#thread; aziraphale&crowley 02

[ofginjxints]

closed starter for @ourcwnside a yearning starter

"But Crowley-" The angel scarpered beside the demon (he did always walk faster than him owing to the longer limbs on his corporation), trying to get a word in edgewise. "We can both talk to him, it doesn't have to just be yourself. He-he seems rather...well, I think it's best to have two of us there, don't you think?"

[bohemiandivinity]

@lessersinned​ |  For Aziraphale,  because we talked about it  &  now We Need It

❛ You know,  Crowley,  I’ve always said that deep down,  you really are quite a nice—– ❜

The demon LUNGED  without warning,  thin lips contorting  into a sneer,  fingers roughly DIGGING into the lapels of that creamy white  fabric before he nearly shoved  the angel into the opposing wall.  The sound of SCREECHING pierced the silence of the hallway as he moved,  the sound of Crowley’s shoes squeaking against hardwood floors.  Transitioning from using his UPPER BODY STRENGTH to move them both,  he pressed  the length of his body against Aziraphale’s,  to keep him PINNED there.

 ❝ Ssshut it !! ❞

He ground out  betwixt clenched teeth,  his S’s abruptly sounding just a little bit  like the HISS of a snake.

 ❝ I’m a DEMON,  I’m not nice,   I’m NEVER nice,  nice isss a FOUR LETTER WORD,  I will not  have—– ❞

Initially,  BLIND FURY had engulfed him almost entirely  &  he’d acted without giving it even a fleeting thought.  He’d taken the CREDIT for the things humans did,  as a demon,  because he couldn’t stomach some of the VILE things that occurred in Hell.  He couldn’t stomach  some of the awful things his ... his PEERS did,  what they thought about,  talked  about.  He hadn’t FALLEN because he was evil,  or because he’d WANTED to do bad things,  no  ... Crowley had only fallen because it was against his very instinct  to obey blindly,  without question.  He’d fallen for being charmed,  albeit BRIEFLY,  by the light bringer,  Samael,  who would later be known as LUCIFER.  How could they fault  him for that ?

Crowley was not  the Demon they believed he was,  nor the demon they WANTED him to be  &  he wished  he could just let the end of the world come as planned,  but .... but he COULDN’T.  He couldn’t  because no matter who won the war,  he would be either miserable or perhaps DEAD.  Certainly in Hell,  there would be good music,  alcohol  ... but he wouldn’t have his Bentley,  he wouldn’t have his flat,  his SPACE,  his plants .... 

But most importantly,  he wouldn’t have Aziraphale.  The thought was a DANGEROUS one,  but it was the truth.  

Crowley’s words,  seeped  in a flurry of ANGER,  began to dissolve half way through as he watched the angel’s eyes slide gradually downward,  downward  to linger upon the demon’s MOUTH.  Aziraphale’s eyes were HAZEL,  he realized,  as he’d never .... he’d never been CLOSE enough to really  study them.  Suddenly,  Crowley’s mouth felt INCREDIBLY dry  &  it was a little difficult to breathe  (  but he didn’t even need to breathe,  right ??  ).  He could feel  the soft puffs of Aziraphale’s breath brushing  against his skin,  &  the SHAPE of his eyebrows twisted  something within his chest,  the angel’s lashes partially sweeping over those SOFT eyes of his  &  oh.  

PANIC  began to seep  into his very bones,  anxiety prickling  at the edges of his nerves but along with it came EXCITEMENT,  adrenaline.  Aziraphale was the one making the SUGGESTION,  silently,  which was what made it a thousand times more tempting  (  ironic ),  as well as a thousand times more TERRIFYING.  Tightening his grip  on the angel’s lapels  (  so that the fact that his hands had begun to shake a little would go unnoticed,  he hoped ),  swallowing thickly,  Crowley tilted his head slightly—–nearly at the same time as Aziraphale did,  in the OPPOSITE direction,  so that they could easily .... 

The thought almost felt physically painful  to resist,  even though BOTH Heaven  &  Hell made it seem as though,  if they so much as touched  for too long,  or .... initiated this kind of INTIMATE closeness,  one or both of them could burst into flame.  &  yet here they stood,  breathing  each other’s air (  Crowley’s throat decidedly not burning  from inhaling air that Aziraphale had just exhaled ),  noses just BARELY brushing ... terrifyingly,  it was quite  pleasant.  It made sense for both sides to LIE,  so that something like this  wouldn’t happen,  at least not easily nor often.

After physically  holding himself still,  holding himself BACK from going any further,  what Crowley managed to ground out  was a quiet,  yet strained,

 ❝ Angel .... ❞

If you’re gonna stop me,  you better do it now.

[hencethebravery]

>> first and last lines writing game <<

I’ve been writing all wknd so I’m going to take advantage of that and play these games that @eirabach has been doing. I love you, boo.

Tagging: @jump-on-winds-back @mymostimaginaryfriend @justanotherwannabeclassic @distant-rose @jadeddiva @soft-october-night

>> 01. last line(s) you’ve written

01. wip, “dearly departed,” spn, deancas: Despite all this, and perhaps in keeping with his own preference for following through on his habits, he has never once stayed for Open Mic Night. It’s not as if he has anything against it in theory, he just never felt especially compelled to do so. And he was never a big fan of crowds generally.

“You should think about staying tonight,” Meg advises, sliding his third cup back over the counter. “I’ve heard this guy before, he’s good.”

02. wip, “the apportioners,” og: Case in point: Never betray a demi-god. Particularly one so unbelievably busted. Who would go so far as to force her to watch the other demi-god she is almost certainly (and regrettably) falling in love with, commit one more atrocity. To force her to watch her son die. Again. To force her to watch him choose between her and his family. Far, far more trouble than they’re worth. And sure—sure. She is angry. She may well always be angry. And yet. There’s the kitchen. The small, warm kitchen with the cream-colored tiled floors, inlaid with red grout. Where Edie makes too much bread and Estelle stores her spelled sourdough starters. Where Greg made her a cup of chamomile tea and described the unique softness of Clemente’s thread—how it curled and straightened and existed. And so she refuses. She refuses to do what some other irreparably broken version of her friend has expected her to do.

So. She lets him go. Again.

>> 02. first lines of my last 20 10 (20 is just... so fucking many; if you wanna do 20 be my guest but i have shit to do today) fics

01. wip, “dearly departed,” spn, deancas: Creative writing is so not his forte and really, what’s there to say about The Lodge that hasn’t already been said? A revolving door of adjectives that infect the collegiate discourse every few years—when some starry-eyed freshman sees the tall, thin door frame in all its carved, unknowable glory and gets it in their sweet, sweet head that surely no one has ever thought to opine on the virtues of a local, now-legendary establishment that seems to have haunted Main Street since long before time began. So, what is there to say that hasn’t already been said?

02. complete, “untitled,” spn, deancas: The two of ‘em establish the somewhat rude habit of bailing during get-togethers without telling anyone. They stop answering their phones at any point before noon shortly after that. He’d call it a side effect of New Couple Syndrome (NCS), but it’s something they continue doing long after any reasonable person would call something “new” (and honestly, he’s not even sure you could say it was “new” when it was new, technically).

03. complete, “untitled,” spn, deancas: There’s a fucking manticore in Memphis. Seriously. Human face, body of a lion, the whole freakin’ nine.

“Certainly one of the more… imaginative of God’s creatures,” Castiel muses, “albeit, unsustainable.” 

04. complete, “herbalist’s guide to skyrim,” star wars, reylo: Rey Kenobi really needed to get in the habit of bringing dates to restaurants she had no emotional attachment to. She had already lost an unacceptable number of extremely dear favorites that had been there for her when she’d had less than nothing and now? Blighted by the memory of mediocre men who she knew she had given far too much power. She knew she had an association problem, okay? She and her mildly overpriced therapist were working on it. Had been working on it. For a while. She really missed the dumplings from Hunger Pang.

05. complete, “a grief observed,” star wars, reylo: The presumptive triumph inherent to the return of the self? Painfully short-lived. It is brief and blinding and there is a feeling akin to invincibility singing in his veins. A humming that echoes in the gruff tenor of what could only be his father’s voice. How it must have felt when the heroes made yet another daring escape—against all the odds. The euphoria that occurs when you have begun to think that maybe, just maybe, you’ve finally won. It makes the loss so much worse than he could have ever imagined. Not when you’ve gotten so close to having everything you never even knew you wanted. And that’s half the battle, isn’t it? Knowing what you want. Like it’s easy.

06. complete, “a super solid history of the “good old fashioned lover boy(s),” c. the beginning (or there about) to now-ish,” good omens, aziraphale x crowley: Perhaps one of the cruelest tricks that God has ever played (and the list was indeed long) was in allowing angels to believe they were incapable of love. There is some amount of debate as to whether or not this was entirely by accident. She was a busy woman after all━perhaps that was why it, the question of whether or not angels were truly capable of love, had slipped through one of her metaphysical cracks (of which, admittedly, there were many). Those who managed to refrain from falling had quite an easier time believing this particular theory to be very much the case. A largely unspoken, slightly offended, “She would never,” followed by an affirmation of the belief in the long held assumption that they were above such things anyway, so really, what did it even matter, and can we please return to the task at hand?

07. complete, “first family,��� ouat, captain charming: If the chronically thin, awkward, and punk-ass 15 year old version of Killian Jones could have, somehow, opened a portal in time and space; a feat which might have allowed him to peer into the future in an attempt to witness what it might hold, he would have likely imbibed several ill-advised shots of cheap bloody rum, and then quite dramatically flung himself atop the rumpled sheets of his perpetually unmade bed. If the younger Jones had even an inkling of the type of life he’d be living as a 35 year old man─with a full time job, a mortgage, a husband, one wildly photogenic dog─he would have done everything in his power to steer himself off such a disturbingly clean-cut, well-behaved course.

08. complete, “untitled,” ouat, captain swan: Rather predictably (and not without a somewhat inevitable feeling of frustration), Emma Swan was one of those people who had never put much stock in the notion of “vibes.” She had a “freaking superpower,” according to Ruby, which allowed her to suss out the truth about people, but as soon as Ruby suggested that the same might be true of certain places, Emma had chuckled, as if it was some unheard of thing.

09. complete, “untitled,” ouat, captain charming: In the end, he’d chosen the place because to be quite bloody honest it was precisely where you might expect the writer of an obscure indie mag to live. It was an older building (a suitably generous designation), tucked in between the modernist monstrosities of the last 20 or 30 years. Replete with gorgeous, if not ill-kept, accoutrements framing the windows; crumbling steps and a brick exterior in varying shades of red and orange. The aesthetic was rounded out by the kind of neglectful landlord you might expect, a horrid man who frequently enjoyed reminding his tenants that he lived, “out of state,” and they’d have to, “be patient.”

10. complete,” untitled,” ouat, captain charming: There’s an old adage about assumptions that Killian Jones finds physically repulsive. It is so unerringly awful, in fact, that he won’t even deign to repeat the thing in his own head. You know what it is, it’s not as if he needs to speak the actual words. And regardless of the fact that there’s this old, tired saying about assumptions, people still do it, and he’s done it, and ya know what? It kind of worked out in his favor, so, take that.

[tifaria]

(for the advent prompt list by @drawlight which you can find here. Not sure I'll do all the prompts, but I'm going to try! May even sprinkle in some drawings)

02 - snow

“Oh, the weather outside is frightful…” Crowley crooned, leaning over the back of the couch to press a warm cup of cocoa into Aziraphale’s hands.

“But the fire is so delightful,” a snap, and the fireplace came to life.

“And since we’ve no place to go,” he tumbled over the back of the couch, landing with his head on Aziraphale’s leg, looking up at him in adoration.

“Let it snow,” Aziraphale chimed in, and leaned down to kiss him, “Let it snow,” another kiss, “let it snow,” the last one a whisper before his lips brushed against Crowley’s ever so gently.

“Think it’ll let up any time soon, Angel?”

“Hmm.” Aziraphale sipped his cocoa, eyes flicking up to look outside the cottage window. “If it doesn’t?”

The demon looked up at him with a smirk. “I can think of plenty of ways to occupy ourselves until it does.”

“As can I.” Aziraphale smirked, raised his eyebrows suggestively, and set his cocoa on the side table. He stroked Crowley’s hair gently... then reached over him to pick up a book on the coffee table. “Shall we resume our story?”

Crowley groaned. “Oh, if you insist.” He rolled onto his side, bringing his knees up and sighing. “Still the Dickens, then?”

“‘Tis the season, dear,” Aziraphale said, clearing his throat. “On to part two. ‘When Scrooge awoke, it was so dark, that, looking out of bed, he could scarcely distinguish the transparent window from the opaque walls of his chamber.’”

Crowley pulled the blanket off the back of the sofa, draped it over himself, and closed his eyes. “After we finish this I get to choose the activity,” he murmured.

“Of course, my darling,” Aziraphale replied, threading his fingers through Crowley’s hair. “Now then. ‘He was endeavoring to pierce the darkness with his ferret eyes…’”

[bohemiandivinity]

❛ it’s been… quite nice, having you around the place. ❜  |  @worshipsbooks​ TERRY PRATCHETT’S REAPER MAN: CD SIX SENTENCE MEME !!

 ❝ Why,  ‘ZIRAPHALE, ❞

Crowley began,  tilting his head  &  shoulders sideways toward the angel,  the movement quite  EXAGGERATED,  whilst he gestured with a half-empty wine glass in his hand.  He was quite drunk,  sitting upon Aziraphale’s comfortable couch,  LONG LIMBS sprawled outwardly,  perhaps even invitingly.

 ❝ Are you ssssaying  you’ve MISSSSED me ? ❞

The GRIN that spread across the demon’s features held only FONDNESS  &  a little bit of amusement,  which originated within the pit of his stomach  &  was now REACHING OUT to envelop him completely.  Crowley hadn’t yet REALIZED that it wasn’t  amusement,  not really,  it was more of an affectionate giddiness.

[ofginjxints]

Crowley had turned but apparently slipped back into his casual self once more. It was reassuring to see they could get back into their natural rhythm again, even if there was a sort of hollowness within him. Yet another missed opportunity. But that seemed to be the two of them time and time again. Even in such pressing times, they could never quite speak the words on the tip of their tongues.

"I'm not sure I do." He admitted, hands fidgeting as he held them loosely before him. "Perhaps we'll find more clues at the convent. Split up then." A suggestion, a silent plea to let Crowley stay with him just a little longer. Who knew how much time they had left in the grand scheme of things were they unsuccessful with their endeavours.

At that, Crowley did finally turn (maybe a little too quickly, though of course he would deny it). He didn't want to part ways just yet, no matter how tense and confrontational the conversation in the pub had been. Theoretically, of course, it could be beneficial to split up, cover more ground, as the saying went---but they didn't even know what ground needed covering.

What was he supposed to say? No, don't go, stay with me, please? Absolutely not. Best to fall back on his tried-and-true aloof demeanor. He shrugged one shoulder and tried to look indifferent, though he wasn't sure how convincing he was.

"Do you have any other leads to investigate?"

[ofginjxints]

Relief washed over Aziraphale when Crowley finally replied, glad he hadn't ruined anything with the way he had acted. He was still nervous though, what was going through the demon's mind? Did he know? He assumed he did, he wasn't exactly being subtle with his jealousy, and yet somehow he hadn't put Crowley off. It appeared as though he were happy to brush things under the rug, and he was ever grateful for the blasé way the demon approached most things.

"Quite." He agreed, glad they were moving on even if it pained him to walk away from yet another shared moment. "Of course, that makes sense." He nodded. "I could possibly investigate elsewhere," he suggested with hesitation in his voice, "unless you think it beneficial for me to come with you?"

Crowley stopped when he felt Aziraphale take hold of his arm, though he still didn't turn to face him. Truthfully (though Crowley did not particularly enjoy being honest, especially with himself), it wasn't anger that kept his back to the angel but embarrassment. What right did he have to be so upset? Whatever his feelings for Aziraphale, they were friends at most, he had no claim over him. And now the potential end of the world was only days away, did he really want to spend it fuming and brooding, rather than savouring every second he could get with him before everything went sideways?

"S'fine," Crowley muttered after a pause. "It's like you said. Everything that's happening, it's---it's a lot. Making both of us a bit irrational I guess."

"We're running out of time. If he didn't know anything, next best thing we can do is just go to the convent where I delivered the boy in the first place, see if we can trace the steps back, so to speak."

[ofginjxints]

Aziraphale held his breath as Crowley's eyes bore into his. So sure he would say something, finally prod at the fact he was so pathetic and jealous for him. What would the demon want to do with someone like him? He was so afraid he would lose him in that moment. But then...Crowley simply turned at his heel.

His mind was trying to play catch-up. Crowley didn't say anything. It wasn't the first time he had been taken aback by the demon, but this time he was altogether confused. Was he simply so disgusted he wanted to leave? His stomach churned at the thought, but silence wasn't going to do either of them any good. Armageddon drew closer with each moment. They still had to work together.

He cantered out of the pub to follow, "Crowley - please." He reached out for his arm to stop him. "Sorry, I shouldn't have done or uh, said anything. I suppose just everything that's happening - it's made me act quite foolishly. We still need to find the boy. Let's work together - please." Hopefully they could simply sweep this under the rug. They could continue being allies in a world that split them into two and he could simply control his own feelings and actions.

Crowley held Aziraphale's gaze for a long, tense moment. Everything in him wanted to clamp his hands down on the angel's shoulders, push him back into his chair, straddle his lap, and kiss him in a way that would make him forget what it felt like to have ever been touched by anyone else. In the back of his mind, a voice was whispering World's ending in a few days anyway, what have you got to lose?

But the answer was everything. If by some miracle they managed to pull this off and avert the apocalypse, Crowley couldn't risk doing anything that might make Aziraphale want to avoid him. That meant keeping his jealousy under control, it meant swallowing back his wounded ego, it meant biting his tongue before he could say anything to make the situation worse.

With a soft scoffing noise his only response, Crowley shoved both hands into his pockets and spun on his heel, a certain moodiness to his gait as he made his way back outside. It allowed him to keep his pride intact and gave the angel the chance to follow after him, should he so wish---and of course Crowley silently hoped that he would.

[ofginjxints]

Aziraphale was panicked, he had quite accidentally revealed he was lustful, and had acted on the lustful feelings. Not only that, but that he was so blatantly jealous of him. Surely the can of worms were open. Crowley had to add two and two together and realise the angel yearned for him.

He was stopped in his tracks by the demon who stood before him defiantly. Was he trying to test him? Try to have him admit aloud the distasteful thoughts he had towards him? The angel felt quite timid as he shook his head, "No, not at all. I-It was just very personal." He tried to be vague, hoping they could just both leave that evening's events behind. "It seemed better to leave you to it." So he wouldn't have to sit up close and see the one being he desired being kissed by a total stranger.

Crowley watched Aziraphale's mouth fall open and did his best not to think about how badly he wanted to press his own to it. That would certainly shut him up, at least.

"We didn't know it was a waste of time until after, but you still got all huffy and left."

Not that Crowley cared what Aziraphale thought, of course. Why would he care? Generally speaking, Crowley was exceptionally good at lying to himself, but that one was giving him trouble. Not only did he care what Aziraphale thought, but he was the only one whose opinion Crowley held in any sort of regard. Which was why he pressed on rather than let it drop.

Crowley stood, too, moving swiftly to corner his companion, blocking his path out of the pub.

"So what's the real problem here? These---liaisons---they're only okay when an angel has them, that it?"

[ofginjxints]

"Well I don't go around asking about people's...liaisons." To put it delicately. Truth be told he really had no idea what the other angels did, whether what he did was right. But he had to agree with the way of the world, right? Her ineffable plan? Aziraphale's dalliances all lead to good things. He had taken on different forms and inspired creatives or persuaded important figures. It was all for a Purpose, he reasoned.

He turned to look over at Crowley and his mouth fell agape slightly. What was his problem? His problem was the rather handsome man with his hands on Crowley when he wanted his hands on Crowley but he could hardly say that aloud. He barely wanted to think it in case the demon had somehow developed a mind-reading ability in the few moments they had been apart.

"I-I-" His lips stammered. "I don't have a problem with anything. Certainly not your kissing a human. I was merely perturbed about the time we were wasting, and the time we're wasting now, in fact."

Suddenly, he stood to his feet, so fast he knocked the table, their glasses spilling slightly. "Right, so, we ought to follow our other leads, or perhaps we should split up - cover more ground." Perhaps being away from Crowley would do the trick of pushing his feelings far, far down.

"Well, when you say it like that..." the demon grumbled, not at all happy to be faced with exactly how absurd his assumption had been. "Though in my defense, I'd be willing to bet you're the only angel who wasn't."

Of course, Aziraphale not being like the rest of the angels was exactly why Crowley liked him. Crowley tossed back the rest of his drink and all but slammed the glass back down on the table. There were dozens of questions going through his head now, but most of them weren't things he'd dare actually voice.

How long? How often? How recently? What kind of person? And those were on the more tame side.

There was one question, however, that Crowley felt perfectly justified in asking.

"Wait---"

"If you've been going 'round all this time sleeping with humans, what was your problem with me kissing one?"

[ofginjxints]

Aziraphale really didn't understand how under all his embarrassment he still felt an indignance in the way the demon spoke. Trivialising it down to being 'hot and bothered', he could practically feel himself puffing up in annoyance.

He should have stayed quiet, kept it all in and let it simmer away somewhere deep, deep down. But, in a haze of Crowley kissing that man and making him feel rather small, he instead blurted out, "It hasn't only crossed my mind - I have a human body same as you, you know." His words were haughty, as though he had a point to prove (which he had).

Right. Natural. Made sense, didn't it? So the angel had gotten turned on before. So what? Didn't mean anything had ever actually come of it---not that Crowley had any right to complain if anything had. He knew that. He knew that! Aziraphale was an angel, he was a demon, and that was that. They were...well, they were friends, and really, Crowley knew he ought to be grateful for that much.

He should just drop the subject. Leave it alone. That would be the wise move. Then again, wisdom often failed him when it concerned Aziraphale.

"Just never figured an angel to get all hot and bothered, is all."

"Six thousand years on Earth, guess it's not so unusual if the thought's crossed your mind from time to time..."

[ofginjxints]

Aziraphale's eyes were wide, lips pursed tightly as though he could close them enough for the words be taken right back again. But, of course, that was not how it worked and he could feel the judgement of Crowley's eyes even behind his sunglasses.

He felt the heat rising in his cheeks. It was rather quite uncharacteristic of an angel, sure. But he had been on earth for so long. He had a human body which was capable of quite a lot and he had used to the full extent. Sometimes lust was a good motivator for Good as well.

"W-well, why do you sound so surprised? We have human bodies, you know. Been here a long time. It's natural." He reasoned, though he was mortified he was having this conversation with the demon.

Crowley froze with his glass half-raised to his lips. Well now. Wasn't that an interesting rebuttal.

Slowly, the glass was lowered to the table. One elbow braced against tabletop, the demon leaned forward, looking the angel up and down as though assessing him.

"You?" The single syllable was laden disbelief. The idea that Aziraphale---prim, proper, angelic Aziraphale---had ever looked at anyone with that kind of desire in his heart seemed nearly inconceivable.

Or maybe Crowley just didn't want it to be true.

"You're telling me you have actually lusted after someone?"

[ofginjxints]

The angel's breath hitched at the sight of the human pressing his lips against Crowley. Surely that was too forward, too much for a first meeting. But oh, the demon was kissing back.

Of course.

He was a demon and lust was simply one of many Temptations. It was silly of him to want to frame it using his own angelic logic. It was his work. Simply another facet of him. It was to his understanding that it was something Crowley did, and had possibly done plenty of times before. This time, in fact, it was to aid their gathering of information. All with a purpose. For the greater good.

Why oh why then did something deep within him clench painfully in his chest? Consciously, he moved his gaze to his untouched second glass of brandy, though it shot right back, he was unable to tear his eyes away really. It was...painful. It was stupid. He was an angel, and Crowley was a demon. They shouldn't have even been fraternising as they had done for years, but the consideration it could have been something more? Well, perhaps sometimes he had considered it. Daydreamed about it. Thought about it. Yearned for it. Ached for it.

Crowley could never know though. Aziraphale was well aware it was one-sided. What would a demon as effortlessly cool, dangerous and debonair want to do with a soft, mild-mannered, rule-following angel? They had formed an unlikely acquaintanceship, a business partnership - that was likely how Crowley saw it. With that thought he finally looked away, down at his glass that he brought to his lips.

---

After what felt like several human lifetimes, Crowley had sauntered back over, acting as though nothing had happened as he sat casually beside him. He pressed his lips together into a thin line, careful with his choice of words. "Quite." Truly pointless. Another squirm in his chest.

"There isn't a look on my face." He insisted, though Crowley was probably right. "I thought that was going to be a conversation and not..." he gestured vaguely to where the man was still sat at the bar, "that."

From the corner of his eye, Crowley could see enough movement to know that Aziraphale was moving away, but before he could even consider abandoning the task at hand to follow the angel, the human's lips were on his. As much as he'd prefer to slink off after Aziraphale, he did still have a job to do...

_____

Some time and one thorough snogging later, Crowley dropped down onto a seat in the corner by Aziraphale, looking irritated and drinking deeply from a glass of whiskey.

"Well that was bloody pointless," he grumbled, his own bad mood momentarily distracting him from asking about Aziraphale's. "Turns out he was a groundskeeper at the convent---twelve years ago. He was gone before anything important happened there."

He raised a brow at Aziraphale, still interpreting the look on his face to be one of judgement.

"Don't give me that look, angel. I told you you didn't have to come with me."

[ofginjxints]

Aziraphale's lips were pursed, practically biting down on his lips to stave off any interjection. The angel reminded himself they were actively investigating, and it was important. They had the wrong boy - they had to find the right one. They were trying to stop Armageddon for Christ's sake (well, perhaps it was a few years late for him but for the rest of the modern world).

Yet, the hand that was not holding the brandy glass was clenching in his lap and he glanced over and the two were getting handsy. He made a small disgruntled noise he tried to disguise as a cough, knocking back the brandy before sliding off the bar stool. He'd had quite enough of being around all that. If Crowley was going to cosy up to a man for information so be it, but did he have to be so...convincing?

Instead he made his way towards the bartender at the other side of the bar and asked for another brandy before sitting at the corner of the pub. He tried his damned(!) best not to look back at the bar, but failed as he continued to stew in what he knew deep down (yet never admit) to be jealousy.

Aziraphale's growing distress went unnoticed, Crowley's attention being focused on playing his part and making it believable.

"Geoffrey," the man answered, reaching over to rest his own hand atop Crowley's. The palm was rough, the fingers a bit calloused; clearly someone who worked with his hands. Hopefully that meant they were on the right track and he was, indeed, the groundskeeper they'd been looking for.

"Pleasure to meet you," the demon purred, the emphasis on that first word apparently enough to coax Geoffrey's hand to move from Crowley's own to instead rest at the small of his back. Crowley allowed himself to be pulled closer, the concept of personal space apparently completely out the window; he could tell from the look in his eye that any minute now, he would likely be trying for a kiss.

And what of it? It would hardly be the first time a human had kissed him, it shouldn't make him anxious. But something about Aziraphale being right there made all the difference, and suddenly Crowley was wishing they'd found literally any other lead to follow.

[ofginjxints]

Aziraphale's lips were pursed together, he wanted to interject but the man was supposedly a groundskeeper of the old nunnery. He was in rather beautiful shape for a man his age and...he did wonder if he was Crowley's type...if he had a type, that was. But, they had a job to do after all, the angel and the demon. Armageddon wasn't far off, and they were the only two standing in the way of finding the right boy. The last thing on his mind should have been ways in which Crowley was talking to a human.

But then Crowley's voice was frustratingly seductive. He turned and his hand was on the man's arm. Aziraphale's chest puffed up. He brought the brandy glass to his lips and took quite a large sip. He wasn't sure how much else he had it in him to simply sit there and watch it all unfold or whether he should simply leave.

Predictable. So very predictable. Humans almost always were when it came to this sort of thing. This was a familiar dance, so to speak, one Crowley could do with hardly a thought---at least, that was usually the case. But then, usually he didn't have an angel sitting right beside him.

He could practically feel the waves of disapproval rolling off of Aziraphale, and he assumed that when this was all said and done he'd be in for a lecture about how he oughtn't be toying with some poor, unsuspecting human's emotions or something of the sort. In his defense, he had tried to tell Aziraphale he didn't need to tag along.

"All night, eh?" The inflection in the demon's voice had gone from lightly flirtatious to outright suggestive, something that was emphasized by the way long, slender fingers ran up the man's arm.

"Don't you think you ought to at least tell me your name first?"

[ofginjxints]

Aziraphale had faced forwards so it he wasn't encroaching as such, but he was still sat right there. He finally reached out to his glass of brandy, holding it more than anything else.

The angel didn't so mind the human speaking with a flirtatious lilt in his voice, but when Crowley responded with similar fervour, he felt the earth swallowing him up. He had absolutely no reason to feel anything he did, of course. Crowley's specialty was Temptation and he had done it in plenty of different ways, lust was perhaps particularly effective when it came to people. It was something he had probably done millions of times before. It shouldn't have made Aziraphale feel anything, but there was a rageful monster within him that roared in protest.

From his peripheral, he saw the human turn his body towards Crowley and lean into him. "I have all night for you, handsome."

Handsome? Really? Did the human have to be so good-looking, and so overtly amorous? He could barely contain the disdain on his face, glad the demon was not looking his way.

Thanks to the shield of his tinted lenses, Crowley was free to roll his eyes without the man noticing. This wasn't really the approach he'd intended to take, but he supposed any opening would do. And besides, it wasn't as though he didn't have experience flirting with humans to get what he wanted. He just didn't particularly enjoy it.

And he certainly didn't like having to do it with Aziraphale sitting right beside him.

But, well... they had good reason to believe that this man might know something that could put them on the right path to track down the correct boy, seeing as they'd just wasted eleven years minding the wrong one. There wasn't much more time left to waste, and if that meant Crowley had to charm the information out of him, then so be it.

"Alright, maybe not the best opening line." The demon put on the most bewitching smile he could muster and leaned closer.

"But it gave me an excuse to talk to you, didn't it?"