demonicmiracle | (duplicity) ic contact

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.

I'll tell you, I promise.

[He knows what it feels like to constantly be holding back, and he doesn't want Aziraphale to have to deal with that more than necessary. Neither of them can truly let go, but the constant worry about overstepping or hurting him is more stress than he needs.

Crowley rubs his thumb over the back of Aziraphale's hand, bracing himself for what's coming and glad that he did. There's no hiding the sharp little inhale, but he doesn't react aside from that, forcing himself to stay calm.

The idea of hurting him like that makes him want to recoil, to pull away as if somehow even touching him might risk it, but he... understands the rationale. He exhales slowly, letting out his fear with it.]

I get it, why you're asking. Offering. Thing is I don't know if I could do it, in the most literal meaning of the word. [Not that he isn't emotionally capable, but that he doesn't know how to physically make it happen.] I was divine, once, you've never been infernal. Not sure how I'd manage it without actually hurting you.

[It does give him an idea of something he could do, but he might sit on that for a little while.]

[He nods. He suspected that. It's not an easy thing to do. As he has already expressed, he has doubts at his current level of experience with such things, he could have done it to Crowley without discorporating him or worse.

But that's Crowley. Not himself.]

If I have the proper glyph, I can do it to myself to the same effect. It's not about who does it. It's about the sigil. Your infernal name would be enough.

[Almost idly, he traces the sigil over the back of Aziraphale's hand, considering the implications of this. This is a significant thing that's being offered, more than talk about wedding rings and lockets, something truly permanent. It makes him feel dizzy, a little, that Aziraphale is even willing.]

Would it hurt?

[He doesn't say the way it hurt me, but he's sure the implication is clear.]

Yes. I'm not afraid of that. You shouldn't be afraid of it for me.

[After all, he experienced it in a much rougher, less controlled way than he would ever do it to himself.]

Set that concern aside for the moment. Understand that...it will be every bit as binding as the one in you. Do you want that? If you say no, I'll understand.

I remember what it felt like, how can I not?

[He doesn't want Aziraphale to hurt that way, even if it's only a temporary pain. Still, he does what he's told, setting that concern aside, thinking about what this means beyond the pain.]

Let me think about it for a bit? I realize the irony here, but I don't think I should make this sorta decision lightly.

[He nods, brows pinching in the middle. It likely aches, still. How could it not?]

Take the time you need. I don't want to rush you. Just understand I'm serious about it, and I'm not going to change my mind unless you tell me no. I won't do anything until I hear either way.

[He appreciates the time, though he knew it would be given, but there are still a few things he needs to check.]

You know you don't owe me this, right? You don't have to hurt yourself because I was hurt. I don't mind carrying it alone.

Yes, I know that.

[He lifts his hand, stroking his cheek with the backs of his fingers.]

When you...when you brushed up against it, it felt... [He closes his eyes, searching for words.] You were right there. Right with me.

[He opens them again, searching his gaze. He's not sure he knows for what.]

I want that all the time. And for you to be able to have it. For you to...to have me. Do you understand?

[There's something open and soft and surprised in his expression, as he meets Aziraphale's gaze.]

Oh.

[It's a quiet exclamation, a point that he hadn't even considered. That Aziraphale might want this, for more than just guilt or to make things balanced between them.

He catches that hand, takes his time kissing each fingertip, then sets it back against his cheek.]

I understand, I do. And I want that, too. Let me think about it, I won't make you wait long, one way or another.

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