Chapter Text
Dear Diary,
we did it! The world is still here, and so are we.
I'm sorry that I have neglected you for quite a bit, but this whole save-the-world-from-eternal-damnation business has demanded my priorities lay elsewhere. However, a strange thing happened the other night, and I feel a desperate need to straighten out my thoughts on the matter-and you, sweet diary, have always been so good to me.
You see, it was the night we got back to London from Tadfield (I’ll tell you all about that another time). We were both under the impression that our bookshop was still burned down (the horror!) and so Crowley, ever the darling, invited me to stay the night in his flat. It was very modern. I liked the plants!
Now, my steady companion does have a tendency to disappear into sleep for longer periods of time every now and again, and that night I was somewhat nervous that he was going to do just that. I would have felt terribly lonely, I think. He doesn’t have a single bookshelf in the entire flat!
I do believe he sensed my hesitation somehow, because not only did he keep me company throughout the night; he offered me a very nice bottle of 1998 Barolo Riserva. It felt like it had been forever since we had that sort of company.
Lovely diary, I’m sure you are now wondering what was so strange about this night that I would entirely refrain from telling you about the day we saved the world, how I disobeyed direct orders from heaven, how I got discorporated and shared a body with a delightful lady for a while, how we later found the book shop seemingly entirely unharmed and how we deceived both heaven and hell by the help of a long since diseased which!
But, you see, apart from our surroundings, the night itself was not strange at all.
Countless are the nights that me and Crowley have sat together and shared alcohol and witty words. In that regard this night was one amongst others. What was remarkable about this occasion in particular was the feeling that ran through my body along my second sip of wine.
Normally, I would have asked for a glass, of course but this night we drank the wine straight from its original vessel. (Such a pity on a good bottle – but I think saving the world earlier the same day counts for an okay excuse, just this once.)
Crowley uncorked the wine and offered it to me first. The taste was divine. Such deep and exquisite notes. Just what I needed after the week we’ve had. Anyhow, I handed the bottle over to Crowley-not thinking anything special of it until it had already left his mouth.
There was a little droplet of deepest red left on his lip.
I’m not sure how he didn’t feel it straight away, but as I raised the bottle for the second time his wicked tongue came out to lick it away, and something surged through me. The cold bottle lip against my mouth and the visual before me awakened something.
Something old.
A memory? A feeling? A thought.
How long had it been since I last felt his lips against mine?
Centuries, surely. It had been a very long time since kisses were a customary greeting on earth.
I felt somewhat silly the rest of the night, though it proceeded very pleasantly. Or, at least as pleasantly as one could expect after what we had gone through. We spoke some. Kept each other company. Came up with a plan for what had to happen next in order for us to ensure we would be left alone – at least for some time.
But the feeling never left me. I could hardly keep my eyes off his lips. If he noticed, he at least did not make any comments on the matter.
Oh, diary. What am I to make of this? I’m afraid that writing it all down hasn’t made me any wiser at all. If anything, it has made the feeling even more prominent.
I can see it clearly, still. The little drop of liquid gleaming in the low light.
I think I long to kiss it away.
You are a wonderful listener, as always. I’ll make sure to tell you all about the adventure we’ve been on another time. Right now, there is a particularly lovely smelling cup of tea waiting for me in the kitchenette.
Yours Always,
Aziraphale.