(no subject)

[ineffable-angel.livejournal.com]

Date: September 18, 2000
Setting: Aziraphale's bedroom.
Status: Private - Crowley, Aziraphale (complete)
Summary: Aziraphale is home, and Crowley is suspicious.



A very tiny knit cap (pink tartan and off-centre; he hadn't knit in such a long while), a stuffed bear with a pair of corduroy trousers, a rattle decorated with little bows, and at least four pieces of baby clothing were clutched in the angel's hands as he opened drawers and closets, searching for a good place to hide them. He'd found an appropriate gift bag, at the very least, but nowhere yet to store it.

Crowley wasn't yet returned, and Aziraphale had arrived back early with the intent to put them somewhere. He had just found a spot behind a dresser when the handle to the bedroom clicked, and the door opened.

Comments

[ineffable-angel.livejournal.com]

Oh.

So.

Voice hushed, Aziraphale stared, horrified, at his lover. He swallowed, once, twice, and again, until he was certain he couldn't say anything he'd regret instantly.

"So this?" he began, hoarse and broken at first, and then, "So this is what is the underlying issue? Crowley," and he was angry, suddenly of being accused of unfaithfulness, at the insane notion of him fathering anyone. "What, does Oscar still bother you so, the fact that I was lovers with a human over one hundred years ago? If you don't know me well enough by now to say I couldn't be unfaithful, then I'm not sure how we can continue."

And then anger truly sunk its sick claws into Aziraphale as the full force of Crowley's own anger and insinuations reached him. Aziraphale didn't say anything at first, and then, even as the anger built up, sighed and, with a deeply heartbroken, saddening sound, said, "You don't trust me. Have you ever?"

It was so quietly said that for a moment, even with the tension of the room, Aziraphale didn't believe Crowley had heard him. The angel couldn't look at Crowley's face to assure himself, though; with emotions risen so rapidly and so high, Aziraphale couldn't have borne it.

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

He heard it. And it was a good question. Crowley had been betrayed so many times by so many people that he probably couldn't trust anyone entirely anymore. Perhaps it was easier to sabotage his relationships than it was to get hurt again.

"How the fuck can I, Aziraphale? I turned my back for five minutes and you took up with a slime-ball. Then you didn't even have the grace to tell me about it. I had to find out in the worst possible way. You talk about faithfulness, that you couldn't be unfaithful, but how can you claim that when you were fucking a married man? What ever happened to 'Thou shalt not commit adultery'?"

The demon's chest was heaving. He hadn't realized that he'd wanted to say any of this, but it poured out in waves and he didn't think he could stop even if he wanted to. It had been bottled up too long and never addressed. He'd loved the angel, loved him more than anyone had thought possible, including himself, but had never felt like he was anything more than a pleasant diversion in return, or maybe a pet project.

"And now you're hiding shit from me again and I'm sick of it. I'm sick of the half truths and pretending everything is all right. I'm sick of your jealousy, passivity, neediness, and I'm sick of you. Go give your gifts to your slutty 'friend'."

[ineffable-angel.livejournal.com]

"It wasn't any of your business! Over a hundred years ago we didn't have this, we weren't- well. We're not now, either, are we."

(It was hardly a question.)

"Adultery?!" and Aziraphale was the one nearly hissing in outrage, spitting in such anger. "You, you tempt me to greed, envy by your own admission, wrath, gluttony, and lust - to say the least! - and then you accuse me of not being a good angel by committing adultery? How you can possibly..."

Aziraphale turned away from Crowley, and, gift bag, Buggre Alle This Bible (singed), and long-forgotten tartan cane in hand, walked towards the door.

"I can't stay," he murmured, to the still silence, pausing with his hand on the door handle. "You can't trust me, and this insanity - this jealousy - is unbearable. Goodbye, Crowley. Take care, I shan't be seeing you for a great long while."

The door handle turned and clicked, and the angel took a step and stopped, looking right at Crowley's yellow, beautifully serpentine eyes, completely blocked from view by those expensive sunglasses he favoured, and the angel added:

"You should know I loved him. But I loved you more."

Aziraphale shook his head and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

[anthony-crowley.livejournal.com]

Crowley watched him go, expression completely blank. There were so many things that had been left unsaid as there always were...

The demon wanted to say that a hundred years ago they did have this, or at least he did, and watching Aziraphale with Wilde had been very nearly the hardest thing he'd ever done. He'd known it wouldn't end well, knew the angel would get hurt, and there hadn't been a damn thing he could do about it.

He also wanted to say that he hadn't tempted Aziraphale into anything. He'd been so careful not to. So, if the angel were feeling those things, they were of his own doing. If he were blaming Crowley for it, perhaps it was better this way. Maybe he'd be able to check those influences if he were away from him, before they caused his downfall. He didn't like the idea of a righteous Aziraphale, a cold clone of Gabriel walking around and doing his duty, but it was better than the idea of a fallen Aziraphale. At least with the former, one of them could be happy.

Crowley would add, too, if he could, that it wasn't his jealousy that was the problem. He could have dealt with the idea of Wilde in time if they ever sat and talked about things the way they used to, but the angel was so defensive and secretive about it. And his jealousy of John and Ellie and nearly anyone that Crowley talked to was not to be bourne, especially when it led to being spied on and followed. The demon felt his unsurety about the affair with Uriel could be supported, at least, because Aziraphale had demonstrated that he could be with other people and hide the fact. But Crowley had never been in a relationship before. Why would the angel doubt him? Unless it was a way to throw suspicion away from himself.

"You may have loved me once, angel," he sighed aloud to the empty room. "but Adam help me, I still love you."

Too numb to sulk or lash out, Crowley's steps led him out of the room and towards the third floor. With any luck, John would be in his room and have lots and lots of alcohol.

[ineffable-angel.livejournal.com]

He'd lied.

He'd lied he'd lied he'd lied he'd lied.

Aziraphale slowed his stride down the third floor halls, beginning to tremble, and stopped, bracing himself against the wall. He pressed a hand against his face, unutterably grateful that no one was there to see him.

There were things he hadn't said, as well; upset over the affair at the barbecue, other jealousies from Crowley that he'd let go. They'd both strikes against them, but all were innocently gained, and Aziraphale had hoped Crowley knew that. But as it was...

The angel's breath hitched, and he held still a moment, supported by the rich wood panels of the hall.


He'd lied.

He still loved Crowley.

But he also had things to do, now. Aziraphale took another deep breath, relieved to see that it was steadier, and pulled himself together. He stepped away and picked up his stride again, heading to John's room.