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

just casually cuddling and discussing methods of survival

[salutosinedelectat]

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.

add in avocado toast and they're basically millenials

[sauntered_downward]

"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."

ugly cackle

[salutosinedelectat]

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.

[sauntered_downward]

"If they start killing humans with abandon, start to wage war against them," Crowley suggests. "Then they'd be going against something She's put so much effort into. Couldn't possibly be what they'd want. No matter what side----even downstairs they don't want to pick a fight with Her directly."

It wouldn't even be that hard, Crowley thinks. A few choice photographs of Hastur sent out with a hashtag like #pantygrabber or something obnoxious like that and he wouldn't be able to skulk anywhere without being harassed. He'd be a laughingstock downstairs too, which is always a plus in Crowley's mind.

"It's our biggest advantage. We know humans and they don't."

[salutosinedelectat]

The hand resting against his chest is subtly fidgety, certainly the more he thinks about it all.

"You do have a point." A beat. "But we all know that interpretations of Her Plan may...vary." Not an easy thing to say out loud, still.

"The moment the Great Plan was adverted, the systems that were in place ever since this all began suddenly became dust in the wind." He remembers the moment he finally had to face the Plan, and he remembers it clearly. Metatron looking down at him with indifference. And he had six thousand years to know the Earth and it's inhabitants - even he can't imagine what those that didn't have the exposure he did felt the moment everything was pulled out from under them.

Which, you know, doesn't really make up for the fact that they're trying to murder them. Again. Repeatedly. It just makes things more complicated.

"Who knows what they may come up with next."

For as much as he appreciates not being tethered to Heaven as he once was, he can't afford himself the blind certainty he had then, the certainty that everything was right and everything would be okay. And he's trying very hard not to focus on that void.

[sauntered_downward]

"Whatever they come up with, I won't let them hurt you," Crowley says, tightening his arm around Aziraphale. "Not now, not ever."

He almost lost Aziraphale tonight, and that thought hasn't left him. Aziraphale saved them both because Crowley couldn't move fast enough, but that won't happen again. He will be smarter, next time. Faster. He'll use everything he has to keep the angel safe. He thinks about the skills he has, the things he can do and there has to be something to keep them alive.

"We're unique, you and I," he says. "They won't know what to expect from us, and we have to keep that to our advantage."

Crowley can do things that demons can't. He can love. He can heal. He can make humans bond and move together. He can do it again.

[salutosinedelectat]

Aziraphale turns his head to face him again. Crowley, always, always, as he has been this whole time, puts an emphasis on protecting the angel. Aziraphale does, of course, appreciate it - it makes his chest flutter, it makes his heart soar, it makes him feel loved and cared for in ways he’s never felt before now. But it also terrifies him. It scares him to think the demon might put himself in danger to save him. He’s said and implied as much, all the way back in that motel room, to earlier in the evening - is it still evening? He can’t tell what time it is -, and, as hypocritical of him as it might be, the angel can’t stand the idea that he may ever get hurt, or worse, for him.

Crowley says something else, about their uniqueness and advantages, but the angel keeps on thinking, keeps on looking at him, eventually reaching his free hand to touch the side of Crowley’s face.

Crowley. The demon. Hereditary enemy turned friend, best friend. Companion. Turned...so much more.

[sauntered_downward]

Crowley shifts himself and leans forward, pressing his mouth to the angel's.

He would do anything for Aziraphale and he knows it. There's no fear there, not really. He'd fight for him, he'd die for him, and he'd do it all with a saunter to his hips and a smirk on his lips because Aziraphale deserved to have someone who would. He's been a mess of emotions for Aziraphale for centuries---longer even---and he's not even remotely sorry for it.

They'll get out of this somehow. He'll work out a plan, he always does. They'll figure this out together.

Heaven and Hell come and go from his life. Aziraphale is his one constant. He's not giving him up.

[salutosinedelectat]

Constants. They are each others constant. And while it's been incredibly obvious for a very long time, there was also a very long time where Aziraphale didn't face what that really meant for them. He almost threw it all away because he didn't know where he stood. But he does now, even if he's still learning to consolidate being who he is, with what he is, where he is. But he's always been a little different from his kin, always bent the rules a little, so it's not like the difference is as extreme as it could be. And Crowley, Crowley's always been there with him, specially when he was not himself, not yet.

A gentle, lingering kiss. He pulls back after a few seconds, keeping his hand on the side of Crowley's face, looking into his eyes. Not searching, no, he knows what's in there, he's seen into his soul now. But he still looks, and he hopes his own sincerity rings clear.

"We will make it." In this moment, he can believe it. He can begin to believe that, if Crowley helps him.

[sauntered_downward]

"Of course we will, angel," Crowley agrees. They can't have come this far, experienced this much, to suddenly lose, could they? Of course not. They've done too much. They've felt too much.

Crowley isn't one to pray, not when he's certain his words are falling on deaf ears, but he would, for Aziraphale. For what they've found together. He'd pray that they could make it out of this. That some sort of a solution, an escape would present itself to them. It would have to, wouldn't it? She couldn't just leave them, not if the demon actually prayed.

Maybe he will, when Aziraphale is sleeping. Maybe he'll properly prostrate himself in front of the Almighty for Aziraphale's sake. That would be a laugh, wouldn't it? One of the Fallen, begging for some sort of guidance for the sake of love?

[salutosinedelectat]

If he knew, Aziraphale would probably have trouble encouraging him to do so. They haven't talked about it, but he's come to terms over the Almighty perhaps being a bit too distant nowadays - even to angels. Even to those who believe they're doing Her will. But there's barely a chance he'd ever see Crowley like that.

He smiles faintly, softly, when Crowley reassures him. That's all he needs for now, all he needs to hear to keep it together for a little while longer. He's happy with what they've found; unearthed, really, to use a more accurate term, as it's been there for quite some time.

He brushes his thumb over Crowley's cheek and lingers, before letting go and shifting until he's on his side, resting an arm over his middle.

[sauntered_downward]

Crowley relaxes back, turning his head so he can still watch the angel. How long has he longed for this kind of touch, this kind of closeness? How long has he thought they'd never be able to reach over the walls they put up for each other? And now, well, now they have this and Crowley isn't about to let anyone take it away from him. He hasn't longed for or coveted anything the way he has wanted Aziraphale, and he'll be damned (again) if he gives him up.

He reaches out, touching Aziraphale's shoulder and stretching his fingers across the skin there.

"Might as well not even sleep," he says with a small, teasing smile. "I'll just dream about you."

[salutosinedelectat]

How long have they waited? Barely at all, in Aziraphale's case. Mostly because he never thought it possible, until very recently, if that. But life is full of surprises, it seems, no matter how long it's been.

He rests his head against Crowley's shoulder, feeling warm and Cody and close. Even for someone who dedicated to comfort, he's never even dreamed of this. He quite likes it.

He glances up with a smile. "I would think you have enough of me in your waking hours."

[sauntered_downward]

"You think I'd get tired of you?" he says, his smile lazy. "Not on your life."

No, Aziraphale is like a shot of espresso when Crowley is very tired. Or a beam of sunshine when he wanted somewhere to curl up and take a nap. He could never tire of him. Not now, not even 6000 years ago. He'll always bring something new and interesting to the table.

He wraps an arm around the angel, embracing him as he lays on his shoulder. Heaven doesn't have a damn thing on this, he thinks. Lying in a five-star AirBNB with his best friend---his companion---his lover----Aziraphale in his arms with one hell of a killer afterglow was all Crowley needed.

[salutosinedelectat]

Good for the both of them, it seems, as Aziraphale's mind seems to have finally taken a moment to rest, finding himself in the demon's embrace, sharing extended moments, emotions, each other and themselves, when everything seems to have finally quieted down after a brutally hellish night. And while he would have happily avoided all of the less-than-positive aspects of it, he would still do them all again if that would led him here once more.

He rests a soft hand on the demon's chest, falling into quiet thought after a fond and appreciative smile. Not quite attempting to sleep yet, though he might as well get to that soon if he's to do that at all, the angel thinks.

"What would you like to do, tomorrow?" Today, whatever day it is, whenever they wake up. The overly casual question comes idly, as he lets his mind wander about more pleasant concepts, such as sightseeing and restaurants.

[sauntered_downward]

He runs his hand through Aziraphale's hair, enjoying the intimacy. This closeness, this safety. Being in the arms of the man he loves.

"Anything you want, angel," he says. Not that they can, really. They have to be careful everywhere they go, and they'll have to eventually leave the country, flee for somewhere new. But Crowley will try. He'll do whatever he can to give Aziraphale the holiday he wants, to take him to the places he deserves.

After all, they're meant to be living, not just fleeing together. That will mean a few risks. That will be worth it. All of them will be worth it, he tells himself.

[salutosinedelectat]

They'll have to be careful, yes, something they're both painfully aware of, specially with how many close calls they've seen they can have in a row. Luck will run out eventually, he thinks, so they should lean even more on practical measures of survival.

But, much like Crowley in that night in the motel, over cheap wine turned palatable, he wants to pretend. Maybe he even wants to believe. Maybe all he wants is to be in this moment, in this feeling, with him.

"We could visit the city." He proposes. He considers temples, but he wonders if some may be a bit too unpleasant for the demon. " See the sights. Perhaps try a couple of restaurants."

[sauntered_downward]

"See those single-person hotel pods I set up last decade," he says. "I think they ended up taking off."

That had been just a thought passed on the internet, Crowley hadn't even gone to Japan for it. What if people lived in rooms the size of a bed? Somehow that became a thing and now people lived in little pods here. He went down to Hell to hear how wonderful it all was, and he had no idea they were actually doing it. It was a weird day.

"Clear up any tied-up traffic on the motorway just to infuriate Hell," he adds, pressing a kiss to Aziraphale's jaw. "Let them know we're still here but they can't find us."

Probably risky, playing like that. But it might be fun. Or at least fun to talk about.

[salutosinedelectat]

The angel smiles, half sweetly over the kiss, half amused over the suggestion. While he doesn't have any intention to tease any of their former offices after everything that's already happened...he'd have to admit that it's rather tempting.

"Perhaps we should avoid their attention for now." Accompanied by a faint tap on Crowley's chest. "I would prefer to have enough time to actually enjoy this little trip."

[sauntered_downward]

"I'll go anywhere you want," he says. "Just as long as it isn't one of those viral food places. I'm not waiting six hours in line for you to get two bites of an ice cream cone. I've seen them in Instagram, they look great but they're definitely not worth it."

But there's so much they could do here. Lots of great architecture, bars, restaurants, history. Crowley's not even completely invested in this country and even he has a list of things he wouldn't mind seeing.

Of course, all of that comes secondary to what the angel wants to see. Because the best part of everything is seeing Aziraphale excited, seeing him get what he wants. Crowley really, truly is a fool for him. Which should be more annoying than it is, but he's come to accept it.

[salutosinedelectat]

To say the angel is spoiled would be doing the fact a disservice. On that same note, saying that he's happy in this moment doesn't quite cut it either, as he finds himself in a situation with the demon -his demon? - that he was never completely sure he'd be able to get.

And on a day where everything almost ended for them entirely several times...

He takes a long, gentle breath through his nose and shifts, finally closing his eyes. "Alright. And perhaps we should skip the karaoke bars."

[sauntered_downward]

"Hey, I was having fun until we were so rudely interrupted," Crowley says. "Might've even convinced you to do a duet with me after we finished off a few of those drinks."

After all, there isn't a Queen song that Crowley doesn't know by heart.

And there was something positively magical about that place. Songs playing, dancing with Aziraphale, holding him in his arms, kissing him----it was something that could only have happened on Earth. No Heaven or Hell involved in making something that level of perfect.

[salutosinedelectat]

Aziraphale thinks about it too, the dim lighting, the drinks, holding hands over the table, somehow letting Crowley convince him to hit the dance floor...the kiss. Despite how that particular endeavor ended, it really hadn't been too bad during the first half.

"Oh?" Said with a smile to it. "Well, I suppose we may never know."

[sauntered_downward]

"Oh, it's a long life, angel. Won't be the last time I get you into a karaoke bar, I'm sure," he says. Even though this is literally the first time in 6000 years.

He waves a hand and his mobile phone appears in it, where he immediately punches a few buttons in and begins scrolling.

"Oh, no," he says, looking into it.

[salutosinedelectat]

The angel opens his eyes and squints slightly at the light of the screen.

"What are you up to?" He knows that tone. He knows that smile without even seeing it.