Oh, dear. There is that delightful tingle through his body again. He'd always fancied that Crowley liked swooping in and playing the hero for him, but to hear it confirmed, after years of seeing it in action, of daydreaming about it, of seeing it reflected back at him in plays and books and lyrics. Now he's hearing it from Crowley's own mouth and how storybook tragic it is to not see Crowley's eyes now, when even the lenses no longer shield him.
He wants to put a hand to Crowley's cheek and look up into those beautiful yellow eyes and feel his posture soften in Aziraphale's arms, and-- No, no. He shouldn't. He could never press his advantage like that.
I'm obviously the Kept Man here, he pouts, trying to remember the last time Crowley didn't pay for, or do a miracle for, one their outings. Aziraphale reserved the table at the Ritz, but that hardly counts. How could anyone insinuate he isn't the one being kept? The possibility of that argument derails a second later.
There's a lot to unpack from that description, but instead, Aziraphale chooses to focus for now on the nervousness in Crowley's eyes and steels his own bravery. They can resolve the rest later, in the privacy of one of their rooms, where an unguarded conversation won't be quite so exposed. Right now, he just has to be clear with Crowley for once.
"A cad?!" He wiggles with playful irritation and glares gently up at him. "How dare you sully the name of Mr. Fell like that! Playing? He has only the most honorable intentions for this attractive demon he's been trying to summon." A pause and Aziraphale adds quietly and with a shrug, "...Mostly honorable."
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He wants to put a hand to Crowley's cheek and look up into those beautiful yellow eyes and feel his posture soften in Aziraphale's arms, and-- No, no. He shouldn't. He could never press his advantage like that.
I'm obviously the Kept Man here, he pouts, trying to remember the last time Crowley didn't pay for, or do a miracle for, one their outings. Aziraphale reserved the table at the Ritz, but that hardly counts. How could anyone insinuate he isn't the one being kept? The possibility of that argument derails a second later.
There's a lot to unpack from that description, but instead, Aziraphale chooses to focus for now on the nervousness in Crowley's eyes and steels his own bravery. They can resolve the rest later, in the privacy of one of their rooms, where an unguarded conversation won't be quite so exposed. Right now, he just has to be clear with Crowley for once.
"A cad?!" He wiggles with playful irritation and glares gently up at him. "How dare you sully the name of Mr. Fell like that! Playing? He has only the most honorable intentions for this attractive demon he's been trying to summon." A pause and Aziraphale adds quietly and with a shrug, "...Mostly honorable."