#this is adorable af
This is a call out post for one Principality Aziraphale, Guardian of the Eastern Gate, Angel of the flaming sword:
If your demon boyfriend in shades steps on consecrated ground to save you from Nazis (or for any other reason tbh) you do the honorable thing and pick. him. up!
The Nazi scene where nothing changes except Crowley does the whole thing from Aziraphale’s arms.
@momuno@thesevenumbrellas I tried.
“Sorry, consecrated ground. Ah! It’s like…beingatthebeachinbarefeet!” Crowley hopped and tiptoed down the aisle, already feeling his skin blistering in his socks.
Aziraphale looked outraged. “What are you doing here?” he hissed.
“Stopping you from getting into troub–hEY!”
Aziraphale glowered at Crowley like he hadn’t literally swept Crowley off his feet and was now holding the demon in his arms. Crowley’s arms looped around Aziraphale’s neck instinctively, but the rest of him was stunned into stillness and silence.
“What are you doing on consecrated ground? You know what it does to you!”
“I. Um. How are you holding me like this?” Crowley looked down like he expected Aziraphale to be floating. “I’ve seen you try to run, you’re not exactly the most–”
“Don’t you change the subject on me!”
“Me?! You’rethe one who–!”
One of the Nazis cleared their throat. Crowley blinked - he’d completely forgotten they were there, too busy distracted by the ethereal flash Aziraphale’s eyes took on when he was truly irritated, and the disgustingly comfortable way he fit in the angel’s arms.
“I should have known, of course! These people are working for you,” Aziraphale accused him. They were almost nose-to-nose like this. (Satan bless sunglasses, because Aziraphale did notneed to know how intently Crowley was staring at his pursed lips.)
Crowley reared back in offense (and maybe to make Aziraphale’s hand press into his back just a little harder). “No,they’re a bunch of half-witted Nazi spies running around London blackmailing and murdering people! I just didn’t want to see you embarrassed–ANGEL!” he yelped as Aziraphale shook him (but never, Crowley noticed, wavered in his grip; not once).
“Consecrated. Ground. Crowley.”
“Imminent. Discorporation. Aziraphale,” Crowley snapped back.
Aziraphale refused to put Crowley down through the rest of the conversation.
Crowley never bothered to ask.
SOMEONE DID THE THING!!!!
