(no subject)
Title: The Twelve Days of Christmas
By: musegaarid & _serpensortia
Rating: Still PG...
Summary: On the second day of Christmas, an angel gave to me, a lesson in anatomy...
Notes: The second part of our twelve part holiday ficlet. Part one.
They'd gotten most of the way through a rather thorough massage by the time the angel said anything, but Raphael did eventually wonder aloud at the demon's purpose for coming to him.
"Are you ever going to get around to telling me why you're really here?"
Crowley's vision was rather restricted by the massage table, or he would have tried for an innocent look. Instead, he just shrugged his bare shoulders. "I heard you were the best."
"Naturally," Raphael replied, though it was not pride that gave him confidence as much as simple knowledge that he had been created with full knowledge of all the issues of health, from medicine to meditation to massage. It had taken only a little digging on Crowley's part to find out that the archangel actually moonlighted as a massage therapist. Figures. Deny anyone sexual contact for that long, and they're bound to find some excuse to get their hands on an oiled, naked body.
He was indecently good at it, though.
"It's just that," Raphael continued thoughtfully, skilled fingers working Crowley's lumbar region, "I still don't get many demons ringing for late afternoon appointments."
"And since I'm a demon, I must have an ulterior motive?" Crowley finished dryly.
"Fair enough." For a moment, he thought the archangel would drop the issue; his hands continued to work delicately through knots of tension that Crowley hadn't even known he'd had. Then Raphael remarked, "But if you don't come out with it soon, I'm going to have to charge you for the full hour."
Crowley rolled his eyes. "All right, all right." The soft white sheet which had thus far maintained his decency slid artfully down one hip as he shifted to sit upright on the table.
"I just... had a question." He averted his eyes shyly, and considered a faint flush before writing it off as too much. Raphael may have been open-minded as angels go, but he'd still see through anything too blatant. "Something I've been wondering about lately."
"Oh?" The archangel settled himself next to the demon on the table, crossing his legs; he was wearing jeans with a fashionably ragged hole in one knee, and a t-shirt with some Sanskrit bullshit about peace scrawled across the chest. His eyes were dark and wide as he regarded the demon with a hint of compassion behind the curiosity. Crowley couldn't have asked for a better performance. He'd gotten close enough to the angel to see that Raphael was wearing dark eyeliner, and he'd barely had to ask.
"Do you think... do you think it's possible for a - a demon to still feel love?" Stilted, unsure, and then, just on cue, he drew his eyes up to meet the angel's.
Something shifted in Raphael's expression, his curiosity turning into an almost clinical interest. "Love?" He made a thoughtful sound. "A demon in love... well, that's all you were once, isn't it? Love. So I suppose it could be possible." He paused a beat, eyes narrowed upon Crowley. "Why do you ask?"
The demon shrugged again, willing himself to look lost and just a little forlorn. "Just... wondered. It's not important."
"Not important?" Raphael looked genuinely interested. "Love usually is..."
"Well, I just..." Crowley shook his head. Angels always fell for the vulnerable look. "Do you think you could help me?"
"Help you?"
"Help me remember." Crowley turned, bringing his face quite near the angel's. Raphael smelled of the same sweet mix of sandalwood and vanilla as his aromatherapy candles which burned cheerily all around them, giving a burnt orange glow to the angel's already tan skin.
"Crowley..." Raphael's lips nearly brushed the demon's as he spoke his name.
"Hmm?"
"I..." But the demon silenced him with the softest of kisses, perfect and sweet, honed by thousands of years of practice.
Raphael held his own quite well, really.
Crowley moved one hand to the archangel's knee, and was delighted when Raphael reciprocated with a hand on his shoulder - that is, until he realized that the archangel was pushing him away. He feared the worst until he saw that Raphael was actually grinning at him.
"I think it might just be possible, yes." With that, the angel stood, and set about gathering up the tools of his supposed trade.
"Wait. You can't - "
"Ever hopeful, demon," Raphael said with another bright smile. "That's the only way you'll find what you're looking for."
And then Raphael had disappeared. Crowley cursed and set about putting his clothes back on.
By: musegaarid & _serpensortia
Rating: Still PG...
Summary: On the second day of Christmas, an angel gave to me, a lesson in anatomy...
Notes: The second part of our twelve part holiday ficlet. Part one.
They'd gotten most of the way through a rather thorough massage by the time the angel said anything, but Raphael did eventually wonder aloud at the demon's purpose for coming to him.
"Are you ever going to get around to telling me why you're really here?"
Crowley's vision was rather restricted by the massage table, or he would have tried for an innocent look. Instead, he just shrugged his bare shoulders. "I heard you were the best."
"Naturally," Raphael replied, though it was not pride that gave him confidence as much as simple knowledge that he had been created with full knowledge of all the issues of health, from medicine to meditation to massage. It had taken only a little digging on Crowley's part to find out that the archangel actually moonlighted as a massage therapist. Figures. Deny anyone sexual contact for that long, and they're bound to find some excuse to get their hands on an oiled, naked body.
He was indecently good at it, though.
"It's just that," Raphael continued thoughtfully, skilled fingers working Crowley's lumbar region, "I still don't get many demons ringing for late afternoon appointments."
"And since I'm a demon, I must have an ulterior motive?" Crowley finished dryly.
"Fair enough." For a moment, he thought the archangel would drop the issue; his hands continued to work delicately through knots of tension that Crowley hadn't even known he'd had. Then Raphael remarked, "But if you don't come out with it soon, I'm going to have to charge you for the full hour."
Crowley rolled his eyes. "All right, all right." The soft white sheet which had thus far maintained his decency slid artfully down one hip as he shifted to sit upright on the table.
"I just... had a question." He averted his eyes shyly, and considered a faint flush before writing it off as too much. Raphael may have been open-minded as angels go, but he'd still see through anything too blatant. "Something I've been wondering about lately."
"Oh?" The archangel settled himself next to the demon on the table, crossing his legs; he was wearing jeans with a fashionably ragged hole in one knee, and a t-shirt with some Sanskrit bullshit about peace scrawled across the chest. His eyes were dark and wide as he regarded the demon with a hint of compassion behind the curiosity. Crowley couldn't have asked for a better performance. He'd gotten close enough to the angel to see that Raphael was wearing dark eyeliner, and he'd barely had to ask.
"Do you think... do you think it's possible for a - a demon to still feel love?" Stilted, unsure, and then, just on cue, he drew his eyes up to meet the angel's.
Something shifted in Raphael's expression, his curiosity turning into an almost clinical interest. "Love?" He made a thoughtful sound. "A demon in love... well, that's all you were once, isn't it? Love. So I suppose it could be possible." He paused a beat, eyes narrowed upon Crowley. "Why do you ask?"
The demon shrugged again, willing himself to look lost and just a little forlorn. "Just... wondered. It's not important."
"Not important?" Raphael looked genuinely interested. "Love usually is..."
"Well, I just..." Crowley shook his head. Angels always fell for the vulnerable look. "Do you think you could help me?"
"Help you?"
"Help me remember." Crowley turned, bringing his face quite near the angel's. Raphael smelled of the same sweet mix of sandalwood and vanilla as his aromatherapy candles which burned cheerily all around them, giving a burnt orange glow to the angel's already tan skin.
"Crowley..." Raphael's lips nearly brushed the demon's as he spoke his name.
"Hmm?"
"I..." But the demon silenced him with the softest of kisses, perfect and sweet, honed by thousands of years of practice.
Raphael held his own quite well, really.
Crowley moved one hand to the archangel's knee, and was delighted when Raphael reciprocated with a hand on his shoulder - that is, until he realized that the archangel was pushing him away. He feared the worst until he saw that Raphael was actually grinning at him.
"I think it might just be possible, yes." With that, the angel stood, and set about gathering up the tools of his supposed trade.
"Wait. You can't - "
"Ever hopeful, demon," Raphael said with another bright smile. "That's the only way you'll find what you're looking for."
And then Raphael had disappeared. Crowley cursed and set about putting his clothes back on.