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Crowley
They'd talked about getting a new place together, but it hadn't happened yet, and for whatever reason they found themselves more frequently at Crowley's place than Aziraphale's. But now Aziraphale kept pajamas and nice smelling soap here.
"Can tell what?" he asked, just a smidge too annoyed to sound as worried as he was that he, too, might be caught out.
"Why on earth would that make you more appealing?" Crowley asked, back to the angel as he slithered out of his clothes.
"I'm sure it is," he lied. "Just your imagination."
Something neither of them had to any degree the way humans did. Crowley did envy their imaginations.
Crowley settled in beside him on his back, rigid as a board.
Oooh, but that sting of jealousy just wouldn't go away.
"You didn't? " he asked, though deep down he knew the truth. Of course the angel wouldn't. He had no reason to be a twat.
"I don't know. Maybe now you want to show your oats a bit," he grumbled.
And Crowley instantly felt about two inches tall.
"...maybe?" the demon replied, sounding much less jealous and much more sheepish.
"No one makes passes at me," he assured Aziraphale. He was far too prickly to be attractive for very long.
"And yet, remarkably, it's the truth," he replied. "People think it's fun to flirt with evil. Stupid."
"Angel, you are literally the only being in the universe who can tolerate me for more than ten minutes," he replied, rolling to face him.
"And I'd be happy to keep it that way, thank you very much," Croqley replied.
All his bristle vanished and he wriggled closer so he could kiss the angel properly.
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