“Oh, Crowley, that man is mistreating his books!” Crowley muttered in a mocking tone, his hands held high above his head.
“Well, he was!” Aziraphale argued, his hands also raised in the air. “He handled them without gloves. He was gloveless, Crowley!”
“You’re gloveless!” Crowley spat back.
“Oh, I see we’re getting real clever with the insults now.”
“Crowley, you have to steal those books!” Crowley’s mocking tone rose as the police officer roughly pulled his arms behind him and cuffed his wrists. “You have to saaaaaaave them! Oh, dear! Oh, dear!”
“Okay, now you’re just being childish.” The police officer moved over to Aziraphale and did the same to him. “I do not sound like that!”
“Ooh!” This time, Crowley’s impression was a accompanied by a full-body wiggle. “Oh, my dear boy, look! These tarts look absolutely divine! Oh, and there’s prosecco to go with them!”
“Crowley!” Aziraphale huffed as the officer grabbed each of them by the arm and led them toward the car.
“Have a drink with me, Crowley!” The officer pushed Crowley into the backseat and he scooted over to the other side.
“Well, I didn’t hear you saying no!” Aziraphale accused as he sat down next to Crowley.
“Of bloody course I didn’t say no, you know damned well I’d do anything for you!”
Aziraphale’s face softened.
“No!” Crowley scolded as Aziraphale began to smile. “No, no, no, do not turn this into a moment!”
“Oh, darling.” Aziraphale leaned over and pecked Crowley on the cheek. “Shall we go home?”
“Ugh,” Crowley mumbled. “Fine.” With that, time stopped, and it only took a couple of quick miracles to ride themselves of the cuffs and unlock the car door.
They began making their way back to the bookshop (with a quick stop to acquire the abused books) and Crowley didn’t even protest when Aziraphale took his hand in his own. “I’m still mad at you,” he grumbled.
Aziraphale smiled. “I love you, too, dearest.”
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