voidtreckerexpress | Party Time

Entry tags:

Party Time

Who: Everyone who wants to attend.
What: It's a party for all, but the pairing up part is for singles only.
When: Day 19 of Fiddlesticks
Where: Gym Carriage
Warnings: Who knows atm just Minako being Minako will add more as things happen.

[Minako figured she did the best she could for the party. Though she also wondered if perhaps she might not have that many people come. Sure she wanted to put singles together, but at the same time, she simply wanted people to have fun.

In the dressing carriage, people will find costumes and masks that were more gothic in nature. There was food and hopefully some forms of sweet treats for those looking for it as well as a variety of drink, mostly non-alcoholic.]

OOC: Examples of the type of outfits and such can be found here: costumes and
masks]

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Aziraphale keeps a gentle grip on their hand as they move through the empty cars, the lack of view in the windows just further cementing this feeling of solitude. And, yet, he isn't bothered at all, quite the contrary, with such excellent company to keep.

"Well, perhaps we could ask. Should be no harm." Oh, how he could do with his records and his books, in the welcoming sanctuary that is- was- is? His bookshop. "I would love some Mozart. Bach. I'd settle for less, if we could get anything at all."

Reaching the quiet car, he tests the first door they move across - lo and behold, a nice little room for them to hide out in. So he holds the door open. "After you."

"Oh-- yes, sure. Let's just ask our captors, 'Excuse me, could you give us some knockoff Bach, please, we'd really like to listen to it while we read Jomeo and Ruliet!'- yes, that should do it." Crowley's tone is teasing, including the most formal voice they can muster as they recite the request, and cackling to themselves as they finish speaking.

They're still hissing small bouts of laughter as Aziraphale tests the door, immediately distracted and delighted once it's open, and tilting their chin up in a mock-polite way as they enter per Aziraphale's instruction, quickly flopping onto one of the benches, using a quick miracle to open the bottle without the proper tools to do so.

Edited (fuck) 2020-06-15 23:14 (UTC)

Aziraphale is far too familiar with Crowley's kind of sarcasm to be bothered by it - and he's in far too high spirits to be bothered by most things in the first place. He follows them into the room, closing and locking the door behind him, moving over to take a seat on the opposite bench.

The angel sighs, head buzzing slightly with the delectable touch of alcohol, wiggling slightly in that familiar way he does to adjust himself in his seat.

"I can't help but to be curious about what would appear. What would this train - this place, or, whoever - make of the classics."

"I'm afraid to find out." the demon replies, then takes a healthy drink of the wine, straight from the bottle. It's certainly not the high-end stuff the angel keeps in his shop, but it'll do in a pinch. Better than whatever was on hand at the party.

Crowley admires that little wiggle for a moment before passing the angel the bottle, reaching then behind their head to tug at the string that secures their mask in place, pulling it off and letting it fall from their face. It's tossed to the side, and then Crowley runs their fingers through their own hair to make sure it's properly in place.

Aziraphale mutters a thank you as he takes the bottle, settling back to take a healthy sip himself - but his eyes find themselves on the demon again even then. He daintily wipes at the corner of his mouth, handing the bottle back over, before tending to pulling off his own mask.

"You know," He starts, putting the mask away on the little table. "that is quite the lovely dress."

Crowley takes the bottle, helping themselves to another sip before handing it back, lips puckering a bit in thought.

"I remembered seeing it during fashion week at some point. Might have gotten some details off." they say, then smile, eyes glimmering gold and within view for the first time during the evening. "I'm glad you like it."

They wait for Aziraphale to take the bottle, then lean closer. "I do like yours, you know. Reminds me an awful lot of... hmm... the reign of terror." the last part is said with a slight chuckle, the demon's eyes tracing unashamedly over the length of the angel's body.

If they were expecting a reaction - well, it's subtle, but it's there, as he's taking a sip and sputters just a tiny bit over the comment- or perhaps it's the look in the demon's eyes. He brings a finger up to wipe at his mouth again, clearing his throat.

"Yes, well, I might have taken some inspiration from the 17th century." He most definitely did. His wardrobe has never been quite as flashy since then.

"You know angel," Crowley mutters, slinking forward to join him on his side of the room, "Dressed like that, you're just asking for trouble."

Crowley's fingers traced teasingly over his arm and down the length of it to his hand, where they stole the wine bottle from his grip, bringing it to their lips with a sly grin. After taking another sip, their head tilts to face Aziraphale, pressing the bottle back into his arms.

"You really should know better."

At first, Aziraphale watches them with no particular thought in mind. But then there's just something in their tone, and the way they run their fingers over his arm, and, for a couple of seconds, the angel doesn't know quite what to do, watching them and that mischievous look in their eyes.

Bottle back in his hands, he gives them a bit of a look. "I'm plenty sure I'm done with any kind of trouble."

Crowley frowns, sighing with a little shake of their head. "That's no fun, angel." they mutter, leaning a bit against him.

"Unavoidable, I'm afraid." Crowley waves him off, trying to look nonplussed by what felt like rejection. "Trouble comes with the territory."

There's a clear bit os miscommunication that flies right over Aziraphale's head, but the angel seems happy enough to have the demon that close.

"What territory?" As he takes the moment to take another sip, the pleasant buzz having just grown stronger. He has them the bottle again, although there's not much left.

"Bringing me as your date tonight, obviously." Crowley replies, taking the bottle and bringing it to their lips, the frown at the little sip that's left, then reach over the angel to place it on the table beside him once its gone.

"We've run out of wine." the demon sighs, "Whatever will we do now?"

For a moment, Aziraphale sits there, thinking about the question and all possible answers. And the one that he apparently chooses comes as a snap of the fingers, and a second, full bottle, now sat next to the empty one. He did, in fact, figured that this would be much less bothersome than getting up and going all the way to the kitchen and back again.

"Resume our evening, of course." He picks the bottle off the table, and a wave over the top of it has it open. Someone's clearly running on free miracles these days.

"And, for what it's worth," He pauses to take a quick sip, then hands them the new bottle. "I don't think you're that much trouble."

"You flatter me, angel." they reply, taking the bottle graciously and tossing it back for a satisfying sip. After they hand it back, their fingers linger a bit on the angel's arm, tracing over the applique on his jacket.

"This really does suit you, you know." they start, their tone a bit less cheeky than before, and a hint sweeter. "I had a lovely time... almost forgot we were trapped on a bloody train."

He turns his head to look at them, as the moment seems to fall into something a bit quieter, a bit calmer. Perhaps it's the wine. Perhaps it's the overwhelming darkness outside the window. Maybe its just how close they're both sitting.

"So did I." He answers more quietly, near a murmur. He rests the bottle on his leg this time, watching their hand. "Perhaps we...could have another dance, sometime."

Crowley smiles, reaching again for the bottle, but placing it over on the table, out of the way.

"We could, you know." they murmur, taking one of the angel's hands in theirs, "I know there aren't speakers in this car, but we don't really need the music, do we?"

"No music?" With the bottle out of the way and the haziness of the bottles they put away parting slightly for a few seconds, he finds he has a flutter feeling in his stomach again. He looks at their hands joined together, as they've been, in some way, shape or form, for most of the evening.

"... I suppose we don't." As he takes hold of their hand.

Crowley stands then, tugging encouragingly at Aziraphale's arms to get him to stand. Once there, those long arms of theirs snake around his neck again, tugging him very close.

Crowley snaps their fingers behind his head, dimming the lights a touch, setting the mood.

"Is this okay?" they ask softly with a smile.

Just like that, they're standing again, in this tiny room, no one else around them, no voices, no distractions, only each other and the nothing.

The fluttery feeling is stronger than ever when Crowley pulls him close. That smile, the dimming of the lights. This time, he can see their golden eyes. It's about as overwhelming as he imagined.

"Yes." He answers after a couple of seconds of just regarding them. He then smiles faintly, bringing his hand to their sides again.

Without a snap of fingers, a wave of a hand, or even a blink, with no gesture to mark it, music starts playing from somewhere impossible, quietly as not to disturb the scene.

"Changed my mind about the music." He remembers it well enough. There's a cheeky glint to his eye, soft as his look may be.

Crowley's breath catches as their eyes meet without the masks obscuring them, and their head tilts up in surprise as the music surrounds them, looking about the room for a moment before settling into it again, gaze resting back onto Aziraphale's with a fond smile.

"I can tell..." Crowley replies teasingly, but their voice is still soft and quiet as they begin to sway. The two of them slightly drunk, alone, dancing in a dark room with such beautiful accompaniment... it's enough that Crowley feels their heart pounding through their chest, and maybe just enough that the demon gets a little carried away, one of their hands creeping up the back of Aziraphale's neck and into his hairline while Crowley bends down to seek out his lips.

Is it them getting carrying away, this? Or the this whole scene, perhaps, with the costumes, the whine, the locked door, the music. The evening of dancing and talking and holding each other's arm in a silly little party, ignoring their overall situation for once?

Maybe it is. And Aziraphale sure feels that fluttery feeling so much stronger, feels his heart race, all those feelings they have no justifiable reason to have, and yet...

His look softens even more as Crowley's hand moves to the back of his neck. He glances at their lips as they move closer. And, finally, he closes his eyes, leaning up to meet them in a kiss.

Crowley's lips press to Aziraphale's sweet and open, their hand gripping at the back of the angel's head carefully. Crowley doesn't break it for a long moment, until they feel it's necessary to whisper against his lips. "You are so wonderful."

Crowley feels more drunk than they actually are, their head flooded with emotions that they don't know how to break down and comprehend. Aziraphale has kissed them before, and they've shared moments together and held one another for comfort, but there was never any sort of feelings discussed or labels attached. Those all seemed like very human things to do, which is perhaps why Crowley felt they wanted those things at all.

Perhaps it is in the human nature of these things that lie the answers for why they're still so new, why that even after they were both free from their former respective head offices, they didn't quite know how to thread through this sort of thing. No matter the amount of observation of human affairs, or the reading or hearing of stories around the topic. Maybe it's been Aziraphale's hesitancy, or fear, or indecision.

There's something about this moment though, and the one they shared back in the islands, one among many. When everything is quiet and it's just the two of them ignoring everything else. They had many of those, along the millenia. He never thought they could turn into this, before.

So many things can becon so many others. Maybe it's the need to see the lines, any lines. Maybe it's the wine. Maybe, for once, it's really just him.

"Crowley, I..." he starts, barely above a whisper. He feels like there's something he should say. Wants to say. He feels like he knows what those words are, now.

New isn't really the right word, is it? Crowley's felt things for a very long time, just never been able to articulate them. It's beyond that, because the demon has never felt these things with anyone else, never been able to properly explore them like this before, and it's been a barrier preventing them from coming to terms with those feelings entirely.

Aziraphale speaks, but there's hesitation there. Crowley wants to fill in the blanks but is so afraid to, in case they're assumptions or hopes that aren't fulfilled, and they are hurt by it again. Dangerous thing to do, making assumptions. Instead, Crowley's hand slides forward to the angel's cheek, their thumb grazing over the corner of his cheekbone.

"Yes, angel?"

There's no more barriers, only the phantom feeling of something that's been there for so very long. He wasn't even aware of them for most of his existence, and when he was able to see them, he didn't question their presence. But they're gone now, have been gone, and he's free to walk through. They both are.

He doesn't quite meet their eye just then, for it might be too overwhelming, but he brings one of his hands over the back of theirs, tilting his head slightly towards the touch. The words are right there, on the tip of his tongue. He could just say them. He should just say them.

But he won't just say them. "This time, after...after everything that's happened," Armageddon, trials, islands, train, and everything before that, for good measure. "It's difficult to put into words just how everything's--well, changed, in recent times." He looks up at them, and there's less of a drunken haze in his eyes, but something a bit more focused, if nervous. "Barely had time to breathe. But...I'm very glad to have you by my side."

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