Aziraphale ficlet
Dec. 18th, 2004 05:44 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gilascavefor ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
daegaer
"For Newton's sake, angel, stop it!" Crowley hissed at him, leaning over and crumpling the rather expensive-looking, embossed menu between himself and the table.
Aziraphale frowned. "Newton? I'm pretty sure--"
"No, he isn't. We've had this conversation before." With that, the demon sat back in his chair and stared at his menu. Aziraphale noticed that the menu uncreased itself, and was pretty sure he hadn't done it.
He tried to turn his own attention to the menu in his hands, and focus on whether or not he wanted a dead bird, a dead fish, or a dead cow for lunch. He thought about it hard, reading each description carefully.
"Stop fidgeting!" Crowley hissed again, and Aziraphale jumped.
"I am *not*--"
Crowley glared at him. Aziraphale glared back, indignantly. Crowley smirked. Aziraphale frowned. Crowley smiled and leant back in his chair, and returned to reading the menu.
Aziraphale was about to point out that he most certainly had *not* won the argument, when the waiter arrived.
"Your wine," he said smartly, offering Crowley a bottle of Merlot.
Crowley gave it the barest glance, turned it into something much older and extremely more rare, then nodded. Aziraphale sighed.
"Stop fidgeting, angel," Crowley said again, in a much more relaxed tone.
"I'm not--" He stopped. "Pour me some wine," he said instead. He held out his glass and Crowley poured. He took a rather unrefined long swallow of it, before setting the glass back down.
Crowley patted his hand. "You'll be fine. These eon-reviews are just a formality anyway, you know. Mine was a breeze."
"You work under different management," Aziraphale reminded him.
Crowley gave him a raised-eyebrow. "And whose supervisor is required by law of nature to be forgiving?"
Aziraphale laughed. "As though he doesn't bend the law just as far as he can without getting written up, himself." He took another sip of wine. It really was rather excellent. 4th century B.C., if he recalled correctly.
"Which means if he tries to give you a black mark, you can blackmail him."
Aziraphale gave him a raised eyebrow right back. "You do remember that I'm an angel. We--"
"If you finish that sentence by saying 'don't resort to blackmail', I'll have to remind you of a conversation we had six hundred and forty-seven years ago in a sauna with three dwarves and a hat stand."
Aziraphale closed his mouth. Then he opened it to take another sip of wine.
Maybe he'd have the pork.
daegaer"For Newton's sake, angel, stop it!" Crowley hissed at him, leaning over and crumpling the rather expensive-looking, embossed menu between himself and the table.
Aziraphale frowned. "Newton? I'm pretty sure--"
"No, he isn't. We've had this conversation before." With that, the demon sat back in his chair and stared at his menu. Aziraphale noticed that the menu uncreased itself, and was pretty sure he hadn't done it.
He tried to turn his own attention to the menu in his hands, and focus on whether or not he wanted a dead bird, a dead fish, or a dead cow for lunch. He thought about it hard, reading each description carefully.
"Stop fidgeting!" Crowley hissed again, and Aziraphale jumped.
"I am *not*--"
Crowley glared at him. Aziraphale glared back, indignantly. Crowley smirked. Aziraphale frowned. Crowley smiled and leant back in his chair, and returned to reading the menu.
Aziraphale was about to point out that he most certainly had *not* won the argument, when the waiter arrived.
"Your wine," he said smartly, offering Crowley a bottle of Merlot.
Crowley gave it the barest glance, turned it into something much older and extremely more rare, then nodded. Aziraphale sighed.
"Stop fidgeting, angel," Crowley said again, in a much more relaxed tone.
"I'm not--" He stopped. "Pour me some wine," he said instead. He held out his glass and Crowley poured. He took a rather unrefined long swallow of it, before setting the glass back down.
Crowley patted his hand. "You'll be fine. These eon-reviews are just a formality anyway, you know. Mine was a breeze."
"You work under different management," Aziraphale reminded him.
Crowley gave him a raised-eyebrow. "And whose supervisor is required by law of nature to be forgiving?"
Aziraphale laughed. "As though he doesn't bend the law just as far as he can without getting written up, himself." He took another sip of wine. It really was rather excellent. 4th century B.C., if he recalled correctly.
"Which means if he tries to give you a black mark, you can blackmail him."
Aziraphale gave him a raised eyebrow right back. "You do remember that I'm an angel. We--"
"If you finish that sentence by saying 'don't resort to blackmail', I'll have to remind you of a conversation we had six hundred and forty-seven years ago in a sauna with three dwarves and a hat stand."
Aziraphale closed his mouth. Then he opened it to take another sip of wine.
Maybe he'd have the pork.