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“Arnold’s”
“Backroom”
“Goldstone’s”
“Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death”
“Herbalist”
Italian
Lucky Snake
Magic Shop
“Marguerite’s”
Mr Coffee…
Aziraphale had been diligently reviewing his checklist when a whistle cut through his concentration. He looked up. A familiar, bespectacled face peeked out from behind the railing at Marguerite’s.
Ah! Crowley. So that’s where he had splintered off to. Aziraphale had expected to find him back at the shop or perhaps taking the Bentley for a drive. But no, here he was, sitting by himself at a table… a table for two. A table for two with a red rose. Hmm.
It briefly occurred to Aziraphale that perhaps Crowley was whistling for someone else. He quickly looked around to see if there was anyone else answering Crowley’s call. All he saw were the typical passersby, going about their day. Aziraphale exhaled a sigh of relief before a twinge of embarrassment warmed his cheeks. He was being silly. Even if Crowley was waiting for someone else, it was nothing to be jealous over. He and Crowley are partners, as they had proven time and time again. No other relationship, mortal or otherwise, would change that. (Still, he hastened his pace towards Crowley’s table, just in case.)
As he neared, Aziraphale noted that Crowley was enjoying a bottle of a very fine vintage. A delicious choice no doubt, but an odd one. Crowley was not typically one for drinking alone in public. Unless he didn’t intend to be drinking alone. Aziraphale swatted the nagging thought away as he reached the table.
Crowley was seated with his legs crossed and a hand placed protectively over the top of his wine glass. His demeanor was radiating with apathy, but Aziraphale approached, the demon perked up ever so slightly. He began to swirl the wine in his glass as he met Aziraphale’s gaze. “D’you want a glass?” Crowley asked, brow raised.
Aziraphale paused to consider. He should say no. Not only was it the middle of the day, but he was currently working. It was imperative that he convinced as many members of the Whickber Street Traders and Shopkeepers Association to be in attendance tonight as possible. It wouldn't be a ball without plenty of guests. Although...
His eyes lowered to his clipboard. About eighty percent of the page was crossed off. Surely eighty percent of the association was enough to effectively create an Austen-esque ambiance. Plus, it had been a long day. Perhaps it was time for a little break. In fact, he realized with a swallow, he was quite parched. It was decided then.
Aziraphale looked back up to see that a second glass of wine had already been placed in front of him. He gave a quiet smile. A long time ago, he would have considered Crowley plying him with wine as a “temptation”. He’s grateful to be far from those times now. This was simply an act of kindness, as usual.
“Thank you,” Aziraphale chimed with a nod, pulling out a chair for himself. He sunk into the seat. My, his legs certainly were exhausted. It was remarkable how tired these corporations could become after only a few hours of walking about.
Aziraphale lifted the glass to his nose. Scrumptious. The scent alone was already doing wonders for his aching body. Now, the only thing plaguing him was his mind. The day had been quite draining mentally as well as physically. He had to part with several of his precious books in order to convince some shopkeepers to attend tonight's meeting. Decades without needing to sell a book, and here he was just giving them away!
He felt himself growing irritated at the thought, so he took a sip of wine to clear his mind. Immediately, the rich flavor flooded his palate. A perfect 1938 rouge. Aziraphale exhaled with a satisfied sigh, to which Crowley gave a near imperceptible smile. The demon drank from his own cup before languidly spreading out in his chair. He threw an arm over the back of the seat and lazily stretched his legs out from under the table.
Having assumed their typical positions, the pair relaxed into a few moments of comfortable silence. Aziraphale took in the scene around him. It really was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, the restaurant was abuzz with pleasant conversation, and best of all, Crowley was happy. Aziraphale could feel the love that was radiating from all around them. He had missed this. It felt like quite some time since he and Crowley had dined out together. Perhaps that had been unconsciously adding to his stress. Well, all had been righted again. Aziraphale hummed contentedly as he allowed the love of this moment to wash over him.
After some time, Crowley pulled himself into an upright sitting position. “D’you know,” Crowley started. His expression and tone were flat, but his fingers began to nervously dance along the rim of his glass. “I, eh, was talking to Nina earlier.”
“Oh?” Aziraphale asked, taking another sip.
“Yep.” Crowley continued, “‘was talking to Nina, and she implied that we were partners.”
Aziraphale looked up from his wine before placing the glass back on the table. “Well, that’s not too surprising, is it?” he said with a slightly confused smile, “We are partners, are we not?” He felt a little hurt that this concept would be shocking to the demon. Crowley himself had described themselves as a pair for quite a long time.
“No, no, no.” Crowley said, shaking his head. He leaned forward to place both of his elbows on the table. “No,” he clarified once more, cutting a hand through the air for emphasis.
“She was implying that you and I were a couple. Like a… romantic couple.” Crowley belched out the word “romantic” as if he couldn’t stand the taste of it in his mouth.
“Oh,” Aziraphale said quietly. “I see.” This was the second time in the last several days that someone had implied that he and Crowley were courting. The demon Shax had said the same thing after he had accidentally invited her into the Bentley. It felt odd to know that demons gossiped about him. Though, gossiping was probably something demons did best.1
Aziraphale flattened his hands over his thighs as he considered how best to respond. He decided to go with, “And what did you say?”
“Well…” Crowley tilted his head from side to side with a pained expression. “Eh… nothing really. I just said that we’d known each other a long time. A really long time.” He inhaled through his nose, then paused.
“And?”
“And,” he exhaled. “And she said… she said that we give her hope!” Crowley popped the "p" in "hope," then looked at Aziraphale with a small, closed-mouth smile.
Aziraphale returned the smile, but his brow furrowed with confusion. “Well, that’s nice, but whatever did she mean by that?”
Crowley leant back into his usual lounging position. “She said that seeing us as a happy, er, couple, gave her hope that she could find a happy relationship too.”
“Oh!” Aziraphale’s face lit up. “And she can find a happy relationship! With Maggie! This is splendid, Crowley! What did she say next?”
“Well, nothing.”
“Nothing?” Aziraphale asked with a few blinks.
“Yeah, nothing. Just went back to her shop. But that’s good, eh? Nina’s feeling hopeful, we do your Jane Austen thing, Maggie and Nina fall in love," he clapped his hands to accentuate his point. "Sorted.”
“There is one slight hitch to that plan, Crowley.”
“What?”
Aziraphale did his best to maintain a neutral tone. “We are not a romantic couple,” he said matter-of-factly.
Once or twice2, Aziraphale had hoped that he and Crowley could be a romantic couple. They were closer than most beings in existence, after all. He and Crowley had saved each other more times than he could count. The pair had spent centuries upon centuries creating, exploring, and enjoying this world together. They had even saved this world together! The transition from partners and romantic partners would have been a simple one - except for one crucial fact. Demons could not love.
As every Angel knew, demons were only capable of feeling, causing, and spreading evil. Except for Crowley, of course. Crowley was different from all other demons. Crowley cared. He cared for plants, animals, humanity, his car… Aziraphale had no doubt that Crowley cared for him as well.
Even so, caring was not the same as loving. Aziraphale had come to terms with that, over the millennia. He was willing to accept their partnership for what it was: an Angel that loved a Demon and a Demon that cared for an Angel. He was happy with that, he reminded himself. His hands soothed comforting circles over his thighs. He has had to keep reminding himself more frequently, of late.
“Well….” Crowley said, pulling Aziraphale out from his thoughts.
Crowley turned his head to look out into the street before continuing. “Perhaps we could... pretend to be. A romantic couple, that is.”
Aziraphale’s hands froze in place. “Pretend? Howso?” he asked as normally as possible.
“At your meeting tonight. Nina will be there, and if she sees us being… together, maybe it will help things along? Give her the push she needs to do the love thing.” Crowley nudged his sunglasses up to be flush against his face.
“Just an idea, of course,” he added.
Aziraphale couldn’t help breaking into a small smile. “Well, I think that is a splendid idea, Crowley. How very selfless of you!”
Crowley turned back to face Aziraphale. From behind his glasses, he shot the angel a glare that said, “I am not nice and I never have been so stop going on about it.”
“We both know that’s not true, but very well,” Aziraphale’s eyes glinted back. They've had this conversation so many times over the years, the words needn't be spoken.
Crowley drained his glass with a final gulp of wine. “I am just doing my part to make sure Heaven and Hell don’t keep bothering us. If that means pretending to be a 'couple' so some humans fall in love, so be it.”
“Well, I appreciate it,” said Aziraphale, careful not to seem too eager. He kept his breath slow and steady. This actually took quite a bit of effort, as his heart was doing its best impression of a snare drum.
“Alright well,” Crowley pulled himself up, righting his jacket. “I’ll see you tonight at your Corillian Ball.”
“ Cotillion Ball,” Aziraphale corrected as Crowley began to saunter away.
“Right, yes,” Crowley said without turning around. “See you tonight, Angel.” He gave a slight wave before disappearing around the corner.
Aziraphale turned back around in his seat and finally let a grin streak across his face. He felt positively giddy. He was going to have a romantic evening with Crowley! Tonight! It would all be pretend, of course, but still. Crowley was very good at lying and Aziraphale was very good at believing in things. For just one night, Aziraphale was going to get to have the relationship he’d always dreamt of.
The angel stood up and adjusted his waistcoat and tie. Today has turned out to be quite lovely indeed , he thought to himself with a smile. And with that, he merrily strode back to the bookshop to prepare for tonight's Ball.
1. This was, in fact, true. Hell had a field-day when “gossip columns” became popular in the 1980s- despite the fact that very few demons were actually ever able to read them.
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2. It was many times.
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