With all his years, Aziraphale knew himself to be considered cute, coquettish and possibly a little disarming--but if he could have heard Anthony's adoration of him, there would be no surviving it. He wasn't classic or beautiful in any way; no man would be so enchanted as to cross seas for his smile. He was peculiar and frumpy. Yet Anthony looked at him as if Aziraphale had, if not hung the stars, was surely made from stardust. As if he was something to look at with love. And Aziraphale's heart glowed with something between new infatuation, puppy-love, and a deep, unyielding kind of love. It was like nothing he had ever experience before.
Even though he had requested it, Aziraphale watched Anthony cross the room to him with a held breath. The saunter and sway was enticing, but so was the way he carried himself, like a dashing knight here to assist his lady fair.
"Flatterer," he said with a blush and his heart glowed all the more. The wine eventually opened with a pop that, though expected, startled an "Oh!" out of him, and he carried it and the empty glasses to where Anthony waited on the blanket.
"Anyway, if I recall, you had something else in mind when we first met." He handed Anthony a glass and settled comfortably across from him to pour the wine. Of course, he could have poured it at the table, and it might have been easier, but there was something intimate to looking up into Anthony's eyes, leaning in close, and serving him his drink.
The floor was not soft, even with the blanket, and Aziraphale took a moment to arrange himself into a comfortable position. "I assume it's rather difficult to notice any glowing qualities of your companion when you're accusing him of being a hitman."
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Even though he had requested it, Aziraphale watched Anthony cross the room to him with a held breath. The saunter and sway was enticing, but so was the way he carried himself, like a dashing knight here to assist his lady fair.
"Flatterer," he said with a blush and his heart glowed all the more. The wine eventually opened with a pop that, though expected, startled an "Oh!" out of him, and he carried it and the empty glasses to where Anthony waited on the blanket.
"Anyway, if I recall, you had something else in mind when we first met." He handed Anthony a glass and settled comfortably across from him to pour the wine. Of course, he could have poured it at the table, and it might have been easier, but there was something intimate to looking up into Anthony's eyes, leaning in close, and serving him his drink.
The floor was not soft, even with the blanket, and Aziraphale took a moment to arrange himself into a comfortable position. "I assume it's rather difficult to notice any glowing qualities of your companion when you're accusing him of being a hitman."