Aziraphale (![]() ![]() @ 2009-11-24 23:12:00 |
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Entry tags: | aziraphale |
WHO: Aziraphale and Crowley.
WHAT: Couple-y time. Discussing Zachariah.
WHEN: Evening.
WHERE: Their flat.
RATING: TBD.
STATUS: In Progress.
Aziraphale was lying on his side of the bed, reading a copy of the Commedia. Though scholars insisted that no original manuscripts of Dante's work survived, Aziraphale would have to disagree. He was, after all, reading from one just then. It wasn't his normal cup of tea, and by this he did not refer to the cup of tea on the nightstand so much as the figurative meaning of the phrase, but talking to his brother had made him uneasy and upset. He was secure in the knowledge that he was not going to fall, and that God allowed his relationship with Crowley, but his brother's scorn still made him feel uncomfortable. But then, he supposed that this was the role of family.
He sighed and set aside the book, closing his eyes. "It does not matter to me what he thinks," he said, as if it even needed to be said, "I had just forgotten that there are those who do not find it so easy to accept us...how I feel for you." Castiel and Anna, his dearest brother and sister, made it so easy. They were remarkably understanding, and did not pass judgment. And his Father accepted them, while the Metatron didn't seem to care either way. But most angels would not be so accepting. And he knew that. Still, there was a difference between knowing and experiencing. "But it does not change my feelings...just as I hope yours would not change, were Hastur or Ligur here to disapprove."