himself worrying. He couldn’t name it, but things – in a general sense – weren’t as they should be. It was like looking at a design with the wrong dimensions, or an equation missing a crucial integer.

    Something about the way he'd looked...

    “Oh, honestly,” Aziraphale said to the empty room, and he reached up for his coat.

    Or:

    Crowley has an existential crisis. Aziraphale attempts to pick up the pieces.

    Language:
    English
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    1/1
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    16 Aug 2019