He breathes the words like a prayer, his eyes widening. It's rare for them to manage so long. Camelot and the years after was the longest period they had, and even it had been punctuated with one or the other or both of them being pulled away. Three months would be a blessing.
...no, not a blessing, he won't use that word, not now. A luxury, then. A gift.
(A miracle.)
Aziraphale is leaning low, close enough that Crowley can stretch up and press their foreheads together, brush his nose alongside the other's. "Yes. Oh, yes, please. That, that'd be--"
Crowley stops and swallows. His eyes are closed, and he smells soap and faint sulphur instead of dirt and stale wine. Aziraphale smells like home. He always has. "Can we go somewhere?" Crowley asks softly. "Not here. Not...not Seville. Just, stay somewhere. For three months. Could get away w'that, f'r once." He laughs a little, and there's a hint of a sob in it again, though only a hint. "Done good work lately, so they're all, all pleased with me."
He reaches up his other hand so both frame Aziraphale's face, and concentrates on that. Warm breath on his mouth, warm skin under his hands, fluffy curls teasing his fingertips. "'ziraphale." Oh Lord, he's still so fucking smashed and he needs not to be if only so he can get this foul taste out of his mouth and kiss his demon. "Jus', let me be with you somewhere. For three months."
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timeasmymeasure
Years later when C funds out he'll wish he'd given a proper one. <3 and be cutely flustered
Date: 2020-05-18 01:07 am (UTC)He breathes the words like a prayer, his eyes widening. It's rare for them to manage so long. Camelot and the years after was the longest period they had, and even it had been punctuated with one or the other or both of them being pulled away. Three months would be a blessing.
...no, not a blessing, he won't use that word, not now. A luxury, then. A gift.
(A miracle.)
Aziraphale is leaning low, close enough that Crowley can stretch up and press their foreheads together, brush his nose alongside the other's. "Yes. Oh, yes, please. That, that'd be--"
Crowley stops and swallows. His eyes are closed, and he smells soap and faint sulphur instead of dirt and stale wine. Aziraphale smells like home. He always has. "Can we go somewhere?" Crowley asks softly. "Not here. Not...not Seville. Just, stay somewhere. For three months. Could get away w'that, f'r once." He laughs a little, and there's a hint of a sob in it again, though only a hint. "Done good work lately, so they're all, all pleased with me."
He reaches up his other hand so both frame Aziraphale's face, and concentrates on that. Warm breath on his mouth, warm skin under his hands, fluffy curls teasing his fingertips. "'ziraphale." Oh Lord, he's still so fucking smashed and he needs not to be if only so he can get this foul taste out of his mouth and kiss his demon. "Jus', let me be with you somewhere. For three months."