demonicmiracle | (duplicity) ic contact

Come up here.

[He reaches for him, trying to encourage him into his lap. Its a big wing back. It can accommodate him curled, if he will. He fully intends to hold him that way, pressed to his chest and shoulder, arms wrapped, because it is evident that this is something he needs to hear and something that will be difficult for Crowley to say.]

Come tell me what that is. Please, mon coeur. Whisper it to me.

[Despite his brief talk about leaving, he truly doesn't want to go, and he allows himself to be pulled up into Aziraphale's arms, guided into the embrace. His shoes and waistcoat and stupid belt buckle disappear as he goes, making it more comfortable to curl up, his head tucked into the crook of his neck.

Mon coeur isn't fair, when he feels this way.]

S'like what I said. About not being enough. [He doesn't shrug, but there's the sense of it in his voice, almost dismissive of his own words.] I'll not be enough, or I'll be too much, and you'll understand why She couldn't love me anymore.

[He doesn't know if he wants to shout, scream, or cry. Some amalgam of it all lodges like an ice shard in his chest. He wraps him tightly in his arms and that warm glow of love while calming himself down enough to speak in a way that won't frighten him or overwhelm him further.

His eyes sting fiercely. The only thing keeping that in check is that he doesn't want Crowley feeling like he has to comfort him. He's got this. He is a bloody Angel of the Lord, and he has got this.]

She valued obedience.

[He can't keep all the thickness out of his voice, and maybe that's OK. He shouldn't be able to be completely calm in the face of that. It's a disservice to both of them.]

And you weren't. Crowley, that was the whole of it. The whole of it.

[So maybe he doesn't totally have this. Hot tears spill. He turns his head a little so they won't splash on him.]

I don't need or want your blasted obedience. I never have. I have only ever wanted who you are. Even when you've infuriated me. I already understand what She demanded. And I swear to you... I swear it. It has nothing to do with your value and less than nothing to do with how I feel about you. How could it? I've only ever really known you like this. Only loved you like this.

[His chest hitches with an unwelcome spasm. He grits his teeth against it, but it's no use.]

I would bleed myself dry of ever drop of grace if that was something I could get you to see. Just once. Just bloody once.

[There's a deep, bitter part of him that wants to point out that Aziraphale hasn't been obedient. He gave away the sword, lied about it, spent centuries trading blessings and temptations with a demon, and he never fell for it, never heard a bad word from God.

None of that means he'd ever want Aziraphale to fall. It isn't jealously, not really. He's just furious about the double standards. He's furious that humans get a second chance, even though he doesn't want one. Mostly, he's just furious that he can't let go of this, that millennia later it still aches.

He can feel Aziraphale crying, and pulls back enough to look at him, to frame his face in his hands, thumbs brushing away the tears. His own eyes are bright and wet and he knows he likely looks a mess, but what does it matter, really?]

I'm trying. [It feels like a plea as he says it, begging Aziraphale to understand.] I'm trying, I just — the only love I've known was conditional.

[It's hard to let go of the fear that this love will be torn away from him, too.]

I need you to be patient with me.

I know. I know.

[And he hates it. It tears at him in a way few other sorrows ever have. He feels guilty, completely unaware that in some ways their thoughts are traveling down the same river, just in different boats. Doubt has eaten at him for thousands of years as to how he can be considered good. And if he can't, what does it mean that he's still what he is? If She is playing favorites, it's horribly cruel to both of them in different ways.]

I will be patient with you until I stop existing. Love you until I'm no more.

[He brackets Crowley's face in his hands, too, wiping at his cheeks with his thumbs.]

But until then, I've got to stop tearing at you like this. I don't know...how to do this. I'm trying to learn. And I just...

[He kisses him almost too hard, a flat lipped, still press that stays until he has to pull back and draw in another hitch of breath.]

I'll figure it out.

[Roughly. He's furious with himself for not holding it together better than this.]

[They're so far away from Her presence and She's still hanging over them, won't ever not be hanging over them, so long as they both are what they are. Some foolish part of Crowley had hoped that maybe it would be easier here, but with how insistent the city is on dragging up all this shit, he probably shouldn't be so surprised. Of course he feels so raw about falling when he had to practically relive it not so long ago.

He opens his mouth to argue but snaps it closed just before the kiss, a hand curling around Aziraphale's head, holding him in it until he feels him pull back. Crowley presses their foreheads together, breathing him in.]

Listen to me, angel, neither of us were made to love this way. We have to figure it out, we'll have to learn. But we'll do it together, yeah? You don't have to... bury parts of yourself for me, that's exactly what you're trying to tell me not to do. Tear at me, if you love me so much you want to, I'll take it. I want to take it, doesn't matter if it hurts. I'm not scared of you, and I'm not scared of your love.

[He's scared of losing him, but that isn't the same. He doesn't want Aziraphale to feel the way he so often does, like he's too much, overbearing and needy and too hungry.]

[But that is exactly what he has to do, because he has already told him that. Repeatedly. He can't trust that he has actually changed his mind. He's saying it in reaction to seeing him upset, and he's not going to be stupid enough to listen to someone speaking under duress. He leans into the press, breathing heavily as he starts to get his emotions back under wraps.]

We'll figure it out together. Yes.

[He drops his hands into his hair, squeezing once, then lower over his shoulders and back, embracing him again.]

[It means something, he thinks, that Aziraphale only addresses that one part of what he's said, he's just not sure if he should push this point right now when they're both such a blasted mess. He doubts it'll be a productive conversation right now, they're both too caught up in their own heads.]

I love you, Aziraphale.

[Crowley kisses his cheek, his temple, the edge of his jaw, before returning the embrace, holding him tightly.]

Tell me what you need right now.

[He wants to help, wants to soothe this if he can.]

I know you do. Just as I love you.

[Not a shred of that is in doubt. He closes his eyes into the kisses and clings to him, glad of the size of the chair, that it allows for this without a danger of tipping or spilling.

He needs to be something with different needs. Something that won't hurt him when he loses control. Something that doesn't want the things that Crowley doesn't want to be. There's no way he can tell him that.]

You to be here. Just...here with me, just like this.

[The rest of it is his to sort. And he will. Somehow.]

I'm here, sweetheart.

[His voice is soft, the threat of tears gone now that he's focused on whatever's going on with Aziraphale. He strokes his hand through his hair, slow, soothing movements, knowing that it'll mess up his curls and not caring. He doubts Aziraphale cares, either.

He considers letting them sit in silence, but it feels like too much of a fraught silence, like there's still things they need to discuss.]

Sometimes I wish I could read your mind. Save the trouble of anything getting lost in translation.

[And to stop him from clamming up the way he does sometimes.]

Please. It would bore you to tears. Accounting, books and Bibles, what to eat next. Easily ninety percent of my day.

[It comes easily, the familiar scoff and deflection. He can't bring himself to care overly if it's transparent. He'd rather be accused of it than speak his mind. He has hurt him quite enough for one day, when it was the last thing he intended. He'll just have to get better at controlling himself, set up his own set of private rules and adhere to them.]

This, too, will pass. You'll see.

One of those might be interesting.

[Three guesses which one.

He nuzzles at Aziraphale's throat, a gentle, affectionate gesture; he's not sure what exactly is going on in the angel's head, but if nothing else he can reassure him that he's loved, that Crowley isn't about to run off for any reason.]

Who said I was worried it wouldn't? I think this is normal, figuring out boundaries and — what we want from each other. [Because that's where this started. Maybe he should let this go, but now he's got the rush of emotion out, he feels more capable of explaining himself and he wonders if that might help.] And I want to give you everything you ask for, but I know you'd never forgive either of us if I did something that hurt. S'just hard not to feel that I've failed, somehow. That's my thing, though, it isn't on you.

[It's something he has to work on, not spiraling over these things.]

Well, if you really want a peek at my ledger, it's on the table over there.

[He gives a lazy point, not much more than a gesture from the wrist.

He feels good pressed against him, soft at his throat. Such as he can in this mood, he allows the distraction of it. It helps a little.]

I'd forgive you.

[The fact that he thinks he wouldn't points it as a step too far.]

And you haven't failed at anything, dear. I promise you that.

[He rubs slow circles over his back, avoiding sensitive areas deftly.]

Would you? [He wants to look at him, but maybe this is better done without eye contact. It allows them both a little space.] Not if I hurt you, but if I said yes to something, went through with it even if it hurt me? How could you ever trust me in bed again?

[He'd have a hard time trusting Aziraphale if the situation was reversed.]

And I know you do trust me, right now, but I dont trust myself. Not enough to — to bring my anger to bed. That's not the part of me I need you to accept, anyway.

[Anger is anger, he has ways to deal with it. They might not be especially healthy but they work well enough, he doesn't need to bring sex into it.]

I don't ever want you hurting yourself on my behalf, no. It isn't a matter of forgiveness or not. It's an abhorrent thought.

[And truly not what he was asking for, at least not with that as the intention.]

I do understand, Crowley. I'm not going to ask again. Just tell me what you do need me to accept. I want to be here for you, too.

[And escape the spiral of his own thoughts for a while now if he can.]

Alright, I — I want you to know it isn't about you. It's about me.

[It's not something wrong with Aziraphale, or it's not that Crowley doesn't trust him enough. It's his own hang ups that make him reluctant to try anything along these lines.]

All the rest of it. All the things I'm not supposed to be. [Anger is acceptable, for a demon. The softness isn't.] And the — [He touches his fingertips to Aziraphale's chest, right below his sternum.] The hunger.

[The emptiness, where his divinity used to be.]

[He sits there for a few seconds, mulling, before the lightbulb goes off.]

Oh, for Hell's sake, of course.

[He rubs a hand down his face and chuffs a frustrated sound.]

You accept your anger and darkness as a matter of course, just as I accept my softness and desire to give. We've just been looking at it all backwards.

[He pulls back enough to make eye contact.]

We're both trying to explore sides of ourselves we've been afraid to show each other in the past and unable to express with eyes over our shoulders. For you it's softness. For me it is...decidedly not. But Crowley, we share a hunger. Maybe not the same one, but ones with equal appetite.

[He's breathing a bit heavily again, this time in relief. In that context all of it makes sense to him, and he can work within parameters he understands.]

[It takes the explanation to get it, his expression curious at first before it dissolves into understanding with a side of annoyance (at the both of them) and relief. Part of his concern had been tied up in wondering if Aziraphale thought he needed to offer him an outlet for his anger, but now that he knows Crowley doesn't want that, that concern is moot.]

We're both bloody idiots.

[He leans in, presses his lips to Aziraphale's brow for a firm kiss, before drawing back.]

Whatever you want to explore, we can figure it out, take it slowly if we have to. We'll be alright, yeah?

Well, I wasn't going to say it, being the nice one and all.

[Very tongue-in-cheek.

It's obvious much of his tension has drained. The way he's holding himself and Crowley is far less heavy.]

Whatever we want to explore. Yes, we will figure it out, and we'll be fine. It's that hunger we both have to watch. Now that I feel like I understand what has been happening when we get our i's crossed and our t's dotted, I believe it's that yawning need that has gotten us into trouble. Knowing what to look for and appropriate ways to express it will help. I'm sure.

Just...understanding, and if it gets twisted or difficult, we can step back. Reassess.

[He kisses him with such a surge of love for him in the moment, it steals his breath almost immediately.]

I'm sorry that I can be so smart and so stupid at the same time. It kills me to make you cry.

[It is obvious, and Crowley is relieved by it, knowing that this isn't something Aziraphale is going to bury and stress about for however knows how long.]

M'glad you had your revelation.

[If he was going to say more, it's forgotten in the wake of the kiss. He makes a soft, needy sound into it, wonderfully overwhelmed. For once, he's happy that talking more turned out to be the right decision, that it let them get tot his understanding.]

It's alright, about the crying, think I've just got a lot of stuff built up. Don't have to bury it anymore, you know?

[It's been happening a lot more easily, since Aziraphale turned up.]

So am I. It's much preferable to following erroneous conclusions to depressing places.

[He's willing to admit it's what he was doing now that it's not as relevant. Not that he thinks Crowley didn't know it's what he was doing. Neither of them need to dwell on the details.]

I'll try to remember that and not...internalize it so much. But I feel like there's a difference between you being hurt about things and needing to let them out and me hurting you. I don't want to cross that line. I'm counting on you to help me see it.

[He falls into a mulling sort of quiet, trying to work out something and then whether he should say it or not.]

I think I...I'm starting to understand why I've wanted to push you so much lately. I promise it wasn't intentional or...or mindfully about this. If you're willing to go certain places with me, then it makes it acceptable for me to go there.

Tacit permission, I suppose. I'm sorry I didn't realize earlier. I could have spared us some pain.

[He wonders if they should talk about that, about whatever train of thought Aziraphale was going down with his erroneous conclusions, but maybe it's best to just leave it alone now they're past it.]

There is, sure, but there's also a lot of stuff that's not — not about whatever it's about. [He sighs, shaking his head.] That doesn't make sense, m'not sure what I'm trying to say. But I'll try to help there, with that line.

[He tucks himself back up against Aziraphale, nuzzling gently at his jaw as he talks.]

Don't apologize, we both missed it. [And sure, maybe Aziraphale is the smarter of the two of them, but Crowley's the one with more experience in this area. He could've been paying more attention.] I don't mind you pushing me on some things. Reckon I'd probably like it, actually. We've just got to figure out what works for both of us.

I think I understand what you mean. Seemingly unrelated things can trigger emotions, pain. I'm always willing to stop whatever we're doing to hold you. Or to give you space if it's what you need in the moment. Please never feel bad about needing either.

[He tips his head back further, half closing his eyes. This intimacy is such balm. Even if they took sex entirely out of the equation, it's hard to imagine ever going back to a time when they couldn't touch each other and take comfort in it.

He's glad they don't have eye contact now. He has reached a place where he has to say this.]

I'm afraid to now. After...after what he did to you. I don't want you looking at me and seeing him. Or...or flashing to a point during all of that. I don't know what could trigger it, so it seems safer just to...not.

I've been thinking about something else. I don't know if I ought to say it at all. If you'd just find it upsetting, or...or crazy.

Yeah, that, now you're being clever. I'll ask if I need it, and the same goes for you.

[He feels as if he's more fragile than Aziraphale, sometimes, but maybe it's just that he's been more willing to expose himself to all this, the complicated mess of it. Aziraphale is still an angel, still has to be better. He's grateful for the times it seems like he's been able to let go, at least.]

Oh, angel. That's going to happen no matter how careful you are, I think. There's no avoiding it forever, just dealing with it. Don't let it stop you from doing things you want, we'll work through whatever happens. Just trust me to stop or slow down if I have to. [He catches one of Aziraphale's hands, bringing it to curl against his chest.] Tell me? I'd like to hear it, even if I don't want it.

[He nods. He knows he's not good about that. Asking. He's willing to try for him. It wouldn't be fair to hold Crowley to a double standard of being more open than he's willing to be.]

All right. I think as long as I know you'll tell me...I can do that.

[Maybe tentatively at first, and maybe tentative will be good. It will give Crowley time to see trouble coming before it's right on his doorstep knocking.]

I'm not so sure you'll even want to hear it.

[He presses a couple of fingers against his chest in the curl.]

You could do it to me. The name. Then it's balanced. And...and I'm involved instead of just...helplessly grieving the fact that any version of me did that to you when you didn't know what you were asking.

Well, I know what I'm asking. And I'm very much in my right mind.

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