Aziraphale

RP Related

What first drew you to your muse?

Do you have any verses you want to write but haven't fully figured out yet?

What's your favorite icon of your muse?

How do you feel you and your muse are similar?

Are there any parts of canon that you ignore for your muse?

Is there any fanon you embrace for your muse?

Is there any fanon about your muse that you can't stand?

What's a song that reminds you of your muse?

Do you have any old muses you'd like to bring back?

What's the hardest part about writing your muse?

What's the easiest part about writing your muse?

Are there any more muses you want to play?

Do you have a preference between platonic or romantic relationships?

Personal

Are you an early bird or a night owl?

Which is worse, stepping on a lego or stubbing your toe?

Do you prefer sweet or salty flavors?

Share an interesting fact about yourself.

If you could pick an animal to freely shapeshift into, what would you pick?

Do you enjoy spicy food?

What's your favorite movie?

What's your favorite TV show?

What's your favorite video game?

How well do you handle horror?

The reason he'd been able to slither away unscathed was almost as bad as getting caught in the first place, at least in Crowley's mind. He has spent centuries trying to keep Aziraphale safe, and now the angel may be in more danger than even and it's his fault.

But what else could he have done?

The pacing stopped, though the demon's hands fidgeted restlessly for another moment or two before he shoved them into his pockets to keep them still. Head turned sharply to one side, unable to meet the angel's eye even through the protection of dark lenses.

"I...I may have told Hell I'd decided to, erm...make corrupting an angel a personal project..."

And just like that, his hands are up again, out in front in a sort of hang on gesture, eager to cut off any protest from the angel with an explanation.

"I know, I know it sounds bad. But I had to tell them something, or we'd both be dead. Because you know Hell'd turn and tell Heaven if they got the real truth, but this will buy us some time, at least. And it means they probably won't tell your side about it. If they think I'm trying to get you to Fall or something, they're not going to want other angels to step in and try t'stop me."

It comes out a little high pitched, indignation cut through by fear, but he doesn't get much further before Crowley hushes him with a disarming gesture. He lets him speak without interrupting again, almost relieved not to have to react immediately.

When Crowley is finished, he finds that he still doesn't quite know how to respond, but he looks marginally softer than he did a few seconds ago. As much as he is against the idea of selling the story that Crowly has been - somewhat succesfully - corrupting him, he can't come up with a single idea that had the potential to keep both of them safe, and he isn't willing to cover up for himself at Crowley's expense.

crowley only manages an affirming grunt at 'finding a way to get past' what transpired between them. he didn't feel like he could traverse any further into the conversation that they wouldn't be able to fully sort through when the second coming was being juggled in the same hands. perhaps sometime after they talk to gabriel and beelzebub.

the angel suggests food and he is amiable to that. glancing at a road sign as they passed, a hint of smile curls the corner of his lips. ❝ funny you should suggest that. we're near somewhere i heard a foodie tourist yapping about in nina's shop. i — well, i thought you might enjoy it, so i saved it for if we ever got the chance. ❞ it was only 30 minutes further that crowley took an exit leading to 'oldstead, york'. ❝ yeah, might be best. know thy enemy and all that. ❞

when the bentley came to park, they were outside of an old inn. cobblestone masonry surrounded by greenery. the sun had begun to set, so the warm glow of the lamps lighting the parking lot had the place looking more magical than it already would have otherwise. crowley found himself nervous because it had been so long since they shared a candlelit dinner ... so long and before sharing a kiss.

the demon was the first to exit the vehicle, taking the opportunity to stretch his long legs. he sauntered a ways up the gravel path, then back towards the car so that he wasn't very far ahead of aziraphale. once they stand inside at the hostess table, crowley did all the talking. as smooth as he could be to receive a table with no miracles. luckily, two were easier to seat on short notice than larger groups, especially before the dinner rush hits likely an hour or two later.

a waiter approached them shortly upon sitting and reads the menu recommendations aloud : ' the dexter beef, gherkin horseradish with asparagus, guanciale, and elderflower, fermented grain and sour butter. with the beef, i suggest the 2019 taaibosch crescendo which is a bordeaux from south africa. for dessert, we have a petit four of yogurt whey and chicory. ' crowley looks to his companion for an affirmative before the waiter disappears to put the order in. he feels accomplished. the menu alone should have the angel's mouth watering.

The silence that settles between them for the remainder of the ride is of a decidedly more pleasant nature than it had been up until that point. As they pull up at a rustic looking inn, Aziraphale is looking through the car window, mesmerized by the picturesqueness of it all. The warm lamplight at dusk cast the whole scene in a soft glow and made it look like something straight out of fairy tale. You didn't have sights like these in Heaven. Nothing so charmingly full of imperfections that it became a different - more authentic - kind of perfect.

Before he has properly registered it, they are parked and Crowley is out of the car. He lets him get a few steps ahead, just enough time for him to wipe his eyes and put on a smile worthy of the occasion. Still, he is grateful that Crowley has taken it upon him to do the talking as he gets his bearings.

By the time the menu has been read to them, the angel is genuinely excited about the food about to come their way. If the smells around them were anything to go by, it would be absolutely scrumptious. Crowley's toast has him suddenly aware that he hasn't spoken in a while, and he beams as their glasses touch.

When the wine passes his lips, a sigh of contentment leaves him.

"Thank you - this is...", he raises his eyebrows as he looks around, all but lost for words, "this is wonderful."

And it was wonderful, there is just so much standing in the way of the joyfull feelings that should accompany an occasions such as this, that his stomach is in knots. By the time dinner arrives, it takes effort to keep his smile from faltering, and his glass of wine remains untouched on the table.

He thanks the waiter politely, and while he hadn't considered it possible only seconds ago, the sight of what's put before him has him completely present. He savours the first bite as if it's something holy. It's not so much the fact that a year away from Earth was a long time in the grand scheme of things, as the fact that he had a taste of what it would be like never to experience LIFE again. Because whatever was up there, it wasn't life. Not for him. Not anymore.

"Now this is the sort of discovery I might have expected you to call me about-"

sometimes the enormity of aziraphale's heart astounded him. how the angel didn't get hurt or hurt for every living creature that passed him by truly amazed him. crowley's shoulders sagged. the demon felt his whole body wishing to be softer as the other spoke. ❝ yeah, i think he'll be fine, angel. at least better off than what he would have been. ❞ jesus was possibly in the hands of the best person to look after him.

his head was dead on looking at the road, but out of the corner of his eye, he couldn't help trying to look at his friend's face. he caught only a glimpse before they went back to staring ahead. aziraphale says there's nothing else pressing and he makes the mistake of believing that meant nothing else to talk about. he relaxes until the next sentence begins to leave the angel's lips.

immediately, both hands grip the wheel, his knuckles turning white. there was no where for him to run. not unless he opened the door and dived out to meet pavement beside them, which was entirely too dramatic for the situation. so instead, he decided to grin and bear it. but, he was surprised. aziraphale says he made a mess of things. and crowley had thought it was he who'd done that.

even though the angel was trying to hide the emotion in his voice, it was coming out on certain words. crowley felt a white-hot stinging in his eyes and muttered a curse under his breath as he forced the tears back from whence they came.

he had known in his own way that the other was sorry. he could tell from the moment the angel entered his vehicle. but sorry for what exactly, he wasn't sure. ❝ aziraphale — ❞ crowley wanted to tell him to stop. stop speaking. don't speak anymore. yet, he found that he couldn't. as much as it hurt, it also healed. serving like a balm at the red, raw edges of the wound. only temporary though. there would need to be way more apologies from the both of them before it could fully heal for either of them.

Even without looking at his companion, he can tell that the next topic of conversation makes him uncomfortable. His name spoken in warning, Aziraphale stops for a moment, holding a breath he didn't need in anticipation of Crowley's response.

After their disastrous parting, for the first time ever, the angel had considered the possibility that their differences had finally created a ridge between them neither of them would be able to cross. The mere thought of it filled him with a sort of dread he could neither explain, nor compare to anything he had experienced before. It was like losing a part of himself, really.

When, against all odds, the demon doesn't tell him where he can shove his empty words, but voices an apology of his own, the angel can finally relax a little and utters a statement that is equal parts hope and promise:

"Then we will find a way to get past this."

"Now -", he turns back to face his companion, eager to move on to lighter topics, "perhaps we are far enough from London to venture a little stop? I haven't had a bite to eat in months!"

The Metatron might have offered him a latté to win him over, consuming human sustenance was still highly frowned upon in Heaven. While they hadn't technically forbidden him from enjoying it, he found it impossible to do so under those circumstances.

when crowley suggested — no, demanded — the angel to hold on, he never imagined that it would be to his thigh. the material of black denim did nothing to act as a barrier. he felt the divots in his flesh under each fingertip like it was bare skin. fortunately, he was too busy working in tandem with the bentley to gain control of the situation. though, high upon his cheekbones, a subtle blush formed.

that moment passed in an instant and he was all fear and fury. ❝ you did what? him, as in THE Him? ❞ crowley's incredulous voice rose to a high pitch. he reeled back from his proximity to the angel. snake's gaze flickers back and forth rapidly from the vial to aziraphale's face. ❝ okay, alright, i'm listening. go on. ❞ the 't' in alright is overexaggerated making a ticking sound against his teeth.

upon hearing the rest of his explanation, particularly the part about not wanting jesus to go through what he did again, crowley's chest heaves with a sigh. ❝ fair point, angel. he doesn't deserve that all over again. ❞ golden eyes land on the vial one more time. ❝ i don't remember — is that how they keep those things? or did you come up with that one? ❞ by things, crowley is referring to souls that heaven has on hand just for these cases. much like how adam was created before being given ( accidentally ) to the young family of hogback lane. his glasses still hadn't made their way back to his nose. they were clenched in his hand as it gripped the wheel.

they had safely exited the m25, bypassed the heavenly blockade, and now he looked for an opportunity to get back onto the roadway. the bentley would be caked in dirt and grass from their tumultuous entry into the median. she'd have to be taken care of later the old fashioned way. no miracles. he swerves through an opening in the guard rails of the m1 heading north to successfully merge into the sparse traffic. everyone else was held up by the search beams and low clouds.

He isn't sure whether it was the argument of stopping The End Times or of saving Jesus from reliving the HORRORS that befell his first time around, but the demon's face softens and when he speaks next, both the bite and the urgency have left his voice.

"They had already separated him from the other souls, the poor thing."

Aziraphale glances down at the vial again, fingers closing around it protectively. To be perfectly honest, he isn't sure that this is at all an appropriate means to transport a soul. After all, once you made it upstairs, you weren't supposed to be transported anywhere. It was a rather permanent set up.

"I needed a way to carry him with me - I do hope I didn't freighten him by putting him there, but we hardly have corporations lying about..."

"Do you think he'll be allright?"

Now that the excitement has somewhat died down, the car steadily speeding towards Edinburgh, the tension between the two of them seems to SWELL. He is familiar with the expression the elefant in the room, but has anyone ever considered the effect of an elefant in a Bentley? One isn't simply confined to a tight space, but properly CRUSHED by its presence.

There are a million things that he wants to tell Crowley, and perhaps this is a good time after all. His companion can't exactly walk away while they are going 100 miles an hour on the highway. That should give him some additional time to manouver through the tricky bits.

"Nothing quite as pressing as the news of our...companion," he assures, looking straight ahead, not quite able to face Crowley for the next part.

"I'm afraid I've rather made a mess of things."

With all his big words about saving everyone and doing the right thing, he feels like a joke sitting here like a beaten dog, swallowing thickly to avoid too much emotion being audible in his voice. Still convinced they couldn't simply DESTROY him and Crowley, The metatron had brought him upstairs for no other reason than to keep tabs on him. Thank someone Crowley had declined the offer.

crowley thought that was what he wanted to hear ... what would make him happy. and somehow it wasn't. voice was higher pitched with a combination of drunkenness and nerves. ❝ isn't that not what you lot want to be? ❞ lips pressed into a tight line as he fought the air rising and threatening to cause a burp at the most inopportune time. he takes a deep swig of the glass he still held, knowing he'd need a bit more strength for what was to come.

head turns to finally look upon the other's face. he let out a long, drawn out groan at the disappointment that he now saw befell the angel, but he played it off as frustration at having to explain himself further. ❝ i mean — it's a bit beyond me to understand the, the, erm, conventions of human attractiveness. but, if i had to guess, ❞ he trails off golden eyes sweeping over the face of the other and down only partway before quickly averting. ❝ your eyes. the shade of blue that they are : it's quite stunning actually. ❞ voice got smaller, ❝ i don't know if i've noticed it in this way. ❞ he found that he couldn't continue and altogether hushed after the last sentence.

what crowley was avoiding saying was that aziraphale's hands seemed warm and inviting. his figure was something that the demon found himself admiring from afar. where his own was harsh, bony, lightly muscled, the angel's was rosy, inherently larger muscled underneath a layer of softness that he fought not to imagine would be excellent to lie down with. but, amongst a million other reasons that they wouldn't be sharing a bed, aziraphale didn't sleep. not that he was a demon and an angel would never get into bed with him.

"Not that it matters!" he adds quickly, and yet, he can't seem to stop talking like it does, "It's not like I need to tempt them - it suffices to project a sort of...comfortable feeling in my line of work."

Would it be possible to discorporate on the spot? For once, it almost seemed worth the paperwork.

He shouldn't have read so much into a drunken remark. Watching the Crowley stumble over his words in an attempt not to trample on his feelings isn't doing much for his pride, and he wishes he had just pretended not to hear him at all. Besides, it's DANGEROUS to let his guard slip like that - to entertain the idea that the demon might find him attractive. But the seeds for such thoughts had been planted centuries ago, and it was getting increasingly difficult to hide his desire for Crowley's approval - his attention - from both himself and the demon.

Aziraphale briefly considers sobering up and calling it a night, but quickly decides he doesn't particularly want to be sober right now. It would only serve to make him feel worse. He pushes himself up so he can reach the last bottle of wine they had brought out with them, scans the lawn in search of the cristal glasses that had accompanied them outside. Finding them knocked over next to the blanket they were laying on, the angel decides it's not worth the miracle and takes a few sips straight from the bottle before passing it to Crowley.

He does show the restraint not to repeat his whispered confession, aware that it was entirely too forward, and entirely too revealing, and that it would most likely just make his companion very uncomfortable.

"Never mind - I was being silly."

❝ my thoughts exactly. ❞ he didn't think that either of the other couple had the capacity to care all that much for humans or the world they inhabited. at least nothing like they, who did all in their power to stop the armageddon, did. but clearly, they had found something within edinburgh ( if they were indeed there like crowley thought ) that was worth staying around for.

crowley had eyed the slow down moments before the other had noticed it. ❝ oh hell, ❞ spoken as he shifted in his seat to try and peer over the tops of cars ahead of him. ❝ where there's a will — you might want to hang on tight. ❞ a hand reaches and strokes the dashboard of the bentley lovingly. teeth clench and words come through them barely. ❝ you will hold yourself together, girl. ❞ they are a threat as much as a promise.

both hands on the wheel now, right foot bearing down hard as he swerves into the guard rail. the metal breaks in two under the sheer force of his willpower and the bentley's strong front bumper. the car fishtails a bit in the grassy median before he gets it under control. as they pass the source of the slow down, crowley's eyebrows ride high on his forehead. he yanks his sunglasses off, staring hard in astonishment. and then suspicion.

there were thick cottony clouds being split open wide with intense rays of sunlight. it blinded every driver in its search for what crowley only assumed was the angel sitting next to him. they had narrowly avoided the beams which would likely have discorporated their current bodies and sucked them straight up into heaven, where they both would die after a brief confrontation. there wouldn't even be a trial. the bentley is doing the driving now as his head whips to aziraphale, leaning closer into the angel's personal space.

The metal of the guard rail made a horrifying noise as it broke, and then they were swerving down a grassy slope and for a moment he was certain the car was going to CRASH. His hand shot out, grabbing onto Crowley's leg, both to steady himself and to keep his companion from being catapulted forward should they meet with a barier too solid to be manipulated through sheer willpower.

Even from the sidelines, the beams cutting through the thick white fog created a blinding light, and yet it proved impossible to look away. So they had noticed. They were acting much faster than Aziraphale had expected them to, and, not for the first time, he was questioning his decision.

It took Crowley's attention shifting to him for him to snap out of it, quickly withdrawing the hand that still had a death grip on the demon's leg. The intensity of his stare had him shrink back in his seat, his hand darting back into his coat pocket to assure it's still there even before his companion voiced his suspicions and demands and explanation.

For a few seconds, it appeared none was forthcomming, then, he slowly pulled out the vial, holding it carefully in his opened palm for Crowley to see.