sauntereddownward | (no subject)

(no subject)

The next morning dawned, bright and fresh as the first dawn and every dawn thereafter. Crowley took note of the sunlight. There had been no sunlight in the basket, no need to rouse even a smidgen while he'd been trapped. But now the light indicated creation.

It wasn't enough to get him to open his eyes, but he did become quite aware that this was a bed. A delightfully comfortable bed, warm and soft, and the warmth that made the demon gravitate to it and ease in tight against it was solid and familiar and safe.

All he'd wanted since the day he'd watched Aziraphale leave.

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“For the time being, I suppose,” said Aziraphale, not looking at him. “The shop needs some upkeep.”

"I see," he said.

Crowley didn't believe him a bit, which was terribly odd. Generally he believed little but Aziraphale.

Everything that Aziraphale said was true, of course, but he did not particularly want to talk to Crowley about the things that he wasn't saying.

"Would you like some tea?" he asked, having finished putting on his shoes and now fully dressed.

"Yes," he nodded, his own silk pajamas replaced with a smart black suit.

He cast a glance at the bed, which immediately thought to tidy itself.

He paused.

"How long has it been?" he asked, glancing out the window to the street below that was unlike what he remembered.

"I'm not sure actually," Aziraphale said quietly. "I mean, how long you were in there. I came as soon as I - "

He stopped himself. "We can go explore if you like. I haven't been down in a while myself. Though I find it depressing how few books there are in the world."

"A good idea," he said. "Just like old times. And older times. And olden times..."

He smiled to himself at his clever little joke.

Crowley knew he wanted very much to be cross. Very cross. He wanted to be terribly crocs and wounded.

But it was simply so Nice to have the angel back.

"Well all right then," said Aziraphale, relaxing a bit. He was glad Crowley was not yelling at him. He was also still trying very hard not to think about the last time they spoke. And... kissed.

"Breakfast?"

"What's on the menu?" he asked, which was a clear yes as he followed Aziraphale to the kitchen for tea and food.

"Oh I actually thought we might go out," Aziraphale said, though he did start making tea anyway.

It was remarkable, the way the angel could tempt the demon with almost no effort.

Crowley perked up.

"The Ritz?" he asked hopefully?

"Yes please," said Aziraphale happily, perking up as well. "That would be just lovely. It's been so long."

Once they ventured out of the shop and through the streets, Crowley began to have serious concerns that The Ritz still stood. And yet, there she was in all her glory, the same as always.

"Looks right," he said.

"I doubt Giancarlo is still alive, don't you think? A fresh staff to confuse," he smiled

"Oh, I can't imagine any of the staff remain," Aziraphale said. "I do rather hope that there are still humans in the kitchen though, it seems as if robots have taken over much of the service industry...."

"Robots? Cooking?"

Crowley's nose wrinkled in disgust.

"Unholy."

Aziraphale flinched visibly at the word. "Well. I'm afraid you're not going to like the world we're in very much if that bothers you."

"Oh, my," Crowley replied quietly.

He wondered where that basket had gotten too...

The dining room was much the same. Newer decor in the same classic style. The maitre'd was pleased to give them their usual table, though he wasn't aware of that, and the wine needed a bit of convincing to be up to snuff- all normal.

Like coming home from a long trip.

"To the Ritz," Crowley said, lifting his glass.

It did feel like coming home. And it made Aziraphale wonder... if he'd made the wrong decision all those many years ago. Was it worth it? What had he given up?

"Yes indeed," he said quietly, and toasted before taking a drink. The people at the table next to them were looking at them oddly, probably because of the wine for breakfast, but Aziraphale hadn't complained about Crowley's order.

Crowley didn't care about the looks, he simply enjoyed the nicest wine he'd had in years.

And then they were brought tea and pastry with their menus.

Crowley took a deep breath of satisfaction.

"Ah, some things are still correct."

Aziraphale watched him, enjoying just seeing him look happy, and also realizing how much he'd missed his face, and...

He forced himself to look away, and shoved some pastry into his mouth.

Crowley picked up the menu out of habit, and ordered the same gravlox and dill for Aziraphale and blood sausage for himself as always.

"Are we getting back to work, then?" he asked the angel. "Since you're back. Back to the old grind? I tempt, you thwart? The Arrangement?"

Aziraphale wasn't sure if they truly still had the same menu or if it was a tiny little miracle from Crowley, but decided not to question it.

Aziraphale was going to answer the question, really, but then suddenly, the waiter who had approached their table once more froze in mid air. In fact, so did everyone else. Everyone but them.

"Oh, no," Aziraphale said with a visible wince, just before a familiar figure strolled up to their table.

Michael.

She looked right past Aziraphale and sneered at Crowley. "I should have known," she said.

Then turned her attention back to Aziraphale. "I'm here to officially report that by the skin of your teeth you've only been demoted back down to your prior position. Just so you know, I voted against you. I think you should be mopping floors."

Aziraphale looked as if he wanted to sink into the floor.

Crowley, utterly confused and completely decades behind on any sort of gossip, gaped.

"What for!?" he demanded after the initial shock wore off.

Aziraphale ignored him.

"Yes yes," he muttered. "It's fine, Michael. I knew what I was doing. Besides, it's been a long time, and I think I've done some good. Time to let someone else have the reins for a bit."

He hoped it wasn't her.

He was a bit relieved, though. He'd thought this was the likely outcome, but he could have always ended up... mopping floors.

She gave Aziraphale one last stony stare, and then winked out of existence. Around them, everyone started moving again.

"More water, sir?" asked the waiter, and Aziraphale nodded politely as he poured, taking another bite of his scone and not looking at Crowley.

Crowley was utterly gobsmacked and sat, agape, staring at Aziraphale.

Surely there would be an explanation forthcoming for that.

Aziraphale finished the pastry.

"What do you want me to say?" he finally sighed, forcing himself to look at Crowley. "Surely you didn't think I was just down here on holiday."