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

*she beams, delighted, and lifts a hand to trace his jaw, run a thumb across his lips*

Thank you.

*he rolls his eyes*

I'm a pushover for a pretty face.

*she pokes out her tongue*

I could always change back?

As if it'd make any difference at all.

Damn you.

I'd rather you didn't, if it's all the same to you.

*she's pink, though, and kisses the corner of his mouth lightly*

There are so many retorts, I don't even know where to begin.

How about you don't, and we pretend you did. It saves time, and possibly a good swatting.

But angel, the danger is what makes life worth living...

*she quirks an eyebrow*

Possibly for you, dear boy. I find other things to count amongst my blessings.

I hope that wasn't partly about me, or I'd have to ask you to mind your language.

Oh no. You're the cross I bear.

*contentedly*

That's better.

*with a convincing front of idleness, Crowley slips his arm back around Aziraphael's waist, just far enough to rest his hand on the intriguing curve of her hip once more*

*slightly pink, she takes a sip of her Atlantean*

I don't know how I put up with you.

'S cos I carry your bags when you go shopping.

*she flushes dark red at that, reaching to take his hand and squeezing it slightly*

Ah, yes. Sorry about that.

*she sounds rather like she's suppressing a laugh*

*he snorts, thumb moving lightly against her hip*

No you're not.

*she shifts slightly*

I... no, you're right. I'm really not.

*she traces the lines of his palm*

*he watches her slender fingertips move across his hand, struck again by how small the angel's hand is. He's almost afraid to close his own around it, for fear of breaking it*

*since Crowley remains still, she skims her fingers over the heel of his hand and onto his wrist, feeling his heartbeat against her skin. She's oddly intent*

*he wonders how well Aziraphael can feel the quickening of the pulse beneath her hand. If he'd thought to hide his reaction, it's given away when he swallows, dry-mouthed. His thumb slips beneath the hem of the angel's top, resting aganst the skin there*

*she draws in a quick breath, nails digging slightly, unnoticed, into Crowley's skin. She looks up at the demon*

*those blue eyes are dangerous to look at, so his eyes flicker downwards. It's not like last time, and he's not taken by surprise, and slowly, haltingly, he leans in, and hesitates, and then brushes painfully careful lips over Aziraphael's*

*his kiss is different but the taste is the same, familiar and intoxicating. She moans softly and opens her mouth, touches his lips fleetingly with her tongue*

*he exhales shakily, hand tightening on her hip, and allows his tongue to flicker over the angel's lips in return*

*slowly she deepens the kiss, brushing her tongue against his. One hand still clutches his wrist tightly while the other lifts to the back of his neck, fingertips running along the line where collar meets skin*