"Sssorry," Crowley manages, tripping over his sibilants. "Sorry."
He's aware that - he can't quite get his voice to sound contrite, not when Aziraphael is doing that, that humming thing he does, that - yes, that. So when he's certain, after the first few moments, that his reflexes are (more or less) under control, he cards his fingers apologetically through Aziraphael's hair.
Deep breath, almost steady.
"Sorry," he says again.
This one's a lot closer to a sigh; low, contented, and warm, so warm. It's so warm.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2008-12-25 11:04 pm (UTC)He's aware that - he can't quite get his voice to sound contrite, not when Aziraphael is doing that, that humming thing he does, that - yes, that. So when he's certain, after the first few moments, that his reflexes are (more or less) under control, he cards his fingers apologetically through Aziraphael's hair.
Deep breath, almost steady.
"Sorry," he says again.
This one's a lot closer to a sigh; low, contented, and warm, so warm. It's so warm.