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Summary
It would be a gross understatement to say that Crowley simply didn't like Aziraphale. He was posh and stuffy and arrogant, and Crowley couldn't figure out why everyone else in the program liked him so much. It hardly mattered; they were competitors, and Crowley didn't need to make friends to become a surgeon.
It takes several unleasant encounters, the excessive use of house plants as a coping mechanism, and getting stuck in an elevator for Crowley to start reconsidering his priorities.
Or...
Crowley and Aziraphale are surgical interns with competitive streaks a mile wide each, and they really do not like each other at all.
Until they do.(This whole fic is pre-written and completed, and updates will usually be weekly on Saturdays!)