open post;

[goodtobebad]

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[goodoldfashioned]

Perhaps there's some sort of prize for that, do you think?

[He can think of a pretty good one from where he's sitting.]

[goodtobebad]

Not sure I can think of anything better than, well... you.

[ He's an honest demon, at least. ]

[goodoldfashioned]

[Hearteyes emoji, they go here.]

Then I'm afraid you'll always have me, Crowley. Even in Paris.

[goodtobebad]

Well... good. In case you haven't noticed, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me.

[ The drunker he gets, the more honest. Woops. ]

[goodoldfashioned]

I believe I can safely say the same, dearest.

[You know he's serious and/or tipsy because the petnames are coming out.]

[goodtobebad]

[ And Crowley's so far gone he's not even pretending to mind it. Just nuzzling at the angel's neck. ]

What, better than... than... Mozart's arias?

[goodoldfashioned]

Much better. Mozart's arias don't share my wine with me.

[He's started playing with Crowley's hair, idle and soft.]

[goodtobebad]

Yeah, but... lotsa humans would share your wine with you...

[ Aziraphale is quite the catch, after all. ]

[goodoldfashioned]

Some of them were rather kind. But none of them were you.

[He'll kiss him again, as a kind of confirmation.]

[goodtobebad]

Can't blame them, for - [ Oh, yes, kissing. Kissing is good. ] - for wanting you. I wanted you, too...

[goodoldfashioned]

I've got some standards. And, clearly, you've-- well, you've surpassed just about all of them.

[goodtobebad]

I do? [ Crowley has, quite frankly, never surpassed anyone’s standards for anything. He’s a cosmic failure, really. ]

[goodoldfashioned]

Indubitably. Not everyone I know is quite so.... quite so.

[Thinking while kissing is hard, okay.]

[goodtobebad]

I dunno what you're talking about, but I'll take it.

[ He will absolutely take whatever the angel is willing to give. ]

[goodoldfashioned]

I'm saying that you're wonderful, Crowley. Do try to keep up.

[The thing he is trying to give is called a compliment.]

[goodtobebad]

Mngh. [ Look, he knows Aziraphale doesn’t like it when he argues about whether he’s actually “wonderful” and all that other stuff the angel likes to call him, so he doesn’t do that anymore, just makes sounds in his throat, cheeks reddening a bit and generally acts a little flustered with the whole situation.

He turns his focus to the front of Aziraphale’s shirt, smoothing his hands down affectionately. He’s better at showing than telling, anyway. ]

[goodoldfashioned]

[Aziraphale hums a bit, swaying like a drunk at three in the morning, hands bracketing Crowley and head leaned in, letting a soft sort of silence stand. Sometimes the love he feels overwhelms him and he needs a moment to catch his breath. What a terrible burden, he's sure.]

Mm. Be a shame to let the wine sit too long?

[A question, absolutely. There's worse sorts of shame, like the kind that would come from letting Crowley go.]

[goodtobebad]

... would it?

[ He would also rather be snogging the angel than drinking wine right now. Funny how that works. ]

Could, you know. Let it breathe a while.

[goodoldfashioned]

I... well, yes. I suppose so. It certainly wouldn't do any harm.

[Right. Wine later, smooches now: confirmed.]

[goodtobebad]

Thought so.

[ Aziraphale has always been easy to tempt. Crowley is definitely shutting him up now. ]

[goodoldfashioned]

[Up: Firmly shut. Heart: Doing the fluttery thing. Kissing: Happen.]

[goodtobebad]

[ Not that all the kissing is going to stop Crowley from providing the occasional bit of commentary! ]

I think - [ Kiss! ] - I've found something - [ Kisskiss! ] - better than wine...

[goodoldfashioned]

[Kiss!]

Oh, perhaps we'd best keep going. [Coy smile.] Just to make absolutely certain.

[goodtobebad]

If you insist, who am I to say no?

[ Is he pulling the angel onto the sofa with him? Yes. ]

[goodoldfashioned]

This is me, very much insisting.

[Is he being pulled onto the sofa, perhaps assisting with some pushing of his own? Yes.]