Continued from TFLN

[miracling]

Aziraphale always feels that it's the rare bad day which can't be improved by good food, good wine and good company, and to his mind that makes his dining establishments of choice as much a blessing to Earth as any more direct angelic influence. Who wouldn't be cheered up by a sumptuous meal and impeccable service? Even demons in a foul mood, which Crowley certainly seems to be, though Aziraphale is used to his snapping and not a bit troubled by it. He has their table ready, just as promised (he really does think of it as their table, after all this time, and on the occasions when Aziraphale dines here alone he has himself seated elsewhere, because the same table without Crowley slouched on his left just doesn't feel right) with a sympathetically large pour of single malt scotch at each of their places to get them started, and a beautiful Cheval Blanc on order.

All very lovely; he smooths his lapels, turns a blossom in a vase on the table just so, and hopes that Crowley remembers to miracle away the smell of seal before he arrives.

Comments

[mafia_queen]

"Yeah, there's a lot of phrases you're going to have to learn to - " Something in Crowley's face suddenly went sharp, as his eyes narrowed behind his sunglasses, "And just who precissssely told you to DIAF?"

No one told his best friend to go die in a fire. He'd bloody well cut off their wi-fi for a month, do some real damaging evil to their online profiles, the little punks. He huffed and cut into his salad with sharp, almost stabbing motions. The taste soothed his aggravated nerves.

"Not if they're going to be little shits about it. Have half a mind to outbid them on everything they go for. Just to be a wanker."

[miracling]

Oh dear. He supposed by that reaction that it really was a most impolite thing to say. "Oh, I don't know their real names," Aziraphale said, reaching out to pat Crowley's arm reassuringly. "They all have silly handles, you know, 'biteme69' and that sort of thing. It's probably not worth the effort of pursuing." He could always find out himself, if it came to it. Surely Aziraphale was perfectly capable of handling internet spats, even if he didn't understand all the acronyms.

"The salad is lovely, isn't it?" he went on brightly, attempting to divert Crowley from planning dreadful fates upon his eBay opponents. "I adore these little bits of endive, such a zesty taste."

[mafia_queen]

Crowley gave him a sideways look, one that clearly said, 'I know you're fibbing so I don't go and turn those bidders into splats on the ground, but I'm letting you get away with it.' He didn't object the hand on his arm at all. "Right. Well. Probably not. Anyways, so you know for future -- Die In A Fire."

He muttered under his breath as he took another bite of salad. "Might want to mention you know someone who dabbles with fire professionally, is all."

Another sideways look, but a faint smile followed. "I like zest. Don't think much of your topic changing, but I like zest."

[miracling]

‘Die in a fire’? Well that really was astonishingly rude, not to mention a violent and completely unnecessary fate to wish on a mere eBay opponent. Aziraphale swallowed his indignation so as not to get Crowley riled up again, though he was privately resolved to have strong words with the next so-called ‘troll’ who threw the acronym at him, and possibly have their account conveniently banned as well. It would be for the greater good, after all.

“That’s a good point, dear fellow. I’ll keep it in mind.” With the complacency of someone who could visit all sorts of dreadful fates on his enemies if he wished to (and whose friends could as well) Aziraphale gave Crowley’s arm a final pat and went back to his meal. He met Crowley’s sidelong look with a smile. “I do as well, but I’m really looking forward to a bit of dessert. They had an orange blossom panna cotta on the menu, did you see it? It sounded truly delectable.”

[mafia_queen]

Crowley took a big bite of his salad, enjoying how all the tastes melded together into something completely delightful in his mouth. Chewed, slowly, savoring it, before following with a sip of his scotch.

"Cheers." He nodded his head, before he went to take another bite of salad. He couldn't help but smile at the pat on the arm - time was that the angel wouldn't dare touch him. Now look at him, all best-friendy. "Sounds good. Guessing so good that we're not sharing?"