No one to impress, well... he wasn't so sure of that at all. Especially now where he found himself looking down into a pair of pale blue eyes. Crowley fancied that he saw longing in those and wouldn't it be easy to take advantage of?
They were so close. He could feel the heat from Aziraphale's thigh on the knee he had placed on his chair to prevent it tipping over. It had been a moment's misplaced rage but he had still been consciousness enough to make sure the angel wouldn't have been harmed by toppling over. His breath smelled just like the syrup they had bandied about earlier when they had been flirting. That was what it was, even an angel must have understood that? And those wings, lovely flared things that seemed to confirm what he had seen in the angel's eyes. Wouldn't he love to ruffle them further?
His own wings softened just at Aziraphale's voice, the snarl following them as the angel clutched at his wrist. Just one word, one look, and he would dive onto those lips eagerly. Just forget everything else.
That was the odd thing about himself. The part that never quite fit in anywhere. He had some how been too evil for Heaven. Unforgivable, had to be, as even God had turned her back on him and cast him out. But sometimes he worried he was too good for Hell for here he was, a demon, absolutely entranced by an angel's light.
But there was no one here to impress... He reconsidered those words as a cleared throat broke through the trance and caused him to look up at the dozens of wide eyes and gaping mouths that now filled the restaurant. Even now Crowley felt he would still turn back and kiss Aziraphale, the audience not really being an issue as he had been reminded that neither Heaven or Hell could touch them here. He doubted Aziraphale would feel the same way about it.
"What? Haven't you ever seen an angel and a demon having a lively conversation?"
The audience received a glare but most of the fire had faded from his voice.
"Go back to your... oatmeal."
At least one person in the crowd seemed to have a bowl of it, foolish mortal that he was. Only when that man did dip his spoon back into his bowl did Crowley look back to Aziraphale and almost whisper a few words.
"Sorry... force of habit really."
He pulled back, intending to retake his seat.
"After so many years it's difficult to get used to the idea that no one is around to check up on you."
Not that they ever had really but the fear was still there, drilled into him after centuries of threats and seeing what happened to other demons who failed.
no subject
They were so close. He could feel the heat from Aziraphale's thigh on the knee he had placed on his chair to prevent it tipping over. It had been a moment's misplaced rage but he had still been consciousness enough to make sure the angel wouldn't have been harmed by toppling over. His breath smelled just like the syrup they had bandied about earlier when they had been flirting. That was what it was, even an angel must have understood that? And those wings, lovely flared things that seemed to confirm what he had seen in the angel's eyes. Wouldn't he love to ruffle them further?
His own wings softened just at Aziraphale's voice, the snarl following them as the angel clutched at his wrist. Just one word, one look, and he would dive onto those lips eagerly. Just forget everything else.
That was the odd thing about himself. The part that never quite fit in anywhere. He had some how been too evil for Heaven. Unforgivable, had to be, as even God had turned her back on him and cast him out. But sometimes he worried he was too good for Hell for here he was, a demon, absolutely entranced by an angel's light.
But there was no one here to impress... He reconsidered those words as a cleared throat broke through the trance and caused him to look up at the dozens of wide eyes and gaping mouths that now filled the restaurant. Even now Crowley felt he would still turn back and kiss Aziraphale, the audience not really being an issue as he had been reminded that neither Heaven or Hell could touch them here. He doubted Aziraphale would feel the same way about it.
"What? Haven't you ever seen an angel and a demon having a lively conversation?"
The audience received a glare but most of the fire had faded from his voice.
"Go back to your... oatmeal."
At least one person in the crowd seemed to have a bowl of it, foolish mortal that he was. Only when that man did dip his spoon back into his bowl did Crowley look back to Aziraphale and almost whisper a few words.
"Sorry... force of habit really."
He pulled back, intending to retake his seat.
"After so many years it's difficult to get used to the idea that no one is around to check up on you."
Not that they ever had really but the fear was still there, drilled into him after centuries of threats and seeing what happened to other demons who failed.