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It’s not so bad, everything tasting like dust, once you get used to it.
Having had six thousand years to get used to it, Crowley doesn’t really mind anymore. He does still enjoy eating, from time to time; even without flavor, after all, he can still appreciate good textures and smells, and there’s something satisfying about the feeling of a full stomach. Besides, eating is a useful social activity to have at your disposal when your best friend is a veritable gastronome.
He’s never eaten Aziraphale’s cooking before, though.
He all but chokes on the first bite of devil’s food cake. It’s mostly by virtue[1] of a hasty miracle that he avoids actually choking, his mouth and heart and entire sensory capacity exploding in fire, except it’s not fiery at all, just not dusty, it’s warm and squishy and…
“What did you put in this?” he demands, when he’s finished swallowing and can breathe again around the lingering taste of something luscious and nourishing that can only be described as a kind of sweetness.
“I did exactly what the recipe called for. Followed it to the letter.” Aziraphale frowns, nibbling at his own slice. “It seems fine to me. Is there something wrong with it?”
“No! Nothing wrong.” It’s just that something is unexpectedly, bizarrely, confusingly, and deliciously right. “One second.” Crowley snaps his fingers, and a bag of crisps from the cupboard appears on the table. He pops one into his mouth.
It tastes exactly like it always does… which is to say, like nothing at all. A pleasurable crunch, but that’s it.
“Crowley?” Aziraphale is staring at him in (entirely understandable) bafflement.
“The cake’s terrific,” Crowley reassures him, automatically but also honestly. “You did a great job. Best I’ve ever had.” And that’s honest, too.
Putting the crisps aside, he takes another bite of cake… and the feeling bursts on his tongue and in his chest all over again. He’s more prepared this time, so his breathing is not impeded, and he’s able to chew and swallow without mishap. But the infusion of rich, sweet zest is at least as strong and emotion-inducing as it was the first time.
His heart feels fuzzy. Did flavor used to make his heart feel fuzzy? And melty too. Granted, last time was a while ago. But he doesn’t remember this being a thing back in the old days.
Oh well. Whatever it is about this cake, if Aziraphale made it it must be safe. And it is good. Crowley pushes his plate across the table and grins at the still-perplexed angel. “Can I have another piece?”
Aziraphale squints at him, then pinches the bridge of his nose, shrugs, and picks up the knife to cut them both more cake.[2]
~ ~ ~
Later on, Crowley slips into the kitchen and finds the cookbook Aziraphale used. Conveniently, the devil’s food cake page is already flagged with a bookmark, so he flips to the right recipe easily.
He skims the list of ingredients. It’s all pretty standard stuff, nothing unusual. Flour, sugar, cocoa powder, baking soda…
His eyes snag on the final line: Plus lots of love!
Bless it. I did exactly what the recipe called for. Followed it to the letter.
Trust Aziraphale to take everything literally. And to go all out on it, too. Crowley’s heart throbs in sympathy with his tongue’s memory. It’s not an unpleasant kind of throbbing.
Carefully, making sure to leave the page marked, he closes the cookbook again and returns it to the shelf.
He makes a mental note to encourage Aziraphale to do some more cooking.