lunchbreaks: (wishing she had never left at all)
ଘ 𝕒𝕫𝕚𝕣𝕒𝕡𝕙𝕒𝕝𝕖 ([personal profile] lunchbreaks) wrote2019-07-18 09:30 pm
Entry tags:

rp with me!

openpost
shoot me a starter, a pm, or a plurk\@assemble
sauntered_downward: (Default)

[personal profile] sauntered_downward 2019-07-22 12:09 am (UTC)(link)
"No, of course not," Crowley says. "You're too good."

In a way, Crowley is almost grateful to be hurt. With Aziraphale focused on him, focused on helping him, he's not focused on their plight, on what's happened to the world. It's just this, for a few moments. It's just the wound and Crowley and taking care of him. And while it's embarrassing to be the one to be taken care of, it's worth it to give Aziraphale that reprieve.

"I had thought to be a bit more dramatic after all of this," he says. "Post a few victory photos to Instagram. Not---" He takes the soap and winces as he touches the wound. "---clean something like this out."
sauntered_downward: (Default)

[personal profile] sauntered_downward 2019-07-22 12:33 am (UTC)(link)
Crowley scrubs out the wound, which has lost its rancid smell for the smell of his body wash and some water. It's hardly the best, but it's much better than before. He remembers the days where the best sort of cleanliness they got was mud and a bit of water to rinse it off with, so this is really a vast improvement. Many of the demons in hell still prescribe to that sort of cleaning schedule.

He gestures to the cabinet by Aziraphale. "There are bandages in there," he says. "We can wrap it, it'll heal up. Probably take a bit longer than a normal wound might because of----"

Because of the angelic blessing, really, but he doesn't know how far the curse would have spread without it. It blisters in the circle around where Aziraphale cut into him.

"But it'll heal."
sauntered_downward: (armageddon yes)

[personal profile] sauntered_downward 2019-07-22 12:45 am (UTC)(link)
"Which prophecy?" Crowley says. "Oh---Oh, right, the one you said. Mind your faces."

He applies the burn cream to his leg and it stings, but then it feels cooling. He begins to wrap the wound slowly. It's not perfect, Crowley is no healer by any stretch of the imagination, but he can tend himself all right.

"I'm not sending you into Hell," he says, firmly. "It's----not like what you're expecting, and I wouldn't want to put you through it."

He doesn't want to imagine what they'd do to him, but he thinks that boiling lava and beating with crowbars wouldn't be out of the question.
sauntered_downward: (armageddon yes)

[personal profile] sauntered_downward 2019-07-22 06:17 am (UTC)(link)
"Then I won't let them take you," Crowley says. He sees Aziraphale's vulnerability and wants to make him not fear it. He wants to show him that he can protect him, that he can stop this. Of course, he couldn't exactly stop the apocalypse itself, could he? Aziraphale led the armies that stopped all of this from continuing.

Aziraphale's idea could be a smart one. An angel in Hell could do a lot of damage, especially if they weren't expecting it. But an angel in Hell could also be hurt very badly very, very fast. Crowley keeps thinking if he can just keep Aziraphale safe, keep him from getting caught at all----well, then it won't matter, will it?

"We can stop them," he says. "We have the whole human race on our side. They can't defeat all of them."
sauntered_downward: (omg please)

[personal profile] sauntered_downward 2019-07-23 12:02 am (UTC)(link)
"No, don't," Crowley says, shaking his head. "You know I can't say no when you look like that." That's the face that got Hamlet its audience, that got several whores new lives in Rome, and got a lot of other nonsense tasks completed by Crowley over the centuries. Crowley has always thought that it's for the best that Aziraphale isn't a demon, because with a power like that face, he could have made a lot of temptations really, really easy.

Crowley tilts his head, leaning it a bit into where Aziraphale is touching his cheek. "Oh, all right----but you're not going in there. We'll just...swap places for a bit, whenever we're out in public. If they come for us, we'll be each other. I'll ward up the flat, we can be ourselves here."
sauntered_downward: (it burned down)

[personal profile] sauntered_downward 2019-07-23 12:33 am (UTC)(link)
Crowley watches this and lets out a sigh. "They're going to eat you alive in Hell. Possibly literally. You have to---you know, act like you actually don't care. Except about your clothes, because if you're wearing my clothes I do care what happens to those."

He doesn't even care one iota about his clothing, but entirely about the angel inside of them. If something terrible were to happen to Aziraphale, especially if they thought they were doing it to Crowley, that would be worse than just dying.

"If they attack you, they'd be breaking the truce, they have to know that," he says. He lets out another breath. "Which they might want, because they didn't get a definitive victory."
sauntered_downward: (hmmm?)

[personal profile] sauntered_downward 2019-07-23 12:49 am (UTC)(link)
"We're on the humans side," Crowley says. "They can't keep thinking this is only about them forever."

Aziraphale fusses, and Crowley lounges back in the tub, letting him have at it. It's a fairly large tub, actually, though he can't remember the last time he used it as an actual tub. Showers, mostly. Just to clean himself off, make sure he was prepared and perfect for the day. But he had it. There was a lot on this flat he had that he never used. That kitchen, his bed, his nice couch. Never really thought about it until now.

"We could confront them," he suggests. "Together. Swap faces, like you said. And go in, demand the humans have rights for the truce."
sauntered_downward: (You're my best friend)

[personal profile] sauntered_downward 2019-07-23 01:05 am (UTC)(link)
"Maybe," Crowley says. "But we will be stronger together. It's better than being alone."

Maybe they won't know what to do with them. Maybe Aziraphale and Crowley can work together to keep them down. He doesn't know. All he knows is that he can't stand the idea of sending the angel into Hell alone. Not after watching him fight, not after holding him here in this flat. If they had avoided the War entirely, he might have been able to handle some secret mission off to Heaven alone, but not now.

He sits up, reaching out to take the angel's hands.

"We've beaten them once. We had nothing then, and we beat them, remember? This time, we've got tricks they don't know about."
sauntered_downward: (armageddon yes)

[personal profile] sauntered_downward 2019-07-23 01:26 am (UTC)(link)
"We'll go tomorrow," Crowley says. "We just survived a War, today, angel, I think we deserve a few minutes rest."

By 'we', he means Aziraphale. He can't just throw him back into the clutches of the angels that fast. They only just got out of there. He's also not so keen to see Beezelbub having just destroyed one of their Dukes. And there is always the possibility---however unlikely---that Hastur survived the raincloud. Crowley would avoid that for a lifetime if he could. He can't, but he would if he could.

He shifts himself, trying to stand out of the tub. "Come on, time I actually see what that bed is like."
sauntered_downward: (wing)

[personal profile] sauntered_downward 2019-07-23 01:56 am (UTC)(link)
Of course Aziraphale cares about the wounded and the dying. Crowley cares----really, he does---but right now he really, truly cares about the angel in front of him. His number one, top most important priority.

He concentrates. Miracles aren't something that demons are good at, but Crowley has been able to perform more than a few since meeting the angel. He thinks about the people in the battlefield around them, the ones that Aziraphale was going to help, he thinks about all of the injured. And he focuses.

"They'll make it through the night," he says, and there's a level of certainty to his voice. He can't have Aziraphale sacrificing any of himself today. Not one shred more.

Crowley shuffles the blankets out of the way and drops, gingerly, onto the bed.
sauntered_downward: (Default)

[personal profile] sauntered_downward 2019-07-23 02:20 am (UTC)(link)
"Only if you rest, too," Crowley says. He slips off his sunglasses and tosses them carelessly on the side table.

He looks over at Aziraphale, and he gives his hand a squeeze with his own. He's tired. More than tired. War, then a curse, then a miracle? Crowley doesn't sleep, not really, but right now he could. He could really sleep, properly sleep.

"And I don't mean the kind of rest where you're just worrying about everything rest," he says. "I mean rest."
sauntered_downward: (to the world)

[personal profile] sauntered_downward 2019-07-23 02:32 am (UTC)(link)
"Yeah, come on though, the bed's big enough for two, you can sit here," Crowley says, gesturing to the spot next to him. The bed is actually ridiculously large, because Crowley bought the most expensive one at the time, simply due to price. "Can't speak on the comfort, though, it's my first time on this mattress. Sales said it was comfortable. Seems all right."

He, personally, thinks Aziraphale should try sleeping. But, perhaps the angel simply doesn't sleep. Many occult---or whatever it was Aziraphale said angels were---being simply don't. But Crowley would, if he were Aziraphale. And Crowley will, being Crowley in this exact moment.
sauntered_downward: (to the world)

[personal profile] sauntered_downward 2019-07-23 03:04 am (UTC)(link)
Aziraphale is positively adorable. Crowley lounges back as he lays there, watching the angel sit, all but cross-armed in the bed next to him. The very picture of someone who never rests, never relaxes. Crowley wouldn't want him to change, not for the whole universe.

He wants to watch him forever, but he can't. He can't even really keep his eyes open for very long. He leans into his pillow and his eyes slowly close. He lets himself sleep, eventually throwing an arm around the angel as he dreams.

It's not snuggling, because Crowley Does. Not. Snuggle. It's more like...leaning on aggressively while sleeping.

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omg A++

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