inlovewithmycar | open post

[ Crowley does jerk (well, more of a twitch), but not away. There is a delicious shiver that goes up and down his spine, and he feels compelled to lay his hand over Aziraphale's. Maybe give it the gentlest of squeezes.

This isn't how he expected this to go (if he ever had any expectations of it happening at all). He isn't sure how he'd picture it happening - probably with one or both of them shedding tears and a very serious conversation. Definitely with more than one glass of wine in either of them.

...Several bottles at least.

But other things have been easier after the failed apocalypse, so perhaps this is just an extension of that. No more hiding, no more pretending. He rather likes that last bit. ]

Likewise. Wouldn't dream of putting my name on anyone else's.

[A serious conversation will most definitely come later, along with those tears. But right now, Aziraphale is suddenly overwhelmed with a heady mixture of hope and joy. It pushes within him and makes him feel like he could float right up to the ceiling of his bookshop. His hand shakes between Crowley's knee and the comforting weight of Crowley's hand upon it.]

Good. That's good.

[He finishes off his second glass of wine without a thought and sets it on the table. His eyes catch sight of Crowley's pen.]

I want you to. Sign them, I mean, I just... I imagined I'd have a bit more wine inside me first.

[ Crowley gives an emphatic nod. ]

Can't fault your logic there - when it last happened we were, howshouldIputit, sloshed? Black-out blotto? I genuinely wish I could remember last night at all. Don't even remember sobering up.

[ Which might explain the hangover he had.

He picks up the pen and wiggles it back and forth between his fingers, brow arched suggestively. ]

So, now...? Or should we get through a few more bottles of this? Maybe run the tub, see if this thing can really write underwater.

[ It was surprisingly nice to talk about things like this. Without so much as the awkward discomfort he would have ever expected - just their usual back-and-forth that they had going since, well, The Beginning. ]

[Aziraphale shakes his head a little at the idea.]

I'd prefer not to drink that much. I don't want to forget this later. [He gives Crowley's knee a squeeze.] Although there is a silver lining to you not remembering, is there? You wouldn't have texted me about it, otherwise.

[He smiles, then outright laughs at the idea of running the tub.]

Would you like some sort of dramatic recreation of your trial? Or, ah... [He trails off, a blush on his face.] Well, a bath would be rather nice, wouldn't it? You ought to let me have another go at your pants, though. It's terribly unfair that neither of us remember it, now that I think about it.

[ Crowley nods. He isn't sure about Aziraphale, but he definitely wants a reasonably clear head if they were going to be down to their underthings. No chance of forgetting a second time. ]

A bath sounds incredible right now. You think your tub'll fit the two of us?

[ And the thought of Aziraphale doing a bit of drama in all his angelic glory? Absolutely splendid. Crowley always thought the angel had a secret penchant for theatrics that he never really got a chance to let loose.

He grins, bumping up against Aziraphale's shoulder. ]

And my pants are all yours. Could always sign the front too. So no one has any misconceptions about exactly who I belong to.

[Aziraphale gives Crowley a droll look, head tilted just so. If his bathtub wouldn't have fit the two of them before, it certainly does now.] Oh, I believe that it does. Although I might need to give it a bit of a sprucing up first.

[Performing stage magic had been Aziraphale's only outlet for such theatrics. He never got good at the sleight of hand part, but the spectacle? That he had down to a science.

Ducking his gaze, he smiles shyly and nudges Crowley back, simultaneously amused by the conversation and flustered over where it will eventually lead.]

I'll sign wherever you like, dear.

Really? You with your creature comforts, I'd thought your bath would be the one thing here that's always spruced.

[ It's easier, he thinks, to come at the crux of the matter like this. With smiles, and joking and innuendo.

Come at it sideways, or backwards, or anything but headlong because this thing between them is huge and hungry and daunting, growing half-starved for millennia. A slow approach. A gentle approach. Careful, cautious, but an approach nonetheless.

Crowley's arm moves from the back of the sofa and wraps around Aziraphale's shoulder,holding him the way he's wanted to for ages with the sort of careless, casual affection they could never get away with before. There had been eyes everywhere. Might still be there, but they cast their die and now they didn't have to give a solitary fuck who saw them. ]

[Aziraphale tenses under the weight of Crowley's arm -- a span of a breath -- and then cozies up quite comfortably underneath it. He has wanted this for so long, even before he could admit to himself the depth of his feelings, this simple gesture of affection. It was never allowed before, and in the time following Armageddon, it seemed nearly too daunting, taking that leap from best friends to -- to belonging to one another.

He tried sneaking up on it, tricking his anxieties with alcohol and playful banter. But he doesn't reach for his glass of wine now, even though he said he needed more of it. It'd dislodge Crowley's touch, and that's the last thing he wants.]

I haven't used it in a while, not since the Adam was born. I never knew when Gabriel might pop in, asking to purchase some pornography.[He rolls his eyes hard at that.] I've already been criticized about eating and running a bookshop, the last thing I needed was a lecture about relaxing in the bath.

[ He feels the tension spike in Aziraphale, and he's about to put his arm back over the side of the couch when it just as suddenly dissipates and suddenly Aziraphale is cuddled up quite comfortable to his side. Warm thinks the snake part of him. The rest; celestial, infernal, human - it all thinks this is it. Everything you've been searching for.

He was so caught up in the flood of emotions that he almost missed the little remark about Gabriel.

Stunned, Crowley let's out a sound that's somewhere between a scandalized squawk and a laugh; ]

He asked to purchase what?! Does... does he even - no. Don't answer that. I don't want to know.

[ Crowley considers what he just said. Never had there ever been a more blatant lie ]

No actually, I do want to know. Tell me everything because what - and I mean this in every possible way - the ever loving fuck does His Holiness the Archangel Effing Gabriel want with pornography?

[Aziraphale is always warm, but even more so cuddled up so delectably against Crowley. It's so nice, it's perfect. That feeling of floating up to the ceiling returns and he gives Crowley's knee another squeeze, as if to remind himself that it's all real, that they can have this.

Crowley's laughter makes him smile, as it always does, even if the topic himself has him letting out a sigh of annoyance.]

Oh, Crowley, it was utterly ridiculous. Gabriel and Sandalphon had dropped by to update me on Armageddon, and I suppose Gabriel was looking for a way to speak with me privately, so he asked to purchase some pornography -- very loudly, I might add -- in front of the humans there! It was terribly embarrassing, although I'm not sure he even knew what he was asking. Sandalphon supplied him with the term.

Edited 2020-03-11 17:38 (UTC)

Of course it was Sandalphon - oily prick.

[ Crowley tries for a dismissive and offhand sort of tone, but couldn't quite disguise the air of genuine resentment. He was never going to let what happened to Sodom and Gomorrah go. ]

Why not just ask to speak privately? You know, like normal people do? I come in and do that all the time. Not exactly hard. Bet they stood out like a pair of sore thumbs.

[ The squeeze to his knee prompts Crowley to rub Aziraphale's shoulder. It's less a massage, more of a comforting gesture - you poor thing, having to put up with such incompetence, let me take care of you. ]

[A look of distaste passes over Aziraphale's face and he lets out a quiet hum of agreement. Sandalphon took far too much pleasure in smiting humans for Aziraphale ever to feel comfortable around him.]

Oh, well... [He tenses slightly, even as Crowley's touch so tenderly massages out a few of those troubled aches.] I suppose on some level it was meant to show that Heaven can pop in on me whenever it likes and disrupt whatever I'm doing. That's how Gabriel has always been.

[ There is a low, dangerous sound that emanates from the depths of Crowley's throat, and his arm around Aziraphale tightens protectively.

He'd never liked the power-plays in Heaven. While he'd never been important enough to feel the brunt of it, he'd certainly heard things, and then, being around Aziraphale, heard more things (likely with a lot of details omitted, but the execution had shed enough light on matters). ]

Glad we gave them a dose of their own medicine then.

[ He grinned, as the tension in his arm relaxes a bit. ]

They won't be bothering you again any time soon. Plenty of time for as many baths as you like.

[That protective grip, combined with what can only be described as a growl, has Aziraphale's gaze rising to look up into Crowley's eyes. He'd gotten so used to how things worked in Heaven that he never thought twice about it. He certainly never expected someone to get upset on his behalf over it. And yet here is Crowley, doing just that. It makes him feel safe. Loved. Warm.

Suddenly feeling quite bold, he reaches up with his free hand and cups Crowley's face, lightly brushing his cheek with the pad of his thumb.]

Plenty of time for other things, too. I hope.

Edited 2020-03-11 21:25 (UTC)

[ Crowley finds his head tilted so that he and Aziraphale are nearly face-to-face. His earlier disgruntlement over Heaven is forgotten in lieu of this new development - a soft hand brushing his cheek as he feels warmth spreading up from his chest to his face and he knows - he knows he's flushed from the roots of his hair to the tips of his scaly toes - and this is it, moment of truth, standing on the precipice and ready to take the dive. Wouldn't be his first fall, but the landing - oh, the landing looked so soft. ]

Yeah - plenty.

[ He gives a small duck of his head, perhaps to agree, or perhaps to angle himself just so ]

...So we can take as much time as we need.

[ Crowley closes his eyes, screws his courage, and leans in, closing the last few inches between their lips. ]

[Aziraphale keeps his blue eyes -- patient, steady -- on Crowley's, up until the demon's lips are almost upon his, and then he flutters his lashes shut and gives himself over into a kiss. It is soft, but not chaste, his lips open just a touch, a wet heat between them, the taste of Malbec and whatever is uniquely Aziraphale.

It is everything he ever imagined, and so much more. He keeps his hand on Crowley's face, stroking his cheek, his jaw, brushing up into his hair that he's been longing to touch for millennia.]

[ Crowley could taste Aziraphale on the tip of his tongue, his nose and mouth flooded with the comforting scent of him, which spurs him to deepen the kiss.

The arm around Aziraphale's shoulder moves so Crowley can cup the back of his head, buried in those curls that are soft as goose down.

The sound he makes, muffled into Aziraphale's mouth, is pained and yearning, an echo of some soul-deep ache finally soothed by the hand on his cheek and in his wild hair. He dimly thinks of growing it out again, really give the angel something to grab onto.

Parting is brief, just enough so that Crowley can tug Aziraphale's bottom lip between his teeth and get a good look at his face.

He wants to preserve it in his memory like one might press a precious flower between the pages of a book. ]

Aziraphale -

[ His voice sounds thick, and feels like syrup in his throat as his other arm wraps around the angel's middle. ]

Fuck, I've wanted to do that for ages now.

[Aziraphale whines as the kiss deepens, echoing Crowley's yearning. He's at once both satisfied and craving more, like the first bite of a sweet delicacy, pressing himself into Crowley and knotting his fingers into silky red hair. His other hand slides up Crowley's leg and settles somewhere on his thigh.

There's another whine when the kiss ends, and then he's simply looking back at Crowley in pure adoration.]

Oh... oh, my darling. Me too.

[His gaze is soft, a touch pleading. Crowley believes him, doesn't he? They just had this conversation, he has to know that Aziraphale would have kissed him ages ago if not for Heaven's watchful eyes. The Arrangement was dangerous enough, but to be caught in such a compromising position by Gabriel or another archangel --

He pulls Crowley into another kiss, a little more frantic than the first, and pants upon the breakaway.

I love you so much, Crowley. For so long. Forgive me for waiting.

[ Darling. Oh how Crowley nearly cries at that. His eyes certainly aren't dry as he hauls Aziraphale into his lap, kissing him again; kissing his lovely mouth, his chin, his jaw, and sucking a bruise over his pulse, he finally manages to get his thoughts aligned. ]

Angel please, don't ask me that - there's nothing to forgive - not for trying to keep us safe -

[ There were hurts, old and new, inflicted by each other over the years - but they could talk about those another day. If Aziraphale was looking for forgiveness, then Crowley needed him to know he never doubted him. Whatever Aziraphale felt guilty about, Crowley had long since stopped taking too personally. ]

-Love you, Aziraphale. I know what was at stake too, so please -

[Aziraphale lets out a surprised oh! at being pulled into Crowley's lap, then settles without another thought, thighs bracketing Crowley's slim waist, arm wrapping around his shoulders. He tilts his neck back instinctively as Crowley works on a love bite, encouraging him to mark him up as he pleases, shivering at the sensation.

There is much to talk about, if not to forgive, then at least put into perspective. There are other things, too, like how much Aziraphale loved Crowley's hair throughout the ages, or how dashing he looked in that pinstripe suit when he rescued him from the Nazis. All those subtle glances and secretive smiles that Aziraphale replayed over and over, more valuable to him than any book or scroll in his bookshop.

But that can happen later. Right now, there is a warm, needy Crowley beneath him. He pets Crowley's hair and blinks back the tears in his eyes, smiling at him tenderly.]

All right. And it all worked out, didn't it?

[He kisses up along Crowley's jaw, to the shell of his ear.]

Shall we take that bath now?

[ Crowley busies himself a little longer with lavishing lovebites on what exposed skin he can get his mouth on before conceding that, in order to get to Aziraphale's tub, they'd have to briefly part.

It seemed like such a terrible sacrifice to make. For a good cause, yes, but he rather likes the warm weight of Aziraphale straddling his lap and certainly wouldn't mind if the angel could remain there indefinitely. He's about to say as much, but the breathy suggestion against his ear leaves him somewhat less eloquent than he'd like. ]

Hrrngh - !!!

[ ...Very dignified.

Crowley scrambles to salvage some semblance self-respect, and finding none, he settles for being relatively coherent. ]

Bath - right. Yes. Excellent idea. ...Which we talked about before. Y'know, I don't actually think I've ever seen your bathroom?

[ Or rambling, that works too. ]

[There's a soft chuckle from the angel and then he's sliding off of Crowley's lap, standing up and absently smoothing out his waistcoat. Still buttoned-up, but disheveled around the edges, love bites visible above the collar of his shirt, his bowtie slightly askew and wrinkles in the rest of his clothes.

He's never looked happier.]

Here, let's get you up.

[He holds a hand out for Crowley, intent on pulling him close once he's on his feet. At the last moment, he picks up the pen from the table and tucks it back into Crowley's pocket.]

Mustn't forget this, my dear. You haven't seen any of the flat upstairs, have you? I've used it so rarely, anyway, it doesn't matter.

[ There's another very undignified sound when Aziraphale leaves the dubious comfort of his bony lap, but Crowley finds the sudden loss quickly alleviated when he's pulled flush to the angel.

Yeah, that was definitely good too. ]

Two hundred and twenty years you've had this place, you'd think I'd have found some excuse to poke around your upstairs by now.

[ No, he wasn't keeping track of how long Aziraphale had the shop because he liked buying little anniversary gifts, he was just very good at remembering things, why do you ask.

He wraps an arm around Aziraphale's shoulder, giving him an affectionate squeeze. ]

Lead the way, angel. My curiosity may actually discorporate me.

You would have been very bored if you had. It's mostly just books that I couldn't find a home for elsewhere.

[He tries to keep his voice casual, but it's impossible with Crowley wrapping his arm around him, a reminder that they can do this, simply touch one another with affection without pretense or excuse. Unable to resist, he kisses Crowley, wiggling his hips a little from the sheer joy of it.]

Well, we can't have that, now can we? I'm very fond of your corporation.

[With another pleased shimmy, he leads Crowley to a narrow staircase that provides access to the second floor. Upstairs is a flat that looks relatively unchanged from Victorian times. There is a kitchenette and a living area, and a hallway with doors presumably leading to a bathroom and a bedroom.

Everything is covered in books. Everything. Aziraphale looks around from the point of view of someone who is not him and blushes a bit in embarrassment.]

Erm. I might need to do a bit of sprucing up first...

[ Being a demon who was also once an angel, Crowley had never had a childhood. But as he stepped into the dusty upstairs loft, he feels a sort of giddiness that could only be comparable to a child being let into the secret treehouse club.

It's dusty, and rather stuffy, but Crowley can smell Aziraphale everywhere which makes it just right. It was never that he couldn't stand clutter; it was just the clutter of Hell that was all wrong. Aziraphale clutter felt, well, like home.

He leans against the angel, pressing a kiss into his hair when he spots a familiar looking cover peeking out from all the others.

Tugging free a copy of House of Holes, he gives a triumphant grin. ]

Found Gabriel's pornography.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject