lunchbreaks | rp with me!

"Don't get too sloppy, angel," Crowley says with a faint smile at him. "We can always have more, back at... your shop."

He's not sure Aziraphale would want to be hanging around in his flat, especially after this morning.

"Or just sober up later." He brushes a thumb over Crowley's hand. "Perhaps we should talk. We do have... things to discuss. Yes, best we finish this quickly," he says resolutely.

He has no idea that "we should talk" sounds scary, he just wants the two of them to find themselves in agreement again.

"We do?" Crowley asks, raising his eyebrows. "I can get us the plane tickets if that's what you mean..."

"Oh, well. Yes. I would like to discuss our trip," he says. "Would be nice to plan out. Can we fly first class? I haven't flown in so long..."

"Oh, we're definitely flying first class," Crowley says. "I once gave an airline CEO the idea of squeezing another couple of seats in coach to make a bit extra money and they've taken it way too far, as usual."

"That was you? Crowley!" he exclaims. But he can't really be mad.

Alright, he'll finish up his food, quicker than usual, and ask for the bill.

"Wasn't! I told you they took it too far!" They always take things much farther than Crowley intends or anticipates, really. That's humans for you.

He offers the angel his arm once they're outside. "Your place?" he suggests.

"Yes," he responds, taking Crowley's arm. "My place. And--" He doesn't know how to tell him this, so he just worries the inside of his lip and leans up to press a quick kiss to Crowley's cheek. It's perfectly acceptable to do in this situation, he thinks, and mostly he just wants to let him know he's received the message and they should talk further.

Perhaps just not in public.

They've kissed each other on the cheek before, of course. There've been various times and places in human history when that was just how one greeted one's friends, so it's not a new thing.

It just leaves Crowley tingling a little, that's all.

He's not going to press the angel further. Why should he? They're here, together, arm in arm, on their way to the bookshop for more companionship and probably wine. No fear of retribution, either. The only thing pushing would do is put him in danger of pushing the angel away.

So he doesn't say much as they walk, just comments vaguely on the weather or something - incidental conversation that they can have without really thinking about it or getting invested. Just enjoying each other's company.

Aziraphale likes this better, anyway: they can just be themselves, like they always had, but perhaps with a little more by way of kissing and Aziraphale leaning his head on Crowley's shoulder as they walk.

Yes, they get back to the bookshop without incident, but somehow Aziraphale is feeling happier and lighter than usual, practically bubbly. He curls an arm around Crowley's waist as they step over the threshold.

The arm around his waist is a bit new, Crowley has to admit. He glances at Aziraphale for a moment as they stand inside the shop.

"Angel..." He trails off, a question on his face that he can't find the words for. "More wine?" he finally suggests, trying to push all the other things away. They've already had a few. Maybe that's what has Aziraphale being so affectionate.

"Yes, please." Crowley is the only person he'd trust to serve him his own wine in his own shop. But as soon as they get in, he reaches for Crowley's hand, and gives it a squeeze.

"Is this alright, dear?" he asks.

Crowley pauses, brows furrowing.

"The answer is probably 'yes' but you might need to explain exactly what this is," he points out. What, exactly, is the angel talking about here?

"This, I mean. Holding your hand, leaning on your shoulder. We never did... discuss it."

There's a lot of things they haven't discussed in the last 6000 years that they ought to have.

Crowley glances down at the angel's arm around him, glad he's still wearing his sunglasses.

"Yeah, well, I figured even if you wanted to, you'd. Be afraid," he says after a moment. "Or I'd be going too fast."

"I was," he answers. "And we were." But then he takes Crowley's hand and stands close. "But they can't touch us anymore. I'm sorry if I worried you," he says, voice lowering.

“You didn’t,” Crowley says immediately, wanting to reassure, and then he looks a little sheepish.

“I just mean... I mean, having you - however you like - it doesn’t matter, as long as you’re. Around me. As long as you’re willing.”

Aziraphale is, after all, his only friend. The friend he’s been in love with for at least a couple of millennia. That bit will never change.

rp with me!

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