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Fic Post!
Fic! Well, to be fair, it's more of a drabble/flopsy. Around 500 words.
Aziraphale did not turn as Crowley approached, paying attention only to the small duck that was tugging gently on his trouser leg.
“I have nothing for you, dear,” he said softly, holding out his empty palms. The duck quacked reproachfully at him and waddled off to bother some other poor person.
“Hello, angel,” said Crowley. Aziraphale’s shoulders tensed, but he still did not turn.
“Hello, Crowley. What brings you here?” Crowley bit back a sharp retort, stung by the frosty, distant quality of the angel’s voice.
“I apologized, Aziraphale. What more do you want from me?”
“Something I’m sure you can’t give me.”
Crowley’s eyes narrowed behind his designer sun glasses. “And what’s that?”
“Sincerity, Crowley. Don’t pretend to be shocked or innocent; it doesn’t suit you,” he said, meeting the stunned demon’s eyes with the closest thing to true anger that Crowley had seen since sixteen sixty-six.
“I don’t believe you, Aziraphale. I really don’t.” Crowley rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to ignore the telling ache in his throat. “Of all the things over the years for me to lie about, you think this is it? Are you really that stupid?”
“You are a demon, Crowley—a fact that you revel in daily. Do you honestly think that your...declaration,” Aziraphale said with as much venom as he could muster, which, to Crowley’s surprise, was quite a lot, “would be met with no suspicion?”
“I had hoped—foolishly, it looks like—that our history might inspire a bit of confidence. We stopped Armageddon, angel,” he said fiercely. “I was willing to fight hell with you! Is that nothing?”
“That’s different!” Aziraphale blurted.
“Oh, really? So, you’d entrust your soul to me, you’d die with me, but you won’t believe that I love you? Tell me how that makes sense!”
The angel cringed, fists curling at his side. “Stop saying that.”
Crowley chuckled bitterly. “Why? Ssscared you might like it a little too much, angel?” he hissed, feeling better for lashing out. “Assshamed that you might feel the sssame?”
Aziraphale’s eyes were closed as if he was trying to block out the sound of Crowley’s voice by pure will and he didn’t respond. There was a moment of shocked silence. Then a slow, sharp smile stole over Crowley’s face and his eyes gleamed as he stepped into the angel’s space.
“That’s it, isn’t it? You want this.” He let his fingers brush the air over Aziraphale’s jaw and watched with delight as the angel shivered. “You want me.”
“I might Fall, Crowley. Don’t you care?” said Aziraphale, barely audible over the sound of his rough breathing. Crowley could barely contain his glee.
“You couldn’t possibly fall, angel. You enjoy small fuzzy animals and giving to charity. You think tartan is stylish. You wouldn’t last three seconds Down There.”
Aziraphale chuckled, breath hitching on a gasp when Crowley’s fingers rested happily on his hip. “Don’t you tempt me, you old serpent.”
“You like it,” Crowley said, smirking, a second before he leaned in and kissed his angel square on this lips.
Aziraphale did not turn as Crowley approached, paying attention only to the small duck that was tugging gently on his trouser leg.
“I have nothing for you, dear,” he said softly, holding out his empty palms. The duck quacked reproachfully at him and waddled off to bother some other poor person.
“Hello, angel,” said Crowley. Aziraphale’s shoulders tensed, but he still did not turn.
“Hello, Crowley. What brings you here?” Crowley bit back a sharp retort, stung by the frosty, distant quality of the angel’s voice.
“I apologized, Aziraphale. What more do you want from me?”
“Something I’m sure you can’t give me.”
Crowley’s eyes narrowed behind his designer sun glasses. “And what’s that?”
“Sincerity, Crowley. Don’t pretend to be shocked or innocent; it doesn’t suit you,” he said, meeting the stunned demon’s eyes with the closest thing to true anger that Crowley had seen since sixteen sixty-six.
“I don’t believe you, Aziraphale. I really don’t.” Crowley rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to ignore the telling ache in his throat. “Of all the things over the years for me to lie about, you think this is it? Are you really that stupid?”
“You are a demon, Crowley—a fact that you revel in daily. Do you honestly think that your...declaration,” Aziraphale said with as much venom as he could muster, which, to Crowley’s surprise, was quite a lot, “would be met with no suspicion?”
“I had hoped—foolishly, it looks like—that our history might inspire a bit of confidence. We stopped Armageddon, angel,” he said fiercely. “I was willing to fight hell with you! Is that nothing?”
“That’s different!” Aziraphale blurted.
“Oh, really? So, you’d entrust your soul to me, you’d die with me, but you won’t believe that I love you? Tell me how that makes sense!”
The angel cringed, fists curling at his side. “Stop saying that.”
Crowley chuckled bitterly. “Why? Ssscared you might like it a little too much, angel?” he hissed, feeling better for lashing out. “Assshamed that you might feel the sssame?”
Aziraphale’s eyes were closed as if he was trying to block out the sound of Crowley’s voice by pure will and he didn’t respond. There was a moment of shocked silence. Then a slow, sharp smile stole over Crowley’s face and his eyes gleamed as he stepped into the angel’s space.
“That’s it, isn’t it? You want this.” He let his fingers brush the air over Aziraphale’s jaw and watched with delight as the angel shivered. “You want me.”
“I might Fall, Crowley. Don’t you care?” said Aziraphale, barely audible over the sound of his rough breathing. Crowley could barely contain his glee.
“You couldn’t possibly fall, angel. You enjoy small fuzzy animals and giving to charity. You think tartan is stylish. You wouldn’t last three seconds Down There.”
Aziraphale chuckled, breath hitching on a gasp when Crowley’s fingers rested happily on his hip. “Don’t you tempt me, you old serpent.”
“You like it,” Crowley said, smirking, a second before he leaned in and kissed his angel square on this lips.