A lot of Crowley is a tangle of frustrated yearning, and he can’t have Aziraphale, but maybe he can have something else. Kissing seemed like it’d be nice when it wasn’t a last desperate plea, tasting of tears more than anything else.
“I like plants.” Obviously. “Er, right, yeah. This way.”
He leads the way through a nearly invisible door to another room, this one looking like a meadow in the woods, the floor dotted with tiny wildflowers and the bed a dark grey hulk that looks nearly stone in the center.
Crowley stands awkwardly near it. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. Or his… anything.
no subject
“I like plants.” Obviously. “Er, right, yeah. This way.”
He leads the way through a nearly invisible door to another room, this one looking like a meadow in the woods, the floor dotted with tiny wildflowers and the bed a dark grey hulk that looks nearly stone in the center.
Crowley stands awkwardly near it. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. Or his… anything.