Crowley in a kilt: A/C
Crowley looked in the mirror, somewhat dubious. He looked good, obviously- he always looked good. It was one of the advantages of being intrinsically evil. This, though...
"I still say it's a skirt." He folded his arms, mutinously, and turned to face the angel. "I don't see why I have to..." his voice trailed off as he got a look at the angel's face, at the wide eyes and pink cheeks, at the way he licked his lips and swallowed hard. The demon smirked.
"Oh my, Crowley." The angel ran a finger across the material, his voice reverent. "Tartan..."
"I still say it's a skirt." He folded his arms, mutinously, and turned to face the angel. "I don't see why I have to..." his voice trailed off as he got a look at the angel's face, at the wide eyes and pink cheeks, at the way he licked his lips and swallowed hard. The demon smirked.
"Oh my, Crowley." The angel ran a finger across the material, his voice reverent. "Tartan..."