"Garden?" The way the man says it, all smooth and almost deep, makes Crowley's dick somehow even harder. "Down there. Third row." With that, he turns and goes back to...wherever it was he came from. Crowley does his best to not stare at his plump arse.
He of course fails spectacularly.

Aziraphale hums in agreement. "Indeed they do not, and no matter how lovely this airport is, it can still get rather crowded later in the day." He gathers up their trash and tosses it, then returns to the table. Crowley's already standing, and he takes one last slug of coffee.

It's Keith David's voice, it is an aphrodisiac

"Well, I love you too." Aziraphale says, and Crowley isn't even surprised that he's spoken that part out loud. Hell, if he didn't think it would make Aziraphale sink down in his chair in either laughter or embarrassment, Crowley would climb up on the table and shout it for the whole cafe to hear.

"Are you capable of speech, or did someone steal your tongue?" The man asks, looking over at the cat, who just blinks at him. "You were supposed to be guarding the door." The cat just flicks his tail. "Don't give me that." He turns back to Crowley. "Well, what do you want?"

It really is, so many great songs

"I like pears"

The man is, well, there's no other way of putting it... *gorgeous.* He's about a head shorter than Crowley, and much plumper, dressed in what looks like clothes that were in fashion for one week in the late 1800s. He's got hair so blond it's almost white, and he's wearing honest to god spectacles.

Crowley bites back a grin as Aziraphale rants about the inferior tastes of Americans, the fact that none of them know how to make decent tea, let alone coffee, and the obscene amount of sugar the chains put in their so called 'flavored' coffees. "...better off drinking straight syrup...."

"It's...different. But a very good different." He's quick to amend. He takes another sip. "Yeah, this is really good. Pretty far removed from Starbucks." Aziraphale looks as if it physically pains him to hear the name.
"Do not get me started on that inferior bean water."

"Uh...hi?" Crowley's good with animals, but this cat looks like it hates everything and everyone. "Um...hello?" He calls out to the air. "I just want to..."
"We're closed." The posh voice behind him makes him shriek and jump three feet in the air. "How did you get in?"

Crowley blushes before taking a sip of the coffee. He's never been with someone that didn't want to "improve" him, he thinks to himself. Aziraphale doesn't want him to change, doesn't want him to act in a certain way. It's a heady, scary, exhilarating feeling.

So he goes to the bookshop, which is dark and spooky from the outside but surprisingly homey inside, the shelves-all wooden- lined with all sorts of books.

Same I want to put him in a blanket

Wait, you watch Hazbin too?!! How did I not know this!

Favorite characters: Alastor, Lucifer, Emily
Favorite Ships: Radioapple, Chaggie, Radiojoy

"I just meant..." Aziraphale starts to explain, but Crowley's smile stops him.
"I know what you mean. Sometimes true beauty can only be found in something that's a bit rough around the edges." Aziraphale nods in relief.