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“What,” Aziraphale demands, “did you do?”
Crowley spreads faux-innocent hands, the knowing quirk of his mouth doing away with any doubt that might have remained as to whether or not he played a role in Gabriel’s abrupt about-face. “Who says I did anything?”
“Me.” Rolling his eyes, Aziraphale takes a third chocolate from Crowley’s opening day package. They’re quite good. “Gabriel and Sandalphon show up to tell me I’m being” — he wrinkles his nose — “promoted back upstairs.”
“‘Promotion.’” Crowley makes a face and air quotes.
“Yes, quite,” Aziraphale agrees. “Off they go to the tailor. You disappear. And then a couple hours later, surprise, they need me to keep battling evil on earth after all. ‘Change of plans.’ Something changed their mind.”
“Hmm.” Crowley shrugs, smirking. “The ways of the archangels are mysterious.”
“Right now,” Aziraphale returns pointedly, “the ways of demons are seeming a lot more mysterious to me.”
“Evil beyond comprehension,” Crowley says wisely. He’s having far too much fun with this. “Too wily for an angel like you to understand, I’m sure.”
“Oh, really.” Aziraphale snorts. ”Remind me just how many of your recent wile assignments I did for you?” Then he hesitates. His next point goes without saying, he suspects, but perhaps it’s worth saying anyway. “I do appreciate it, you know. I would have hated to have had to leave y… er, to leave the bookshop.”
“Ngh.” Crowley’s face takes a sudden turn into softness, and his voice with it. “Yeah. Yeah, I know that. Wouldn’t have liked it much myself, either. Incidentally.”
Aziraphale hands him one of the chocolates. Crowley pops it in his mouth.
They both chew, gazes locked. Crowley’s eyebrows creep upwards, waiting.
Aziraphale caves first. “Oh, go on, just tell the truth already. Don’t pretend you don’t want to brag about it. You’re proud of yourself.” He pauses, then adds, “As you should be. Probably. If I knew what you did, I could give you a proper wahoo for it.”
“Mmmm,” Crowley equivocates, confirming Aziraphale’s conviction. The demon always does enjoy trying to impress him with retellings of his schemes and exploits.
“Besides,” Aziraphale adds, “I’m curious.”
“Oh, well then. If you’re curious. Nothing more demonic than satisfying curiosity, after all. Just like old times, that is.” Crowley grins, clearly looking forward to telling the tale now he’s had his fun drawing out the suspense. “So, the tailor had these mannequins…”