tampered | Log, Ongoing

Current Mood: surprised
Current Location: In Front of the Fountain

Log, Ongoing

When; Feb 15th,around 1 PM ish
Rating Um...I'm thinking G for now, but possible subject to change
Characters; Crowley

saunturing_down and Aziraphale

wingedly
Summary; Crowley's introduction to the city.
Log;

Crowley was pissed. Where in the Hell had the Angel disappeared to? It was bothering him like nothing else, which was much more than he would ever like to admit to in all of his immortal existance.

The this fallen angel, who had not exactly fallen but had rather sauntered vaugly downward, was worried. Of course, Crowley had never worried before, so the emotion was a strange and foreign object to him, and one that he did not like. So here he sat in Aziraphale's empty bookstore, glaring at the wall across from him from behind his sunglasses.

He pushed himself to his feet and brought a cigarette up to his mouth, the thing lighting instantly. He breathed in the smoke, closing his eyes for a moment before breathing out. He frowned, golden eyes opening as the sound of water reached his ears.

And the cigarette promptly dropped from his limp fingers at the sight that met his eyes. He was...standing infront of a fountain. What the---?

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This could very well have been perceived to be the oddest turn of events yet, especially due to the fact that a certain angel had lived a comfortably immortal existence for quite some time now and had apparently been through a great many things, to boot. Despite all that however, he had most assuredly never experienced harboring such a tormenting whirlwind of emotions to which he wasn’t precisely able to categorize and neatly place into assigned boxes within the human body he was occupying, as per usual. But to display these things to an old time colleague going on six thousand years was a most atrocious thing to do, being the ever mild and slightly apologetic angel that he was, trying as best he could to keep his brain from scrambling too many times over without anything left to go by. Heaven forbid, Aziraphale thought rather distractedly out of sheer habit when any subject turned to that of free will, a thing Upstairs had given to mankind and most assuredly not it’s own immortal race, which included himself.

Stretching out one wing delicately, the angel couldn’t help the wince that preceded such an action normally performed with great ease as about two feathers gently fell out of place from the rest and lay upon the cobblestone ground. Unable to properly admit to the fact that far too many things were troubling him at present to further his supposed molting habits, he carefully folded his wings back out of sight and headed dejectedly down the nearest pathway toward the fountains, pushing his unnecessary spectacles upward upon the bridge of his flushed nose. There, seemingly Aziraphale’s heart began to chant with each fluttering beat that it took at the sight to which greeted him not a foot or two away, snatching his ability to articulate thought and speech altogether, without any prior warning.

Once the angel finally reached the long missed demon, he opened his mouth then closed it again as if imitating a fish, and merely stared with a slight blush. "Ngh."

After the initial shock had worn off and the Angel had been contacted, Crowley had relaxed a bit and lit up another cigarette, and had currently had the thing sticking out of the side of his mouth when Aziraphale approached. He smirked around the stick of tobacco before pulling it out of his mouth, dropping it on the ground and putting it out with his foot.

He looked at the angel with yellow eyes over the top of his sunglasses.

"Hello, Angel." he drawled, an amused smirk curling the corner of his mouth.

Why did he seemingly feel a considerable degree warmer than he had just before? It was all awfully vexing to one who had never experienced these things before, and who could use a good tutor in how to go about even explaining them, let alone understanding what it all really meant. "Er—right, well. It’s lovely to see you again, Crowley." Taking a mental inventory of the whole occurrence at large, the angel began to notice that these unnatural rises of temperature that brought a noticeable blush to his cheeks happened to be caused by the way in which the demon smirked, though this was most difficult to comprehend since he’d witnessed that very action for a millennia. And those eyes—

Exhaling, which proved to be futile in the end since he’d never really needed to do such things with the body he inhabited beforehand, Aziraphale murmured a somewhat vague "shall we?" and indicated that they start walking to a more opportune place to speak, waving his hand about uselessly toward the left. Do tell, had he always proved to be so humiliatingly awkward when in the general vicinity of his dearest colleague? Moreover, when in Heaven’s name had he felt so on edge and without a guide book to explain to him the rules of the game?

Crowley merely raised an eyebrow at the flush on Aziraphale's cheeks. Hn. Now this was interesting. He glanced for a moment towards the sky at the sunny weather, then back to the angel. Well, he WOULD be hot wearing THAT in this weather.

And though he didn't verbaly return Aziraphale's sentiment, it was unconciously answered. He had missed the Angel's constant presense as well. Hell, you're around someone for that long, they grow on you.

He merely shrugged at Aziraphale's "shall we?" and feel into step with the Angel. After a moment of walking, he glanced over at Aziraphale, raising an eyebrow behind his sunglasses.

"You hot, angel?"

Now that was apparently the question, wasn’t it? Gulping, the angel clutched at the particularly warm tartan scarf that habitually adorned him at all times and exposed his pale neck with something between a groaned sigh, alleviating his problem only so much. "Indeed," he responded a bit breathlessly, though at least it hadn’t been anything related to a lie, for he did feel better just so long as he didn’t allow his bright cobalt gaze to wander on its own.

Deciding upon a better course of action while heading down the foreign street toward the building number five where the angel had already gotten a hold of an empty apartment, conveniently placed near the descendent of Eve more or less, he glanced down through his glasses at the unseen dirt upon his fingernails and put on the best look of a learned scholar, to date. "Don’t you recognize Lyra, my dear? Perhaps an apple would explain better than myself, if you follow." It was as if they had been interrupted in the middle of a long standing conversation the way the tone of the angel’s voice had shifted from considerably embarrassed to that of a teacher lecturing an unwilling student.

Cocking his head to the side briefly to catch a glance at his colleague, Aziraphale couldn’t help but smile pleasantly before continuing on his way, almost noticing the way his heart fluttered just slightly at the odd game they seemed to be playing, though the whole thing was utterly lost on him, at least for now.

Crowley's yellow eyes followed the line of that pale neck behind his sunglasses as the scarf was taken off. Much better. he thought to himself, a smirk causing him to flash one sharp canine. He did raise an eyebrow as Aziraphale's voice shifted into a more scholarly tone. Well, damn. He was enjoying this little game.

"It'd be hard not to recognize her. Dear little Eve come back to vissssssssit, then?" he drawled. However, his smirk faded slightly as the angel smiled at him.

Hell no. Hell, hell no!

Crowley cleared his throat for a second, before he forced himself back into neuturality. He followed the Angel through the building and over to room 38.

"Your place, angel?" he asked, an eyebrow raised above black sunglasses.

Seemingly, it was beyond all feasible control that a nearly unrecognizable expression crossed the angel’s mild face in a brief display of a pleased smirk at the strangled noise the demon at his side made after he offered the smile, half wondering what in Heaven’s name had gotten into the two of them now that they were reunited. "Yes—though, I do hope it isn’t too small for us. It’s taken an awfully long time to clean it up in such a brief space of time, what with the drapery and the color of the walls—" Unlocking the door with a complicated wave, yet again pushing the unnecessary pair of spectacles upward upon his blushing nose and allowed his colleague to enter first without a spare thought upon the matter, before following him inside.

A rather dismally chosen apartment at the very last minute in comparison to the upscale shack of temptation to which the demon had taken up residence back in their own world, it actually looked a great deal kinder than it had when the angel had first arrived only a day or so ago, without any possessions to speak of. Previously a shade of dull gray, the scholarly blonde had taken to altering the walls to a pale off-white along with the furniture to a light black—the assorted other ornaments being changed to a mix between that of reds and blues, depending on what room one happened to be standing within. To say the very least, he was rather proud of his accomplishments with interior design.

Coming to a stop behind the demon standing upon the threshold of the apartment in question, Aziraphale acted upon his own slightly more human emotions that were taking a hold of him quite often as of late and barely graced a hand upon Crowley’s shoulder before sliding his pale fingers upward, taking off the dark sunglasses that had covered his eyes, beforehand. "Do you like it?" Of course, the angel’s voice was all innocence due to the fact that he was referring to the room at large, but for some odd reasoning he had lent forward and breathed the question close to the demon’s ear, smiling mildly at the whole thing.

Game, indeed.

Crowley entered into the room, yellow eyes scanning. Well, he would say, the angel had done a pretty good job. Not to heavenly and pretty, but it wasn't doom and blackness, which would've made Aziraphale ansy anyway. He opened his mouth to reply when he felt the angel's fingers slide up his shoulder and up to his sunglasses removing him, and a question was breathed into his ear.

well, well, well.

He reached up, catching Aziraphale's hand that held the sunglasses in his own and holding on just tightly enough to keep the angel there as he turned, plucking the sunglasses from the angel's hand. He leaned in slightly, lips pulling into a smirk to flash one sharp canine as his look turned slightly predatory.

"Looksssssssss good, Az."

Game Start

Should he have been at all worried about the fact that their whole outlook upon each other appeared to be changing rapidly before they knew what was really going on, or simply allow the situation to proceed without any regard to how this may affect them in the future? Briefly pausing amidst all this with the glasses in hand, the angel felt as if he might truly be doing the wrong thing and it nearly terrified him into stopping at once, for he’d already been unable to erase the comment that Rosiel had made to him a while back about angels being sexless, which they were, however—

"Ah," now that was the sort of thing one couldn’t refuse, even if they didn’t wish to fall from grace with the greatest of wishes, for some things turned out to be more significant in one’s life to loose than one’s ridiculous job position.

Noticeably trembling at the hissing sound directed toward him, a glance at Aziraphale’s usually pale bright eyes could have very well fooled anyone into thinking that they were indeed now a cloudy, dilated navy shade as they caught the predatory gaze leveled upon him and brought a blush to his cheeks he had never before truly encountered. "I’m glad, my dear." However strange these newest emotions felt whirling about in the pit of the angel’s more than pleased stomach, the way in which his eyelids drooped down to half mast and a small smile was prompted in return to the flash of snake teeth, foretold that they most certainly wouldn’t be hearing the end of this one. Not by a long shot.

Moving around the demon despite what he would have most likely desired to do with the ridiculous state that he felt himself struck by at the moment, though he really couldn’t wholly understand the meaning of all this at present, the angel waved a pale hand once more toward the nearest table by their small kitchenette and watched with those same slightly dilated wide eyes as a few bottles of alcohol materialized, purposefully without any cups to speak of. "Parched?"

Crowley's smirk widened as it noticed every single little detail of Aziraphale's reaction to his low, hissed words. The darkening of those eyes, the trembling in his limbs, the heating of his flesh and a small smile...that coy little smile....all of which only fueled Crowley's instinct to take, to posess--

But, ah, that would ruin the game. Best not to let the game die already, no, not when things were just getting interesting. Especially now that alcohol had been introducted. How perfect.

"Absolutely, angel."

He dropped Aziraphale's hand slowly, his fingers running over the contours of his hand from wrist to fingertips while his eyes locked with the angel's, his smirk widening before he turned away, sauntering over towards the alcohol.

Gasping, the angel merely allowed his darkly clouded eyes to fixate upon the hand that was now conducting a rather pleasantly sharp emotion to be traveling throughout his buzzing senses much too quickly for him to rationalize them, properly. Following this in more than an impetuous answer to the welcomed caresses, his index finger lightly curled upward upon the palm that was covering his own hand, allowing it to press and smooth the skin gently with a newly awakened spirit he hadn’t been altogether sure he held within him until now. Once they parted, everything became rather clear—or, in some sense of the word, unclear—pertaining to the foreseeable future, so one thing was most certainly required.

Drinks.

Apparently, a whole lot of alcoholic beverages, something that the angel would have violently protested against beforehand only to keep up heavenly appearances or quite possibly to remain the halfway sober one when the other became too intoxicated to move a wing, or what have you. Stretching his left wing a bit to a rather improbable position with a heavily satisfied moan, Aziraphale pushed the pair of glasses upward upon the bridge of his nose in a vain attempt at looking intelligent while his speech drawled, "—‘m telling you, my dear—" whilst yet another consumption of the latest drink was made.

“Eve—the young girl, that—Lyra, she has it—flaming sword, and all that rubbish. S’mine," he ended in quite the dejected manner, slumping forward upon the chair he had occupied until just then, when he promptly fell off the wooden piece of furniture and onto the floor, giggling softly through his flushed nose. "—care to join me, dearest?" the angel prompted most innocently, still eyeing the demon nearest to him with a rather dilated gaze that was certainly anything but angelic.

Crowley had watched the angel get more and more drunk with increasing amusement as he drank himself into a similar stupor.

He couldn't help but smirk as the angel finally toppled off his chair and onto the floor. Something dimly in the back of his mind told him that Az had said something important, but he wasn't really concentrating on that right now. Especially when said angle was looking particularily ravishable right at that moment, all sprawled on the floor, his hair ruffled, glasses slightly askew, and those lovely dialated eyes.

Crowley opened his mouth slightly to run his teeth over his fangs before his yellow gaze turned predatory and a smirk affixed itself on his face as Aziraphale invited him to join him on the floor.

"Why not?" he stated, slipping off the chair and onto the floor, proping himself on his stomach and stretching like a cat, arching his back momentarily, before he relaxed, laying his chin on his folded arms.

"Mind if I ssssssssssssstretch my wings out?" he asked.

"Good," the angel confirmed once the object of his ever present and overwhelming desires proceeded to take a place upon the flooring next to him, which most certainly wasn’t of a rug material until a second ago. Looking pleased with his work even when considerably drunk, Az took a long dazed sort of glance over Crowley’s form stretched out before him longingly and utterly forgot to at least mask what he was doing, even out of propriety induced habit.

But such things were altogether lost when particularly intoxicated—and, truth be told, immortal beings such as themselves were prone to practice in the art of holding their liquor frequently—so he was able to drink his fill of the demon’s almost feline mannerisms to his lovely, delicious form. "Ah—" And he was purposefully hissing at him once more, wasn’t he? "—yes, do indulge." Propping himself upward while leaning back on his elbows to become more engrossed with the way in which his long time associate simply moved, Az felt more so than performed the careful, trembling, sexually alluring sort of stretch that his own white wings made from behind him which most certainly marked his apparent feelings upon the whole occurrence, at large. It was becoming rather difficult to breathe now strangely enough, a slight breeze ruffling the angel’s particularly chaotic golden curls, bringing to light those eyes that were so terribly fixated upon the demon as his lips parted slightly with a small and delicate "oh", everything beginning to fall into place.

"—my dear?"

Crowley was feeling particularily lazy right now. The alcohol in his system had mellowed him down, and he felt quite relaxed. He unfurrled his black wings, stretching them out before they came to rest along his back, and he let out a small sigh of contentment closing his eyes, therefore missing somewhat Aziraphales reactions. However, if he had been paying closer attention, he would've picked up on it sooner, but alas...

He cracked an eye open at Aziraphale's light "my dear?".

"Yesssss?" he asked, golden eyes obviously raking over the angel's rumpled appearance before they settled on his eyes and....those eyes. Blue blue blue and oh so pretty.

And then, he wasn’t precisely sure of what he had wanted to say, really. More so a wish to express a particular something to the demon in question without having to use words, but whatever that happened to be had yet to be detailed and neatly mapped out within the angel’s mind, just yet. So Aziraphale merely shrugged gently, a small playful smile crossing his lips as he watched Crowley albeit dazedly from the amount of alcohol already in his system and murmured a "I’ve seem to forgotten" in a somewhat apologetic tone, before laying back down upon the floor.

Clearly amused though a great deal exhausted from the past few days events, the angel stretched out upon the rug with his back arching just slightly, emitting a soft sigh in the process and relaxing his muscles once more, far too dizzy to properly handle a bottle in order to drink anymore, which normally tells one that they’ve had too much.

A very white feather had somehow found its way upon the floor next to him, and the angel was watching it with an idle gaze before picking it up between his index and forefinger, intrigued. "You’re far away, my dear—" Aziraphale commented quite offhandedly, watching as it became much too difficult to raise the hand that had held the feather up for a long period of time.

Crowley's golden eyes closed as the angel murmerd an apology for having forgoten what he was going to say.

"Mn...not sssssssso far..." Crowley stated, feeling slightly muzzy from the alcohol in his system, but none the less, he cracked one yellow eye open and reached out, catching onto Aziraphale's wrist and drawing him closer. "There. Better." he stated. However, he did lift his head and open both eyes, brow drawing into a slight frown.

"Isssss there something wrong with your wingsssss?" he asked.

On any other occasion, Aziraphale would have made a halfway excuse to placate his colleague merely due to the fact that cherubs couldn’t precisely outright lie, though having a very drunk immortal being on one’s hand might change the situation quite a bit, indeed. Having proceeded to get rather violently comfortable when his wrist was tugged downward, the angel mumbled a pleased noise and simply lay sprawled out on the rug, breathing in an abrupt scent that was markedly the demon now that they were closer, though he could have recognized it within seconds at any other point. "Hm—?"

Blinking, he had to glance down in order to see Crowley while he inquired after his wings, and as if in an unknowing afterthought Aziraphale’s dilated cobalt eyes turned toward the white appendages, recalling how they’d been molting rapidly as of late. "Ah, they’ve been f—fuh—falling apart, my dear," he answered whilst finding it rather difficult to pronunciate, staring at the feather between his fingers idly and not exactly listening to the words coming out of his mouth, which was probably a bad thing.

Crowley was very near purring. Especially now that Aziraphale was a good deal more closer than he had been before, and it was rather pleasing to feel the delicious scent of the angel floating past his nose. It was something of a mix of light lavender, dusty books that nobody's opened for a century, and warm honey tea, if he was going to be poetic about it. Or, to put it simply, it was just Aziraphale.

He did frown however, wincing slightly as he forced some of the alcohol to leave his system so he could concentrate more on what the angel was saying. "Falling apart?" he asked. "Angel's wings don't just fall apart. They have a reasssssssson."

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Log, Ongoing

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