The Middle Distance

So, you now you'll just inevitably write every pairing from this fic, right? Right? *pirate puppy eyes*

I don't feel the need to reiterate that you are High Queen of Smut because that's just far too obvious. What I really feel the need to point out is how incredibly beautiful this is. It's candy for my brain. Pretty gourmet/designer chocolate candy fic, that's what it is. The wrist-grabbing switches always made my breath catch, for some reason. It's the little things with these two. Everything metapysical came off so gorgeously, I could just melt in it. Wrap myself up in its blanket-y goodness. Particarly, Crowley watched enraptured as light that should have burned him didn’t. Guh. Amazing.

And this: “Not…fair…”Aziraphale whispered, undone for a split second. “You didn’t lose your…beauty. Why?”

“I need it,” Crowley said. “I need it more than you do.”

-broke my damn heart. I got all snuffly and ridiculous. And then they get all funny on you again, and you just want them to be there bantering back and forth forever, but that's not entirely true because then we would teeter on the edge for too long, which is also cruel.

For whatever reason, I loved that you spelled out that Crowley has a self-editing mechanism. Despite the fact that he's the demon, I've always felt that he says what he means and wants far less than Aziraphale. If I'm making sense. Could be that Paris has mashed up my brain. ;) I loved Aziraphale laughing at the decor and the descriptions of the room were fall-off-your-chair hilarious. I also personally feel that to be fair, they must take turns tied to the mast. Yup. That seems good to me....