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You could smell the other demon. You were certain of it.
Walking up the long, winding staircase from the bottom floor of Aziraphale's bookshop to your small flat in the attic, you peeked around the corner, noticing the light fanning out from the crack in the door. Narrowing your eyes, you studied it. With its brightness, it certainly was not the moonlight streaming through the tiny windowpanes in the walls.
As you walked closer, you could hear him - a shuffling from behind your locked door. Something heavy dropped to the floor, immediately followed by a heavy sigh - a guttural sound straight from the throat.
Your mouth fell into a smug grin. Crowley was there in your flat, waiting for you.
Stepping out of your rain boots and slipping out of your jacket, you opened the door and immediately tilted your head at the redheaded demon. “Crowley, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
His yellow eyes seemed to sparkle at you. He nodded towards the bottle of wine in his hand and raised the two glasses in his other. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
You nodded, narrowing your eyes at him, the grin never leaving your face.
Normally, you helped out Aziraphale with the shop but had been given the day off. Instead of organizing books and brushing off eager Soho shoppers, you spent the day at an art museum alone. A younger demon, you hadn’t been given the chance to meet some of those artists, though you would have loved to. You figured you could have had a lot of fun drinking in a pub with Van Gogh, though he clearly didn’t need the temptation.
“I was out,” you replied. “Surprisingly, I had the day off.”
Crowley raised his eyebrows, dropping the things in his hands and walking towards you. His arm pulled you into his embrace. “Let’s just say I managed to... tempt a certain person into giving you time off.”
“Well, he is a bit soft.”
“For you, of course.”
Well, he was right. You and Aziraphale did have a rather wonderful friendship - sometimes, it rivaled the one he shared with the red-haired demon. You fought back a smile, reaching up a hand up to rest it on the Crowley's face. It burned hot under your touch. Arching an eyebrow, you ran your thumb over his cheekbone. “I can think of another being who is soft for me.”
A soft chuckle. “Surely, he is not in this flat.”
When Crowley leaned down to press his lips to yours, you playfully turned away and left his grasp, leaving the demon whining, his fingers trying to catch yours again. To his surprise, you took his hand and led him to your bed.
Crowley, sitting down before you, kept an arm out, letting you rest against his chest. “Did you enjoy your day, love?”
Humming in confirmation, you stretched out your back. As you arched your spine, your back cracked and you winced.
“Wings a bit tired?”
A sigh in reply.
“Well, lay yourself out,” coaxed Crowley.
Normally, you would have made a sarcastic comment about him trying to get you into bed. But instead, you didn’t waste any time stretching out your wings – black and elegant, perfectly preened with silk-soft feathers. You sighed in relief, resting your head in Crowley’s lap.
Crowley immediately began running his fingers through your wings, using his fingertips to knead into any tight spots.
Hearing your little happy hums and sighs, he smiled, continuing to please.