#Aziraphale is not completely opposed to crossdressing

[ineffably-good]

Flufftober #30: Costumes

(Ok this isn’t really the prompt - the official prompt was pumpkins, but I already covered that pretty specifically in a prompt #4 -- so I made up my own.) 

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“Crowley, look, we’ve been invited to a costume party!” Aziraphale said, his voice rising in excitement. “Oh I do love Halloween!”

Crowley frowns. “Well I don’t. Demons hate Halloween. Haven’t we talked about this already?”

“I know, I know,” Aziraphale says, considering his best moves in this situation. “And if you don’t want to go, we don’t have to. But – you like spooky! You really like spooky. And you like misbehavior, right? Few places are as rife with chances for misbehavior as a costume party! You just think it over a little bit…”

And with that he sat back and buried himself in his book, while secretly watching Crowley’s face.

Crowley did give it some thought. He remembered how much of a good time he used to have at masked balls in eighteenth century France, for one. Somehow people thought that just by putting a lacy mask across a tiny portion of their face, they were completely unrecognizable and all the normal social mores no longer applied to them. It was like ground zero for the temptation trade; people were up for almost anything when they found themselves in costume.

Plus there was the fact that Aziraphale clearly wanted to go. He did try, generally, to let the angel have what he wanted, at least when what he wanted wasn’t likely to burn anything to the ground.

“Whose party is it?” he asked.

“Oh, one of the charities I donate to. Rented a hall up in Primrose Hill and is having a big swanky party on Halloween night.”

Crowley drummed his fingers on the edge of the couch. “Okay,” he said finally, “I could probably go. But I’m not wearing anything stupid, so don’t get any big ideas about us being dogs or flowers or anything like that.”

Aziraphale beamed at him and was clearly not trying to bounce. “Oh no, of course not, my dear! I’ll find us something just perfect, don’t you worry.”

Crowley felt a small seed of worry begin to take hold. “You have to run it by me before you purchase anything, angel. Seriously. Don’t do your usual on this one, okay?”

Aziraphale laughed. “All right, all right. I’ll gather some options for you tonight, just have to do some research first.”

++

They went out for sushi that night, and Aziraphale waited until Crowley had a couple of cups of sake and a few nigiri in him before he broached the subject again.

“So,” he said warmly, “I have a few thoughts on possible couple costumes for us.”

“Couple costumes?” Crowley said. “Why do we have to do that?”

Aziraphale looked a little hurt. “You don’t want to do a couples costume? I mean… we are a couple after all…”

Crowley rolled his eyes, but only a little. This was neither the battle nor the hill he wanted to go down on, no question. He raised a hand in defeat. “Okay, angel, I’m sorry – of course we can do a couples costume. It’ll be –” he squinted and made a face like he’d tasted a bitter lemon “—fun.”  

Aziraphale took a swig of his sake and looked at Crowley consideringly. Should he start with the easy ones to reject, or with the best ones? He wasn’t sure.

“Well?” Crowley said. “Lay ‘em on me. Don’t leave me hanging.”

“All right,” Aziraphale said, pulling out a small notebook that looked suspiciously similar to the sleep experiment notebook. “First up would be your classic superhero/sidekick combination. Something like, perhaps, Batman and Robin. I, of course, would be Batman, and you would be… well –”

“Could be fun, but I’m not going as Robin, angel. And why would you be Batman? I’m more his type.”

“I could be dark and brooding!” Aziraphale insisted.

“You’re not the type. You’d be better off wearing those ridiculous green booties and the tights,” Crowley said. “You’d look great!”

Aziraphale gave him a long, slow stare, then deliberately took out a small pen and crossed that one off the list.

“Next there are a variety of historical options. Henry VIII and Anne Bolyn?”

Crowley grinned. “Henry II and Thomas Becket would be a lot more fun. We could spend the whole evening trying to smite each other.”

Aziraphale sighed and crossed that one off. “You could be a white rose and I could be a red rose and we could be the war of the roses?” he said hopefully.

“Angel,” Crowley said, distinctly and clearly. “I thought I said no flowers. Did I not say no flowers?”

“Yes, of course.” Aziraphale made another note. “How about Romeo and Juliet?”

“You’re Juliet,” the demon countered quickly. “And only if we can play out the death scene.”

“You’re ridiculous,” the angel said. “Okay, how about Punch and Judy?”

“Would one of us get to hit the other with a large board?”

“Why,” the angel asked in despair, “are you so violent tonight?”

Crowley shrugged and stuffed another nigiri in his mouth. Aziraphale retaliated by gather most of the remaining salmon pieces onto his plate.

They went through many more entries on the list, Crowley mocking or adjusting each of them as needed, until they were left with very few options.

“Well perhaps we should go to a costume shop and look around,” Aziraphale said finally, in defeat.

“I’m game for that,” Crowley said. “We’ll go tomorrow.”

++

 The next day they went to an obscure historical costume shop in the theater district to look at possible outfits. Aziraphale tried to be on his nicest behavior, charming the proprietor, because he suspected Crowley was going to be quite a handful. As usual, he was correct in this assessment.

“What are you gentleman looking for?” the man asked them.

“Something amusing, I suppose,” Aziraphale said, “possibly historical or liter –”

“Nothing stupid,” Crowley cut in, “and no flowers. Something cool.”

The proprietor blinked, taking this in, and set off to see what he could find. He brought out a rack full of options a few minutes later and took them off in pairs to show them. Kings and princes, Hamlet and Ophelia, jokers and jesters, Romans, Egyptians, Medusa and Perseus (“I like the snakes on that one!” Crowley said), Vikings and gladiators – somehow nothing really caught their fancy.

“Well what might you be interested in?” the proprietor asked, nearing the end of his patience.

“Got any serial killers?” Crowley asked. “Or how about rock stars. Got any Sex Pistols? Sid and Nancy?”

Aziraphale sighed quietly.

 ++

“I think we made a good choice!” Crowley said brightly on the way home. “That was a brilliant last minute save that man made, there. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it myself!”

“It’s certainly unusual,” Aziraphale said. “I’m not sure how I feel about wearing that, to be honest.”

“Oh, come on, angel, it’s not that bad,” Crowley cajoled. “Wear it for me?”

Aziraphale huffed. “Whose idea was this whole party thing? I’m not at all sure we should even be going.”

Crowley reached over and took his hand without comment.

 ++

One week later, the night of the party arrived.

Crowley grinned at Aziraphale after dinner. “Are you ready for this?” he asked.

“Oh, dear, I don’t know –” Aziraphale said. “You’re going to have to help me with the spray paint, yes?”

“Angel, you don’t have to spray-paint yourself,” Crowley pointed out. “You’re an ethereal being with powers. Just do it!”

“That’s true,” Aziraphale said doubtfully. “I still think I’m going to look ridiculous.”

“You’re going to look hot, angel.” Crowley said, closing that conversation. “Now come on, let’s get changed.”

Crowley had a very easy time of it, slipping into his outfit easily and excitedly. He actually couldn’t believe he’d given the angel such a hard time about this – he was truly rather excited about this one. Aziraphale, however, was locked away in his closet making fussy noises as he tried to work out his half.

“You ok in there, angel?” Crowley called.

“Just fine! Out in a moment,” the angel called back.

Crowley wandered downstairs and carefully made himself a martini while he waited. Finally, after having time to slowly sip half of it, he heard Aziraphale making his way downstairs. He turned around and gasped at the vision before him.

Aziraphale was clad head to toe in a tight gold dress that clung to his form, and his skin was covered everywhere with a thick layer of gold to which he’d added just a bit of angelic glow so that he looked radiant on all surfaces. His hair had been smoothed out of its usual curl a bit and swooped down over his forehead, and if Crowley wasn’t mistaken he’d modified his corporation a bit to be a little more female-shaped – it nipped in a bit more at the waist and flared out becomingly below.

Goldfinger, Crowley thought. I knew there was a reason that movie was one of my favorites.

“Why do you get to be Bond and I have to be the Bond girl again?” the angel asked plaintively.

“Because! I’ve got the bullet marks in my car. Plus, I never get to wear a tuxedo,” Crowley said. “Besides, you kind of like it, admit it.”

“Of course I like it, you look amazing,” Aziraphale said, sincerely.

“I meant, you kind of like what you’re wearing.” Crowley grinned. “Don’t you? Just a little tiny bit?”

Aziraphale flapped a hand and tried to stifle a returning grin. “Oh stop. I suppose I do look better in gold than you do,” he said, preening a little. “And the skin tone is sort of fun. Haven’t dressed as a lady in quite some time!”

Crowley sauntered over and kissed him. “You look delectable, Ms. Galore. You’re going to be the hit of the party.”

The demon offered his arm most dashingly and Aziraphale took it, casting one last look in the mirror as they headed out. The things you do for love, he thought, casting a glance at his devastatingly handsome date in his well-cut tuxedo. He took a moment to make the heels he was wearing just the tiniest bit taller and magically more comfortable, and then straightened up.

He tossed his hair back and tried to assemble the best Bond-girl attitude he could manage. He hadn’t even shown Crowley yet the pretend pistol he’d strapped to his thigh. He’d save that for later, when they were dancing. He was certain that detail would bring the evening to a rather pleasant resolution.