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.

Comments

[sauntered_downward]

Aziraphale leans in, and Crowley's heart skips a few beats it doesn't really need to take. After all, he's usually the one to make the first move in these situations. To test the waters and see if it's what Aziraphale wants. To tempt him into admitting feeling or wants or desires. Aziraphale moving first means this is what he wants.

The angel hesitates, and a tiny noise comes involuntarily out of Crowley's throat. Because of course he wants to kiss Aziraphale, of course he wants this. Any moment, any time, for forever, and the angel must know that, right? But then again, this is so new to them, this showing of feeling. This intimacy. It was always beyond their reach before. He feels Aziraphale's thumb stroke his cheek so gently, so lovingly.

He leans in the rest of the way, closing the distance between their mouths.

[salutosinedelectat]

And it's Aziraphale's heart's turn to skip, as he closes his eyes, as he forgets everything that's out there, bring existance down to this single room, this moment, the two of them.

It might not be the first kiss. It will certainly not be the last, if he has anything to say about it. But something about it feels truly special. Truly definitive. The words in it, them sitting down, the angel's metaphorical foot forward. The recognition and the promise with it.

He doesn't count the time. He refuses to. He just wants to stay - in the right here, in the right now. In the making up for all that dreadful business. The last few hours. The last few months. The centuries of admiration. The not going fast enough.

He welcomes the demon back into the love in his heart, in his soul. It's there for him, if he wants it. Love, and gratitude, and admiration. Promises. It's all there.

[sauntered_downward]

Crowley is a lot of things as a person. One of those things is definitely greedy. He took every second with Aziraphale he could during their time together before the Apocalypse. Long lunches, extended evenings in the bookshop. Every second he could, he stepped into it, filling up Aziraphale's free time. All because he couldn't just tell the angel he wanted to be with him. All because he didn't know how to say that he loved him.

Now, Aziraphale offers him back into the love in his heart and Crowley all but free dives back to him, wanting to swim around in the love he feels from the angel, wanting to give it back to him completely. Yeah, Crowley's a bit greedy, but he can't help it. Nature of the beast and all that. Aziraphale must have known that going in, loving a corrupt demon like him.

His hand around Aziraphale's waist pulls him just a little closer as he deepens the kiss.

[salutosinedelectat]

Well, nature of the beast indeed. A kind beast. A good one. The best of them all, and Aziraphale learned that a long time ago, against all odds. Against all warnings. And, for all his flaws and missteps, he's still so glad he at least saw that. He wouldn't have survived otherwise.

There's a quiet faint sound in the kiss, but not a protest. He doesn't object to being pulled in, it is just, as stated, new. A little bit overwhelming. He brings a hand up to Crowley's arm, then up to his shoulder, while the other stays on his cheek. Soft, gentle hands, polite, but not hesitant.

All of existance is so vast. A concept not meant to be grasped, but a concept he's familiar with all the same. But, right now, it seems laser focused on this moment, and he's never felt so safe.

[sauntered_downward]

Kind and good. Kind and good are four-letter words for a demon. Crowley would do better to snap at the angel, to tell him something like Oh, tell the whole world, why don't you? and brush them off. But he is better than he has been, and that's because of his friendship with Aziraphale. He's wanted to be good because of him. He's wanted to do the right thing to do it for the angel.

Loving anything is supposed to be out of his grasp. But he feels it so completely. He feels it even when Aziraphale isn't in his arms, even when he isn't kissing the angel with everything that he has in him. He feels it when he's just looking at him. He feels it when he's teasing him, or Aziraphale is blustering and acting self-righteous and a little bit holier-than-thou. Aziraphale is what he wants, and he gives that sensation, that desire to the angel.

He wants Aziraphale to be safe. He tries to think of the things that make him feel safe, the things that make him feel good. Aziraphale's bookshop makes him feel safe. Evenings with the angel make him feel secure. The angels' hands on his face, on his shoulder, they are like anchors, holding him in place. Chaos and trouble are the things that usually make Crowley feel like he's done the right thing----a good bit of mischief done right, watching people with their shoes untied trip or two people who absolutely shouldn't be together falling madly into each other's arms. Oh, that isn't safe at all, but it's enjoyable, and it's something he imagines the angel doesn't feel----so he shares that feeling of a job-well-done to him, gives him a little of the enjoyment of sin.

[salutosinedelectat]

It makes laugh. Not physically, mind you, but in some part of him. Maybe it's the moment, tainting all of his thoughts with comfort, with joy, with love and affection and all the feelings that make him feel energize, make him feel right. But it may also be the harmlessness in most of Crowley's sins. The lack of maliciousness. Oh, it makes the angel feel so silly for all the times he was ready to accuse Crowley of some or the biggest crimes by humanity, or even others. The angel is not a fan of discord, no, and he would very much rather everyone be happy, and comfortable, and safe, free from harm, but it's not their frustration or annoyance or embarrassment that bring him joy.

It's Crowley. It's who he is. For all his contradictions and for all his lack of malicious intent. For all his smartness and his cunning. For all his kindness and devotion. For his company. For all the lunches and all the late night drinking.

The angel leans forward slightly, reaches his arms up to wrap them around his neck and hold them there. An awkward angle, an indiscretion, but just this once, it should be fine.

[sauntered_downward]

Crowley isn't a harmful demon. Never has been. Always loved the little things he could do. Oh, he could steal all the wine bottle openers on the Titanic, but he'd never want to be the one to set the iceberg on it. He would tie all the generals' shoelaces together, but he'd never whisper in their ear the horrible things they could do in order to gain power.

Maybe that just made him bad at his job.

Maybe he preferred it that way.

Aziraphale's arms are around him, and Crowley pulls him just a little closer. Possibly the worst sin he ever committed was causing an angel to fall in love with him. Oh, but if that ever did get out, he'd have probably be showered with all of the commendations. It doesn't feel sinful, right now. Not even a little bit. It just feels right.

[salutosinedelectat]

And the greatest miracle Aziraphale could have ever done was made a demon love.

But he hadn't. It was never his doing. No- the demon carried the capability of love with him. He carried with him a questioning, restless mind, and he asked questions, and he did all the things angels and demons said he shouldn't even be able to do.

And he cared. And he loved. And he understood the angel, even when the angel couldn't understand himself.

And he accepted him for how he is, when no one else, not even the angel, did.

He's so close. Too close? But they'd danced. They'd kissed. It's hard not to question thing, the wrong questions haven't suddenly vanished from his mind. But they sound a lot quieter. For that, he's thankful.

[sauntered_downward]

They could be closer. He thinks about the way it feels when they share their love, that feeling of being completely connected to someone, and he wants that. He wants to be completely connected to Aziraphale, to feel him inside and out. To be surrounded by him utterly. Aziraphale who will always be the better part of the two of them.

He traces the angel's lower lip with his tongue as they kiss, tasting him, asking for more. There is always the notion of 'too fast', and Crowley will never go faster than the angel would want---but he does want to kiss Aziraphale more. He wants to know him better.

He wants the chaos they live in to dissolve into the love they feel for each other.

That last line 👌👌👌👌👌👌👌

[salutosinedelectat]

The angel makes a quiet sound into the kiss again. His steps towards this maybe be gradual and slow, and he hopes he can still count on that patience as he goes through them. Although just that question, that wondering, is entirely unnecessary, because he trusts the demon entirely.

He brings a hand back to the back of Crowley's neck, a gentle touch, holding. He can feel his heart - or whatever it is - racing in his chest. He parts his lips slightly, something a bit too fast, but he'll say something if he feels the need to stop or slow down.

It's very difficult to not fall into it. The more the world seems to spin around them and try to toss them off, the stronger they hold onto it and each other. It's a simple enough exchange, and this is a culmination of too much, for too long.

[sauntered_downward]

He isn't certain what the small sound from Aziraphale is, but Crowley instantly loves it and promises himself he's somehow going to make the angel replicate it.

Crowley feels that trust from Aziraphale, and it tempers his other desires----none of them as pure and wholesome as the lovely kiss they are sharing at the moment and he's trying very hard not to think about them lest he accidentally share them with Aziraphale. He slips his tongue between Aziraphale's lips delicately, giving him the option to back out of this new development the moment he wants to.

How long has he wanted to kiss the angel like this? So very long, now. Everything that fell apart in their world shattered those lines that were stopping them before, that were keeping them from kissing like this, from holding each other like the world outside doesn't exist.

/church icon

[salutosinedelectat]

And he does love the world, you know. He loves existance, he loves the world in all its complicated details, in its contained chaos. Of course, he doesn't love their current situation, with all the running away and nearly being destroyed and getting hunted again and again and again, but... Right now, right this minute? That's rather pleasant. Good, even.

Whatever sound he made before, he makes a similar, quiet one now, all the more embarassed by it. It's unbecoming, he feels, unable to quite tell what part of that thought is him and which part is all the constructed conventions of how he should behave, what he should or shouldn't do.

He's not exactly craving for anything more. The closeness, the intimacy, the love is all he wants. The freedom to make a choice, and the chance to delve on these feelings, unafraid, and not alone. To not fear that that's what's going to end them both.

And it won't. Other things definitely might. A lot of things, actually, that aren't as far away as he'd hoped, probably. But it certainly won't be the fact that they're finally talking-- well, not talking, but beginning to face this.

Shouldn't have waited. Shouldn't have walked away. Should have been braver, clearer, oh, I do love you so.

[sauntered_downward]

I love you, he thinks in response. It's always been you.

From the moment Aziraphale told him he'd given away his stupid sword, it's always been the angel. Crowley has never loved, Crowley has never desired and coveted and wanted and all of his other horrible sins like he has wanted to be with the angel. And now, in this exact moment, they are together.

The whole universe doesn't matter at all. They have each other.

He takes half a step towards the bedroom, gently pulling Aziraphale with him while they embrace. Let's rest, he thinks. You need to rest.

[salutosinedelectat]

The angel moves along with the step, another quiet, muffled sound - but an interruption this time, soft and polite, as he pulls his arms back and his hands onto Crowley's shoulders, and pulls back away from the kiss. Absolutely in no rush, however.

He looks up at the demon, finding himself slightly short of breath, somehow, lingering in his gaze. Thoughtful, distracted, facing himself and these feelings between them more and more.

He brings a hand over his own mouth, not in regret but in some level of...coyness? Thought again. Idly brushing his fingers over his lips while his eyes lowered more toward Crowley's colar.

Ah, this is a lot. This is sudden-- although not really.

But, rest, yes. They should do that. I need to check what's wrong with his physical vessel. And they could use the quiet. For as much as their physical bodies don't really tire, their minds could use the breather.

[sauntered_downward]

Crowley considers Aziraphale, considers the coyness in his gesture, considers how connected they are in the moment. He considers all of this, and considers how once Aziraphale had told him he moved too fast. Aziraphale would tell him again if he did, he supposes, and he decides fuck it for the second time that evening.

He leans forward, and presses his lips carefully to Aziraphale's jawline, near his ear. Just once, just to see what the angel's reaction would be to the sudden, intimate gesture. He lingers, slowly pulling back to gauge his reaction.

[salutosinedelectat]

It catches him by surprise, certaintly. The lean, the kiss. His hand goes back onto Crowley's shoulder, but he doesn't push him away, simply seems to stop breathing in those seconds.

He doesn't know what he wants, or what to expect. But he appreciates the fact that Crowley's plan to hide in here seems to have worked. He can't begin to imagine how terrible it would be if they were interrupted.

[sauntered_downward]

"Is this...?" His voice seems suddenly very loud in the room even at a whisper, especially considering they were only talking with their minds seconds earlier.

He leans back in and presses another kiss, this one a little lower, to Aziraphale's neck, above where the black tendrils come up above his collar. Rest, his mind reminds him. He's supposed to be insisting that Aziraphale rest, tuck him right into bed and watch over him through the night. That's exactly what he's supposed to be doing right now. Most definitely.

Or, then again, he could be tasting the skin of the angel's neck. Just the once, just to see, you know, what it tastes like. If Crowley is going to ride tonight on fantasies fulfilled including dancing with Aziraphale, kissing Aziraphale, and knowing in his heart that Aziraphale loves him, he's definitely going to push the barrier just a little bit further.

[salutosinedelectat]

As sudden as Crowley's voice is in the factual silence that has been surrounding them for this while, Aziraphale welcomes it, a little bit grounding, enough to keep him there, to focus somewhat. Which is an entirely difficult maneuver.

"Yes..." a whisper, a mutter under his breath as Crowley leans again. The angel shudders faintly, closing his eyes again, gently gripping his shoulders just a little bit tighter.

Aziraphale moves too slow. The world goes by too fast. Which should be nothing to someone immortal. But it's not time, it's not the minutes ticking away, it's the connections one makes. One day you can find yourself still in place as someone else you love moves right on along and you can't keep up. Tonight is a good example of this; so much has happened. A blink of an eye and they're miles away from where they were. They've taken a leap, but together, this time, and he wants to see where they land.

A hand slides over to the back of Crowley's neck again, soft fingers caressing the skin. Resting is still in the plan, but he's fine exploring other suggestions at this moment.

[sauntered_downward]

He feels Aziraphale shudder against him and that bolsters his confidence that much more. He kisses again, this time letting his tongue trace just a little of the angel's skin beneath him as his hands stay wrapped around his waist. He should want this to be chaste, he thinks to himself. He should want this to be only about the love that he feels for Aziraphale, only about the connection he feels towards him, and just being with him.

But then again, he is a demon. Desire is not an insignificant part of what he does. Tempting Aziraphale into lunch or long nights with wine has always been his favorite thing. And now, holding him close and tasting his skin, he thinks about a whole other temptation all together, and he can't help but want to take that step forward.

If Hell could see him now, tempting an angel, they'd probably think he was some sort of a hero. It doesn't feel in the slightest bit sinful, though----okay, okay, just a little bit sinful, he thinks, pressing yet another kiss, this one a little closer to Aziraphale's ear.

[salutosinedelectat]

The angel strongly dislikes - maybe even hates - the fact that the nagging voice at the back of his head telling him what he should or shouldn't do is still there. It's not that he has to follow it every time - he's been quite good at ignoring it over the centuries, the millennia, on most smaller things. Less so on the bigger ones. And it would have been naive to think it would have gone away completely after that day, but part of him wanted to believe it would.

But he's almost angry at it, this time. At the nervousness he feels. A different kind of nervousness than the one he's felt most of the evening, showing up entirely too late and definitely uninvited. It's quiet and surreptitious, but even know it's telling him this might be too fast.

He's starting to hate that word, too. It's practically haunted his mind when he said it, back then.

His eyes are closed and he's still holding onto the demon's shoulders, somewhere between tense and letting that go. A pulled in breath over the feeling on his neck. Another kiss and he bites his lip when he can't be seen.

[sauntered_downward]

Crowley has always gone too fast. Wanted drinks with Aziraphale when they were still basically enemies, wanted to sort out an arrangement with Aziraphale when he thought they were doing the right things in their respective posts, considered him his best friend when Aziraphale still had the lines drawn firmly in the sand between them. And now? What about now?

Now, he can feel Aziraphale's hands on his shoulders, feel him take in a breath at the feeling of his tongue against his neck. Crowley presses another kiss to his jaw, and slides his hands up Aziraphale's back, under his jacket. The bed is one room away, the wall is right there, there's a couch and they could----they could----

He pulls back, enough to look down at the angel, to fully look at his face, to see what his reactions are. As if to say Is this what you want?

[salutosinedelectat]

The angel looks up at him in almost a daze, somehow aware that Crowley isn't vocally asking, but getting the message all the same. And, for a moment, his reaction doesn't have much to it. Frozen in thought again, feeling too much again, and he doesn't know where to start.

But Crowleys arms are around him, and they're pressed together so close. They've been through so much, and their surprising freedom was taken away by forces outside of them again. It is unfair, and they deserve to be free.

He can't help but to glance at Crowleys lips for a moment, close as they are, and thinking about what they've already shared. About the closeness and intimacy. About all of this, how they got here.

So his answer comes after a moment of silence, until a snap decision, - impulses, his crowning achievements, or extremely the opposite - leads him into kissing the demon again, perhaps with a touch more fervor, gripping the fabric over his shoulders.

Forget that voice. Forget whatever is out there. Forget it all except this.

[sauntered_downward]

There is a brief second in the silence in which Crowley thinks he's misjudged. He's gone too fast, he's overstepped a barrier. And there's nothing that Crowley wouldn't do for Aziraphale, including wait, and wait forever if that's what the angel wants. But then, Aziraphale is kissing him again.

Crowley lets out a desperate noise at the feeling of Aziraphale's mouth against his, at the fervor behind his kiss. He thinks of all of the centuries of longing, of all of the words unsaid and how much he has wanted to kiss Aziraphale like this, to touch him like this and now he has permission and it's almost overwhelming.

He considers the bedroom----over in that direction---and the couch---over in that direction---and they all just seem too far away. All he wants is to be close to Aziraphale right now and with that thought in mind he moves carefully forward, maneuvering them until Aziraphale's back is against the nearby wall, and Crowley is pressed up against him.

[salutosinedelectat]

Aziraphale feels his back press against the wall, Crowley press up against him, and finding himself delightfully trapped between both almost causes him to falter. He's threading that line of almost too much, taking blind steps into something he always thought was never there, and it's terrifying, it's exciting, it's *exhilarating*, and he doesn't know what to do with himself.

But he knows well enough to slide his hands down to the lapels on Crowley's jacket and pull, then to slide a hand to Crowley's back, grip the back of his jacket, while the other finds itself at the back of his head again. Kiss never broken and unsteadiness slowly fading - the wall helps.

[sauntered_downward]

Aziraphale pulls him closer, and Crowley obliges, kissing him deeper, leaning a little more into the angel as he holds him up against the wall. Oh, there have been many things that Crowley has wanted, many things he has coveted and desired in his very long life, but he can put all of them at a distant second to the desire he feels for the angel right now.

I love you. It's always been you. I love you. His mind is a mantra, repeating how he feels for the angel in a desperate, quiet hum in the background as he kisses him.

He moves his hands from Aziraphale's back to his front, to the lapels of his jacket, to move the jacket over his shoulders, try to slide it down. A bit of a fumble, as Aziraphale's hands are on his neck, at his back, everywhere but just easily accessible to move the jacket downwards. And that feels perfect, because if this was just simple, it wouldn't be them at all, would it?