middleofsomewhere | The Mountain Top: Grasshopper 25

After the strangeness of their second day on the island for some, with memories and conversations in a cave, the third day goes calmly.

At least until mid afternoon. As the day winds on into evening all of those who have been sharing memories with others will feel a pull.

A pull to climb the mountain in the north. It is a good feeling, that mountain is where you need to be. A sense of belonging, friendship, camaraderie. You don't need to be alone, just climb the mountain.

For those that climb they will find worn wooden benches spaced around the lip of the caldera in concentric circles, the centre set up like an amphitheatre. The Jema syrup spills from crevices around the edges, running down from the peak in well-worn grooves and channels.

The sun sets slowly on Jema’grethy, slowly sinking into the ocean over a period of a couple of hours. During that time pairs of Voidtreckers will feel drawn towards the syrup, to touch the surface.

When they do they will receive a memory and find themselves back in that cave once more. For those watching it is as if they are in a trance, lasting a few moments.

People feel moved at different times and so there are always people aware, sat around the mountain top. It might be that there are other friends they wish to speak to about what they see. It might be that they wish to sit silently and avoid everything, if only their friends will allow it.

But it is a place to be together nonetheless.

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Crowley's head tilts to the side, his lips pursing together and eyebrows furrowing in a way that reads sympathetic but is really utter disbelief. The idea of him not accepting the angel's apology is unheard of and frankly ludicrous. Even for his faults, Aziraphale is the sweetest person he's ever known. The irony of the situation isn't lost on Crowley, he is the unforgivable, and he's being asked for forgiveness. It's almost strange enough that he could laugh, but all that comes out is a weird cough.

"Forgive you? Angel, we're well past that." he sighs, his thumb stroking over Aziraphale's cheek adoringly. "Of course. I love you, Aziraphale."

His eyes are still wet, renewed by the wavering he hears in the angel's own voice. Leaning in, he presses a kiss to Aziraphale's forehead before tugging his head close to his own chest, cradling him there. He can be strong for Aziraphale now, just as he's always had to be.

"Have you been upset about this all this time?" he asks weakly, "You really need to learn to talk to me."

Aziraphale chuckles, a sound a bit heavy with the tension of holding back something overwhelming, but he's happy to be held. The safety and comfort he's found in Crowley's arms is nothing like the creature comforts he's known during his six thousand years on Earth (and beyond).

He wraps his arms around the demon. "I've made many mistakes. I suppose I still am." But still, he smiles. Relief? Thankfulness? Maybe all of it. "I'll keep trying, my dear."

These are all very human emotions, but when a creature lives among humanity for as long as they have, it picks some things up along the way. Crowley’s hand rubs idly at Aziraphale’s back, his chin dipping down again so that he can kiss the top of his head.

"As am I." he sighs, "I'll keep trying, too."

An idle sniff that is not at all related to the wetness of his eyes, and a smile that stays despite the fact that he doesn't think it's all resolved just yet. But, for now, it seems like they have found a good ground to stand on, even if, yet again, they've been somewhat forced there.

After a comfortable moment or two, he shifts and sits up, somewhat subtly passing his pinky finger over the corner of his eye, a tad bit more settled than before. He looks at Crowley, smiling still, and, after a pause, reaches his hands up towards his sunglasses.

"May I?"

Subtle or not, Crowley pets back his hair, comforting him while he composes himself again. The request to remove his glasses does catch him offguard, but Crowley nods. Anything puffy and red beneath them wouldn't last too long.

At least they had gotten most of it out before missing the sunset. Although it's truly an odd sight, and despite what it's put them through, Crowley has had a rather lovely time on the island with Aziraphale. He certainly doesn't want to be back inside a cramped train where they're afforded no privacy.

Carefully, very carefully, he removes the glasses from Crowley's face, affording him a moment to just look at his lovely golden eyes. He does actually enjoy seeing those more than his own reflection twofold, and the way that look now, more real than the looks the demon usually affords, something closer to what he really is, feels truly special.

For that moment, he smiles, just enjoying them. He reaches a free hand over, cupping his cheek.

"I love you too, my dear." As he clearly didn't forget. He leans forward, pressing his lips to Crowley's.

Crowley's returned glance is ever so fond, enamored by the way the angel looks at him and touches at his face. He had almost not realized that the angel hadn't said those words back, still caught up in his own head, but when he does, Crowley coughs out a little puff of air, smiling weakly as his own head leans forward, tilting just so to match the angel's lips against his.

Kissing is still so new, but it brings him so much joy and comfort, and his arms slide around Aziraphale again, tugging him close. Against Aziraphale like this, feeling his warmth and love radiating through him, the crashing of waves in the distance and the light dimming overhead, time stands still and feels perfect, if only for the moment.

It does feel like a perfect moment. He hopes they get more perfect moments. Strange and wonderful, when they can be themselves and with each other. For a moment, a memory of that one evening in the quiet car, the both of them tipsy and in good spirits, sat alone together, holding each other as faint music played from nowhere. And that other moment, too, when they were in that dusty, dark hut, listening to the rain pouring outside and the fire crackling in front of them, sharing a blanket in rare quiet bliss.

He hopes they'll have more of those moments. He hopes they'll be perfect in their surrounding strangeness.

He breaks the kiss after a solid while, instead moving to lean against the demon and rest his head on his shoulder, sighing as if he'd just dropped a giant weight off of his shoulders. It wasn't long ago that he'd think this unbecoming. But, right now, he couldn't care less.

The Mountain Top: Grasshopper 25

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