Happy Holidays, waterofthemoon!
Dec. 30th, 2021 07:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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go_exchangeTitle: No Reason
Rating: T
Recipient: waterofthemoon
Prompt: A&C just hanging out, getting tipsy, trying on their old clothes, and being cute and reminiscing together.
Notes: You never have to twist my arm to write this kind of scenario, dear recipient. Happy Holidays, and an even Happier New Year!
Aziraphale felt the racket before he properly heard it, vibrations through the wall that culminated in an emphatic thud. He abandoned his half-arsed ambitions of tidying the kitchen and wandered to the bedroom.
Crowley was rummaging through the closet like his life depended on it. He had that singleminded air he got when something had been nagging at him, and he refused to let it rest.
Aziraphale sighed fondly, folding his arms across his chest.
"My dear, what are you—"
"Hah!" Crowley exclaimed in triumph, whirling around with an indistinct fabric bundle clutched in both hands. "Remember this?"
"I can't tell you unless you show me what it is," Aziraphale said, moving to sit on the bed. "Bring it here."
Crowley bit his lip. He remained planted on the spot, hugging the bundle against his chest.
"Fine," he said peevishly. "Close your eyes."
Aziraphale did as he was told, deciding it was the better part of valor. There was a great deal of rustling, and then the sound of various items of clothing being dropped on the floor at intervals. Crowley swore a handful of times over the ten minutes it took for him to finish fussing with what was presumably some long-forgotten ensemble.
"You might as well look," Crowley muttered. "Doesn't hold a candle to when the blasted thing was new, but..."
"Oh," Aziraphale said, opening his eyes as Crowley turned from the mirror to face him. "Yes, I do."
"You what?" Crowley stammered. His expression was tricky to read with his eyes obscured by the round antique shades he'd found with the clothes.
"Remember, my dear," Aziraphale said, cracking a smile. "Willson used to sell pairs of those by the dozen. You'd order them from America."
Crowley tugged on the corners of his wool waistcoat, which he hadn't bothered to button over the badly wrinkled dress shirt. The matching trousers looked sharp until one set eyes on the laceless leather brogues.
"Say what you will about Prohibition, but it worked wonders for the overall aesthetic."
"Indeed," Aziraphale said, rising from the bed. He stepped close to Crowley, setting his fingers against Crowley's jaw so as to turn Crowley's head from side to side.
"It's not as if you've never seen me in these before, angel," Crowley protested, but made no move to extract himself from Aziraphale's scrutiny.
"That's hardly the point," Aziraphale murmured, releasing him. "How does it feel after all this time?"
"Being dressed like only a slightly better class of bootlegger?" Crowley retorted. "This wasn't for my benefit. How does it feel?"
"Like meeting a younger version of you all over again. You were pricklier then. Less sure."
"Of myself? Surely not."
"No. Of my intentions."
"Well, that's easy," Crowley drawled, tapping Aziraphale's cheek, "because you were easy. Still are."
"You played hard to get, my dear," Aziraphale sighed. "That's maddeningly attractive."
"Or just maddening," Crowley said, adjusting his shades.
Aziraphale kissed him on the mouth, erasing that wry twist of a smile. Oh, he'd show Crowley easy.
"Leave them on."
"I beg your pardon?" Crowley said, slender fingers frozen on the rims of his glasses. "I mean, are you serious? I'll be half blind."
"I said," Aziraphale murmured, releasing Crowley's lapels to emphasize the challenge, "leave them on."
Crowley clenched his jaw. The resulting sulk made it clear that Aziraphale was going to have to work for whatever it was he wanted.
Crowley went passive and pliant in his arms as they kissed again. His jacket was halfway down his arms already, and he'd left his shirt partially unbuttoned.
Aziraphale planted a kiss on Crowley's cheek and moved to stand behind him, neatly yanking his jacket the rest of the way off. He draped it over the arm of a nearby chair, one of Crowley's contributions to their interior decorating. Crowley's taste had always been impeccable, but he looked at it as merely surrounding himself with stuff he liked. And the stuff he liked just happened to be expensive.
"Shoes, please," Aziraphale said, tapping Crowley's boots with his bare toe as he set about finishing off Crowley's shirt buttons. Delightful, how Crowley took orders even when he was feeling contrary. As Aziraphale pinched his nipples, Crowley took a shaky breath, vanishing his footwear. Aziraphale rewarded him with a gentle bite to the side of his neck.
"Why are you so good at this?" Crowley muttered, shivering as his shirt joined his jacket. "And why won't you let me take the shades off? They're annoying."
"No reason," Aziraphale replied, popping the button on Crowley's trousers, dipping his hands without hesitation to fondle him through his understated cotton boxers. Goodness, but he was excitable when Aziraphale got pushy.
"Lucky me," Crowley groaned, knees buckling. His knuckles were white on Aziraphale's wrists, but his thumbs had an agenda of their own, circling over the stutter of Aziraphale's pulse-points. "Is this your idea of a game?"
"Not quite," said Aziraphale, getting rid of Crowley's trousers with a snap of his fingers. "But it is my idea of driving you wild. Bed?"
"Bed," Crowley agreed, struggling out of his shorts as he wobbled his way there.
Aziraphale gave him a tap on the backside for good measure and followed.
Rating: T
Recipient: waterofthemoon
Prompt: A&C just hanging out, getting tipsy, trying on their old clothes, and being cute and reminiscing together.
Notes: You never have to twist my arm to write this kind of scenario, dear recipient. Happy Holidays, and an even Happier New Year!
Aziraphale felt the racket before he properly heard it, vibrations through the wall that culminated in an emphatic thud. He abandoned his half-arsed ambitions of tidying the kitchen and wandered to the bedroom.
Crowley was rummaging through the closet like his life depended on it. He had that singleminded air he got when something had been nagging at him, and he refused to let it rest.
Aziraphale sighed fondly, folding his arms across his chest.
"My dear, what are you—"
"Hah!" Crowley exclaimed in triumph, whirling around with an indistinct fabric bundle clutched in both hands. "Remember this?"
"I can't tell you unless you show me what it is," Aziraphale said, moving to sit on the bed. "Bring it here."
Crowley bit his lip. He remained planted on the spot, hugging the bundle against his chest.
"Fine," he said peevishly. "Close your eyes."
Aziraphale did as he was told, deciding it was the better part of valor. There was a great deal of rustling, and then the sound of various items of clothing being dropped on the floor at intervals. Crowley swore a handful of times over the ten minutes it took for him to finish fussing with what was presumably some long-forgotten ensemble.
"You might as well look," Crowley muttered. "Doesn't hold a candle to when the blasted thing was new, but..."
"Oh," Aziraphale said, opening his eyes as Crowley turned from the mirror to face him. "Yes, I do."
"You what?" Crowley stammered. His expression was tricky to read with his eyes obscured by the round antique shades he'd found with the clothes.
"Remember, my dear," Aziraphale said, cracking a smile. "Willson used to sell pairs of those by the dozen. You'd order them from America."
Crowley tugged on the corners of his wool waistcoat, which he hadn't bothered to button over the badly wrinkled dress shirt. The matching trousers looked sharp until one set eyes on the laceless leather brogues.
"Say what you will about Prohibition, but it worked wonders for the overall aesthetic."
"Indeed," Aziraphale said, rising from the bed. He stepped close to Crowley, setting his fingers against Crowley's jaw so as to turn Crowley's head from side to side.
"It's not as if you've never seen me in these before, angel," Crowley protested, but made no move to extract himself from Aziraphale's scrutiny.
"That's hardly the point," Aziraphale murmured, releasing him. "How does it feel after all this time?"
"Being dressed like only a slightly better class of bootlegger?" Crowley retorted. "This wasn't for my benefit. How does it feel?"
"Like meeting a younger version of you all over again. You were pricklier then. Less sure."
"Of myself? Surely not."
"No. Of my intentions."
"Well, that's easy," Crowley drawled, tapping Aziraphale's cheek, "because you were easy. Still are."
"You played hard to get, my dear," Aziraphale sighed. "That's maddeningly attractive."
"Or just maddening," Crowley said, adjusting his shades.
Aziraphale kissed him on the mouth, erasing that wry twist of a smile. Oh, he'd show Crowley easy.
"Leave them on."
"I beg your pardon?" Crowley said, slender fingers frozen on the rims of his glasses. "I mean, are you serious? I'll be half blind."
"I said," Aziraphale murmured, releasing Crowley's lapels to emphasize the challenge, "leave them on."
Crowley clenched his jaw. The resulting sulk made it clear that Aziraphale was going to have to work for whatever it was he wanted.
Crowley went passive and pliant in his arms as they kissed again. His jacket was halfway down his arms already, and he'd left his shirt partially unbuttoned.
Aziraphale planted a kiss on Crowley's cheek and moved to stand behind him, neatly yanking his jacket the rest of the way off. He draped it over the arm of a nearby chair, one of Crowley's contributions to their interior decorating. Crowley's taste had always been impeccable, but he looked at it as merely surrounding himself with stuff he liked. And the stuff he liked just happened to be expensive.
"Shoes, please," Aziraphale said, tapping Crowley's boots with his bare toe as he set about finishing off Crowley's shirt buttons. Delightful, how Crowley took orders even when he was feeling contrary. As Aziraphale pinched his nipples, Crowley took a shaky breath, vanishing his footwear. Aziraphale rewarded him with a gentle bite to the side of his neck.
"Why are you so good at this?" Crowley muttered, shivering as his shirt joined his jacket. "And why won't you let me take the shades off? They're annoying."
"No reason," Aziraphale replied, popping the button on Crowley's trousers, dipping his hands without hesitation to fondle him through his understated cotton boxers. Goodness, but he was excitable when Aziraphale got pushy.
"Lucky me," Crowley groaned, knees buckling. His knuckles were white on Aziraphale's wrists, but his thumbs had an agenda of their own, circling over the stutter of Aziraphale's pulse-points. "Is this your idea of a game?"
"Not quite," said Aziraphale, getting rid of Crowley's trousers with a snap of his fingers. "But it is my idea of driving you wild. Bed?"
"Bed," Crowley agreed, struggling out of his shorts as he wobbled his way there.
Aziraphale gave him a tap on the backside for good measure and followed.
(no subject)
Date: 2022-01-13 03:12 am (UTC)