you're a sky full of stars | closed

[lunchbreaks]

characters: Aziraphale and Crowley
location: At the park
date/time: 9/18 for lunch
content: A long overdue picnic, with a surprise meteor shower
warnings: Y'all it's gonna be cute. Hiss hiss fall in love.

Aziraphale had spent the last two days off and on making a spread for the picnic that he'd promised he'd take Crowley on before their little boat hijacking plot, so the fact that there were falling stars everywhere was just a nice little bonus. "Ah," he had said, as they headed out, straw basket full of goodies with a gingham blanket covering it tucked under one arm. "I wonder what that's all about."

Now, on the dark green lawn of the park, somewhere by the pagoda with the ice cream cart in plain view, Aziraphale throws the blanket open and places a rock on one corner and a bottle of wine on the other to weigh it down. He pulls out a few wrapped cheeses, some crackers, dried apricots, walnuts he'd cracked himself that morning, extremely terribly made pork pies, and eton mess that had, at one point, aspirations as a pavlova.

And, of course, some awful red table wine that would taste better once poured, as long as Aziraphale got to touch it first. "It is beautiful," he remarks, looking up at the sky. "Were you in the Americas for the Leonid storm in 1833? I was. It's a bit like that."

Comments

[sauntered_downward]

Crowley goes very still. He feels Aziraphale pressing their palms together. Touching. He and Aziraphale rarely touched before this town, and now he finds himself touching the angel so much, so regularly. There are so many ways he wants to touch Aziraphale.

But there are boundaries. There are rules that the angel set up when he told him that he was moving too fast, and Crowley has been strict in adhering to them. Not too fast, not moving without Aziraphale's express permission.

But what does this mean, this touch?

[lunchbreaks]

Of course, Aziraphale has noticed that ever since their little conversation, Crowley has cooled off a bit, so to speak. But, in true fashion of being oblivious to his own actions, he'd only started to wonder around the late 90s if perhaps Crowley had gotten just a little gunshy.

He moves his hand just enough to link their pinkies together, to let Crowley know he means this deliberately.

Perhaps they could stand to communicate a little more transparently, but this was enough for Aziraphale. If they were to be destroyed right now, he thinks, it would be enough.

[sauntered_downward]

Crowley could do to say something in this moment. Hell, there are probably sonnets and poems and ballads he could say in this moment and it wouldn't cover the full extent of what he could do to say. After all, this is him and Aziraphale, and they're on a date and now they are touching again and and and---

He often considers himself a coward, but in many ways he can be brave. He can walk right into churches and Heaven and anywhere else when he needs to. But when it comes to emotions, he's definitely a coward through and through.

He curls his pinky just a little, to move it closer to Aziraphale's. Just a very, very tiny gesture.

[lunchbreaks]

Aziraphale could fluff up his chest feathers if he had any, he's so very chuffed with this minuscule movement. He does think about being bolder, considers resting his head on Crowley's shoulder, or lying down next to him and curling up under his arm.

But they're to be headed home soon, and it would be a terrible thing to indulge in any of this now only to have to put a pause on it for the next decade, at least, until they fix everything a second time.

And yet, there's a thought in the back of his mind clawing for the spotlight, asking him: if not now, when?

Certainly not now, he responds to himself in a louder voice, covering his face with wine glass. "Not terrible," he remarks, though his taste buds are slightly compromised.

[sauntered_downward]

"It's actually not bad," Crowley agrees, taking a sip himself. "Far better than the Chardonnay."

It would be so easy, to just curl his hand the rest of the way around Aziraphale's, or to slip a hand over his shoulder. Or to press his lips to the angel's head, or to---But no. No, he can already imagine the angel's careful protest, the look of discomfort, or worse, pity.

This, this little touch, it's enough. It has to be enough.

[lunchbreaks]

It's enough because they're about to embark on a dangerous journey leading to another dangerous journey.

And they might-- they might not come back from either of them, Aziraphale thinks, so why not?

But they might come back from both, he also thinks, so now is a terrible time.

"Not as good as real wine, but as we can't have any. That'll be the first thing we do when we get back," he says. Yes, they could celebrate.

[sauntered_downward]

"Dinner at the Ritz?" he offers. He remembers Aziraphale saying, once, that they should go. "Get you those little cakes they make?"

This has to work. Stealing the ferry has to work. They have to get away. He has to get Aziraphale back where he belongs.

[lunchbreaks]

"Dinner at the Ritz would be lovely, dear. I'll have one of every cake they're serving the night we return." And then he'll go back to Crowley's apartment, and they can continue on the celebrations the way they always had.

"You'll have to have some with me, now that you eat."

[sauntered_downward]

"Do you think I still will, when we get back?" he asks, turning to look at the angel. "Do you think we'll still need to sleep and eat and...all the things we do here?"

Will Aziraphale still let him occasionally sleep next to him? That wouldn't make any sense back in their home world, would it? They don't even live anywhere near each other.

[lunchbreaks]

"No, I don't think so. Depends on the bodies we end up in, I suppose. Since I hardly think they'll let us keep these ones! But I suppose we might still have to, like this. Oh, you'll get used to it. And I'll get used to sleeping."

He would discover that it was much harder without Crowley being next to him, if that were the case.

[sauntered_downward]

"Suppose these are just different sort of corporations," he agrees. "Besides, it's not so bad. Eating. Sleeping is always great. Big fan of sloth, me. Gluttony's always been a bit down on the list, apart from wine."

[lunchbreaks]

"Hardly think you're one foe most of the deadly sins, really. Pride, perhaps. Wrath, definitely. Not so much the rest." Not so much worse than the rest of them - angel or human.

"This was a good picnic," he remarks.

[sauntered_downward]

Crowley looks down at the wine in his hands, at the way that they're still touching, very slightly, then back up at the stars.

He supposes they won't have another day like this, not for a very long time.

"What do you want to do next?" he asks.

[lunchbreaks]

"Oh, I don't know. Stare at the stars some more, I suppose." He looks at Crowley, a little distractedly, his words trailing.

"What do you think?"

[sauntered_downward]

"Whatever you want," he replies, because that's his favorite sort of answer for the angel. He looks at Aziraphale as well.

He feels like he should say something else right now, but he can't.

[lunchbreaks]

His mouth suddenly feels very dry, despite the fact that they've been drinking this entire time, and he very nearly takes Crowley's glasses, but remembers that they're in public.

"Perhaps... we should take a walk around town? Would be a shame to waste the view."

Aziraphale was not one to prolong dates. He was, in fact, rather the one to chase Crowley out of his bookshop and say that he had business the next morning and he still needed to get some work done and wouldn't they be able to talk some other time perhaps.

But he doesn't want to push Crowley away, today.

[sauntered_downward]

Crowley is extremely grateful for it. He's used to the angel pushing him away gently, shooing him off when he's been a bit too much, or moving too fast, or hanging around when he needs his space. He's always given him what he needs. Being told that he can stay longer is, well, it feels a bit like a gift.

"We'll come back for the blanket?" he offers, moving to his feet. He offers Aziraphale his hand.

[lunchbreaks]

"If it gets stolen, I'm sure it'll turn up," he says, taking Crowley's hand and nearly dragging him backwards as he tries to stand up.

He brushes off any crumbs that might've fallen on his clothes, and actually does go pack up the basket. They'll be back for it.

[sauntered_downward]

"Who would steal a picnic blanket?" Crowley says. "That seems like----of all the things to steal in this damned town, there's a whole bloody store that would be easier to loot..."

He watches Aziraphale pack everything up, and thinks, idly, of how different they are. He would've easily just left everything out. Cared about it later, thought of it as future Crowley's problem. Aziraphale cares about it now.

[lunchbreaks]

"Haven't seen another picnic basket in town, and it is a nice blanket," he responds, looping his arm into Crowley's as they walk.

"Lovely day for this, really. And you know, if it weren't dark, we wouldn't be able to see any of this." Always looking on the bright side.

[sauntered_downward]

"True," Crowley says, glancing back up at the sky. He gives it a brief gesture upwards. "Did you ever build any of them? Any of the stars?"

He never really asked what Aziraphale did before Eden. It was always about their life on Earth. Their life then, not before.

[lunchbreaks]

"No," Aziraphale responds. "I didn't build anything. She handed me a sword and said to fight, and I did. Trained the whole time before the war, instead of creating. I think you and the others had done most of it anyway, by the time I was created."

He hadn't been terribly old, as an Angel, though it was hard to tell, since it was before time was invented.

[sauntered_downward]

"Hmm," Crowley says, noncomittally. He looks up at the falling stars. "Hard to think of a time without the Earth."

Earth was home. Earth was where the people were, where the wine was, where Aziraphale was. He didn't want to think of a universe without Aziraphale.

"If we can only get one of us back," he says. "I want it to be you, angel. I want you to go back and stop it."

[lunchbreaks]

In his shock, Aziraphale tears his arm away from Crowley, and stares at him with wide eyes.

He pauses as if trying to discern if Crowley has just told a very unfunny joke.

"No," he says, determined. "Absolutely not, no, Crowley. You can't possibly. No."

[sauntered_downward]

"I can survive here, angel, I can make it in the dark," he says. "But you deserve to get back. You'll figure out a way to free me from there."

He thinks about Rosalind, about her plan with the portal. She might only be able to send through a few, or even only one person. And she owes Crowley a favor. He could make it that she sends Aziraphale through.