Perhaps for dinner later? You've put me in the mood.
[He doesn't respond to the rest of the texts for some reason. Perhaps he's busy with the bath? And indeed, when Crowley lets himself into the shop and makes his way to the flat upstairs, he'll find Aziraphale in the bathroom running water into the tub. His flat is less over-run with books these days, confined to bookshelves and coffee tables as opposed to pieces of furniture intended to sit or lounge upon.
He turns towards the doorframe when Crowley arrives and smiles, his eyes especially bright. These days he greets Crowley in all manner of ways; this time it is a long, almost needy hug, his face nuzzling into those miraculously longer locks.]
Thank you, Crowley. For indulging me and... and everything, really...
[ Crowley pulls Aziraphale close, lifting the angel off his feet as he folds his long arms around him. He doesn't miss the neediness from his lover and is more than happy to meet it head on. Crowley is usually the clingy one. ]
Hello, sweetheart.
[ He greets softly, kissing into those curls. He'd begun using other endearments besides 'angel', though that's still, by far, his favourite. ]
Love indulging you. You're wonderful to indulge.
[ It isn't just flattery either. Aziraphale's so passionate about everything, from good food to beautiful music; it was truly a pleasure to make him happy. ]
And I'm getting indulged too. Always wanted you to get those lovely hands in my hair.
[Aziraphale relaxes immediately in Crowley's comforting embrace. Without the wrath of their former bosses to worry about, the angel occasionally dwells on the things he could have done differently where Crowley is concerned. Some of those texts had gotten rather serious, and yet Crowley had given him nothing but kindness in return. It's incredibly humbling, and he needs a moment to simply breathe him in and remind himself that it all worked out in the end.
Once his feet are back on the ground, he pulls back enough to look over Crowley's hair. A hand comes up wind through it gently.]
It's beautiful as the rest of you. [His gaze flicks to the bag of hair products.] Goodness, what is all that? I'll have to clear off my vanity to make room.
[ Crowley refuses to dwell on what they had to say or do in the past just to survive. That they had been able to be as close as they were was, well, a miracle. He'd rather focus on what they had now, build on that relationship while carefully chiseling away at past hurts a bit at a time. The past would take time to reconcile. And they had time. But Aziraphale deserved to focus on the good things they had now.
He leans hard into the touch, making a contented sound at the back of his throat. Oh that's nice - very nice. Good choice to do this, even if it means his hair's going to be dry and brittle for a couple of days as he gets it up to its usual healthy lustre. ]
Got a box of pumpkin ravioli and dessert for you. N'some wine.
[ If he sounds a little drunk, it's very much the effect Aziraphale has on him. ]
[However Crowley wants to approach their past, Aziraphale is amenable, so long as they can have many more moments like this. But he is not above making up for lost time, as he is doing now, appreciating the length of Crowley's hair. He smiles and wraps a curl around his finger. It doesn't feel perfectly silky to him, but he won't begrudge Crowley his products. Lord knows how fussy Aziraphale can be over his personal effects.
When he hears what else is in the bag, he beams and wiggles, leaning in to kiss Crowley enthusiastically.]
You think of everything, darling. Thank you.
[The tub is close to full, so Aziraphale shuts off the water with a wave of his hand, then rolls up his sleeves.]
Now then, I believe I owe your hair a good washing? I've got a little padded stool by the tub, you can sit there and lean back and tell me what to use on your hair.
[ Crowley practically preens at the praise, despite the fact it's practically been their ritual for - decades now. Aziraphale offhandedly mentions something he finds tasty, and Crowley scours London for the treat. Thank - well, anyone - for the invention of mobile phones. It saved him a lot of time scouring so he could spend more nibbling food with Aziraphale and chatting over good wine. ]
Gonna need to brush it out first. Then rub in the coconut oil - gotta mitigate the damage miracling it does. Should be fine in a few days with a little extra care, though - done way worse to it in the past and it's come out fine.
[ He adds in the last bit, in case Aziraphale got it into his head to worry about Crowley being reckless with his hair. ]
[Aziraphale smiles over the way Crowley reacts to the praise, eyes twinkling. He deserves it, the angel thinks, all that and more, for all the times he's treated him to a tasty food or wine. He takes the bag from Crowley's hands and gives him another kiss before shooing him to the vanity.]
I know, I remember those outrageous curls you put into your hair at the Bastille. We'll start with a good brushing, then.
[He sets down the bag and looks through it for the coconut oil. There is a silver-plated brush on the vanity, the bristles especially designed for curly hair. He intends to care for Crowley's hair from start to finish.]
Ugh, don't remind me. Was washing the gunk out of my hair for weeks - wasn't even worth it.
[ Crowley divests himself of most of his layers until he's down to his vest and jeans and plonks himself down in the stool by the tub, resting his chin on his folded arms. ]
I don't think I've ever seen you having a bad hair day. Always perfectly fluffy.
[Crowley shucking his outer garments distracts Aziraphale for several long moments. What was he doing again? Oh, right, the coconut oil. He pulls out the container and places it on the vanity, switching it for the brush. His gaze flicks up to mirror above the sink, glancing at his own hair in response to the compliment.]
Well... the truth is I don't have to do much of anything. I only go to the barber for the experience.
[He turns and smiles at Crowley, waving the brush in his hand.] Ready, my dear?
[Aziraphale seats himself cross-legged behind Crowley. He spends a minute or two simply running his fingers through Crowley's hair, unable to resist the allure of it. Crowley may claim that it needs treatment, but it feels perfect to him. Eventually, he picks up the brush and starts methodically working on the ends, keeping his free hand higher up on the strands to avoid pulling.]
Really, never? It's a lovely experience. Barbers are always so careful while they work, and I've had the most interesting chats with them.
Mm, never wanted anyone but you touching my hair, to be honest.
[ He exhales so softly as Aziraphale runs his fingers through his somewhat dry locks. It always did this when he miracled things too quickly, but just the touch sent a delightful shiver down his spine. ]
Can definitely see the appeal, though. That feels amazing.
[ Crowley is putty in Aziraphale's hands, and may have to stifle the occasional moan. ]
[The angel melts a little at Crowley's words before resuming his handiwork.]
I only ever got the occasional trim or hot shave. It's nice to be pampered, but it's not the same as when you do it, dear. That's always been special.
[Once the ends are free of any tangles, he moves the brush up higher along Crowley's scalp. There is a great deal to enjoy from being on this end of a good brushing, not the least of which are the sounds Crowley is making. He leans forward and kisses an ear before brushing the hair behind it.]
I think any stylist would be delighted to get their hands on your hair, but I won't complain if you leave the tending to it up to me.
Crowley's chest swells with pride. How delighted he is to know that Aziraphale enjoys his pampering. It also makes it all the more difficult not to lean into the gentle brushing and he occasionally tenses up to restrain himself from getting too wriggly.
That all falls apart when Aziraphale kisses his ear. His ear! Why is something like that so sensitive? Ears have no business getting that kind of sound out of a demon when kissed so tenderly.
Crowley actually has to hide his flushed face in his arms. ]
Definitely leaving it up to you. Don't want any stylist getting ideas.
[It's a good thing Crowley hides his face, because Aziraphale can smile at him soppily with impunity. Crowley really is just too much when he goes all soft, it warms the angel all over, from the inside out.]
I agree. I'm not inclined to share all this silken-spun fire with anyone else.
[He finishes up the brushing, then plants a few kisses on Crowley's bare shoulders, unable to resist all that exposed skin.]
There, all done. How much coconut oil do I use? Do I massage it in, or...?
[ Crowley feels like every bit of him has gone all floppy. Well, every bit of him besides his groin; he wonders if this is some strange fetish (well, perhaps not so strange in the grand scheme of things) or if it was just because he constantly craved Aziraphale's touch.
He makes a series of noises, eventually forming them into words. ]
Gotta - just a bit, rub it down the middle to the ends. Then two washes, two rinses, or it goes all greasy.
[ Crowley glances lazily over his shoulder to watch Aziraphale. He's not too fussed about his hair, really. It will recover even if Aziraphale doesn't do his regimen to spec. The whole thing of Aziraphale taking care of him, grooming him, touching him with those gentle, warm hands - that's much more of interest to him.
A slow, contented chuckle bubbles up from his chest. ]
Love seeing you all buttoned-down. Bet no one ever gets to see you like that.
[Whatever it is to Crowley, Aziraphale is more than happy to indulge. He waits patiently for the demon to answer, idly stroking his hair which probably doesn't help, but he is just enough of a bastard worth knowing, after all.]
Sounds simple enough. Just a tic, dear, hold tight.
[He gets up and returns the brush to the vanity, then opens the coconut oil. Only a bit, how much does that mean exactly? He scoops out a small amount and then holds it up as if weighing the amount and judging its worth. It might not matter so much to Crowley, but Aziraphale would like to get it right.
The question distracts him and he turns to look at Crowley with an amused smile.]
No, of course not. I run a reputable establishment.
[He grabs the jar of oil in case he'll need more and sits down behind Crowley once more. Then, tentatively, he rubs Crowley's hair with what he has in his hand, from the middle to the ends as instructed.]
Reputable is one way of putting it. You should see your reviews on Yelp. And - aah - yes - just like that, love, marvelous -
[ Quite forgetting what else he was going to say, Crowley tilts his head back, letting loose a contented sigh as Aziraphale massages the oil into his hair. It leaves half of it slick and oily, smelling strongly of coconut. ]
[He wrinkles his nose, already certain that he's not going to like the answer. But soon enough he's smiling again, enamored by Crowley's reaction to his touch. He makes sure every strand is coated in the oil, which admittedly is not a good look, but the smell is nice. What does it remind him of...?
The answer has him giggling.]
You're reminding me of my very first piña colada, darling. How long do we leave this in?
Mm, ten minutes at least. I usually do about twenty. And yes, reviews. Where customers rate businesses. You'd probably be very pleased at how many warn against coming into A.Z. Fell and Co. Probably saved you selling a number of priceless first editions.
[ He turns in the chair, wrapping an arm around Aziraphale's middle. ]
Three of them suggested you're some big underworld boss, given how you've chased off London's not-so-finest with a look when they tried to buy the place from you.
[ Crowley cannot begin to convey how much this delights him. A bookshop that doesn't sell books run by an owner who has every crime boss in London giving him a wide berth because no one knows what happens to the poor souls sent in every once in a while to try to get Aziraphale to part with his beloved shop.
Crowley had never stood a chance. How could he not have fallen in love with Aziraphale...? Literally impossible. ]
[Aziraphale's mouth turns down in a prissy little slope, but it's almost entirely a front, for he is pleased to hear that people are recommending others to avoid his shop. He does not mind the occasional foot traffic, but he's not willing to part with any of his precious first editions.
He's absolutely not willing to part with the shop itself, either. He huffs in amusement at the assumption that he's some sort of crime lord.]
Is that what they're saying about me these days? I suppose it's better than the rumor that I'm a vampire.
[He miracles his hands free of the oil so that he can place them on Crowley's bare shoulders, letting himself be drawn in.]
An entire twenty minutes, hmm? How shall we amuse ourselves while we wait?
[ Crowley looks Aziraphale up and down, and grins, gently guiding him into his lap. ]
Oh, I dunno, can see their point. You'd be an awfully cute vampire though. Probably put whipped cream on top of your blood smoothies. Tuck a little kerchief in your collar so you don't get any stains while you nibble my arteries. Very proper vampire, indeed. Not like the regular riffraff at all.
[ His hand wanders lovingly up Aziraphale's back, his gaze warm as he takes in his little pout. ]
...Could always take care of you for the next twenty minutes, yeah?
[Aziraphale sits eagerly, even as he rolls his eyes over the ridiculous imagery that Crowley shares with him.]
Well, if vampires are allowed to sparkle in the sunlight, then I suppose that they can look like anyone, even me. But I much prefer my taste in food. And nibbling.
[He demonstrates by nipping gently along the column of Crowley's neck, careful not to get any coconut oil on his face. He sucks a love bite above his jugular, then sits back, looking over his work. He's still learning how to leave a proper mark.]
You could... or I could continue to take care of you...?
[ Just the feeling of Aziraphale's mouth on his throat is more than perfect as far as Crowley is concerned, and he bears it readily while untucking Aziraphale's shirt to snake his fingers up his back. ]
Can't see a downside to either but - ah - yeah - that'sss good. Keep doing that, never ssstop -
[ Crowley rolls his hips upwards, rubbing Aziraphale's back, kneading his fingers into soft flesh and surprisingly sturdy muscle. ]
[Aziraphale obliges, his mouth back on Crowley's neck where he sucks another love bite to match the first.]
Both, then. All the better to pass the time.
[He squirms in Crowley's lap, already affected by that deft touch underneath his shirt. His intention was to pamper Crowley this evening, but if Crowley wants to reciprocate, he's not about to say no. There's the rest of the hair care regimen to look forward to, anyway. His hands wander over those bare, slender arms as he nuzzles against Crowley's neck.]
You know, if you're waiting at the barbershop, they only give you a magazine to read.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[He doesn't respond to the rest of the texts for some reason. Perhaps he's busy with the bath? And indeed, when Crowley lets himself into the shop and makes his way to the flat upstairs, he'll find Aziraphale in the bathroom running water into the tub. His flat is less over-run with books these days, confined to bookshelves and coffee tables as opposed to pieces of furniture intended to sit or lounge upon.
He turns towards the doorframe when Crowley arrives and smiles, his eyes especially bright. These days he greets Crowley in all manner of ways; this time it is a long, almost needy hug, his face nuzzling into those miraculously longer locks.]
Thank you, Crowley. For indulging me and... and everything, really...
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Hello, sweetheart.
[ He greets softly, kissing into those curls. He'd begun using other endearments besides 'angel', though that's still, by far, his favourite. ]
Love indulging you. You're wonderful to indulge.
[ It isn't just flattery either. Aziraphale's so passionate about everything, from good food to beautiful music; it was truly a pleasure to make him happy. ]
And I'm getting indulged too. Always wanted you to get those lovely hands in my hair.
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Once his feet are back on the ground, he pulls back enough to look over Crowley's hair. A hand comes up wind through it gently.]
It's beautiful as the rest of you. [His gaze flicks to the bag of hair products.] Goodness, what is all that? I'll have to clear off my vanity to make room.
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He leans hard into the touch, making a contented sound at the back of his throat. Oh that's nice - very nice. Good choice to do this, even if it means his hair's going to be dry and brittle for a couple of days as he gets it up to its usual healthy lustre. ]
Got a box of pumpkin ravioli and dessert for you. N'some wine.
[ If he sounds a little drunk, it's very much the effect Aziraphale has on him. ]
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When he hears what else is in the bag, he beams and wiggles, leaning in to kiss Crowley enthusiastically.]
You think of everything, darling. Thank you.
[The tub is close to full, so Aziraphale shuts off the water with a wave of his hand, then rolls up his sleeves.]
Now then, I believe I owe your hair a good washing? I've got a little padded stool by the tub, you can sit there and lean back and tell me what to use on your hair.
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Gonna need to brush it out first. Then rub in the coconut oil - gotta mitigate the damage miracling it does. Should be fine in a few days with a little extra care, though - done way worse to it in the past and it's come out fine.
[ He adds in the last bit, in case Aziraphale got it into his head to worry about Crowley being reckless with his hair. ]
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I know, I remember those outrageous curls you put into your hair at the Bastille. We'll start with a good brushing, then.
[He sets down the bag and looks through it for the coconut oil. There is a silver-plated brush on the vanity, the bristles especially designed for curly hair. He intends to care for Crowley's hair from start to finish.]
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[ Crowley divests himself of most of his layers until he's down to his vest and jeans and plonks himself down in the stool by the tub, resting his chin on his folded arms. ]
I don't think I've ever seen you having a bad hair day. Always perfectly fluffy.
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Well... the truth is I don't have to do much of anything. I only go to the barber for the experience.
[He turns and smiles at Crowley, waving the brush in his hand.] Ready, my dear?
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Very ready. Was practically born ready for this. You just start at the ends, then work your way up, however you like.
[ He pulls his hair back so it's over his shoulders and Aziraphale has easier access to it. ]
Never been to a barber before - is it all that nice? You seem to like them.
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Really, never? It's a lovely experience. Barbers are always so careful while they work, and I've had the most interesting chats with them.
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[ He exhales so softly as Aziraphale runs his fingers through his somewhat dry locks. It always did this when he miracled things too quickly, but just the touch sent a delightful shiver down his spine. ]
Can definitely see the appeal, though. That feels amazing.
[ Crowley is putty in Aziraphale's hands, and may have to stifle the occasional moan. ]
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I only ever got the occasional trim or hot shave. It's nice to be pampered, but it's not the same as when you do it, dear. That's always been special.
[Once the ends are free of any tangles, he moves the brush up higher along Crowley's scalp. There is a great deal to enjoy from being on this end of a good brushing, not the least of which are the sounds Crowley is making. He leans forward and kisses an ear before brushing the hair behind it.]
I think any stylist would be delighted to get their hands on your hair, but I won't complain if you leave the tending to it up to me.
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Crowley's chest swells with pride. How delighted he is to know that Aziraphale enjoys his pampering. It also makes it all the more difficult not to lean into the gentle brushing and he occasionally tenses up to restrain himself from getting too wriggly.
That all falls apart when Aziraphale kisses his ear. His ear! Why is something like that so sensitive? Ears have no business getting that kind of sound out of a demon when kissed so tenderly.
Crowley actually has to hide his flushed face in his arms. ]
Definitely leaving it up to you. Don't want any stylist getting ideas.
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I agree. I'm not inclined to share all this silken-spun fire with anyone else.
[He finishes up the brushing, then plants a few kisses on Crowley's bare shoulders, unable to resist all that exposed skin.]
There, all done. How much coconut oil do I use? Do I massage it in, or...?
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He makes a series of noises, eventually forming them into words. ]
Gotta - just a bit, rub it down the middle to the ends. Then two washes, two rinses, or it goes all greasy.
[ Crowley glances lazily over his shoulder to watch Aziraphale. He's not too fussed about his hair, really. It will recover even if Aziraphale doesn't do his regimen to spec. The whole thing of Aziraphale taking care of him, grooming him, touching him with those gentle, warm hands - that's much more of interest to him.
A slow, contented chuckle bubbles up from his chest. ]
Love seeing you all buttoned-down. Bet no one ever gets to see you like that.
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Sounds simple enough. Just a tic, dear, hold tight.
[He gets up and returns the brush to the vanity, then opens the coconut oil. Only a bit, how much does that mean exactly? He scoops out a small amount and then holds it up as if weighing the amount and judging its worth. It might not matter so much to Crowley, but Aziraphale would like to get it right.
The question distracts him and he turns to look at Crowley with an amused smile.]
No, of course not. I run a reputable establishment.
[He grabs the jar of oil in case he'll need more and sits down behind Crowley once more. Then, tentatively, he rubs Crowley's hair with what he has in his hand, from the middle to the ends as instructed.]
How's that? Good?
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Reputable is one way of putting it. You should see your reviews on Yelp. And - aah - yes - just like that, love, marvelous -
[ Quite forgetting what else he was going to say, Crowley tilts his head back, letting loose a contented sigh as Aziraphale massages the oil into his hair. It leaves half of it slick and oily, smelling strongly of coconut. ]
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[He wrinkles his nose, already certain that he's not going to like the answer. But soon enough he's smiling again, enamored by Crowley's reaction to his touch. He makes sure every strand is coated in the oil, which admittedly is not a good look, but the smell is nice. What does it remind him of...?
The answer has him giggling.]
You're reminding me of my very first piña colada, darling. How long do we leave this in?
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[ He turns in the chair, wrapping an arm around Aziraphale's middle. ]
Three of them suggested you're some big underworld boss, given how you've chased off London's not-so-finest with a look when they tried to buy the place from you.
[ Crowley cannot begin to convey how much this delights him. A bookshop that doesn't sell books run by an owner who has every crime boss in London giving him a wide berth because no one knows what happens to the poor souls sent in every once in a while to try to get Aziraphale to part with his beloved shop.
Crowley had never stood a chance. How could he not have fallen in love with Aziraphale...? Literally impossible. ]
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He's absolutely not willing to part with the shop itself, either. He huffs in amusement at the assumption that he's some sort of crime lord.]
Is that what they're saying about me these days? I suppose it's better than the rumor that I'm a vampire.
[He miracles his hands free of the oil so that he can place them on Crowley's bare shoulders, letting himself be drawn in.]
An entire twenty minutes, hmm? How shall we amuse ourselves while we wait?
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Oh, I dunno, can see their point. You'd be an awfully cute vampire though. Probably put whipped cream on top of your blood smoothies. Tuck a little kerchief in your collar so you don't get any stains while you nibble my arteries. Very proper vampire, indeed. Not like the regular riffraff at all.
[ His hand wanders lovingly up Aziraphale's back, his gaze
warm as he takes in his little pout. ]
...Could always take care of you for the next twenty minutes, yeah?
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Well, if vampires are allowed to sparkle in the sunlight, then I suppose that they can look like anyone, even me. But I much prefer my taste in food. And nibbling.
[He demonstrates by nipping gently along the column of Crowley's neck, careful not to get any coconut oil on his face. He sucks a love bite above his jugular, then sits back, looking over his work. He's still learning how to leave a proper mark.]
You could... or I could continue to take care of you...?
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Can't see a downside to either but - ah - yeah - that'sss good. Keep doing that, never ssstop -
[ Crowley rolls his hips upwards, rubbing Aziraphale's back, kneading his fingers into soft flesh and surprisingly sturdy muscle. ]
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Both, then. All the better to pass the time.
[He squirms in Crowley's lap, already affected by that deft touch underneath his shirt. His intention was to pamper Crowley this evening, but if Crowley wants to reciprocate, he's not about to say no. There's the rest of the hair care regimen to look forward to, anyway. His hands wander over those bare, slender arms as he nuzzles against Crowley's neck.]
You know, if you're waiting at the barbershop, they only give you a magazine to read.
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From:Just noticed my dumb typo up there! Sorry. :<
From:lol no worries - i don't remember seeing any typo at all
From:Re: lol no worries - i don't remember seeing any typo at all
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