Author: Carmarthen
Rating: PG, for very vague slashiness. Almost G. Only the barest implications of gayness.
Pairing: Crowley/Aziraphale, if you try really hard.
Summary: Crowley gets his ear pierced. Aziraphale hints. Crowley is oblivious.
Archive: Ask and ye shall most likely receive.
Disclaimer: Crowley and Aziraphale belong to Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett. I am not them, although I'd sell all my posessions for Neil Gaiman's talent. So the boys aren't mine, though should they ever be sold I'd be happy to bid for them.
Notes: See, on the Graham Ward cover, Crowley has an earring. And it's dangly and twee. And I don't know about UK earring conventions, but in the US, a guy with an earring in his right ear is usually gay. So, I developed a teensy-weensy obsession with the earring Crowley may or may not have. And thus this ficlet was born, whereupon it met up with the holiday challenge and became vaguely Christmas-y. I may continue it, I may not. Feedback is loved and cuddled; constuctive criticism is needed and cherished, as I am aware this is practically a script. I was too lazy to do all that exposition stuff.

Mirrors

"Er...Crowley...don't you think it's a bit--" Aziraphale broke off and waved one well-manicured hand vaguely about.

"A bit what?" Crowley asked, attempting unsuccessfully to look at his new earring out of the corner of his eye. It just made his head hurt, so he gave it up and looked at Aziraphale over his sunglasses instead.

"You know...poofy."

Crowley just stared at Aziraphale.

"I mean...it's all dangly. And it's a diamond," Aziraphale said, backing himself further into a metaphorical corner. "Not that there's anything wrong with that," he added as an afterthought.

Crowley kept staring.

"Crowley?" Aziraphale looked unnerved, Crowley noticed. How nice; at least the day wasn't entirely wasted. Unnerving a member of the Other Side was generally a proper demonic thing to do. Maybe he'd get a special mention. Or maybe the other demons would just laugh at him and then torture him slowly.

"Crowley?"

Right. Crowley absently waved his hand and held out the object that obediently appeared.

"What's this?" Aziraphale asked suspiciously, taking the object.

"A mirror," Crowley said. "Surely you've seen one before. They've been around nearly as long as we have. I mean, I know there are all those rules about vanity, but you look like you've combed your hair recently and a mirror generally helps with that." He stopped, aware that he was babbling. Aziraphale didn't seem to have noticed.

"Oh," Aziraphale said, nodding. "Right. A mirror." He glanced down at the mirror and then back at Crowley. "And you're giving me a mirror because..."

"Forget it!" Crowley thought the mirror back to nonexistence. "Trust subtlety to be wasted on you, angel."

"It's not that I don't like the earring," Aziraphale said hastily. "It's quite a nice earring, really. I've always envied your fashion sense a bit, you know."

Crowley stared at Aziraphale in disbelief again, then shook his head. "I'm going to go have a drink."

"But it's Christmas!" Aziraphale looked rather taken aback.

"And I'm a demon," Crowley said, shaking his head again. "A big drink."

After Crowley was safely out of the bookshop, Aziraphale vanished under the counter for a few moments, only to reappear triumphantly brandishing a bedraggled sprig of dried-up mistletoe that looked as if it had survived the Roman invasion of Britain. 1

Now, where he could conveniently hang it so that the customers wouldn't be likely to go under it?

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1 Which it might have, considering Aziraphale's hoarding tendencies.