'What?' Crowley twists to frown down at Aziraphale, and then, 'Wait, what?' but it's too late by this point to lodge any objections, as Aziraphale's augmented the armchair, Crowley's toppled awkwardly sideways with his wings up and flared to avoid getting knocked about, and Melanie's climbed up to join them. Crowley blows air between his lips. Well. Isn't this just bloody adorable. They're a right Hallmark card, the three of them.
Melanie's perched in Aziraphale's lap like there's nowhere else she'd rather be in the world, the scant weight of her feet the barest pressure against Crowley's leg. And yet somehow, for all he's perfectly aware that this is RIDICULOUS and Aziraphale is a bloody sentimentalist, Crowley doesn't get up. He shifts around a bit until he can find a comfortable way to sit with his wings out, and with his back to the arm of the chair, one wing still spread out behind Aziraphale like a feathery cloak.
The kid is gazing at him with eyes practically glowing, and he sighs, giving her a little look. 'Yeah, go on, then.'
If nothing else, he can admit that it's nice to be admired. Even if Melanie's a ridiculously easy sell.
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Melanie's perched in Aziraphale's lap like there's nowhere else she'd rather be in the world, the scant weight of her feet the barest pressure against Crowley's leg. And yet somehow, for all he's perfectly aware that this is RIDICULOUS and Aziraphale is a bloody sentimentalist, Crowley doesn't get up. He shifts around a bit until he can find a comfortable way to sit with his wings out, and with his back to the arm of the chair, one wing still spread out behind Aziraphale like a feathery cloak.
The kid is gazing at him with eyes practically glowing, and he sighs, giving her a little look. 'Yeah, go on, then.'
If nothing else, he can admit that it's nice to be admired. Even if Melanie's a ridiculously easy sell.