Crowley felt almost like he'd been discorporated. He couldn't feel pain any longer. He couldn't feel anything. It was like flying through a cloud.
Worry about yourself for once.
Had he not been? He supposed he had been worrying more about other people lately. Aziraphale and Belial and John, oh my. When had the switch happened? He hadn't even noticed it at the time.
Worry about that Principality you could be Felling.
Aziraphale wasn't going to Fall. He wasn't manipulating anyone. Wasn't lying. Wasn't yelling at people. He wouldn't Fall, right? Were true angels an endangered species now?
You can't even keep your angel safe.
But he had, hadn't he? He saved him from the bookshop and watched over him in hospital. Crowley had been the one dropped on his head, concussed, punched in the jaw, threatened at flaming swordpoint twice, and slapped. If it happened to him, it wouldn't happen to Aziraphale. He hadn't even told the angel about half the injuries he'd sustained at the Manor while investigating the bookshop fire. If he wasn't safe here, he wasn't safe anywhere.
And yet. For all his screaming, Raphael had healed the damage he did to Crowley's body. At least Crowley thought so. Did that mean he really didn't want to Fall? Well, who did? But he sure had been acting like it lately. Crowley had tried warning him, threatening him, tried logic, even physical restraint and the angel hadn't shown any signs of being just that anymore. And then this. For all his issues, he still could show moments of grace. Crowley could only hope it would be enough.
And watch your language.
He started to laugh weakly. It hurt, but he couldn't help it. It was as if a bubble had burst in his chest where Raphael touched him and the laughter was seeping out. He didn't care what Michael did, said, or thought. He was just going to lay here and laugh. Had the world always been so bizarre and had he just never noticed before? Watch your language indeed...
no subject
Crowley felt almost like he'd been discorporated. He couldn't feel pain any longer. He couldn't feel anything. It was like flying through a cloud.
Worry about yourself for once.
Had he not been? He supposed he had been worrying more about other people lately. Aziraphale and Belial and John, oh my. When had the switch happened? He hadn't even noticed it at the time.
Worry about that Principality you could be Felling.
Aziraphale wasn't going to Fall. He wasn't manipulating anyone. Wasn't lying. Wasn't yelling at people. He wouldn't Fall, right? Were true angels an endangered species now?
You can't even keep your angel safe.
But he had, hadn't he? He saved him from the bookshop and watched over him in hospital. Crowley had been the one dropped on his head, concussed, punched in the jaw, threatened at flaming swordpoint twice, and slapped. If it happened to him, it wouldn't happen to Aziraphale. He hadn't even told the angel about half the injuries he'd sustained at the Manor while investigating the bookshop fire. If he wasn't safe here, he wasn't safe anywhere.
And yet. For all his screaming, Raphael had healed the damage he did to Crowley's body. At least Crowley thought so. Did that mean he really didn't want to Fall? Well, who did? But he sure had been acting like it lately. Crowley had tried warning him, threatening him, tried logic, even physical restraint and the angel hadn't shown any signs of being just that anymore. And then this. For all his issues, he still could show moments of grace. Crowley could only hope it would be enough.
And watch your language.
He started to laugh weakly. It hurt, but he couldn't help it. It was as if a bubble had burst in his chest where Raphael touched him and the laughter was seeping out. He didn't care what Michael did, said, or thought. He was just going to lay here and laugh. Had the world always been so bizarre and had he just never noticed before? Watch your language indeed...