Aziraphale opens his mouth and closes it again. This, this is what he was afraid of, what he's always been afraid of when it comes to children, even really wonderfully intelligent and courteous ones, even the ones (the singular one, if we're being quite honest) that he's come to love. They ask questions. Really difficult unanswerable questions. It's like all humans, but worse, because children still expect answers. Most adults know better.
The question is awful because he doesn't know how to answer it, any answer might be a lie, and because it forces him to wonder as well, about that great hulking elephant in the corner that he's been so desperately trying to ignore. Crowley would never, he says to himself, he saw the way Crowley was with her the other day, when he'd been invisible, he knows Crowley cares about her even if he won't admit it to his silly demon self.
But Crowley's already been made to do things he would never have done under different circumstances. If it came down to it, if Lucifer learned about Melanie and forced Crowley to make some kind of grotesque choice - Melanie or Aziraphale - would he choose right?
Aziraphale swallows with difficulty. He must say something. The first question is easier, at least.
"Crowley would never tell Lucifer about you," he says. "He's much cleverer than that. He's very clever, really. He and I will find some way to get him out of this, this contract, you'll see."
He hasn't answered the second question, and he's smart enough to notice that.
"If..." He looks down for a moment, his hand still resting heavy on her shoulder. "I don't know what he would do," he admits finally, defeated. "I can only hope that he would resist. That this is where he'd draw the line."
He doesn't want to think about that. There's no way that would not end with Crowley dead, and he can't bear the thought of that.
"I have promised to protect you, and he... even if he doesn't show it, exactly, he does care about you, and... about me, what I want." There's an uncomfortable twist in his gut; saying this feels abhorrent, dissonant, unfair conjecture. Crowley doesn't care about things. That's not what demons do. There isn't really a word for what Crowley feels about Aziarphale, and Aziraphale doesn't want to think about it anyway, because then he'd have to think about what he feels for Crowley and it's all a big horrible mess. He tells himself, this is how he's phrasing it for Melanie. So she can understand.
"I have trusted him for many years," he says, which is... mostly true. "I have to keep trusting him, even now."
no subject
The question is awful because he doesn't know how to answer it, any answer might be a lie, and because it forces him to wonder as well, about that great hulking elephant in the corner that he's been so desperately trying to ignore. Crowley would never, he says to himself, he saw the way Crowley was with her the other day, when he'd been invisible, he knows Crowley cares about her even if he won't admit it to his silly demon self.
But Crowley's already been made to do things he would never have done under different circumstances. If it came down to it, if Lucifer learned about Melanie and forced Crowley to make some kind of grotesque choice - Melanie or Aziraphale - would he choose right?
Aziraphale swallows with difficulty. He must say something. The first question is easier, at least.
"Crowley would never tell Lucifer about you," he says. "He's much cleverer than that. He's very clever, really. He and I will find some way to get him out of this, this contract, you'll see."
He hasn't answered the second question, and he's smart enough to notice that.
"If..." He looks down for a moment, his hand still resting heavy on her shoulder. "I don't know what he would do," he admits finally, defeated. "I can only hope that he would resist. That this is where he'd draw the line."
He doesn't want to think about that. There's no way that would not end with Crowley dead, and he can't bear the thought of that.
"I have promised to protect you, and he... even if he doesn't show it, exactly, he does care about you, and... about me, what I want." There's an uncomfortable twist in his gut; saying this feels abhorrent, dissonant, unfair conjecture. Crowley doesn't care about things. That's not what demons do. There isn't really a word for what Crowley feels about Aziarphale, and Aziraphale doesn't want to think about it anyway, because then he'd have to think about what he feels for Crowley and it's all a big horrible mess. He tells himself, this is how he's phrasing it for Melanie. So she can understand.
"I have trusted him for many years," he says, which is... mostly true. "I have to keep trusting him, even now."