Crowley tilts his head to study Aziraphale for a moment, his eyes speculative, wondering. It's such a curious thing to bring up in the first place--not at all the sort of thing a demon ought to go in for, probably rather ridiculous in the face of it. Imagine him a mum, coddling some little beast. A perfect hellion, it'd probably be, and Aziraphale would know exactly where it got that from. All right, Crowley has perhaps a little bit of fondness for kids, but that doesn't mean he ought to try parenting one.
Except. Except it's caught hold of him a bit, stuck under his ribs. "All right, then," he answers when Aziraphale kisses him and says to forget it, puzzled and, secretly, perhaps a little disappointed, but never mind, he'll soon turn his mind to other things. Crowley covers Aziraphale's hand where it rests over his heart, gazing at him, vulnerable with his eyes unconcealed and yet making no effort to hide them. He's an open book: whatever Aziraphale wants of him, he can have. "You know I'll make you happy," Crowley tells him softly, and his lips tug into a smile. "You'll wonder how you could've done without me."
"Oh, don't worry about that dear, I already do," he responds, one of his hands on Crowley's cheek. "Wonder what would have happened if you hadn't crawled up to me on the wall, or if you weren't the one who'd been stationed to Earth." He's certain for one thing, that he wouldn't have another in his bed right now, and wouldn't have another lay claim to his heart. But he does wonder if he would wander the Earth alone with the feeling that something was missing, a tugging on his soul that draws him to wherever Crowley is.
Perhaps he feels that way because they know each other, now.
But he can't even remember what it felt like before that. Even though he knows that he would have, before this assignment, sworn up and down that Crowley was his adversary and that they were enemies and all that sort of talk, he knows in his heart that should he have been pulled away at the time, that Aziraphale would have missed him terribly. He would've hated whoever replaced Crowley on principle, and also because he was supposed to hate whoever replaced Crowley on principle.
Regardless, he takes Crowley's hand and smooths it out so he can interlock their fingers. "You already make me happier than you know."
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Except. Except it's caught hold of him a bit, stuck under his ribs. "All right, then," he answers when Aziraphale kisses him and says to forget it, puzzled and, secretly, perhaps a little disappointed, but never mind, he'll soon turn his mind to other things. Crowley covers Aziraphale's hand where it rests over his heart, gazing at him, vulnerable with his eyes unconcealed and yet making no effort to hide them. He's an open book: whatever Aziraphale wants of him, he can have. "You know I'll make you happy," Crowley tells him softly, and his lips tug into a smile. "You'll wonder how you could've done without me."
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Perhaps he feels that way because they know each other, now.
But he can't even remember what it felt like before that. Even though he knows that he would have, before this assignment, sworn up and down that Crowley was his adversary and that they were enemies and all that sort of talk, he knows in his heart that should he have been pulled away at the time, that Aziraphale would have missed him terribly. He would've hated whoever replaced Crowley on principle, and also because he was supposed to hate whoever replaced Crowley on principle.
Regardless, he takes Crowley's hand and smooths it out so he can interlock their fingers. "You already make me happier than you know."