"You know angel," Crowley mutters, slinking forward to join him on his side of the room, "Dressed like that, you're just asking for trouble."

Crowley's fingers traced teasingly over his arm and down the length of it to his hand, where they stole the wine bottle from his grip, bringing it to their lips with a sly grin. After taking another sip, their head tilts to face Aziraphale, pressing the bottle back into his arms. 

"You really should know better."