Crowley raises an eyebrow and places his pruning sheets on the ground, entirely heedless of potential rust. [footnote: They won't rust, of course. Aziraphale has made it Very Clear that no rust is allowed, and besides, Crowley has so much faith in them working well that they don't want to disappoint him.] He walks over towards Aziraphale, hips swaying a little with unconscious grace. "Well, I really didn't know enough to come out of the rain then, we'd never seen rain before."
He grins as he reaches up a hand to push dampened hair back from his forehead. It's still short, and he's been surprised by how much he's enjoying that, looking a bit different. It certainly hasn't put Aziraphale off at all, to judge by the waves of devotion still lapping at him. And there's a taste to that devotion, a heat, which he hasn't felt for a long time, hasn't thought about. They've been too distracted.
No, he's been too distracted. More fool him. He really ought to do something about that.
Crowley finally comes to stand in front of his demon, still smiling, still heedless of the rain. "What is it you remember about that day, then?"
BRING IT ON and I'll edit for Gardening Implements whatever later
He grins as he reaches up a hand to push dampened hair back from his forehead. It's still short, and he's been surprised by how much he's enjoying that, looking a bit different. It certainly hasn't put Aziraphale off at all, to judge by the waves of devotion still lapping at him. And there's a taste to that devotion, a heat, which he hasn't felt for a long time, hasn't thought about. They've been too distracted.
No, he's been too distracted. More fool him. He really ought to do something about that.
Crowley finally comes to stand in front of his demon, still smiling, still heedless of the rain. "What is it you remember about that day, then?"