One demon in particular, thinks the angel.

[ineffableangel]

Aziraphale can tell when the clouds knit together that the storm is a demon-binger. A demon-binger, for those unused to Aziraphale's world, is like a harbinger, only far more loud, dangerous, and unsubtle. Well, perhaps unsubtle is the wrong word. This demon can be very subtle when he wants to be

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[ineffableangel]

Aziraphale's cheeks were a very deep pink by now. The deepest pink, in fact, that anyone had ever seen, and one in fact that Adam was responsible for in the cosmetic type world - it had started off with a passing wish of Wensley's - although why an Antichrist would go around inventing the colour of an embarrassed angel's cheeks was no one's business.

"Ï just meant- You understand- Oh, well." He ducked his head, still glowing with embarrassment, and got in the car only somewhat gracefully. "Thank you," he added as an afterthought, cheeks now only magenta.

Well, really, Aziraphale thinking the demon's smirk was cute contributed to the blush. He suspected Crowley was aware of such a thing, though he rather hoped the demon hadn't noticed his stolen glances at the smirk in question. It curled at the corners, you see, and Aziraphale wondered what those corners would taste li- oh.

He looked away, suddenly aware that he really had been staring at the demon's face and perhaps other parts - but those pants were meant to - oh my. Peripherally he could even blame Crowley for sauntering like that around the car, and for wearing those nice pants, and for smirking like that, but he was an angel and shouldn't be noticing anyway. He kept turning his head away and then seeing a bit of Crowley reflect off a mirror and then he simply had to look at the being - it never did to be rude, he decided.

"And I'm all for the getting-drunk bit," he murmured as he watched Crowley slide into the seat beside him.