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Let's Go Home

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The Them were a rambunctious group, Aziraphale decided. Of course, they had stopped the Apocalypse, of their own prerogative, and they of course deserved the credit for that. But, well, being around children for more than a brief conversation when you weren’t used to it, especially such young, adventurous ones, was, well, exhausting. To put it mildly.

He did enjoy having a talk with the young witch Anathema and her boyfriend Newt, though. Even if Crowley hadn’t been quite able to sit in her lounge for more than a few moments without hissing in pain and excusing himself. Something about the horseshoes, he said.

Now, though, he was sitting on a swing outside, watching the Them run around playing some game Adam had invented. He hadn’t inquired too far into it, but he was half convinced he heard the words “horse” and “hell” and was thoroughly convinced that he did not want to know. Crowley had wandered off somewhere, so he was simply swaying back and forth slightly, wishing he had brought a book.

He felt the presence before he felt the arms, sidling up from behind and slightly to the left and wrapping around his shoulders, Aziraphale smiled and leaned back, resting his head next to Crowleys and closing his eyes, soaking in the warmth.

“Ello, angel,” Crowley muttered, just loud enough that Aziraphale could hear.

“Hello, my dear,” he whispered back, reaching his hand up to briefly drag it through Crowley’s hair, smile brightening at the way he leaned into the contact. It was just so nice to be able to just do things like that. “How’re you holding up?”

Crowley made a small, noncommittal noise. “Eh. Bit bored, really. They stopped with the interesting questions an hour ago, mostly just milling around now.”

“Yes, it does seem they’re entertaining themselves now,” Aziraphale said. He paused, a little unsure. No, he could just ask for things, now. “Do - do you think they’d miss us too terribly if we left? We can always come back later, and I’m feeling a bit peckish.”

“Nahhh,” Crowley said, standing up fully. His arms pulled away from Aziraphale’s, and for a brief moment he regretted asking to leave, “They’re doing their own thing, now. Dinner on me?”

“Oh, that sounds delightful, dear,” he said, standing up and looking one last time at the children. “What would you say to Italian?”