The smile makes her shiver. It's one Aziraphale never wore before their relationship began in earnest, open and acknowledged. A smile that just seemes to be for Crowley, one that combines the deep depths of Aziraphale's capacity for devotion (angelic and possibly infinite) with the sneaky bit-of-a-bastardness that Crowley adored in him from the start. It's a devastating combination, one that never fails to melt her from within.
She doesn't really need to lean on him as they go upstairs. But neither of them wants to move away from each other, aside from the small necessary moments like removing coats. And heels, in Crowley's case; she carries those up in her free hand, puts them in the closet in their room. Takes a deep breath before she turns around to look at him, trying to summon up some of her more usual casual flippancy.
(In the back of her mind she can still see the sign outside, official and permanent, their names side by side for all the world to see. Heaven and Hell, God, all the humans, everyone. It's one thing to be claimed in private and another to have it be so publically declared, and it's entirely possible Aziraphale is incapable of understanding just how world-altering it is. Good, yes, fucking miraculous, but also world-altering. Aziraphale might have been rejected by Heaven, but he never Fell. The difference is profound. Crowley doesn't intend to enlighten him)
"So--" she says, slinking back to him, hips swaying. "Keeping in mind that you've already treated me to dinner, a show replete with personal meaning for us, an intermission orgasm, and one of the most public demonstrations of affection imaginable...I'm honestly having trouble imagining how you can have anything else up your sleeve." She puts her hands on his shoulders, slides them down his arms. "Unless it's literally up your sleeve and you're wearing interesting lingerie. Or have some for me to model for you."
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timeasmymeasure
It does have possibilities! But gaaah still need to get back to Sherwood!
Date: 2020-01-02 10:30 pm (UTC)She doesn't really need to lean on him as they go upstairs. But neither of them wants to move away from each other, aside from the small necessary moments like removing coats. And heels, in Crowley's case; she carries those up in her free hand, puts them in the closet in their room. Takes a deep breath before she turns around to look at him, trying to summon up some of her more usual casual flippancy.
(In the back of her mind she can still see the sign outside, official and permanent, their names side by side for all the world to see. Heaven and Hell, God, all the humans, everyone. It's one thing to be claimed in private and another to have it be so publically declared, and it's entirely possible Aziraphale is incapable of understanding just how world-altering it is. Good, yes, fucking miraculous, but also world-altering. Aziraphale might have been rejected by Heaven, but he never Fell. The difference is profound. Crowley doesn't intend to enlighten him)
"So--" she says, slinking back to him, hips swaying. "Keeping in mind that you've already treated me to dinner, a show replete with personal meaning for us, an intermission orgasm, and one of the most public demonstrations of affection imaginable...I'm honestly having trouble imagining how you can have anything else up your sleeve." She puts her hands on his shoulders, slides them down his arms. "Unless it's literally up your sleeve and you're wearing interesting lingerie. Or have some for me to model for you."