Being a being whose physical manifestation was not limited by humanly needs, Crowley and Aziraphale could choose to present themselves in any way they wanted, if they wanted so. This allowed them to blend in unnoticed amongst humans. However, Aziraphale rather liked the form he chose, so he rarely did any drastic transformation to himself.
Aziraphale knew that Crowley rather liked, even enjoyed, to change their appearance on a whim. Sometimes they presented themself as a male, sometimes as a female. Of course, Aziraphale found nothing wrong with this, and enjoyed whatever form Crowley chose to present themself as.
Roughly a month after the Apocalypse that never happened, Crowley walked into the Ritz for their weekly lunch date, in twelve-centimeters heels and flaming-red hair that cascaded beautifully down her neck. She looked absolutely stunning in her black-and-red dress and Aziraphale was stunned beyond words.
“Waiting long?” Crowley asked and Aziraphale’s eyes immediately focused on her dark red lips. Crowley didn’t wait for his answer, though, and let out sensuous chuckle as the maître d’ approached them both.
“Mr. and Mrs…” the maître d’s eyes shifted from Crowley to Aziraphale.
“Fell. We, uh, booked a table?” Aziraphale said, straightening himself up just as Crowley linked her arms to his. Aziraphale stiffened briefly, before placing his hand on top of hers.
“Of course. Please, follow me”, the maître d’ guided them into the restaurant.
“You never told me you’re going to show up like this”, Aziraphale whispered, only loud enough for Crowley to hear. “It makes me feel underdressed.”
“You wear a coat and a bowtie, angel. I don’t think you can be underdressed in a coat and a bowtie”, Crowley returned with a small smile.
“I have standards , my dear. Had I known you all dressed up for the occasion, I would at least attempt to do the same”, Aziraphale lamented. Crowley let out another sensuous chuckle.
Once they arrived on their table, Crowley pulled out a chair for Aziraphale, before sitting down herself, and the maître d’ left, looking confused.
“Oh! I forgot, I should be the one to pull out a chair for you, shouldn’t I?” Aziraphale turned from the confused maître d’ to the lady in front of him, flustering.
“Fuck human rules”, Crowley said easily before ordering some red wine for both of them and Aziraphale ordering some food.
While they dined and wined, Aziraphale found himself torn between paying attention to the food in front of him or the beautiful lady sitting next to him.
Crowley really looked good in black-and-red.
Aziraphale stared at her own reflection in the mirror, which showed her corporeal form. She found that she rather liked this form; it was nice and soft, and if she could say it without leaning towards vanity, her form was also aesthetically pleasing.
But she wasn’t admiring the form she chose now. No, rather she was admiring the dress she wore. It was white-and-gold and it stretched beautifully to accommodate her plump figure. The delicate golden filigree printing decorated the frontside of it and along the neckline.
With a snap of her perfectly manicured fingers, her hair grew out and tied itself back into a simple braid. Another snap, a pair of angel wing earrings materialized themselves on her ears. Again, Aziraphale admired herself in the mirror, before she was sure nothing was amiss.
Oh, right, the makeup.
Normally, she would rather apply the makeup manually, but she knew that Crowley would come in his Bentley any moment now. Aziraphale clicked her tongue, before snapping her finger for the third time. Once her makeup was done, she sprayed some cologne onto herself, just as she heard the screech of tires outside her shop.
“Aziraphale?” Aziraphale heard Crowley’s voice entering the shop.
“In the back!” Aziraphale called back. Slowly, Aziraphale moved out of her little nook to greet Crowley.
Crowley’s eyes finally found her figure, and while Aziraphale couldn’t see his eyes thanks to those damned sunglasses, she knew that Crowley was eyeing her from head to heels. Aziraphale held herself back from preening under his gaze—she wasn’t vain, oh dear no.
“Nice dress. It suits you”, Crowley’s voice was soft when he said it, and Aziraphale smiled brightly at the compliment. “Is that a new cologne?”
“It is, yes”, Aziraphale answered, still beaming.
“Shall we go?” Crowley asked, offering the crook of his arm. Aziraphale took it, before the two of them set off to get into the Bentley.