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Aziraphale sat in the coffee shop and awaited Crowley, his pastry and cocoa on the table in front of him. He took a sip of his cocoa and stared idly out the window. Crowley always was rather put out when he started eating without him- although the angel couldn’t imagine why. Nevertheless, he refrained and merely took an occasional sip of his drink instead. He didn’t have to wait for his dinner companion for long, as he heard his Bentley screech to a halt in the street behind him. The angel smiled as Crowley thundered through the coffee shop and sat down in the chair in front of him with a flourish.
Oh. That’s new.
”Uh-.” Aziraphale blushed, starting to say something that he didn’t know how to finish.
Crowley had a new look. Nothing about that was particularly strange, as the demon always managed to stay with the times in terms of fashion, but he had managed to do something that he hadn’t done in the six thousand years that Aziraphale had known him. He had two piercings, one on each side of his lip, right where his fangs would meet his lip if the demon had them out.
“What.” The demon deadpanned in his unamused way.
”Ah. Um-. I-.” He was at a loss for words. He was never at a loss for words. He cleared his throat and tried again. “You- ah- you h-have a new look?” The angel found solace in his cocoa and took a long sip. The demon stared him down.
”Undercover.” Crowley waved away the question. The demon’s drink was handed to him then, and Aziraphale smiled at the barista reflexively. He chugged down the drink, and the shine of his piercings made Aziraphale whine softly into his drink.
“Mmm-might I ask you a question?” The angel fiddled with his pastry. Oh bugger, he must be absolutely crimson now.
The demon grunted in acknowledgement and Aziraphale continued.
”Do they-?” He cleared his throat.
”Do they what, angel? ‘Mnot a mind reader.”
”Do they- well, don’t they get in the way?” He pointed waveringly to his own mouth, hoping that he wouldn’t need to elaborate. He was very flushed, and licked his bottom lip to wet it before he realized it.
”Way of what? I don’t eat like you do.” The demon furrowed his brow at the uncharacteristically flushed way that his angel was speaking to him.
”N-No!” The angel huffed a laugh. “Not- not that! Um. Your fa-fangs, dear.”
“Not really.” Crowley retracted his fangs to prove it, and the fangs caused the piercings to jostle only when he worried it between his fang and his lower lip.
“Guh.” Aziraphale damn near felt his brains leaking out his ears. He took another sip of his cocoa to stabilize himself, hoping his friend wouldn’t notice that it was almost empty. It didn’t work. “I-um. I suppose?”
”Right. Had to get ‘em done for work. Don’t mind ‘em. Problem?” His demon spoke bluntly, and the fact that he even thought that his piercings would be a problem made Aziraphale cry out a denial before he could censor himself. Crowley blinked back at him, and the angel realized that he might have spoken too loudly.
“No.” He repeated, softer but no less desperate. “I-I didn’t say that. I’ll get used to it.”
Could he get used to it? What if his dinner companion decided to keep them? He was a wreck already. Aziraphale felt something shift under him. Does he like that? How did he not know?
He stuffed his face filled with the pastry, eager to occupy his mouth before it embarrassed him again. The angel didn’t make any of the usual dinner noises he liked to make, and the pastry was too dry, so he swallowed it down with the rest of the cocoa. Crowley didn’t say anything for a moment, and it made Aziraphale shift in his seat. He took another sip.
”Th’ cup’s empty, angel.”
”Oh!” He exclaimed with a forced chuckle and a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “It- It is, yes.”
“Are you sure you’re-?” Crowley’s tongue flicked out to one of his piercings again. His nostrils flared around a scent he caught in the air. The demon paused, a look of realization causing dread to swoop in Aziraphale’s stomach.
”Busy! Yes, busy. Filing. Um. The customers are quite good at keeping me on my toes, my dear boy.” The angel panicked, sweat starting to bead at his brow.
He was practically panting, ignoring the demon calling out after him.
He didn’t even say goodbye.
He left his pastry.
Oh, fuck.