milliways_bar | (no subject)

Current Mood: determined

(no subject)

*In the doorway, Crowley and a small blonde woman appear. She's holding tightly to his hand, but as soon as she's taken a seat in a booth he bows his head slightly, grinning, and heads to the bar. She watches him, chewing her lip thoughtfully*

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

*the demon returns momentarily, bottle of Atlantean and a couple of glasses in hand, taking care to scan the room for Bernard along the way*

*she smiles at him and waits, one eyebrow raised*

*with exaggerated solicitude, Crowley pours the angel a glass of wine*

*she leans over, close to his ear*

Thank you, my dear.

*his eyes flicker up to meet hers*

Anything else?

*she licks her lips, stomach tightening*

That's up to you.

I - well.

We'll see.

*her sigh isn't entirely steady*

I intensely dislike you.

*he looks almost entirely innocent*

What?

*she just looks at him, fiddling absently with the ribbon around her neck*

*he swallows slightly, eyes following her hand. The ribbon is slightly loose around her neck. He cleas his throat, gesturing at it*

I could...?

Please.

*she's talking about the ribbon.

Mostly*

*he turns slightly in the booth as the angel lifts her hair out of the way to allow access. Eyes intent, his fingers work slowly at the knot, smoothing the silky material once around her throat before re-tying it*

*she catches his hand before he can withdraw it, leaning in to kiss him, long and hard, her other hand cupping his face*

*he makes a soft sound in the back of his throat, as his other hand drifts to her hip. It strokes gently up and down, the unfamiliar curves eliciting a hitching breath*

*the sound is echoed in her throat, breathed into his mouth, half-familiar sensations making her heart race*

*and suddenly his eyes slam open and he pulls back, scowling at Aziraphael. The effect is slightly undermined by the dazed look in his eyes*

That was... underhand.

*she bites her lip*

It... wasn't because of that. I'm sorry.

*she considers*

Actually no, no I'm not.

*he takes a sulky sip of his wine, before something seems to occur to him.

He checks his watch. And cackles, before he can help himself.

Looking extremely smug, he extends his wrist for the angel to see. On the watch, the minute hand slides forward to mark six minutes past midnight*

*her face falls*

Well damn.

*Crowley's face is a picture of smug, smug triumph*

*she lifts her glass*

Congratulations, my dear.

*she might possibly mutter a rude word into her glass*

*Crowley is positively radiating smugness*

I told you I could do it.

*she scowls*

Yes. Well done, you.

*Crowley is smug in Aziraphael's general direction*

Don't be a sore loser, angel.