oldbookshop | LONGESTNIGHT | mortifying ordeal 2k24

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LONGESTNIGHT | mortifying ordeal 2k24

[ We're out here... we're at it. Snacks on lock. Beverages even more on lock because how else are they supposed to be expected to get through this. A watch setup that they can be sure no one else will wander in on, because that would make this even weirder.

(Aziraphale was mostly involved with the snacks and drinks, and not at all involved with any sort of tech setup. He's got a little notebook and a stubby pencil in case he needs to jot things down.)

They've agreed on their basic ground rules terms, whatever those look like. Who even truly knows. Probably some no-questions-asked "look away from this" allowances or "don't bring this up until we're done with this ordeal please" codewords or whatever. Maybe there's no real rules and this is the wild west. It's our world to create tbh.

But at least they can be emotionally flayed for public consumption in a warm cozy workshop environment. ]

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[Hold on, Crowley does have to lean back for this so Aziraphale can properly see his incredulous face.

There's also a lot of love in his expression, but that's neither here nor there.]

I've not even seen your collarbones and you're talking about making a bloody sex spreadsheet.

[Now Aziraphale is the one with the audacity.]

[ Nooooooooooooo his weighted paramour blanket. How could this have happened!

Aziraphale will be having a lil sulk about that. ]

I don't see how it's any more forward than a list.

[What if Crowley gives him a little kiss about it, though?]

The list was also your idea, in case you've already forgotten.

[ Then he looks mollified even if he's still being dramatic about it. Aziraphale talked Crowley back out of cuddling... the injustices never end. ]

If you don't understand my vision, then you don't understand my vision. [ There's no one alive who understands his vision including him. The spreadsheet of which he speaks might be "organized" much in the same way his shop is "organized" anyway. ] I'll just do the research for my own edification.

[Unfortunately for Aziraphale, he looks cute when he's slightly mollified but still dramatic.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood......

He decides to not make a joke about self-edification and focus on the vision part, instead.]

What's your vision, angel? A dewey decimal system for sex acts? [Bold of him to accuse Aziraphale of using the dewey decimal system. Everyone knows that bookshop is a mess.] I might not be the expert you evidently are, but I'd have thought that would take the fun out of it.

Dearest, you know how I feel about the dewey decimal system.

[ It'll never catch on. It's stupid and foolish and difficult and biased but it's not even got the decency to be honest about that. Another couple of centuries and humanity will surely have moved past it. Yes that's the most important thing to address first. ]

I'm putting a pin in describing the vision. Need to circle back on it later. [ Aziraphale can't deny that there's fun in the discovering. Or not without blatantly lying. He needs to run things through his mental processor for a while, maybe, to pinpoint what about this conceptually grips him and merits being articulated. That or he'll forget about it until he suddenly hasn't forgotten about it. Crowley will be there whenever whatever happens manages to happen.

That much, at least, he's quite certain of. ] Something to put back on the table after my mysterious collarbones have become old hat for you.

[ The ramifications of being a historical slut with no real emotional attachments involved are coming for this bitch and he doesn't even know it. Like okay Aziraphale. You're just being goofy. ]

[There are topics that get an automatic rise out of Aziraphale and Crowley isn't above bringing them up just for the fun of having an argument about something that doesn't matter. He could poke and prod enough to get a rant about the dewey decimal system, but as lovely as those rants are, he isn't interested right now.]

Alright, alright, you can have your secret visions.

[Placating, as if he isn't always going to be incredibly indulgent. Aziraphale can take all the time he needs.

Just like Crowley is going to take a second to shift his hands a little higher, so he can drum his fingers against where he'd guess those mysterious collarbones are.]

Might take a few millennia for any part of you to become old hat for me.

[Catch him being sappy on main.]

[ Aziraphale invented being high maintenance, and Crowley has unlocked a whole new defusing tier.

Thriving. Hydrated. Getting affection and romance all at once? Unfair. ]

Hard to complain about that. The feeling is very mutual.

[ If you're not simping you're not living. A lifestyle. ]

[In the exact same tone as when Aziraphale said he was kind after rescuing the books:]

Shut up.

[If the plan was to return Crowley to his weighted blanket slate, then Aziraphale has been successful, because he decides to use cuddling in close as an excuse to hide his face.]

First thing on that list is gonna be a limit to the bloody compliments.

[He's circling back to the list because he can't handle these compliments.]

[ Aziraphale loves him. He can't stand how much. Getting his weighted blanket back is a bonus that was, perhaps, a secret hope.

He'll just anchor an arm around Crowley's back to get the message across. Other things to do in other places, whomst. They live here being very normal and relaxed. ]

You could try getting used to them first.

[ He's barely done any! Exposure therapy. ]

Absolutely terrible idea, angel.

[For reasons that he's choosing not to articulate on account of the fact that even admitting his discomfort with compliments was a big deal and now he wants to hide under the bed for a year or two until he recovers.]

It's that, or I'll put gags on the list.

[Trying to sound threatening isn't very effective when he's currently doing an impression of a koala.]

[ Don't threaten him with a good time.

But also: scoff! ]

You don't even like the lists! Why should it matter what you pretend to put on it?

Never said I didn't like the lists, just pointed out that they were your idea.

[His opinion on the lists is that it would be absolutely too mortifying but that's between him and God.]

The implication was that they aren't fun. And if you think they aren't fun, then you jolly well don't like them, do you?

[ Aziraphale read all the signs and portents! He interpreted them! With pinpoint accuracy.

It's literally not even a big deal, he just likes when they have something stupid to argue about. ]

[Is he wrong? No.

Is Crowley going to be a little shit about it anyway? Absolutely.]

Things don't have to be fun for me t'like them.

[Which is true as well! He might have complained about Shakespeare's tragedies, but he's not totally opposed to the concept of catharsis.

He makes a thoughtful sound against Aziraphale's collar, trying to keep being brave.]

It wouldn't be — [The sound he makes this time is just one of the generic vague, unintelligible ones.] — Would you actually be able to just write all that down?

[ Inscrutable. Utterly inscrutable.

Aziraphale ignores that mysterious first statement that makes no sense (to him the creator of avoidant tendencies) in favor of giving the question a proper turnover.

He was so wrapped up in the euphoria of having a helpful list of ways to make sure Crowley has a good time that for a moment, he forgot about the mortifying ordeal. Crowley was so wise to go back to not making eye contact. Infinitely easier. He starts drumming his fingers. ]

Well. I... suppose it goes over a bit differently under these circumstances. As an option. [ Being in love and committed and all. More complex emotions involved. Not working out one-off encounters in the way that one would go to specific restaurants because they were in the mood for something particular.

This is clearly more fraught because it's become a proper discussion. ]

[For a brief moment he worries that he's put an awful damper on things by bringing up the realities of Aziraphale's plan, but he can't help his curiosity, or his larger concern that if this is something Aziraphale genuinely wants them to do, he isn't going to be able to manage it.

Direct communication has never been their strong suit.]

These —? Right, 'course. [These circumstances, as opposed to other circumstances that he'd forgotten about. The ones where Aziraphale has slept with other people and apparently has had this kind of discussion before doing so.] Can't say I had many in depth discussions about it before. It'd be a first.

[So that's where he's coming at it from. Just for context.]

I see. [ Just. Discovering on the fly. Living with the uncharted passion of the moment.

That sounds a little more terrifying, Aziraphale thinks. The-- added intimacy of going about it that way. Of learning someone. He lists a few things off for someone, they don't need to ask questions about why or why not, and they don't need to experiment. And vice-versa.

Which doesn't comport, really, with proper romance. At the end of the day.

Aziraphale hesitates. He percolates. He does not want to be emotionally vulnerable and communicative about this. He hates doing that. Who could have foretold that confessing their love would lead to that? ]

I don't... [ Just do it. Crowley's been very patient and straightforward. Respect that in turn. ] I don't fancy the idea of accidentally stumbling into something you hate.

[ It's slightly less vulnerable but no less true. ]

[There's something sort of amusing, if he squints, about the fact they're having this conversation while they're pressed as close as they are and would both likely rather be discorporated than have to make eye contact.

The reassurance and comfort that comes from newfound affection help with getting through this, but mostly it's helping by saving Crowley from having to see Aziraphale's expression. Much easier to do it from a metaphorical distance.

Makes it easier to give Aziraphale his patience, too, and everything clicks into place when the response does come.

Of course that's what he'd worry about.]

Aziraphale. [Gentle and fond.] We've been friends for six thousand bloody years, I'd like to think I've got you figured out well enough to know you're not going to want something I'd hate.

[They might stumble into something he's indifferent about, or not too fond of, but hate is a stretch. Unless it turns out Aziraphale's got some very weird predilections that he's kept secret all these years, but he doesn't think that's the case.]

[ The problem, of course, is that that's very true. Which isn't an objective problem or anything, it's sweet of Crowley to say. And to know. And to be nice about it.

It's just also that it means Crowley could simply not know until he suddenly does know. A bad grade? In being lovers? Aziraphale dreads the thought. ]

Probably. [ Most likely, even. ] I might just worry anyway. As a personal choice.

[ It'll give him something non-existential to spin his wheels about. ]

[Crowley makes a grumbling sort of sound against Aziraphale's shoulder, the kind that comes when he's annoyed about the situation but not specifically at Aziraphale, and also the kind that comes when he's working himself up to do something he doesn't want to do.

But he's going to do it, because he loves Aziraphale.

In this case, 'it' means sitting back again so he can hold Aziraphale's stupid face in his stupid hands and force him to make stupid eye contact. This is important.]

If you want a list, I'll give you a list, but I swear you've got nothing to worry about. If one of us hates something, we'll move on and take it off the table for the future. Doesn't have to be a big deal.

[He meant what he said, too, about there being very little he wouldn't let Aziraphale do to him, but that's because he loves him and trusts him and knows Aziraphale wouldn't try to do something out of malice or ill intent.]

You're hardly about to try hurting me, yeah? So we're good. The rest will fall into place.

[He's a demon, at the end of the day. The bar is quite literally in Hell, and he has no doubt that Aziraphale will clear it effortlessly.]

[ Crowley gets his eye contact only because he's Crowley. Aziraphale feels fairly certain that his entire internal point about how much worse this method is has been proven. It's much easier to make your crush point a gun at you.

Or maybe that's just him feeling extremely foolish and not being happy about that. It might be the latter. Possibly.

Terrifying. Crowley doesn't even know how terrifying, with all his reason and fair logic and stupid hands touching Aziraphale's stupid face and his stupidly pretty eyes. That almost makes it worse. ]

And you would... you would tell me. If it did somehow happen.

[ If he tripped the invisible minefield that surrounds all sentient beings, etc etc.

This sort of counts as a guideline he could work with. If nothing else. ]

[The first instinct is to be sarcastic, to respond to such a ridiculous question with a dismissive joke, but he's looking at Aziraphale now, can see the genuine concern there. A joke might be cruel right now, even if it wouldn't be intended as such.]

'Course, angel.

[Maybe there's a version of this where he'd bite his tongue and endure something because he'd want to give Aziraphale anything he wanted, but now that he knows how much of a concern it is, he'll speak up for Aziraphale's sake as much as his own.

Holding his face like this makes it easy to kiss him, a quick, firm kiss to reaffirm the fact they're in this together.

And then, because he can't help himself:]

When I have ever passed up a chance to complain?

[It's a valid point. He loves to complain.]

[ Hmmmm. Hmmmmmmmm. It passes Aziraphale's sniff test enough to start settling him. Did the kissing help? Maybe. Yes. He misses the part where they were kissing and not communicating.

Human romance novels didn't prepare him for this.

But Crowley says that he'd say something, so he'll just have to trust that in the same way that he would have trusted the accuracy of the hypothetical list. Barebones framework, still awfully fraught. Crowley is as solid a thing to build a framework out of as the universe can provide, though, and that lends credit.

Despite him being a little shit. ]

Complaining is your most irritating charm point. [ Kink list out, tiered list of Crowley's charm points in. ] I suppose I can allow it.

[ Just normal mortifying ordeals. The normal way. He's got time to adjust to it conceptually now. Communicating may have a point after all. ]

[It's a miracle that they managed to get through this; at least Crowley can handle emotions if they're for Aziraphale's sake.

He sees the moment Aziraphale starts to relax a little and gives him another quick kiss before letting his hands drop back down to his chest, since it'd be a little awkward to keep holding his face forever. As nice as that sounds.]

Gracious as always.

[Being sarcastic is important sometimes to give them both some breathing room, a little distance from the weightier emotions.]

Obviously the same goes for you. No lying back and thinking of England.

[At some point he's going to have a panic attack out of fear that he'll be Bad At Sex but he's heroically staving it off for now. He's pushed bookshelves up against the door that it's trying to break down. It's fine.]

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