sauntered_downward | for salutosinedelectat

for 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.

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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.

If only they could stay like this forever. Just wrapped up in each other, in love, without any interference from the outside world. Crowley would like that. They might've had it, too, if Heaven and Hell hadn't gotten in the way. They might've found their way here eventually, and lived out their lives in London in each others' arms.

But at least they have this, now.

"Still have that sushi," he says, with a little smile. "And the sake. Saved up for whenever you want it."

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.

Crowley raises an eyebrow at the laughter. It's not what he expected, but it's certainly not unwelcome. And, perhaps, the moment is a bit much, isn't it? The whole day, which started with them on a plane and has ended up with them here in bed together, has been a bit much, too.

But he's not afraid anymore. Not so long as they're together.

Crowley has never been happier than he is in this moment, lying with the angel. He's been in love with him for a long, long time. But now, right now, they're both openly in love with each other. No fear, no one to stop them. The outside world is a thing for later. They have each other now.

"I don't really know what else we do in a moment like this," he says. "Smoke a cigarette, maybe?"

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.

"Did you know, Hell is actually non-smoking. Have to go outside the gates if you want one," he says. Not that Crowley really smokes, either. It's more Hastur's deal to smoke when he's trying to be intimidating.

He looks around the room a bit. "It's not bad here. We could stay here as long as you want. Get our bearings, see if they start looking elsewhere for us."

He has no idea what Heaven and Hell will do next. All he knows is he intends to stay with Aziraphale. Maybe order a takeaway, open another bottle or two of wine, and take advantage of what they've started.

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.

"I'm sure we can find other places all over the world," Crowley says. "Buddhist temples in China. India. All over. And I'm sure with the right nudging they'd let us stay, even if they aren't airBNBs."

What Crowley is trying to say is that they aren't trapped here. It might feel a little like it, because they're pursued on all sides without a real escape route right now. But that's a problem for later.

He reaches out and brushes his fingertips across Aziraphale's cheek.

"You could still let me go march into Heaven and demand they leave you alone."

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.

Crowley leans down, pressing a kiss to the angel's chest right above the black mark left there by Hastur. This is really the first real battle scar they'll have to endure in this struggle, he knows. There will be others, on both sides. There will be more fights, more problems, more times they'll have to run.

But right now, they have this.

"Nowhere in the universe I'd rather be," he says, pressing another kiss to the angel's chest. "Than with you."

It's the truth. The whole world can shove it for all Crowley cares. He'd walk right into Heaven without a second thought if it could ensure they'd have every night like this together. But he can wait. They can figure something out together.

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.

Lucky. Crowley thinks they're both lucky to be alive after this evening, really. Lucky to have found a moment of reprieve to just be together. Things could have gone so much worse.

If Aziraphale had been discorporated, Heaven should've expected Crowley to come knocking at their door for his angel. He wouldn't just leave him there, hoping they'd let him out. That's for damn sure. If Aziraphale were gone forever----that's something Crowley can't bear to think about.

"Do you want to sleep?" he offers. "Get more rest for you?"

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.

Crowley could sleep. He rather likes sleeping. Turning his mind off for a bit, letting dreams take over for a while. He's spent whole decades napping before and that's never been a problem for him. Can't exactly do that here, of course. Too much at stake to waste a few months or years asleep.

And that would mean less time with Aziraphale. He can't imagine sleeping away this time right now.

"Do you ever dream?" he asks. "Best part of sleeping, the dreaming part."

The expression on the angel’s face is soft and gently thoughtful. As emotions settle down into a comfortable quiet, he truly does appreciate this as a space made their own. Everything feels a little lighter. Everything feels a little fuzzier. He doesn’t remember any time he really felt like this.

He thinks about the question, looking in the middle distance for a moment, a hand resting on Crowley’s back and his thumb gently brushing against the skin.

“Well, I haven’t actually...slept in a rather long time.” Always found something to do. Some other way to spend his time. “So I can’t remember the last time I’ve dreamt. But I assume it’s...possible.”

"Dream about all sorts of things," he says. "About the past, about the future. About the Bentley flying over Heaven while we flip your superiors the V-sign. Would actually love to do that one, even if we don't dream it."

Crowley often dreams about being an angel, which is sometimes disconcerting. He dreams about the life before, of being a questioner, of being one who sort of vaguely sauntered into his life as a demon. He's never been bad enough to be evil, but Aziraphale has always been too good to be an angel. What a strange pair they must seem to be to the ones chasing them.

The angel listens curiously as he lists his dreams, and the last one makes him tut, but not without a barely contained amused smile.

"That would be a bit much, I think." No, it wouldn't. But he has an image to maintain.

He takes a nice deep breath through his noise, ending in a calm sigh, and rests his head back on the bed. Not sleeping, not yet, just thoughtful.

" I do wonder", he starts vaguely. "What it will take for them to finally leave us be."

"The only reason it worked the first time is because they were afraid of us," Crowley says, tucking himself up against Aziraphale's side and wrapping a leg around him. "And even then it didn't work for all that long."

He looks at Aziraphale. All white curls and blue eyes and softness. Hard for him to think of the angel as someone anyone could be afraid of. Crowley has always thought of Aziraphale as someone he associates with comfort and...well...home, really. Being safe. Crowley's made lots of people afraid in his time. None of his superiors, mind, but that's because he doesn't really go in for the scary parts of being a demon.

"Be nice if we had something to hold over them, something that would put us at an advantage."

Well, to be fair, Aziraphale doesn't think of himself as someone anyone could be afraid of, either, which does leave them at the same level.

He always assumed Crowley was better at that sort of thing. Not that he thinks Crowley himself is that intimidating, but it has more to do with the airs one can keep. His whole dark and mysterious image could probably be used to that nature, Aziraphale thinks. Sometimes he wishes he could do something like that.

(He did have some fun with it during the trial, however.)

He glances, and moves to comfortably wrap an arm around Crowley's slender figure.

"It would." Said just as vaguely, as he tries to think of something that could be used that way. "Though I'd have to admit that I did believe that would have been it."

"I thought it would have bought us a little more time. A century, at the very least," Crowley says, letting out a sigh.

They didn't have anything. No weapons, no abilities that their enemies didn't have or have better than them, and they were basically surrounded on all ends. All they had was their knowledge of Earth, which their superiors didn't have. And oh, but they did know Earth very well. Crowley loved Earth and everything about it. Their superiors still hand-write notes to each other while Crowley was hacking into emails and inventing the selfie.

"Still, they'll be talking downstairs about how you discorporated a Duke of Hell," he adds. "Not a small feat, angel."

While his eyes are kept to the ceiling, there's an unmistakable smile that he tries to mute, just a little. He did do that, didn't he?

"Oh, well." That had been a terrible moment, but he's so very glad it worked. "It was more of an-- well, an accident, really."

It is true that they don't have much. They had hid before, but, now, they're targets. But they have their millennia of experience on the planet, they know they way around it. And, more importantly, they have each other, and they will always have each other's back.

"Oh, yes," Crowley agrees, giving a little nod. "Even more of a feat then. Discorporating a Duke of Hell by accident. Not sure I could've done it on purpose."

He can't help his smile. Aziraphale saved himself in that moment, and saved Crowley. If he weren't already madly enamoured by the stupid angel before, his bravery certainly turned up the enamoured-ness a few notches.

He thinks for a moment about where they are, and what they know. They're experts on Earth, at least as far as the other angels and demons are, and their fighting ground is here, on Earth.

"Do you think we could get the humans to help?" he asks. "Turn the tides a bit in our favor? Send a few hashtags against them to keep them out of our way?"

The angel turns his head to look at him, as the comment about hashtags soars right over his head.

"I'm not quite sure what they could do if we did." Which isn't a comment on the strength or kindness of mankind, but in worry of what might happen to them if Heaven and Hell did come down and declared war against, well, everything and everyone.

The thought begins to make itself comfortable, right next to the one about their own chances. He looks lost in thought again.

"If Heaven and Hell did did somehow stand together against all of us, I..."

He trails off, unsure whether he really wants to finish that thought.

"Right now they're still working on their own sides," Crowley says. "Heaven following us, Hastur attacking us. They're not working together yet, and they might not. Even hating us as much as they do might be too much for them to stomach working together."

Then again, it might not. He remembers seeing the demon walk up with Hellfire for Aziraphale's execution. They seemed so pleased to be working together for that brief moment. He cant imagine what it was like in Hell with all that Holy Water. And they thought it was perfectly normal to behave that way.

"Humans are God's favorites, aren't they?" Crowley adds. "She made them. She wouldn't want them fought for something that isn't one of her Plans."

Aziraphale remembers Michael walking in with the holy water. The spectacle of it all, the trial, the Lords, the audience, Michael. If it hadn't been for the situation at hand, the casual manner in which all the exchanges happened would have you believe you were watching an tense exchange between-- well, colleagues. Which is a terrifying thought.

Nearing that edge and staring down that spiral he's called home soon after this all began, he looks at Crowley again and considers the slight change of subject.

And he looks at the ceiling again. There's a couple of more seconds of silence than necessary, as happens with most difficult subjects.

"I would believe so." They were Her creation. Most things were Her creation, but they had been different. They were special. And she didn't take kindly when that first was put into into question by those who were to become the first Fallen. "She certainly had dedicated a lot of Her attention on them."

But, Plans? Oh, Aziraphale has learned the hard way, the hardest way, to finally accept that none of them know Her plans.

for salutosinedelectat

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just casually cuddling and discussing methods of survival

add in avocado toast and they're basically millenials

ugly cackle