Missione 7: prompt 014
Times cures it all.
“Bullshit.” Groaned Crowley.
He was laying in his bed, half-buried in the pillows. It was still early judging by the noises from outside. He covered his eyes with his arm groaning again.
He dreamed of him again. With years passing by the memory of his beloved Aziraphale became sort of ethereal. The shape of his face blurred and the feeling of his small body pressed against his only a far memory.
Only two things didn’t fade at all in his mind: the bright blue of eyes and the longing feeling of unconditioned love.
Aziraphale was somewhere on the other side of the world and he was never going to see him again. After five years his beautiful boy was probably a beautiful young man now, with a new life and maybe a wife.
Crowley pushed away that thought exasperated. He wished so hard he could just move on.
He sat on the bed giving up on sleeping. It was going to be one of those days.
He walked through the palace toward his private pool. A servant let a pile of pillows fall surprised to see him up so early. Embarrassed he tried to collect them bowing at the same time.
Crowley walked away putting him out of his misery, too tired even to smile.
The cool water came as a relief to his exhausted body. He could have spent days in the water, thriving as a plant in the heat of the desert.
But of course, someone had to burst in.
“There you are!” Said his beloved son Adam. “We have been looking for you for an hour!”
“My sweet child, so lively first thing in the morning, how can this old man help you.” Said Crowley lifting his glasses at him before sipping the grape juice.
“Don’t my child me, WARLOCK!” He screamed calling for his brother. “I refuse to believe you forgot what day is today!”
“Where is him?” Said his lovely second son walking him. Growing the boys’ resemblance faded leaving two beautiful but very different young man behind. Whare Adam was almost blond with a bright intelligence and leadership attitude, Warlock was dark brown-haired, smooth in political formalities and very popular with the ladies.
Together they were a perfect match.
“I forgot, didn’t he?” Said Warlock ignoring the father.
“I didn’t, is Wednesday, see? I still got the calendar right.
“He forgot.” Said Adam. “Doesn’t the words ‘new ambassador’ rang a bell.”
“Oh, right… the third new English ambassador in six years, I’m so excited I think I’m gonna pass.” Said Crowley rolling his eyes.
“Yeah, mom said you would say that.” Warlock looked almost uncaring checking his nails. “She also said that Belzebub is marrying again and she has the invite.”
“She wouldn’t dare…” Crowley knew he already lost.
“Yeah, because mom is so forgiving.” Said Adam. “See you in half an hour downstairs, please remember the clothes.” He said closing his door just in time for Crowley glasses to crush on it.
“Oh, my… he lives!” Said Anathema when Crowley entered the carriage. “And clothed! I thought you forgot how to use those.”
“Please dear, clothes are a social construction.”
“You could have shaved at least.” Said Warlock twitching his nose in disapproval.
“As if anyone is going to notice.” What was with everyone today?
“We’ll see about that.” Said Adam looking out of the window.
Year after year Crowley slowly retracted from social life. He focused all of his energy on his company. The trade with England was doing great. Lucien was now in charge of their London office and their business was best than ever.
Everything was just great.
Except it wasn’t.
Crowley dreamed much time to go to London himself. But then what? Crushing in Aziraphale new life non requested. What they were going to tell people? Tha they met when he bought him from the slave trade?
If he could only saw him once again. Just to check if he remembered correctly the shade of blue of his eyes. Just to be sure.
They were close to those that were looking at him.
Probably it was the new ambassador. He looked so young but it didn’t mean anything. Wasn’t he hot with that English three pieces? His blond hair was so English, with his fair completion it felt like he was almost glowing between the presents.
Anathema was looking at him. Did she say something?
Probably to go and great the lord. Better get over with it so he could go back home.
Aziraphale wasn’t ready for this.
I thought he was but the moment Crowley walked in the room his mind blanked out.
The prince barely showed the signs of the years they spent apart. That being said he had a different aura in the way he moved. His clothes were kind of castigated, neat and in a neutral colour so far to the flashy appearance Aziraphale remembered. He was wearing his hair tied high on the back of his head; Aziraphale craved the feeling of running his fingers through the red curls.
The most surprising things were that he wasn’t wearing his glasses, it was almost comical the way the people run from his gaze.
The prince set his eyes on him.
He looked almost bored.
Aziraphale felt pressure on his chest. What was his thinking?
A man like Crowley could have anyone. He surely forgot the young boy he sent to England so many years before. It was an error.
He shouldn’t have come.
Crowley trailed closer and Aziraphale panicked. What was he going to say?
“My lord, I’m Crowley the bastard prince, glad you are here wish you enjoy your stay.” He says.
He looked so formal. Something was off.
Aziraphale opened his mouth but he had no idea of what to say.
Those eyes which tormented his dreams were so close now.
“Master…” He let out in a breath so low that he wasn’t even sure that the prince heard it.
His eyes popped open comically wide as he faltered forward.
Aziraphale cached him before he could collapse on the floor.
They were touching. Finally. He felt sparkle running through his body.
“The prince isn’t feeling well.” Someone said. After years he couldn’t be sure but maybe it was Anathema.
“I’ll take him to the other room.” He said, the confidence coming out of thin air.
They walked together, the prince was still silent. His body felt smaller against his no that he was all grow up.
It wasn’t the best moment but in a corner of his mind, he wondered how would feel to hold him now.
He found a couch in the empty room and they collapsed on it.
“You are here.” Said Crowley, his hands wandering on his body, touching his shoulder, following the lines of his face as he was going to disappear.
Weak to his touches Aziraphale reached for the prince hands holding them close with trembling fingers.
“I’m here.” He said pressing his cheek on the warm palm. The prince broke in front of his eyes. He started crying in a very uncool way.
He never looked more beautiful.
He leaned forward meeting him in a sweet kiss. It was slow and soft. Full of long lost feelings.
But Aziraphale wasn’t a boy anymore.
He pushed the prince back on the sofa before moving over him.
Crowley let out a surprised sound before his lips were assaulted again. Aziraphale kissed him in a hungry manner that left him breathless. The prince was lost in the kiss. His hand hooked on Aziraphale’s back.
They went at it for a long time and at some point, they ended up sitting on the floor curled together.
“How?” Said Crowley enjoying his strong angel hugging him close.
“After I came back to London I studied with the best tutors avoiding the public scene. I was famous for obvious reason but after a while, people lost interest. Lucien and Alec helped me and at some point, it was just pointless staying in London. No one wanted to come here after the last three ambassadors and I had a… unique knowledge of this country so they just let me have it.” He was paying with a red lock, his eyes enamoured with the shade.
Crowley stole another kiss but then he suddenly froze in his embrace pulling back.
“Something wrong dear?”
Crowley looked like his heart was breaking while he forced the words out.
“We don’t have to do this.” He said. “You are free now. You can have a family…
“Prince Crowley!” Burst Aziraphale stopping him right where he was. “I want to do this! I never wanted anyone else but you. I’m a grow free man and I think I waited long enough. I love you.”
Crowley’s mouth gaped.
Thank God Aziraphale knew what to do with it. He pulled him closer kissing him hard, pushing all of his love, his desire and his affection in the kiss.
When he let go Crowley’s lips were red and swollen. Aziraphale liked it a lot, He wondered how Crowley would look under him. Maybe the prince would let him do it this time. Not that mattered, as long as they were together.
“The people will speak.”
“They barely do anything else, not our fault if their life is boring.”
Crowley laughed for the first time maybe in months and Aziraphale soon followed him.
It was releasing.
As if someone lifted a rock that was pressing over his lungs.
There were going to be time for the details.