Everything is Tickety-Boo (Mostly)

Lazing on a Sunday Afternoon

Sunlight filtered through the dusty window beside where Crowley rested. Before he even opened Aziraphale's eyes and glanced out the window, he could tell that it was going to be a miserably nice day. He was awake, but he wasn't quite ready to get up. No problem, were it a normal day. However, today required that he meet up with Aziraphale at St. James park, and he didn't know what time it was. He didn't want to be late.

Crowley sat up and rubbed Aziraphale's eyes, yawning and feeling exceptionally groggy. Such were the affects of inhabiting Aziraphale's body, he supposed. He stretched, popped joints, and felt what seemed like 6,000 years worth of tension release in Aziraphale's back. He realized that maybe there was some truth in what he'd asked the angel on the bus the night before.

Crowley stood and retrieved shoes from the corner and shouldered on the coat he'd hung up the night before. He admired Aziraphale in the mirror for an unspecific amount of time that was definitely too long before he turned for the bedroom door.

Meanwhile, blocks away, Aziraphale awoke feeling unusually well rested. It had been a while since he'd actually slept, really. Sleep was more of Crowley's guilty pleasure. Aziraphale's, obviously, was food.

Aziraphale sat up straight and miracled on an outfit. It looked pretty much like any other of Crowley's ensembles, however this one sported a tartan collar. What could Aziraphale say? He thought the color was nice. He actually would have been more inclined towards yellow, however that, he knew, would attract unwanted attention from demons who knew Crowley's clothing tendencies. Anyway, Aziraphale was sure if he had chosen yellow, the demon might have wailed aloud once they met up.

The angel strode across the bedroom and entered the main room of the flat. His gait still needed a bit of tweaking, as he was unused to Crowley's longer stature. That wasn't the top of his worries at the moment, though, as the same from the night before had resurfaced. Aziraphale did his best to banish them as he rummaged for some semblance of food among the cold, personality-devoid flat. Discovering that the poor demon didn't even have the fixings for hot cocoa, Aziraphale miracled some and made himself a cup. Even though he was determined to stay in character for the entirety of the time he needed to, Aziraphale couldn't possibly go without something to eat, or at least drink, in the morning. It was his Achilles heel.

Crowley, on the other hand, had bypassed the kitchen and had made his way down the stairs into the book shop. He looked around, searching for any signs of damage in the bright, late-morning light. Not a single charred page, no ash dusted the ground. He wandered into the area where Aziraphale kept his writing desk and he was greeted by the sight of several thicker volumes of what looked to be children's books, all sporting the exact same shade of red. Aziraphale's mouth twitched as Crowley observed this new addition.

"Those are new," He remarked, slightly quirking an eyebrow. Oh, yes, Angel would certainly be thrilled. He didn't even have to examine the new books to know they were most likely first editions. Adam Young was a great gift giver, it seemed, and Crowley never thought he'd end up in competition with an eleven-year-old.

Aziraphale finished his hot cocoa and left the flat, locking the door behind him. It wasn't necessary, but he did it nonetheless. He sauntered down the stairs and onto the street below, where Crowley's snake-like eyes landed on the Bentley. It looked the same as always, which was a great surprise to the angel, considering he'd seen with his own eyes- not even Crowley's that time, his own two eyes- how great the explosion had been. Well, not great great, great as in big or impressive. Well, not impressive impressive, impressive as in- wait, why was he justifying his inner voice's word choice?

Crowley's mouth pulled into an uncharacteristic smile as Aziraphale hailed a cab to take him to St. James. While he certainly was capable enough to drive the Bentley, he didn't want to do so without asking. Plus, out of respect, he wanted Crowley to be able to be the first to drive his newly-resurrected car.