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"Do you have anything planned for Saturday night?” Aziraphale had asked the previous day.
“Nah. Nothing specific.” Crowley’s only essential plans for the weekend involved spending time with Aziraphale. “We could go somewhere?”
“I could get us tickets to see something.”
“Sounds great. Go for it.”
Crowley grinned in anticipation of whatever Aziraphale had planned — the details didn’t matter; he’d even go so far as to watch a Shakespearean tragedy if that was what the angel really wanted — and then returned to the chaos he was currently busy fomenting on his favorite website.
(Not that Tumblr users were particularly in need of his help in the area of chaos. The nickname of “Hellsite” hadn’t even been his idea, but he’d gotten a commendation for it anyway.)
* * *
Aziraphale was beaming as he handed the envelope to Crowley. “We’re going to the cinema,” he announced.
“Cool.” Crowley took the envelope automatically, noting the Prince Charles Cinema logo. “What are we going to be watching?”
“That movie you’ve been so interested in lately.”
“Which movie?”
“The one about the mafia, of course.”
“...What?”
“You know. You’ve been talking about it practically every day. With the homereoticism, and the clocks.”
“What,” said Crowley again, in heartfelt bafflement. Slowly, he opened the envelope and withdrew its contents.
And stared at the twin tickets, bearing the date, time, screen, and — most interestingly — the name of the film being shown Saturday evening.
He blinked, deliberately, once, then a second time. The printed ticket information remained the same.
“Angel,” he said at last. “You… bought us tickets to see Goncharov?”
“I thought it might be nice to experience it together, since you liked it so much. You’ve seen most of my favorite plays, after all.” Aziraphale smiled. “I was just hoping there might be a showing near us… and there it was!”
“Miraculous,” Crowley murmured.
“Yes, well.” Aziraphale looked quite pleased with himself. Then, perhaps noticing the total discombobulation on the demon’s face, he hesitated. “You… you do want to go, yes? Because we certainly don’t have to if…”
“Of course I want to go,” Crowley interrupted firmly, and was rewarded by seeing the angel’s eyes light up again. “Trust me, Aziraphale, I can’t wait to see Goncharov with you.”
It wasn’t every day you got an invitation to see a nonexistent film with the love of your life. He certainly wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity.