fandomtownies | Rare Books Shop, Wednesday

Rare Books Shop, Wednesday

Aziraphale is busily decorating his shop for the upcoming gathering on Saturday. In addition to the ornaments his friends made at the last party, he's moved some bookcases and set up a small electric train in the corner. A swag of greenery decorates the front of the counter, and there are several old-fashioned stockings hanging from the fireplace mantle.

In the window are two flyers: one for Friday's caroling and one for Saturday's gathering.

((Slowplay until late afternoon.))

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James, James, James...can we have a conversation one day without him coming up? I think I liked it better when you were on about that Nutter woman. At least she was dead and not bringing garlands and leaf abuse to you.

The angel blinked in surprise at Crowley, bringing his teacup down to rest on his knee. "Of course, dear boy. I...I'm so sorry. I thought you liked James."

He sits quietly for a minute, and then says, "What would you like to talk about?"

I like you more, angel. James...[he sighs]...he's lost his luster for me. What can I possibly do to him? He's yours, and you know it. Let's talk about this party of yours. I can, naturally, avoid it, yes?

There is possibly a hint of a pleased little smile when Crowley admits defeat on the issue of James Wilson. But it's quickly hidden by a sip of tea.

"Dear boy, I had hoped you'd be at the party. I've invited everyone. There's be food, and mistletoe, and games, and music." He gives the demon a hopeful look.

That sounds like right up my alley. [He snorts before he sips his tea] Shall I wear one of those grotesque holiday sweaters? Perhaps one that blinks and plays music when one hugs people?

"Only if you promise to actually hug people, my dear. Otherwise, what would be the point?" Aziraphale answered cheerily. "Perhaps something with angels on it. I'm going to wear my latest Secret Santa gift."

Oh for pity's sake. I'll not be hugging anyone, angel. And no sweaters. I'm flash...the best you can hope for is my red silk. [He takes a scone, biting and chewing slowly.] Or, I could brighten the shop with a festive hat. [He grins and chuckles to himself.]

"You could put a sprig of holly in it," Aziraphale points out. "And you look very nice in your red silk."

Foshizzle, angizzle. [He rocks forward, laughing hard.]

The angel blinks, wondering whether or not he's just been insulted. From the way Crowley's laughing, it's a definite possibility.

"Er...quite. So...you never said whether you like the decorations. I put up a stocking for you." He points to the row of stockings hung from the fireplace -- seven of them in all.

[Laughing hard, still, he waves his hand at Aziraphale.] Fine...fine...lovely.

[Struggling to compose himself, he finally sits up and takes his glasses off, wiping tears from his eyes.] Ooooo...I do love your face, angel. That's worth it, everytime.

A stocking, eh?

Sighing, Aziraphale shakes his head, a little bit exasperated but mostly used to the demon's humor at his expense.

"Yes, a stocking. For you, even. Although we'll have to wait and see whether anything other than coal shows up in it."

Coal is a perfectly legitimate gift, you know. The poor back in London used to find coal in their stocking to be quite the treasure. Kept 'em from freezing while they starved to death, you know. Right brilliant gift.

"Crowley, no one has ever been happy to get coal in their stocking. You probably would, though, just to be perverse." He pauses for a moment, and then says, "Perhaps I'll give you...fuzzy socks instead."

Did you just call me perverse? [He sips his tea, tucking his glasses in his pocket.} You're so sweet, angel.

"I do try, dear boy." Aziraphale smiled, tilting his head as Crowley slipped off his glasses.

"You will be here, then? For the party? I would...rather like it if you were."

Oh, I imagine there's no rest for a fellow like me, right? I'll be there. But I won't have fun. So you know. [He sniffs, and eats his scone.]

"Of course not. I wouldn't expect it. I was wondering, though...if you might be convinced to make some cranberry scones? For the party."

I could do that. For you. Would you like tarts too? Or would that be too posh? [He grins before sipping his tea.]

Chuckling, the angel replies, "I would be happy for you to make some tarts, if you like. As long as it won't cost me any favors, as I do seem to be rather racking those up lately."

And one day they'll come due, angel. As with everything, you must papy the piper. Or the demon, as it were.

"Of course, dear boy." The angel doesn't sound terribly worried.

"I'm going to hang mistletoe, you know."

That means there will be kissing, yes? Smooch under the poison pagan weed?

"That's my understanding. Where do you think I ought to put it? So that all your admirers will be able to find it." The angel looks rather mischievous.

Deep down, you really are a bastard, you know that, angel? [A smile might be playing at the very corners of his mouth.]

Re: AZIRAPHALE

a-phale.livejournal.com - 2005-12-16 13:50 (UTC) - Expand

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