faemused | Open To Anyone For Anything RP Post 2

The only reason Aziraphale might not know how it is to not be forgiven, or to suddenly have that available when it's never been, it's because he's had someone who tolerated his mistakes and misgivings. And it certainly wasn't other angels, for as much as he attempted to put faith in his kin by the end. He'd always been rather blind to a lot of concepts, naive, still is, but most most of them can be traced back to justifiable origins.

Long pauses keep on creeping into the conversation, short respites to process grand topics. It's necessary, and possible, and holding and being held through it is... Somewhat grounding. Comforting. He didn't think he would have felt like he needed it.

"I don't think I knew we were." He finally says, quietly, letting his head rest against Crowley's. "I didn't..." But he stutters into a pause and a soft huff. And chooses to turn the conversation away from himself - it's safer. Easier, probably. At least, easier to find the words for. "I'm sorry, Crowley."

"What for?" Crowley sighs as Aziraphale's head rests against his. "You didn't do anything. I'm the one being outrageously jealous of a human just 'cause you might've loved him a century ago during a time when neither of us knew I was off my head over you."

Sounds pretty pathetic put like that, at least to Crowley's ears. This is the measure of his trust, so far: that he can be weak, show weakness. His world has been one where showing weakness is akin to wearing a large sign with an arrow stating "Stab here on this spot for maximum damage!" Might as well ask for death outright.

Aziraphale's world has been as intolerant of any weakness or deviance as his, Crowley knows. They just have different coping mechanisms, different armour. Different ways of hiding it avoiding the subject.

He knows Aziraphale is deflecting. He always knows when Aziraphale is deflecting. Can't play a player, and Crowley is as slippery as they get. Doesn't matter. He's patient. And it's not like he doesn't understand the need. Habits of millennia aren't lightly set aside. It's frustrating sometimes, sure, but he gets it.

And Aziraphale said enough to banish the worst of his idiotic worry, at least. It'll do, even if it's not everything. Crowley's greedy enough to want everything and more. But he also knows damned well how lucky he is to have as much as he does, and he's not about to risk it. Except it feels like he just did, so he'll take Aziraphale's part-answer and deflecting apology and embrace and be grateful. He will.

Does he even know what he's apologizing for? Only partly, really, if he reduces it to that stupid little spat they had back then. For insinuating what he did, for stepping away, for not trying to contact him at all. For not checking, even though he was worried. Saying he was hurt, back then, wasn't possible, not with all that it implied, and for all that their friendship was unnatural then. There were many times in their time on Earth where the angel refused to recognize their obvious kinship - whenever he had to admit it, or whenever it pained him to look at it straight. But it still hurt when Crowley said he didn't need him. It still scared him when he thought the demon was risking his life. Still felt overwhelmingly lonely when dealings with Heaven had come up and he found himself with no one to talk to about it.

"For that day. In the park." Still quiet as he speaks. "I should have...checked. Talked to you. Done something." Of course he can say that now, but he couldn't have done it back then. He could have, but he couldn't have.

He takes a deep breath through his nose, long and heavy. Feels Crowley warm in his arms. " You know there could have never have been anyone else." This isn't about romance. This isn't about a romantic relationship, this isn't even about being friends. It's about the reality of their situation has it's always been. About isolated agents who find out they have more in common with their immediate opponents than their remote allies, regardless of how that develops.

"I found something to do. I enjoyed what I found. I've met many great personalities. I've...we've been experienced more than we were intended to." He closes his eyes, lets himself speak, before he gives himself the chance to stutter and stall. "That doesn't mean I forgot-..." And there's the stall. It's difficult, this. It probably shouldn't be. "There's never been anyone else who... understood. Couldn't be. How could there be?"

Crowley raises his head enough to take a kiss: acceptance and apology. "We both fucked up that day," he says, his mouth still only a breath away from Aziraphale's. They've never apologized for that particular argument, not explicitly. They reached a pax about it in 1941 and another in 1967, but neither has ever come out and said sorry for harsh words that had aimed to hurt and succeeded beyond either's most angry intentions. It helps, that Aziraphale's apologized. It soothes something that's never quite rested.

Crowley's eyes are still closed, but he can feel the angel's breath on his face, warm and sweet-smelling. "There couldn't be. I know, angel. That much I knew even then. Just didn't know you did, at the time." He raises a hand to Aziraphale's face, presses it to his cheek, rubs his fingerips slightly against the skin above his ear. "I am glad you weren't alone then, even if it wasn't me, wasn't this. I mean it. 'm sorry I got so, so worked up."

The kiss they share is soothing. But he can't help but to start thinking about so many other things. So many other mistakes he hasn't apologized about. He's spent so long talking about not questioning the future, that he never bothered to look back very closely. And Crowley, despite everything, always forgave him, always came back to him. But he's still wondering, now, if that's fair. It comes up, some times, when he does look back.

"I didn't know." He admits, not without some struggle. "I don't think I realized until...until time had passed. There was so much to do, so much to see, and work, but..." But he had been so angry about it. No, he'd been...hurt. He'd been scared. He didn't know how to handle the situation except to step out of it. But even when he found a kind hear to talk to - Oscar often lent his -, he could still never truly explain what happened. (But the things his friend said - they didn't sat well with him, either. Not then. He'd stopped talking about it.)

Oh, no. He's started, he realizes - he's said too much, and he doesn't know how he got here. Despite Crowley's gentleness, despite what really started this conversation, the angel still wonders what he might think of him. "I took so much for granted." He shouldn't dig any deeper than this.

Something in Crowley's chest twangs painfully. (Not a heart, of course not, he's a demon and they don't have those, which is utter bollocks but sometimes he tells himself that anyway if he feels like he's getting too soft). "Hey, no," he says quietly, kissing Aziraphale again. "None of that. Didn't mean for this to turn into some sort of guilt trip, honest." He still has a hand on Aziraphale's face, and moves it back into his hair, cradling the back of his head. "You were terrified, angel. I understood that even back then. And I get it, I remember what Heaven was like. The way it fucks with your head. S'all right."

He does appreciate the comfort, but it feels...undeserved? He hardly finds himself the worst sinner to walk this Earth, but catching up is dreadful business. The freedom to consider things from a different angle doesn't always bring relief.

Crowley is right about him being terrified; neither of them could even consider certain things, no matter how many rules they bent and break. Some things were entirely off the table, even for them. And part of it is what led to so many of their more serious arguments, the ones that had at least one of them turn around and walk away. But, well, here they are, time is quite silly, and perhaps this is becoming a bit more embarrassing than he can handle. So he stops digging.

It's with guilty eyes that he looks back at Crowley, but adoring all the same. Thankful. "I was a fool, my dear. But I'm quite glad to be here now."

Crowley strokes Aziraphale's face with his fingertips, from forehead to chin, then tilts that chin up for another kiss. "So am I, angel," he murmurs, just before pressing his mouth gently against Aziraphale's. A slow kiss, thorough and deep and familiar. Already familiar, though they've not been able to do this for so very long now, not by their reckonings. Not nearly long enough.

They do have time now. A much more pleasant thing to catch up with, comforting and nice, that helps his mind settle somewhere much more pleasant. He lets his hands rest on Crowley's chest, moving only to gently hold onto his lapels. Hold onto something.

Much rather look forward than look back, he finds. But he supposes it needs to be done, anyway. Perhaps in smaller increments.

When he pulls back from the kiss, it's gentle and slow, and he rests his forehead against the demon's, eyes still closed. Just an intimate moment, only theirs.

"I do love you." He mutters, just in case there's a need for a reminder.

"I know," Crowley murmurs back. Their mouths are separated only by a few inches. They can feel each other's breath, taste it. "I do know." His thumb strokes along Aziraphale's face. "Love you too, Aziraphale."

He leans in a little, rubs their noses together. One of those silly, intimate gestures that means nothing and everything, the sort of thing he used to long for. And now he has permission. Encouragement, even.

Stupid to have brought up the past, really. It doesn't matter what happened, what either of them did. Not if it all lead to this.

Crowley brings up his other hand as well, brackets Aziraphale's face in them and kisses him again. After a few minutes he whispers, "Think I owe you another date night, though, seeing as I kind of wrecked this one. You free tomorrow, maybe?"

Aziraphale has also found that he quite enjoys the silly intimate gestures. Quite a lot, actually. Fancy that.

He does smile then, bringing one of his hands up to cover one of Crowley's, ever so charmed by how gentle and sweet his demon can be. Temptation doesn't hold a candle to something like this.

"I believe I can find the time." He responds in an amused murmur, thumb stroking over Crowley's knuckles.

Crowley would object if he heard the words gentle or sweet. Maybe eventually this will all be familiar enough, taken for granted enough, that he'll accept words like that, admit they're part of him, admit he wants them.

(He hopes so, deep down in the places where he knows himself)

"Good," he whispers. Another kiss, and then a hint of a grin. "In the meantime you should kiss me a few more times, don't you think? Practice. To make sure we get it right tomorrow, you know."

Crowley may protest. And Aziraphale will expect him to. And they will continue that cycle until it changes into something else, as things tend to do. It's just the natural flow.

"Oh, of course. Wouldn't want to come up short." Even without either of them looking, the angel still pulls a mock serious frown, which lasts for a whole two seconds before he's smiling again. "How does it go, again?"

Crowley chuckles, low and husky. "Something like this, I think?" Aziraphale's mouth is warm, and he slides his tongue in to get a taste of it, breathes in deep. His fingertips tighten their hold, almost imperceptibly. "Or maybe this--" The next kiss is a little more hungry, a little less teasing. "Or this..."

He loses track eventually, both of the teasing and of the numbers and types of kisses.

The angel, ever the dedicated learner, makes sure to take mental notes of all of these methods they have obviously never tried before. Practice makes perfect, doesn't it? And there's nothing quite like learning by doing.

His arms find his way around the demon's neck, ever so gently pulling him closer to the angel. Better angles. More details to note. A far better conclusion to the evening, he would have to say, and he's quite eager to put his learnings to the test tomorrow evening.

They did have a lovely evening, after all. Perhaps with a couple of bumps in the road - which he's sure will come up some other time, along with others. But that's alright. They'll cross those bridges when they get to them, hand in hand.

Maybe Oscar hadn't been wrong after all. He would have been rather smug about that.

Open To Anyone For Anything RP Post 2

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unexpected boomerang tag!

!!

Do we want to continue this or let it drift to a conclusion?

we can finish up this one, probably pick up the topic some other time . One of our shortest ones wow

We'll actually finish one? Is that allowed?

This is untold territory

Open To Anyone For Anything RP Post 2

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

unexpected boomerang tag!

!!

Do we want to continue this or let it drift to a conclusion?

we can finish up this one, probably pick up the topic some other time . One of our shortest ones wow

We'll actually *finish* one? Is that allowed?

This is untold territory

We'll actually finish one? Is that allowed?