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mekachu04he knows something is wrong - knew the moment the words left his mouth.
He said them anyway. Six thousand years of denial, he would say them as many times as he had to until it no longer hurt to recall each previous lie. He didn't dare think there would be no consiquences, but he had haoped. he had hoped so hard, when each of his recent infractions merrired no responce.
crolwely still sleeps at his side; the unease at how quickly htey'd been ushered away at he park - even if it had been the plan - has them both nervious about being aprt at the time. azirpahle, while nejoying a chance to simply exist, curcled up next to his dearest fiend, doens't sleep often, though his mind quiets in a way he's never been able to find solance in before.
feeling bold last night, azirpahle had cuddled inclose to crowley, holding the demon as he settled in for a nap. they'd gotten better about vocalizing their freindship, ad azirpahle had been quite open about how dear her concidered crolwey over thew ages. but there was one thing left he'd nver allowed himself to say - barely allowed himself to entetain, even in the privacy of his own mind.
"i love you," it had been more matter of fact than a state ment of affection, one he would had raged at himself at if he'd not been distracted by the open wonder in croley's face, and the tingling manifesting in the elbow wedged under the demon at the time.
"Do you now?" crolwey had grinned, face looseing that sauve, cool look he'd tried so hard to prefect. the smile on his face now more more goofy and shy, "Good thing that, then.'
"really?"
crowley hid his face in azirpahles curls, a soft chuckle, "I lov eyou too, you rediculas angel."
that been all - the night before. now, with crolwey breathing softly at his side, azirahle is acutly awae of the tingling still on his arm. almost an itch. when he'd rubbs at it, the fabic of his shirt had caught oddly.
he'd slipped away fromt he slumbering demon to make himself some tea, idaly unbottoning his sleave to see better. there, painted across hte soft veneable skin of his inner elbow, was a patch of warm tan scales.
it wasn't terribly big, concidering. the size of a large coin perhaps. he'd get a mathcing on on the other arm soon enough, rippling into existance when corlwey made an appreache later that day, and azirpahle greated him with, 'goodmorning, love.'
he felt them immediatly; as soon as the word left his lips. a tingle, skin feeling alittle raw, follwing into an itch an hour or so later.
he kept his face calm - never one of his better skills, but it managed to stay in place well enough becuase corlwey gave no sign he'd notcied something amise. and, to be fair, that was one of crolwey's beter skills.
but the message was clear; he'd been allowed to remain an angel, been allowed his firendhsip with crolwey. but even that had it's limits. he was allowed to cherish corlwey, was allowed to hold him dear.
but he was not allowed to love him.
/well/, he thought idally, later that night as he picked at the ptch stating on the back of his knee, it was small, only a couple of scales, but ther enone the less, /in for a penny, in for a pound/
the only concern on his mind was how long he could keep it form crowley. the demon had spent six htousand years helping azirpahle toee the party line nad keep from falling. this... this mihgt break him.
He said them anyway. Six thousand years of denial, he would say them as many times as he had to until it no longer hurt to recall each previous lie. He didn't dare think there would be no consiquences, but he had haoped. he had hoped so hard, when each of his recent infractions merrired no responce.
crolwely still sleeps at his side; the unease at how quickly htey'd been ushered away at he park - even if it had been the plan - has them both nervious about being aprt at the time. azirpahle, while nejoying a chance to simply exist, curcled up next to his dearest fiend, doens't sleep often, though his mind quiets in a way he's never been able to find solance in before.
feeling bold last night, azirpahle had cuddled inclose to crowley, holding the demon as he settled in for a nap. they'd gotten better about vocalizing their freindship, ad azirpahle had been quite open about how dear her concidered crolwey over thew ages. but there was one thing left he'd nver allowed himself to say - barely allowed himself to entetain, even in the privacy of his own mind.
"i love you," it had been more matter of fact than a state ment of affection, one he would had raged at himself at if he'd not been distracted by the open wonder in croley's face, and the tingling manifesting in the elbow wedged under the demon at the time.
"Do you now?" crolwey had grinned, face looseing that sauve, cool look he'd tried so hard to prefect. the smile on his face now more more goofy and shy, "Good thing that, then.'
"really?"
crowley hid his face in azirpahles curls, a soft chuckle, "I lov eyou too, you rediculas angel."
that been all - the night before. now, with crolwey breathing softly at his side, azirahle is acutly awae of the tingling still on his arm. almost an itch. when he'd rubbs at it, the fabic of his shirt had caught oddly.
he'd slipped away fromt he slumbering demon to make himself some tea, idaly unbottoning his sleave to see better. there, painted across hte soft veneable skin of his inner elbow, was a patch of warm tan scales.
it wasn't terribly big, concidering. the size of a large coin perhaps. he'd get a mathcing on on the other arm soon enough, rippling into existance when corlwey made an appreache later that day, and azirpahle greated him with, 'goodmorning, love.'
he felt them immediatly; as soon as the word left his lips. a tingle, skin feeling alittle raw, follwing into an itch an hour or so later.
he kept his face calm - never one of his better skills, but it managed to stay in place well enough becuase corlwey gave no sign he'd notcied something amise. and, to be fair, that was one of crolwey's beter skills.
but the message was clear; he'd been allowed to remain an angel, been allowed his firendhsip with crolwey. but even that had it's limits. he was allowed to cherish corlwey, was allowed to hold him dear.
but he was not allowed to love him.
/well/, he thought idally, later that night as he picked at the ptch stating on the back of his knee, it was small, only a couple of scales, but ther enone the less, /in for a penny, in for a pound/
the only concern on his mind was how long he could keep it form crowley. the demon had spent six htousand years helping azirpahle toee the party line nad keep from falling. this... this mihgt break him.
