(Untitled)

[ineffable_angel]

Date: February 1st, 2001
Setting: Tadfield Manor, outside of the hospital wing.
Status: Private - Aziraphale, Crowley.
Summary: Aziraphale is in the Manor. So is Crowley.

Comments

[anthony_crowley]

He'd tried. Every day for nearly a week, Crowley had drawn on his still limited strength to try to heal the significant damage done to his wings, but he hadn't managed to do much good. In fact, this particular day, his concentration had slipped and he'd ripped off a scab before healing the wound beneath which only caused him to bleed heavily all over the duvet and weaken him further

[ineffable_angel]

It's true; the shock of the familiar - so incredibly familiar, two, three months seemed nothing - face made him freeze, unnecessary breath catching. Then Crowley moved away, and Aziraphale realized, suddenly, that he was going to leave, and reacted, moving forward with a hand outstretched, as if to catch his sleeve.

"No, wait-!"

He could not let this - any - opportunity pass.

[anthony_crowley]

Crowley jerked his arm away, still uncomfortable with being touched - much more so by the one creature he'd always craved it from. How did one go from intimate touches to none at all?

"Piss off, Aziraphale," he muttered. "You're good at that."

[ineffable_angel]

His heart sunk, when he felt the abrupt yank out of his hands, before he'd even grasped the slightest dark thread.

It was funny that they said that some truths, when spoken, could make you feel like you were being stabbed. That was a truth, too, he discovered now.

"My dear," he said quietly, his face stricken. "I would that we would have a conversation."

His voice quieted further.

"Please."