so about that phone call...

“Goodnight, angel.”

Crowley hung up the phone and slid off the desk he had been sitting on. A nap it was, then. He pointedly ignored the part of him that was severely disappointed at Aziraphale’s rejection as he strode into the bedroom. As much as they might be “on their own side” now, 6000 years of having to be cautious about each and every one of their interactions couldn’t be undone overnight.

Over the millennia they had known each other, Aziraphale almost never accepted Crowley’s invitations outright. It’s just how they did things– Crowley would persuade, and Aziraphale would eventually, begrudgingly accept. (The unspoken truth of this, of course, was that Aziraphale was never truly begrudging, and Crowley never had to do all that much persuading.)

Crowley paused, his fingers halfway to a snap that would change his clothes to pajamas. Perhaps that was just it. Maybe all Aziraphale needed was a little persuasion. More than that, maybe he expected Crowley to convince him…

Crowley was back at the phone and redialing the bookshop far quicker than he’d be willing to admit.

“I’m so sorry, I’m afraid we’re quite definitely closed at the moment–”

“Angel, it’s me.”

“Oh, Crowley! Hello, my dear. Is everything alright? I thought you were taking a nap?”

“I still might,” Crowley said, trying to maintain some air of nonchalance. “It’s just– well– I was thinking– you wouldn’t be breaking the rules, is the thing.”

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Based of @steveandbucky 's post

“You alright, there, Angel?” Crowley asked.

Aziraphale tore his eyes away from the clock which was ticking closer and closer towards the hour.

“Wha-? Oh! Oh, yes! Yes, of course! Absolutely tickety-boo!” He replied, a nervous smile briefly alighting on his face before flittering away again.

“‘Tickety-boo,’” Crowley parroted, carefully sounding out each syllable. “That doesn’t even mean anything.”

“What? Of course it does!” Aziraphale insisted, temporarily distracted from his internal fretting. “It means alright, tiptop, hunky-dory.”

“Hunky-dory?” Crowley said, amusement evident in his tone. “You definitely just made that one up.”

Aziraphale huffed in offense. “It’s more of a word than ‘wahoo.’”

Crowley narrowed his eyes, which were blessedly free of the dark shades he usually wore. It was just the two of them, after all. “You take that back.”

But Aziraphale’s attention had returned to the clock. The time was drawing nearer, and he found himself burning with both terror and exhilaration equally. He wanted to do it now, just take the leap and land on the other side. But, human tradition said to wait, so wait he would. It wasn’t much longer, anyway.

Ten. Nine.

The countdown had begun. He could hear Crowley trying to get his attention, but it was muffled and far away.

Eight. Seven.

His eyes remained fixated on the clock. How could the seconds be moving by so slowly? Had Crowley stopped time again?

Six. Five.

Now, here’s the thing about Aziraphale and swearing. Under most circumstances, he found it entirely crude and unnecessary, save for two certain special occasions. The first was, obviously, when one stepped into an active portal and found themselves inconveniently discorporated. The second was when one was finally taking the first step after six thousand years of waiting and found that time (a human construct, really) was entirely unwilling to cooperate.

Four.

“Oh, fuck it.”

At precisely three seconds before midnight, on the eve of a new year that they both had thought would never come to pass, Aziraphale pressed his lips to Crowley’s, cutting off the delighted noise the demon was making over hearing the angel swear for the first time.

This kiss was… Well, for perhaps the first time in his life, Aziraphale found himself unable to find the right words to describe it. ‘Tiptop’ was clearly insufficient, ‘tickety-boo’ didn’t even come close, ‘hunky-dory’ was right out. Strangely, and much to his chagrin, ‘wahoo’ seemed to be the only word his ecstatic brain could come up with.

Crowley was kissing him back, and Aziraphale could taste the love upon his lips, pure and sweet and so definitely there. It was everything he had hoped it would be. It was everything he never even knew he wanted.

At precisely six hundred and twenty-four seconds after midnight on New year’s Day, Aziraphale and Crowley pulled apart, finding themselves gasping for breaths that suddenly seemed so very necessary.

Crowley made a series of incomprehensible noises, his lips stretching into a wide grin.

Azirpahle nodded in understanding. “Quite right, dearest, very well said. I wholeheartedly agree.” And then he kissed Crowley again. And again. And again. Et cetera.

—lion heart (2000)

*translated from japanese by me

“You never see unicorns anymore,” Crawly grumbles, watching another collection of dusty donkeys trudge into town.

“Well, obviously not,” Aziraphale replies, rolling his eyes.

Crawly directs a frown at him.

“Obviously?” he repeats, eyebrows raised in a question.

“You were there, Crawly, you know perfectly well why not.”

Crawly blinks, which doesn’t happen very often.

“You’ve lost me.”

“The Ark?” Aziraphale tries, hoping to jog Crawly’s memory. “You remember, one of Noah’s ran off, they didn’t have time to find another before the rain started…”

Crawly frowns.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

Aziraphale peers at his face, looking for the trick, the joke, the setup. All he sees is honest confusion. It’s his turn to blink.

“Crawly,” he says, somewhere between disbelief and a rather unangelic delight, “you do know why he had two of everything, don’t you?”

Crawly shifts defensively in his seat.

“Assumed it was one of those daft instructions sent down from on high, you know, one Ark, two of each animal, three of each kind of fruit, whatever—”

Aziraphale starts to laugh. He can’t help himself. Crawly scowls at him and hunches his shoulders.

“What? What’s so funny, angel?”

Angel. Crawly called him that in Eden, before Aziraphale thought to give him his name. He doesn’t know why he’s doing it now. Perhaps it’s supposed to be an insult. It doesn’t really have a lot of bite to it, if so.

“You’ve really never— all right, all right, don’t look so cross, I’ll tell you, I’m just— surprised, that’s all.” Aziraphale takes a sip of the fermented beverage the humans in this village have invented. It’s got potential, he thinks. “It takes two of them to breed, Crawly. Male and female.”

Crawly stares at him so blankly that Aziraphale has to bite his lip against more laughter.

“Please tell me you’ve at least noticed the physiological differences between the sexes—”

“Yes, yes, I know about that,” Crawly interrupts. “And what they get up to with those bits. You mean they’re not just for leisure activities?”

“No, they’re rather fundamental to the whole reproduction thing, in fact. The, ah, recreational applications are just a side-effect.”

“What, really?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“But humans are always—”

“Well, that’s why there’s so many of them these days.”

Crawly looks absolutely dumbfounded by this revelation, and more than a little outraged.

“What about birds?” he demands. “They just lay eggs whenever they want to, don’t they?”

“I believe mating is still required beforehand.”

“What about fish?”

“I’m fairly certain that the same rule applies.”

Crawly stares into his clay cup, lips moving slightly as he tries to come to terms with this whole concept. His expression tilts suddenly into something that unexpectedly yanks on Aziraphale’s heartstrings.

“Oh,” he says quietly. “So no more unicorns, then.”

“No,” Aziraphale replies, no longer laughing.

“I’d have got it back for them, if I’d known,” Crawly mumbles.

Yes, Aziraphale thinks, surprised by his own certainty, you would have, wouldn’t you?

Crowley is the handsy one

Warning! Your snake’s cold! Wrap him up nice and warm in your coat or pop him in the microwave for 5 minutes at 100W to heat up to optimal temperature.

(i didn’t know what to draw today so have a blocky winter sketch)

love you’re not alone, ’cause i’m gonna stand by you

for @eunyisadoran

I have looked at you in million of ways and i have loved you in each. — ( insp )

A lesson in Subtlety 101™ from Professor Anthony J Crowley

So, I like it when the one person (I project onto lol)  gets hurts and the other person in the ship gets super big mad about it

😈😇😐.

The streets of town were paved with stars It was such a romantic affair And as we kissed and said goodnight A nightingale sang in Berkeley square

Here they are, safe from their trials. As they walk into the bookshop, they brush against each other. Crowley wants to put an arm around Aziraphale. Aziraphale wants to put his arm around Crowley. They have no reason not to, not anymore.

“Angel?” Crowley asks, looking over.

“Yes?”

And Crowley kisses him. It’s the simplest thing in the world, to be in love.

Inktober 2019 - Day 18