angel451154

“Are you alright?” [Crowley] said. “You seem a bit… out of it.” (Or: intrusive thoughts and crowded restaurants aren't a good mix. A fic about Aziraphale with OCD; see description for warnings.) --- “Angel?” Aziraphale startled, clattering his fork against his plate. “Yes, my dear?” he said hurriedly as he sat up straight in his chair. “I’m so sorry, I must have drifted away for a moment. What was it you were saying?” He tried to focus on Crowley, sitting at the opposite end of the table across from him. It was more difficult than he expected, like some part of his mind