#i'm coffeecakecafe over there Also

[coffeecakecafe]

Have you sold prints of Oberon before? I absolutely love the character design and your works with him.

I haven't! I do have a semi-defunct society6 I could revive and throw some things up on though, if anyone is interested in having prints?

and thank you! he is my darlingest boy I love making dramatic art about him :D

[thinkingisadangerouspastime]

flustered

(in which the author finds a dozen synonyms for "blush", while heaven and hell go to war. sort of.)

loosely based off this request by @coffeecakecafe! hopefully it falls at least somewhat in line with what you wanted

~*~

The first time Aziraphale held his hand, Crowley's face turned a shade of red darker than the roses he'd brought to celebrate the anniversary of Armageddon't. The angel, thankfully, had politely ignored the demon's flustered reaction and graciously accepted the flowers, commenting about how lovely they'd look on the windowsill above the sink.

The first time Aziraphale hugged him, Crowley thought he was going to have a heart attack. He instead buried his face into the angel's shoulder to hide his embarrassment. Aziraphale, who truly was a literal and figurative angel, had simply chuckled and allowed the demon to stay that way for a moment before taking his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.

They first time they kissed, Crowley was pretty sure he was going to discorporate. Fortunately, he didn't. Unfortunately, he did turn into a snake, which was probably the most humiliated he'd ever been in his life, even if Aziraphale did insist that it was "rather adorable". Apparently pining for 6000 years had done nothing to prepare Crowley for just how overwhelming physical affection could be.

After a while, of course, he got more used to it. In fact, Crowley preferred to be the one to initiate physical affection, though he couldn't deny that he also thoroughly enjoyed when Aziraphale took the lead.

But despite Crowley's adjustment, his angel nonetheless still knew exactly how to make him flustered. The trick was unexpected affection. Or, as Crowley had dubbed it, "surprise attacks".

Sometimes they'd be watching a movie at Crowley's flat, and Aziraphale would rest his head on the demon's shoulder and slip his hand into Crowley's. Crowley, then, would have to pretend that his heart rate hadn't skyrocketed and that his face hadn't reddened like an overripe tomato.

Other times they'd be sitting on a bench in the park, talking about everything and nothing, and Aziraphale would lean over and press a kiss to the demon's temple. Crowley would blush and demand to know what, exactly, the angel thought he was doing, to which Aziraphale would respond with "you look adorable when you're flustered, my dear".

But, no matter what he tried, Crowley could never make Aziraphale flustered. This was not to say he couldn't satisfy the angel, of course. He knew very well that Aziraphale did not mind being pushed up against the wall every so often. Aziraphale was also fond of being on the receiving end of spontaneous acts of affection. (Oftentimes being pushed up against the wall was a spontaneous act of affection.)

But nothing got Aziraphale flustered. Surprise makeout sessions, PDA, whatever - while it was all enjoyable for the both of them - could not get a reaction out of the angel. And really, that was frustrating Crowley to no end.

(He'd even resorted to asking Beelzebub for advice. The two demons had been on much better terms after the Prince of Hell had hooked up with the archangel Gabriel. Despite their similar situations, Beelzebub's advice was virtually useless. If anything, their situations were too similar. Beelzebub also seemed to be the one who got flustered.)

Crowley didn't give up, of course. It was almost ridiculously satisfying to see Aziraphale blush and he'd be damned - again - if he couldn't figure out the trick to getting the angel flustered.

One day, he got lucky.

They were at the Ritz, playing out their usual routine where Aziraphale would eat and ramble aimlessly while Crowley sipped at water or wine and listened. At that moment, the angel was chattering excitedly about how he was going to acquire a limited edition of the The Crucible soon and that he couldn't wait to examine Arthur Miller's notes -

"Oh, I'm sorry, my dear. This must be terribly boring for you."

Crowley chuckled, offering Aziraphale a rare smile. "Not at all. You get this sort of spark in your eyes when you're excited about something. It's... endearing."

Aziraphale blushed. "O-Oh. Well, as long as - as long as you're sure you don't mind."

"Honest, angel. It's fi -" He cut himself off and did a double take of the situation in front of him. Hold the phone, ladies and gents and other respectable folk. "Wait. Are you blushing?"

Aziraphale's face turned a deeper shade of pink. "You simply caught me off guard, that's all. And not to mention we're in public -"

"Oh my Go - Sata - fuck." Crowley ran a hand through his hair, internally cursing his obliviousness. "Compliments! That's it!" Of course it would be compliments that got his angel flustered. Aziraphale was a reader, a writer - words meant everything to him.

Aziraphale frowned, trying and failing to send Crowley an intimidating glare. "I haven't any idea what you're referring to."

"Oh?" Crowley raised an eyebrow, unable to keep a satisfied smirk off his lips. "So you wouldn't care if I said that you were the most good-looking person in this room? That when you slowly lick food off your lips it's so damn enticing? That the way you scrunch your nose up when you think is ridiculously adorable? That -"

"Crowley!" Aziraphale interrupted, his face so red it could have resembled the perfectly ripe apple from Eden. "You're embarrassing me. What if someone overheard you?"

"Then they'd think we're two humans - definitely not supernatural beings - that are in love and enjoying a wonderful evening together."

"But still!"

"Well, I've got some bad news for you, angel." Crowley leaned over the table and whispered, "I love how you cute you look when you're flustered."

Aziraphale buried his face in his hands, muffling his reply. "I hate you."

"Psh," Crowley scoffed. "You love me."

Aziraphale moved his hands away to glare at the demon. "You have no what you've just started."

"Oh, but I think I do." Crowley rested his chin on his hands, grinning. "But if it means I get to see this side of you more often, then I don't think I mind. You're hot when you're angry."

"Crowley!"

The demon chuckled but decided to let his angel off the hook. "Alright, alright. Finish telling me about The Crucible. What kind of notes do you expect Miller's written?"

Aziraphale brightened up immediately, launching into detail about the parallels between the Salem Witch trials and the two Red Scares in America.

Crowley did his best to listen, but his thoughts kept drifting back to his newfound discovery. Compliments! Really, he should have seen that coming. He'd have to start writing down every possible way to flatter the angel. That would be his ammunition for this war.

And really, for better or for worse, Crowley had indeed declared war by pushing the angel as far as he had. Of course, this was a war he intended to win.

Huh. It seemed Heaven and Hell would be going to battle after all.

"I know what you're thinking."

Crowley blinked, Aziraphale's voice pulling him out of his thoughts. "What?"

"You think you're going to defeat me." Aziraphale dabbed his mouth with his napkin before placing his hands on his lap. "I suggest you rid yourself of that foolish notion immediately."

Crowley opened his mouth to counter, but he froze as he felt a hand gently tracing circles on his upper thigh.

"My dear boy." Aziraphale smirked, his blue eyes burning with heat more intense than hellfire. "You don't stand a chance."

~*~