Chapter Text
“Michael?”
David’s voice makes him look up immediately, and then back down in embarrassment. He didn’t mean for anyone to see him crying, least of all David.
Michael wipes at his tears, taking care not to smudge his makeup on Aziraphale’s coat lest the wardrobe department have strong words for him that would make 1793 look tame. But he can’t help the emotion that overwhelms him.
“Hi,” he says, a warbly sound from the emotion caught in his throat.
David stands next to him, against a brick wall, in a part of the lot no one will see them in. He’s still wearing Crowley’s clothes and Crowley’s hair and Crowley’s glasses, but as soon as he takes them off, it’s David’s eyes that meet Michael’s gaze.
“What’s wrong?” David asks, his Scottish accent coming through.
Michael dabs at his nose with a handkerchief. “Just being silly.” He gestures to the side, to the set. “Just got caught up in it all.”
They had just kissed, for the first and only time. Michael doesn’t know what to make of it, the secret desire that he wished the film in the camera had caught fire so they could go again. Years he’d been longing for this, for the moment when he would finally get to pour all his love into a kiss with David—even if it was through a character—and then it was over so quickly.
The quiet guilt threatens to consume him. Guilt over his feelings for David. Guilt over what that means towards Georgia. Guilt over his deep love for Anna and the betrayal these feelings are.
He hears David clear his throat.
“I know,” the taller man says. “It was really quick in the end, wasn’t it?”
Michael looks up at him, surprise on his face and a searching look in his eyes. “Yes. You—you thought so too?”
David nods. “Course. Thought I’d miss your mouth entirely with the contacts and the glasses.”
“Ever the consummate professional,” Michael teases.
“Still,” David says, though he doesn’t elaborate.
Michael decides to go for it. “Thought we’d get to do that more,” he supplies.
He watches David’s adam’s apple bob and then he nods. It’s as much of a confession that they’re in this together as Michael thinks he’s going to get, and far more than he expected.
“Idiots, both of them, aren’t they?” David asks, asking about their characters.
“They love each other,” Michael says quietly.
“But they never say it.”
David turns his head so his gaze locks with Michael’s and the moment is heavy with unspoken words.
Michael holds his breath. He doesn’t know what to say, how much liberty to take, and all the guilt weighs down on him.
He’s silent too long, and David looks away, clearing his throat as color rises to his cheeks. “Better be getting back,” he says, though they both know that was the last scene. He claps Michael on the shoulder and walks quickly back towards the rest of the crew just around the other side of the building.
Michael takes a few minutes to compose himself before he goes back to set to change out of his clothes and head home to Anna.
As he walks in the house, he knows he has to talk to her. This feeling has gone on too long.
“Anna?” he calls quietly as he walks in the front door. It’s late by the time he gets home and he doesn’t want to wake their daughter.
When Anna comes around the corner and sees him in the entrance to their home, her smile falls. “What’s wrong?”
Michael swallows. His voice cracks when he speaks. “Can we talk?”
—
David gets home late after they wrap. He feels heavy, his feet dragging as the emotions of the day catch up to him.
Georgia meets him with a kiss and a glass of wine. “Hi, love. Congratulations.”
Half his mouth pulls up in a smile as he takes the glass and kisses his wife softly, a twinge of desperation coloring the kiss.
Georgia is smart. She picks up on it right away. Her brows furrow. “What’s wrong?”
David swallows hard. “Can we talk?”