Scifi Multimuse

Of course, it had to end, so Aziraphale had no business complaining about it. He limited his regrets to a small sigh, then deliberately relaxed his posture again.

"I forgive you," he said first, because that was always the most important thing, but the rest of what Crowley said was a little jumbled and he frowned slightly as he tried to puzzle through it. Oh, the human. Yes, that was what had started this, wasn't it? Privately, Aziraphale disagreed strongly with the notion that he should have asked. What good could that have done, when Aziraphale would have been obligated to say 'no' for both of their safety? But what did he mean by 'not actually my'? Aziraphale was not actually his what?

Well, that settled that, then, didn't it? Aziraphale must have been bothered by the touching, the overstepping; why else would he feel the need to make it clear that he forgave him for it?

I forgive you. Something about those words always seemed to sting. Crowley tried not to let his mind linger too long on that; at least Aziraphale wasn't so bothered as to want to get away from him.

"Hm? Oh, yeah, lunch---yeah, I meant that. Wouldn't lie to you about lunch."

This was fine. No, more than fine; this was good. It was normal for them, which meant that even if the angel was perturbed by his little display, it wasn't serious. They could forget it, move on, fall easily back into their familiar routines. And, really, it wasn't as though he had any right to wish for anything more.

Both hands were shoved firmly into his pockets, a silent reassurance that they would be kept to themselves, and that Aziraphale needn't fret about a repeat offense, and Crowley strode towards the Bentley, parked just a few metres up near the corner.

"No need to go far," he said, thoroughly charmed by the way he'd responded to his teasing. "There's a lovely place just down the street, there." Aziraphale gestured and smiled warmly, falling into step with Crowley as though it was all perfectly natural. It did feel a little more natural once Crowley's hands were on the steering wheel instead of stuffed defensively into too-tight pockets.

He argued with himself the whole time (of at least for the bits where he wasn't absorbed by the delights his meal offered), but it was only at the very end, after plates had been cleared, that Aziraphale made the gesture he so wanted to, and prayed it wouldn't be too much.

Though he might have privately wished that it were possible for him to take Crowley's hand and hold him as he slept and help him with his wings and his hair in the sort of casual intimacy that a friendship with another angel might have entailed... Well. It was a useless wish, and so they touched infrequently as well. That arm left him almost buzzing inside his corporation with the wrongness and the rightness of it both. But of course he had more important things to consider than the way those long fingers were currently resting over the side seam of his jacket. Such as lunch, apparently.

Uh oh. He'd overstepped, hadn't he? Aziraphale seemed to have frozen under his touch, and really, could Crowley blame him? Sure, they were friends, but that didn't mean there weren't boundaries. Boundaries the demon had apparently hurtled right over.

And for what? To shoo off some human, as though Aziraphale couldn't handle himself? No, if Crowley were being honest with himself---something he was loathe to do more often than not---his primary motivation for stepping in hadn't been protective. It had been jealousy.

Idiot. Got no right to be jealous.

Too late to back down now, at least not until they were well out of sight of the would-be suitor. The hand on Aziraphale's waist held just a bit tighter as Crowley lead him through the crowd of people milling about the sidewalk---until they rounded the corner, that is. His hand withdrew quickly, and he took a step back to better give Aziraphale his space.

Of course, it had to end, so Aziraphale had no business complaining about it. He limited his regrets to a small sigh, then deliberately relaxed his posture again.

"I forgive you," he said first, because that was always the most important thing, but the rest of what Crowley said was a little jumbled and he frowned slightly as he tried to puzzle through it. Oh, the human. Yes, that was what had started this, wasn't it? Privately, Aziraphale disagreed strongly with the notion that he should have asked. What good could that have done, when Aziraphale would have been obligated to say 'no' for both of their safety? But what did he mean by 'not actually my'? Aziraphale was not actually his what?

"Well, no, not on purpose." Of course Crowley knew that. He hadn't thought for a second that Aziraphale's disappearance had been deliberate.

"But, you know...Hell had figured out it was my fault the kid got lost, and someone finally drew the connection between me and you, and I mean...well, it's not crazy to think that---"

That Heaven had decided to deal with their rogue angel. Just as they had tried to do once the whole Armageddon thing had gone pear-shaped, only Aziraphale would have been without the protection of a Hellfire-immune demon wearing his likeness.

"Even if you hadn't been destroyed, it was really looking like the world was going to end. No way they'd send you back down in a new corporation if it was all gonna be gone in a few hours anyway. I thought---" his voice caught, and he looked away, unable to meet the angel's gaze in this moment of rare honesty.

Crowley was accustomed to rescuing the angel. Usually, that meant rescuing him from peril---but he supposed he could also rescue him from a deeply uncomfortable social situation. Well, that, and he didn't particularly like seeing some human flirting so shamelessly with him.

With a smile like a knife, Crowley sauntered across the room, sidling up close to Aziraphale.

"Hey, babe, sorry I'm late."

Aziraphale always hated this. It didn't happen all that frequently, really, but over thousands of years, it had certainly come up before. Humans were meant to seek out companionship; flirting was a part of that drive. Usually, Aziraphale could simply feign ignorance until the problem went away, but today, that strategy wasn't working with its usual effectiveness. Crowley though, could always get the most persistent of suitors to back away.

"Perfectly fine, Angel."

Well, fine now that the human's persistent flirting had been foiled. Granted, Crowley was now realizing he had acted without really thinking it through. He was so close to the angel, close enough to smell his cologne, feel the warmth radiating off of him. It made that superfluous thing his in chest race and his throat run dry. But it was too late to back out now. Just had to stick with the charade until they were away from the human. And hope that Aziraphale wouldn't be too upset with him for doing what he needed to to sell the act.

Which, at this moment, meant draping one long arm around the angel, hand resting upon his waist.

Though he might have privately wished that it were possible for him to take Crowley's hand and hold him as he slept and help him with his wings and his hair in the sort of casual intimacy that a friendship with another angel might have entailed... Well. It was a useless wish, and so they touched infrequently as well. That arm left him almost buzzing inside his corporation with the wrongness and the rightness of it both. But of course he had more important things to consider than the way those long fingers were currently resting over the side seam of his jacket. Such as lunch, apparently.

"Well. You, would like it. I can say I quite certainly did not." A lie.

There he went again, getting all worked up. Unsurprising, really, that Crowley was so good at finding just the right little strings to tug on to make Aziraphale unravel; they knew each other better than anyone, after all. He suspected Aziraphale could do the same to him, should he so desire, though of course Crowley wasn't going to bring attention to that. He liked having the upper hand too much.

Midway through Aziraphale's heated defense, however, the demon's smile faltered, the air of amusement about him flickering like an unsteady flame.

"A signal? I didn't know you were even looking for a body, I thought you'd---" The flame of amusement was snuffed out entirely as Crowley recalled the moment he'd realized he couldn't sense Aziraphale anywhere. For the first time in thousands of years, the angel's presence had been undetectable. He'd thought he was gone, that he was on his own. If he had known that Aziraphale had been looking for him...

Pain and adrenaline combined to make cloud the demon's mind, making him only vaguely aware of Aziraphale holding onto him and shooting up into the air. Not until he was laid out on the couch and Aziraphale spoke was his mind once more anchored, the angel's voice acting as a beacon to guide him back to the here and now. Crowley hissed in pain when the wound was pressed, but he laid one hand atop Aziraphale's, encouraging him to leave it there. It may have hurt, but he knew the importance of applying pressure to a wound.

"Don't know either," he muttered between laboured breaths. "Never---nngh---never had an injury like this in a---a body..."

Sweat was beading on his brow, but when he turned to look Aziraphale's way, he was still trying to paste a grin onto his pallid face.

@galacticforces MY TURN FOR A STARTER YOLO

Starter comes right after this drabble.

Crowley was in the bookshop lounging on the couch with his feet very purposely on the cushions when Aziraphale came in, he had told Uriel to tell them that she didn't think he had been back to the bookshop; but Muriel had been doing a wonderful job selling books well Aziraphale was away. If they wanted someone to go with him to earth, she would offer; apparently that had been needed.

He felt absolutely miserable too, but they'd suffered away from each other before, and this was simply too important to abandon. If Aziraphale didn't follow through, there would be no future for them.

But that wasn't the point he was trying to get at, what even was the point he was trying to make? That it wasn't fair that he had been so willing to go? No matter what his reasoning was? What would that do other than make him feel guilty? He was sitting up now as he spoke. “Forget it, doesn't matter.” What did he think this was going to do that their conversation before hadn't been able to.