Category: Humor, Idiots in Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens)
Summary: Aziraphale finally turns his full attention on Crowley, an appalled look on his face. "I hope not! You can't just walk around tempting other people!"
Series: Welcome to my own personal end times (multifandom)
Notes: More than a few of the prompts on the list are too good to pass up for this pairing XD. This is prompt number 24.
Again, thanks to meinposhbastard for the beta - and actually being glad for me spamming them with copious amounts of fic XD
Word count: 1,050
Nothing really changes after the apocalypse that fails to happen.
Well, that's strictly speaking not true, is it? It changes in all the ways that count, doesn't it?
They are no longer bound in the same way to Heaven or Hell. They've kind of bought themselves an extension on earthly living, haven't they? For now, at least, neither Heaven nor Hell seem to see it fit to interfere with their lives.
Crowley makes a face. It is, of course, just a matter of time, isn't it? He's been feeling antsy in the two weeks since the End Times had fizzled out. Antsy, restless, like something has to happen. It means he fiddles with everything that comes within his reach and any human being is a viable target.
He won't hurt them, it's not his style. But he needs some entertainment seeing as a certain angel is currently ignoring him in favour of reshelving a rather large collection of Shakespeare plays.
Crowley lounges on the comfy sofa in the back of Aziraphale's bookshop much like he's done many times before. However, whenever a customer comes in, he makes sure they stumble around, find the wrong things, or find things that are not normally in Aziraphale's shop. Like when they're looking for cooking books they find collections of dirty limericks (Crowley is quite fond of those - and he didn't so much make them appear as he merely moved them).
"Behave," Aziraphale says without looking at him, while he balances on a stepping stool to reach the right shelf. There is no reprimand in the word itself. It has become a common occurrence these days when Crowley causes some minor chaos, Aziraphale will admonish him, fondly.
Crowley makes a face and adjust his shades. He's so bored! "Behave," he echoes mockingly. It's like an itch he can't scratch. "I am behaving - I'm a demon, I behave like a demon."
"Yes, dear, of course you do," Aziraphale replies, still sounding far too distracted for Crowley's liking.
"No, really - I'm here to tempt the world!" Crowley argues as he sends the last customer away from the store in a state of great confusion. He snaps his fingers and the sign on the door flips to 'closed' while the blinds obligingly roll themselves down. Maybe he can get Aziraphale to go out for dinner tonight. That's always enjoyable.
"I thought you were here to spread ferment," Aziraphale says, tutting as he realizes one of the books is in the wrong place. He wobbles a little on the stool and Crowley lets his shades slide to the tip of his nose, a click of the tongue and the stool rights itself.
"That was then, this is now! I'm a walking temptation!" he carries on, most certainly not eyeing the way his current viewing angle allows him to ogle the angel's backside. He rarely gets to, as Aziraphale favours the out of fashion style of a long tailed jacket. Has for years. Maybe he's on to Crowley?
Aziraphale finally turns his full attention on Crowley, an appalled look on his face. "I hope not! You can't just walk around tempting other people!"
Crowley frowns. "That's sort of the whole idea of demons, angel. It's what I've done from the garden of Eden till now," he replies drily.
Aziraphale makes a strange noise and looks mildly put out.
Crowley is more than a little confused now. This conversation is taking turns even he has trouble following. He chooses instead to focus on his wine. It's a rather nice vintage, too. It makes more sense than Aziraphale anyway.
His brain has never run in linear terms, it does what it does best when he just lets it fly along its own trajectory. And ten minutes later, it impacts rather heavily with a realization. "Oh! Oh, oooooh!" he exclaims, focusing completely on Aziraphale. Suddenly it makes sense in a way he has to test. Because if he's right-
Aziraphale freezes where he's reshelving the last of the books. Still teetering on the damned stepping stool.
Crowley can't say he's not finding the rabbit caught in the Bently's headlights look absolutely adorable. "You don't want me to tempt other people - you want my temptations all to yourself!"
Aziraphale purses his lips and looks quite put out. "I have no idea what you're talking about. I can assure you-" he begins.
Crowley just keeps talking, because no, he knows he's right. He can see all the reasons why he's right. "No, no, you always get that look on your face when I ask if I can tempt you to dinner or lunch or booze."
"What look?" Aziraphale asks with a haughty sniff.
Crowley gets to his feet and in two long strides, he's standing right behind the angel. Yes, the perfect height even. He gives the lovely bottom an appreciative glance and curves around Aziraphale and looks up at him, over the rim of his shades, watching the colour rise in Aziraphale's cheeks. And it's there, behind the prim and proper exterior. "Your eyes sparkle," Crowley says, because it's the only way he can explain it. "You like it when I say it."
"Yes, well," Aziraphale searches for the right words.
"You know it's alright," Crowley says nonchalantly, resting his hand lightly on Aziraphale's hip. He rubs his thumb lightly over the soft, worn cloth of the vest. "You're the only one I've wanted to tempt for the last couple of millennia," he admits boldly.
Aziraphale has apparently forgotten to keep up his appearance, because there's a soft and loving look to his eyes instead of the former stern one, as he looks down at Crowley. The flushed cheeks only darken further when Crowley reaches out and takes his hand, pressing his lips lightly to the soft skin of the palm.
"Now, hurry up, angel, I've got a whole host of temptations lined up for you tonight," Crowley informs him gleefully, before flickering the tip of his tongue against the same spot he just kissed. Just because he can and just because it flusters Aziraphale. To Crowley; all the more reason to do it.
"Behave," Aziraphale tells him again, but his voice is at least an octave lower and there's a completely different promise in the sparkle of his eyes now.