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[inlovewithmycar]

 

 

 

 

OPEN POST FOR
MEME OVERFLOWS
PSLs
OTHER VERY EXCITING THINGS

 

 

 

 

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[sohoangel]

Where have you been eating your aubergines that they come out tasting like rubber??? I'm placing an order to the local trattoria, you can have some when you come over.

And I know that you're nimble enough on your mobile that you don't need to use shorthand with me.

Wait, weren't you? I mean, I did sign yours, it seems only fair.

[inlovewithmycar]

everywhere. throughout history. i have given them so many chances angel. the only thing they're good 4 is terrible sexual innuendo.

i 💗 using shorthand w/ u tho 😘

nope definitely srs me. always srs. just making sure we both are. i know how u get about ur clothes, even the ones no1s gonna see

[sohoangel]

A tragedy. I don't think I've met a vegetable that I didn't like.

You can keep using the little pictures. I like those.

Oh, yes, very serious. My waistcoat might be vintage, but my knickers aren't. And you'll see them, won't you, when you sign them?

[inlovewithmycar]

[ There is a five minute interval where Crowley has swerved off the road and only narrowly missed a gaggle of pedestrians by relocating them to the top of an apartment complex.

Look. He's not a prude. He's a bloody demon for Satan's sake! He has seen Things that would only ever belong in a "the Aristocrats!" skit.

That being said, Aziraphale talking about his underthings in any context would reasonably send anyone into a brief conniption, right?

...Right? ]

rite.

should i ask or is that going to ruin the surprise ???

[sohoangel]

[Five minutes is long enough for Aziraphale to worry that he typed the wrong thing. Perhaps Crowley wasn't being serious at all, and he had somehow overstepped the invisible line of appropriate banter. Since the Armageddon that Wasn't, the angel had become far more relaxed around Crowley, but perhaps these sorts of conversations should only be held after several bottles of wine, and not in the cold sobriety of text.

(Also, if he knew that Crowley was texting and driving, he'd give him a real earful over it, but thankfully he is none the wiser.)

By the time Crowley's text arrives, he's in a bit of a dither over it.]

Should you ask what?

[inlovewithmycar]

[ Crowley is, of course, speculating. On one hand, Aziraphale's knickers not being vintage could mean any number of things. A sensible pair of boxer-briefs for example. Nothing anyone but Crowley would get excited over.

On the other hand, Aziraphale once had a penchant for frills and lace and satin, Crowley wonders if his undergarments have retained some vestige of the older styles he'd favoured before such things fell out of fashion.

He nearly rear-ends a Prius just thinking about it. ]

n/m i'm sure i'll find out l8r. almost there 💖

[ And he shows up to the bookshop, his glasses askew, and wild-eyed, looking only marginally less disheveled than when he emerged from the burning Bentley. His journey from Mayfair to Soho may have racked up a body count. He's not sure. He really hopes not. ]

[sohoangel]

[Well, that doesn't clear anything up.]

All right. Mind how you go.

[Crowley will find his angel in the back room, along with a bottle of Malbec already opened and two glasses on an end table. Aziraphale is at his usual spot in his armchair. He looks up and smiles, his expression quickly turning to intense concern.]

Crowley! Good Heavens, is everything all right? You look like you've seen a ghost.

[inlovewithmycar]

Nope. No ghosts.

[ He realizes just how much of a disaster he must look like and quickly straightens his jacket and shades, and combs his fingers through his hair to smooth it.

Unfortunately this only has the effect of making him look like a middle-aged cockatoo.

He flops into his favourite side of the couch, sinking into cushions that have long ago molded to his lanky form. He's trying to put on an air of easy-going nonchalance, but misses the mark and winds up somewhere in the vicinity of 'sudden onset of diarrhea at a grandmum's memorial service'. ]

Nothing's the matter. Why do you ask?

[sohoangel]

[Aziraphale watches Crowley attempt to settle himself with a puzzled look on his face. He's used to all of the demon's mannerisms by now, but the question remains: what's got him all flustered? He'd tell him if it were serious, wouldn't he? Crowley doesn't keep things from him, not unless he thinks it'll upset him.

...oh. This must be about the texts, then. Well, that's all right. He was being too forward. Why would Crowley want to think about Aziraphale's unmentionables in the first place? Better to pretend like it never happened at all.]

It's nothing, dear.

[He smiles, trying to mask his crestfallen expression, and pours the two of them a drink. He gets up with both glasses and hands one to Crowley.]

Here. The malbec as promised.

[inlovewithmycar]

Malbec. Right.

[ He takes the glass in a daze, fingers only lightly brushing Aziraphale's in the exchange, before something, suddenly occurs to him. He fishes around in his jacket pocket and, like a magician about to unveil a particularly complex trick, he produces... ]

...A pen. As promised.

[ Not for nothing, it's a nice pen. Sleek, black, with silver filigree around the cap. But there it is. Crowley taking a dangerous leap, calling Aziraphale's bluff, if it was ever a bluff at all. ]

It can even write underwater. Should do the trick.

[ He takes a sip of the dark wine, his brow having migrated halfway up the vast expanse of his forehead as he watches for Aziraphale's reaction. Your move, angel. ]

[sohoangel]

[Aziraphale is about to return to his armchair when Crowley pulls out the pen from his pocket. He spends several seconds staring at the pen, then another few looking from the pen to Crowley and back again while his brain tries to follow this turn of events to its logical conclusion.]

Ah. So it should.

[He sits down on the other end of the couch with a soft whump, wine glass still in hand. Crowley really does want to sign his underwear. He takes a sip of wine, then another, then downs the entire glass.]

...are you expecting me to be underwater for this?

[inlovewithmycar]

[ Crowley follows suit, downing his own glass in one go. Shame, as it's rather good. He does like the sweeter wines.

But he needs the liquid courage, because he feels like they're dancing on the edge of something here. ]

Angel, I'm going to be honest, I have no idea what I should be expecting right now. Up to an hour ago, I thought I knew where I stood, but I now I've got 'Property of Aziraphale' in your handwriting on my pants, and a text about your own knickers, so I'm just trying to come at this with an open mind, really.

[ A wave of his hand and he's topped them both up. ]

[sohoangel]

[Crowley's honest statement is oddly comforting, even if it's merely admitting that he's as lost as Aziraphale is. He smiles softly and takes another sip of wine.]

Well, that makes two of us, then. I... I know we had a lot to drink last night, and I don't entirely remember the circumstances around signing your undergarments, but...

[He tries his best to keep his eyes focused on Crowley's sunglasses, as little as they tell him.]

It's the sentiment behind it. I-if I were to have you sign mine. That we... you know. Belonged to one another. Especially after everything we've been through together.

[inlovewithmycar]

[ Crowley gives a lopsided smile, looking, for the moment, a bit less jittery. ]

Does have a certain appeal, yeah.

[ He's trying to sound cool, collected, but the idea of belonging to Aziraphale has his mind going in the kind of circles that make him a little rash, a little impulsive, and so he scoots closer, arm surreptitiously sneaking over the back of the sofa just-so it wasn't quite around Aziraphale's shoulder, but it could be if that's where this evening might go. ]

Humans do something like that, you know. Only it's bits of paper they sign, not underthings. Might even involve a ring or two.

[sohoangel]

It does? I mean, you think --

[Aziraphale does not hide how happy, how relieved that makes him, to hear that Crowley likes the idea of belonging to one another. He gives his shoulders a little wiggle and scoots closer as well, until his knee bumps into Crowley's.

And then Crowley brings up marriage -- indirectly, but most obviously -- and the angel's brain stutters to a halt once more.]

Oh, I... oh. I rather suppose it does. That... has a certain appeal to me, too.I always thought it was nice when humans did it. For the right reasons, of course.

[inlovewithmycar]

[ Emboldened by Aziraphale's scoot closer, Crowley's devilish grin softens into a warm smile. He pushes his shades up so that they're settled on top of his head and gives an emphatic nod. ]

Right reasons, yeah. Can't just go -

[ He gestures with his wine glass to the open yonder of the bookstore. ]

-go signing any old pair of knickers, right? Gotta belong to the right angel-

[ Crowley paused. ]

Person. I mean - the right person.

[sohoangel]

[Crowley's smile is disarming, the sight of his earnest yellow eyes even more so. His gaze follows the gesture towards the outside world before returning to Crowley's face. He much prefers to keep his attention on what's happening between them.]

I know what you meant, dear.

[He takes a sip of wine and carefully, as if afraid Crowley might jerk away, places his hand on the demon's knee.]

Yours are the only pair of knickers I'd want to sign.

[inlovewithmycar]

[ 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.

[sohoangel]

[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.

[inlovewithmycar]

[ 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. ]

[sohoangel]

[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.

[inlovewithmycar]

[ 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.

[sohoangel]

[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.

[inlovewithmycar]

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. ]

[sohoangel]

[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.