[ coat ]
nonsexual acts of dominance | @savntered | accepting
[ coat ] your muse holds mine’s coat out for them while they put it on .
“…honestly, Crowley, I’m just not sure about these new-age musicals that keep popping up on Drury Lane lately. That last one was written by an American, you know, and I just don’t see how that—”
Aziraphale is mid-ramble as he turns to the demon, hands absently patting at his waistcoat pockets (tickets? where were the tickets?), when the sight of Crowley holding his cream-colored long coat gives him pause. His companion grasps the overcoat by the lapels, folding it open in what can only be an invitation to step into the garment. It is a courtesy rarely seen in this modern age, particularly with the decline of personal valets. And It’s certainly something Aziraphale has never seen coming from a Demon.
“…..oh.” He says, voice faint with surprise. The angel smiles slightly, a touch of warmth on his cheeks making his round face seem luminous. “…why, thank you my dear.” He steps closer and tucks a shoulder into the coat, shrugging it on carefully. As luck would have it, the theatre tickets are sat waiting in the inside pocket.








