Ohhh goodness, Secret Author, I love this story. I'm terribly sorry for catching up this late, life has flung a pile of unescapable trivialities at me that simply wouldn't do with disregarding.
But this was such a wonderful thing to discover once I came back! The subtle ways and hints in which it's obvious that Aziraphale already cares very much, the way he knows just what to do to draw Crowley out of his burrow, all of it exquisite! And I loved the historical setting, I'm always weak for France-oriented stories ❤️
Some of my favourite parts:
...
“Can't, too depressed,” Crowley yawned beneath the duvet. “What did the Colonists break this time?” –– this is just so. Damn. Relatable.
...
“No,” said Aziraphale, in irritation, snatching the dove-grey ribbon, pressing it on him, “but you’re an instigator, you—you old serpent.” He ignored Crowley’s strident nonverbal protests as he wrangled him to the edge of the mattress, bedclothes in tow. “Fix your hair, Crowley, and get dressed.”
–– I love how they are practically wrestling and yet this is nowhere near to what would be expected from a "fight" between an angel and a demon ❤️
...
“You’re a vision—” Aziraphale bit his treacherous, overeager tongue “—of gentility. Quite serviceable.”
–– I see you, Aziraphale, you're not fooling anyone. Also, shapely calves, mmm, that's surely an observation of sheer serviceability.
...
And this, this entire passage is just utterly wonderful, I don't even have words:
Aziraphale took the case out of Crowley’s hand, setting it aside. “The frames are made of brass,” he explained, keenly aware he’d tripped into a nervous ramble. “See the maker’s mark, there? I’m rusty when it comes to seal script, alas. Not as ornate as they come, but those rivets should—”
Crowley unfolded the glasses’ arms and slid them reverently onto his face, stealing Aziraphale’s breath.
“Smoky quartz with no inclusions,” he said, fingering one lens-edge. “You really shouldn’t have.”
“Worth every penny,” said Aziraphale, vehemently, “if they get you out of the blasted bed.” He ought to have been disturbed by his fleeting notion of wanting to keep Crowley in it.
“You’re turning tempter, you know,” said Crowley, turning away from the mirror, poking Aziraphale in the chest with a much less tentative index finger than Aziraphale had used on him. “It’s unseemly.”
“Then forgive me,” Aziraphale said, offering Crowley his arm in challenge. “If you have it in you.”
...
And all of it is just written in such a beautiful way. My dear Author, I couldn't imagine a lovelier gift, thank you! ❤️❤️❤️
no subject
But this was such a wonderful thing to discover once I came back! The subtle ways and hints in which it's obvious that Aziraphale already cares very much, the way he knows just what to do to draw Crowley out of his burrow, all of it exquisite! And I loved the historical setting, I'm always weak for France-oriented stories ❤️
Some of my favourite parts:
...
“Can't, too depressed,” Crowley yawned beneath the duvet. “What did the Colonists break this time?”
–– this is just so. Damn. Relatable.
...
“No,” said Aziraphale, in irritation, snatching the dove-grey ribbon, pressing it on him, “but you’re an instigator, you—you old serpent.” He ignored Crowley’s strident nonverbal protests as he wrangled him to the edge of the mattress, bedclothes in tow. “Fix your hair, Crowley, and get dressed.”
–– I love how they are practically wrestling and yet this is nowhere near to what would be expected from a "fight" between an angel and a demon ❤️
...
“You’re a vision—” Aziraphale bit his treacherous, overeager tongue “—of gentility. Quite serviceable.”
–– I see you, Aziraphale, you're not fooling anyone. Also, shapely calves, mmm, that's surely an observation of sheer serviceability.
...
And this, this entire passage is just utterly wonderful, I don't even have words:
Aziraphale took the case out of Crowley’s hand, setting it aside. “The frames are made of brass,” he explained, keenly aware he’d tripped into a nervous ramble. “See the maker’s mark, there? I’m rusty when it comes to seal script, alas. Not as ornate as they come, but those rivets should—”
Crowley unfolded the glasses’ arms and slid them reverently onto his face, stealing Aziraphale’s breath.
“Smoky quartz with no inclusions,” he said, fingering one lens-edge. “You really shouldn’t have.”
“Worth every penny,” said Aziraphale, vehemently, “if they get you out of the blasted bed.” He ought to have been disturbed by his fleeting notion of wanting to keep Crowley in it.
“You’re turning tempter, you know,” said Crowley, turning away from the mirror, poking Aziraphale in the chest with a much less tentative index finger than Aziraphale had used on him. “It’s unseemly.”
“Then forgive me,” Aziraphale said, offering Crowley his arm in challenge. “If you have it in you.”
...
And all of it is just written in such a beautiful way. My dear Author, I couldn't imagine a lovelier gift, thank you! ❤️❤️❤️
(And Happy Holidays!)