Depth of Beauty - Good Omens Fic
New Good Omens fic - Ineffable Wives! Written for @bingokisses prompt: Air Kiss and Braiding Hair.
Aziraphale needs a change. She wishes she felt beautiful, confident - more like her wife.
Crowley, though, sees the beauty within her. She just wishes Aziraphale could see the same.
--
Aziraphale leaned towards the mirror, thick black pencil trembling in her unsteady grip. Already her eyes were framed in carefully blended blacks and greys and golds, but they didn’t look smokey so much as…smudgy. And rather reminiscent of a racoon.
How did Crowley do this? Every time Aziraphale tried, the pencil tugged uncomfortably at her eyelid and left a dark, uneven blotch, a stuttering line much thicker on one eye than the other.
She glared at the mirror, but it was no good. She couldn’t miracle the cosmetics on unless she understood how they worked and she…didn’t. The last time Aziraphale had made her face up, the fashion had been for thick white paint and large red circles on the cheeks, and that had been trial enough. But this?
She sighed. Right. Lipstick.
Aziraphale selected a tube and twisted the bottom – oh, my. That was very red. But she was sure she’d seen Crowley wear it before, so that must be right.
Now what? She pursed her lips as if kissing the air and smeared the lipstick across her bottom lip—
A loud banging on the door. “Are you finished, Angel? It’s been almost an hour!”
“N-nearly!” She turned back to the mirror and – oh, bugger, there was a bright red line from the corner of her mouth all the way up to her cheekbone. Aziraphale grabbed a towel and tried to scrub the entire mess off, but it merely smeared, turning the entire bottom half of her face pink as lipstick, powders, and liquids all blended into paste.
Could…more foundation fix this? Or perhaps that’s what the concealer was for? She searched through the jumble of supplies, scattering them across the bathroom counter – a bottle of Crowley’s perfume teetered, toppled, and shattered on the tile floor.
“Blast!”
“Aziraphale?”
“No! I – I have this under control.” She started sweeping the glass shards into a pile by hand, planning to miracle them whole, but the sharp end sliced her finger, drawing out a bead of lipstick-red blood.
It was barely any pain at all, but of course Crowley sensed it immediately.
“I’m coming in.”
“Don’t—”
The bathroom door flew open and there – framed against the backdrop of their new bedroom – stood Crowley, tight black dress showing off every curve she could eke from her narrow frame, thick red curls framing a face made even more glamorous by dramatic makeup. One perfect eyebrow arched. “I see you’ve changed.”
“Yes, well.” Aziraphale stood up, tugging at her new dress. She’d thought it very fetching in the shop, belted tartan with wide lapels, short skirt and sleeves, neckline a little daring. But compared to Crowley, she looked…dull, uninspired. Frumpy, even, with the skirt well below her knees. “I’ve been wanting to…experiment a little…”
“You have? Since when?”
“Ah. Well. A month or so. Since…since we moved.” Aziraphale waved her hand vaguely to indicate the entire cottage. “I thought it might be nice to – to try something and, well, since it’s our first night out on the town, it seemed as good a time…” She tugged at her newly-lengthened hair. The plan had been for shoulder-length curls, tighter than Crowley’s, but as they’d grown, they’d simply become more unruly, transforming into a frizzy, tangled mess. A disaster. A nightmare.
This was why it was better not to try.
Well, that was easy enough to fix. One snap of her fingers would undo the night’s work, restore her usual appearance. But as she raised her hand, Crowley stepped quickly next to her, heels clacking sharply on the tile floor. Fingers tipped with red nails sharp as daggers gently enveloped Aziraphale’s hand, while Crowley’s other arm slid around her waist, as if they were about to dance.
“Angel. You look beautiful.”
She huffed. “Stop it. This is hardly the time for flattery.”
“You do.” Crowley pressed her lips to Aziraphale’s forehead, which must have been disgusting with blended oils and powders, but she didn’t react. “Would I lie to you?”
“Hmph. You say you don’t, but that could be a lie, too. I know how wily you are.” But Aziraphale leaned into the embrace, sliding her hands up Crowley’s back and finding quite a lot of exposed skin. Aziraphale really shouldn’t even have bothered with this silly outfit.
Crowley’s now-free hand settled into Aziraphale’s hair, nails gently scratching at her scalp. “You are always beautiful. You are,” she added before Aziraphale could object.
Sighing, Aziraphale stepped back to look up at her wife, clasping her hands. “Thank you, my dear. But I think we can agree that this is one experiment that rather failed? Or do you honestly think I can go out like this?”
Crowley pursed her lips, narrowing her eyes until the long black lashes concealed them as completely as her glasses once did. “Well...a few adjustments might be in order. Just a few. Will you let me try?”
What did she have to lose? Aziraphale rose up on her toes and pecked the corner of Crowley’s mouth, carefully, to avoid smudging the bright red lipstick. “If you think it will do any good.”
Read the rest on AO3!
