A moment slid by, as Aziraphale tried to breathe, and then great, shuddering sobs began to shake him, and he closed his eyes, tears coming and tracking down his cheeks, leaning against the smaller succubus. Any other would have found it ridiculous, and Aziraphale tried himself to stem the hot flow of tears, but he only- he only kept thinking about Crowley, and Crowley's hair, and sunglasses, and damned smirk, and the Bentley, and Chicago, and...
"It's not just- it's not just that," he choked, turning his face away and fumbling for his checkerboard handkerchief to wipe the salty tears away. "It's everyth- oh, fuck," and he clung to her, no doubt dampening anything she was wearing. He'd miracle it dry in a moment, he just needed but a moment...
Oh, and they were still in the hall. The angel made a monumentous effort to pull himself together, and stepped back, still dabbing at his eyes. "Oh, I'm sorry," he said helplessly, and then tried for a smile. "Would- would you like a cup of tea, or a biscuit? Anything? I- ignore my hysteria, my dear, I was overcome..."
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"It's not just- it's not just that," he choked, turning his face away and fumbling for his checkerboard handkerchief to wipe the salty tears away. "It's everyth- oh, fuck," and he clung to her, no doubt dampening anything she was wearing. He'd miracle it dry in a moment, he just needed but a moment...
Oh, and they were still in the hall. The angel made a monumentous effort to pull himself together, and stepped back, still dabbing at his eyes. "Oh, I'm sorry," he said helplessly, and then tried for a smile. "Would- would you like a cup of tea, or a biscuit? Anything? I- ignore my hysteria, my dear, I was overcome..."