Netflix and cake. ((for sauntered_downward))

[sohoangel]

Continued from here.

Crowley arrives at the bookshop quickly enough that Aziraphale still has his phone out, staring at the screen in consternation. Their conversation took a turn for the weird at the last moment, a fact that he's continuing to puzzle over. Was it something he typed? After his g-word gaffe, he had been more careful with his texts. Was it his opinion of the statue in Crowley's flat? He didn't insult it, what was the problem?

The knock on the door startles him. He hurries over to answer it, taking a moment to compose himself. When he answers, he has his usual smile for Crowley. Much brighter, these days, now that they see one another more frequently without fear of the repercussions if they're caught.

"Yes, I ordered the crisps you like," he says without preamble, gesturing him to the back room. "Make yourself comfortable, and can you set up the program on the television while you're at it? I'll fetch the wine."

It's a small set, resting on a table opposite the sofa, but it is a flatscreen. Hooray for progress?

Comments

[sauntered_downward]

Crowley's own flat has a huge flatscreen TV, almost always set to some garbage reality TV. Since his invention of reality television, he's watched it pretty regularly to remind himself of his own brilliance. Also, it's hilarious. As for the Great British Bake Off, which he promptly sets up on his own Netflix account, it's something of an almost-reality-show but mostly heartwarming show that involves a lot of cooking. He can't really complain, it's a little of what he likes and a little of what Aziraphale likes.

He places two slices of cake, purchased and packaged, on the table across from the sofa. Because, of course he's picked up the cake for the angel. He might even steal a bite of it himself after a few episodes.

"I brought lemon buttercream and something chocolate. Ganache, I think? It had strawberries on the big cake, just got a slice of it, though."

[sohoangel]

"Sounds wonderful!" Aziraphale calls back from the small wine cellar where he's looking over their options. He pulls out a cabernet sauvignon to pair with the chocolate and a dry sparkling for the lemon buttercream, then returns to the back room and sets both bottles and a pair of glasses next to the cake.

"Take-out should be ready soon and then I can pick it up." And by pick it up, he means miracle it directly to the table. The staff will have vague recollections of someone coming to pick up the order, and the money left in their till will include a generous tip.

He sits down and gets to work on opening the sauvignon. The television gets a brief glance; mostly he's interested in the slices of cake. The impulse to thank Crowley again builds in his chest, but he successfully stifles it. He settles for giving his friend a fond smile instead. "Ready whenever you are."

[sauntered_downward]

Crowley doesn't need the thanks, not really. He likes doing things for Aziraphale, not that he'd ever admit it even under extreme torture and duress. No, the angel's little pleasures in life are part of what make the world worth being in. Aziraphale's smile----well, that's more than worth it.

And, besides, it's just cake and a bit of Netflix.

"All right," he says. "Should we just start with episode one? Biscuits week, it looks like. The next episode is when they start on the cakes, it looks like."

[sohoangel]

Yes, just cake and a bit of Netflix. This time. There's all the other times, the big and little moments, that keep piling up in Aziraphale's mind whenever Crowley does something nice for him. He'd always thanked Crowley -- or tried to, anyway -- but the depth of his appreciation was almost an unconscious thing. Now he's hyper-aware of it. During week leading up to the Armageddon That Wasn't, he had learned a hard lesson about friendship and loyalty, and part of him was still ashamed about how far he fell short.

He'd make it up to Crowley. He wanted to, very badly, if only the demon would let him.

"No, let's start with cake." He means the television program, but once he has the wine poured and a full glass passed over to Crowley, the thought of that slice of chocolate cake is too much to resist. He hesitates a moment, then unwraps it anyway. Life is uncertain, eat dessert first. He saw that on a sidewalk blackboard once.

He takes a pleased inhale of the chocolate-y goodness, then spears off a bite with his fork and pops it into his mouth. Oh, that is very good. "The contestants are going to have some stiff competition," he comments after a satisfied swallow.

[sauntered_downward]

Crowley gives Aziraphale a small smile. There's something wonderful about Aziraphale's love of food. Crowley has never really shared it, never really understood it. Oh, he's had meals that have been lovely with Aziraphale before, but he's never enjoyed them quite the way that the angel has. It's his love for these things that keep Crowley running out to get cake and takeaways and into restaurants with him. It wouldn't be the same otherwise.

"All right," he says, flipping it on. The familiar chime of Netflix fills the room, and Crowley takes a drink of his wine.

"Can't imagine it's more drama-filled than the Bachelor," he says. "Because that---now that is something to get the blood pumping."

[sohoangel]

Aziraphale catches that smile and returns it, uncertain but appreciative all the same. he knows Crowley doesn't care much for food, not like he does. And yet he shares meals with him anyway.

Another thing he'd like to thank him for.

He takes another small bite of chocolate cake, gives a satisfied hum of approval, then sets it aside. It'd be ridiculous to eat it before they've even started the show. He settles onto the sofa, somehow exuding a relaxed aura despite sitting as prim and proper as ever. This is nice. He enjoys eating out, but these moments in the back room of his shop, just him and Crowley, he treasures even more.

"Is it now?" He has no idea what the Bachelor is, other than something to watch on television. Turning to look at Crowley rather than the screen, he asks curiously, "What's it about, then?"

[sauntered_downward]

"Oooooh, one single bloke and a bunch of drama-heavy women competing over who gets to go on a date with him," Crowley says. "Usually involves a bit of catfighting and a lot of lying. You really wouldn't like it." Crowley, conversely, loves it. He has been known to post to various forums what his opinion on the most recent episode is and has gone in on several betting pools in Hell when things got particularly heated.

"But you go for the---" Wait, he's got this one, "---Austen movies."

[sohoangel]

Crowley's right, he really wouldn't like it. The description of the show alone has him twisting up his mouth as if his sip of sauvignon had turned to vinegar. "Why on Earth," he says, more dumbfounded than disgusted, "Does such a show exist? It makes a mockery of the entire process of dating."

He shakes his head, returning his gaze to the baking show in front of them. But then Crowley comments on his preference for Austen movies, and he smiles softly to himself. He was paying attention.

"Yes, that's right." He takes another long sip of wine. "They're about real romance, you know. Even within the constraints of marrying for social mobility and financial security, the women do manage to meet men that they actually love."

[sauntered_downward]

Crowley grins. "I'd like to say I invented those, but I can't. They're all the humans. Creating their own sort of chaos and watching it for the joy of seeing others being stupider than they are. Real hits with the demons, too. Personally, I was always rooting for Colton, but he kept hopping shows so much it was tough to keep track of what he was up to."

He listens to Aziraphale's description of the Austen movies and makes a face not unlike the one his angel companion just made.

He considers this for a moment. "Though, really, if you think about it, that's not much different than the Bachelor. Social mobility and real romance with just a touch of catfighting. Any catfighting in the Austen movies---errr....books?"

[sohoangel]

He was half-hoping that Crowley would take credit, it's genuinely depressing when humans debase themselves in such a way, all on their own. "Who's Colton?" he asks, trying not to let Crowley run off with the conversation and leave him struggling to keep up. "Was he the gentleman in question?"

Stifling a giggle at the expression Crowley makes, he takes another sip of wine. Excellent vintage, this one. "No, no, they're nothing alike," he insists after a hurried swallow, although Crowley's question does give him pause. "Well... well, actually, in Pride and Prejudice, there's a rather cruel woman named Catherine who tries to interfere with Elizabeth marrying her nephew, Mr. Darcy. There's a confrontation between the two women towards the end of the novel, but it's all verbal. Oh! And there's a scene earlier in the book where Elizabeth gives Darcy a true dressing-down. Not what you meant by catfighting, I know, but it's highly entertaining. I imagine Austen took great pleasure in writing that."

[sauntered_downward]

"Yeah, he's the bloke. But he's been in all sorts of things, all sorts of different reality bits. He was in the Bachelorette, Paradise, then eventually in the Bachelor, but he was all over looking for love." Or, as Crowley thought of it, 'love'. It was reality-TV love, which was very different from real love.

"Sounds a bit like in 2017, with Corrine," Crowley agrees, taking a sip of his own wine. Ooooh, not a bad year at all. "Now, she was a real childish one, got into it with everyone, but in episode four, she got into it really bad with Vanessa. A couple of the girls tried to tell Nick---that was the Bachelor that season---but he wouldn't listen, he voted two different girls off, then took everybody to his hometown, like nothing was wrong. Now that, that was entertainment."

[sohoangel]

"Well? Did he?" Aziraphale asks. He's genuinely curious, although that might partly be a defense mechanism so he doesn't have to dwell on the fact that there are more reality dating shows out there.

That sounds nothing like Pride and Prejudice, but he'll humor Crowley for the time being. He listens closely while he drinks from his glass, brows furrowed as he tries to follow along. Do you see how hard he's trying, Crowley? "So... what happened later? Was Corrine's duplicity revealed? Was she, ah... voted off?"

[sauntered_downward]

"No, no, angel, they don't really find love on these shows, they just find fame, and a bit of action for a bit," Crowley says. "I mean, sometimes they do. There was one Bachelor...when was it? Last year, I think? Two of the ladies on the show just up and left with each other. Decided they didn't want to play anymore, they were just in love. You'd have liked that bit, I think. When reality gets actually real. Hell hated it, nobody likes it when they're actually in love."

Crowley sniffs and thinks about it. "Corrine was voted off week...8, I think? Vanessa was the winner, actually. So it is a bit like your Austen bit. Main character versus the baddie and all that, good girl wins the guy. Don't actually know what happened to them. Corrine went on to Paradise later."

[sohoangel]

"They... really? Went off with one another, just like that?" It's the last thing he expected to hear, and it touches him deeply and unexpectedly, these two women turning their backs on the game and finding something real and meaningful with one another instead. With a soft smile, he looks down at his wine glass. "Yes, I imagine that wasn't Hell's cup of tea."

He wets his lips on the edge of the wine glass, but doesn't drink. He wants to ask what Crowley thought of it, and he almost works up the nerve to do so, but by then the demon has moved on to Corrine's story. Another victory, at least on the surface, but this doesn't move him in quite the same way.

"It does sound like Austen," he agrees quietly. "Reality shows are somewhat scripted, aren't they?" He glances at the television, where the contestants are working on their creations for the first round of judging. "Or at least heavily edited. So like a story in that respect."

He sets aside his glass and reaches for the cake again. "Would you like to try a bite now?" he offers. "While you're having the wine."

[sauntered_downward]

Crowley eyes the cake suspiciously. He always likes to pick foods he thinks that Aziraphale will like, but he's never had the palate the angel does. However, he does like eating things when Aziraphale does, it feels more...companionable. Like they're sharing something together. He picks up the fork and tries a small bite from the frosting side. The frosting is, of course, the best part.

"So what happens in the Austen stories?" he asks, taking the bite. Oh, but this is good. "You said there's romance and something about financial security but what does that mean, exactly? Are they marrying for money or something?"

[sohoangel]

Aziraphale likes it too, for the same reason. He knows that Crowley does not share his passion for food, so when he's willing to sample something, especially off of Aziraphale's plate, it make whatever that food is even more special.

"Chase it with a sip of wine," he suggests. He takes back the fork and has another bite -- also frosting side, because that is the best part. "Yes. Well, something like that. They're looking for husband who can provide them a comfortable lifestyle. They're courted and go courting, but it's usually arranged by families. It was the Regency Era, Crowley. You don't remember any of this? We lived through it."

[sauntered_downward]

"I think I slept through most of it," Crowley says with a little scowl. "Isn't that where we had to wear all those vests and such? I remember it being really hot."

He chases the cake bite down with a little wine and he has to admit, Aziraphale knows his food. This is quite good. If there's one thing Crowley can always count on, when he's having a bad day, if he asks Aziraphale where to go to eat he'll a) thrill the angel, and b) have a fantastic meal. No doubt.

"So they're looking for a rich husband---not unlike the Bachelor, might I add---but they don't want to get it arranged by their families so they're courting and such. And then, what? Lucky them, court the right bloke? Money and love or something?"

[sohoangel]

Aziraphale puts a hand on his waistcoat self-consciously. "Something like that," he mutters, before taking another sip of wine. "Sorry. I forget sometimes that you weren't always around."

He's gotten spoiled about the amount of time they spend together these days. Sharing food or alcohol, talking about all sorts of things. The frequency hasn't diminished how much he enjoys it, every time Crowley rings him up and suggests they go somewhere, or vice versa. Hopefully Crowley won't take one of his infamously long naps again. Or if he does, at least leaves a note for Aziraphale first, so the angel doesn't worry.

"In the novels, they get both. In real life, I'm not so sure. That was the whole point of Austen's novels. Women -- and the men, too, to a lesser degree -- couldn't just run off with whomever they liked. They had to take into account that person's social standing, as well." He frowns to himself. "It's much better now for humans. At least the ones around here. I don't understand why they'd want to be on a show with silly rules designed to cause drama."

[sauntered_downward]

"That's all right, angel, I often forget the same," he says, taking another sip of wine. "Hard to believe we went centuries without seeing each other at first."

Now, he probably doesn't go more than a day or two without at least texting Aziraphale. Being apart from the angel just feels...well, certainly a lot less fun than being with him. Turning on a show on Netflix and having a glass (or several) of wine and just enjoying their time together.

"I never understood humans' obsession with social standing. They have it now, to a different extent. They've got the selfie, which I took credit for but didn't even have to invent. Total social construct."

[sohoangel]

That admission brings a smile back to his face. "You know, I... I always liked it when you popped up. Even that one ridiculous time that we were both knights." He chuckles a little at the memory. "There I was, trying to track down the infamous Black Knight, and it was you the whole time. I wish I hadn't been so short with you then, it would have been nice to catch up."

Of course, they didn't have Netflix back then, but Aziraphale's barely paying attention to the show anyway. It's just a good excuse for Crowley to come over and keep him company.

"I understand why," he says thoughtfully. "They want to be liked. I suppose that could be construed as vanity, but they're social creatures. Their connections are all they have." He glances at his phone, sitting innocently on the table and waiting to let him know when the food he ordered is ready. "Have you ever taken a selfie?"

[sauntered_downward]

"Yeah, I might have pouted a bit after you left," Crowley admits. "I had told my minions----" he looks over to Aziraphale, "---and they liked being called minions, mind---that you were all right and to expect you and all, and off you go in a huff of being all righteous and such."

Crowley turns his attention to the Netflix show for half a minute, where the team is working on traybakes. They're all so complicated, one of them doing a cardamom coconut bake, another one doing an orange truffle sort of bake----meh, they're not all that interesting to Crowley. The narrator starts on with the drama about how each of them could fail, and that is interesting, at least.

"Of course," Crowley says, pulling out his own mobile. He shows his contact page for himself, which features a selfie he took. "Not you, though?"

[sohoangel]

Oh, now he feels genuinely bad for the attitude he gave Crowley. "You were pestering me with the Arrangement," he says in his own defense. "It took me at least another hundred years to even consider the idea." Of course, it turned out to be the best idea that Crowley had ever had. They wouldn't be sitting here, together, otherwise.

He eats another bite of cake in the silence. The ones on television look good, but they can't compare to the real thing.

"Oh, look at you," he says delightedly, peering at the screen. Crowley's question makes him shake his head sheepishly. "I tried once," he admits, "But I couldn't figure out what angle to hold it. It was when I was at Kew Gardens. Remember the picture I sent you? I wanted to put myself in it with the flowers behind me but I couldn't make it work."

[sauntered_downward]

"Oh, it's not so hard," Crowley says. "Here."

He flips his mobile to camera mode and offers it to Aziraphale. He scoots in a bit closer to the angel and gestures.

"Hold it up a bit more, but keep your arm out, gets the whole torso area. When you hold it a bit more centered, you can get us both in frame, see?"

Crowley's mobile, of course, has the front-facing camera, so Aziraphale can see what he's about to photograph.

[sohoangel]

He blinks when Crowley holds out his phone, then puts down the slice of cake in a bit of a fluster so that he can take it. "All right," he says uncertainly, then smiles a bit when Crowley scoots closer to him. "Can't be out of the shot, can you?" he jokes, but not-so-secretly, he's rather pleased by the gesture.

It takes a while for him to find the right angle that gets them both in frame, his face one of utter concentration. He leans back a little in Crowley's space, and only when it's perfect, does he smile for the camera.

"Cheese!" he says, because that's what you're supposed to say when you take a photo, and presses the button.

[sauntered_downward]

Crowley has seen a lot of selfies. Especially when trying to explain the selfie to Hell, he had to create a few PowerPoint presentations on the subject. So he's seen a lot of selfies of friends, boyfriends, girlfriends, all taking pictures together. Crowley has never taken a selfie with someone else before and he wasn't aware how close one really had to be to get into the shot.

It's pretty nice, actually.

Crowley poses, because of course he does, with a little bad-boy pout that's one of his favorites for selfies and shows off his cheekbones a bit. Aziraphale's just about got it, he thinks, and then the angel has the desire to say 'cheese'. Crowley loses the pose and glances at Aziraphale with a look that is equal parts incredulity and amusement.

And like that, the first photograph of Aziraphale and Crowley, two companions for over 6000 years, is taken.

"Who says 'cheese' when taking a selfie?" Crowley says.