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“Angeeeeel!” groaned Crowley, following his friend around the Bookshop, “It’s six already! You told me you’d be ready at five thirty!”
Aziraphale tutted, and took a book from the stack he was holding against his chest to put it on a shelf, seemingly at random. “I merely need a few more minutes to finish my reshelving, dear.”
Crowley rolled his eyes in exasperation. “It won’t be a few more minutes! I know what happens when you’re moving books around!” he snarled, shooting a burning glare at the volumes in his friend’s arms. “We will still be here in two hours, and we have reservations waiting for us!”
The angel turned with a pout. “Really, dear boy, no need to be so dramatic. I only need a moment.”
Crowley gaped. “I’m dramatic?” He spluttered.
His friend turned away and headed to another shelf, allowing himself a smug grin now that Crowley couldn’t see his face. “Why, yes. Getting so worked up over a few books is very unbecoming, dear.”
“I’m getting worked up about uss missing the ssspecial menu at the Ritz,” hissed the demon, following him closely.
“I did not know you were so interested in the Valentine’s menu, dearest,” said Aziraphale, trying his best not to chuckle as he put another book in its rightful place.
“I’m not! But I know you will feel sorry for missing their chocolate souffle with the raspberry melting heart!” snapped Crowley, stomping his foot.
The angel hummed thoughtfully. “It does sound scrummy. What else is on the menu?”
“You’ve read it twenty-six times this morning, you bastard! Don’t pretend you don’t know it by heart!”
Aziraphale nodded, considering, then sighed and put the books down on a side table near the staircase. “Oh, but I am not sure, my dear. The Ritz, again? It does not seem very exciting.”
Crowley snarled, and walked to him with murderous intend, backing him up against the wall. “You asked me to get these reservations weeks ago,” he growled, “and now you’re telling me you don’t want to go?”
Aziraphale huffed and tugged at his waistcoat, apparently unbothered by the demon’s threatening stance. “Oh, do not make it a thing, Crowley. There will be other Valentine’s days. I feel like staying in today,” he said firmly.
“Oh? Is that it? After all the trouble you’ve put me through with the restaurant, and the flowers, and the–the bloody chocolates! Now you want to stay in?” yelled Crowley.
“I did not ask for flowers, or chocolates! And if you are not happy with my decision, you can perfectly go to the restaurant by yourself!” snapped the angel, crossing his arms.
Crowley’s face contorted in anger. “Oh yeah? Maybe I will! And don’t expect me to come back here after! I’m going to party all night!”
“FINE!” shouted Aziraphale, waving his arm, “You know where the door is!”
As if to illustrate his sentence, the chiming of the bell echoed through the air, followed by the sound of the door closing in a hurry.
Crowley rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck. Aziraphale let out a loud sigh of relief. “Oh, I thought they would never leave.”
“I told you not to open on the fourteenth, angel. Last minute shopping makes them desperate,” chuckled the demon, picking up the first edition of The importance of being earnest that the wannabe customer had abandoned next to the till and making a face at it before handing it to his friend.
Aziraphale cradled the book in his arms like a baby*. “I thought you were exaggerating.”
*Crowley pouted at the display. Stupid Wilde.
“I’ve never exaggerated in my life,” declared the demon virtuously, flicking the sign on the door to “Closed”.
He raised an eyebrow with a grin. “Dinner, angel?”
Aziraphale wiggled happily, put his book down on top of the others, and offered his arm to his friend with a fond smile. “With pleasure, dearest.”
