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“What can I get for you guys today? The usual?” Nina asks, stopping beside a table at which an angel and demon are seated.
“The usual for me, please,” Crowley says, looking out the window absent-mindedly.
“Me, as well, thank you,” Aziraphale agrees politely. “Could I also get some Eccles cakes with that?”
Both Nina and Crowley look at him curiously. “And what are you stressed about today, Mr. Fell?” Nina asks.
Aziraphale throws a quick, almost-unnoticeable glance at Crowley. “Nothing,” He says, but his voice is pitched to high for that statement to be honest. “I just like the Eccles cakes.” Nina narrows her eyes at him but nods as she walks off to get their order.
Crowley watches as she leaves. Once he's sure she's out of earshot, he leans forward and rests his elbows on the table. “Alright, good try,” he says. “What’s the matter?”
Aziraphale does a bad job at looking surprised. “What do you mean?” He asks.
“Don’t play dumb with me, Angel,” Crowley says. “You only buy Eccles cakes when something is wrong. I know you.”
Aziraphale’s fake-innocent expression melts into a more defeated one. A quiet sigh escapes his lips. “It’s nothing, dear, really,” he says. “Or… at least, nothing I’d like to discuss quite yet.”
Crowley studies him for a moment. He reaches up to take his sunglasses off, but recoils from the action when he remembers that they’re in public. “Well... whenever you’re ready, then,” he says slowly.
“Thank you, Crowley,” Aziraphale says, his voice quiet, his gaze still steady with his. Crowley doesn't look away, either, and they sit watching each other for a bit too long. Finally, Crowley looks down at the table, regretting it the second he does.
As if she had sensed the tension, Nina breaks the silence by bringing them their drinks– Crowley’s usual 6 shots of espresso in a big cup, Aziraphale’s usual Chamomile— and today's Eccles cakes. Suddenly, Maggie walks up behind Nina, putting a hand on her shoulder.
“Did you ask them about the play?”
“Oh! I forgot. Are you two doing anything on Friday night?”
The angel and demon glance at each other, then look back up, shaking their heads in unison.
“There’s going to be a play down at the theater, starting around 6. It seemed like something Aziraphale might be interested in.”
“Oh, yes, I love the theater,” Aziraphale says cheerfully.
“The only catch is that me and Nina are going there for a date,” Maggie says. “We didn’t want Aziraphale to have to third wheel, but neither of us were sure if Crowley also enjoys the theater, so–”
“Yeah, I’ll go,” Crowley says absent-mindedly, sipping his espresso.
“Are you sure, Crowley?” Aziraphale says. “I know that you get bored at plays sometimes–”
“Nah, I’ll be fine,” Crowley says. “It won’t be boring if you’re– if we’re–” he cuts himself off, hesitating before switching to, “Ngk. I’ll be fine.”
Aziraphale blushes, taking a drink of his tea. Neither he nor Crowley notice the knowing smile passed between Nina and Maggie, who have just had the exact conversation they were hoping to have.
“Well, that’s settled then,” Maggie says cheerfully.
“You could even call it a double date,” Nina hums, nonchalant.
Crowley chokes on his coffee. “Uh– pardon?” he sputters, avoiding Aziraphale’s eyes.
“Oh, no– no, not that,” Aziraphale says nervously. “We’re just… ah… third a fourth wheeling, as you called it before.”
Crowley clears his throat, getting the remaining coffee out of his windpipe. “Exactly,” he mumbles.
Maggie shrugs, looking innocent enough. “If you say so,” she says. She tugs on Nina’s arm. “Come on, another customer just walked in.”
“How dare you order me around in my own shop,” Nina says, hurrying past her so that she’s the one dragging Maggie away.
“Maybe I’m just better at running a shop,” Maggie says. Nina replies, but their bickering voices have blended in with the background chatter of the restaurant. Aziraphale and Crowley sit in silence for a moment.
“You really don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” Aziraphale says nervously. “You probably have better things to do–”
“I really don’t,” Crowley chuckles. “Do you think I have a life or something?”
Aziraphale gives him a smile-that's-really-a-frown. “Don’t say that, Crowley,” he says.
“Seriously though, Angel, I want to go,” Crowley says. "It sounds like it will be a nice evening."
Aziraphale relaxes a bit. “As third-and-fourth wheels,” he says.
“Exactly,” Crowley says, avoiding his eyes again. "Why do you think humans came up with that name? Third wheeling. Why is it called that? I don't get it."
"You know, that is a very good question..."
They both sip their drinks, looking out the window and chatting like they always do. Up and far away somewhere, God sighs impatiently.
---==><><><><><><><><><><><><==---
“You didn’t think to tell us that this is a couples only event?!”
“We forgot, Crowley! It’s not like you can’t just pretend.”
Crowley groans, nervously raking a hand through his red hair. “Still, major detail,” he says in frustration.
Aziraphale is also clearly annoyed, but quicker to try to solve the problem then complain about it. “Nina's right, Crowley. I’m sure it won’t be that hard for you to pretend to be my date.”
Crowley goes red. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing,” Aziraphale says, genuinely confused.
“Look, pretending to date doesn't mean making out during the intermission or whatever,” Maggie points out. “Just… act like you normally do, for heaven’s sake.”
Crowley glares at Maggie, directing the same question at her this time. “What’s *that* supposed to mean?”
Nina pinches the bridge of her nose. "Look-- you're the ones who agreed to be here, you have the choice to just bail. That's fine. But we're going in, so are you gonna miss the entertainment because you're too scared to just hold hands, or are you gonna tough it out and have a nice evening?"
When the only reply is crickets, Nina and Maggie shrug at each other. "Well, try to work it out before the play starts," Maggie says, and they both head towards the doors of the theater. Crowley grumbles something to himself that Azirphale can’t make out.
“I know I’ve said this many times, but with the new choices at hand, I feel the need to repeat it,” Aziraphale says nervously. “You really don’t have to come in if you don’t want to.”
“I know that I’ve said this many times,” Crowley echoes. “But despite the recent information we've been given, I would still rather go to this play then wallow around for the evening.”
Aziraphale takes a quick breath. “Alright, if you’re certain. Shall we?” He holds out his hand for Crowley to take. Crowley barely hesitates to do so, and they walk into the theater hand-in-hand.
Half an hour into the play, they still haven't let go. Nina and Maggie are sitting in the row in front of them, Maggie’s head on Nina’s shoulder.
“You know, everyone is too focused on the play to notice if we stop holding hands now,” Crowley whispers. “If you would prefer that.”
“I don’t mind,” Aziraphale whispers back absent-mindedly, but then looks over at the demon anxiously. “B-but, I mean, if it bothers you–”
“No, I don’t mind either,” Crowley says, glad that it’s too dark to see how red his face is. “I just thought you might.”
“Not at all,” Aziraphale replies, and they both look away, equally flustered.
Ten minutes later, Aziraphale feels Crowley’s head rest on his shoulder. His heart skips a beat, then he realizes he had just fallen asleep, and that he hadn’t meant to do it. Still heart-skip worthy, but not the same.
After a cozy, nerve-wracking silence between the two, the play eventually ends. It's the applause that wakes Crowley. He startles upright with a quiet "Ngk," letting go of Aziraphale’s hand to clap as well. “Sorry,” Crowley says over the cheers as they join the standing ovation. “I-- er. I didn’t mean to fall asleep, o-or to...”
“It’s alright, dear,” Aziraphale says, his eyes sparkling in the glow of the distant stage lights. “I don’t mind.”
The lights fade back on, and now it’s very obvious how much Crowley is blushing. This time, Aziraphale notices.
“We’d best get going, yes?” he says. Crowley hums in agreement. With a sudden burst of confidence that he didn't know he has, Aziraphale reaches for Crowley’s hand. Crowley meets his eyes through his glasses, intertwining their fingers. Aziraphale gives him a shy smile, but it falls when he gets startled by Nina clearing her throat.
“We’ll see you tomorrow then?” she asks, giving them a sly smile.
“Ah, yes-- right. We’ll be around the shop sometime, I presume,” Aziraphale replies.
“Right on,” Maggie says, smiling. “Thanks for coming!”
“Thanks for inviting us," Crowley says quietly, clearing his throat.
“Of course!”
Maggie and Nina walk off, chatting with each other as they go.
Crowley yawns.
“Ready for bed, I take it?”
“Ngk,”
“Me, too.”
---==><><><><><><><><><><><><==---
“Here we are, Angel.”
“Thank you for the ride, Crowley. And again, thank you for coming, despite… well, things.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Crowley says, waving a hand dismissively. “I had fun.”
“Me too,” Aziraphale murmurs.
A beat passes where neither of them look away. Crowley isn’t wearing his glasses, and Aziraphle realizes how strikingly bright his eyes are in the light of the street lamps ahead.
“Well then,” Azirphale says breathlessly, looking away and opening the car door. “Goodnight, dear.”
“Night, Angel,” Crowley says quietly, smiling faintly. Aziraphale rushes into the bookshop as Crowley drives away.
Aziraphale shuts the door behind him, the ‘We’re Definitely Closed’ sign rattling against it. Aziraphale leans back against the door, burying his face in his hands as his heart pounds.
“Oh, Fiddlesticks.”
---==><><><><><><><><><><><><==---
“Fuck.”
The lights of the town blur outside the Bently from the speed. Crowley shoves his sunglasses on as if it will hide him from the world.
In response, the Bently starts blasting a song out of the speakers.
“OooooOOOOooo, love… oooooOOOOoooo, loooverrrr booOOYY!”
“Oh, shut up,” Crowley growles.
But the song only gets louder.