[It's the shame that breaks his heart more than anything. He understands it, of course, not only from the perspective of someone who understands how awful and dangerous it can be to demonstrate any emotions, but knowing that Aziraphale needs to maintain control in a way that Crowley doesn't. The heart-breaking part is that it's only him, here, and the shame is still there.
But old habits die hard, and these are very, very old habits.]
Don't do that, don't apologize.
[The worry hasn't quite gone, but he doesn't think something has happened so much that something has needed to happen for a long time. The destruction is familiar in a way that aches. How many times has he torn his flat apart in a fit of hurt or anger that's too big for his body?
So he finishes crossing the room, pulling up a quick miracle as he does, creating a soundproof bubble around the both of them on both a physical and metaphysical level. It leaves him free to crouch down, to wrap his arms around Aziraphale's shoulders, to gentle tugging him into his chest.]
Let go, love, I've got you.
[How many times has Aziraphale wanted to scream and shout and cry about how unfair it is? Crowley can't imagine he ever allowed himself the freedom, because it's different for an angel.
A demon is allowed to be angry, to be destructive, to scream and throw things and summon down lightning with their fury, but angels are only allowed righteous anger. And Aziraphale doesn't think he has any right to his anger.
But maybe Crowley can give him permission to hold onto it, just for a moment.]
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But old habits die hard, and these are very, very old habits.]
Don't do that, don't apologize.
[The worry hasn't quite gone, but he doesn't think something has happened so much that something has needed to happen for a long time. The destruction is familiar in a way that aches. How many times has he torn his flat apart in a fit of hurt or anger that's too big for his body?
So he finishes crossing the room, pulling up a quick miracle as he does, creating a soundproof bubble around the both of them on both a physical and metaphysical level. It leaves him free to crouch down, to wrap his arms around Aziraphale's shoulders, to gentle tugging him into his chest.]
Let go, love, I've got you.
[How many times has Aziraphale wanted to scream and shout and cry about how unfair it is? Crowley can't imagine he ever allowed himself the freedom, because it's different for an angel.
A demon is allowed to be angry, to be destructive, to scream and throw things and summon down lightning with their fury, but angels are only allowed righteous anger. And Aziraphale doesn't think he has any right to his anger.
But maybe Crowley can give him permission to hold onto it, just for a moment.]