demonicmiracle | (duplicity) ic contact

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.

[He smiles faintly. It's worth that expression, regardless of what he decides.

His gaze drops to his lips on his fingers. It's so unbelievably tender. It fills him with warmth. He cups his cheek again when allowed, his thumb gentle, tracing the line from his nose to the corner of his mouth.]

All right. I'm glad you understand. I'm glad I could finally tell you.

[He strokes his hair back behind his ear, draws the edge of his thumb down the side of his throat.]

[Crowley smiles, head tilting towards the touch like a flower towards the sun.]

How long have you been sitting on this, angel?

[If he'd brought it up at any other time, Crowley might have balked at it and immediately shot it down, but for you to have me are resting warm and bright in his chest.

It feels like a proposal, more than a ring, more than moving in together. It would be binding them together, permanently.]

For a little while. After I got over the initial shock of it, and you allowed me to poke around some to figure out what it is and what it does. I realized it would be feasible.

[It had taken him much longer to work out why he'd want to do such a thing, to make sure it wasn't just guilt talking, because that would be such a tremendous disservice to both of them.]

Then I had to just...get myself sorted. And well...finding the timing for this sort of conversation isn't easy. You helped when you didn't leave and didn't retreat into silence with me.

[It makes sense that he's been ruminating on this for a while; Aziraphale is the type to mull things over for a while, at least outside of sex, apparently.]

I've had enough of running away. [Especially from Aziraphale.] Thanks for giving it some time, for thinking about it first.

[They both needed some time for it to stop being such a fresh wound.

He leans in again, covers his face in a few lazy kisses.]

Have I mentioned lately that I love you?

It deserved thought.

[He can't know what hearing that one thing, that he's had enough of running away does for him.

He kisses him back when and where he can reach him. Hands on his shoulders, down his arms, tucking in against his waist.]

It has been at least an hour. I was about to wilt away for pining.

[Crowley finds himself laughing, a quiet chuckle at the touches and those words. That moment hits again, where it feels like it's time to move past the heavier conversation and into something lighter.]

You're talking to me about pining? Me, of all people?

A whole hour, Crowley.

[All too happy to lay it on thick. Eye batting and all.]

Oh, you poor dear. [He shifts around until he's straddling Aziraphale's thighs again, serpentine enough to make the movement seem graceful. And then he holds his face in his hands and absolutely covers him in kisses, punctuating every one with an:] I love you.

[Butterflies. A ridiculous amount of them, to the point he can hardly contain himself. Never would he have imagined it of him, or that he'd want this, both silly and deeply sweet. By the time he's finishing, he's laughing and blushing all at the same time and then seeking to hide his face against his throat, because he can't take it anymore.]

What am I going to do with you?

[A soft murmur against warm skin.]

Aside from love you to the entropy death of the universe?

[Hey. It's romantic. For an angel.]

All of this is starting to thread back through and color other memories. Does that ever happen to you? Time bleed? It only happens when I'm very happy or very sad.

[The laugh and the blush were exactly what he was after. He winds his arms around Aziraphale's shoulders, holding him tightly.]

Anything you like, angel. [just a slight tease, a hint of a purr in it.] But that sounds like a start. It's as long as I plan to love you for.

[He's said as much to Pru, that this was forever.]

Oh, my memory's rubbish anyway, except for the important stuff. [Except for you goes unsaid.] What sort of memories is it coloring?

Mmm, anything covers an awful lot. [He gently lips the side of his throat, not quite over the spot, but close to it.]

As long as you're my last sight, I'll go happy.

[And perhaps it's morbid, but he can picture them entwined and frozen as the last of the motion and life comes to a true halt. Eternally bound.]

It's hard to describe. It's...a feeling. A blush. It paints everything more vividly, and...close. It makes me feel more connection in each of those moments. The thermos. The church. The way you danced across the floor because it was stinging your feet. Oh, I loved you so much in that moment, even before you saved the books.

I could have kissed you outright.

[And then he's on the spot, nuzzling, softly dragging his lips, breath warm through their part.]

My coat. Such a sweet kindness. You always had such a flair in your miracles.

[He presses a longer kiss, a more deliberate drag of both lips, a touch of tongue.]

I love you. [With it he sends a pulse of his love through his hold of him, a light flutter of it. Another. Another, each accompanied by whispers of the same. "I love you..."]

[Crowley hums a soft sound, head tipped to the side to grant him access. It might be morbid, but it's the best end they can hope for, a sort of quiet coming together as everything ends. They can't have a true eternity together, not the way they could in Heaven or Hell, but maybe that's better. They can appreciate their time together more.]

No wonder you like all that Byronic nonsense, you sound like you're one of them.

[He's a little breathless as he says it, half from the words, half from the touches. His grip tightens on Aziraphale's shoulders, fingers pressing in.]

I've flair in everything I do, thank you. Not only the miracles.

[Every wave of love draws a soft gasp as he squirms a little in his lap.]

Careful, angel, you're gonna give me a bloody Pavlovian reaction to that feeling.

Someone should romance you properly. It ought to be me.

[More soft "I love you's," more of the pulses, a little stronger now, deeper, but still only love, no sting of divinity.]

You say that as though it's a bad thing.

[He comes away from his throat to raise his head and look at him, his smile a full, sunny blossom that deeply reaches his eyes.]

I love you. [He presses it lightly over his heart, careful of the mark.]

I'd be alright with that, being romanced.

[He might agree to anything when he's being loved like this, in a way he can actually feel, a quantifiable sensation. It's not that he doesn't believe Aziraphale when he says the words, but it's different to sense it, the way he used to be able to sense God's love. Only better, because this is freely given, not something that was built into him.]

Could be, if you start breaking that out in public. [There's a huff, then he sighs.] That's not a suggestion.

[Despite all that, he's smiling, lightly touching Aziraphale's cheek.]

I love you, too.

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