#angelshiraeth

[ncverasked]

" --- what kind of question's that, angel? " Do you love me? It'd been asked so matter-of-factly. Had the desperate, impassioned plea six months ago not been enough to convince Aziraphale? Had the way they'd almost slipped back into old habits - the way Crowley has almost forgiven them?

What more could they do?

" I-- why'd you want to bring that up again? I told you already-- " Yes.

@angelshiraeth

[ncverasked]

[ 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 ] ― sender asks receiver for a dance upon hearing a song

Angels don't dance. So when Aziraphale asks him to dance; Crowley is pleasantly surprised and it shows. in the way his brows raise just a smidgen, in the way his yellow, snake-like eyes light up ( which, unfortunately is hidden by behind shaded lenses ). In the way his lips twitch upwards as he takes a step forward, crossing the familiar boards to stand in front of the angel.

He seems to hesitate a moment, which he plays off as adjusting his jacket. Once he's done, he makes a flourish and bows, extending a hand. The charming gesture is paired with a mischievous glint in the demon's eyes. A tease follows;

" Careful, angel. Wouldn't want them getting any ideas "

[kemuele]

❛ well, i do feel better now that you're here. ❜

Dialogue Prompts- [Accepting]

❛ well, i do feel better now that you're here. ❜

"Is that so? I am glad to hear it," he murmurs warmly, leaning forward on the park bench. Kemuel clasps his hands together and brushes a thumb along the side of his palm. Eyes flicker from the small picnic further out to Aziraphale himself. The angel smiles over, head tilting gently to the right. "When words fail, physical company prevails. It is something many need, in the end, regardless of being human or celestial. It takes very little time to get here," he says in that same tone.

"Please, should you wish for company again, say my name and I will be there."

@angelshiraeth

[kemuele]

❛ here, give this a try and tell me what you think. ❜

Dialogue Prompts- [Accepting]

❛ here, give this a try and tell me what you think. ❜

Trying is a part of life, broadening horizons, and ultimately furthering understanding of the universe. For someone who has lived so many lives and more, seen the very universe be created, leaves learning to be...challenging. How much does he already know? How much does he not?

Perhaps his fascination with humanity leaves Kemuel in the kind graces of their rapidly-evolving and expanding cultures. So many niches to be had that, even for someone as old as he, there is always one more thing to learn. With Aziraphale's assistance, learning comes in the form of crepes.

Crepes.

Kemuel takes a slice of the paper-thin treat and gives a contemplative chew. "Is this a very popular dish? The fruit give it a nice sweetness but it is..." How does he say it? "...rather peculiar."

@angelshiraeth

[ncverasked]

( STARE ) longingly staring at mine from across the room.

He feels them before he sees them. Aziraphale's eyes are on him and it's a look he likes on the angel. His angel. He keeps his smile hidden as he walks about the bookshop - his home - curling his around one book to set it aside in some attempt to play unawares. He's anything but that, though, and the little sway of denim-clad hips are a tell-tale sign he's going to tease Aziraphale as much as he can. He does. Little glances. Lips are licked. He wants to tempt his favourite idiot.

When he's sure it's felt like an eternity to the other, Crowley finally meets the other's gaze and matches it. You bet he's going to be a devilish bastard.

" Come here, tell me what's on your mind. "

[ncverasked]

❝ will you sleep with me? i know how that sounds i just mean— i feel safe when you’re there. ❞

" Oh -- " He knows exactly what it sounds like; but he also knows that Aziraphale isn't so forward as to ask him out-right for what it sounds like. Crowley's certain there'd be an elaborate gesture paired with flustered words - much like those that preface the sentiment that takes the wind from his lungs. The angel feels safe with him. It's everything Crowley's wanted - just for him to feel safe and happy. He won't say that outwardly, of course.

Thin lips curl up in a genuine smile as he removes his sunglasses and sets them on the bedside drawer. Turning to face Aziraphale, he takes a breath; realising just how little there is he wouldn't do for him; and nods slowly. Accepting.

"Just so you know - since we're doing this, you are so the little spoon. Also -- I need something that isn't jeans to sleep in. "

[ncverasked]

             He’s done it. He’s gone and told Aziraphale in so many fucking words that he’s in love with him. He’s kissed the angel - hard and hot and desperate - and isn’t sure he’ll ever forget the look he’d gotten. The words he’d heard. They’re seared into his mind and behind his serpentine eyes. His chest hurts from screaming. From releasing the pent-up hurt, devastation and rage.  His eyes ache with a tiredness new to him.  

           Nursing the flask in his hands, Crowley brings it to his lips.  He takes a swig and relishes in the momentary burn the whiskey offers - it’s a distraction from the hoarse, scratchy pain -  and lets his head fall back against the tiled wall with a thunk.  Eyes close behind shaded lenses when he hears the quiet foot-fall of another. He assumes it’s Muriel again. They’ve checked in a number of times and not once complained about the demon shouting at them to ‘fuck offf back to their pretty pearly gates like their new boss.’

            “  If you’re here to ask if i need help --- don’t. Just get out. I’m fine.  I don’t need anyone, least of all some....prissy angel. ”  Better off alone. Like always.