lunchbreaks | rp with me!

"You're the expert, angel," Crowley says, keeping his tone light, a smile tugging faintly at his lips.

This is going to be a very nice holiday. He'll get to watch Aziraphale eat who knows how many times? And they'll drink some great sake. See things together. Maybe Aziraphale will take his arm as they stroll through Japanese gardens, enjoying the plant life...

"You sure you want me along, I mean we've been seeing a lot of each other lately, you're... not getting tired of me or anything..."

He sort of trails off on a mutter, as he recalls his rather desperate attempts to get Aziraphale to run away with him, before. Now he wants to go on holiday together? He probably shouldn't be looking this gift horse in the mouth.

Aziraphale senses the hesitation in Crowley's voice and he puts his toast down, as well as his tea, and wipes his fingers off on the napkin. After that, he reaches out and takes one of Crowley's hands in both of his own.

"My dear Crowley, whatever gave you that impression?" he asks, honestly concerned that he'd somehow managed to offend Crowley or something. He knows he's always been the one to chase Crowley out of his bookshop at the end of the night, but that was always because - well, it wasn't proper, to have him stay so long. What if Heaven had found out?

And then they did, and it hardly mattered anymore.

"Nothing," Crowley says immediately. "You haven't done anything wrong, promise. Just..."

He reaches for something that is the truth, if not the whole truth, then at least some part of it.

"I guess I'm just... expecting there to be a catch, somewhere," he points out. "And, well... the bloke, you're not angry about that whole thing, right?"

Ugh, he's terrible at this.

Aziraphale blinks. "Why in the world would there be a catch-- What do you mean-- which bloke?" he asks, completely having forgotten al about George from this morning. In fact, if he had to come up with any men in recent memory having to do with Crowley, he'd--

--Oh, right. Right, George.

"Heavens Crowley, why would I be upset over who you choose to take to bed? I think it's quite sweet he's obviously taken a liking to you, naturally that you don't feel the same I wish you had come out to chase him off earlier, but I can hardly blame you when you'd communicated to him, or him for trying."

"Uh..."

Crowley scrunches up his face a bit as he tries to work out a response to that. How does he feel about this? Relieved? A little, sure. Also, perhaps, a bit disappointed? He's got to admit, he might've hoped for a slightly more... extreme reaction from the angel upon finding he'd taken a human to bed. If not jealousy, then... what?

He's absolutely ridiculous, even for a demon. Just... a complete and utter failure.

"Forget I said anything," he says finally, waving a vague hand. "Guess I'm just... used to there being a catch. Not having Hell breathing down my neck all the time is taking some getting used to."

"Crowley," Aziraphale says, in a way that sounds equal parts disappointed and equal parts completely done. "I wasn't really upset because he was naked, you know, though I think it is a bit odd, I swear you have the largest windows in London. But George is hardly the first human I've seen without clothes on, and I assure you my delicate angel sensibilities aren't harmed."

He picks at his food. Hadn't Crowley remembered how Roman baths were part of socializing? If Aziraphale had ever had problems with nudity at the time, he sure wouldn't have afterward.

That's what all this is about, right?

Crowley blinks in surprise at the angel. "I didn't think you were. Why would you care about a naked human?"

Except that he was in my bed, his mind supplies.

"Like I said, forget it."

"What?" Aziraphale asks, not forgetting it. "Well, then why would I be upset?"

"No, no, not why would I be upset. Why do you think I would be upset at finding one of your paramours in the kitchen?"

People around them are starting to eavesdrop, and sending hushed texts to each other.

Oh, this is not going to a place he wants to go. He desperately wants to get off this metaphorical train.

"Well... I mean... because it's... I dunno, you don't like knowing I'm messing about with humans? Fornicating?"

Grasping at straws, here.

Aziraphale looks at Crowley like he's grown two heads. "What? Why would I-- you expected me to think you hadn't in six thousand years?" he asks, hushed so no one can hear. In fact, miraculously there's quite a bit of buzzing, as he's noticed people starting to gossip.

"It is really absolutely none of my business who you bed, my dear, after all, you are a demon. I imagine it can't be work all the time."

That miracle was a good idea, because Crowley is now looking a little offended.

"Wha - what sort of demon d'you think I am? I - I don't -"

What? He doesn't what? He doesn't sleep with humans that often? That's true enough. He's only done it a handful of times. And never for work.

"You don't... tempt humans into bed?" He had just assumed that, as part of their arrangement, he never pushed any of those temptations Aziraphale's way.

"Well, my mistake then. I just thought, you know... every other sin is fair game."

Well, this was shaping up to be awkward. "But that's-- that's better. Fair, I suppose."

"No, I don't!" Crowley looks affronted. "I tempt them into sleeping with each other, sometimes, but I don't tempt them into sleeping with me."

That almost stings a little. Sure, he'd had a bloke over last night, but that was the first time in ages!

"Are you saying you've been assuming all these centuries that I... what, slept my way around the world?"

"Not around the world, no. But certainly a fair few times, you know. We are six thousand."

"And I hardly thought you'd need to do any actual tempting anyway, besides normal human seduction, it's not like I thought you'd ever coerce anyone to do anything. You much prefer giving them the choice and guiding them to the option, anyway, I didn't think you'd done anything... untoward. Or unfair."

"Not very many times," Crowley admits, unable to keep his ears from burning red.

"I usually have... better things to do, that's all."

"Oh," he replies. "Well," he says, after a pause, "that's not a terrible thing. I mean-- it wouldn't, if-- it's fine, Crowley."

"It's none of my business, either way. Honestly."

Crowley winces, focusing on his mimosa, knowing what he's about to say and terrified of it, but unable to quite stop himself, all the same.

"It's not?"

Six thousand years. He's done everything but spell it out for the angel. Maybe he didn't do that because he was afraid - afraid of what the answer would be.

"Heavens, no." He blinks like an owl. "You-- you wouldn't judge any of my affairs, and I've got no right to any of yours," he responds.

He feels like they must've gone off the wrong page somewhere, but he can't quite place where exactly that is.

He shakes his head. "What's this about, Crowley?"

“No, I - don’t judge you,” Crowley says quietly. He swallows, still avoiding eye contact with the angel.

“Jealous, though, a bit, when you find one you like,” he adds. Well, there it is.

"Oh!" he says, and looks genuinely surprised. But then - he doesn't know why. Aziraphale would have lovers - and they were lovers, he couldn't stop loving if he tried. But they lasted for five years, ten years, never long enough for them to become suspicious of why he never aged.

So he loved them even though he knew he would outlive them, and so, always made sure he was able to let them go.

He has never been able to let Crowley go, as much as he'd tried to banish him from his innermost thoughts, from the deepest part of his heart. Right now, he doesn't know if he's ready for this conversation.

But he bites his lip and considers that he is not a coward.

"You don't... have to be jealous, Crowley," he says, finally. He takes Crowley's hand, and gives it a squeeze. "Would you... like me to be jealous of George? Because I must say, it would absolutely be no competition, I think, should I have to best him in any contest."

"No - " Crowley scowls a bit, at their hands, and pulls his away after a moment, for the first time. He doesn't want it like this.

"I don't want you to be jealous. And I don't want you feeling sorry for me, either. I shouldn't have said anything."

Aziraphale frowns when Crowley takes his hand away. "Alright," he says. "But what do you want?" he asks, because this is a lot of things he doesn't want and none of the things he does, and Aziraphale thinks it might help to just sit him down and ask directly.

Crowley blinks at the angel, taken aback. He's pretty sure no one has ever asked him what he wants, before. Has he ever really considered it? Not much. Not seriously, anyway.

"I -"

He swallows even though he doesn't need to. His throat feels suddenly tight, for some reason.

"You," he says quietly. "I mean... I want to do things with you. Anything. Go on holiday, or stay right here, doesn't matter. Just want to do it with you."

Aziraphale's face softens, and he reaches out for Crowley's hand again, drawing it close to him, placing it over his heart.

"Crowley, my dear, I wish you had just said so earlier. I do want to spend my time with you." He smiles, so fondly. "I..."

He should just say it, just tell him. The words he's been sitting on for so long.

"...Want to go on that holiday with you."

He's a coward.

“Right. Good. Just... making sure,” Crowley says after a moment. He’s relieved, all things considered. That’s the closest he’s come in decades, at least, to thoroughly spilling his guts to the angel. The last time he made any kind of move in that direction, Aziraphale had bolted and he hadn’t seen him for several years after. This is progress, all things considered. Not only is he not running fast in the other direction, but he’s sticking around. They’re planning a holiday together.

“It’ll be fun, won’t it?” he offers, to lighten the tone. Ease the tension.

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