[Aziraphale beams at the compliment, sliding his hand a bit further and lightly stroking the inside of Crowley's thigh.]
You'd get both, dear. Maybe even a helping mouth.
[It's all too easy to imagine Crowley in some flattering workman's clothes, skin glistening from his hard work, although even in his fantasy, the angel is fussily brushing plaster dust out of his lover's hair.]
no subject
You'd get both, dear. Maybe even a helping mouth.
[It's all too easy to imagine Crowley in some flattering workman's clothes, skin glistening from his hard work, although even in his fantasy, the angel is fussily brushing plaster dust out of his lover's hair.]
And a bath, too.