His laughter fills the cab for a moment as they climb in together. "Wicked woman," he scolds affectionately, pulling her into his lap again before he gives the driver the address.
(Though the driver is normally quite a talkative fellow with his rides, for some reason tonight he finds himself perfectly content to keep his mouth shut. Especially whenever he glances in the rear view mirror and catches a glimpse of the redhead with the sunglasses. Oh well. At least they seem to be having a nice evening.)
Again they're enfolded in their own little bubble, only distantly aware of anything besides one another. Aziraphale wants to have the playbill framed; Crowley thinks they should hang it next to his dirty limerick. They laugh and tease and steal kisses, back and forth, and not for the first time Aziraphale finds himself almost hoping one of his old coworkers would dare to have a peek at him. Though probably they'll have convinced themselves by now that watching an angel and demon sinning together will turn them blind, or something equally ridiculous*.
At last they pull up to their own little corner of the city--home, for as long as they want it to be, as long as they happen to be there together.
The painters he hired have been finished for about an hour, and as requested have packed up to take the rest of the night off. Already there's an email sitting in the tray of Aziraphale's dot matrix printer from the young woman who supervised the team, with a quick report on how the job went (smoothly) and an expression of gratitude for hiring a local business (effusive).
Their work is evident above the door.
CROWLEY, FELL & CO. Booksellers * Established 1800 Unusual * Antiquarian * Out of Print
* There is, in fact, a rumor to this effect in Heaven. Sandalphon started it.
[ooc: RIGHT? And lord have mercy now I want this dragon/princess scenario so much. We should do the thing.]
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timeasmymeasure
HA! I heard the Cats movie is a living nightmare. Also TA-DAAAAAA.
Date: 2019-12-31 01:34 am (UTC)(Though the driver is normally quite a talkative fellow with his rides, for some reason tonight he finds himself perfectly content to keep his mouth shut. Especially whenever he glances in the rear view mirror and catches a glimpse of the redhead with the sunglasses. Oh well. At least they seem to be having a nice evening.)
Again they're enfolded in their own little bubble, only distantly aware of anything besides one another. Aziraphale wants to have the playbill framed; Crowley thinks they should hang it next to his dirty limerick. They laugh and tease and steal kisses, back and forth, and not for the first time Aziraphale finds himself almost hoping one of his old coworkers would dare to have a peek at him. Though probably they'll have convinced themselves by now that watching an angel and demon sinning together will turn them blind, or something equally ridiculous*.
At last they pull up to their own little corner of the city--home, for as long as they want it to be, as long as they happen to be there together.
The painters he hired have been finished for about an hour, and as requested have packed up to take the rest of the night off. Already there's an email sitting in the tray of Aziraphale's dot matrix printer from the young woman who supervised the team, with a quick report on how the job went (smoothly) and an expression of gratitude for hiring a local business (effusive).
Their work is evident above the door.
Booksellers * Established 1800
Unusual * Antiquarian * Out of Print
* There is, in fact, a rumor to this effect in Heaven. Sandalphon started it.
[ooc: RIGHT? And lord have mercy now I want this dragon/princess scenario so much. We should do the thing.]