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]

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.

[sauntered_downward]

"There's a fox sanctuary not far from here," Crowley says, looking at the mobile and then over at Aziraphale. "Apparently you can pet the foxes in the sanctuary."

He turns the mobile to show Aziraphale, where a small, bright red fox looks cutely up at the photographer.

[salutosinedelectat]

Aziraphale blinks at the screen. "Oh. How endearing." He says, vaguely sounding like that suggestion was unexpected, but not at all displeased.

"Is that something you would like to do?"

[sauntered_downward]

"Oh, I don't know," Crowley says. "Thought you might like it. All the creatures great and small and all that. Besides, I don't think they'd pick a fight in a place with that many innocent creatures in it."

He scrolls a bit further down and turns the screen to the angel again.

"Open air hot spring," he offers. "Very relaxing, that."

[salutosinedelectat]

Aziraphale makes a bit of a face, not so sure about that statement on the morality of their pursuers. “Surely, but it didn’t seem to stop them on the plane...” Or the bar. Oh, he hopes no one was too gravely upset. Or hurt.

The hot spring idea seems to definitely catch his attention. “Oh, that sounds delightful.” And indeed relaxing, which they certainly could do with. It’s very difficult not to be concerned about stopping anywhere for too long, but hopefully this little escapade should be fine. “Perhaps we should give it a try.”

[sauntered_downward]

Crowley thinks about all of the angels, and how he imagines they might avoid hurting little animals before they actually hurt people. Then again, he has no idea anything about angels anymore. He knows Hell doesn't care. They just want to catch them, to kill them. One day, they'll do all the thing on the list he's found, he thinks. All the little pop-up-shops and museums. One day.

"Hot spring it is, angel," he says. "I imagine it will be miraculously void of tourists when we come to visit." He'll wait to spring that miracle on the place until they get there. Something tiny, nothing he imagines their pursuers will even notice. He hopes.

"Preference for breakfast? You can look on my phone, see what's available?"

[salutosinedelectat]

Angels...well, angels might try not to harm humans. But that does not necessarily mean not making a scene. There are ways to get rid of humans that doesn’t necessarily physically harm them, but that may hardly be an issue for them. But he rather not think too deeply about that, at least not just then. The spiral of what ifs is just too overwhelming to continuously look into.

Regardless, here’s Crowley, once again just trying to make the best of it for the both of them. Where they are, the situation they’re in, for all the things that happened in such a short amount of time, and even for how cynical he can be, he’s still trying. 

The angel observes him and smiles, fondly, head still on Crowley’s shoulder, hand still on his chest, the demon’s arm comfortably around him, and the angel feels his chest swell with the unmistakable feeling of love.

“I’m sure we’ll find something.” He answers after a moment, thumb brushing over Crowley’s chest. “Wherever looks best.”

[sauntered_downward]

And they'll eat and they'll wander and they'll probably run. But they'll be together. Maybe eventually Crowley will think he needs to run off to save Aziraphale again, but right now he can't imagine being anywhere but at the angel's side.

"I'll let you pick," he says. "You know food better than I do."

And Aziraphale has always enjoyed showing off food to Crowley, which he's more than happy to oblige as well. He would do anything for Aziraphale, he knows this deep in the core of his being.

"I love you," he says again. He's said it, now. Now he feels like he could go on saying it forever.

[salutosinedelectat]

The angel glances up at him again, considering him for a second, smile gaining yet another layer of fondness. He's never heard words that rang so true in such a verifiable way that only he can know, and he can only hope Crowley feels the same about his.

He leans up and presses his lips on Crowley's, as softly as that moment in the bar, as gentle as when they said it a second time. "I love you, too." 

Crowley could say it forever, and the angel, finally, knows he will always say it back. 

[sauntered_downward]

Crowley does dream when he sleeps well. Long sleeps, fitful sleeps, they don't produce dreams. But tonight, when his eyes finally slip shut as he's looking at the angel in his arms, he dreams.

He dreams of the stars. Of growing stars from his hands, of stretching them out, pulling them up from the ground and putting them into place. He dreams of building a universe. He dreams of creating stars in the shape of a very particular cherubic face, and blue stars the same shade as an angel's eyes. It's been a long time since he's dreamed of what his life as an angel was like----he can easily chalk that up to being close to Aziraphale, being in his arms.

He blinks his eyes open as sunlight streams into the bedroom.

"Angel?"

[salutosinedelectat]

Aziraphale doesn’t dream, not then. He doesn’t remember the last time he did, a longer time ago than the last time he’s actually slept (as opposed to being knocked unconscious by brute force or supernatural strain), and it feels like a particularly long blink.

When he wakes, in the demon’s arms, it all feels like a strange and complex dream, and he lingers there for a while. In the silence, in the dimness being slowly overtaken by the sunlight that’s gently pushing through the curtains and into the room. He listens to Crowley breathing, and he thinks.

Eventually, he can’t tell how long after, he gets up carefully and gingerly, taking a moment to look down at the demon and reaching over to gently brush his hair back. He climbs off the bed, finds some of his clothes, and starts getting dressed, calm and meticulous and nowhere in a rush. But he stops soon after he starts, looking at himself in the mirror and at that mark concentrated on the center of his chest.

That’s when he hears Crowley’s voice, softly breaking through his train of thought, and he turns to look over at him. “Oh, good morning.”

[sauntered_downward]

Crowley leans back, sleepily watching Aziraphale. How he's imagined a moment like this, something where they're just together, undressed or domestically in each other's presence. No fear of this side or that side finding them. Where he can admire Aziraphale as he dresses.

Of course, the mark on his chest is a stark reminder that the lack of fear is only temporary. The moment they step out of this place, they could be a target again. This holiday is also an escape plan.

It won't be like this forever, he tells himself. They'll have days where he can watch Aziraphale dress and there won't be any fear. Not now, not ever. He'll figure out a way. That's what Crowley does, he solves problems. He can solve this one. He'll do it for Aziraphale, for them.

He stretches. "Sleep well?" he asks.

[salutosinedelectat]

Aziraphale's gaze over the demon lingers for a few moments, as a fond smile easily takes over his expression. Grim reminders of their current situation are all around them, if they look, but so are those that point out the more positive aspects, the better recent events, the intimate developments between two people, two creatures who have circled each other for millennia, until finally meeting in the middle.

For once, Aziraphale feels more than a mere observer of the Love he feels.

"Quite well." He adjusts the shirt he's wearing laying open, starting to button it up, and covering up marks he rather not think about for a while. "You?" 

please forgive my long delay I love this PSL I have just had one heck of a month

[sauntered_downward]

"Dreamed sweet dreams," Crowley says, which isn't entirely true, but that's all right. Who needs sweet dreams when reality is full of all the things he's dreamed of? Aziraphale loves him. He can openly love Aziraphale. Sure, Heaven and Hell want them dead, but that's something they'll deal with later.

"I suppose we'll need to find somewhere for breakfast then?" he says, not even attempting to move from his spot on the bed. "What are you thinking to start out with? I know they do a sort of weird, fluffy pancake that's all puffed up in Japan, I saw it on the internet once."

Back when Crowley invented those little time-lapse food videos for all the ad revenue they generated (and the low-level evil they generated when they were cut in half with an ad in the middle), he watched a lot of odd recipe videos.

lmfao the videos bit

[salutosinedelectat]

"Ah, hotto keki....hotcakes." Said in somewhat dreamy tone, not just for the nature of what they're talking about, but for the whole idea of sitting down to enjoy a nice, lovely breakfast together in peace. At least, he hopes that's possible.

"That would be lovely." He focuses back on the mirror, finishing buttoning up his shirt and fixing his sleeves. "We should definitely get at least a bit acquainted with what's in the area." For however long they get to stay, of course.

[sauntered_downward]

"Could do," Crowley agrees. If they could, they would just go for a walk. See what's around, enjoy taking their time to choose---or, well, letting Aziraphale choose. Crowley couldn't possibly care, as long as Aziraphale got to eat somewhere and enjoy himself. But now, that sort of a leisurely walk would be more than a luxury. It might not even be possible.

He stretches and stands, then gives a wave, dressing himself instantly. He looks over at Aziraphale. He wants to pretend everything is normal, everything is all right, but once they step outside, they're in danger and they both know it.

"We'll need to work out a way to get back here quickly if we need to," he says.

[salutosinedelectat]

He would like to pretend, too. He would like to have time to delve not just in their impromptu holiday as something to be enjoyed rather than simply an escape rote, but also on the recent...developments between them.

Some time to think, is all. Some time to explore it, to question and to find answers, together. But there’s always going to be something hanging over them, and they’re always going to be on their toes. He tries not to show it too much when he smiles far too faintly when he glances over at Crowley, picking up his waistcoat to put it on.

“What do you suggest?”