IC Contact - MaskOrMenace

[bookshopped]

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[goodtobebad]

[ It is a little distressing, really. What on Earth - in Heaven or Hell - did Crowley ever do to deserve such adoration? To deserve such a look being directed at him, as if he gets to determine the angel's future happiness?

And when did he start wanting such things? He can't even remember. ]

Well, I'm not going to marry anyone else. Six thousand years! We're just getting started, right?

[ He drops the flippant tone. ]

I love you, angel. I'm never going to stop, I'm never going to leave you, so sure. Whatever you want.

[bookshopped]

[Aziraphale is the width of an eyelash away from actually visibly glowing like an angelic string of Christmas lights.]

Yes. Only just beginning.

[He curls his fingers into Crowley's collar and tugs him in closer to, well, kiss the Hell out of him. But not all the Hell; he likes that bit of Hellishness.

Then he's drawing back.] I love you too. So very much. [Married. Imagine that.] Then, that means we're betrothed. Affianced. [What's the term in favor these days? The angel leaves that subject to hop to the next because something has struck him.]

Oh! Though we've skipped the usual proposal etiquette. [He fiddles with the small gold ring on his little finger, slipping it off and reaching for the demon's hand. Not exactly traditional, but Aziraphale hopes that's all right.]

[goodtobebad]

[ Perhaps that kiss has Crowley a little flabbergasted, or maybe he’s just so in love with the angel that he doesn’t even think to question or protest. He just lets Aziraphale take his hand, even put the ring on him, which of course miraculously fits perfectly. ]

S’pose it depends on which etiquette you prefer.

[bookshopped]

[Funny how that works isn't it? Tiny miracle tiny ring, and an angel who looks so extraordinarily pleased with himself. He takes that hand in his, thumb grazing over the little band of gold now on Crowley's finger. His demon. He moves to tangle their fingers together properly.]

Yes, well. That's true. ...you'll have to forgive the lack of one knee. I did just press these trousers. You understand.

[And really, they're making this up as they go along in any case, which seems appropriate for them.]

[goodtobebad]

[ There it is. Crowley stops looking at the ring on his finger long enough to roll his eyes at the angel affectionately. ]

Heaven forbid you get wrinkled trousers.

Yet.

[ He smirks a bit. ]

[bookshopped]

[There's the faintest lift of his eyebrows, the start of an amused spark in blue eyes.]

Yet?

[Good lord does he love that smirk. He's terrifically weak to it, and probably very obvious about that fact.]

That sounds suspiciously like a prelude to something.

[goodtobebad]

Only if you want it to, angel.

[ What a mess he’s gotten himself into. A wonderful mess. The things he’ll do for a pretty face. Or something. Whatever, he’s kissing Aziraphale again, because he can. ]

[bookshopped]

I'd have thought it obvious by now that I always want it to.

[He's not exactly subtle. Not now that they sorted themselves out into this delightful new shape. Being a couple, being together, well Aziraphale thinks it suits them perfectly.

And then there's kissing, and the angel is all too happy to melt right into that particular temptation.]