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[It's probably a little unfair when Martin is a bit flustered, but Crowley hums a bit of a laugh, anyway.]

I can pull someone if I have to, no need to feel responsible for me. [If there was ever a month where he didn't get to see Martin much for whatever reason, he'd just go back to doing what he usually does. Joking aside, he doesn't ever want Martin to feel obligated.] M'just sort of indifferent to sex, yeah? With strangers, I mean.

[Clarifying there, in case Martin starts to worry.]

[ he takes a minute to examine his own thoughts about it. is it that he feels responsible? he doesn't think that's it. he's not responsible for crowley; the demon is an ancient being that's been looking out for himself longer than humanity's existed. ]

It's not that, it's.. you're my lover. [ that's maybe the best label to slap on their relationship for now. ] I love our sex-life. I don't know what I'm trying to say, just.. I love you, I want you to be safe. I guess?

[From the little quirk of Crowley's mouth, it might be obvious he's not sure if he's settled on lover being the right word, but he doesn't protest it.]

We've had this conversation. [His tone is gentle, though.] Big scary demon, yeah? No one's going to hurt me.

[That's not true, not with the city the way it is, but he'd like to believe it and maybe if he says it enough, he can make it true.

And anyway, no one can destroy him, so it's fine. Anything else he can bear.]

[ he gives him a slightly arch look. if crowley has a better word for it, he's listening.. because martin has no idea. it's not like he's ever had this with anyone before crowley.

he subsides a moment later, though, a shoulder lifting in a slightly nervous shrug. ] I know you're powerful. But.. I'm only human. I'm protective anyway. [ especially since he knows crowley's more vulnerable than he likes admitting or allowing people to see. ]

[They both know he doesn't have a better descriptor for it, the language is stupid and incredibly lacking.]

S'alright, I know. [That Martin is protective, that he worries despite the fact there's very little that can be done to Crowley that hasn't already been done.

He feels like they've reached the point where anything more would just be repeating themselves, so he draws Martin into a brief kiss, then:] That's enough of that, I reckon. The city gave me something. Photos that Heaven took of Aziraphale and me. Want to see 'em?

[ he returns the kiss, but then brightens like a christmas tree at the offer. ]

Yes! [ he's already releasing crowley to slide down off the counter, tea and kisses forgotten in his eagerness to finally see crowley's angel. ] I can't believe the city actually gave you something nice. Are they recent photos? I suppose he wouldn't have changed much, though, would he?

Don't start thinking too kind thoughts about the place, they gave them to that bloody priest, forced me to deal with him just to get them.

[Honestly, aside from a few missteps, his conversation with Anderson wasn't entirely awful. Better than last time, at least. It's just the principal of the thing.

Rather than tell Martin how recent they are, Crowley just gives him a gentle nudge. He can find out for himself.]

They're on the coffee table, in the prophecy book.

The one Jon talks to..? [ he doesn't know of any other priest here, anyway.

he takes crowley's hand as they move to the living area and the couch, presses a kiss to it before he releases it to sit down and pull the book onto his lap.

he flips it open until he finds the photos, spreading them out over the pages of the book. for a few moments, he's caught just staring at who can only be aziraphale, taking more note of his features and body language than anything else. ]

He looks kind, [ he says after a moment, lifting one of them carefully. ] Also like he can be snippy when he wants, though? [ posh, maybe, is the better word for it. ]

Edited 2020-01-01 04:59 (UTC)

Anderson's his name, he's an asshole. Hope it's the same one and I don't have to deal with two of them.

[Although really, Anderson seems to be something of a special case, more than just a member of the clergy. Crowley isn't about to ask, though.

Crowley hovers for a moment, suddenly uncertain, before taking a seat beside Martin, waiting for his.... verdict, he supposes.] That's — that's not inaccurate. He's a bit fussy, can be a right bastard when he has to be.

[It's clear this is a good thing, in Crowley's opinion.]

Mm, that's him. Jon seems to like him, but I don't think he always treats Jon very well.

[ he leans into his side when crowley joins him, smiles at the description. ] No wonder you like him. He.. suits you. [ he's not sure how else to describe it. ] The two of you look like you.. fit. [ they complement one another well, and martin likes that aziraphale looks.. sturdy? very there, not ethereal or delicate. he seems like the sort of person normal people just like.

he kisses crowley's shoulder a little distractedly, then notices something he'd missed. he plucks up the photo with the ruffled collars and grins, tilting his head up to look properly at the other man. ] Crowley, your beard.

[Considering he still feels sort of wrung out from his earlier conversation, Crowley doesn't want to retread the same ground, so he just hums to show that he's heard and leaves it at that.

It's for the best, anyway, since everything that Martin says next leaves him a bit lost for words. First, he's just flustered and emotional, before it tips into faux indignation. Crowley makes a few useless sounds before he lands on actual words.] That was the fashion! Plenty of men were sporting those sorts of beards, how was I to know it'd seem ridiculous by today's standards.

[ he carefully sets the book and photos back on the coffee table and then loops an arm around crowley's neck, tugging him down to kiss him firmly. ] Well, [ he teases as he releases him, ] I mean, if that was the fashion..

[ his fingers curl in the shorter strands of hair at the other man's nape. ] Thankfully, your hair more than made up for the beard. [ he has such nice waves or curls when he wants them. martin could be jealous if he didn't get the benefit of getting his hands in them. ]

Where was that one taken, by the way? Or.. when, maybe. What were the two of you doing?

Shut up. [The words are mostly lost to the kiss, muttered against Martin's lips in the few seconds Crowley has before he's distracted.

Because he has to steal another kiss, once there's a hand in his hair. That's just the rules.]

Oh, that's at the Globe, must've been early 17th century, we'd both received orders to head up to Edinburgh, so we tossed for it. Don't think he ever realized I cheated on those all the time.

[The coin tosses, that is.]

[ those are the rules, and martin would never dream of breaking the rules. he hums contentedly into the kiss, but lets crowley pull back to explain the photo.

the admission of cheating makes martin gasp in mock-astonishment. ] Oh, how positively demonic. For shame. [ had aziraphale not realized, or had he just let crowley win? ] I think..

[ he trails off, glancing at the photos again. ] I hope he'd like me. I mean, if I were ever to meet him. I-- I wouldn't want him to come here any more than I want anyone to be trapped here. But.. I mean, if things had been different. Were different.

[He could point out that he had an angel doing his dirty work, tempting someone to steal, but there's enough lingering anxiety from having discovered the photos exist.]

All you'd have to do is bake something for him and you'll be his favourite human. [Sort of a joke, sort of absolutely the truth. But in the interest of proper reassurance, he adds:] You're easy to like, can't imagine any reason he'd not be as fond of you as I am.

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