The City Inbox

[inlovewithmycar]

⛧A.J. CROWLEY⛧ "This is Crowley. I'm not in. You know what to do, so do it with style. Chow."

code by MANUAL

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[benedicus]

( how did this happen?

how did it come to this? how did things turn out this way? what had aziraphale done for things to develop to such a wonderful, fantastic direction? what had he gotten so right? this had started as a phone call, like many they have had over the years, but now the two of them lie underneath the protection of a fluffy comforter, foreheads pressed together, and his hands cradling crowley's face like the precious treasure he is.

aziraphale thinks that he could live in this moment forever.

he couldn't go back to a time before knowing crowley's touch, his warmth, and the noble bow of his lips. he couldn't bear it. not any more, not after having a sample of what he's been longing for for so long.

for a while, aziraphale lingers, rubbing his thumbs along the sharp lines of crowley's cheekbones. appreciating what he has in front of them. appreciating the demon who has been trying so, so hard for him. he wants to kiss him, kiss him full on the lips in the way they do in films, but aziraphale fears that he couldn't take it.

he wants to kiss him, but it might fry every nerve in his vessel if he does. he's not ready for it yet, not ready to take that step.

but he wants to. just as he wants to hold crowley close to him and see if their bodies fit together as perfectly as aziraphale always imagined they would.

aziraphale squashes those feelings down, pushing them down low and out of the way.

then, after a stretch of time, he has something more to say. )

So then, Mr. Crowley, what's next for this wake-up routine?

[inlovewithmycar]

[It's a peculiar thing when Crowley is in no hurry to push boundaries, but he is, at the moment, quite content at where things are between them. They have broken walls and added such new and wonderful steps to their dance, how could he not want to savour and explore this fresh and marvelous intimacy? To know that he and Aziraphale are roughly on the same page with what they want, that they can take their time, go it their own pace, at their own leisure, with no swords strung above their heads for having the audacity of simply existing in one another's presence...

It's enough. It's more than enough; it's everything and then some.

He wants this to slot into their routine; this amber warmth in the low light pre-dawn quiet, snuggled close together as their pulses synchronize. Heaven's light is nothing compared to the rosy glow of Aziraphale's cheeks in the incandescent glow of the bedside lamp, God's love but a grain of sand next to Aziraphale's veritable ocean of affection.

He smiles, another laugh escaping him, because how can a body hold this much happiness inside?]

I believe I promised you breakfast...?

[benedicus]

Why, yes. I believe you did.

( there's a laugh behind his words, terribly fond. terribly smitten. it feels like crowley's laugh chimes with his, joy echoing between them. no, more than feels. must be. no doubt about it. he feels in tune with the demon laying beside him, firmly standing on the same ground.

it's such a lovely thing.

affectionately, he shifts his hands and smooshes crowley's cheeks. )

Let's not be late.

( in a manner of speaking. )