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

[benedicus]

Who: Aziraphale & Others (closed prompts!)
When: various points of Aguril.
Where: specified in prompts.
What: catch-all log for the month.
Warnings: language, unfortunate TF stuff, UST, suspicious flowers, temporary paralysis, non-suspicious flowers, two cats & a turtle.



art by decalian1!

( CROWLEY | CROWLEY (FULL MOON) | LEVI | SIEG )

Comments

[benedicus]

( the pounding of his heart in his chest feels so loud, must be so loud, that aziraphale cannot help but worry that both the witch and crowley can hear the deafening sound of it. that they can hear all of his nervousness, his anxiety, and the weird excited elation that seems to be bubbling within him.

he feels a little manic.

is it normal to feel this way? he wonders, he wonders. it's just that it's a little difficult to hear talk of meaningful deep connections and finding home in another person and know it is being said in relation to crowley . . . because he knows that he wants it. he wants all of those things to the point of aching and he feels it so strongly in this moment that it's overwhelming. it's a little cruel as well because this feels like something, but not enough of that same something.

close, but still so far.

he lets out a shaky breath, trying not to read into the way that crowley still struggles beside him. this was his idea, his suggestion, and aziraphale was going to get the familiars if not for him, and now this is happening—

the thought is broken by the attendant turning her attention onto him, looking at him expectantly. it's only by some miracle that he had been still listening well enough to know what is being asked of him. )

I may cause you pain, Crowley, but that is not my intention. I will try to share your pain and ease it when I can.

( aziraphale repeats, surprisingly steady sounding. almost a little determined even. )

[sparkofgoodness]

[ This is --

This is a lot. Crowley feels the intense desire to shrivel up and shrink into the ground under Aziraphale's expectant scrutiny, under the steady gaze of the witch.

Somehow, he manages to stay put. Years of bluffing through his temptations put to good use, he supposes, he's able to stick it out and keep his cool.

Well, maybe not keep his cool, he's pretty sure every muscle in his body is tense but -- he's making an effort. Trying counts.

She carries on, a relentless torture of things for them to recite. It's all soft, sappy things -- four letter words all over. If anyone heard them, he'd be in so much trouble. More than trouble. He'd be finished.

I will share your laughter, look for all the brightness and joy in our lives.
I may burden you, but that is not my intention. I will seek to share your burdens, and grow with you.
I will share your dreams, dream together with you to create new hopes.
I may cause you anger, it is not my intention. The heat of our anger will temper and give strength to our bond.
I will honour you, never give you cause to break that honour.

Crowley thinks his hands are clammy. She finishes twining the cord around their hands, offers them what he suspects is meant to be an encouraging smile.

The bond is not formed by this knot, but by your vows. You hold in your hands and hearts the making and breaking of this union. Just as your hands are now bound together, so too are your lives. May you be forever one, sharing in all things for all time to come.

She steps back, spreads her hands and smiles brighter. Crowley glances sideways at Aziraphale, hand squirming nervously. ]

Errr.

[ Is about all he manages. Nnngh. Wasn't he good with words, once? When did that stop being a thing? The witch takes pity on them, gestures behind her to the witness who glances up at her friend, a questioning sort of glance Crowley suspects means get a load of these idiots before beginning to check over that the certificate is fully completed in all sections. She moves it across the table and watches her co-worker cross back over to double-check it then sign the other section. ]

Right. Guess that's done, then.

[ His voice is doing something funny, coming out sort of weak. Crowley isn't sure why, but the tent suddenly feels terribly claustrophobic. His thumb rubs anxiously at Aziraphale's hand. ]

[benedicus]

( listening to the vows being spoken by the attending witch and then repeated by crowley and himself, aziraphale realises with remarkable clarity that he could never do this with anyone else. it had been a nice thought for a while, a desperate bid to keep a certain divide between them, but now that he is here and now that he is making vows—

well, he'd like to think that he would keep to them. there's a certain power to the spoken word and it's particularly true for words like this, which were unmistakably more like proper wedding vows rather than what he had expected of a bonding ceremony. he almost wonders if they had gotten them mixed up, if they're having them do the completely wrong set of vows. not that it would matter now since it's far too late to do anything about it, but still he wonders.

his expression softens as they continue to speak and he thinks his eyes feel a bit wet.

the bond is not formed by this knot, but by your vows. you hold in your hands and hearts the making and breaking of this union. just as your hands are now bound together, so too are your lives. may you be forever one, sharing in all things for all time to come.

ah.

he finds himself clutching at crowley's hands, grip overly tight but unsteady, and he knows his eyes are wet. for a flicker of a moment, he has a hysterical thought about kissing before banishing it from his mind. he just feels like he should be doing something else, as if there were one last step to take before finalising this. )

That . . . That was nice.

( he says, lamely, but he barely knows what to say. every thought that forms in his head isn't appropriate, nothing to be spoken aloud. this is a bonding ceremony, just a bonding ceremony, he shouldn't start spouting off at the mouth.

but he won't forget how he feels in this moment or the way crowley looks in the candlelight.

inexplicably, he adds: )

Thank you.

[sparkofgoodness]

[ It was nice, but it's very dangerously close to becoming all too much.

About a hairs breath away.

Crowley's eyes flit restlessly between Aziraphale's face, their hands bound together and the witches as they begin to pull together the paperwork. They're saying something, distantly he realises, but he's not really processing it. ]

Yeah, 'course.

[ He thinks Aziraphale said something too, so hopefully just straight up agreeing covers everything. His fingers flex around Aziraphale's, nervous, then his free hand shoots out to take something the witch is offering them. She's saying congratulations again, he thinks, and he makes a vague sound of acceptance before lifting his eyes to Aziraphale. ]

Right. Drink?

[ Drink seems a good idea. Yes? Good. ]

[benedicus]

( that seems to be it.

aziraphale thought that he might feel different after everything was all said and done, but he doesn't. not in this particular moment at least. he just feels like a whole bundle of anxious nerves (still) and dangerously on the edge of saying something that he knows that he shouldn't. it's on the tip of his tongue, right there and ready, but thankfully crowley seems to have mentally checked out of the situation.

it helps stay his desire to make a mistake.

crowley barely answers as the witches continue to talk to him, just as he had barely answered aziraphale. he lets out a quiet sigh, but recognises that it is for the best. better this way, better for crowley to already be done with it. )

Yes, let's.

( an easy thing to agree to as the attendant offers him his own copy of the paperwork.

there was nothing left to do but to celebrate. )