I had a hard time with this chapter, because I have a hard time with fashion. And sometimes I don't have a very good visual imagination, so I'll admit, I had a hard time visualizing Aziraphale as a chic, modern-looking man. So, I looked at a lot of men's fashion photos, ensembles in light colors, various jackets, shirts, trouser styles, and focused on a few favorites that I found. I also spent a bit of time browsing pictures of Michael Sheen wearing various things, but his real-life look is so different from that of Aziraphale, it was almost useless. It was easy for me to picture Crowley in a fitted suit (for some fairly obvious reasons), but a bit harder to put his counterpart in casual chic.

Here's the thing: so much fuss is made over David Tennant's almost 'ineffable' sex appeal… if not his looks, then at least his style, charisma, the way he carries himself, his great hair, lean body, pouty lips, etc. Plus, TV Crowley is crafted to be sexy, period. But in writing this, all the while, I kept in mind the fact that Michael Sheen is inescapably a very handsome man as well! I'm not just blowing smoke when I write about Aziraphale's amazing smile… that's Michael Sheen's smile! So, I don't know if you will have the same issues visualizing Aziraphale's new duds, but I invite you think on it, take time to form a picture in your mind's eye, as you go. Thanks! Enjoy!

We already know the effect Crowley's new suit has had on Aziraphale. Now, what effect will a restyled Aziraphale have upon Crowley?

LIGHTING A MIX AND MATCH

Aziraphale looked up into the soulful human eyes that had never left his. He'd been able to feel them as he had fastened a brilliant red, black, and gold snake tie round Crowley's neck, complementing the new G-line suit, that seemed to throw the former demon into a new stratosphere of tempting. He knew that his beautiful, somewhat sinister partner was quite moved, and just for a moment, his brown eyes amalgamated with the golden one on the tie.

The next thing Aziraphale knew, he'd been grabbed hard, and Crowley's tongue was in his mouth. He let it in with a groan, and gave himself over to a delicious, clandestine kiss…

…and somewhat to the feeling of tightening trousers, and the sensation of Crowley hardening, pressing against him.

Felicia was on her way back, they both knew it, and these clothes hadn't been paid for…

"Crowley, we have to stop," Aziraphale breathed, as his companion's mouth moved across his cheek and down his neck. "This isn't the time, nor the place."

"Oh, this is definitely the time," Crowley groaned, pressing forward, grinding his erection into Aziraphale's body.

The former angel groaned in response, in spite of himself. Then, "But not the place. And those trousers still need tailoring!"

"Shit," Crowley spat. He let go, and took a step back. "Fine. I hate when you're right."

Aziraphale blushed, again, in spite of himself, as he looked Crowley over – gorgeous suit, perfect tie, lust in his eyes… a six-foot bundle of temptation.

"I'll owe you big this Thursday night," he whispered.

Crowley smiled wickedly. "Do you mean, during the Philharmonic performance?"

"I make no promises about 'during,' but I'm certain I won't survive the evening sitting beside you in that suit," Aziraphale said, breathily.

"You won't have to look at me, and you'll have the music to distract you," Crowley smirked.

"Are you trying to talk me out of it?"

"Never. Never, ever."

"Perhaps we ask Anathema and Newt if they would mind having drinks with us prior to the performance, instead of after. I think we'll have to reserve 'after' for ourselves."

"Whatever you like, angel."

Felicia returned at that moment, and it did not escape her notice that the two of them were standing awfully close, were a bit intense, a bit breathless and flushed. And it definitely did not escape her notice when they abruptly moved apart like two repelling magnets, Aziraphale sat down on one of the ottomans and crossed his legs, and Crowley hopped behind the curtain.

He leaned only his upper-half out from behind the curtain to say, "I think this is the one. We'll take it."

"Excellent choice," she said. "Ooh, great tie."

"Thanks."

"Why don't I, er… well, I'll give you a couple more minutes to admire it if you'd like, before I pin it and prepare it for tailoring," she said, not making eye-contact. "Maybe I could just go and get the paperwork?"

"Speaking of tailoring," Aziraphale said. "What would it take to have it ready by Thursday?"

"I'm not sure. I'll erm… go get the paperwork for the purchase and find out for you. I will be back in five minutes."

"Fine," said Crowley.

"Is that enough time?" she asked him, pointedly.

"Enough time for what?" Aziraphale asked, totally innocent.

"It's plenty," Crowley said from behind the curtain. "Thank you, Felicia."

"Right," she said, uneasily, and she flitted out of the room.

"Enough time for what?" Aziraphale asked, again, after she was gone.

Crowley peeked out from behind the curtain and asked, "Why are your legs crossed?"

"Oh," Aziraphale said, blushing. "Oh, dear! She noticed?"

"Erm, yeah," Crowley answered, opening the curtain completely. The suit was definitely not fitting properly at the moment. "Wouldn't you?"

Aziraphale looked away, as though he'd just been made to look at the sun.

Crowley shut the curtain again and said, "We've got five minutes to calm down."

Aziraphale took a deep breath, then rested his hands on his lap. "All right. Unsexy thoughts… oh I know! Hastur. Or Beelzebub."

"Gabriel, and the Archwanker Brigade," said Crowley. "Gabriel in a ballgown and tiara?"

"The Dark Council. In their undergarments!"

"The Dark Council grinding their teeth…"

"The Dark Council tapdancing!" Aziraphale offered.

"No, I've got it! Gabriel in a ballgown and tiara, performing 'Hey Big Spender' in front of the Dark Council!"

The two of them laughed, and spent the next five minutes talking through the curtain about the stupidest, least-sexy things they could think of.

By the time Felicia returned with an electronic tablet and a pin cushion, Aziraphale was dying with laughter, and Crowley was singing in an off-key falsetto, "Cream-coloured ponies and crisp apple strudels, doorbells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles…"

"Oh God, stop, stop!" Aziraphale cried out, cackling uncontrollably.

"Hi, gents," Felicia said. "Glad to see you're enjoying yourselves!"

Crowley opened the curtain and smiled. "We are. But not too much. That's kind of the point, eh? Angel, get a hold of yourself, for goodness' sake! It wasn't THAT funny!"

It was another twenty seconds before Aziraphale was finally able to wipe his eyes, breathe normally, and speak.

"Sorry about this," Crowley said to Felicia. "As it happens 'My Favourite Things' is one of his least favourite things. So naturally, I torture him with the entire 'Sound of Music' songbook."

Aziraphale gave his last couple of chuckles, then said, "Oh, good Heavens! Apologies, my dear. Have you got something for me to sign?"

"Yes. Do you have an account with us?"

"No, but I'll start one, if that's all right," he said, still guffawing just a bit.

"Absolutely," she said. And she handed him the tablet and instructed him as to how to fill in his information and create a Harrod's charge account. She also pointed out the cost of the suit, plus the tie, and speedy alterations.

Then, she opened a hidden cabinet and rolled out a round pedestal and put it beside one of the larger mirrors. Crowley stepped up, and she began to pin his new suit, so that it would fit (even more) like a glove.

While she worked, Crowley asked, "Do you mind if we keep this dressing suite for a bit longer? When you're finished with that, it will be my companion's turn to model some new duds."

"A suit?" she asked out of one corner of her mouth. Pins were lodged in the other corner.

"No, just… something casual. We're going to see a Queen cover band, and I just don't want him getting his lunch money nicked," Crowley said.

"Well, the suite is for suit fittings…" Felicia began.

"I'd hate to tempt you into breaking the rules, but he's actually quite nervous. I think it might help him if we could keep things private."

"Actually, my dear, it's not necessary," Aziraphale said to Felicia. "I've become much less nervous since…" He trailed off, because his trepidation had dissipated quite a bit after a wave of desire had come over him, upon seeing Crowley in a new suit. But he could hardly say that he was looking forward to being viewed by his lover as a piece of meat.

"Well, we ARE actually doing a suit fitting," Felicia said. "No-one can say we didn't do one when we used the suite, so… why not?"

"And there's nothing that says I can't try on a suit," Aziraphale shrugged.

"What sort of thing are you actually looking for?" she asked, looking briefly at Aziraphale, pinning one of the darts in the back of Crowley's new suit coat.

"I'm not sure. I'm putting myself entirely in the hands of my companion, here," he responded. "I would have absolutely no idea what to choose. You may have noticed, I gravitate towards things that have been a bit démodé for quite a few years."

"One never knows," she said, chuckling, still holding pins between the corners of her lips. "Everything eventually comes back into fashion."

Felicia locked the dressing room, so as to keep it vacant for possibly the most eccentric and amusing couple she had ever had the pleasure of working with and observing.

She and Aziraphale followed Crowley, who was back in his own black t-shirt and jeans, like an entourage through the men's department, whilst he browsed.

In truth, 'browsing' is quite a relaxed description for what he was doing.

He earnestly examined hundreds of items of sportswear: jackets, shirts of all types, trousers, and accessories. He seemed only marginally aware that he wasn't alone, even as he yanked things off the rack, checked the size (Aziraphale had known his own measurements) and handed them off to his partner, or the saleswoman.

Felicia had become weighed down with so many jackets (sport, leather, suede, blazers) that she could no longer carry them. She excused herself and took them back to the dressing room. Within a few moments, Aziraphale could handle no more hangers of trousers (khaki, brown, grey, linen, cotton/poly blends, denim) in the crook of his hand, and left to follow Felicia back to the dressing room.

The two of them hung the chosen garments neatly in the alcove behind the curtain, and waited just for a moment, before Crowley came through the door with an armful of shirts, ties, and belts.

"Oh, goodness! What am I supposed to do with all that?" Aziraphale asked, almost despairingly.

Felicia took it all out of Crowley's hands, and joined it with the garments they had already hung up.

"Mix and match, angel," Crowley responded, with a grand gesture of both arms. "There may be a few exceptions, but for my money, any combination of trousers, shirt, belt, and jacket should 'go.' There may be styles and cuts and concepts you don't fancy, but that's why we're here."

"Mix and match?" Aziraphale asked, unsurely. He looked at Felicia.

"He's chosen a tan, grey, and blue colour palate," Felicia said. "Like he said, with a few exceptions, you should do well just to pick some things and put them on."

"Okay," Aziraphale breathed. "Let's see where this takes us. Tally-ho."

"One rule: you have to show me everything you put on," Crowley insisted.

Aziraphale nodded with a shy smile, then stepped into the alcove, and pulled the curtain closed.

Felicia sat down on an ottoman next to the former demon. "So, Mr. Crowley, I have never caught your partner's name," she said, loudly, as a whimsical way of asking the question.

"Fell," Aziraphale said from behind the curtain. "That's my, er… my surname."

"All right, Mr. Fell," she chirped. "I'm curious – what is it that has made you wear Victorian vintage items for so long?"

"Oh…" Aziraphale began rather fretfully, and in his tone, Crowley sensed panic. Not only was he currently doing something that was way outside of his comfort zone, but he was being asked to think fast. He had to come up with the answer to a question he had perhaps never been asked, and cover for the fact that he had been on this planet longer than the Pyramids at Giza, and had bought his current ensemble new in 1839. Other pieces at home (or at the dry cleaner's) were newer – his favourite tailor had been in his heyday between 1856 and 1871.

"Well, like we said before, he's an antique book dealer," Crowley said, leaning forward with his elbows on his thighs and his hands clasped as though casually chatting. "He wanted authenticity and ambiance, you know? So he started dressing the part, and I guess couldn't stop."

"Ah, interesting," she commented. "Have you had them all made for you? Do you go to a costumer?"

"No, they are original," Aziraphale responded, without thinking.

"Wow!" she exclaimed. "They are in amazing shape!"

"Yes, well," he chuckled nervously from behind the curtain. "I'm a natural at keeping things pristine. Or rather, I used to be."

"Yet another reason to buy you some new stuff, angel," Crowley muttered. Then he cleared his throat. "How's it going back there? Are things fitting you?"

"Oh, yes," Aziraphale answered. "I think I'm ready to open the curtain now."

"Well, what the Heaven are you waiting for?" Crowley asked with a smile.

Aziraphale pulled the curtain back and revealed himself wearing a pair of dark blue jeans with a blue and white, large-printed tartan shirt tucked into it. He had put his Sawyer and Sims loafers back on, and was holding an off-white blazer in his hand.

Crowley was speechless for a moment. In the last few months, he had seen his angel in a small variety of states-of-dress, outside of his usual waistcoat and bowtie, et cetera. He had seen him dressed for yoga or exercise, in pyjamas, and of course, in the nude. Though, none of these had been chosen for style, and the shock of seeing Aziraphale in modern walking-around clothes was a bit of a shock to his system.

Felicia, fortunately, got to her feet, and distracted a bit from Crowley's gaping jaw.

"That shirt is meant to be worn untucked. And let me just…" she said to Aziraphale, as she unbuttoned his left shirt cuff, and began to roll it up.

"Oh, okay," he said. He untucked the shirt, and rolled up the other sleeve. "Like this?"

"Yeah…" Crowley mused, still a bit taken aback. "Like that."

"Very smart," Felicia marvelled.

Aziraphale raised his arms a bit, and looked down at himself. It felt odd, but not unpleasant, and of course, Crowley's reaction was being recorded for posterity. He had said that Aziraphale trying on clothes would have him lying back like a gecko on a rock, trying not to touch himself. But instead, he seemed more surprised and enthralled, drooly, rather than cool.

Aziraphale noticed then that he had pockets. "Oh! I've never had pockets before!" he exclaimed, shoving his hands into them, and rocked back on his heels with a smile.

This pose hit Crowley like a ton of bricks. "Wow…" he whispered.

"Do the jeans feel all right?" asked Felicia. "They look great – very fitted, modern."

"Yes, only… I'm not fond of the texture of denim," Aziraphale told her.

"Okay, you've got plenty of other things to choose from," she said. "Try on the blazer."

He did. It was just a bit snug across the shoulders, so he didn't button it, but he seemed to like what he saw in the mirror when he turned. And again, he slid his hands into the pockets, and posed for Crowley. "What do you think? Worthy of Seen Queen?"

"Uhhh…" Crowley could only answer. Then he came to, and pulled his smartphone from his pocket.

"What're you doing, you silly thing?" Aziraphale complained.

"Snapping a photo. For later."

"What?"

"Just… try on the next thing," Crowley commanded. "Er, should we wrap these things up?"

"I suppose so," Aziraphale said.

"Even the jeans? Could you get used to them?" Then Crowley broke into a smile, and a nervous, surrendering laugh. "I'd really love it if you got used to them."

Aziraphale bent his knees. "I could try."

"We'll take them," Crowley told Felicia.

She moved toward Aziraphale and scanned each thing that he was wearing with a sku gun. He then smiled flirtatiously at Crowley, and shut the curtain again.

Felicia watched him bat his eyes, then looked at Crowley's glazed-over eyes as the curtain shut, and asked, "More wine?"

It was all she could think to ask, though she had so many more questions than that.

"Erm, yes, thanks," Crowley answered.

"I'll be right back."

The two of them said nothing until Aziraphale opened the curtain again, before she returned.

This time, he had put on a pair of worn-looking bluish-grey trousers. Above the waist, he was wearing a tee-shirt of a similar colour, and a light grey cashmere jumper over it. The cashmere item had a zip at the neck, and he was wearing it closed only a quarter of the way. He was smiling. "I rather like this one."

Crowley smiled, eyes drooping a bit. "Me, too."

"You know, for centuries, I've heard people singing the praises of cashmere, but I've never bothered to wonder at what the fuss was about. Now I see the appeal."

"Oh, yes."

After a bit more banter, he shut the curtain one more time, and by the time he opened it again, Felicia had returned with two more glasses, and Crowley had downed most of his. Aziraphale was now wearing a pair of khaki flat-front trousers with a brown calfskin belt. Tucked into them was a white nylon v-neck tee-shirt, and over that, a tan leather jacket. The collar was more of a band than a collar, and had a snap clasp. Other than that, its lines were clean and straight – no zips except for the long one in front, no pockets, no unnecessary seams.

Crowley stood up, and held out his arms subtly toward his partner, and said, "Angel, what did I tell you? Efficient, elegant, smart. Nonchalant, fashionable, sexy."

"Do you think so?"

"Oh, I do," Crowley breathed.

Aziraphale smiled and said, "I look like a version of you in light colours."

Crowley took his hands and smiled back. "You've always been the other side of my coin." Then he lowered his voice a Hell of a lot. "A tail for my head, if you will."

Aziraphale felt a flush of warmth, in all the right ways. He leaned to his left to look past Crowley, and say to Felicia, "We'll take this ensemble as well."

"Fantastic," she said. "Are you finished trying things on, or are you going to continue fitting?"

Staring into Crowley's brown eyes, and noticing the droopy smirk on his face, Aziraphale responded, "I think I'm finished for the day. Three possible ensembles will do."

Crowley looked his lover over, with renewed vigour in his gaze. He whispered, "I can't wait to muss you all up, angel."

"Oh, my…"

"Straight home after this?" he asked, with one flit of a naughty, uneven eyebrow.

"Right, well, I'll go get the paperwork again," Felicia interrupted. "Mr. Fell, would you like to wear those clothes out of the store?"

"Yes, he would," Crowley said. "He'll need a chance to live in them first, before we do the real thing at a rock concert."

Aziraphale smiled indulgently. "A chance to live in them first?"

"Yes."

"The way guns lend weight to a moral argument?"

Crowley chuckled, charmed by the challenge and sarcasm.

"Okay. I'll be back in a couple of minutes, gents," she reminded them pointedly, not having heard precisely what was said, but having picked up their tone. "A couple of minutes. Okay?"

"Thank you, my dear," Aziraphale said, without looking at her, and she stepped out of the room.

Crowley smiled, still standing quite close to his always-lovely, but today very sleek-looking, partner. "She was very insistent on that 'couple of minutes' point. She thinks we might want to fuck."

"Where ever would she get an idea like that?" Aziraphale asked, with a flush.

"Pretty bloody presumptuous of her," Crowley muttered, still grinning, and he reached out and pressed his hand against a growing bulge at the front of a pair of unpaid-for khaki flat-front trousers.

Aziraphale took a step back. "Not now."

"Sorry. Can't help myself. You look so different. Sophisticated. Powerful. I'm seeing you buying property on the Greek Coast and being served cocktails by shirtless men."

"Well, keep your hands to yourself for the time being. Didn't you say that you're viewing this little excursion as foreplay?" Aziraphale asked, haughtily. "I think we should take a bit more time."

"Ah, yes. Ye-of-the-motor-show-slow-burn would know quite well that foreplay can be a protracted process."

"It can."

"So, perhaps we slow down for now, and shop for shoes next. Then perhaps we have dinner and drinks, then dessert, maybe go for a walk, and then…" Again, he flitted an eyebrow to suggest what might happen next.

"All right."

"Temptation accomplished?"

"As usual."

The next chapter will have more on Crowley's comments here, about a "powerful" Aziraphale, and where this "costume" takes them. I decided that the new look is quite potent for everyone involved, especially considering Aziraphale's long-stilted dress habits.

Thank you for reading! Reviews are almost NIL on this story, so why not make my day by leaving another one? :-)