(no subject)
Title: The Twelve Days of Christmas
By: musegaarid & _serpensortia
Rating: PG-13
Summary: On the eleventh day of Christmas, an angel gave to me, a dash of reality...
Notes: The eleventh part of our twelve part holiday ficlet. Part one, Part two, Part three, Part four, Part five, Part six, Part seven, Part eight, Part nine, Part ten.
"Finally."
Crowley started, nearly stumbling as he entered his flat. Serpentine eyes snapped up to the slim figure seated in a sleek black arm chair. "Gabriel?" How the fuck hadn't he noticed an archangel in his living room?
"Indeed. Now do take off your trousers, won't you?"
The demon didn't move, and continued to stare at the angel. "Angel, if this is your idea of flirting..."
Gabriel looked thoroughly unamused. "Don't delay this unnecessarily, demon. Surely you've realized the pattern by now."
Crowley shifted, hoping that the archangel didn't notice how his clipped, pompous tone seemed to be working just fine in terms of this seduction. Fuck. Must have become some kind of conditioned response to the presence of an angel.
"Pattern? So..." But Gabriel had already gotten to his feet, stripped off the jacket of his gray suit, and was making his way unerringly toward Crowley's bedroom. "Wait, angel."
Gabriel turned, arching a brow.
"Do you... want a drink or something?"
Apparently he didn't. Crowley followed the angel into his bedroom, only to find that Gabriel was already unbuttoning his collared shirt.
"So... no witty banter? This is it?"
"I don't have all day, demon."
"You could at least stop calling me 'demon'."
Gabriel glanced up at him, his expression sober, then turned back to his last few buttons.
"And they say romance is dead," Crowley muttered, and settled on the bed. Gabriel looked up again, and this time, he saw something significant in the previously deadpan gaze. Crowley shifted, catching the angel's hand just as Gabriel was about to shrug out of his shirt. "Wait."
"Yes?"
"Maybe..." It was painful, really, even to think this while looking at the angel's chiseled expression, framed by dark hair, with that hint of smooth, pale abdomen revealed by his open shirt, but Crowley forced himself to say it. "Maybe we could just talk. Or something."
"You want to talk?"
Fuck, no. "Yeah."
Gabriel's eyes narrowed on the demon, but he nodded finally, and Crowley settled back, seated up against the headboard. Gabriel followed suit. "So," the angel said, "what did you want to talk about, exactly?"
"I don't know, just... seen any good films lately?"
Gabriel's expression was as dry as a beach towel in Hell.
"Right. So... "
"What made you stop me?" the angel asked abruptly. The question surprised Crowley, though Gabriel was pointedly avoiding his gaze.
"Well, I... I mean, you obviously. Didn't want to."
"And that mattered to you?"
"Well, of course it did, Gabriel," Crowley snapped. "I'm a demon, not a - Look, why have you suddenly got time for this when you were looking to wrap this up in two minutes before, anyway?"
Against all odds, Gabriel smiled.
This only made Crowley frown. "Wait... is that what this is about? I just had to refuse one of you?" Gabriel was silent. "It's not lust, so it's closer to love, is that it?"
"He can be taught," Gabriel muttered. He still did not meet Crowley's eyes; Crowley studied the angel's profile intently.
"But there must be more to it than that," the demon said. "You were all involved. It must have been something bigger if you were all involved..."
"Perhaps."
"Don't tell me. It's ineffable, right?"
Gabriel looked at the demon. Though his expression had returned to its usual neutral mask, his blue eyes were bright. "I think you could probably get to the bottom of it. If you're ready."
"If I'm ready. What sort of help is that? 'If you're ready,'" Crowley grumbled. "So I was supposed to learn something from all of this?"
The archangel shrugged unhelpfully.
Crowley muttered a string of choice curses before making a mental list of all his... encounters. "Well, Aziraphale started it."
"Your opposition."
"Right..." Crowley agreed vaguely. "He challenged me."
"And?"
"And that led me to Raphael..."
Gabriel made a noise of assent.
"Best massage I've ever had, by the way," Crowley added slyly. He was looking for a rise out of the solemn archangel, but mostly stalling for time. What had he learned during that massage? "I didn't know an angel could be so... thorough." He grinned. "Is that it? Touch, involving the whole body?"
The angel raised both eyebrows. Crowley took it as a sign of encouragement.
"And Raguel was the importance of the other senses. And Sariel..." He paused, eyes narrowed in thought. "Sariel was seeking out new sensations, new sensual experience."
Crowley noticed the corner of Gabriel's mouth twitching and continued. "Haniel was the voice, of course," he said, shuddering with the memory. "How important just words can be. Jeliel must be something about... being willing to get dirty."
Gabriel said nothing during this process, but was watching him in an almost interested fashion as Crowley continued to put together the pieces. "Remiel was the importance of bonding over common interest, and Michael was bondage, of course. Dominance and submission, and a hint of danger to make things more fun. Jophiel was honesty and secrets, each adding to the excitement in their own way. And Dobiel was," he grinned, "dressing for the occasion."
He looked at the angel, awaiting confirmation. "Am I close? I'm close, aren't I?"
Gabriel laughed.
Crowley's smug expression promptly fell into a look of confusion. Here he was, puzzling out the angels' motives, and the Messenger was practically doubled over in mirth.
"Honestly, Crowley," the angel managed, breathless, "you think we disrupted the entire angelic hierarchy just to teach you to be a better lover?"
Crowley bristled a bit. It didn't sound that ridiculous... did it? Shit.
"Well... what is it, then?" he demanded, sounding peevish even to his own ears.
Gabriel shook his head, still chuckling to himself. "I can't tell you that, Crowley. I told you, when you're ready..." He was standing now. Crowley noticed that the angel's shirt has suddenly righted itself.
"Wait. Where are you going?" the demon asked.
Gabriel smiled at him, not unkindly, until helplessly giving in to another bout of laughter. "I don't have all day..." And with that, the Messenger had left his bedroom and was gone.
"Fucking hilarious..."
By: musegaarid & _serpensortia
Rating: PG-13
Summary: On the eleventh day of Christmas, an angel gave to me, a dash of reality...
Notes: The eleventh part of our twelve part holiday ficlet. Part one, Part two, Part three, Part four, Part five, Part six, Part seven, Part eight, Part nine, Part ten.
"Finally."
Crowley started, nearly stumbling as he entered his flat. Serpentine eyes snapped up to the slim figure seated in a sleek black arm chair. "Gabriel?" How the fuck hadn't he noticed an archangel in his living room?
"Indeed. Now do take off your trousers, won't you?"
The demon didn't move, and continued to stare at the angel. "Angel, if this is your idea of flirting..."
Gabriel looked thoroughly unamused. "Don't delay this unnecessarily, demon. Surely you've realized the pattern by now."
Crowley shifted, hoping that the archangel didn't notice how his clipped, pompous tone seemed to be working just fine in terms of this seduction. Fuck. Must have become some kind of conditioned response to the presence of an angel.
"Pattern? So..." But Gabriel had already gotten to his feet, stripped off the jacket of his gray suit, and was making his way unerringly toward Crowley's bedroom. "Wait, angel."
Gabriel turned, arching a brow.
"Do you... want a drink or something?"
Apparently he didn't. Crowley followed the angel into his bedroom, only to find that Gabriel was already unbuttoning his collared shirt.
"So... no witty banter? This is it?"
"I don't have all day, demon."
"You could at least stop calling me 'demon'."
Gabriel glanced up at him, his expression sober, then turned back to his last few buttons.
"And they say romance is dead," Crowley muttered, and settled on the bed. Gabriel looked up again, and this time, he saw something significant in the previously deadpan gaze. Crowley shifted, catching the angel's hand just as Gabriel was about to shrug out of his shirt. "Wait."
"Yes?"
"Maybe..." It was painful, really, even to think this while looking at the angel's chiseled expression, framed by dark hair, with that hint of smooth, pale abdomen revealed by his open shirt, but Crowley forced himself to say it. "Maybe we could just talk. Or something."
"You want to talk?"
Fuck, no. "Yeah."
Gabriel's eyes narrowed on the demon, but he nodded finally, and Crowley settled back, seated up against the headboard. Gabriel followed suit. "So," the angel said, "what did you want to talk about, exactly?"
"I don't know, just... seen any good films lately?"
Gabriel's expression was as dry as a beach towel in Hell.
"Right. So... "
"What made you stop me?" the angel asked abruptly. The question surprised Crowley, though Gabriel was pointedly avoiding his gaze.
"Well, I... I mean, you obviously. Didn't want to."
"And that mattered to you?"
"Well, of course it did, Gabriel," Crowley snapped. "I'm a demon, not a - Look, why have you suddenly got time for this when you were looking to wrap this up in two minutes before, anyway?"
Against all odds, Gabriel smiled.
This only made Crowley frown. "Wait... is that what this is about? I just had to refuse one of you?" Gabriel was silent. "It's not lust, so it's closer to love, is that it?"
"He can be taught," Gabriel muttered. He still did not meet Crowley's eyes; Crowley studied the angel's profile intently.
"But there must be more to it than that," the demon said. "You were all involved. It must have been something bigger if you were all involved..."
"Perhaps."
"Don't tell me. It's ineffable, right?"
Gabriel looked at the demon. Though his expression had returned to its usual neutral mask, his blue eyes were bright. "I think you could probably get to the bottom of it. If you're ready."
"If I'm ready. What sort of help is that? 'If you're ready,'" Crowley grumbled. "So I was supposed to learn something from all of this?"
The archangel shrugged unhelpfully.
Crowley muttered a string of choice curses before making a mental list of all his... encounters. "Well, Aziraphale started it."
"Your opposition."
"Right..." Crowley agreed vaguely. "He challenged me."
"And?"
"And that led me to Raphael..."
Gabriel made a noise of assent.
"Best massage I've ever had, by the way," Crowley added slyly. He was looking for a rise out of the solemn archangel, but mostly stalling for time. What had he learned during that massage? "I didn't know an angel could be so... thorough." He grinned. "Is that it? Touch, involving the whole body?"
The angel raised both eyebrows. Crowley took it as a sign of encouragement.
"And Raguel was the importance of the other senses. And Sariel..." He paused, eyes narrowed in thought. "Sariel was seeking out new sensations, new sensual experience."
Crowley noticed the corner of Gabriel's mouth twitching and continued. "Haniel was the voice, of course," he said, shuddering with the memory. "How important just words can be. Jeliel must be something about... being willing to get dirty."
Gabriel said nothing during this process, but was watching him in an almost interested fashion as Crowley continued to put together the pieces. "Remiel was the importance of bonding over common interest, and Michael was bondage, of course. Dominance and submission, and a hint of danger to make things more fun. Jophiel was honesty and secrets, each adding to the excitement in their own way. And Dobiel was," he grinned, "dressing for the occasion."
He looked at the angel, awaiting confirmation. "Am I close? I'm close, aren't I?"
Gabriel laughed.
Crowley's smug expression promptly fell into a look of confusion. Here he was, puzzling out the angels' motives, and the Messenger was practically doubled over in mirth.
"Honestly, Crowley," the angel managed, breathless, "you think we disrupted the entire angelic hierarchy just to teach you to be a better lover?"
Crowley bristled a bit. It didn't sound that ridiculous... did it? Shit.
"Well... what is it, then?" he demanded, sounding peevish even to his own ears.
Gabriel shook his head, still chuckling to himself. "I can't tell you that, Crowley. I told you, when you're ready..." He was standing now. Crowley noticed that the angel's shirt has suddenly righted itself.
"Wait. Where are you going?" the demon asked.
Gabriel smiled at him, not unkindly, until helplessly giving in to another bout of laughter. "I don't have all day..." And with that, the Messenger had left his bedroom and was gone.
"Fucking hilarious..."