My brave and noble stand against fanfic underwear:

[louiselux]

This is a silly fic, and I can't even blame it on cold medicine because I wrote it last week, although in my defence I did finish it today. No silk boxers (or leather thongs) were harmed in the writing of this fic, or are, indeed, in it.

Aziraphale, Crowley and angelic underwear:


Brief Encounter


Aziraphale knew that his underpants were morally irreproachable, even if Crowley was looking at them askance.

'What?' he said, folding his arms nervously.

'Nothing. It's just,' and Aziraphale could see that he was biting back laughter, 'they're exactly the sort of underpants I'd expect an angel to wear.'

Make-over shows really were the devil's work, and nothing proved that more than the sudden disappearance of his own clothing as they'd sat on Crowley's settee, viewing one of Crowley's more recent triumphs, daytime television. He'd watched nonplussed as some poor female had been herded round shops and forced to buy clothes she obviously hated, the end result making her look far worse than she had at the start of the program.

'I assume that the point of all this was to make her look better?' he'd asked, not quite sure of the premise.

Crowley had laughed heartlessly, and that was when he'd noticed the nasty gleam in the demon's eye. Running hadn't worked. Crowley has caught him by the leg as soon as he'd stood up, and now here he was, wearing nothing but his underwear and feeling very chilly, not to mention wary. He pulled a cushion over his lap.

'I'm not wearing anything you create for me,' he said. 'Give me my clothes back. Now.'

'Come on. Just one outfit. You always wear the same thing, and it's all at least 40 years out of date.'

Crowley yanked at the cushion. Aziraphale hung onto it with a death grip.

'Get off. I said no. Really, Crowley. I mean it!'

'Where do you get those from anyhow?' Crowley asked, ignoring him and peering into Aziraphale's lap. He looked up, his lips quivering. 'Are they standard angel issue? Or did you choose them yourself? They're very, er, you.'

Obviously Crowley couldn't hide his merriment any longer. Mocking laughter rang in Aziraphale's ears and he scowled. This was what came of letting demons run round with a licence to fashion garments from firmament. They just didn't understand concepts like comfort and the ability to withstand the hot wash. There was nothing at all laughable about his underwear, he was certain of it. They were a very popular style at his gentleman's outfitters. He collected his underpants in discreet bundles every so often, and they were always exactly the same. Plain white cotton Y-fronts*, double-stitched on the seams for extra strength, with a sturdy gusset and a firmly elasticated waistband. He didn't use the Y-front bit very often, but it was nice to have the option. He liked his underwear. They were comfortable, dependable, the kind of underpants that wouldn’t let you down. When worn they imparted a pleasing sense of security, especially when he tucked his vest into them.

Crowley was still sniggering, and Aziraphale was increasingly tempted to commit an act of violence on the demon's person. Instead, with a gesture, he stood up. He'd see how the demon liked it. Crowley's suit appeared in the middle of the rug, neatly folded. Crowley remained on the settee, suddenly wide-eyed and a lot less cheerful.

'Bastard!' Crowley said in surprise, then leapt up.

It was Aziraphale's turn to snigger. Crowley looked furious. His knickers were a bit small. And tight. And they appeared to be made of snakeskin. They looked very demonic. He did try not to laugh, but didn't put too much effort into it.

'Did you choose them yourself, or are they standard demon issue?' he said in innocent tones. 'Still want to carry on with the make-over, do you?'

Crowley flushed red, while simultaneously trying to look as nonchalant as possible. He failed horribly and Aziraphale found the sight very gratifying. Pressing his advantage, he drew himself up, and despite his lack of clothes, Aziraphale was sure that he could still cut an angelic pose when he needed to, even if he was down to just his underwear. It was all in the bearing.

'All right, all right, have your sodding clothes back. Bloody angels, can't take a joke,' Crowley muttered, moving his fingers.

Aziraphale felt a lot warmer once he was back into his nice wool suit. He blinked and Crowley was restored back into his clothes, the same as before. Except for one small detail.

'Hey! What-- ?'

Crowley untucked his shirt in a hurry and pulled the waistband of his trousers out. He peered down, then looked up at Aziraphale, his eyes slitted menacingly.

Aziraphale smiled to himself and backed away quickly. Crowley would be so much more comfortable in Y-fronts. Black ones, of course.



*Aziraphale's underpants, also known in the US as 'tightie whities'. Am I right?

Comments

[louiselux.livejournal.com]

For me, the mental images of too-small snakeskin undies is becoming rather painful. But I do love to picture Aziraphale in his sturdy cotton Y-fronts, posing angelically. *g*