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“Coffee,” Crowley snapped before Nina could even finish approaching their cosy table by the radiator, the clipped demand sounding gruffer and raspier than usual. “Strongest and blackest you’ve got.”
“Your usual, got it.” Nina flipped open her notepad and, even though a black coffee was easy enough to remember, wrote it down anyway. “Anything else?”
Crowley shook his head. “Nuh.”
“What happened to you wanting something warm and soothing for your throat?” Aziraphale cut in. “I thought you were going to order tea.”
“Never said that.” Crowley sniffed, though it ended up sounding less indignant (and, embarrassingly, far more congested) than he'd likely been aiming for.
“But, my dear fellow, I'm sure tea would help you feel better faster than coffee would.”
“Don’t care, honestly.”
“Well, I do,” Aziraphale huffed, scanning the menu for anything that might appeal to Crowley’s tastes. “Ah, how about lemon and ginger tea? That sounds awfully soothing, don't you think? And I'm sure Nina wouldn't mind adding a bit of honey to it, if you asked.”
“I don’t want tea,” Crowley sneered, the picture of a petulant child as he leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. “I want coffee.”
Undeterred, Aziraphale turned towards Nina with a brilliant smile. “What other kinds of tea would you suggest for someone dealing with a nasty head cold?”
“I don’t have a cold either,” Crowley groused.
However, as if his corporation had been set on betraying him, a shiver rippled through him and he shifted closer to the radiator for more warmth.
“You’re clearly ill, Crowley,” Aziraphale pressed, giving the hand Crowley had resting across the table a gentle squeeze. “You just don’t want to admit it.”
Despite his bruised pride, Crowley turned his hand over and laced their fingers together. He knew Aziraphale was gauging his temperature by occasionally touching his inner wrist, but graciously chose to let it slide.
“Y’know what, I changed my mind.” Crowley nodded down towards the laminated menu, proudly displaying Give Me Coffee Or Give Me Death on the front, and gave a weary, but no less playful, grin. “Instead of coffee, give me death.”
“Fresh out of that, I’m afraid.” Nina’s lips quirked up into an amused smirk, before gently nudging them back onto the topic of ordering. After all, there was only so long she could leave the counter unattended. “Lemon and ginger might be the best option, like Mr. Fell said. But if you’re in the mood for something a little more interesting, I just got in a new blend with blackberry and sage.”
“Can’t have sage,” Crowley swiftly cut off that train of thought before it could even hit the tracks.
“Quite right. He’s very, uhm—” Aziraphale’s expression turned troubled as he struggled to explain the problem of giving sage to a demon in human terms, “—allergic to it, yes.”
“Right.” Nina stowed that little piece of information away in the mental database she kept on all her regulars. “A cup of lemon and ginger tea, then.”
“And my coffee,” Crowley reminded, helpfully.
“And your coffee,” Nina conceded. “Now, what can I get for you, Mr. Fell?”
“My usual Lady Grey, please. You know how I take it.”
Nina nodded. “With sugar and just a dash of milk.”
“Precisely, dear girl,” Aziraphale beamed. But his smile dimmed, turning almost sad, when he noticed how violently Crowley was shivering despite practically being pressed against the radiator. “Perhaps we should get our drinks to-go.”
“Hnuh?” Crowley roused himself from the light doze he’d fallen into and made a valiant effort to sit up. “We don’t have to leave just ‘cause m’not feeling too great. I’ll be fine, promise.”
While it might have been true that Crowley would have been perfectly fine to enjoy their drinks here, Aziraphale much preferred the idea of taking him back to the bookshop, wrapping him up in a warm blanket, and then enjoying their drinks, curled up on the couch together.
“Yes, but…” Aziraphale dithered, trying to find some kind of excuse for them to leave that wouldn’t get brushed aside so easily. “It’s just, I’d much rather go back to the shop and sort through that box of new additions.”
A dazed look of confusion crossed Crowley’s face. “What new additions?”
“Oh, you know, those books I picked up from that estate sale over in Reading. We stopped in Crawley afterwards so you could have a laugh about it, remember?”
“Oh, no—I mean, yeah, I remember that. But if that’s why you wanna head back, then we can do that.”
“That settles it, then.” Aziraphale stood from his seat, pushing the chair back where it belonged. “Let me just take care of the bill, and we’ll be on our way in a jiffy.”
Crowley’s entire body sagged in relief. “Thanks, angel.