Contrary to Popular Belief (Sheepy's birthday fic) - Aziraphale/Crowley
"Contrary to popular belief, the wings of demons are the same as the wings of angels, although they're often better groomed."
"That one next door-"
"Mrs Edwards," Aziraphale said quietly, taking a sip of the lukewarm tea before leaning forward to replace it on the table.
"Mrs Edwards then, would have a fit if she could see you now." Crowley turned his head so it was his cheek not his forehead resting on his folded arms. "I have a feeling she doesn't like me much."
"Where would you get that idea from, my dear?"
"You know very well where from, angel. She must have CCTV outside, alarms going off whenever I come here." Crowley had started to sound drowsy, and Aziraphale hoped he wouldn't decide to fall asleep here. He gently combed through the dark feathers with his fingers. "I don't know what she thinks I'm going to do. She thinks I'm a bad influence."
"You are. That's your job. And take advantage of me, no doubt."
"Is she still trying to set you up with her daughter?"
"Mm." The demon he was sitting on laughed; a definite hiss in the sound.
"Definitely have a fit if she saw you now." Crowley wriggled slightly, and Aziraphale pinched him at the root of his wing. "Hey!"
"I would have thought she'd been more shocked about the obvious, you know."
"Hm?"
"These," Aziraphale said, moving his hands up and curling them loosly around the bonea. "Humerus, radius, ulna. I don't know why you make them black. They looked perfectly good white. Or grey. Grey looked good."
"I like black. It matches."
"Matches what?"
"Everything. The Bentley." Crowley breathed in deeply and Aziraphale continued working slowly on the cool feathers. "You need a new bed, this one's getting uncomfortable." Crowley flicked his left wing slightly. "There is another one that's a mess, you know."
"You could always just do it yourself, you know. Some of us get by with just shaking them out every other fortnight." Crowley flicked both wings, and Aziraphale sat up, hands resting together on Crowley's back. The demon slithered out from under Aziraphale, turned, and pushed the angel down, looming over him with his hands either side of Aziraphale's head.
"Now, neither of them wouldn't be nearly as much fun as this, would they?"
"That one next door-"
"Mrs Edwards," Aziraphale said quietly, taking a sip of the lukewarm tea before leaning forward to replace it on the table.
"Mrs Edwards then, would have a fit if she could see you now." Crowley turned his head so it was his cheek not his forehead resting on his folded arms. "I have a feeling she doesn't like me much."
"Where would you get that idea from, my dear?"
"You know very well where from, angel. She must have CCTV outside, alarms going off whenever I come here." Crowley had started to sound drowsy, and Aziraphale hoped he wouldn't decide to fall asleep here. He gently combed through the dark feathers with his fingers. "I don't know what she thinks I'm going to do. She thinks I'm a bad influence."
"You are. That's your job. And take advantage of me, no doubt."
"Is she still trying to set you up with her daughter?"
"Mm." The demon he was sitting on laughed; a definite hiss in the sound.
"Definitely have a fit if she saw you now." Crowley wriggled slightly, and Aziraphale pinched him at the root of his wing. "Hey!"
"I would have thought she'd been more shocked about the obvious, you know."
"Hm?"
"These," Aziraphale said, moving his hands up and curling them loosly around the bonea. "Humerus, radius, ulna. I don't know why you make them black. They looked perfectly good white. Or grey. Grey looked good."
"I like black. It matches."
"Matches what?"
"Everything. The Bentley." Crowley breathed in deeply and Aziraphale continued working slowly on the cool feathers. "You need a new bed, this one's getting uncomfortable." Crowley flicked his left wing slightly. "There is another one that's a mess, you know."
"You could always just do it yourself, you know. Some of us get by with just shaking them out every other fortnight." Crowley flicked both wings, and Aziraphale sat up, hands resting together on Crowley's back. The demon slithered out from under Aziraphale, turned, and pushed the angel down, looming over him with his hands either side of Aziraphale's head.
"Now, neither of them wouldn't be nearly as much fun as this, would they?"