Work Text:
Aziraphale smiles, the angel can’t help it. Every time the opportunity presents itself to fully look at Crowley, especially if Crowley was turned away from Aziraphale. Crowley’s profile on display, the slender slope of the nose, the perfect lips. And the hair, oh, how Azirapahle loved the gorgeous scarlet waves of Crowley’s hair.
The angel had always admired the longer styles, oftentimes imagining what it would feel like while it slipped through the angel’s fingers. And sometimes, Crowley would catch the angel watching him, eyebrows furrowed and Aziraphale could only smile brighter. And Crowley would offer a small smile back.