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“I went to another performance of Hamlet the other day,” Aziraphale remarked, offhand.
Crowley shot the angel a sidelong look, and caught Aziraphale looking sideways at him as well. Their eyes flickered quickly apart — but not before both pairs of lips curved faintly upwards.
“Did you.” Crowley kept his voice studiously neutral.
“I did.”
“And how was it?”
“There was quite the impressive crowd in the audience.”
“Was there.”
“Yes. The show seems to have caught on quite a bit since last time we saw it.”
“Will must‘ve been happy about that,” Crowley said gruffly.
“He certainly seemed to be.” After a brief hesitation, Aziraphale added in a softer voice, “He wasn’t the only one, you know.”
“Nh.” Crowley cleared his throat, and managed to get out with almost-credible composure, “Good performance, then?”
“I expect it was.” Aziraphale paused again, then — before Crowley could interrupt with a followup question — went on, “Although it was a rather good thing I already knew the plot.”
Crowley made a vague questioning sound.
Aziraphale shot him another glance, there and away — eyes twinkling brightly enough that, as far as Crowley’s coherence was concerned, it was probably for the best that the angel’s gaze didn’t linger for too long. “I tried to forget you, you see. To pay proper attention to the actors. But under the circumstances, it wasn’t easy.”
“...Oh.” Crowley coughed, and was grateful for his sunglasses.[1] “Should I, uh. Apologize for distracting you from the play?”
“Absolutely not.” Aziraphale smiled at him… and bugger, this time the angel didn’t look away, and the glasses were useless; it was all Crowley could do to keep his solid flesh from melting under the power of that glorious smile. “I’ll have plenty of other chances, now.”
“Ah.”
“Besides, it was well worth the distraction.”