At Your Service

Did Crowley Just Trick Aziraphale Into a Date?

Aziraphale walks into the kitchen, where he finds Crowley by himself polishing glasses while his unexpected guests make like they’re entertaining Kaufmann and some of the other faculty in the dining room.

“Everyone’s talking to your friends. If I have to participate, you should as well.”

Crowley holds a glass up to the light, sets it down, then picks up another one, focusing on it as he says, “The longer I’m in here, the less I have to interact with them. And they’re not my friends. If I can manage to stay in here the whole time, I consider that a genuine miracle.”

The demon even starts to go slower, which Aziraphale appears to not be amused by, as he says, “Oh come now. If you’re the worst Hell has to offer, how much worse can they really be?”

Crowley challenges, “How many schools have they lamented over because I didn’t find the right one? 5? No, got to be 6.”

Aziraphale concedes, “I think you’re right.”

Crowley nods, then goes back to the glasses, “That one was where I finally sold them on using the wrong schools to get more training in, and a leg up on the assignment. Look, for the most part they leave me alone, but they refuse to shut up about sticking it to Heaven. Ever. They don’t care how it happens, they just want it to happen.”

Aziraphale informs him, “Heaven is exactly the same way. Now come.”, and when the demon doesn’t move, the angel points, all but ordering, “Out of the kitchen, fiend. Now.”

The demon almost wants to laugh at Aziraphale’s use of ‘fiend’, but thinks better of it, and just throws down the rag he was using, sighs, and follows the angel out of the kitchen.

Upon reentering the dining room, Crowley greets everyone, “Hello.”

The dark haired one snaps her fingers, pointing, “Sit, Master Crowley.”, and the red haired demon doesn’t argue, just does as he’s instructed, the angel not too far behind as he sits next to him.

“I haven’t heard any new updates on your assignment.” the dark haired demon starts, and Crowley’s quick to say, “I haven’t had anything to report, Lord Beelzebub.”, then points next to him. “This is Aziraphale. Former Guardian of the Eastern Gate.”

Aziraphale gives a polite wave, but says nothing as the ginger explains, “He apparently hasn’t had the foresight to train at other schools, like I have. He even seems to think it’s all fun and games. Don’t you?” He turns to Aziraphale, praying the angel will play along.

Which thankfully he does, the angel nodding, “Indeed. There’s such a rich history to being a butler, and so fascinating to be a part of.”

The other two demons snicker at this, while the white haired one notes, “Well isn’t that something.”

Beelzebub, as Crolwey had called him, asks, “And what do you expect to do as a butler if you were somehow to thwart demon Crowley? Lassst I heard you own a bookshop.”

The angel tenses at that, disturbed by the thought of demons knowing where he works.

“You’re not actually going to do it, are you?”

Aziraphale weakly replies, “I-I’d love to be able to work in a hotel similar to the Ritz. I’ve always had the highest respect for hotel workers, given how much time I spend in their restaurants.”

The whire haired one laughs even harder, “Oh this is practically handing the win right to us! No excuses for why you can’t win now, are there?”, looking at Crowley, who looks like he’d love nothing more than to discorporate on the spot.