Oh, Dear Friend

"Do you ever miss it? Making stars, I mean."

Crowley looked back up at Aziraphale. "Sometimes. I can still do it, I just, you know, it's not the same."

A curious smile crept to Aziraphale's lips. "You can?" he inquired.

"Well, yeah. It's not a big deal really. Here, I'll show you. For old time's sake." The demon laid down his cup and got to his feet. He spread his arms, wiggled his fingers, and a ball of brilliant orange light lit up the room. It was tiny, but it Aziraphale admired it all the same. "Do you have a favorite color?" Crowley asked.

"Oh, uh, not - not exactly." Warmth spread to his cheeks. "I do really like the color it is now, though. Very pretty."

Crowley shrugged. "Alright then, I'll show you mine."