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    Summary

    “Why have you brought me a cake?” Aziraphale asked, still blank.

     

    “Do I need an occasion? You like cake.”

     

    “Yes, but...” Aziraphale wondered if it would cause offense if he mentioned that he liked good cake, not a cheap Madeira covered in sugar sprinkles from Sainsbury’s. Which Crowley knew, obviously, having spent a not insignificant portion of their centuries on Earth watching Aziraphale eat cake.

     

    “Although it is an occasion,” Crowley went on, apparently taking pity on Aziraphale’s inability to form a sentence. “Happy birthday!”

     

    “Crowley...” The look Aziraphale gave him suggested that perhaps they should watch their footing, lest they trip over the marbles that Crowley had clearly lost. “I don’t have a birthday. Neither of us do. Days didn’t exist yet, when we were created.”

     

    Crowley decides to indulge Aziraphale's love of correct paperwork.

    Series
    Language:
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