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“What,” a voice hissed into Aziraphale’s ear, “is everyone doing?”
Aziraphale yelped at the unexpected voice, then turned, glaring at the demon cackling behind him. “Oh, it’s you.”
“Well spotted."
“Was that really necessary? You could have just said hello."
“Nah.” Crowley smirked. “Wasn’t necessary. But it was fun.”
“Honestly, Crowley.” Aziraphale sighed. "Sometimes I despair of you."
“Only sometimes?”
“Most of the time.”
“Clearly I’m not trying hard enough, if it’s not all of the time.”
Aziraphale snorted. “You're ridiculous.”
“Bringing an angel to the brink of despair, that’s got to earn a commendation,” Crowley mused.
“Oh, hush.”
Crowley laughed. “Fine. Anyway, what’s going on here? I’ve been to this market plenty of times before, and it’s never been like this. All this… um. Cavorting. Crowds. And ribbons and whatnot."
Aziraphale huffed. "I’ve half a mind not to tell you at all now. Let that teach you a lesson about sneaking up on angels.”
“If you don’t tell me I’ll just have to go talk to one of these humans and ask them instead,” Crowley threatened. “And who knows what sort of evil influence I might work on them, if I have to do that."
"Yes, you might tempt them into buying you a bottle of something drinkable, if they can afford it."
“Well, I might!”
"What utter horror.”
“On the other hand,” Crowley said reflectively, “I might buy them a bottle of something drinkable instead.”
“Would you.”
“Sure I would. That is, if someone were so kind and virtuous as to explain to a poor traveling stranger what’s going on here."
“A poor, traveling stranger,” Aziraphale quoted drily.
“Yup.”
“No doubt.”
“I did see something that seemed very drinkable at one of the stalls as I was on my way, you know. Very drinkable. It would be a real shame if I didn’t find someone to share some of it with later.”
“Ah. Well.” Aziraphale pretended to consider… as if there had ever been any real doubt that he’d answer Crowley’s question eventually, regardless of whether there was anything in it for him. “I suppose it would befit an angel to lend assistance to a poor traveling stranger. When you put it that way.”
“Would befit an angel. Yep. Definitely.”
Aziraphale rolled his eyes, fondly. “They’re a-Maying, Crowley.”
“They’re what?”
“A-Maying.”
“I thought that’s what you said. What exactly are they a-Maying about?”
“They’re celebrating May Day! It’s a holiday, Crowley. A holiday to celebrate the arrival of springtime.”
“A holiday?” Crowley looked suddenly nervous. “Should I not be here? Are any of your lot going to be around?”
“No, no, not that kind of holiday.”
“Oh, good.”
“And I’m the only angel here.” Aziraphale paused. “At least, I would assume so. I would be surprised if anyone else showed up today. It doesn’t exactly strike me as Gabriel’s scene.”
“Oh. Good.” Crowley relaxed. “Yeah, I see what you mean about that. Too much, er. Gross matter stuff.”
“Exactly. But, anyhow. The humans, they spin and dance around that big pole in the middle — they’ll be starting that soon, I think — and they sing, and… well, if you wait a bit longer, you’ll get to see it all for yourself. It’s all quite lovely.”
“Oh?”
“I even hear tell,” Aziraphale continued in an undertone, borrowing a bit of the tempting tone that he’d been working on polishing up for purposes of the Arrangement, “many of them like to get up to some rather scandalous activities as well. So you might pick up some extra points if you hang around in the area long enough.”
“Hmm.” It was Crowley’s turn to faux-consider the proposition… as if he hadn’t just very clearly sought Aziraphale out in the middle of a marketplace, which made the answer to the question as to whether or not he wanted to be there rather obvious.
“And,” Aziraphale added, “ I found some quite promising seeing drinkable substances myself. It would be interesting to compare notes with someone.”
Crowley drew out the moment a second longer, then grinned. “Guess I could stick around a bit. Got nothing better on my schedule.”
“Excellent.” Aziraphale beamed as an idea occurred to him. “You could dance around the maypole!”
“...You could dance around the maypole.”
“I most certainly could not. Angels don’t dance. Demons, on the other hand, as I distinctly remember you telling me…”
“Demons don’t dance around maypoles.”
“Ah, well. If you insist. It was just a thought. You’d look lovely doing it, I should think.”
“Ngk.”
“But. “Aziraphale shrugged. “Then I suppose we’re back to the drinkables.”
“There are worse things to be back to.”
“True… oh, look! They’re starting! See?”
And they stood in the market square and talked on, inconspicuous among the masses, as all around them the village celebrated spring, and life, and love.