sauntereddownward | (no subject)

(no subject)

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"It's a compliment!" the demon insisted.

"Yes, I'm aware you think so," Aziraphale sighed.

"Then the polite thing to do is accept it," Crowley insisted.

"all right," said aziraphale. "Complement accepted."

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."

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.

Perhaps this is good," said Aziraphale. "Having it all done with, not having to wonder when Michael might show up with their verdict. Maybe things can just get back to how they were for so long."

"Back to the bookshop? Back to brunch?" he asked, smiling at that. "Back to work..."

"I suppose so," said the angel as he ran his thumb around the rim of his empty wine glass. "And back to... Our friendship?" Almost hopeful.

A sly smile overtook the demon's mouth.

"Back to...bed?" he suggested hopefully.

Aziraphale looked confused. “It’s morning.”

"The best reason to go back to bed," the demon insisted.

Nodded.

And rose.

“Are… you sleepy?” Aziraphale asked, baffled, even as he got to his feet, clearly prepared to follow.

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.

"Oh, I imagine that you got quite a lot of rest in that basket," Aziraphale said, and found himself staring at Crowley's lips for no reason at all.

"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.

Aziraphale wasn't quite sure what to make of the speed. "Then why are you so eager to get back to bed?"

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.

Aziraphale's face immediately went slightly pink.

"Oh. I. Wondered if that was going to come up again."

"Hoping? Or dreading?" Crowley asked curiously.

"... scared," said Aziraphale, not quite looking at him.

"Of what?" Crowley asked, as if he wasn't near paralyzed with fear at the prospect as well

"I - I don't know," Aziraphale stammered. "All of it. What it is, what it means..."

"Don't choose fear, angel," Crowley said...as he took back over and the Bentley charged through traffic at breakneck speed.

Aziraphale wasn't sure what to say to that, but he kept sneaking glances at Crowley as they drove.

"Safe as houses," Crowley announced as the car came to an abrupt stop against the curb in front of the bookshop.

There was a chance Aziraphale's nerves might not agree.

(no subject)

theangelfell - 2023-10-09 01:46 (UTC) - Expand

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only