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Crowley opened the door of the bookshop and called out, “I’m here, Angel.” No response. Lost in his books. She set her glasses on the horse statue. She sauntered towards his chair, took a moment to regard him with a fond smile, and then kissed the top of his blond feathery curls.
“Oh hello, dearest,” he said, rousing and setting aside books and those ridiculous specs.
She draped herself across his lap.
“To what do I owe this pleasure, madam?” Aziraphale asked, with a little squeeze of the new curves at her hips. With the other hand, he toyed with a long red curl that had escaped her messy bun.
“Felt like a change.” Crowley laughed a little breathlessly and left a lipstick mark on Aziraphale’s neck, well clear of his shirt collar. The angel growled. He got both hands on her hips and moved with her until she was straddling his lap. He pulled back to look at her for a moment with heat in his blue gaze.
Then he pressed his lips against hers.
When they pulled apart some time later, her lipstick was smeared beyond any miracle. “It’s a good shade on you,” she said, tracing his lips with her thumb.
“Foul fiend,” he chuckled. He played with her long hair. “Temptress,”
“Nah, that’s a darker red. This one’s called Forbidden Apple. I kid you not.”
They both snickered. And then snogged some more. When Crowley nearly toppled out of the chair, Aziraphale picked her up and got them over to the settee, where they had more room to cuddle. And snog.
A while later, Aziraphale mused “I often think about Nanny Ashtoreth when you wear this form, dearest.”
“Excuse you?” Crowley sat bolt upright and stared down at the lounging angel reproachfully. She gestured at the faded Queen shirt, draped against the swell of her breasts, and her curves filling out tight black jeans. “What about this whole ensemble says Nanny to you?”
Chuckling, Aziraphale sat up and gathered her into his arms, with her back resting against his chest. He slid his hands up and down her sides, first stroking the worn cotton fabric, then sliding his hands up under her shirt to caress her skin.
Crowley made a throaty, pleased noise.
Aziraphale put his head on her shoulder and looked down her shirt.
“Only, I did spend rather a lot of time in Tadfield wondering about Nanny’s taste in lingerie.”
“Did you now?” Crowley chortled.
In Nanny’s soft accent, she drawled “well you’re a very naughty boy and I think you shall go to bed without any supper.”
“Promise?”