Disclaimer: I do not own Crowley or Aziraphale. Neil Gaiman and Terry Prachett owns them.
Persuasion
"No!"
"Come on."
"Absolutely not!"
"It'll be fun. Angels do know how to have fun, right?" Crowley was trying to convince Aziraphale to go with him to a club. "Please."
"Well, I'll think about it. Okay. Thought about it. NO!" Crowley was determined to get Aziraphale out of the flat. He'd managed to get him out of his bookshop and actually to the flat, but apparently that's as far as Aziraphale wanted to go. He was losing patience.
"You'll come if I have to drag you by those angelic little ears of yours!"
"Try it! I dare you, demon!" A struggle ensues. This goes on for some time, until finally Crowley pins Aziraphale to the floor by his wrists. After trying uselessly to wriggle free, Aziraphale gives up. "Alright! Enough! You win."
"Good. Alright, then! Let's go." Aziraphale actually had a plan.
"Or, on second thought, we could just both stay here."
"In the flat? Where's the fun in that?"
"We could um," rushing to think of something, "uh, rent a film!"
"If we did that, you'd have to pick, and it would undoubtedly be some boring documentary or historical film. Nope! Can't have that. Let's go, Angel!" Crowley grabbed Aziraphale's arm a dragged him toward the door.
In a panic: "O-or we could do what you want to do. Just let go of me. Your nails are digging into my arm."
"What I want to do?"
Aziraphale hesitated. "Y-yes." Crowley grinned widely at his comrade. 'This is what I've waited for,' he thought.
"Aziraphale. Dear. You won't do what it is that I want to do. It's, well, not exactly your, uh, thing."
"What exactly is it that you want to do?" 'Or do I want to know.' He didn't say the last part. Aziraphale knew that gender didn't matter to Crowley when it came to certain, er, aspects of life that involved two people. The demon approached him. He hadn't put on his sunglasses yet, and his eyes glinted faintly.
Then, breathing into the angel's ear, "Guess." Aziraphale took in a short gasp, mostly because of the tone, but somewhat because Crowley had his hands on the angel's shoulder blades and had pulled him forward. Aziraphale looked puzzled for a moment, then it struck him. He knew exactly what Crowley wanted to do with him. Or to him, in this case.
"Uh, anything but that. That, I can't do, as much as I'd like to, for the simple fact of who I work for. No. Can't do that. Uh, Crowley, what are you doing? I said no." Crowley had started unbuttoning the angel's shirt. He made it down about four buttons before Aziraphale noticed.
"Oh, relax. You're the one who said we could do what I wanted to do. Now be quiet. I don't want to hear another peep out of you." Then, as an afterthought, "Unless it's a moan, of course."
Aziraphale started backing away and pulling his shirt together. "Crowley. No! Bad demon. Wait. Never mind. I forgot for a moment. I mean it, Crowley, stop it this instant, because if you don't, I will be forced to …"
"Aziraphale."
"Yes?"
"Shut up."
"Right."
"Thank you."
A/N: I know. Ending sucked. I'm sorry. I know I suck. Please let me know if you actually liked it. I need and ego boost at this point in time.