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[There's an amused noise from Crowley, like he wants to tease further but hasn't decided how much to commit just yet, which is a familiar situation for them both.]

We'll be the talk of the town.

[Things not to think about: Jaskier immediately pinging him as being head over heels for Aziraphale. Hopefully no one else has noticed, that's the wrong kind of talk.]

You could've at least put me in Chanel, you know.

[Literally famous for the tweed suits.

That might be too modern for Aziraphale.]

[ Aziraphale feels like if they're not the talk of the town a little bit already, they've lost their touch. Can't be saying that, though.

Additionally: ? ]

What's perfume got to do with it?

[ His knowledge is selective. Like dumping several different jigsaw puzzles into one box and shaking the pieces around. ]

[Honestly, he should probably be glad that Aziraphale is at least partially familiar with the brand.]

They make clothes, too. You know, Jackie Kennedy? Audrey Hepburn? Princess bloody Di?

[Since his clothes have already been switched out once today, he figures he might as well do it again, and snaps his fingers to change into a Chanel suit to demonstrate what he's talking about.]

It's iconic, this damn thing.

[ What's the point of putting Crowley in tweed for the petty goof if he's going to do it himself two minutes later and look lovely. Ugh. No one has ever suffered like Aziraphale in the entire history of history. ]

I've seen the fashion, but I didn't think any particular name cornered that market.

[ Humans will just be wearing styles. They love to do that. ]

[RIP to Aziraphale, Crowley just lives in this suit now until he gets bored.]

Oh, Chanel was all the rage, especially post-war. She started incorporating fabrics and cuts from what the men were wearing at the time, it was a big change from the big skirts and corsets before the war. The early styles were better, honestly, but this is the suit that became iconic look in the fifties and sixties.

[Special interest: unlocked. Aziraphale gets to hear about fashion unless he changes the subject to distract Crowley from something he actually paid attention to.]

[ Cruel. Unusual.

A worthy price to pay to hear Crowley go on about something that he likes that Aziraphale knows almost nothing about? Possibly. How often does he get this rare unlockable? Crowley listens to him prattle on about things he likes all the time.

He doesn't have to Get It, all he has to get is comfy in his chair to listen. ]

A forward-thinker, then! [ The bae loves forward-thinkers, he knows that. ] Well, what made the early styles better?

[Is Crowley aware that he's being indulged?

Not really, no, because even though he indulges Aziraphale frequently, it doesn't occur to him that it works in reverse, that Aziraphale might just want to hear him prattle on about something regardless of his own personal interest.

He's stupid.]

I just preferred the silhouettes of the twenties and thirties. The drop waist, a bit looser around the shoulders. Things all got a bit stiff and square towards the fifties, not to mention the color palette got brighter. [Wearing pink was obviously out of the question.] Fortunately that's around when Yves Saint Laurent introduced the tuxedo for women, so I started wearing Saint Laurent if I wanted to go that route.

[AKA being read by humans as female.]

[ Your honor... ]

You do have a good silhouette for a bit of flow.

[ That's not over the top to say when they're talking about clothes.

Not that Crowley isn't clearly a stunner in something angular, but still. ]

I suppose I can see how the turn towards pastels would put a bump in the road for you.

[ Probably too much of a talking point for a demon to spring for springs. ]

[Oh??? A compliment??? It's rare that he gets a compliment, even more rare that he gets one about his silhouette. There's an instinct to say something self-effacing, but he actually kind of just wants to have the compliment without making a big fuss about it.

He smiles to himself, trying to hide it behind a sip of his drink.]

S'why I miss the twenties.

[That and all the opulence after the restrictions of the war. It made his work very easy.]

It was a proper tragedy, but that's half the fun of fashion, having to figure out the next thing when the old one no longer works.

[New unlocked information: Crowley life philosophy lore.]

[ Step one in Aziraphale's simply incomprehensible and unhinged romance flowchart is a success. Got a compliment in there, so normally and casually. Cannot wait to write about it in his diary.

He loves this, actually. Crowley is the most interesting thing to learn about. Like a puzzle cube but a snake demon and also his oldest friend slash only friend slash situationship. ]

When you put it like that, it makes sense why keeping current has always been so up your street.

[ Creativity, adaptability, fluidity, a bit of improvisation. General interest in looking nice. Very Crowley. ]

[It finally occurs to Crowley that he's spent the last couple of minutes talking about something that Aziraphale likely has zero interest in and he kind of wants to throw himself into a snow bank about it.

It would be one thing if they were drunk, they both tend to ramble on when that happens, but the whiskey has done barely enough, so there's no excuse.

The only thing that stops him from clamming up is the fact it would be weird to clam up right now. Submitting to the mortifying ordeal of being known is the worst.]

Gotta find something to keep myself entertained with, haven't I? Hell wasn't about to kick up a fuss over some vanity and pride.

[Unlike other potential interests, this was a safe one to keep.

It's a slightly depressing thought, if he dwells on it for too long. It makes him wonder how much of his... personality is just a byproduct of fear.]

[ RIP Crowley. A fly in the web of conversational convention. Aziraphale wants to put him in a jar and study him for science, in the most loving way possible. ]

No, I suppose they wouldn't. [ But. Consider. ] Does that mean you'll be adding to your repertoire now? Oodles of options, you know. Outlets for days!

[ Jazz hands!!!!!!! This bitch loves hobbies. ]

[Years and years of exposure means that Crowley manages not to be immediately infected by Aziraphale's enthusiasm, but it's still hard not to get a tiny bit swept up in it.]

I hadn't much thought about it, really. [And yet here he sits, in a Chanel suit.] Suppose it couldn't hurt, but don't think that means you'll get me in tweed. It's not happening.

[What are empty glasses for if not to gesture accusingly at Aziraphale? Just in case this whole thing was a ploy to try to talk Crowley into tweed.]

Oh, I think we've established that it's better to let you come to tweed in your own time. [ He sounded very fainting-goat about the whole affair. And yet here he sits, in a Chanel suit?

Aziraphale will simply be openly enthusiastic enough for both of them in the meantime. ]

The horizon stretches far beyond textiles, Crowley. They've got interior decorating and marine biology now. You could try art! Beekeeping! You could get certified to operate a tower crane. [ Could Aziraphale even point out a tower crane if he walked past one? Probably not. He says "tower crane" like he's talking about a mythical beast, because he hasn't gotten that certification himself yet. ] It's all about dabbling and, and, like you said, figuring out the next thing if the first thing doesn't work. You'll love it.

[ Except for things that he tries and hates, but then he even has something he can complain about. ]

[Things Aziraphale gets to witness: Crowley's face journey as he firstly realizes that he's been played like a damn fiddle about the tweed and secondly as he realizes that Aziraphale wasn't just talking about trying some new fashions, but trying new hobbies.

The first look is familiar. The second one is newer, because he's trying not to be immediately scowly and dismissive, but his instinct is to be scowly and dismissive, so he had to wrestle with his face for a moment, trying to figure out what to do with it.

He's a demon, he shouldn't have hobbies. Shouldn't love anything, but he finds he can't bring himself to say all that, not when Aziraphale sounds so enthusiastic and not when it might be taken the wrong way.

This is one of those situations where he feels weird and squirmy and kind of wants to hide under a desk for a while. Too many emotions and too much vulnerability.]

M'pretty certain demons aren't supposed to have hobbies, angel.

[Because Crowley is great at being a demon and only does things that demons would do.

He's also pretty certain his voice sounds weird, that roughness that comes when he's trying to hide too much, so he quickly follows up with:]

Do you even know what a tower crane is?

[ Hm. Well, half of that face journey is very satisfying. The back half of it is... odd. Not really in Aziraphale's catalogue of things that Crowley's face does around him. He'd put it in the "Confused" category, if he absolutely had to hazard a guess, but that still leaves him confused about what was so confusing.

Too much energy? Too many suggestions? Is it really just the demon business, even though Crowley must surely be the least traditional and most morally flexible demon of all?

Aziraphale doesn't say angels probably aren't supposed to have hobbies either, strictly speaking, because even he's not so dense that he thinks the treatment would be the same. Heaven was always... civil. About his little oddities. Can't imagine Hell would be anything of the sort. ]

I suspect it's larger than a breadbox and has more than two levers. [ Hence requiring certifications. This is the weirdest round of Guess Who? ever. ] Still. Just something to think about. From one... one free agent to another, yes?

[ He can be so normal about the concept of Crowley exploring things that might bring him tiny joys.

He is so normal and fully capable of simply leaving the idea out on the floor for later perusal, the way one might leave a water dish out for a very upset cat hiding under a bed.

He definitely doesn't already have a mental scrapbook page with bullet points about things Crowley might have fun trying out, next to the mental scrapbook page he's using to sketch out their wedding invitations that have cute little twill "save the date" ribbons included. ]

[It's tricky to pinpoint what, exactly, about this conversation has him wanting to throw himself out the window to avoid continuing it, despite the fact its just a stupid conversation about what he might do with his retirement. Some of it is ingrained and hard learned fear, from the knowledge that Hell can and will take away anything he cares about. Being one of Satan's favorites doesn't save him from the ire of other demons.

(There's something about caring too much, once, about loving something he crafted so much that he was cast out of the only home he'd ever known.)

But some of it is about feeling far too vulnerable in front of Aziraphale, specifically, regardless of the fact that Aziraphale wouldn't mock him or insult him. He's certainly teased before, about some of the things Crowley is willing to admit to caring about (bebop), but that's different than being unkind about it, and Crowley knows he wouldn't be cruel. It all just seems so intimate, somehow, the thought of Aziraphale knowing that he wants to – paint or learn an instrument or study marine biology.

Sometimes he's aware that his thoughts don't make sense; this is one of those times, which really only makes the entire situation so uncomfortable.]

I'll think about it.

[Said in the tone of someone who is going to do his damn best not to think about it.]

How about you, then? You want to take up embroidery?

[Did he pick a stereotypical old lady hobby on purpose?

Yes.]

[ Aziraphale can hardly ask for more than the consideration. Fake or not.

It's Crowley's confusing gordian knot to pick at, after all, he can't presume to roll up his sleeves and have at it. There's time. There's time.

So he'll follow the blatant conversational redirection, proof of concept that he's capable of leaving it be, and he won't even pout about it. For the time being. ]

Don't threaten me with a good excuse to break out the thimbles.

[ Here's the thing. Thimbles are cute and he loves them. Here's another thing. Aziraphale has now already imagined embroidering something onto a handkerchief and giving it to Crowley like a very poorly-crafted token of favor. ]

[It's always nice when Aziraphale understands what's being said without it needing to be said. He could have just asked him to drop the subject, but that would've meant admitting that it bothered him, which is another kind of vulnerable altogether, and it's so much easier when they can just naturally move on.

The mention of thimbles makes him think of Wendy and Peter, but he shoves that silly thought right down.]

You know they make them out of silicone these days, no more intricate little gold designs.

[Time to upset Aziraphale on purpose.

It's a wonderful day at the North Pole and you are a horrible demon.]

They what?

[ Critical hit. Nothing is sacred anymore. He can't believe he has to struggle like this. ]

Noooooo, the traditional ones are so lovely, why would they do that?

[If life were a video game, Crowley would have a little running count of all the times he manages to get Aziraphale all flustered about something unimportant.]

Better flexibility, I suppose. The metal ones do make life a bit difficult.

[Look, he presented as a woman for a long time, it's unsurprising he got dragged into embroidery at one point.]

[ Crowley is never not level-grinding in Nuisance. ]

But they're prettier. [ He hasn't even seen one of these newfangled ones, he can sense that he'll think they're not as pretty. And even if they are nice-looking, they're actually not. ] And all the craftsmanship that went into them! The personal touches!

[ What's the point!!!!!!!! ]

It isn't as if they've outlawed the old ones.

[This is the best fun, getting to rile Aziraphale up and then pretend that he agrees with whatever Situation the angel is upset about just to make things worse.]

Just a lot easier to make and t'work with. You know how the new generation is, need everything handed to them.

[Now he's just parroting human nonsense and Aziraphale knows it.]

It's not the same.

[ On account of: he doesn't like it and doesn't like that it's not the same.

Crowley can watch his parroting turn Aziraphale into a puffed-up owl. His final form. ]

Oh, stop that. Absolutely ridiculous.

[It takes some self-restraint not to burst out laughing, but he manages it.

Barely.]

Stop what? M'just telling the truth.

[He's the worst. Get him on Fox News.]

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