sauntered_downward: (Default)
𝕮𝖗𝖔𝖜𝖑𝖊𝖞 ([personal profile] sauntered_downward) wrote2019-07-20 05:17 pm

for [personal profile] salutosinedelectat

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.
salutosinedelectat: (Default)

[personal profile] salutosinedelectat 2019-10-05 08:31 pm (UTC)(link)
What they have right now is, in several ways, and always will be, only theirs. In the more technical manner, it's quite obvious, as they are only themselves and with only each other, and not even God herself could change that - probably. But there's also something to say about two celestial creatures, formerly from opposite sides, rejected and having denounced their former peoples, after orbiting around each other for thousands of years, finally joined together in an honest sharing of feelings, and an intimate embrace, quite in the fashion of the mortal's they've been watching over, but with the added gifts of their own brand of non-humanity.

The feeling of Crowley's breath against his neck is one of the many details that Aziraphale will remember for a very long time. The feeling of his body against the angel's, and, well, other ways in which they are making use of their vessels in this moment, are something he'd love to feel again and again and again.

"Crowley--" The name escapes him, strained, with no control of his own. Those waves are getting stronger, getting closer. His wings twitch and unwrap from around him, but stay curled upwards.
salutosinedelectat: (Default)

[personal profile] salutosinedelectat 2019-10-06 12:30 am (UTC)(link)
He should ask the angel. He might might like the answer.

His wings flex and softly hit against the bed as he arches his back. He holds on tight, the music their share growing louder and louder and clearer. There's somewhere to go, of course, and he wants to reach it with him, but there are some things he don't want to end, such as the brand new connection they're sharing.

But there's no need to get ahead of themselves. His breathing gets more ragged and eager - of all the times he's bound to forget he doesn't need it, clearly this is one the thought is miles away -, and every time Crowley moves, every movement they make together is another note on this crescendo, growing louder and closer to the climax, and Aziraphale hears him, hears his voice, hears his soul, and he could swear they could become one right then.
salutosinedelectat: (Default)

congratulations, snek man, u did it

[personal profile] salutosinedelectat 2019-10-06 01:10 am (UTC)(link)
When that one note hits and the song reaches its apex, when he feels himself peak, when Crowley calls out his name so warm against his neck, everything else stops existing for all the angel can tell.

He digs his fingers into Crowley's back and cranes his head back against the bed, gasping deeply as pleasure runs through his body like a shot of electricity and seizes up every part of his body. His toes curl and his wings stretch out to each side as wide as they go, merely lucky to not hit anything in the way, but he wouldn't have minded, he wouldn't have cared, because nothing else would have mattered but this.

The song is loud and booming. The waves finally crash into shore. Something around them changes, but it'll have to wait. For now, he's forgotten, and for now, Heaven be told, he's feeling the best he's ever felt in who knows how long.

salutosinedelectat: Wings, Crowley, eden (I'll cover you)

[personal profile] salutosinedelectat 2019-10-06 01:51 am (UTC)(link)
Wherever they go, it'll have to wait too. Which isn't so bad, all things considered.

As his senses come trickling back down into wherever they had floated off from, he's slowly catching his breath, lying comfortably as his muscles relax, wings draped lazily over the bed.

Aziraphale leans his face against Crowley's touch, turning his head to kiss his palm. He brings his hand up to hold the back of Crowley's gently, opening his eyes just a little, looking down at him.
salutosinedelectat: Smile (aw.)

[personal profile] salutosinedelectat 2019-10-06 02:25 am (UTC)(link)
Some things have changed. Others have not, such as time and time again deciding that they'll be together. Aziraphale, much to his regret, has not always been on that same page. But that's where one of the changes lies.

He keeps his hand over the back of Crowley's, gently keeping it against his face, giving the demon a soft, fond smile, with perhaps a bit more of gentle giddiness to his eyes. His other hand is still intertwined with Crowley's.

"Yes." Quiet and light. Loving all the same, as the connection they shared doesn't seem to have quite faded.

salutosinedelectat: (Default)

Tmw getting laid broke their depression

[personal profile] salutosinedelectat 2019-10-07 01:11 am (UTC)(link)
Six thousand years... And he couldn't even dream of a night like this.

Maybe angels are just bad at dreaming. They're certainly bad at seeing things for what they really are, whatever that could mean. Good at denial. Good at stubbornness. Good at rejecting what's not in the plan. Aziraphale had been good at those things, and not many others, but he's happy to be mostly letting them go. Well, at least those relating to his former side.

He hums quietly into the kiss, just a simple expression of the happy calmness of his mind. Opens his eyes slightly when it his broken, feeling warm and cozy and fuzzy, and all those little words associated to when one is happy and content.

He pulls his hand away from Crowley's and touches his cheek in turn, admiring the demon's face for a moment. Just letting the thoughts and the now gently float through his mind. There is a lot to think about, many new things to process. But he'll take a little while longer of looking at his demon, thank you.
salutosinedelectat: Smile (aw.)

[personal profile] salutosinedelectat 2019-10-08 03:59 pm (UTC)(link)
The angel chuckles softly, brushing his thumb on Crowley’s cheek. Despite the horrifying evening they had before this, everything feels so distant now. Barely a dream, a nightmare to just forget. In fact, it might take him a bit to remembered just all that happened and how close both of them had gotten to total destruction.

He tilts his head slightly, still resting against the bed, just looking up at him with soft, adoring eyes.

“Couldn’t have dreamed of it.” Really couldn’t, if he had to be honest. He could never imagine life would be so full of surprises.

He moves his hand from Crowley’s to the back of his neck, idly brushing against his hair.
salutosinedelectat: (Default)

[personal profile] salutosinedelectat 2019-10-11 12:27 am (UTC)(link)
He would have liked that. He would have liked if everything had a pace that only they and their minds had a hand on. He would have liked if everything had been a lot more gentle and careful.

But he's happy to be here right now. He's happe in this. He's glad that, despite everything thing, they have-- they made this.

The angel blinks when Crowley mentions the food and drink. A second to remember what he's talking about, another second before he's chuckling quietly before he can help it, so he brings a hand up to hold the back of it to his mouth.

He doesnt mean to laugh. There's just something about it that is so... Endearing. And there's some of the ridiculousness that life may have, in its extremes and conflicting moments of blandness.

And, maybe, he's just happy.
salutosinedelectat: Smile, neutral (Heh heh)

[personal profile] salutosinedelectat 2019-10-13 01:01 am (UTC)(link)
It's all been too much. Too much of too many things, but look, they've made it through, and with a rather good rating of success, too. And the conclusion wasn't too shabby, either. Yes, it's been a rather long day, and he's more than happy to take this moment to breathe, as it were.

"Seems fitting, I believe." Not that he's much for smoking, but it feels like part of the whole image. But he makes a bit of a face. "It wouldn't be too nice to smoke in such a rather pleasant place though, would it?"

Give him a moment to be his gently fussy self. It still all sounds more like idle teasing than anything serious.
salutosinedelectat: Neutral, listening, drunk (Have you heard about wine)

[personal profile] salutosinedelectat 2019-10-13 11:31 pm (UTC)(link)
The angel raises his brows, vaguely surprised by that tidbit about Hell's company rules. "Really? Hum." Although, from what he saw down there, most of the place is a fire hazard. Hard not to wonder what would happen if you added the presence of lit cigarettes. Also, the smell. Ghastly, that.

"But we could, yes." He glances around as well, actually taking a proper look around this time. Simple. Minimalist. The coziness of it perhaps enhanced by the demon sharing the bed and an embrace with him. "It has its charm, I think. Not that--well, not that our choices are that extensive." If they want to remain safe, anyway.

His mind wants to get going on all future possibilities again, the risks, the dangers, but he much rather take in the comfort for now.
salutosinedelectat: Neutral (pretty)

[personal profile] salutosinedelectat 2019-10-15 11:04 am (UTC)(link)
The angel looks at him, close as they are, with a thoughtful look on his face, albeit a gentle one. It’s funny, really, how things feel a little bit less...well, not less pressing, as they do very much need to ensure their own survival, but, in the very least, time seems tp have slowed down, even if just for a few hours. Lying here, like this, with him, after what they just shared, makes everything else not feel as overwhelming. And the irony of that detail, considering what had always kept them from true honesty, kept him from facing what was there, is not lost on Aziraphale.

But he soon smiles. Bringing up a hand to hold onto Crowley’s, he reaches the other to the back of the demon’s neck, brushing his thumb on the small hairs on his nape.

“That would be too dangerous.” And he’d make more of a fuss about it, but the moment calls for softness. He’s happy to deliver. “Much rather have you safe. Here.” A beat, and a coy, quiet tone. “With me.”

Not that the angel believes he can guarantee safety. But he can try. And having Crowley rush into Heaven making demands seems to maybe go directly against that.
salutosinedelectat: (Default)

[personal profile] salutosinedelectat 2019-10-19 02:42 am (UTC)(link)
They'll have to figure it out. They'll have to. And they've had other times in the past where they did, too. At least this time there won't be time wasted in running around pretending to still be playing for opposite sides.

The demon presses his lips on his chest and the touch, the feeling is still something so new, but so right. Warm and comforting in ways Aziraphale never considered he could have.

But it brings to attention the mark that's right there. Looking at it again, even just what he can see, what little Crowley isn't in the way or, is still rather...

Had the Duke actually damaged his vessel in a way he couldn't change? The idea, feasible enough, still bothers him. He's happy to still be alive to feel anything at all about it, or course, specially without knowing what would happen if he got discorporated, or whether his essence could ever survive such an attack, but he really could do without such a... Mark.

"Then I can count myself lucky, my dear." Pulling up the same sort of soft hopeful tone, after a pause.
salutosinedelectat: Listening, serious (Hmm.)

[personal profile] salutosinedelectat 2019-10-21 11:42 pm (UTC)(link)
There is something to say about the angel, which he doesn't himself realize: despite all the risks he takes when he's cornered and feels like there's absolutely no other way around a situation, at least he gets results. And the result, in this case, had been a discorporated Duke, an extension on their rate of survival, and a nasty scar to remember everything by.

They did, at least, find their way to relative safety and had a rather...thorough series of intimate moments, so he'd count most of it on the positive. Much better than expected, considering their last few months.

He hums mutely. "I've never quite been much for sleeping." He idly reaches a hand to gently brush a few loose hairs away from Crowley's brow. "But I do suppose I could give it a try."

Less for the sleep, and more for just a couple of hours of rest, of nothing, after how chaotic everything's been. As long as they can remain in each other's arms.

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ugly cackle

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lmfao the videos bit

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