The Known/Unknown Quantity

Chapter Six: Understanding

Chapter Six: Understanding

Their conversation was a murmured one, the kind done between two people with their arms resting on their knees. Turns out the angel had a grasp on physical love, in an academic sense. Through the decades he witnessed many things with a detached curiosity. What he did know was vast, but a bit spotty and disjointed in some crucial places.

Crowley supplied clarity and explained cause and effect, watching the angel's perplexed and often intrigued reactions. His ticks confirmed the things he might want to try, or not. Crowley went on further to explain that while the two of them had chosen to have certain genitals, it wasn't a guarantee of specific gender roles, or even the presence of a gender. So, they were finding out what worked.

"Clearly this is something you want to explore tonight," Crowley finished with uncharacteristic matter-of-factness. "Am I right?"

The angel nodded briskly, and looked off to the side.

"We don't have to do anything."

Back came Aziraphale's gaze, studying the terrible way Crowley's eyes sat so immense over his cheekbones. "Yes, we do."

Crowley pointed to one enormous pupil. "Not because of this. No pity fucks. Not your first time. It's about you tonight."

"Why can't it be both? Can't the result simply be your release from...that!"

"Only if it's a result of something you want to try, you got it?"

The angel smiled, scheming on how he could work this to his favor. Crowley knew he was, clever little bastard.

Then, the angel shook himself and stated, "Dear boy, I need to take another shower."

"Look, if this makes you feel icky, you're not ready."

"No, oh no. It's just...I need to prepare."

More time passed. Crowley came upstairs and rapped on the bedroom door, and when no one answered, he let himself in. In one arm he carried some bottles, water and lubricants, a couple of towels, and a box of latex gloves. He considered it a care package.

He leaned in without stepping over the threshold. Looking around he saw that the bathroom door was still shut after an hour, steam rising out of the bottom. He should have heard humming. The angel always hums when he's content.

But there was nothing. Soft unknown movements, an occasional vocalization, but all had been downgraded to whisper quiet, as if the Aziraphale wanted nothing too informative to escape thru the walls.

Crowley took his hand off the knob and stepped inside, placing the items on a small stand and pulling it up the foot of the bed. Next, he came over and leaned on the bathroom door, and rapped gently again. The movements instantly stopped, and there was a three second pause, and some shuffling, and the angel said," Yes, um, be out in a half-bounce!"

Crowley grinned, and pulled his jacket off. His glasses hung haphazardly in his shirt collar and his hand rose to retrieve them, but then he let it fall. When the door handle turned, he pulled away and placed his hands in his pockets, and his eyes fell downward.

In a wisp of cloudy vapor the angel's naked feet padded out onto the bed room floor. Crowley let his eyes trail upward, taking in a deep purple silk robe, bound a bit too tightly at the waist, arms clenched to the chest, fingers grasping the collar up the neck, and at last the angel's searching face and wet tight curls in profile to him. The angel's brow was furrowed, but when he turned and finally saw Crowley, it smoothed out, and he let out a silent sigh. His whole body relaxed by inches.