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vocab_drabblesTitle: Lend me your courage and I'll lend you my strength
Fandom: Good Omens
Author: Cat Moon
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Aziraphale/Crowley
Words: 717
Summary: Moral of the story: don't assume others know what you mean, even if it's very clear in your own mind and it seems like it should be obvious. Crowley and Aziraphale are examples of that.
Notes: Just another post-Second Coming, make-up conversation that starts in the middle and ends with a beginning.
His life was, Crowley reflected, full of irony. Here they were, after everything was said and done and another world-ending plot thwarted, facing each other in almost the same spot on the bookshop floor where their own personal end had played out. And they still didn't seem to be understanding each other.
"What?" he murmured stupidly, thinking perhaps he'd heard wrong.
"I need to know what you meant." That petulant, put-out tone was back in Aziraphale's voice.
Crowley took a deep breath and willed himself patience. "I asked you to go away with me," he pointed out with purposeful avoidance (a trait he had perfected).
The angel huffed. "You're always saying that during Armageddons."
Aziraphale could be remarkably annoying when he wanted to be, and it was more irritating for the fact that Crowley loved even this about him.
"Like Beelzebub and Gabriel," he clarified with emphasis, beginning to suspect Aziraphale was being purposefully obtuse.
"Yes, so you said."
Crowley pinched the bridge of his nose. The angel wasn't making it easy, whether on purpose or not, he wasn't sure. "I kissed you."
"Exactly."
"Exactly?!" Crowley sputtered. "Jesus."
"Don't bring him into this. And how am I to know what you meant by it? I'm not clairvoyant."
"You don't… I thought I was being very clear."
Crowley wasn't known for longanimity. While definitely long-suffering, patience was another matter entirely. Right now, he couldn't decide between being exasperated or mortifyingly embarrassed. As if doing this talking stuff the first time hadn't been bad enough, now Aziraphale was telling him he hadn't gotten the message? How was that possible?
"Crowley, please."
He couldn't ignore the entreaty or continue deflecting and pretending he didn't know what the question really referred to. "The kiss was… a lot of things."
Aziraphale remained silent while he collected his thoughts.
"Desperation," Crowley admitted. "I was trying to get through to you, to show you what I meant because you weren't listening. To be unequivocal." Ironic, as apparently it hadn't been. And neither of them had been listening to the other. "How I feel about you. And what I wan… what I'd like us to be."
"And how is that?" Aziraphale asked in a quiet voice.
The I love you, you idiot on the tip of his tongue probably wouldn't go over well, so he amended it before speaking. "I love you. I have for millennia." Why was it still so difficult the second time?
"And what do you want?" Aziraphale asked, seemingly gaining more resolve as he approached Crowley on feet that showed no hesitation.
This was the real question, wasn't it? With an answer that could bring salvation or destruction. "You. I want you—in whatever way you'll have me."
Another step closer. "I asked what you want."
Last time, he had taken the leap. This time, Aziraphale was pushing him off the cliff. Hopefully, that was a better portent. "I'd like us to be as close as we can be. We're more beings of earth than heaven or hell now. I need to know. To feel it," he whispered. The desire to show the love that had simmered inside him for thousands of years was overwhelming.
"I'm sorry."
Crowley choked on air.
"I'm sorry I made you go first," Aziraphale hasted to add as if realizing his words might be misconstrued. "You always were the brave one," he said. "Rushing in where this angel feared to tread."
"You were the strong one." Strong enough to cut his own heart out to keep them safe.
"Lend me your courage, and I'll lend you my strength," the angel murmured, stepping even closer.
"We're better together."
Now near enough, Aziraphale reached out and gently cupped Crowley's face. "If only it hadn't taken us so long to figure that out."
Speak for yourself, Crowley wanted to say but didn't. He was tired of fighting, sick of lying and pretending, and definitely weary of them hurting each other in the name of love. "What do you want?" he turned the question around.
"The same thing I've always wanted. You." In a show of courage, he drew Crowley in for a kiss.
Courage. Strength. Trust. Love.
They'd had all these, and now they also had the ingredient necessary to take that final step, to truly be Us.
Freedom.
The end
Fandom: Good Omens
Author: Cat Moon
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Aziraphale/Crowley
Words: 717
Summary: Moral of the story: don't assume others know what you mean, even if it's very clear in your own mind and it seems like it should be obvious. Crowley and Aziraphale are examples of that.
Notes: Just another post-Second Coming, make-up conversation that starts in the middle and ends with a beginning.
His life was, Crowley reflected, full of irony. Here they were, after everything was said and done and another world-ending plot thwarted, facing each other in almost the same spot on the bookshop floor where their own personal end had played out. And they still didn't seem to be understanding each other.
"What?" he murmured stupidly, thinking perhaps he'd heard wrong.
"I need to know what you meant." That petulant, put-out tone was back in Aziraphale's voice.
Crowley took a deep breath and willed himself patience. "I asked you to go away with me," he pointed out with purposeful avoidance (a trait he had perfected).
The angel huffed. "You're always saying that during Armageddons."
Aziraphale could be remarkably annoying when he wanted to be, and it was more irritating for the fact that Crowley loved even this about him.
"Like Beelzebub and Gabriel," he clarified with emphasis, beginning to suspect Aziraphale was being purposefully obtuse.
"Yes, so you said."
Crowley pinched the bridge of his nose. The angel wasn't making it easy, whether on purpose or not, he wasn't sure. "I kissed you."
"Exactly."
"Exactly?!" Crowley sputtered. "Jesus."
"Don't bring him into this. And how am I to know what you meant by it? I'm not clairvoyant."
"You don't… I thought I was being very clear."
Crowley wasn't known for longanimity. While definitely long-suffering, patience was another matter entirely. Right now, he couldn't decide between being exasperated or mortifyingly embarrassed. As if doing this talking stuff the first time hadn't been bad enough, now Aziraphale was telling him he hadn't gotten the message? How was that possible?
"Crowley, please."
He couldn't ignore the entreaty or continue deflecting and pretending he didn't know what the question really referred to. "The kiss was… a lot of things."
Aziraphale remained silent while he collected his thoughts.
"Desperation," Crowley admitted. "I was trying to get through to you, to show you what I meant because you weren't listening. To be unequivocal." Ironic, as apparently it hadn't been. And neither of them had been listening to the other. "How I feel about you. And what I wan… what I'd like us to be."
"And how is that?" Aziraphale asked in a quiet voice.
The I love you, you idiot on the tip of his tongue probably wouldn't go over well, so he amended it before speaking. "I love you. I have for millennia." Why was it still so difficult the second time?
"And what do you want?" Aziraphale asked, seemingly gaining more resolve as he approached Crowley on feet that showed no hesitation.
This was the real question, wasn't it? With an answer that could bring salvation or destruction. "You. I want you—in whatever way you'll have me."
Another step closer. "I asked what you want."
Last time, he had taken the leap. This time, Aziraphale was pushing him off the cliff. Hopefully, that was a better portent. "I'd like us to be as close as we can be. We're more beings of earth than heaven or hell now. I need to know. To feel it," he whispered. The desire to show the love that had simmered inside him for thousands of years was overwhelming.
"I'm sorry."
Crowley choked on air.
"I'm sorry I made you go first," Aziraphale hasted to add as if realizing his words might be misconstrued. "You always were the brave one," he said. "Rushing in where this angel feared to tread."
"You were the strong one." Strong enough to cut his own heart out to keep them safe.
"Lend me your courage, and I'll lend you my strength," the angel murmured, stepping even closer.
"We're better together."
Now near enough, Aziraphale reached out and gently cupped Crowley's face. "If only it hadn't taken us so long to figure that out."
Speak for yourself, Crowley wanted to say but didn't. He was tired of fighting, sick of lying and pretending, and definitely weary of them hurting each other in the name of love. "What do you want?" he turned the question around.
"The same thing I've always wanted. You." In a show of courage, he drew Crowley in for a kiss.
Courage. Strength. Trust. Love.
They'd had all these, and now they also had the ingredient necessary to take that final step, to truly be Us.
Freedom.
The end
