demonicmiracle | (duplicity) ic contact

[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.

Then prepare yourself. Challenge accepted.

[Is he ready? Is he?]

Mmm. No, I rather think this is just for us in private. I don't want anyone else seeing how you smile when I touch you like this.

[Not true jealousy. However, he does feel this is intimate, not a trick to pull on him or take him off guard around other people. Not only does Crowley have his pride, he can get anxious when he's vulnerable, understandably so.]

I know, and it's so lovely.

[He leans into his touch, still smiling. Rather than continuing with the separate pulses, he simply opens to him again, warm and effusive.]

This is always for you, whenever you want. It burns for you all the time. I burn for you.

[Crowley makes such a face, all scrunched up and fussy before he brings his hands up to hide it, muffling his laughter and hoping to cover the color on his cheeks.]

You're so bloody embarrassing.

[He's playing it up slightly, being over dramatic to see if it gets a laugh, but he is genuinely flustered, too. He drops his hands, holding them against his chest instead, as if he needs to keep his heart contained so it won't spill out with how full it is.]

How am I supposed to deal with all that, hm? I burn for you. You're killing me, angel.

Look at you, pretending like you're not eating it up.

[Oh, yes, he's laughing. He's charmed in seeing the blush. It's not the easiest thing, earning that.]

It's the truth. I have to deal with it. You may as well, too.

[He covers Crowley's hands with his in a gentle spread and rest of fingers on knuckles and the backs of fingers, feather light.]

Mmmnope, I don't have to, actually. I've a secret weapon.

[The secret weapon is that he leans in again, tucks himself under Aziraphale's chin and shifts, leaving a serpent draped across the angel's lap and resting against his chest. Crowley nudges at his throat, a little flick of tongue against his skin as though he needs to confirm it's him.

Now he's immune to being embarrassed. Somehow.]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject