sauntereddownward (
sauntereddownward) wrote2023-08-27 05:27 pm
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The next morning dawned, bright and fresh as the first dawn and every dawn thereafter. Crowley took note of the sunlight. There had been no sunlight in the basket, no need to rouse even a smidgen while he'd been trapped. But now the light indicated creation.
It wasn't enough to get him to open his eyes, but he did become quite aware that this was a bed. A delightfully comfortable bed, warm and soft, and the warmth that made the demon gravitate to it and ease in tight against it was solid and familiar and safe.
All he'd wanted since the day he'd watched Aziraphale leave.
It wasn't enough to get him to open his eyes, but he did become quite aware that this was a bed. A delightfully comfortable bed, warm and soft, and the warmth that made the demon gravitate to it and ease in tight against it was solid and familiar and safe.
All he'd wanted since the day he'd watched Aziraphale leave.
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Crowley looked a bit caught out.
Because he was right.
"I suppose you expect a thank you," he said, already thinking of a hundred ways he could prove his gratitude without two simple, silly, weak words.
None of those hundreds could happen at the breakfast table.
Crowley sniffed, then as casually as he could manage, he said.
"Thank you."
Somehow he made it sound even sillier and weaker.
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There was a long pause, and then finally Aziraphale said, "And for what it's worth, I'm um, sorry, that I... left you, all those years ago. I still think I did the right thing, but I am still sorry for that it all happened like it did. I hope this squares us."
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Crowley arched a brow above his glasses.
"How sorry?" he asked, tormenting the angel just a little since he could.
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Crowley looked just a touch shocked.
"Angel," he purred. "Would you really?"
He was teasing.
Sort of.
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"No," he agreed.
He sipped his wine.
"It was a good threat, though. Forceful. Brought that up from the chest..."
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"It's a compliment!" the demon insisted.
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"Then the polite thing to do is accept it," Crowley insisted.
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He paused, thinking that perhaps it was etiquette to give someone a compliment in return. After a moment he said, "You have very nice shoes."
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If Aziraphale had any idea how long Crowley had waited to hear those words.
Not that he dressed specifically to tempt the angel.
Except when he did.
Crowley smiled with a pride previously reserved for the birth of nebulas.
"Thank you," he said warmly.
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"Back to the bookshop? Back to brunch?" he asked, smiling at that. "Back to work..."
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A sly smile overtook the demon's mouth.
"Back to...bed?" he suggested hopefully.
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"The best reason to go back to bed," the demon insisted.
Nodded.
And rose.
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Crowley sauntered out to the Bentley and slithered in behind the wheel.
It wasn't until Aziraphale was seated that he looked over at him and lowered his glasses.
"I've had all the nap I need," he said and licked his lip suggestively.
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"There wasn't much else to do," he admitted, then tore off through traffic at a shaocking speed.
It was a miracle no one died.
Fourteen miracles. And one really lucky cyclist.
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Crowley let go of the wheel and turned to fully face him.
The Bentley carried on. She knew the way home.
"Because, angel," he said. "Before I dozed off I thought if I was ever going to kiss you again, it would be comfortably in bed."
Some people weren't aware just how often the most Damning thing was the Truth.
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