Take These Broken Wings And Learn To Fly

Chapter Seven

Well. I suppose we all figured where this might be going.

Have 5k of filth, my dears. You're welcome xD

~oOo~oOo~oOo~

"You want me? Fucking take me then, coward!"

Before he knows what's happening, Aziraphale has eliminated the last bit of space between them and captured Crowley's mouth in a frantic kiss, swallowing the choked noise of surprise that rips from the demon's throat.

It's forceful and desperate, the same way it had been that first time, only now it's Aziraphale who has the lapels of Crowley's shirt fisted in his hands, Aziraphale who hauls him in and presses their lips together like it's the only time he'll get to do it.

Crowley leans into it desperately, helplessly. His mind goes blank, all the anger he fuelled up as self-defence only moments ago blown out by the sensation of Aziraphale's tongue curling against his own. He finds himself with his back against the wall, his fingers tangling and twisting in platinum locks before he can think better of it, demanding lips moving against Crowley's and coaxing a shameless moan from him.

Aziraphale breaks away, his panting breath ghosting over Crowley's parted lips.

"This." Aziraphale's voice is low and breathy in Crowley's ear. "This is what I wanted to do that day."

It's obvious what day he's talking about, a day Crowley has vehemently avoided thinking back to, because it's catalogued in his mind as the day he lost his angel for good. Only, his angel is here, right now. He's holding Crowley against the wall with a sure grip, keeping him caged in and helpless, and he's standing so close, so close-

"You said-" Crowley swallows, his mouth dry, breathing heavy. But you said- "You said you forgave me", he manages, aiming for accusatory, and missing spectacularly as it comes out high and pleading instead.

Aziraphale shakes his head, something pained in his eyes.

"I wanted to hold onto you and kiss you until you forgot your own name", Aziraphale says, leaning in to press his mouth to Crowley's throat. "I wanted to push you against one of my bookshelves", he says, lips grazing against Crowley's skin, "just like this. I wanted to learn the shape of your lips and the taste of your tongue."

Crowley groans, can do nothing but watch as Aziraphale draws back and looks at him, his eyes overtaken by a dark sort of sadness.

"But I couldn't do any of that, could I?", the angel says. "Not right then. If I'd let myself touch you, I couldn't have brought myself to leave you afterwards. And I had to leave, we both know I did."

Yes, Crowley knows, but it doesn't make him hate the fact any less.

"You know what you did, don't you, Crowley?" There's a dangerous edge to Aziraphale's voice now, something hurt but thrilling nonetheless. "You took our first kiss from us", the angel says. "I had wanted it for so long, and you took it from me."

I forgive you.

Crowley feels tears spring to his eyes, hot and stinging in the corners. He sucks in a sharp gulping breath, but it does nothing to release the ache in his chest.

"Oh no nonono." Aziraphale lets go of Crowley's shirt with one hand, cups it around the demon's face instead. "None of that now, look at me. Look at me."

Crowley does, yellow eyes wide and unguarded, and it feels so naked and exposed, it feels terrifying and freeing.

"I understand", Aziraphale says, "I hurt you. We were both hurting. But I wished I could have forgotten everything that held me back. I wanted to forget all about Heaven, all about the threats and dangers and offers. I wanted to forget anything but you and your lips on mine."