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duckshaveears: (~ what's this then)
From: [personal profile] duckshaveears
Crowley fidgets. Impossible to miss that he's uncomfortable, that he's got a burr in his tail about something. He takes a breath, planning on disavowing it and trying to run this conversation back onto the usual tracks and away from dangerous territory--

But Aziraphale is looking at him, his eyes uncertain and guileless and not quite hurt (not yet, shit, shit, he really shouldn't have gotten into this), and the thing is that Crowley is a terrible liar unless he's planned ahead. Which he didn't. He fell into his trap all on his own, dug the ground and laid the spikes and then stepped into it anyway.

Crowley sighs heavily and runs a hand back through his hair, which makes it spike and stand on end a bit. "What I said," he says, glancing quickly at Aziraphale. His eyes are bright yellow, hesitant and guarded. "Wondered if you and he ever..."

The question trails off, and he waves a hand frustratedly in the air. "Don't make me say it, angel, I know it's none of my business, and even if the pair of you did there wouldn't have been anything wrong with it, just, I wondered and then I couldn't stop wondering and I keep wondering and if you're going to dump the bottle of wine over my head and tell me I'm a pillock, which I am, just, just go ahead and get it over with, yeah?"
salutosinedelectat: Nervous, surprised, smitten (I won't say I'm in-)
From: [personal profile] salutosinedelectat
Oh.

Aziraphale doesn't say a word as Crowley rambles on and fidgets and scrambles his way to the metaphorical exit, just sitting there with his glass in both hands. He doesn't look angry or irritated. Doesn't look offended or hurt. What he does look is mostly surprised, uncertain, as mentioned, and entirely more sober than he was a few minutes ago. Quite literally, on that last one.

He can't help but to go through parts of their evening where he might have missed the signs something was bothering the demon. A couple stand out, but he isn't about to ask him if this or that was about this...subject. Did he just not pay enough attention to how Crowley was feeling? Should he have?

"...hum." He shakes off those thoughts for a moment, or tries to, lest he fall too far down into his doubting mind. Composes himself, keeps the glass in his hands still. "Why-- why do you want to know that?"
duckshaveears: (Default)
From: [personal profile] duckshaveears
"I don't!" Crowley groans his frustration as he more or less flings himself backwards in his seat, face pointed at the ceiling. "But I just. Keep. Picturing. It. Driving me bloody mad, and I--"

He stops, and this time he flings himself to his feet, paces a few steps. "Never met the man, you know that, but he sounds like--like some impossible combination of both of us, all witty and bookish and wicked and tempting, and I know he must've adored you, and I was asleep, and I--"

He stops in his track, eyes widening as the rest of the sentence drops from his mouth. "--wasn't there--"

Oh.

That's it, is it. That's why.

Oh.

...shit.

in some alternate timeline

Date: 2020-04-01 12:22 am (UTC)
salutosinedelectat: Nervous, upset, sad, serious, talking (looking down)
From: [personal profile] salutosinedelectat
As Crowley flings his body about on the sofa, Aziraphale continues to protect his glass from the demon's long limbs. As he paces, the angel watches, utterly at loss for words for once, although he couldn't quite figure out why. There were a few things, certainly, and one of them is definitely not knowing how he feels about the demon so frantically ranting about the concept of the angel having...been with someone who he once called a friend, but with whom he never could share his real identity, still managing to strike a connection.

Crowley reaches his conclusion, and the angel hasn't moved from his seat yet, still protectively holding his glass of wine, slightly frozen in his spot.

He does try to say something, in those heavy seconds of silence after the demon's realization. He does also realize that he may regret having sobered up, but it's not like he would know how to deal with this any better if he was drunk.

( Why did they go to one of Oscar's plays? What was the point of it? At one point in the evening did things turn and he completely failed to notice?)

The angel eventually breaks the silence, which feels far longer than it lasts, by clearing his throat with all the casual attitude of someone who's found himself suddenly stranded in a particularly unpleasant situation. "Yes, well..." And he does not know where to go with that sentence. Maybe he doesn't want to go anywhere with it. And, yet...

"...we were quite close, at a point. And he was..." He purses his lips for another pause, eyes on the carpet and glass finally set down on his lap. " There was...a discussion. But..." And he leaves the implication there.

Date: 2020-04-01 01:15 am (UTC)
duckshaveears: (Default)
From: [personal profile] duckshaveears
Crowley, still rather poleaxed by his own sudden understanding, looks up. "But." he repeats.

It's not a question. He can hear Aziraphale's answer in that one word. Tension leaves him in a rush, and he makes his way back to the sofa, sits back down. Leans towards Aziraphale until he's resting his forehead on the angel's shoulder. "...m'sorry."

Date: 2020-04-01 10:56 am (UTC)
salutosinedelectat: Neutral (pretty)
From: [personal profile] salutosinedelectat
The angel looks at him, with yet another quiet pause. When he moves, he simply puts his glass away on the table by the sofa, and brings a delicate hand up to Crowley's back, comforting.

"It's alright." It's not, not really, but he rather it be. It's not that he's hurt or particularly offended, the subject is more complex than that. Such as wondering how long will things from before they became free will come up to be dealt with. Probably for a very, very long, but he has no way of really knowing.

Date: 2020-04-01 11:30 am (UTC)
duckshaveears: (~ looking down)
From: [personal profile] duckshaveears
Crowley rolls his head a little, which is as close as he can get to shaking it while being completely unwilling to move. "Not...this," he says. Aziraphale's shoulder feels warm and comforting. He smells warm and comforting, he is warm and comforting, what is Crowley even doing here? He swallows, closes his eyes. "For 1862, and that stupid fucking argument. For saying all that utter tripe to you and then sulking off to sleep for half a century."

Date: 2020-04-01 11:38 am (UTC)
salutosinedelectat: Nervous, upset, sad, serious, talking (looking down)
From: [personal profile] salutosinedelectat
Aziraphale brings both his arms around him. Surprising, really, how he can just do that now. That they can both be vulnerable, and the potential to go through millenia of conversations and arguments and misunderstandings. It's completely, utterly terrifying to consider.

He struggles to reply. "We... Both said a lot of things then. No a lot of them quite good." He does admit it, vaguely. If he faces the misguiving in that argument too directly, that'll just send him to the next thing, and the next, and an infinite line of things he did wrong. Given the choice, he rather not. But he feels like he might not have a choice in the first place.

Date: 2020-04-01 12:59 pm (UTC)
duckshaveears: (Default)
From: [personal profile] duckshaveears
Crowley says in the embrace, more grateful for it than he'll ever be able to explain. Does Aziraphale know how astonishing it is, how impossible, to be able to say he's sorry and then be comforted? Forgiven?

Truthfully, he hopes not.

"Yeah, I know." It took a long, long time to move past that F word. But that's not the point. "It's just...think it's the idea that I might've, might've driven you away, and then that while I was inconsolable and angry and fucked up, you could just..." He laughs, and it's a little bitter. "Gavotte your way into a gentleman's club like the angel you are, and found someone else to, to care about, to be cared about. While I was asleep and stubborn and refusing to admit how much you meant. To me." He wraps his arms around Aziraphale and squeezes. "'m glad you had...friends, then. I am. Just, hate that at the time, you maybe didn't know I was still one of them. To say nothing of all, all this."

All this love, he means. He knows now that it was there back then, intrinsically a part of him, though at the time he hadn't realized at all. Willful blindness.

Date: 2020-04-01 01:44 pm (UTC)
salutosinedelectat: (Default)
From: [personal profile] salutosinedelectat
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."

Date: 2020-04-02 12:11 am (UTC)
duckshaveears: (~ wouldn't say that exactly)
From: [personal profile] duckshaveears
"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.

Date: 2020-04-02 12:35 am (UTC)
salutosinedelectat: Sitting, Crowley, hands (Hold hands)
From: [personal profile] salutosinedelectat
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?"

Date: 2020-04-02 04:17 pm (UTC)
duckshaveears: (~ looking down)
From: [personal profile] duckshaveears
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."

Date: 2020-04-02 10:12 pm (UTC)
salutosinedelectat: Serious (...)
From: [personal profile] salutosinedelectat
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.

Date: 2020-04-06 11:16 pm (UTC)
duckshaveears: (| Az kind)
From: [personal profile] duckshaveears
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."

Date: 2020-04-06 11:41 pm (UTC)
salutosinedelectat: Smiling, sad, upset (Dine at the Ritz.)
From: [personal profile] salutosinedelectat
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."

Date: 2020-04-20 12:27 am (UTC)
duckshaveears: (| Az kiss2)
From: [personal profile] duckshaveears
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.

Date: 2020-04-20 10:20 am (UTC)
salutosinedelectat: (Default)
From: [personal profile] salutosinedelectat
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.

unexpected boomerang tag!

Date: 2020-04-20 10:33 am (UTC)
duckshaveears: (Default)
From: [personal profile] duckshaveears
"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?"

!!

Date: 2020-04-20 10:46 am (UTC)
salutosinedelectat: (Default)
From: [personal profile] salutosinedelectat
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.
duckshaveears: (| Az kiss1)
From: [personal profile] duckshaveears
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."
salutosinedelectat: Wings, Crowley (Angels)
From: [personal profile] salutosinedelectat
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?"

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

Date: 2020-04-20 11:09 am (UTC)
duckshaveears: (Default)
From: [personal profile] duckshaveears
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.

This is untold territory

Date: 2020-04-20 11:28 am (UTC)
salutosinedelectat: (Default)
From: [personal profile] salutosinedelectat
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.

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