faemused | Another Year, Another Open RP Post

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faemused

Currently offering: Crowley, angel!Crowley, Haleth. Will update this if that changes. If you want one of those three, have at it.

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From:

salutosinedelectat

He doesn't realize what Crowley's doing until his head meets the demon's shoulder, and, when it does, the tears just stream all the stronger.

He doesn't deserve this. He doesn't deserve for Crowley to give him safety and shelter and save him from embarrassment. He doesn't deserve the help in keeping the broken dam pretty vate, but of course Crowley does that for him. Of course he does. Because he's good, and he's kind, and he's the best of them.

It doesn't all come out as an explosive burst of emotion. He cries quietly against Crowley's fine quality coat, gripping at the back of it with desperate hands.

He's never been held like this. He's never been cared for like this.

Can they run it all back?

The only sound that leave him in the next several minutes are small shaken breaths pulled in. He didn't even realize how much he's been holding back. This has never happened to him before.

From:

duckshaveears

Aziraphale's shoulders are shaking.

It shouldn't feel like the end of the world. He's been through that. Two or three times, if particular emotional upheavals are included as well as the literal event.

It feels a bit like that all the same. They've held each other only once, not including the times they've danced. Those were dancing. Sort of dancing. And the other...

(His hands gripping the lapels of Aziraphale's coat, a hand moving against his back, flailing, holding and then letting go, a warm mouth against his, their breath mingled, and it's part goodbye and part don't go and entirely the feelings they've never named and it haunts him, all the time it haunts him, he wishes he hadn't done it and he wishes he'd never done anything else)

...had been. Something.

Crowley just holds him. His arms tighten as he feels Aziraphale's shoulders shake, and he buries his face against Aziraphale's hair, and if a very few tears of his own fall, the shadows won't remark on them.

From:

salutosinedelectat

He misses Crowley so much. He misses his presence. He misses the banter. He misses talking about Earth and Humans in the only way the two of them can. He misses the lunches and dinners, he misses the plays together, the car rides, the drinks in the back of the bookshop.

He still believes in his goals. He still believes in the things he could do, can do, in the new position they have given him. He still has things he wants to do through Heaven, in Heaven, the change he wants to be, but he misses Crowley.

He lost his best friend.

But Crowley still holds him, still protects him. Saves him from danger and embarassment with the same level of gravity and Aziraphale knows, he's known, and he's the only one who ever did with full and proper knowledgement of who Aziraphales is, truly is.

He cries. He cries a little more. So unbecoming of his but he cries and is held and holds onto. He is safe and he is held and he is terrified of letting go.

He does eventually lift his head, face and eyes red, and sniffs and tries to wipe his face, tries to regain some dignity. Tries to wipe the tears off of Crowley's jacket.

"Oh, Crowley, you must hate me." Finishing the sentence threatens to send him back into a fit of tears, but he holds on. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry for all of this."

From:

duckshaveears

"Don't be daft." The music has gone back to something more raucous now that their attention's been taken off it, which makes it hard to hear each other. Crowley isn't going to complain. It means no one else will hear them clearly either, and he's not even sure he wants to hear this clearly. They don't do this sort of naked honesty, him and Aziraphale. He hardly knows how to cope with it.

Though he could do without the Billy Ray Cyrus.

He sighs and holds Aziraphale harder, bending his head back down so they're hidden in an embrace again. Anything so he doesn't have to see Aziraphale's reddened eyes. "Don't be daft," he says again. "You know I don't, I could never."

From:

salutosinedelectat

The angel's head lands back on Crowley's shoulder and he rests it there, hands back to sprawl on Crowley's back, less of a desperate grip and more of a tired rest. Because Crowley isn't going to leave. Crowley isn't going to push him aside and run.

And the demon's embrace - it's so sturdy, it's so safe. It's so warm and gentle all the same. It's different from the dancing. It's everything Aziraphale's never had and never imagined he could. And still knows he shouldn't.

"You should." The voice comes quiet and frail, only comes through the loudness of the music by how close they together they are. No longer just enemies-turned-allies-turned-friends meeting in coffee shops and restaurants, museums and tops of buses. They're now like star-crossed lovers, holding each other in a dark corner of a seedy bar.

He thought it would be more exciting. Or more comforting.

From:

duckshaveears

"Shut up." There's no bite to the words, just a sort of weary resignation. "I don't give a blessing about the shoulds, angel. I never did and I especially don't now. None of them. Fuck all of it, I don't care."