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    Summary

    “Anyway, enough about me, how long have you two been a couple?” Gabriel asked after a long monologue that Crowley couldn’t recall, even if his life depended on it.

    Crowley’s mind reeled, struggling to process the question. He glanced at Aziraphale, whose face was slowly turning various shades of pink, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

    “Oh, we're not—” Aziraphale began to stammer. “We are not a couple, just friends.” He finally finished, striking the proverbial knife in Crowley’s heart.

    Ever oblivious, Gabriel chuckled. “Maybe he could be good for you, Aziraphale. You surely could benefit from his influence.” He said, eyes clearly in the direction of Aziraphale’s stomach, encased in an old-fashioned tan waistcoat for the evening.

    Aziraphale let out a laugh that sounded forced and uncomfortable. “Oh, only if we weren't incompatible.”

    Crowley felt a pang in his chest. What was that about? The words cut deeper than he cared to admit, but he masked it with a nonchalant grin.

    Language:
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