[It's taking a considerable amount of restraint to not do any of those things, as much restraint as it's taking not to shift forms and hide under the couch because that would be easier than this open, honest discussion about feelings. It's an uncomfortable sensation, admitting this deep-seated fear. That he's not enough, that he won't ever be enough, because he wasn't enough for God.

But this is part of being together. It isn't just dates and sex and curling up on the sofa to read. They have to talk about these things, and they have to be honest. It helps that Aziraphale is being gentle with him, he smiles slightly at the kisses, lets his fingertips brush against his cheek.]

S'alright, you don't have to explain yourself to me, or apologize. Isn't like you did any of it on purpose. [That isn't something he needs, though he does appreciate the reassurance.] Probably didn't help that he's a bit like me, just with more gleeful murdering. [He sighs, pressing a kiss to Aziraphale's knee.] But — thank you. For understanding. Think I'm just a bit sensitive, really.