look it's very dull and it's just the mortifying ordeal of being known
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08 Jun 2019
After everything, Aziraphale and Crowley, by unspoken agreement, begin sharing their lives.
Why? Aziraphale wanted to ask him, why millennia of the way things were, and now this?
But while Crowley seemed to have little issue upending every unspoken rule they’d ever written for themselves, Aziraphale was not so flexible, and they had spent thousands of years never quite addressing whatever it was this had stemmed from. Words, Aziraphale had always felt, were for bickering about where to eat for lunch, or hashing out ontological debates, or other trivial nonsense; there was no need to trifle with the imprecision of language, with phrasing and the possibility of being misconstrued, when it came to important matters if the other person simply understood, without needing it said. Six thousand years ago, when Aziraphale had met Crowley on the wall of Eden, watching the first two humans set out to begin the rest of history, something deep within him, more central even than his Grace, had thought, oh, it’s you, and that had been enough for him--for both of them, he assumed--for three millennia.
However much he wanted to ask, he didn’t know how. The words simply weren’t there.