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There were reasons why Crowley dressed the way he did.
One, he did it out of spite. A great many of his deeds had spite as their driving force. His fellow damned might have resigned themselves to looking like the slightly uglier version of the Loch Ness monster mixed with a shabby private eye, but Crowley took great care to follow a basic routine of hygiene, cleanliness and style. It wasn’t by accident that he stuck out at every demonic gathering like a meerkat in a mob of hyenas.
Two, and this went hand in hand with one, he had a great desire to be considered ’flash’. If any of the other fallen took pride in calling him a fancy prick behind his back they hadn’t understood the point he was trying to make. Loud, recognisable, in fashion. To spread foment, one needed to have charisma, and charisma often came with a certain lifestyle. After all, if one wasn’t popular, if one didn’t attract attention, how would one be able to corrupt a great number of souls?
And three, yes, Crowley very much enjoyed wearing fashionable clothes. 6000 years in the same corporation could get very mundane if you didn’t try to reinvent yourself every decade or so.
So the demon had felt very smug indeed when he had discovered what he took to calling //THE BELT//. It was leather, which was always cool, and it was black, because *obviously* it had to be black. (Frankly, Crowley had never believed in wearing more than one or two colours at a time. What was the point, when there are so many shades of black?) And finally, the belt had buckles, three of them, in fact. Fitting snugly around his torso, just above the hips.
On his way to the bookshop, Crowley was in a good mood. He was wearing his new purchase and he couldn’t wait to show it off. Naturally, he knew how the angel would react: Aziraphale would scrunch up his cute angelic nose and sniff. Then, his whole body would give a little wiggle, instead of shaking his head at the demon. Because he would be too polite to say something unkind or reluctant to comment on Crowley’s modern fashion sense. But deep down, Aziraphale would enjoy seeing the other in something new, something he hadn’t seen yet. It would show in small details like a secretive smile, in his kind eyes and in the softening of his gaze when the angel thought Crowley wasn’t paying attention. And that was the real reason Crowley liked showing off.
The doorbell rang as Crowley entered the shop, but the owner of the bookshop wasn’t in sight.
“Aziraphale?” No answer. “Hey, Aziraphale, it’s me.”
There was a small, distracted hum from the sofa behind a shelf. The kind, Crowley knew, the angel only emitted when deeply lost in the story of a book.
Crowley rounded the shelf and let himself flop onto a chair opposite the sofa. “Hey angel, it’s me!”
Aziraphale looked up.
And stared. The book he had been reading was clutched in his hands, his mouth had formed a small ‘oh’.
That was new. Where was the angel’s fake indignation?
“Wha…?” Aziraphale’s voice sounded a little hoarse. Apparently, the angel had also noticed because he harrumphed and licked his lips. “What are you wearing?”, he asked, pointedly.
“This, dear angel, is commonly known as a ‘belt’. Look it up.” Crowley felt particularly clever as he emphasized the /p/ at the end of the sentence. Only then did the demon pause to consider that the angel’s reaction could also be a bad sign. “Why, don’t you like it?”
“N..no. That’s not it.” Aziraphale hastened to say.
Crowley inclined his head and looked at the other closely. Was the angel flustered? He raised an eyebrow. “Why, angel, are you blushing?”
“I am *not*.” But at this point, there was little the angelic being could say to make the other believe him. The demon’s level of smugness was increasing by the second.
“You totally *are*!” Crowley got up and sat down next to Aziraphale on the couch, taking the book out of his hands. “That is a perfectly natural reaction, angel.”, he teased and grabbed the other by his bow tie to pull him in.
“After all, I am a flash bastard.”, he added.
And kissed his angel.
