I miss the days of Aziraphale and Crowley ridiculously sharing half a brain cell. I miss Crowley being a clever, optimistic demon, gluing coins to sidewalks and messing with cell towers and the M25. I miss Aziraphale being a fussy, prim and oh so posh connoisseur of everything hedonistic, most especially Crowley.
I miss the days when thinking of them together wasn’t some complicated gymnastic exercise. When they had eternity. When they looked at each other with a fierce and protective love, because that’s what filled their unnecessary hearts.
I miss it.
























