middaeg | (catch-all)(closed) the days don't stop coming

( the crown of aziraphale's head is messy from the earlier transformation. the strands of hair around his new ears are varying colours of red, a mixture of blood that had already dried and what was still fresh. it seems to look worse than it actually is. while the skin around his ears was still inflamed and sore, the wounds around the base of the ears were fairly thin. almost as if it had already healed over itself some.

he mostly needed a wash.

aziraphale already knew that part, however he had already resigned himself to letting crowley look as much as he wanted. although, he does wonder if he should expect an examination of his back to see around the tail as well. )

What do you see?

( because he still needs to ask. in case he's wrong and he just can't feel how bad it actually is. )

Probably need to wash this off a little to get a good look.

[ Just in case the dried blood is hiding something. He presses his lips together, unhappy, then leans over to grab up a cloth. ]

I'll be careful.

[ A reassurance, even though that's a given. Aziraphale is nervous. Crowley just wants to help, truly. He wets the cloth with warm water, glancing over for signs of protest. Perhaps he might dislike the idea of Crowley doing this, after all, might feel it's somehow too far over his comfort line. ]

( this entire thing is over aziraphale's comfort line, but he is enduring it nonetheless. there are no signs of protest to be read from either his face or his body language, nothing more than resigned acceptance. this is going to happen, it is going to happen now, and he has agreed to it for the sake of everyone's piece of mind. )

Do as you need.

( he remarks, fingers curling into the material of his night pants. )

Just tell me before you disinfect anything.

( he doesn't want to be surprised by anything. he's not sure what may happen if he is. he's already seen that he could bite underneath duress. he doesn't need to find out how else he might react. )

'Course, angel.

[ He slips to stand to one side, begins gently wetting reddened patches of hair with warm water.

His hands are quaking a little.

Absently, Crowley realises he isn't sure why. Adrenaline? Fear response? Exhaustion? Stress? Something else?

He stops, swallows and lets one hand slide down Aziraphale's side, drifts it to cover a set of fingers latched into his night shirt. ]

Does it still hurt?

No, no. It's fine.

( the answer probably comes a little too quickly to be believable, but it is true. there's something of a dull ache around his head and his back, but nothing that he would classify as hurting. just present, just a lingering feeling to remind him of the way his body is slowly becoming something foul.

crowley, however, seems to be a little worse off. he doesn't seem steady now that he's on his feet and there is a tremble to the hand that he places over his own. had he missed it until now? was it because of him? )

Are you. . . Are you alright?

( he unhooks his fingers from his pants, turning his hand over to gently hold crowley's hand in his. )

[ Is he alright?

In what world is any of this alright? ]

We're both bleeding, angel. Not really alright, is it?

[ Nnngh. All of this is too much. Far too much. He squeezes the hand holding his, frowns at the red patches of hair as if they're making him cross. They are. He wants to fix them. ]

No.

( it's not. he knows that it isn't, but he would like for it to be or at least one of them to be some semblance of alright. it's already been a long and stressful night and they both had to live with the reality of what had happened earlier.

his fingers tighten around crowley's hand as he moves to look up at him. )

I'm sorry.

( because he still needs to say it once more. )

Don't apologise. Not your fault.

[ Not really. He'd been angry, of course, but it was anger borne of frustration. Frustration because he wanted help. Help he'd wanted to give because he cared.

All really came back to that, didn't it. ]

I know it's a bloody stupid place, and I know this is bad, but --

[ Ugh. He's not built for expressing this stuff. Crowley wets his lips nervously, squeezes Aziraphale's hand to try and reassure them both again. ]

Don't push me away, Aziraphale. I want us to do this together, yeah? To be together. All we've got is each other. Always been like that. We're better together, you and me.

( it's not the pressure of crowley's fingers around his that helps ease some of the tension laced tightly in aziraphale's bones, but the simple statements he makes about wanting to remain together. don't push me away, he says despite the obvious wound on his shoulder from earlier. both of them knew that it wasn't impossible for it to happen again, that he might very well bite crowley again or perhaps worse and yet still.

still crowley has the nerve to say things like this.

one of his ear flicks as aziraphale tries to find the words to answer him. )

I—

( he begins, quickly growing quiet again. his grip on crowley's hand tightens a little further, nearly clutching at him. )

Yes. I do want you here. I do, Crowley. I would rather us be together and remain together. I have always thought it a blessing that we have at least been able to live together here.

( he means that. he has failed to say as much, but he has truly been grateful for the opportunity to be as close to crowley as he has been lately. it's been a nice experience to live in the same home, to know that they'd return to the same place each night, and to be able to so generously spend time together.

the catch, of course, is that he is becoming a monster. it scares aziraphale, especially now when he's already crossed a line.

he reaches out with his other hand, placing his palm against the minute curve of crowley's shoulder. )

I just don't want to hurt you any further.

( he can't live with it. )

I know, love. I know you don't.

[ Want to hurt him, that is. ]

We'll work it out, you and me. Read some more books on this. Lots of books in this place, bound to be something yeah? Maybe -- maybe we just need to be bonded longer, or do something to make the bond a little stronger or something. Maybe I need to do something. Not been very good at the whole witch thing, if I'm honest. Should probably try a little harder. Maybe it'd help, if I did. Maybe it'd help you.

[ Guilt gnaws at him. The idea that if he'd been better then Aziraphale might not be suffering is... intolerable. It's intolerable. ]

Crowley—

( oh.

oh, that's heartbreaking. his hand squeezes along crowley's shoulder, hoping to offer him some measure of comfort. he doesn't want him to think that way, that this is somehow his fault in the end.

his expression tightens. )

What do you expect for a stronger bond to be able to do for me? Or learning more magic?

( did he think that any of those things could help stay what is happening to him? aziraphale already knows that it wouldn't, that there is nothing that he could do to delay or prevent it. as long as they are here, in this place, it is only going to keep happening. the passing days and the full moon will only bring new changes.

until it's over. )

This cannot be fixed.

It can. You're frightened of hurting me, yeah? Well the bond is meant to help with control. That's how it works. Keeps you from going feral. So maybe if I'd done this sooner, or better, you'd feel calmer.

[ There's a stubborn note to that. Crowley is stubbornly determined to accept a degree of fault in this, and he won't have it brushed away. Just because Aziraphale hurt him and felt guilty about it doesn't mean he can shoulder all the blame on his own! ]

( whatever impression crowley has in his head is entirely wrong. the person who had failed to promptly establish a bond had been aziraphale, who had spent far too much time being indecisive about what familiars he should choose. crowley wasn't a part of the equation until he put himself there.

he lets out a quiet breath. he thinks he should correct him, but decides it doesn't matter as much as the other point he brought up. )

Better? How are you meant to do it any better?

( what else is to be done? improved intimacy? physical closeness? )

[ Supposedly, being tactile does help with the bond.

Crowley is thinking about that as his fingers flex where they're knit with Aziraphale's, thinking about them being closer. Thinking about if Aziraphale would stubbornly object, or if he has to word this in some specific way. If he has to appeal to him on terms of practicality, in case the emotions are off-putting. ]

Aziraphale.

[ Said softly, as patiently as he can -- still tinged with a little frustration. ]

( the most off-putting thing is what is happening between them now. it feels as if there is something hanging in the air between them, something unspoken and irrevocably irritating. crowley seems to be hinged on the idea that he had done something to somehow make this all worse and aziraphale hasn't the faintest idea as to why.

this hardly concerns him at all. )

Come on then. Out with it.

( say whatever it is that's in that head of his. )

[ 'Out with it'.

Crowley feels himself shy from that, tempted to immediately demur. To claim there's nothing to discuss, that it doesn't matter, nothing to be out with. There's a tangled knot of emotion inside him, a writhing ball of snakes all trying to move different directions.

The problem is, putting it off won't make the problem go away.

It only looms bigger every time they have to work around it. Like the emperor's invisible clothing or whatever, hippo in the room people ignore, everyone acting normal while the truth is they're both absolute fools.

Maybe he's a fool for allowing it this long.

Maybe Aziraphale is wilfully acting blind and just waiting for his cue to stop pretending.

Maybe he'll never know if he never says anything about it, but Aziraphale takes a long time to accept any sort of change. ]

Big words from someone who didn't want me to say anything earlier.

[ A reluctant grumble. ]

I just think -- probably work better if we both agree what we want out of this. So we're on the same page.

[ There, that sounds... neutral enough. For now. ]

( everything about this feels like it is taking too long. the current position makes aziraphale feel as if he is on display, providing full view of the offending new appendages he's been cursed with as well as all the nervousness in his hands and face. he would rather not drag this out any longer than they must.

he would like to say what needs to be said, do what needs to be done, and be allowed to retreat back to—

oh, no. he couldn't. he couldn't go back to his bedroom to sleep in the condition the sheets were in.

he sighs, both at the sudden realisation and in acknowledgement to crowley's words. )

Mm.

( what they both wanted, was it? did they even want the same things?

he squeezes crowley's fingers, gently but lingering. )

Well, do you know what it is that you want out of this then, Crowley?

( surely, he must have some idea to bring it up. )

[ Does he know what he wants?

What a question, of course he does.

Typical, he thinks, of Aziraphale to make him take the first step again. He feels a wave of... something, at it. A lingering, prickling feeling. Like frustration, but not frustration.

He doesn't have the energy to play this carefully, but the finger squeeze is a reassurance that it might not matter. ]

I just want to be with you, angel. That's all I want. That's all I've ever wanted. Just to be with you. Not because I have to be, just because I want to be.

( that hardly feels like an answer. that much had been made clear to him on more than a few occasions. and. . . he is here now. he doesn't have to be and most likely shouldn't be, but here he is. standing in this cramped bathroom, unwilling to leave aziraphale to his own devices.

he looks over crowley's face, trying to read his expression. )

I know. I do know that.

( so, he wonders, what is he trying to get at by bringing it up? where was he leading this to? wouldn't it be better to simply say it outright?

as it is, he feels like he's simply waiting. waiting for crowley to get to the point, of course, but also possibly for him to do something.

or maybe aziraphale was supposed to do something instead? )

[ 'I know'.

Bit of an underwhelming reply, if he's honest.

Satan preserve him, his patience is being severely tested. ]

Do you?

[ Honestly. ]

Because sometimes I really don't know. There's no sides here, angel. We can just be together -- there's nobody to stop us! None of these people know or care what we are!

( ah.

does he?

suddenly, it doesn't feel like they're talking about the same thing. he had thought they were, that this was crowley telling him to stop trying to shoo him off or trying to pull away from him to resolve the current issue on his own, but he's not confident in that anymore. )

Crowley—

( he starts, pausing as he thinks how to ask the question. )

Are we not together now?

[ Satan preserve him, that's the last of his patience. ]

Well how am I meant to know, then? I can tell you this is the least romantic relationship I've experienced, some days, even when we don't turn the kitchen into a disaster!

[ Cooking is harder than it looks, it turns out, and sticking to simple things is probably better. ]

Look I'm not asking for little cards with poems in and heart shaped chocolates, but give me something angel.

Oh!

( they were not talking about the same thing at all.

aziraphale looks like a deer caught in the headlights of a car as he processes that particular piece of information, the realisation rapidly dawning on him. he starts to mentally replay some of their conversation, but he still thinks it's far too sudden. it's far too abrupt!

why now? why was this a topic of conversation now? was this truly the best time? after he had just recently sunken his teeth into crowley's shoulder? was he mad? shouldn't he have about the opposite sort of reaction to this?

after a brief, excruciating pause, he starts to talk all at once. )

No! No, no. We're not—

( he lifts their joined hands, nearly about to gesticulate, but then stops. he doesn't let go of crowley's hand. )

Together. In that sense.

( not currently, he thinks. if they were, there wouldn't be a question about it! it wouldn't be some nebulous, unsure thing. that hardly feels like a relationship at all! he feels insulted that sounds plausible to crowley! really!

more importantly, he's insulted at the line "least romantic relationship i've experienced". when exactly had crowley racked up experience on that front?

his fingers tighten around crowley's as if to keep him from pulling away. )

I mean, we could be, but I-I didn't know that's what you meant.

( oh, that isn't the way he wanted to say that. )

You didn't?

[ Said in a tone of utter disbelief. ]

None of this was a clue, none of it at all?

[ Everything seemed like regular friendly behaviour then, did it? The holding Aziraphale tight into his body, pressing his face into his hair, holding hands, the whole stupid lot of it? Did everything they do together really just seem like normal everyday friendship?

Honestly. ]

( if he cared to argue about it, which he doesn't, but if he did—he would mention that it was all generally happening under duress. it certainly wasn't as if they were casually holding hands on the couch or anything. it would be nice if they had, but that wasn't quite what was happening.

everything felt more like. . . well, not that.

aziraphale lets out a small sigh. )

I wouldn't have thought you'd be discussing it right now! It's a rather bad time, don't you think? To-to talk about that sort of thing after I've just bitten you!

( that's the more important point, he thinks. )

And—

( he pauses, pursing his lips. )

Shouldn't it be done more formally? Over dinner or somewhere nice?

( or at the very least, crowley was supposed to ask him that question properly. simply saying that he wanted to be together wasn't exactly asking him. )

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