Happiest of Holidays, ace_girl!
title: Untitled
gift for: ace_girl
gift from: scribblephoenix
rating: PG
(mods') summary: a sweet little tale involving an angel, a demon, and a request for lunch.
Crowley knocked, then thought better of it and opened the door to the bookshop anyway. A small bell tinkled somewhere in the depths of the shop, but Aziraphale was already sitting in the front room, behind his desk. He seemed thoroughly engrossed in the book that lay in his lap, though he looked up at the sound of the door.
“Ah, angel. You're here - good, I-” Crowley paused, eyeing the angel warily. “What is that?”
Aziraphale looked up at him innocently. “What's what?”
“That ghastly thing on your head.”
The angel reached a hand up, slowly, to his new hat, of which he seemed rather proud. “Oh. This?” he asked innocuously.
Crowley looked at him for a long time and didn't say anything.
“But,” Aziraphale started. “Tartan is...”
“Stylish. Yes, so you've mentioned,” Crowley mumbled, giving up. He ran a hand through his hair, distractedly.
"Anyway," Aziraphale continued, ignoring the hat. "You were saying?"
Crowley looked at him uncertainly, still unable to shake off the surrealism. "Erm. Yes. I was just going to lodge a complaint,” he tried.
Aziraphale blinked. "Look, if you're not going to leave the bloody hat thing alone..."
"No. It's not that. It's the plants."
Aziraphale looked at him oddly. "The...plants...?" he repeated.
"My house plants. You know. They're a bit...off," Crowley continued.
Aziraphale raised his eyebrow. "My dear, when aren't they? You bully them so much..."
Crowley sighed over the rest of his sentence. "Yes, yes," he said testily. "What I'm saying is they need a visit to, you know. Perk them up. A bit. You see."
Aziraphale looked at him for a long time. "I'm sorry?"
"NevermindthenIwasjust-"
"Oh, you want me to visit?"
"The house plants want you to visit,” he corrected quickly. “Yes. Yes, that was the gist of it."
Aziraphale was quiet for a long time. "Oh. Well, if that's the case, I'm only too happy to. You can tell the, erm, plants that I'll be over to see them shortly. This week. Definitely."
"Thank you. I'm sure they'll be pleased."
"Yes, I'm sure they will," Aziraphale finished awkwardly. As he went to cough, Crowley made a funny sound in the back of his throat.
"What?" the angel asked.
"I- nothing. It's just...it's hard to take you seriously with that hat."
"Oh, for...for Someone's sake!" Aziraphale snapped, whipping the hat off his head and hurriedly stuffing it into a drawer at the desk, to probably never see the light of day again. "There. Will you just leave it now?"
The demon pressed his lips together to hide a faint smirk, and rearranged his sunglasses perched on his nose. "I can probably manage, yes."
"Well. Was there anything else?"
Crowley studied the toe of his shoe for a while. "Ahm. Since we're both here. Maybe. I don't know, dinner again?"
Aziraphale perked up at this, the hat fiasco obviously forgotten. "You were thinking the Ritz?"
Crowley shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know. There's this nice little place I found..."
Aziraphale blinked, and waited with an expectant look.
"That is, I found by accident. You know. It's a bit out of the way. But, it looked sort of..." he struggled to find the right words. "Nice?" he finished lamely.
Aziraphale smiled crookedly, picking up his cup of cocoa which had long since gone cold. "I'd love to."
Crowley drove them in the Bentley, ignoring Aziraphale's polite requests that he should perhaps slow down and not drive 'like bat out of you-know-where'. Crowley didn't find it very funny, although Aziraphale quietly giggled.
"So, what an earth possessed you to get that monstrous hat?" Crowley asked.
Aziraphale's face turned serious again, and he looked out of the window for a long time before answering. "I don't know," he said vaguely. "Maybe I thought it was time for a change."
Crowley looked at him sideways through his sunglasses. "You don't ever change."
Aziraphale smiled briefly. "Mmm, maybe that's the point."
"Is it?"
"Is what?" the angel asked, looking up as though he'd been dozing off. "I don't know, I feel I've rather lost the thread of this conversation, my dear."
Crowley was silent for a few moments. “You know, a tartan hat isn't the most radical and up-to-date change that I can imagine.”
“Yes, all right, Crowley, would you just drop it?”
Crowley smirked discreetly. "Do you want to stop off at the park first?" he asked finally.
The park was nearly empty, but for a woman walking her dog, and a father and son ambling along near the bench where Crowley and Aziraphale sat. The boy had an ice cream held proudly in his hand, and they watched as the ice cream slid perfectly off of the cone, and splatted onto the ground with an inevitable thump.
"You did that," Aziraphale mumbled accusingly, as the child stared down in horrified silence at the fallen lump.
Crowley heaved a sigh. "He dropped it,” he said flatly. “Must you blame me for everything? Ice cream is hardly something that needs constant thwarting, you know, angel."
"It was you this time, though. I can always tell. You didn't come here for a good old-fashioned tempting, did you?" Aziraphale asked, a little sourly, ostensibly watching the ducks.
Crowley hadn't actually planned on it, but the opportunity had presented itself and distracted him. "No, it was just too tempting to pass up. His dad's probably going to buy him another one."
As the child bent down to survey the splodge of lost ice cream, he was distracted by a glittering butterfly sat on a blade of grass mere centimetres away. He laughed joyously and the butterfly flew gently onto his finger, and the boy turned around to show his father what he'd found.
"Spoilsport," Crowley grumbled.
"It was just too tempting to pass up," Aziraphale answered, fiddling with his hair. "If you don't mind, dear, I'm feeling rather hungry now. Dinner sounds absolutely divine."
gift for: ace_girl
gift from: scribblephoenix
rating: PG
(mods') summary: a sweet little tale involving an angel, a demon, and a request for lunch.
Crowley knocked, then thought better of it and opened the door to the bookshop anyway. A small bell tinkled somewhere in the depths of the shop, but Aziraphale was already sitting in the front room, behind his desk. He seemed thoroughly engrossed in the book that lay in his lap, though he looked up at the sound of the door.
“Ah, angel. You're here - good, I-” Crowley paused, eyeing the angel warily. “What is that?”
Aziraphale looked up at him innocently. “What's what?”
“That ghastly thing on your head.”
The angel reached a hand up, slowly, to his new hat, of which he seemed rather proud. “Oh. This?” he asked innocuously.
Crowley looked at him for a long time and didn't say anything.
“But,” Aziraphale started. “Tartan is...”
“Stylish. Yes, so you've mentioned,” Crowley mumbled, giving up. He ran a hand through his hair, distractedly.
"Anyway," Aziraphale continued, ignoring the hat. "You were saying?"
Crowley looked at him uncertainly, still unable to shake off the surrealism. "Erm. Yes. I was just going to lodge a complaint,” he tried.
Aziraphale blinked. "Look, if you're not going to leave the bloody hat thing alone..."
"No. It's not that. It's the plants."
Aziraphale looked at him oddly. "The...plants...?" he repeated.
"My house plants. You know. They're a bit...off," Crowley continued.
Aziraphale raised his eyebrow. "My dear, when aren't they? You bully them so much..."
Crowley sighed over the rest of his sentence. "Yes, yes," he said testily. "What I'm saying is they need a visit to, you know. Perk them up. A bit. You see."
Aziraphale looked at him for a long time. "I'm sorry?"
"NevermindthenIwasjust-"
"Oh, you want me to visit?"
"The house plants want you to visit,” he corrected quickly. “Yes. Yes, that was the gist of it."
Aziraphale was quiet for a long time. "Oh. Well, if that's the case, I'm only too happy to. You can tell the, erm, plants that I'll be over to see them shortly. This week. Definitely."
"Thank you. I'm sure they'll be pleased."
"Yes, I'm sure they will," Aziraphale finished awkwardly. As he went to cough, Crowley made a funny sound in the back of his throat.
"What?" the angel asked.
"I- nothing. It's just...it's hard to take you seriously with that hat."
"Oh, for...for Someone's sake!" Aziraphale snapped, whipping the hat off his head and hurriedly stuffing it into a drawer at the desk, to probably never see the light of day again. "There. Will you just leave it now?"
The demon pressed his lips together to hide a faint smirk, and rearranged his sunglasses perched on his nose. "I can probably manage, yes."
"Well. Was there anything else?"
Crowley studied the toe of his shoe for a while. "Ahm. Since we're both here. Maybe. I don't know, dinner again?"
Aziraphale perked up at this, the hat fiasco obviously forgotten. "You were thinking the Ritz?"
Crowley shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know. There's this nice little place I found..."
Aziraphale blinked, and waited with an expectant look.
"That is, I found by accident. You know. It's a bit out of the way. But, it looked sort of..." he struggled to find the right words. "Nice?" he finished lamely.
Aziraphale smiled crookedly, picking up his cup of cocoa which had long since gone cold. "I'd love to."
Crowley drove them in the Bentley, ignoring Aziraphale's polite requests that he should perhaps slow down and not drive 'like bat out of you-know-where'. Crowley didn't find it very funny, although Aziraphale quietly giggled.
"So, what an earth possessed you to get that monstrous hat?" Crowley asked.
Aziraphale's face turned serious again, and he looked out of the window for a long time before answering. "I don't know," he said vaguely. "Maybe I thought it was time for a change."
Crowley looked at him sideways through his sunglasses. "You don't ever change."
Aziraphale smiled briefly. "Mmm, maybe that's the point."
"Is it?"
"Is what?" the angel asked, looking up as though he'd been dozing off. "I don't know, I feel I've rather lost the thread of this conversation, my dear."
Crowley was silent for a few moments. “You know, a tartan hat isn't the most radical and up-to-date change that I can imagine.”
“Yes, all right, Crowley, would you just drop it?”
Crowley smirked discreetly. "Do you want to stop off at the park first?" he asked finally.
The park was nearly empty, but for a woman walking her dog, and a father and son ambling along near the bench where Crowley and Aziraphale sat. The boy had an ice cream held proudly in his hand, and they watched as the ice cream slid perfectly off of the cone, and splatted onto the ground with an inevitable thump.
"You did that," Aziraphale mumbled accusingly, as the child stared down in horrified silence at the fallen lump.
Crowley heaved a sigh. "He dropped it,” he said flatly. “Must you blame me for everything? Ice cream is hardly something that needs constant thwarting, you know, angel."
"It was you this time, though. I can always tell. You didn't come here for a good old-fashioned tempting, did you?" Aziraphale asked, a little sourly, ostensibly watching the ducks.
Crowley hadn't actually planned on it, but the opportunity had presented itself and distracted him. "No, it was just too tempting to pass up. His dad's probably going to buy him another one."
As the child bent down to survey the splodge of lost ice cream, he was distracted by a glittering butterfly sat on a blade of grass mere centimetres away. He laughed joyously and the butterfly flew gently onto his finger, and the boy turned around to show his father what he'd found.
"Spoilsport," Crowley grumbled.
"It was just too tempting to pass up," Aziraphale answered, fiddling with his hair. "If you don't mind, dear, I'm feeling rather hungry now. Dinner sounds absolutely divine."