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Sway

The Slowdancing Meme

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Whether it's someone you know, someone you love, or someone you've never seen before, and whether it's at a ball, a prom or a garden party, whether it's in your living room, in your garden, sometimes you just want to hold someone close and sway with them. Feel their hand in yours, lead or follow, and feel them close. Steal a moment in time where nothing has to weigh on you but their head on your shoulder.

How to play

1. Comment with your character, fandom and any preferences

2. Pick other characters to tag out to

3. RNG from the following prompts, or come up with your own!

Prompts

1. A formal occasion - This could be a ball, a masquerade, a prom, a gala, a wedding. You're dressed up. Did you bring a date? Do you have room on your dance card? Are you hoping to catch someone's eyes?

2. A date - Not quite dressed up, but it's a special occasion. First date, anniversary, a chance encounter at an old fashioned music hall?

3. At home - Maybe it's 2am in the kitchen, maybe you want to charm them after a home cooked meal, maybe you just want to show that your record player and vinyls have special merit.

4. Wildcard

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"Never tried growing them in an actual garden before," Crowley muses. He steals another kiss. "But I 'spose I'll need a hobby. And we need a place large enough to hold all your books, obviously."

"Oh, yes, well, that shouldn't be too difficult to manage," Aziraphale says with a faint smile. After all, the bookshop itself is quite a bit bigger on the inside than on the outside. It's grown significantly over the couple of centuries he's had it, without actually increasing dimensions.

"And close to some nice restaurants," he adds.

Crowley's old flat was bigger on the inside too. It's a useful trick. Which reminds him, he should stop by there to pick up a few things. Decorate the walls in Aziraphale's library with some of the art he's picked up over the centuries, maybe. Putting a bit of himself into the room in a way he never could here in the bookshop.

Oh, he likes that idea.

"I could go for somewhere nearer the coast," he says. "Enough that we could head down for an afternoon by the seaside, maybe."

"Sussex," Aziraphale says, almost immediately, at that suggestion. "An easy drive from London, and just as easy to the coast. And it's lovely there in the summer."

"Sounds good." They could come back into London whenever they wanted, for shows or meals or whatever. But they'd still be away, in their own place. Best of both worlds.

No, just the best of one world. This world.

"We could start tomorrow," he says. "Take the Bentley, do some exploring. See the sights and keep an eye out for an area that catches our fancy. If you like."

"Yes," Aziraphale says, almost breathless, his eyes bright and his smile genuine. "Yes, I would like that very much."

He doesn't need to argue, doesn't need to tell Crowley why it's a bad idea or why their sides wouldn't like it. He can just want. And be. And take pleasure in having Crowley with him, openly.

"I haven't purchased property in over two centuries, I'll have to do some research," he adds, preparing to get into the spirit of things.

Crowley chuckles, a bit ruefully. "Yeaaaah...'fraid you'll be doing the paying for it, if we're doing this the legitimate way. My bank account has mothballs in it." He ilta his head, considers. "Actually I'm not sure I have one anymore, come to think of it."

Aziraphale laughs, free and easy. "You always were a bit of a cheater that way, my dear. I wouldn't worry, though. I'm sure I have plenty of funds for a home purchase."

He's probably got enough to purchase several homes if he wanted to - he first bought London real estate back in the seventeenth century. Needless to say, that real estate is very valuable today.

Still smiling, he tugs Crowley into a kiss.

"I wasn't cheating," he protests mildly. "Sent all my bills on to Hell's finance departments. Not my fault they stopped paying them."

Except that it absolutely is, but it's fun to be able to joke about it all a bit.

(It's done. It's hard to believe, but it is. They're free, both of them, absolutely and completely free.)

Crowley falls into the kiss willingly, makes it last. Lets his lips tug at Aziraphale's, raises a hand to Aziraphale's face, caresses his cheek with his thumb.

Aziraphale hums into the kiss, pleased as punch about the whole situation.

"I've been dreaming of this for quite some time, you know," he murmurs with a faint blush. "I didn't think it could ever happen." Not because he didn't think Crowley reciprocated, but because of Everything Else. Now that Everything Else is gone, and they don't have to worry about it.

"Dreaming of me being your own personal kept demon?" Crowley responds, brushing his nose alongside Aziraphale's and smiling. "Seeing as you'll be paying all the bills..." He takes another kiss, sweet and lingering. "How long, angel? What'd you imagine?"

Aziraphale blushes furiously. "Oh, not like that," he mutters, dropping his forehead to Crowley's shoulder with a little titter. "Just - us. Together. Since 1941."

Crowley chuckles and lets the risque joke part of it pass. "Nothing more specific? Nothing you particularly imagined us doing?"

"Everything," Aziraphale admits. "There's nothing I want to do without you, I'm afraid you may be stuck with me forever now."

He smiles, turning to kiss Crowley's temple, right at the snake tattoo.

"Lying in bed with you," he adds after a moment. "I know how you like to nap. I could nap, or read. Or we could sit in a garden together. You with your head in my lap."

Crowley's breath catches. "I'd like that," he says quietly, after a long pause. "I'd like that a lot."

It occurs to him that they've been standing embraced in the middle of the bookshop for quite some time, dancing entirely forgotten. (The gramophone, having provided some suitably sweeping romantic music for their first kiss, politely turned itself off afterwards). "We could do that now?" he suggests, a bit hesitantly. "Not the garden bit, haven't got one of those yet. But the other bit. If we convince your sofa it's big enough."

Aziraphale blushes at the thought, but nods. "There's a bed, upstairs. If you'd like."

It's not a bed that usually gets any use, but it'll be comfortable, and large enough, if it knows what's good for it.

Crowley's heart flips over in his chest. He tries to find words, but in the end just nods.

Aziraphale smiles, tentative and hopeful, and takes Crowley's hand, leading him upstairs to the flat.

The bedroom smells a bit musty - it clearly hasn't been used much, but there's no dust, and the bed itself is plenty large enough for both of them.

"Oh, I suppose humans don't lie in bed in their clothes, do they?" he asks, blushing. Then he snaps his fingers and suddenly, he's wearing an old-fashioned set of pajamas, soft cotton with buttons all down the front of the shirt. They're striped, eggshell and sky blue, because of course they are.

At least they aren't tartan.

The last time Crowley was up here, he was handing Jim/Gabriel a cup of hot chocolate after threatening him. It feels like a lifetime ago.

Crowley could point out that humans do like in their clothes in bed sometimes, but he's rather distracted by this turn of events. Instead he just silently raises a hand and snaps, turning his own outfit into a set of black silk pyjamas.

Aziraphale smiles at the change. "Oh, those are lovely. Here -"

He pulls back the covers, and maybe it's a bit awkward, figuring out who should be on which side, or the best positioning for arms and legs, but it's a bit funny, too, and by the time they settle, Aziraphale is giggling a bit, hair mussed and face a little flushed. He runs a hand over Crowley's silk-clad chest, enjoying the feeling - and the freedom to touch.

"I think I've seen humans do this in films," he says thoughtfully.

Crowley is still feeling a bit stunned. Aziraphale's hand resting on his chest only makes things more surreal. (only one layer of cloth between his hand and bare skin, one layer, and it's silk! Plus they're lying down in a bed at the same time!!)

Don't get him wrong, it's wonderful and there's nowhere else he'd rather be, nothing he'd rather be doing. This is perfect. It's just also stunning,

Aziraphale looks so happy. Soft and playful and nicely tousled.

(Crowley's had dreams like this)

"Yeah," he says. "Common thing in films. And real life." He frowns suddenly. "Hang on, what sort of films are we talking about here?"

"Hm?" Aziraphale glances at Crowley's face, surprised at being asked a question. "Oh, all sorts of films. Dramas, romances, even some comedies I think."

Yes, this is really quite nice. The bed is comfortable, and Crowley even moreso, despite his lanky-ness. He seems very relaxed, if a bit - well, wide-eyed at their situation.

"Thank you," he adds.

Oh. Good. Just checking. This evening is surreal enough as it is. Nice, but surreal.

...which he suddenly remembers is a line from a Richard Curtis film. Some irony there.

Aziraphale still has his hand on his chest, is still smiling at him. Is still lying opposite him in a bed. And thanking him, as though this is some sort of trial instead of the best thing that's ever happened to him. "What on earth for?"

Aziraphale is quiet for a moment, thoughtful. He doesn't want to ruin the comfortable, cozy mood. But he doesn't want to keep anything from Crowley, ever again.

"For giving me this. Even after - everything."

Crowley reaches up a hand to cover Aziraphale's where it's still resting on his chest.

"Think that's my line."

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