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WHEN; Well into the late evening, early night.
RATING; Not sure! >D
CHARACTERS; Aziraphale [

wingedly ] & Crowley [

saunturing_down ].
SUMMARY; Um, they’re really too angsty for their own good, yanno. XD To make this short, it follows a while after this entry was made and the subject of the angel’s possible fall from grace will be discussed.
LOG;

It was almost as if being at home once more, preferably one that was a considerable deal more chaotic than how he had recalled leaving it behind, for there were empty tea cups strewn about the wooden flooring, varied mythological books on angelic hierarchy detailing which one must perform what tasks lying about, while pallid chalk dusted about here and there over the contents of the room as if it were snow, despite the rather glaring circle that had been haphazardly drawn about the perimeter of the vicinity itself. As if it had been turned into a righteous battlefield. Certainly what would be the most decidedly odd aspect about the bedroom at large, would be the bed situated farthest from the locked window where two purely white appendages were protruding out from underneath the furniture itself along with the sheets hanging low to the ground which made it rather difficult to decipher what type of being lay beneath it, obviously hiding. One wing had been seemingly forced to compensate with the now cluttered space of the room, downy soft feathers climbing up the nearest wall while it’s counterpart expanded over the flat expanse of the wooden flooring, spread out wide to unknowingly express a most vulnerable angel must be attached to them both.

A rather despairing moan followed as the angel proceeded to gradually awaken from a long dream, a frown of befuddlement crossing his expression as he attempted to regain something of what he had been doing the past few hours, which presented itself in the form of a crinkled page having stuck to his flushed cheek as he picked up his head and gazed blankly down at the open book. Lifting himself upward on his elbows as much as he could due to the lower level of the bed above him, he began to read what was lying in front of him out of undoubted curiosity, a trait he had always had a bit of a difficulty repressing, It is at this point that God expels them from Eden, to keep Adam and Eve from partaking of the Tree of Life. The story says that God placed cherubim with a flaming sword to guard against any future entrance into the garden.

Fingers unknowingly dug into the wooden floorboards, the unfortunate piece of literature being flung across the expanse of the room and into the locked door with a fairly loud bang, Aziraphale’s flaring regret almost immediately dying down to give way to a damning wave of shame where he was compelled to collapse back onto the floor, glassy cobalt gaze wide. It took a whole two minutes before the angel proceeded to become aware of the fact that he was crying, a soft noise in despair escaping from his throat as he allowed his head to drop back down onto the floor with a satisfied thud, trying to sort everything out when it was improbable not to loose control, again.

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Crowley had stepped into the apartment just in time to hear the slamming of said book against the door. However, not knowing what it was that hit the door, his brow wrinkled in confusion, and he made his way over towards the door. He leaned in slightly (well, as much as the holy chalk drawn around the door would allow), sharp ears listening for any sound.

What he heard sent a chill down his spine.

His angel was crying.

"Aziraphale!" he hissed, lifting a hand to pound on the door, but stopping right before he did so, rememebering the chalk. "Aziraphale! Open up! I know you're in there!:

The angel in question almost immediately stiffened at the recognizable voice behind the door, attempting to take a rather deep breath in order to somehow calm his broken nerves and become very still, blood pounding unnecessarily loud in his ears as he listened quietly.

"No," he murmured in a rather frighteningly mild manner, tone only slightly muffled by the fact that he had pushed his blushing nose into the wooden floorboards nicely—something that contrasted horribly with the way in which there were dark rims placed underneath his brightened eyes from all the reading coupled with his unusually violent pale complexion. Though despite his resolution upon the fact that he would not allow the demon inside to merely apologize for not caring for him in the way he so desperately wished he would, the angel tensed at the impulse to sob and was instead rewarded for his efforts when only a small, barely noticeable moan left his mouth to give him away.

Crowley's jaw clenched as Aziraphale refused him entrance. However, what was worse was the small moan of pain his ears picked up.

"Fine." he stated. "If you won't let me in, I'll force my way in."

This was going to fucking hurt.

Crowley took in a deep breath, placing his hand over the doorknob and turning. However, the moment he set his hand over the line, an electric shock shot up his arm. He yelped in pain, jerking his hand away.

He snarled to himself, and tried again, this time attempting to ignore the pain shooting up his arm and through his body. His yellow eyes darkened as he twisted the handle, though it didn't give, as it was locked. The shocks shooting up his arm became visible lightning and sparks flickering around his hand as he shoved against the door, finally pushing it open and breaking the lock.

He felt as though his knees were about to give out. Through sheer force of will he keep himself upright, leaning against the door as the sparks and lightning spread, flowing over his whole body now, making him close one eye in defense as he leanded against the door to hold himself up.

"C-C-c'mon angel..h-h-h-have m-m-mercy." he managed weakly, paing shooting through his entire body as the holy power effected his very demonish state.

Sometimes, at the present being a very decent example of this, the angel could become so absolutely furious with the demon beyond the ability to properly verbalize, that he would feel a need to impale his rather overprotective head with a tea kettle and have at it. But, as these were exceedingly un-angelic things to do, he tensed at the scuffle that sounded outside his bedroom door and scolded himself violently for misjudging his colleague’s level of obsessive nature when it came to looking after him, though this only proved to throw the heartbroken cherub into another tizzy about just why he always insisted on looking after him when he wasn’t fond of him at all. Sighing loudly through his nose, there was a lingering sound that rang throughout the air like unearthly bells as the chalk in question abruptly faded into the foreground of the wooden flooring, sent back to the palace from where it had come from along with a post marked ‘thank you’ and much needed apologies for having to borrow them, on such short notice.

Tentative after all was said and done, the angel peeked one sharp cobalt eye out from underneath the bed, hugely expansive wings lying about the entirety of the room tensing ever so slightly at the poor sight of the demon standing upon the threshold of the door, compelling him to close his gaze to the world briefly as he made a breathless prayer to heal his unrequited love in light of these events. When that business was finished, the forlorn sight of Aziraphale backed away underneath the piece of furniture once more and felt rather like a kicked animal, curling up as best he could so that he wouldn’t be able to face Crowley, even if it were ineffable that he would wish to step forward and apologize for nothing.

"There," he stated quietly, trying his best not to whimper.

Crowley almost groaned with relief as the chalk and the holy power disappeared, but instead he turned it into a sigh, sliding down, his back against the door for support. He took a moment to catch his breath, pain that was inflicted before slowly draining out of his limbs.

"thanksssss." he hissed, quietly. After a moment, he pushed himself to his feet, wandering over towards the bed, where he crouched. "C'mon out, angel. We need to talk."

"Don’t," the angel pleaded against his own will, trying not to show how terrible he must look right then by nudging his nose into the fabric of his elbow with a sound that could only be described as a soft moan in despair. It had been an entire day of this horrible torture, having to sort through more literature on the subject of cherubim than he would have liked to in a whole immortal existence, as well as the fact that he couldn’t quite bring himself to admit to the fact that just the mere scent of the demon wafting towards him from where he crouched near to the bed made the angel dizzy with love, something he could have never foreseen happening in all his six thousand years on earth getting to know him.

"Please, I couldn’t possibly—" and he paused, swallowing hard against his sleeve as his wings twitched at the effort it took not to sob out everything he’d been locking within himself all day long. A second rejection would truthfully murder Aziraphale, sending him right over the apartment roof and to his fall, where he would lie for the rest of his pitifully disappointing life and never get up again. Or he could be over exaggerating, but this hurt, the emotion pulling at his heartstrings like nothing else had ever mattered until now, until this.

Crowley sighed, and got down flat onto the ground, facing the angel still hiding under the bed.

"You can't hide under there forever." he stated, reaching out a hand and gently touching his angel's temple, fingers whispering through soft blond locks.

This wasn’t helping at all, it was most likely meant as a kind sentiment but for some odd reason the unstable angel took it the completely opposite way and interpreted the warm gesture as being pity, for he was indeed a pitiful sight to behold. And he outright refused to make any sound whatsoever, burying his pale nose further into the folds of his elbow with the only indication of the crystalline tears sliding from his tightly closed gaze being the slight tremble of his shoulder blades, displacing his wings just barely from where they lay sprawled out across the room.

In an attempt to mask this for the demon was always so keen on picking up such things about him, the angel made a forceful noise in the negative as if to kindly request that he just leave him alone to gather up the pieces of something he had left behind.

"I'm not leaving." Crowley's response was immediate, as he pushed himself forward sliding a bit under the bed. "Angel..." he trailed off, however, with a frown. There was...something off. It felt like the same thing that had been off with Lyra before...something not quite right that...didn't she say something about a shard.

"Aziraphale." his voice was grave. "Aziraphale, I think you have a shard."

As the demon moved forward to crawl a bit underneath the bed with him, the angel immediately shrunk backward until his curled up knees were stopped by the unfortunate wall that was there, stopping his escape process. Still unable to pick up his head to even glance at Crowley with those improbably bright cobalt eyes, Aziraphale merely groaned softly in response and turned away even further, utterly refusing to do anything other than make displeased noises in hopes that he would simply go away and stop drawing out the intense feeling of regret that gnawed at his heart, pulling everything he once knew apart.

This ached like nothing else, probably magnified by the odd piece of someone else’s emotion that was stuck within him, but it was still his own feelings and they weren’t precisely making the angel all that pleased, especially with the demon growing so deceivingly sentimental over it all. "Go," he croaked forcefully despite his prior intentions not to speak, tensing once more at the urge to sob aloud.

That's the unfortunate thing about demons: They're horribly stubborn.

"No. I won't." Crowley stated. "Az, we have to get whatever that is out of you. Because this isn't going to go away. I'm not going to go away.

Seemingly, the angel had a great deal of explaining to do and very little patience to do it with, though there wasn’t any going back now if he were to properly escort the demon out of his bedroom to allow him more time to himself, alone. "They took it," a rather flat statement aside from the unrepressed sniff that followed after at having to speak when his nose was so stuffy from crying that day, Aziraphale still would not look up at Crowley to view his most likely displeased expression.

"Had it this morning, they took it away." Truth be told, it had been rather easy to extract the unwilling foreign emotion from the cherub once they had stumbled upon that morning’s entry to which fully expressed his overwhelming shame upon everything in general and then pointed them to the fact that something was certainly odd. But now, lying upon the wooden floorboards in a violently dismayed manner, the angel didn’t wholly desire to admit to the fact that this was all the cause of the demon’s rejection last night and how hard it had caused him to fall, so to speak. And he hoped to anyone above or below to have mercy on the poor thing for once and keep his unnaturally attentive colleague from making the connection.

[ ooc: urgh, sorry! forgot to explain—they took the shard this morning, but we decided we'd just assume it was gone. :x maybe since az has never been truly like this before, we could just say crowley assumed? <3 FORGIVE ME! ]

[ooc: and the mun said let it be assumed, and it was assumed. <3333 Plus, I have question. You online?]

Ah. Well, that was it, then. It had to be something else. Lord Below, but this was like pulling teeth.

"That solves that then." he stated. "Angel, are you going to look at me?" He asked, scooting even closer, now that the angel had no where to go. He reached out a hand again, running it gently through Aziraphale's hair and caressing along the only part of his cheek that was exposed. "As I said before...I'm not going away."

And he did, soothed by the warm caress upon his pinkish wet cheek as if he were a forlorn creature simply craving touch, a very human sort of emotion to take on should he have had the energy to look at it that way. For if there was any part of Aziraphale that reflected most directly to any sort of emotion or thought that he held within him like a clear glass window, it would have to be his rounded, bright cobalt eyes that would melt with the slightest kind gesture and ignite darkly when defensive. Here, they were of a soft almost forgiving pale blue that were rather glossy at having leaked a fair amount in the past few minutes, the fabric on his elbow sopping with the tears at this point as the angel stared openly at the demon, breathing stopped. And he waited for some sort of acknowledgement to obeying his colleague’s wishes, cocking his head ever so slightly to the side in a calm that felt most unnatural under the circumstances.

Crowley quirked a small smile as the angel looked up towards him. "There we go..." he stated, his voice slightly gruff in an attempt to be soothing. But seriously, what demon did soothing well? Certainly not Crowley.

His yellow eyes flicked over his angel's appearance, the angular lines on his face softening slightly. "Ready to talk?" he asked, quietly.

On any other occasion, the angel would have most assuredly given the demon a smile that could brighten up any room imaginable at even the smallest attempt at offering a soothing tone in order to calm his nerves, but here was not the time or the place and that nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach caused a small worried frown to appear upon his expression. "About what, dear?" he questioned equally low in volume, trying to decipher what more it was Crowley could possibly wish to say to him after how forcefully determined he had been the night before in getting his point across to Aziraphale, where it was dually noted and locked away in his rapidly beating heart, as of now.

"You. Me. Us. This. Whatever you wish to call it." Crowley stated. "We really do need to talk, Angel. No avoiding it."

As loathe as Aziraphale normally was to speak his mind in an outright manner that may or may not cause offense to the opposing side, this could not be borne while the slight crease upon his brow warned of his next statement. "You made yourself quite clear last night, dear. I daresay there is nothing more to say to one another on the subject." It was difficult to recall what precisely had happened during the moments in which he had been captivated by the wrath curse, though he did vaguely decipher amongst a few befuddling memories and seemingly understood how vastly different those circumstances had been between them, than they had ever experienced together, before. Though now, staring with open cobalt eyes at the demon, the counterpart angel wondered how he could possibly be asking these questions—he didn’t want him—which then caused his forehead to drop back down onto the wooden floor, a frustrated sigh heavy on his lips.

Crowley barily refrained from rolling his eyes as Aziraphale dropped his head onto the floor.

"Somehow I think communication got crossed." the demon stated. "Why don't you tell me what you THOUGHT I meant when I said that I wouldn't allow you to fall because of me."

And then he proceeded to breathe inward sharply, raising his head without a moment to spare while his gaze focused upon the other, "—that you didn’t want me, that this was all a mistake, that you’d rather go back to the original Arrangement, that I shouldn’t be feeling this," the angel breathed while unthinkingly grasping onto the demon’s hand and threading his fingers within his counterpart’s, cobalt eyes all but ablaze as they stared dead into the other pair, exceedingly desperate and searching. Difficult to keep from trembling at the warmth that abruptly flowed throughout his pale form once he had barely touched the other, Aziraphale knew there was no going back after this point—he’d already laid his heart out to Crowley now, and it was only a matter of time before it was tossed back, once more.

Crowley couldn't help his mouth from slowly dropping open as the Angel explained himself. Well...this was unexpected, especially when Aziraphale held his hand and threaded their fingers together. When he was finished, he could only stare at the Angel in shock for a moment before he dropped his own forehead onto the ground, though he held on tight to the angel's hand.

"......sssssstupid Angel. That wasssssssn't what I meant." he stated, not looking up.

Well. Stranger things have happened, the angel supposed mildly once his counterpart promptly connected his forehead onto the wooden flooring, trying to sort out how they could have reached such a gross misunderstanding when he had formerly surmised the demon to have been rather blunt about it all. "Er—my dear, I do believe you should correct yourself, then." Lowering himself onto the ground completely now, Aziraphale simply watched Crowley with a steady breath and warm gaze, gently pushing his hand to rest palm upward so that he could caress the lines of his fingers and the soft curve of the hand, soothing. This would require massive amounts of patience, so it seemed.

"What I meant, wasssssssss....wassssss"

Bugger and a half. He was no good at this.

"I don't want....Becausssssssssse of me...."

SEVEN HELLS BE DAMNED!

"You.....can't fall, I don't want...."

ng. This fucking sucked.

"I don't want you to not be my angel any more."

There. he said it. In a rather roundabout way, but he said it.

It was so, so very difficult not to smile the largest one he had ever experienced feeling the need to express in all of his immortal existence, the overwhelming relief at having finally understood what it was Crowley had been trying to say all this time made Aziraphale’s cobalt eyes brighten with a distinct change in his angelic person, his warming light all but coming off in waves. "My dear?" The angel’s tone of voice was as soft as a whispered breath while his free hand drew close to gently rest upon the demon’s cheek and draw him to look up so that their gazes were level with one another, then. "There’s no need for that, I’m not going to change. If I haven’t already fallen by these terms, which I daresay I haven’t, then there isn’t any reason why I would in the future. Do you follow?"

He knew very well that professing a large scale declaration of love would be entirely unnecessary and more importantly unwanted, for the angel felt a strong desire to merely speak what he wanted so very much to say to the demon by touching, something that translated far better to the stubborn little thing than anything else seemed to, at best. So he merely offered up a gentle smile, fingers drawing light paths upon the demon’s palm.

Crowley momentarily resisted as the Angel attempted to pull his head up to look at him, but after a moment he complied, nuzzling against Az's fingers and kissing his palm in an oddly tender jesture.

Well...it wouldn't happen again, anyway.

"I.......but..."

Crowley wasn't making any sense. But that was alright, for now. He curled his hand around Aziraphales and closed his yellow eyes, resting his cheek against the angel's hand that was already situated there.

Struck with a rather silly idea abruptly out of nowhere, especially at the kindest gesture the demon could have bestowed upon him by lightly brushing his lips into the curve of his own palm, the angel watched with oddly too bright cobalt eyes as his dearest companion floundered for words to express what they needed to get past in order to continue on with these lovely circumstances. "—dear," Aziraphale murmured with a warm blush that tainted his pale cheeks ever so slightly, not having performed an angelic deed like this in some time since he had arrived at this new place, before sighing breathlessly and caressing Crowley’s cheek with his thumb.

With this gesture, he began to take on a bit of what the demon was negatively worried about, not completely draining him of his anxieties though helping to create a sense of healing within him just in case he wasn’t able to comprehend how to do it on his own. And really, now that they had come this far with one another, he didn’t see any feasible reason why he couldn’t try to guide him along the way just as he had done for him, too. Hopefully the demon wouldn’t notice all that much for he was doing it rather gradually in case he picked upon on it, but Aziraphale watched intently with a masked wince at the emotions he proceeded to feel in turn as they arrived, looking for any sign that Crowley might be feeling ever so slightly well off, in the long run. As he’d mentioned before, this was touch.

Crowley instinctivly leaned into that touch, feeling the heat and warmth radiating off of his angel and just basking in it for a moment before he started to feel ridiculous again.

Frowning, the angel soundlessly berated himself for ever having thought that his dearest demon would readily accept this gesture without qualms, even if he hadn’t any true concept of what it was he was really doing, outside of offering a bit of warmth since he most likely had never performed this to him, beforehand. "All right, now?" Aziraphale breathed out, gently easing the angelic warmth to a dull throbbing pulse, finding with a startling insight that he had indeed gone all the way in providing comfort for Crowley and wouldn’t precisely be able to continue the deed full throttle like that again at least in the next few hours, even if he tried.

"...yeah." It was quiet, and the demon refused to open his eyes, because dammit, Demons weren't supposed to be stoft and mussy! That was the angel's job. To punctuate this, he turns his head into Aziraphale's palm again, forked tongue flicking out against the sensative center of the angel's palm, and teeth moveing to nip at a forefinger.

Now he opened his eyes and they glowed.

This didn’t necessarily daunt the angel at all to speak the absolute truth on the subject, for he was surely awaiting the point in which the demon would break away from the softness as he retracted his wings in a gentle manner, blue eyes gazing back with a slightly amused tint to the center once his palm was being properly attended to. "Ah—I see," making a low pleased sort of noise from the back of his throat, Aziraphale moved forward just as Crowley chewed lightly upon his forefinger and breathed hotly into his companion’s ear, gently easing his pink tongue out upon the lower earlobe, humming thoughtfully. Yes, this was a lovely change, despite his angelic instincts to cuddle.

Crowley let out a hiss as Aziraphales tongue flicked out over his ear.

"We...need to get out from under this bed." he growled, low, in the back of his throat, providing one last nip at the Angel's fingers.

Choosing not to precisely respond with words, the angel unwillingly extracted himself from the demon before crawling out from underneath the bed and peeking back with one improbably bright eye, grasping onto his hand while giving it a little tug to ease him out, as well. With a small grin, he grasped onto the piece of furniture for leverage and winced ever so slightly at the terrifically chaotic sight of the room at large, before reaching out his pale fingers and threading them into the fabric of Crowley’s shirt, drawing him close to nudge his lower lip against his own, breathing steadily.

Words? Who needs words. Especially when you've got a very, very pretty angel on your hands? And, in this case, that specific angel had just tugged him off the floor and was now pulling him closer.

Crowley let out a small 'hmm' in the back of his throat, wrapping his arms around Aziraphale's back and drawing him closer. He nipped gently at Aziraphale's bottom lip, tongue flicking out to taste.

And the angel made a soft moaning noise at the tongue being applied to his lower lip, complying to the gesture by easing their mouths open slightly to deepen the kiss, pale fingers curling at the base of the demon’s lower neck and drawing him closer, more. Somehow, while Aziraphale had spent the entire day laying in a most despairing fashion underneath that damnable bed with the only thought that Crowley would never want to hold him like this, touch him like this, and now that he most certainly was, there was no stopping the angelic creation into taking advantage of the situation at hand. Certainly in a most kind manner at the very least, for he was still a cherub, after all.

"Ngk," the angel breathed against their open mouths, easing his leg in between the demon’s in an attempt to have them easily fit together. Like that, the motion making Aziraphale tremble slightly at the newest emotions creating quite a bit of warmth throughout his limbs, rather nicely.

Crowley was rather liking the way he and Aziraphale fit so very nicely together. Especially the part where the angel was nice and close, so that Crowley could easily breathe in his nice, clean scent, letting it wrap around him and making him slightly dizzy.

He hissed into the angel's mouth, pulling him tightly up against him so they fit just right, and tilted his head just enough for him to slip his tongue into the other's mouth, flicking and tasting.

One hand slide down over Aziraphale's lower back to cup his rear, pulling him closer.

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