Aziraphale's attempt at controlling the conversation, as well as whatever he had passing for a poker face slipped into a far off expression. A girlfriend of five years and no mention of her from Anthony directly. He'd be suspicious of the truth of it if he hadn't seen it plenty of times before. Very easy to lie by omission. Also easy to get caught up in something/one new and different and forget you had commitments at home. ...Well, then. There was that.
Truthfully, he didn't know Anthony well enough to be devastated in one regard, but he could be utterly heartbroken over the possibility of what might have been. Which was enough, really. Aziraphale would probably have a frustrated cry over it later in the privacy of his own home.
But something deep and sour and familiar sunk into his gut and stuck. It was more than just that disappointment. More than I feel like there's something between Anthony and I, and I wanted a chance to explore that connection.
He didn't like what Crowley was saying. Shuffled down the aisle faster than he could say no. Children before he's even realized what's happened. That didn't speak to choice. That spoke of obligation. Of expectations. Of trying not to be the disappointment just to appease a family who thought they knew what was best and was going to impose it upon Anthony whether he agreed to it or not. It was exactly what Anthony had told him that afternoon over crepes when everything felt fragile and truthful.
And maybe he loved the girlfriend. Aziraphale believed that could easily be the case. Five years was a long time to be with someone, so of course he did. Maybe all he would ever be to Anthony was a friend. But as his friend, Aziraphale felt Anthony shouldn't be forced to make these decisions and re-position his life because some blunt force like Crowley or Evelyn or whoever came in to tell him to do so.
"I understand that this is the shovel talk after all," he said, rising angrily to lean over the table, schooling his voice into something that was barely contained. People were noticing. He was making a scene. This was going to end badly, embarrassingly for all and yet he was swept up in it and couldn't bring it back down. "I understand you're on a misguided mission to 'babysit' a grown man and force him to make decisions about who he is allowed to be friends with and what he does with his life. Do you understand that, Crowley? I'm not playing a game, here--you all are. Maybe that's why he left--to get away from this overbearing governing of his life. Anthony is an adult. Let Anthony decide if he marries her."
no subject
Truthfully, he didn't know Anthony well enough to be devastated in one regard, but he could be utterly heartbroken over the possibility of what might have been. Which was enough, really. Aziraphale would probably have a frustrated cry over it later in the privacy of his own home.
But something deep and sour and familiar sunk into his gut and stuck. It was more than just that disappointment. More than I feel like there's something between Anthony and I, and I wanted a chance to explore that connection.
He didn't like what Crowley was saying. Shuffled down the aisle faster than he could say no. Children before he's even realized what's happened. That didn't speak to choice. That spoke of obligation. Of expectations. Of trying not to be the disappointment just to appease a family who thought they knew what was best and was going to impose it upon Anthony whether he agreed to it or not. It was exactly what Anthony had told him that afternoon over crepes when everything felt fragile and truthful.
And maybe he loved the girlfriend. Aziraphale believed that could easily be the case. Five years was a long time to be with someone, so of course he did. Maybe all he would ever be to Anthony was a friend. But as his friend, Aziraphale felt Anthony shouldn't be forced to make these decisions and re-position his life because some blunt force like Crowley or Evelyn or whoever came in to tell him to do so.
"I understand that this is the shovel talk after all," he said, rising angrily to lean over the table, schooling his voice into something that was barely contained. People were noticing. He was making a scene. This was going to end badly, embarrassingly for all and yet he was swept up in it and couldn't bring it back down. "I understand you're on a misguided mission to 'babysit' a grown man and force him to make decisions about who he is allowed to be friends with and what he does with his life. Do you understand that, Crowley? I'm not playing a game, here--you all are. Maybe that's why he left--to get away from this overbearing governing of his life. Anthony is an adult. Let Anthony decide if he marries her."