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"What are you still doing here? You finished your coffee ages ago, didn't you?"
Crowley looked up at Nina and replied, "Hey, Nina, you should be nicer to the customers."
Nina shrugged and retorted, "You're not a customer, you're a parasite."
Crowley retorted, "I'm still paying for my coffee, and I want a second one."
Nina eyed him suspiciously and sat down across from him, "Out of the question. You're already too nervous."
She pointed at the demon's fingers tapping nervously on the table and continued, "Spit it out."
Crowley shook his head, "And being the subject of street gossip for the next few days? No thanks."
Nina chuckled softly, "You're going to be the subject of gossip anyway, so go ahead and shoot!"
Crowley avoided her gaze and murmured in a low voice, "I'd like to do something romantic for you know who... well..."
"Oh no no no, I'm going to stop you right there. Go to Maggie, she's the incurable romantic between the two of us. She's better at that sort of thing."
Crowley handed him his empty cup, "Coffee for the road?"
"Go to hell!"
Crowley stood and muttered, "Been there, not going back," before leaving the coffee shop and heading for Maggie's shop.
He stepped through the door and exclaimed, "Maggie, I'm so glad to see you!"
Maggie looked at him quizzically and said quietly, "You know, when you're not grumpy, you're almost scary. What do you want?"
"Oh, I'm really hurt that you'd take it that way."
Shaking her head in amusement at Crowley's now familiar antics, she replied softly, "Is this about Aziraphale?"
That had the effect of calming him, and he came to lean against the counter.
"Okay, you know, I was at Nina's and I finally told her that I wanted to do, uh, you know, something for Aziraphale, not the usual, you know."
Maggie laughed softly, "I now understand why Nina sent you here. If I'm trying to decipher what you're trying to tell me, I assume you want to surprise Aziraphale and you don't know exactly what."
Crowley sighed, glad he didn't have to humiliate himself any further, "I knew you were sharp, Maggie."
"I told you I liked you better when you're grumpy. Gerald Lambert."
Crowley raised his eyebrows, "What?"
"The cellist Gérald Lambert. Aziraphale seems to be quite fond of him. Unfortunately, he's never been recorded on vinyl, so I don't have anything for him. But I seem to have seen that he is currently performing in London, though I don't know more than that. I think Mr. Arnold would be in a better position to inform you about such concerts than I am."
Crowley rolled his eyes, wondering how many times he'd have to socialize today.
He thanked her with a grunt and headed for the music store not far away, hoping to avoid Justine, the owner of the French restaurant.
"Oh, it's Mr. Good Guy!"
Crowley retorted, "I already told you, I'm not either... What?"
Mrs. Sandwich looked at him cheekily and replied, "I got the message about you not being a lad. So here's your new nickname, Mr Good Guy!"
Crowley refused to argue; he felt it was a lost cause anyway.
The sassy woman continued, "So you want to do something for your sweetheart?"
He stared at her, "My wh... what?"
Mrs. Sandwich replied, "The bookseller."
Gossip in this neighborhood was a disaster.
Nina would pay for it.
With a mischievous smile on his lips, he leaned into Mrs. Sandwich's ear and whispered, "I hear Nina's added a coffee to her menu called the Vinyl Latte."
Seeing that the woman was still not reacting, he added in a conspiratorial tone, "You know, Vinyl, like the record store, and Latte, like the coffee..."
"Oooooh... oooh, I think I have to be somewhere."
The woman didn't greet him and went straight into Justine's restaurant. Crowley snickered as he entered the music store.
He felt a little more at ease because he didn't have to explain himself, he had just come to get some information. He walked confidently up to the man at the cash register and, after greeting him, asked, "Have you heard of Gérald Lambert?"
The shopkeeper eyed him suspiciously, thinking that Crowley probably didn't really seem like the kind of guy who liked that kind of music, before replying, "The cellist? Yes. Quite."
"I hear he's giving a concert in London at the moment?"
"Yes, absolutely, at the Wigmore Hall, playing Bach's 6 suites for solo cello. But all the concerts are sold out."
Crowley nodded, looking slightly annoyed, while inwardly telling himself that getting tickets would be as easy as clearing a table at the Ritz, which was what he was going to do as well.
He greeted Mr. Arnold and left the shop, rubbing his hands together. A few more preparations and it would be perfect.
**********
Meanwhile, as the afternoon drew to a close and night began to fall, Aziraphale was surprised that he hadn't seen Crowley since he'd left for coffee at Nina's.
Busy with yet another tax audit because his well-kept accounts were too suspicious, Aziraphale hadn't seen the time fly.
He took off his glasses and muttered, "I wonder where he's been."
"Well, after spending some time with Nina, he went to Maggie's, then met with Mrs. Sandwich, and finally went to Mr. Arnold's."
Aziraphale turned to Muriel and asked, "Tell me, did you work or spend your time watching the street?"
Muriel replied, "It's not like the street is very big. Besides, given his appearance, Mr. Grumpy is quite an eye-catcher.
Aziraphale raised an eyebrow and replied, "You spend a little too much time with Mr. Grumpy. You're getting pretty cheeky."
Muriel's face fell and they began to apologize. Recognizing this kind of behavior, Aziraphale immediately stopped them, "I was joking, Muriel. I just thought it was like I heard Crowley talking and found it amusing. It's not a reproach. It never will be. Go on and express yourself freely. I'm sorry if I made you think otherwise."
He was relieved to see the other angel's smile return after a few seconds and promised himself to be careful in the future. He knew exactly what it felt like to constantly have to stop yourself from expressing who you were.
They continued to put the books away together and it was getting dark when he told Muriel they'd done enough and they could go home.
The angel had barely left the bookstore when Crowley entered.
"Crowley, my dear! Where have you been?"
Crowley approached and said with a small smile on his lips, "Let's just say I went to do a few things. How about you? Did you finish your accounting or whatever it was you had to do?"
Aziraphale joined him in the middle of the bookshop and replied with a sigh, "Actually, I'm knackered."
Crowley raised his hand and wiped a small smear of ink from the angel's cheek with his thumb, leaving his hand there. As the angel leaned his face against the demon's hand, Crowley asked gently, "Too tired for a little surprise?"
It was as if something had animated the angel from within, and his eyes lit up as he exclaimed, "A surprise? What is it?"
The demon chuckled and replied, "Angel, if I tell you, it won't be a surprise anymore, will it?"
The angel turned his head into the demon's hand and kissed his palm before Crowley dropped it and grabbed the angel's hand. He pulled him toward the door of the bookshop and the angel asked, "Where are we going?"
Crowley turned to him, winked, and simply replied, "Do I have to remind you that this is a surprise?"
He led the angel to the Bentley and gallantly opened the door for him to get in before getting behind the wheel.
They had barely driven a few yards when music began to play on the car radio, Aziraphale almost immediately gasped and said in a surprised voice, "It's Bach's Cello Suite No. 1! Crowley, you never listen to this kind of music!"
Crowley playfully replied, "But you do."
Aziraphale looked at him puzzled for a few seconds before exclaiming again, "It's played by Gérald Lambert! I'd recognize his style anywhere!"
Crowley, a satisfied smile on his lips, asked, "And how about listening to it live? I'd say... right here, right now."
The Bentley had just miraculously pulled up not far from Wigmore Hall.
"Crowley! But how...and why?"
Crowley opened the door again to let him out, then held out his arm for them to walk down the hall before answering, "How? Let's just say with the help of some people and a little magic. Why? Because I wanted to surprise you and make you happy."
Aziraphale squeezed his arm and said, looking delighted, "Well, it worked."
A short time later, they were seated in a booth that allowed them to enjoy the concert to the fullest.
Crowley, who found the music absolutely boring, enjoyed the spectacle of the angel's reactions as the concert went on, and in the end the two hours didn't seem all that long.
As the applause died down, Crowley whispered in the angel's ear, "I have another little surprise for you. How would you like to meet your idol?"
He was delighted to see the angel's expression of joy as he threw his arms around his neck and embraced him.
A short time later they were at the stage door and Gerald Lambert approached them, the angel excited as a flea, handed him the concert program and exclaimed happily, "I'm so happy to meet you."
The musician simply nodded distantly, and Crowley instantly hated him.
Aziraphale continued as the musician signed, "You really are a talented musician, and I've never..."
The cellist interrupted, handing back the program, "Yes, thank you, I already know all that. You can save your breath, you've got your autograph. Thanks for coming."
Crowley was about to jump in and tell the ruffian what he thought, but Aziraphale beat him to it. He handed the signed program back to the musician and calmly replied, "It's a shame that such a talent should be served by such a bad temper. Please take back your signature, sir, as I don't want to remember you. May I never see you again."
He turned with dignity and walked away, followed by Crowley, impressed by the grace with which the Angel had handled the situation. He looked back and couldn't help but make a small gesture to trip the cellist; it wasn't much, but it satisfied him enough.
"What a despicable little bastard!"
Crowley turned his head toward the angel who had just cursed and couldn't help but laugh as he grabbed the angel's arm.
He said softly, "I'm sorry your idol didn't live up to your expectations."
Aziraphale took advantage of the deserted alleyway to stop and kiss the demon on the cheek before continuing, "I had a great night anyway. Thank you."
Crowley asked, "How about I tempt you once again to end this evening even more nicely by dining at the Ritz?"
Aziraphale laughed softly and replied, "I would say, as always, temptation accomplished."
They both laughed as they got into the Bentley.
Moments later, they were seated at their usual table, just a little closer than usual, waiting for the waiter as the piano played the notes of soft jazzy music.
Under Aziraphale's surprised gaze, Crowley stood and whispered a few words to the pianist, who nodded with a smile.
When Crowley returned, the waiter had filled their glasses with champagne and Aziraphale had his in his hand. Crowley grabbed his, and Aziraphale was about to toast him when he stopped abruptly and whispered, "It's..."
Crowley nodded, smiling.
“That certain night
The night we met
There was magic abroad in the air”
There was undeniable magic in the air, and as Crowley and Aziraphale took a sip of champagne, the angel took the demon's hand and intertwined their fingers.
It wasn't Bach.
The pianist wasn't famous.
But to Aziraphale, it was worth all the concerts in the world because it was a hymn to their love.