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]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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."

Crowley's expression is soft, the words not exactly what they thought the angel might say, but nice to hear, regardless. In the end it wasn't heaven or hell that Crowley chose to be with or to fight for, it was just Aziraphale. Nothing else mattered.

"Me too," the demon murmured, pulling Aziraphale's face to their chest and holding tight, but not before pressing another kiss to the top of his head. Crowley's face stayed buried there in the downy soft hair, breathing in his scent.

"Your side is the only one I'd ever like to be on."

Edited (aaaaaaaaaAAAA) 2020-06-16 23:10 (UTC)

Nobody else has ever made Aziraphale feel quite as...safe? Protected. Appreciated, not for what he is, but by who he is. Nobody else that knew of his true nature as an angel ever really bothered. They don't do that, is the thing, they don't make such connections, they all work for a Higher Power, a Higher Goals, the Greater Good, and in the growing distance from that, he met the only other individual he could ever truly relate to.

Look at them now.

He's pulled against the demon in such a tender embrace, he could swear it sobers him up without his input. His cheeks flush, his face feels hot, and he can smell Crowley's perfume so much more clearly.

He wraps his arms gently around the demon. His eyes are closed. The words finally topple out, not gracefully, not at all, but they do, daunting and terrifying, but no less true.

"I...I love you, Crowley."

It doesn't matter what they'd done together up until this point, because upon hearing those words, Crowley feels like time stands still. Their breath is caught in their throat, heart rattling in its cage just beneath where the angel lay his head. It feels like a century has passed before the demon has the courage to move, pulling themselves back from Aziraphale so that they can meet his eyes, the angel's head held firm in their hands.

"What did you just say?" Crowley croaks, their voice cracking, their eyes blown wide and seemingly wet. Crowley wants to make sure they weren't just hearing things, too drunk and overcome by their own emotions to have a grip on reality. Too afraid to say it back, in case they heard it wrong. But the demon can't wait to, and they close their eyes, trying to blink away the water accumulating inside them, as well as trying to remember to breathe. "Say it again... please." they continue, voice ragged and desperate.

When Crowley pulls back first without responding, Aziraphale gets the immediate impression that he did something wrong. That he said it wrong, at the wrong time, that he got the wrong impression, that it was wrong. It's a lot of ways to think something as simple as words and as heavy as these are wrong, in a mere couple of seconds.

But he sees the look in Crowley's eyes, how they reflect the dim light. Their hands are still on the angel's head and he isn't quite sure what that means. The music misses a few notes and plays entirely out of pace.

"I, hum." He stutters. But it isn't wrong. Can't be wrong. It's not. The time is right. As right as it could ever be. The words are right. He's said it. He's said it.

This time, he holds their gaze. "--I love you."

Crowley exhales. Maybe for the first time since they'd heard it, their breathing harsh as they bend down again, pressing their lips to Aziraphale's briefly, then to each cheek, over and over again.

"I love you," they say, their voice still cracking and sounding anything but cool, "Angel, I've loved you for so very long."

Their fingers slide into his hair, stroking it gently as they press their foreheads together, feeling like they could float away at any moment.

The barrage of kisses is good enough an answer to confirm for the angel that the message was well recieved. He could swear there's a while impossible swarm of butterflies in his belly at this point, as he feels both weak at the knee and overwhelmingly giddy about this development.

He said it. They said it. They're standing here as two people who've said these words and can say those words and mean it. And nobody can stop them. Nobody ever could.

He holds onto their arms, a very gentle grip, and he smiles. "Oh, my dear, I should've said it sooner, I-" But now isn't the time for apologies. They should have their place, sometime soon perhaps, but, right now, it's a celebration. "I love you so very much." He said it again. He can say it more times. Oh, it's thrilling.

Crowley can't keep from grinning ear to ear, their entire body buzzing in excitement hearing their angel's confessions of love over and over again. They press another excited kiss to Aziraphale's lips, their hands sliding down to wrap around him and hold him close, tempted to lift him off of his feet.

"I don't care, angel, you've said it now," they reply, in their own means of forgiveness, tugging him close. Crowley is a mess of emotions, happiness and love with an undercurrent of unworthiness and self-doubt, feeling they try to push aside so that they can linger in the moment, the angel's love and acceptance breaking down Crowley's barriers. It's dizzying, and Crowley takes a step back, tugging Aziraphale along, hoping the two can collapse on the bench together and just hold each other like this until they're inevitably returned to their own separate beds.

Aziraphale could swear he feels lighter. Not that the laws of physics are always necessarily applicable to those of celestial nature, but, still, the feeling is there, somewhere significant.

He clumsily moves along as Crowley pulls him, barely trying to pull away just enough to see where they're going, so the both of them can sit, and then so he can press a kiss on their lips too. And when he looks at them with pure joy in his eyes and can't figure out the right words to say, he kisses them again.

"Oh..." He presses his forehead against theirs again, a hand resting on their shoulder. "It's been quite the evening." He chuckles out the understatement of the century.

Crowley takes their seat carefully, beckoning the angel to join them in another evening of snuggling up to one another, basking in their affections. Each kiss makes Crowley's heart beat faster, and the demon feels shaky from it.

"And here I thought it couldn't get any lovelier..." Crowley coos, pressing a kiss to the angel's hand as it's in theirs, and nuzzling close.

Aziraphale's face still feels warm, and he gently grips Crowley's hand in his. He's still reeling from what just happened, and he certainly has no intention of leaving this room, or even this seat, anytime soon. He knows there'll be a time of morning where they'll have no choice about that, but, until then, he's sticking close to the demon.

He sighs, happy and content, though his mind still buzzes with excitement. "I suppose the party wasn't so bad, after all."

Crowley drops Aziraphale's hand from theirs to cup again at his jaw, murmuring against him. "Afterparty was much better, in my opinion."

They seek out the angel's lips again, kissing them with a deep and passionate desire they might have held back from before. It's different now, of course, Crowley feels safe in his arms, secure in their feelings for him.

Aziraphale is surprised-- well, surprised might be too strong a word, as he certainly isn't startled when Crowley kisses him in such a way, and his eyes soon flutter closed as he leans into the kiss.

So many words at once, but no idea where to start. If a picture is worth a thousand words, how much is a gesture, and how much is a kiss shared between two entities that have orbited each other for millennia?

Unsure but tentative, careful hands reach over to wrap gentle arms around the demon.

Lips parting welcomingly, the demon keens softly into their kiss and the feeling of those strong arms holding them securely. If they could just stay wrapped in those arms for the rest of eternity, just like this, they'd be more than happy, even if they weren't on their own earth.

Crowley is already dreading the start of the day, the moment when all of the evening's magic is over and they're in separate beds. Will it be awkward, waking in a room with two strangers in the beds beside theirs? What do they call Aziraphale to others, now? Does the addition of admittance of love result in a change of title? Crowley has so many questions, typical for the demon, but for now they aren't in a rush to ask. Right now, all they want is Aziraphale's touch. And maybe a bit more wine... to celebrate, of course.

He's forgotten the music now, though, if asked, he'd probably say that he still heard it, somewhere. Any step he takes comes with polite uncertainty and more than enough time to be stopped, even though it's never quite been on the demon to put the breaks to any of this. Maybe, mostly, the tentativeness of the gestures are for himself.

The gentle hold around the demon turns a bit more sure, but no less gentle. The kiss turns a bit deeper, more certain. He does dread the morning, too, now that they're this close, and he finds himself not wanting to part, not yet, not anytime soon. They've been sharing a kind of closeness he had never experienced, even before tonight, but this...this is different now, somehow.

After a bit, he pulls away from the kiss with a very quiet gasp, but always holds them, onto them, noses sweetly against their cheek. "Should we stay here?" He murmurs, as if he doesn't know the answer.

Crowley whines softly as Aziraphale pulls back, but his question is so sweet that the demon gets over it quickly, their hand reaching up to pet at his soft hair.

"Would you like that?" they ask with the smallest smile, leaning into the touch upon their cheek, seeking warmth. "I certainly wouldn't mind having you all to myself until morning, if that makes any difference."

"I would rather like it, yes." He answers with unnecessary levels of politeness, a bit above the usual. He doesn't like that there's a set stop to the evening beyond their control, but there's not much he can do about that.

Still, he smiles against their cheek and brushes a small kiss, before pulling back enough to be able to see their face. "If only this moment could last forever."

Aziraphale's polite demeanor is charming, as always, and as he pulls back, Crowley frowns sympathetically, their hand sliding down his cheek and touching gently at his chin before pulling away.

"I wish I could make it last for you." they say, craving the same, "There's always tomorrow, I suppose."

Crowley leans back, not pulling themselves out of the angel's arms, but freeing one of theirs enough to fetch the wine from the table. "Would you like more to drink, angel? I believe the occasion calls for a toast."

He feels the urge to follow after that gentle touch, so enamored by it and by the whole moment.

Watching them reach for the bottle, the angel smiles, practically radiating the giddiness he feels about this step they've taken. He doesn't entirely know the way forward, if something changes, if they just solidified what they knew, what else is there to discuss, but, right now, he's very happy just to celebrate.

He pulls one of his arms away, but the other stays around his demon. "I do believe you're right." And, with a snap of his fingers, he's holding two wine glasses, necessary tools for a proper toast.

"Ah, why thank you, angel." they say coyly, taking one of the glasses so that they can pour for each of them. Crowley pours generously, then sets the bottle to the side, on the ground.

"Cheers, angel." Crowley continues, holding their glass for a toast and settling into his arm again, their own slipping back around his neck.

Something veritably amuses him about how casual a gesture this feels, about something, about things that would have sent him into a panic if he even allowed himself to think about them too deeply, less than a year ago. Their lives have taken ridiculous turns, even as the creatures they are, but if they could take more turns like this one, why, that would be swell.

He holds up his glass and goes to respond, then stops. A thought ocurrs that amuses him enough to huff out a laugh, and his face softens into a sweet smile.

"...to the world?" He looks at Crowley with that gentle, but amusement tinted smile,remembering the lunch they had been sharing at the Ritz.

The world isn't exactly what Crowley had in mind, considering they are very much between worlds, as it were. A smile creeps across their face and Crowley too laughs softly, the hand around Aziraphale's neck petting at the hair there.

"At this risk of sounding very cheesy, angel... you are my world."

Party Time

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