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Crowley raises a brow as a white haired angel scuffles past him without a word and plonks himself in an armchair. He lets out a small, disgruntled huff before opening the book in his hands and focusing very hard on the pages.
It's adorable, really. That small space between his brows are scrunched, his lips are in a tight line, his breathing just a little heavier than usual. Crowley probably shouldn't find it as endearing as he does. He can get him into trouble.
The demon casually leans against a bookshelf, his arms crossed, observing his angel for a moment longer, calculating his best course of action.
"You're actually really mad with me, aren't you?" He eventually asks, breaking what had been a whole two hours of uncomfortable silence since their 'disagreement'.
Without looking up, and sounding as disinterested as possible, Aziraphale replies with a simple, "No." Which definitely, 100%, translated into 'yes'.
Besides, he can practically feel the anger seeping out from the angel.
"Riiight, that's why you aren't talking to me, then?"
Aziraphale keeps looking down, his expression stony, his tone of voice low, "I'm talking to you right now."
Crowley's lips turn up at the corner into half a smirk, prepared to provoke the bear. Aziraphale may not act like it, but he very much wants Crowley to play his game, and the demon is far too willing to join in. He pushes himself from the book shelf and saunters over to the soft ball of fury.
To add more fuel to the fire, he slides his palm over the pages of the book, blocking Aziraphale's view. Stormy blue meets yellow, quite violently.
"Do you mind?"
Aziraphale attempts to dislodge Crowley's hand from its place, and fails to do so.
Crowley remains steadfast. "Nuh-uh, not until you're being reasonable again."
That hits a nerve.
"I'm being unreasonable?" Aziraphale asks, incredulous. "You are the one refusing to go to our friends' wedding reception."
Crowley frowns, his head tilting, lips pouting, "That's not true, I never actually said I wouldn't go."
"You implied it," Aziraphale grumbles in response.
"No," Crowley presses, "I am more than happy to go and celebrate the love that you and I so deviously meddled in and made happen in the first place. You know me, love a good party."
Aziraphale huffs again.
"Maggie was very clear in her invitation that there is a dress code. 'colourful and flowery' it's an ode to their elopement in Hawaii."
"Fuck the dress code," Crowley drawls, leaning down so his face is only inches from Aziraphale's. "Can't be your tall, dark, duke if there's a dress code, can I? I'll just miracle it away. They'll forget all about it, we can go to the party, say congratulations to the happy couple, drink all of their liquor, and then sneak away and have very drunken, but very fun sex. It's a win-win for everyone."
Crowley's attempt to persuade the angel falls on deaf ears.
"That isn't fair on Nina and Maggie, Crowley! Why can't we just do all the things you just said whilst you wear the lovely shirt that I bought for you?"
And this is where the biggest disjointment is in their argument.
"Aziraphale, I have worn a lot of clothes in the 6000 years I've been on this earth, and nothing, I mean nothing else even comes close to how hideous that shirt is that you expect me to wear."
The angels expression changes in an instant, hurt so evident in his eyes moments before he breaks contact with Crowley, looking away, his thumb fiddling with the button of his vest.
Oh, fuck.
Aziraphale speaks in a small voice, "Well, there's no need to be so mean about it. I was simply trying to do a nice thing."
Crowley screws his eyes shut, actually feeling guilt clawing in his stomach. This is not how this conversation was supposed to go.
But, okay, maybe he was a little overly harsh.
The solemn look in his angel's gaze tells him as much.
Argh.
Alright, he can turn this around.
He lets out a slow sigh before responding, choosing his next words carefully, "I wasn't being mean, I was pointing out a fact."
A fact Aziraphale can't exactly argue with.
"It's all part of the fun, you aren't being fun, and you are refusing to participate."
Huh.
Interesting. He didn't expect Aziraphale to come at him from that angle.
"I-" He isn't actually quite sure what to say. "I can be fun."
Slowly, methodically, Aziraphale's gaze meets his again in a questioning look, "but will you participate?"
Shit.
~ 2 days later ~
Nina and Maggie's reception was all very sweet, set in the botanical Kew gardens - the flower theme actually was quite on point, and Crowley, not that he would say as much to Aziraphale, would have stuck out like a sore thumb in his usual black-on-black get-up. At some point, after the speeches where the couple thanked a "freak" electrical storm for the origins of their relationship, Aziraphale grabbed Crowley's hand and whisked him away from the crowded party room.
Crowley really wasn't sure where he was, a cleaning supply closet, perhaps? Quite frankly, he didn't care, because the moment they were alone, his trousers had been unzipped, his angel had fallen to his knees, and his cock had been engulfed in the most glorious wet heat.
"Shit, fucking hell, Aziraphale," he hisses out, grabbing hold of a nearby shelf to keep his corporation from falling, all the blood rushing directly south so quickly he felt light-headed.
The angel is relentless.
He begins to bob his head, slowly, sucking at the tip once Crowley's hardening cock is almost all the way out of his mouth, then driving back down until he hits the back of the angels throat.
It drives Crowley insane.
Every expletive known to the human race leaves his lips as the angel works over him, pulling every trick he has ever learnt makes his demon weak in the knees.
Crowley's long fingers tangle in soft, white curls, encouraging the angel to continue with his ministrations.
By now, the angel knows exactly what makes Crowley tick. His tongue runs flat against a throbbing vein before swirling over the tip, blowing cool air on saliva, then swallowing him back down again. All of it is for the purpose of making Crowley's resolve snap.
It doesn't take long before Crowley gets to that point, his hips becoming restless, begining to rock in time with Aziraphale's motions.
"Fuck, Angel, can I-"
Aziraphale simply moans around his cock, the vibrations bringing another wave of pleasure, before he makes his jaw go slack, giving Crowley all the permission he needs to take control. His fingers in Aziraphale's hair tighten like a vice, and he thrusts his hips into Aziraphale's warm and open mouth, taking exactly what he needs to drive him over the edge.
It doesn't take long before he feels it, that spring tightly coiling, making him pant out a littany of very blasphemous things, before shouting, loudly, as the pleasure reaches it's crescendo. "'Zira, Angel, I'm-"
Aziraphale's palms squeeze against Crowley's arse, keeping him firmly in place, buried deep as he spills down the angels throat.
Crowley is pretty sure he blacks out for a moment, only really rousing back into reality when he feels himself being tucked away, Aziraphale's hands gently zipping him back up.
"What is god's name was that for?" Crowley asks, thumping his head against a nearby shelf, breathing heavily.
He glances down, watching as Aziraphale filthily wipes his mouth with his finger before sucking on the digit. He throws him a smirk as he begins to stand again.
"It's your reward for wearing this hideous shirt."
Crowley gasps, but can't help the chuckle that escapes his throat. "You bastard, you absolutely made me wear this just to experiment with how far I'll actually go to please you, didn't you?"
Aziraphale looks completely, and entirely guilty.
"Hold your tongue, Crowley. You do actually look quite fetching in it."
His brow raises, "Really?"
"Indeed," Aziraphale toys with the patterned fabric, soothing his palms over Crowley's chest. "In fact I think I'm going to need you to wear it a little longer, then later," he says as he pops open the top button, then the second, "perhaps you can absolutely ravage me with it open like this."
Crowley shakes his head, "You're filthy, Angel."
Aziraphale hums, "I know... You have only yourself to blame for that, though. Silly you, tempting an angel into lust. Now, come on, we still have more partying to do."
Crowley frowns, "What? I thought we were going home so I could 'absolutely devour you.'"
"Oh no, that comes later, dear. They haven't even cut the cake yet. Come along."
And with that, Aziraphale backs away, a devious smile on his face as he leaves the closet.
Crowley simply shakes his head, wondering how the hell he'd gotten so damn lucky to find the one angel in the whole universe to be more cunning and cruel than any other demon in existence.
He absolutely loves it.
He absolutely loves him.
Hideous shirt wearing and all.