"A Deviant." Crowley parroted with an extremely exaggerated eye-roll. "The most deviant thing you're capable of is allowing your tea to grow cold whilst reading a good book." He paused, a thought forming. "Oh, right. You did learn the gavotte. Maybe they're right. You're a dastardly deviant. Might as well sign yourself over to His side now. You're lost to Heaven after that." Can he hear the sarcasm? You damn well better be able to, Angel. "Still. I should've been there."
At the forgiving comment, Crowley scoffed. "Never liked that saying, water under the bridge. Of course there's water under the bridge. Not like it would flow over the bridge, so long as reality wasn't broken. That's the point of a bridge. To go over water. You wouldn't need the bridge else wise." He knew that wasn't the point.
"That was proof, is what it was for. I don't know what you're getting so worked up over, Angel. This isn't our universe. Dreams work differently here, and there's easily a hundred trapped souls here, including ours." Crowley combed his fingers through Aziraphale's feathers, nearly finished with one wing. Just checking for anything he missed. You know, like a stray crape or a lost book--he wouldn't put it past the angel at this point. "Sorry about the most unfortunate news, but I am real, Angel."
It irked him a bit, or perhaps it was just frustrating, that they could be this close. This co-dependant on eachother. That Crowley couldn't go a century without a visit from the Angel. That he had to skulk through the shadows to keep an eye on the angel so he didn't get himself in trouble. It irked him that, thinking of Aziraphale alone after Wilde made his chest hurt and it shouldn't. He shouldn't feel that way. He'd done some of the most absurd things to keep the angel safe or on Earth because he couldn't stand the thought of not having him around. He knew it was nothing the angel would understand. He knew better. Holier than thou and all that. The number of times he had to fight with the blonde that they were, in fact, friends despite his objections was ridiculous. The angel would never get it and the demon would never get over it.
"Ducks." He answered awkwardly. "She heard us talking about ducks and lunch." The demon withdrew his fingers from the angel's feathers and after a brief moment of debate, he crawled across the angel's lap to get to the other side of him without breaking their wing-dome. Once he'd hauled his entire lanky, slender body across the angel, very reminiscent of a serpent, he settled back into the grass beside him and started on the other wing. "She's just a child with a wild imagination. But she's here alone." There was another pause and his voice dropped in volume as if ashamed. "I offered to cover her living expenses. But she may be under the impression that you and I are more than friends. She says 'ducks' and the link are 'date code'."
Crowley, despite seeming calm and relaxed, was very, very still. Often, he blinked to mimic normal human autonomy, but where he was in his head at this moment, he was forgetting to be human. He'd noticed Aziraphale artfully ignore his question, which had really been a self-depreciating retort. So now, he was reading the angel for a reaction while simultaneously trying not to show that he was focused that intently on the angel.
no subject
At the forgiving comment, Crowley scoffed. "Never liked that saying, water under the bridge. Of course there's water under the bridge. Not like it would flow over the bridge, so long as reality wasn't broken. That's the point of a bridge. To go over water. You wouldn't need the bridge else wise." He knew that wasn't the point.
"That was proof, is what it was for. I don't know what you're getting so worked up over, Angel. This isn't our universe. Dreams work differently here, and there's easily a hundred trapped souls here, including ours." Crowley combed his fingers through Aziraphale's feathers, nearly finished with one wing. Just checking for anything he missed. You know, like a stray crape or a lost book--he wouldn't put it past the angel at this point. "Sorry about the most unfortunate news, but I am real, Angel."
It irked him a bit, or perhaps it was just frustrating, that they could be this close. This co-dependant on eachother. That Crowley couldn't go a century without a visit from the Angel. That he had to skulk through the shadows to keep an eye on the angel so he didn't get himself in trouble. It irked him that, thinking of Aziraphale alone after Wilde made his chest hurt and it shouldn't. He shouldn't feel that way. He'd done some of the most absurd things to keep the angel safe or on Earth because he couldn't stand the thought of not having him around. He knew it was nothing the angel would understand. He knew better. Holier than thou and all that. The number of times he had to fight with the blonde that they were, in fact, friends despite his objections was ridiculous. The angel would never get it and the demon would never get over it.
"Ducks." He answered awkwardly. "She heard us talking about ducks and lunch." The demon withdrew his fingers from the angel's feathers and after a brief moment of debate, he crawled across the angel's lap to get to the other side of him without breaking their wing-dome. Once he'd hauled his entire lanky, slender body across the angel, very reminiscent of a serpent, he settled back into the grass beside him and started on the other wing. "She's just a child with a wild imagination. But she's here alone." There was another pause and his voice dropped in volume as if ashamed. "I offered to cover her living expenses. But she may be under the impression that you and I are more than friends. She says 'ducks' and the link are 'date code'."
Crowley, despite seeming calm and relaxed, was very, very still. Often, he blinked to mimic normal human autonomy, but where he was in his head at this moment, he was forgetting to be human. He'd noticed Aziraphale artfully ignore his question, which had really been a self-depreciating retort. So now, he was reading the angel for a reaction while simultaneously trying not to show that he was focused that intently on the angel.