for salutosinedelectat

[sauntered_downward]

Follows this.

They couldn't just teleport themselves there. Any miracles, demonic or otherwise, would attract too much attention. No, Crowley was actually going to have to sit there, plugging their information into an online search engine, and do it all manually. Fluctuating airline prices were demonic work, and right now a trip to Japan was over six thousand pounds more expensive than if he had bought it three days earlier, which was totally outrageous. Crowley didn't know a lot about money except what it made men do to each other, he'd never had to. But now, making money appear out of nothing could turn the wrong eye on them if he wasn't careful.

Luckily, he had quite a few credit cards that never needed paying or had a limit on them. They would work in a pinch for a moment like this. He didn't know if that sort of perk-of-being-a-demon could ever be taken away from him, but he hoped not.

The flight itself was a long one, and Crowley settled himself in for it by making sure they were flying at least first class. That way they could see everyone coming at them and have a few glasses of wine on the journey.

"I don't think they know about these passports," Crowley says. "They might, but I doubt it. I had them made back during the last World War, just kept them in good condition."

The second World War was something that Crowley took responsibility for, but he hated every moment of it, and what his side did to make it worse made him sick. He was more than prepared to hide away if he needed to when things went wrong back then. And, at the time, he had also created a passport for Aziraphale, in case he wanted to come along. No other reason for that, he told himself.

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[salutosinedelectat]

This whole business is a bit too much of a mess, he feels. Without using miracles to get past all of the little bothersome things, it was all entirely too cumbersome and stressful, something they really didn't need while they were already worried about being caught at any second. It made Aziraphale's mood fluctuate in... "interesting" manners, between staring out windows for far too long, as if expecting the forces of Heaven and/or Hell to simply saunter on and put an end to all of this, or the angel being far too confused over some modern details when it came to travelling - really, who deemed it necessary to make it all so complicated? -, or sometimes even sounding a bit too snappy or harsh, which he usually quickly apologized for.

But he thinks about Japan. He thinks about the sights and sounds, the lights, the food. His demonic friend by his side, both of them watching each other's back. It will be fine.

They will be fine. He has to believe that. There would have not been anywhere else to go if the world had ended, but there's nowhere else for them to go to hide in now. All they have is each other.

"I don't think they know what they are." The Angels, at least, he's quite sure don't know anything about human conventions, present or otherwise. "Will they do?"

[sauntered_downward]

"My lot barely knows what a computer is," Crowley says. "But I wouldn't put it past them to figure out my Expedia password if they needed to."

No, Crowley was the one who had the imagination. He created the things that modernized with the world. They liked regular temptations, they liked to fight and stick to their...normal machinations. Crowley grew. They didn't. In that way, Crowley had an advantage. They both did. They could use human tools to escape. But at the same time, it meant that the demons could learn and Crowley wouldn't expect it at all.

He takes a sip of his wine. First class, as much wine as they want on their bill.

"Check in, then we'll explore a bit?"

[salutosinedelectat]

He notices how Crowley still calls Hell 'his lot', though he makes no remark on it. Not that he blames him, some things are just too ingrained to change just like that. And the one much farther behind most times, Aziraphale would know.

And, yes, he's certainly taking good advantage of the miracle of the first class wine tab, thank you very much. It settles his nerves.

" Hm, yes." He's still distracted, but he tries to focus on good things. "Perhaps we can catch something a bit better than airline food." As first class as it might be.

[sauntered_downward]

It's impossible for Crowley to disassociate himself from Hell. In his mind, he's always the one from Hell, Aziraphale is always the one from Heaven. But here they are, and the only side they're really on is their own side. The only ones they have are each other. And still, it feels like cheating, sitting here next to him in public, sharing a drink (or, well, actually several at this point) with him like they belong together, the stewardess treating them like a couple on holiday together.

"Did you know there's a whole section of Hell that only serves airline food?" he says. "Whole swath of it, you have to eat nothing but airline food. And it's not like they starve you first, so it tastes good. They give it to you all the time so you get very, very tired of it. There's a whole section of hell that's all diner food, too----half the staff, that's their punishment, being the ones to serve it. Vicious world, down there."

[salutosinedelectat]

After it's all said and done, after all the times Aziraphale was the one pointing out their respective sides and Crowley the one trying to get him to see the truth, it's not in Aziraphale's heart to point out any kind of lingering sentiment. He rather enjoy the wine.

The angel pulls a face, twisting his nose at the idea of an eternity of airline food. "Good Lord. That sounds-- " Hellish.. " incredibly unpleasant."

[sauntered_downward]

"It's Hell, angel, I don't think they were trying to make it a walk in the park," Crowley replies. "Most of it is very...mundane. Sort of reliving things that are awful on Earth over and over again. Some of it is boiling lava and..."

He looks down into his wine glass. "I don't think that's where they'd send me if they catch us. But I don't even know anymore. Might just execute me."

That's a thought. Which would be worse? Eternal torment, or just not existing at all? Neither sounds particularly great for Crowley. Angels might send Aziraphale down to Hell, and that would just be terrifying. The angel would be torn apart.

[salutosinedelectat]

The angel looks at him, flashes of the trial going through his head. The pointlessness of it, the spectacle in an otherwise drab and dreary place. The lack of hesitation in destroying one of their own.

(Little does the angel know that not all cold cruelty resides in Hell. Despite everything he's witnessed. )

He puts a hand on Crowley's arm. "Well, we'll just have to make sure that doesn't happen." He certainly has no intention of letting Crowley getting dragged back to that place, nor of himself stepping foot in Heaven again. He might sometime lose his nerve, but he rather avoid the demon's mind wandering too far. "Rather...we could think about what we should see, first." He forces a gentle smile.

[sauntered_downward]

Crowley allows himself a lazy smile at the angel's touch. There's something delightfully domestic about this, about just being two people on holiday together, getting a little wine drunk on a long flight to Japan. What would it be like, Crowley wonders, if they were just two humans? Just two human men, enjoying their time together? If they could just have one life like this? Nah, what they have had is fantastic, and it took 6000 years to get there. A short human life would never have been enough.

"Oh, I don't know," he says, taking another sip of wine. "Something to eat, definitely. Go into the city? Take a walk-round, see what's in store there?"

[salutosinedelectat]

It wouldn't ever be enough. But they can, instead, have several of those lifetimes. They're lucky, in that sense.

"Are you willing to finally try sushi?" Of course, it'd be a lie to say that he hasn't been at least a little excited about that.

[sauntered_downward]

He looks at Aziraphale's excited stupid face and gives him another small smile. "Oh, all right," he says. "But if it isn't as good as you say it is, I reserve the right to be really, really put out by it."

The announcement over the intercom states that they will be landing shortly, both in English and in Japanese, and Crowley looks over Aziraphale out the window. The lights of the city are obscured by clouds at this altitude, but he thinks he can see them somewhat.

"So sushi and the city," he says. "Sounds like a plan for our next step."

[salutosinedelectat]

The demon's response leaves him with a glowing smile, just before he glances up at the intercom and then out the window.

He can pretend to forget why they're here. He can pretend it's just a holiday. A nice, fun holiday abroad with his...with Crowley.

"Yes." He sees some of the lights. They make him think of constellations. Or fireflies. "Perhaps some oolong-hai, if we can find it."

[sauntered_downward]

"Shouldn't be too hard," Crowley says. "We've got the internet---we just can't ask Google where to find it. Gave up its motto 'Do No Evil' once Hell got a hold of it."

Still, the searching might be fun. A distraction, something to keep them from having to look over their shoulder all of the time. And they would---completely unfamiliar place, completely new rules, and with everyone still looking for them. It was only sort of a holiday. They were still on the run.

Crowley looks down at his wine glass. He likes being about this level of wine drunk with Aziraphale It's fun, it's relaxing. At this point, they can sort of lean on each other and it's comfortable. He's not so stressed about the lines they've put up. But they're disembarking soon and---

"I suppose we should sober up before we go."

[salutosinedelectat]

"Oh, right." It hadn't quite been on his mind. He found the buzzing at the back of his head quite delightfully distracted, and didn't even notice when he had started leaning towards Crowley's side of the seat. He's also not really used to drinking in high altitudes, so that can be blamed for it.

He idly clears his throat, sits straight up, and closes his eyes for a moment, focusing for a moment. A deep breath and he's back to sobriety. A bit unfortunate, really, but one must do.

The angel looks out the window again, watching as the lights get closer, and he can't help but to smile a bit.

"This isn't so bad." So far, no ambushes. No undercover demonic or angelic agent in the plane. And the wine was pretty good. Doing great, all things considered.

[sauntered_downward]

Crowley closes his eyes, focuses, and feels sobriety hit him like the annoyingly loud blare of a television advertisement. He doesn't really want to be sober, but they aren't exactly on a real holiday. He can't laze his way through Japan as he'd like. If he had it his way, he'd wander, several more glasses in, at some point to the hotel, have a few more drinks, then go off and try this sushi thing that Aziraphale is so keen on.

Maybe one day. Maybe one day it won't be like this.

"Nah, I don't think they even know we're here yet," he says. "We've probably got a few---"

He blows air out of his lips as he considers. Days? Weeks? Months? Centuries? How long until they're going to be discovered? How long until one of them wises up and starts checking out what computers have been up to over the last hundred years or so?

"Well, a few."

[salutosinedelectat]

Maybe one day they'll have actual, lasting peace. That's what he wishes for.

He hums solemnly. Their earthly advantages are great, all things considered, but the cages are rattled. Who's to know Heaven and Hell won't learn to adapt, fueled by their anger over the angel's and the demon's indiscretions? Who's to say, even, if they won't work together? They showed actual willingness to do so, as both Aziraphale and Crowley witnessed. Pettiness can really go a long way.

"Hopefully, a good few." The angel's hands fidget, resting on his lap; he doesn't notice. The lights below are clearer still. "Would be a shame to leave too soon."

[sauntered_downward]

His hand moves of its own accord and covers Aziraphale's. He'd taken Aziraphale's hand once before, when they were in the hotel, waiting for something they thought was coming for them. It had felt right, it had felt like they were connected. Of course, Crowley had promptly disconnected the moment the danger was out of the way and that was----well, that was how they were, wasn't it? Always just a bit apart.

Now, all they have in the whole world is each other.

"Let's not think about leaving yet," he says. "We just got here."

[salutosinedelectat]

He's snapped out of whatever concerning train of thought he was getting himself stuck in, looking down at their hands, then at Crowley, for a moment just faltering silently. One of those moments where he doesn't seem to quite react, because there's too much to actually say. Which isn't a bad thing, per say- most times, it was over something good. And all times, it was something to do with Crowley.

He looks at their hands again. There's a bit of subtle, flustered smile to him. "Right." It's fine. They've outsmarted them before. "You're right."

[sauntered_downward]

"And we've got a whole country to explore here," he says. "They find us in one city, we'll just go to another. I'm not getting back on another plane unless I really have to."

This last part is said with a little more drama than is necessary because, of course, Crowley would much rather get on a plane than be destroyed by the armies of Heaven and Hell. All the same, he likes the idea of exploring with Aziraphale. Of being out of danger----even if it's only for a little while.

"We could have done this when we retired," he says. "Traveled. I never really thought about it, I liked London too much. But exploring the world as it grows and all that."

[salutosinedelectat]

He's still looking at their hands, not ending the contact if Crowley doesn't. His own have definitely stopped fidgeting, for what it's worth.

He looks at his companion. "Used to travel a lot more." Centuries and centuries ago. The world stopped needing them as much, and they got too wrapped up in their own things. "It'd be nice to see how everything's changed."

And didn't, you know, end.

[sauntered_downward]

Crowley remembers traveling. Always running into Aziraphale here and there. Sometimes in the most ridiculous of places. Also the dampest of places, which was always annoying. They could never just run into each other in a palace or something. Always had to be somewhere awful. Except in Rome, but that was just after he'd been trying to tempt Caligula, so he was in an awful mood. Then he got older, and...just sort of settled. It seemed the right thing to do. Didn't need anything that London didn't already provide.

Aziraphale was looking at their hands, and for a moment, Crowley thinks he's misjudged. No, no, he's gone one step too far, overstepped that very strict line between them that's always been there and Never To Be Crossed.

"Is this...?" All right? A question he should be asking? Yet another line not to be crossed?

[salutosinedelectat]

Aziraphale looks at him suddenly, and, also suddenly, words fail him at first. Anxiously awkward, but he keeps his tone most even. "Oh, it--yes." It's fine.

That line had always been there. He can't remember who drew it - him, or Heaven, or God, or someone else entirely. He can't quite append the responsibility to Crowley, if he starts thinking too much about it. But Crowley had always respected it.

The line started to look a bit faded since That Week ended. Maybe it's the light.

"Quite alright."

The seatbelt light pings overhead. The stewardess begins gently waking up the sleeping passengers and collecting empty glasses.

[sauntered_downward]

Quite alright. Crowley begins to let that simmer in his brain, because it could mean something completely different from actually all right, if he thinks hard enough about it and overanalyzes it. But then again, it could mean a lot of things. Maybe Crowley should pull back.

But they've stood next to each other through so much, isn't it time they at least allowed each other touch? Just this?

After all, it isn't like Heaven and Hell could get any more angry with them.

He considers all the things he could say, the things he probably should say, and has wanted to say for a very long time. Maybe now, now is a good time to say them. To Aziraphale, because---

The stewardess comes up to take their glasses, and Crowley turns, all but growling at her. Oh, but he hates people (who aren't Aziraphale). She immediately takes a step back, leaving them alone.

"Should put on our seatbelt."

omg that poor stewardess

[salutosinedelectat]

Aziraphale doesn't even have the time to smile apologetically to the young woman, but he's definitely not going to berate Crowley. It's difficult, finding the time to just...find their footing, as it were. He would know.

"Oh." He straightens up, and his hands twitch. "Yes, right." Right.


He still glances down at their hands, just a moment. And, for just a moment, pulls one of his own over Crowley's, thumb brushing over his knuckles.

Something is else is said over the intercom, but he doesn't pay attention to it. After another moment, he moves to put his seat belt on.

she deserves it! maybe

[sauntered_downward]

There is the passive touch, of a hand in a hand, and then there is the active touch, of Aziraphale's thumb running across Crowley's knuckles. And Crowley feels himself hold his breath for a moment, because that sort of touch, it can mean something, it could mean something unsaid. Something that needed to be said.

"Angel---" he starts, but the words get caught in his throat. What does he say? If there aren't any lines, where do they stand?

[salutosinedelectat]

It does mean something. It means something he can't quite say, can't neither call a request or a question or even a statement. It means something, but he doesn't know how to explain what that meaning is.

"--Yes?" He looks up at him, pausing halfway through his fiddling with the seatbelt. And there's something there, too, and part of it is the guilt of putting the question in Crowley's hands.

It's a loaded look, but there's vague, nervous hope in it.


Though this is hardly the best time and place for this conversation, which he's also painfully aware of.