4. Shopping II
"I'm not coming out."
Crowley rolled his eyes. "Stop being such a baby Aziraphale and let me have a look at you."
He'd finally done it. He'd done what centuries of changing fashions had not been able to do: he'd convinced Aziraphale to buy a pair of jeans. He deserved a medal from the fashion police just for getting Aziraphale into Levi's.
"You'll just laugh at me."
"If you don't come out I'm coming in after you," threatened the demon.
"Fine." Aziraphale came out of the cubicle with a scowl plastered on his face.
Crowley did a double take. He actually looked…good.
Aziraphale eyed him warily. "You're laughing at me. I can tell. I'm taking them off," he said turning back towards the changing rooms.
"No! I mean, no. They look good on you. Seriously."
"I still prefer tartan to all this…denim," said the blonde man with distaste.
"We're getting them," said Crowley to the amused sales assistant.
***
Well, thought Crowley to himself, that was one hurdle passed. Now, to get him out that awful tweed jacket of his. Crowley broke into a sweat as he paid for the jeans, thinking of trials ahead of him. This was going to be harder than averting Armageddon. It will be worth it in the end. He recited the mantra in his head twice as fast as he dragged Aziraphale away from Terry's Tartan 'n' Tweed. Crowley was just thankful they were immortals.
