(Untitled)

[ineffable_angel]

Date: February 1st, 2001
Setting: Tadfield Manor, outside of the hospital wing.
Status: Private - Aziraphale, Crowley.
Summary: Aziraphale is in the Manor. So is Crowley.

Comments

[anthony_crowley]

He'd tried. Every day for nearly a week, Crowley had drawn on his still limited strength to try to heal the significant damage done to his wings, but he hadn't managed to do much good. In fact, this particular day, his concentration had slipped and he'd ripped off a scab before healing the wound beneath which only caused him to bleed heavily all over the duvet and weaken him further.

It was no good. He was going to need Gabriel's help. The demon winced, his pride stinging more than his broken limbs. He didn't like being indebted to the Messenger, didn't like the frosty atmosphere, didn't like asking for help, and especially didn't like putting his wings in the hands of an archangel, but he had to, and soon, if he ever wanted to fly again.

At least he had a bargaining chip. Gabriel wouldn't like it, but he wouldn't have a choice. If he wanted any news of his lover, he was going to have to heal the demon.

Jaw set in determination, Crowley set off for the hospital wing ready to do battle. Sensing the angelic aura on the other side of the door, he pushed it open to find Aziraphale standing there looking like he always had. What the...

"Fuck," he said, and turned to leave again.

[ineffable_angel]

It's true; the shock of the familiar - so incredibly familiar, two, three months seemed nothing - face made him freeze, unnecessary breath catching. Then Crowley moved away, and Aziraphale realized, suddenly, that he was going to leave, and reacted, moving forward with a hand outstretched, as if to catch his sleeve.

"No, wait-!"

He could not let this - any - opportunity pass.

[anthony_crowley]

Crowley jerked his arm away, still uncomfortable with being touched - much more so by the one creature he'd always craved it from. How did one go from intimate touches to none at all?

"Piss off, Aziraphale," he muttered. "You're good at that."

[ineffable_angel]

His heart sunk, when he felt the abrupt yank out of his hands, before he'd even grasped the slightest dark thread.

It was funny that they said that some truths, when spoken, could make you feel like you were being stabbed. That was a truth, too, he discovered now.

"My dear," he said quietly, his face stricken. "I would that we would have a conversation."

His voice quieted further.

"Please."

[anthony_crowley]

From his place in the doorway, Crowley looked past Aziraphale into the depths of the hospital but couldn't find any evidence that Gabriel was around. Then he looked back into the currently empty hallway. Anything rather than look at the angel standing there as if nothing had happened. As if nothing had changed. As if Crowley's universe hadn't had to be entirely rebuilt a dozen times over the last year and a half.

"I have nothing to say to you," he snarled.

[ineffable_angel]

After six thousand years, Aziraphale knew well enough when Crowley wasn't, exactly, comfortable. And on a scale...

"Would you listen, my dear?" His voice cracked and he cleared it, quickly. "I want to confess... I want to tell you what happened. I never said it all, before." When we were lovers, and I should have, Aziraphale thought, watching the demon intently.

"It wasn't very fair to you." He sighed. "I wasn't very fair to you."

It was important that he got his point across, though. So much depended on the few minutes Crowley would spare him. Their friendship. Their Arrangement. Their... whatever it had been.

"So, please. A drink, just that, and then if you wish me to leave you alone, I will."

[anthony_crowley]

Crowley watched him suspiciously, eyes narrowed. He'd always thought he could read Aziraphale like the angel read one of his books. Maybe he'd been deluding himself all this time... "No shit, Sherlock. It took you four months to realise that?"

He carefully crossed his arms over his chest. "Why now?"

[ineffable_angel]

If anyone looked at them now, facing off in the hallway, both stubborn as nails, he or she or it would believe they were sworn enemies, staring each other down.

In truth, the angel's mouth was only dry as he repeated the "Four?" in his head, shocked. Had it really been so long?

"Because I have considered our... argument, and I want - if we're going to be so separated - to know that you knew what was what. That we were clear and honest and this isn't some silly mistake blown out of proportion, when we both know it's not about some minute detail. It's no good to make assumptions; I think we both can appreciate that." He didn't make the statement with any particular inflection, but his ears were going red. All that silly behaviour of his with John, and Ellie...

Crowley hadn't said no yet, though. That was far more than he had dared to hope for, so Aziraphale waited, hoping.

[anthony_crowley]

The demon well knew that their problems hadn't stemmed from one misunderstanding or even a series of them. John had been right. They just didn't trust one another enough to be honest. Crowley had tried, but he'd never felt those efforts to be reciprocated, even in the least important matters. He still couldn't figure out why the angel had just never come right out and said, 'no, I'm not the father of Uriel's baby'.

Scowling, Crowley looked for Gabriel once more and sighed, resigned. He was already feeling like shit, so talking couldn't make his mood that much worse. And the angel would insist on it some time, pushing and pushing until he gave in. He might as well get it over with now.

"Aziraphale, in six thousand years we've never been 'clear and honest'. What the hell makes you think we can start now?"

[ineffable_angel]

...Resignment.

The joy of it overwhelmed him, made his eyes sharp, checking and double-checking and yes, triple-checking that his observation was correct, that it wasn't an illusion, that Crowley was actually... giving in.

"We could try, at least. At least that. What have we to lose, precisely?" He offered Crowley a pained smile, wondering what this would look like in retrospect. "Crowley."

[anthony_crowley]

Crowley stared at him blankly, unblinking. It was true. They didn't have anything to lose. It had already been lost.

"What?"

[ineffable_angel]

"You just... look like you needed to sit down for a moment, my dear." He didn't ask, Are you all right? because it was a stupid, stupid question, when they both clearly weren't, and hadn't been, and weren't likely to be for a while. But there was something exhaustive about his posture, and the angel hadn't forgotten that he'd caught Crowley coming to the hospital wing. "We'll go the library, if that's all right. For a bit of privacy."

He was afraid to move first lest he spooked Crowley, afraid to leave in case his nerve failed him, or Crowley's nerve failed him. "Let's head off together, then, shall we? There's tea, of course, but I'm sure we could find a decent wine."

[anthony_crowley]

He did need to sit down. He was slightly anemic from blood loss and his powers were too weak at the moment to rectify that. But Crowley didn't want to look weak, so he just turned and headed for the stairs, not checking or caring if Aziraphale was following. Instead he was trying to figure out what he'd say if the angel asked why he'd been on his way to the hospital.

"No wine for me," he managed. The last thing the demon needed was something to thin out his blood further or cloud his judgment. This would take whatever wits and strength he had left.

[ineffable_angel]

"Very well," Aziraphale consented, following behind after a thorough check of the hall. "I'll put on a pot of tea," and there was one, steaming, when they arrived, the small table set and loaded with cream, milk, and sugar.

Crowley looked ill, even in the dim light of the library, and his aura - his look - wasn't well. If angels had instincts they would be screaming, telling him something was very wrong. "Oh, do sit down, the chairs here are very comfortable." He bit his lip, keeping his concern back, remembering the level of familiarity where he could, at least, offer him a hand into the chair, and help him settle comfortably in.

[anthony_crowley]

Sitting gingerly, but trying not to look like he was doing any such thing, Crowley took a cup of black tea, if only to have a reason for sitting near the edge of the chair. The warmth was comforting in his hand.

"I don't have all day, Aziraphale. What's this about? Say what you wanted to say, because I've got things to do."

[ineffable_angel]

Hovering at first, then ignoring the lure of the opposite chair, the angel stood, leaning faintly against the edge of the chair.

"Well, Uriel. I'll start with her. You've seen the child - Bran, if I recall correctly - or you've spoken with someone, or you knew, along the way, that it couldn't possibly have been me. You've seen his parentage. It's not even an angel, even if it is immortal: a Horseperson, one of light eyes. Pollution, or Pestilence, although it doesn't matter, does it? It shouldn't have been an argument, either, but I took the wrong tack, over a simple gift. I wanted to help out with the child, as she had so few others offering. Only trying to help, even if the gift - pink tartan clothing, since we're being completely honest - would have left you mocking me for centuries. I didn't deny it immediately because I was disappointed that you couldn't have enough faith to simply laugh it off for what it was, although perhaps I'd given you enough cause to doubt, and hadn't realized it."

He sighed, tired. "I was worried, too. I was worried about Oscar, that you were insecure and silent when you should have asked me... The appropriate reaction to finding some sort of affection beyond our Arrangement would not have been falling asleep for a century as the best course of action, either, but there were other factors. And yes, I felt - was starting to - feel the same about you, but without you, for so long, I looked for friendship elsewhere and it became more along the way. There is no comparison to what we had, and there shouldn't be.

"When I fretted over you I also wondered how you felt having me as a first, and whether we worked, and what you wanted. I would not have continued to bring the issue of sex - yes, there, I did say it, you can blush if you like - if I was secure that you were happy with it. But the truth is, as far as that goes, I enjoyed last Christmas, and merely sharing a bed, just as much. Although I did, er, enjoy it, though, considerably.

"What else? Ellie, and the rest? That was immaturity, really. It wasn't exactly outright jealousy, but it felt close, and I simply didn't know what to do but say something. It was petty, unfair, and I'm sorry. I am. I hadn't expected... and I didn't trust you, did I. Arcane superstitions about showing too much skin, I suppose. Of all the things to keep from millennia of religious ideals." He half-chuckled, although it wasn't funny.

"It's sort of ironic, you know. We went from trusting each other in the Arrangement to being unable to when we went further. I didn't want to lose a friendship because we chose to have a deeper relationship. It's too high a cost, my dear. Far too high." The angel clasped his pudgy hands, looking directly at Crowley, letting his pause hang in the air. Then, moment broken, he glanced at Crowley's stiffness.

"And I think we should discuss what happened while I was gone, if you want honesty."