logsinthenight | EVENT LOG: BURY A FRIEND

EVENT LOG: BURY A FRIEND

characters: everyone.
location: around town.
date/time: october 9-17.
content: the hallucinations begin...
warnings: psychological horror. please cw tags appropriately.

it's probably something that shouldn't be said out loud

October 9 feels like a normal day at first, save for the red lighthouse beam cutting through the darkness overhead. You know by now—or you've heard—that the lighthouse is only active during ferry arrivals and events... And there's definitely no ferry docked at the, er. Beach. The town is quiet, the forest spirits behave business-as-usual, Rastus doesn't know what's up. Whatever's going on, you'll have to figure it out for yourself.

And you will, though the hallucinations are subtle at first: objects moving when they shouldn't, people's proportions looking just a bit off, voices in an empty room, and so on. Is it just your mind playing tricks in the darkness? Might be! Will did warn you all about the effects of living without a sun and a proper day/night cycle.

As the days go on, the hallucinations are harder to ignore, no matter how much you may wish to wave them off as flukes. What's wrong with everyone's faces? When did all the howling start? Who do you hold onto when the world drops out from under you? And those hands...

While you might know it can't be real, it certainly feels real. But at least it can't last forever!

...Right?

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Oh?

[ Aziraphale is much better at this, and even as he plays with Crowley's neckline, grins and trains his eyes on Crowley's lips, he says: ]

Even if I wanted to feed you and read to you?

[ He is inching his way closer, but he stops, close enough for his breath to ghost over Crowley's mouth. ]

How do you feel about poetry?

[Oh my God Aziraphale is so much better than Crowley is at this.

Not that he was the best at tempting when it came to Lust, always so much better at letting humans figure it out on their own.

And he's never wanted it himself.

He stays perfectly still.]

I love poetry.

[ So close to him now, Aziraphale says: ]

Here is the secret nobody knows... The root of the root and the bud of the bud, and the sky of the sky of a tree called life which grows higher than soul can hope or mind can hide. And this is the wonder that keeps the stars apart: I carry your heart; I carry it in my heart.

[ And with that, he presses a kiss, soft and inquisitive, top Crowley's patient, waiting lips. ]

[Ah, EE Cummings. While Crowley always states he never reads, one of his loves has always been poetry. It's a passion, and one he's kept pretty quiet because, well, it's sort of lame, isn't it? Can't exactly saunter around with a poetry book in hand.

But a moment like this? He feels like he's very, very prepared. He murmurs against the angel's lips]

At the touch of you, as if you were an archer with your swift hand at the bow, the arrows of delight shot through my body.

[He kisses Aziraphale again.]

[ He isn't expecting a poem in return so he delights in it, smiling into Crowley's lips and pulling him close and over top of himself, carding his hand through his hair as their lips catch and slide against each other's.

Aziraphale feels dizzy with it, momentarily breathless, though he needs to remember that he doesn't require breath. His heart flutters madly against his ribcage as he breaks the kiss and catches Crowley's gaze. ]

[Crowley looks down at him. Oh, the millenia he's dreamt of kissing the angel. Of being held by him, of being close to him. This is---well, it's pretty unbelievable, actually. It seems like it was only yesterday that they'd just learned how to hold hands. And now there's this.

Another poem? Definitely time for another poem.]

I like your smile, I like your class, but most of all---

[Smirk]

I like your ass.

[ Aziraphale frowns at him, but just in a mildly exasperated way. ]

Is that so? Have you been looking, my dear?

[ He raises an eyebrow in curiosity. ]

[Has he been looking? Has he been looking? Has the angel not noticed the times Crowley has simply stared at him across the room, or watched him while he just sat there, existing?

Maybe Crowley didn't make himself clear. Maybe now is the time to make himself very clear.]

Only for the last six thousand years, angel.

[ Oh. Well, that floors him a bit. ]

--Surely not all that time.

[ He's half-joking, but also looking to Crowley for an answer. ]

[Crowley raises an eyebrow]

I wasn't looking at your ass the whole time, yes.

[But at you? Yes.]

Edited 2019-10-19 02:21 (UTC)

[ But he has been looking six thousand years.

Aziraphale takes Crowley's face in his hands. ]

My dear boy.

[ His smile is so incandescent it's a wonder Beacon hasn't lit up. ]

Kiss me.

[Certainly don't have to tell Crowley twice.

He leans down and presses his mouth to Aziraphale's, shutting his eyes to savor the moment, the sensation of kissing the person he's adored---loved if he's honest with himself---for all of these years.

Take that, "move slower".]

[ Aziraphale hooks his bad hand over Crowley's neck and then leans back on the bed, drawing Crowley over him. Hair spread out among the pillow in tight curls, he looks up at Crowley with sweet, curious eyes. ]

We don't have to talk about this, do we?

[Crowley leans down to press a kiss to Aziraphale's jaw. And another to his neck.

How long had it been since he'd first wanted to do that?]

I thought the point was to not talk?

Yes. Of course. No talking, you're completely right.

[ He says, in that voice that says, we should probably have a conversation.

But he does at least try to close his eyes and get lost in the moment. Crowley even manages to elicit a gasp. ]

[Oh, no. They're going to have to talk, aren't they?

And just when Crowley had learned how to make lovely little gasps like that one come out of Aziraphale? Damn. Double damn.

He sighs, and moves back so he's looking down at the angel.]

Talk?

No, no-- I liked the kissing bit. Let's do the kissing bit.

[ He doesn't sound very convincing and he knows it. ]

--It's just.

Perhaps, I think, I should explain that I've been looking your way, too. And I've been such a coward, I thought... well, we'd be careless, quite frankly. And then what would have happened to us?

And I. Wish I had been as brave as you were.

[ He takes Crowley's hand in his, and kisses his knuckles. ]

So you were worried we'd do something stupid? To be honest, angel, that's pretty fair considering it's us you're talking about. Even in death we can't be exactly competent in our plans.

[his eyes follow his hands where the angel is kissing his knuckles. It's such a simple gesture, such a sweet and intimate gesture, it really floors him.]

No one can find us here, you said? We're totally cut off from Heaven and Hell here?

Well, yes, I'm worried constantly about us doing something stupid, but-- I think, when it comes to this. That, if we return home, I don't know that I can take this back.

[ He brings Crowley's hand to his cheek. ]

But no. No, I don't think they can see us here.

[ He turns his cheek and presses a kiss into Crowley's palm. ]

[The thought hadn't occurred to Crowley when he kissed Aziraphale. The thought that they'd have to go back to the way it was before. They'd have to be arm's length apart again to protect themselves. They couldn't have this because----well, because---]

Why can't we?

Why would we have to take this back when we get back?

[ It's this moment that it really sinks in; if they return to Earth, they will both be targets, regardless of whether or not Heaven and Hell suspect them of fraternizing. ]

We... don't have to.

[ It feels like a weight lifted off his shoulders. His face softens with a smile spreading, and at the very ends, he scrunches his nose in excitement. ]

We don't have to pretend anymore.

They've already killed us once.

[he traces his fingertips down Aziraphale's face, past where he scrunches his nose up in that bizarre and adorable way to show he's excited.]

They can't pull us apart again.

No.

[ And this also settles his nerves over whether Crowley thinks this is a temporary arrangement. He should've been tipped off by the six thousand years. ]

I wouldn't let them, if they tried.

We still have to get back.

[Not that Crowley isn't suddenly finding some reasons to like being here.

Just not the part where his friend and him are hallucinating every five minutes]

Yes.

Tomorrow, dear. We can talk about that tomorrow, isn't that what we agreed?

[ He can't even properly distract Crowley for one night.

He ghosts a finger over Crowley's hip. ]

Won't do if this doesn't heal.

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