Just Deserts

Crowley had passed a thoroughly enjoyable day in Santa Barbara (by making sure that any number of people had not ). Sharing a glass of wine with Aziraphale (who was in California strictly to balance Crowley's presence, as they'd both recently decided the Arrangement required) seemed the perfect cap to the evening. When he heard the shrieking, he knew it was only going to get better. He looked around, quickly spotting the source of the commotion.

"Oh, look, Aziraphale," he said, not bothering to disguise the glee in his voice: "Someone's having a seizure."

The angel gave him a disapproving look over the top of those ridiculous spectacles he insisted on wearing.

"And all those people have just decided to stand around and do nothing? Really, Crowley!"

"I'm not doing anything!"

"I refuse to believe tha-- oh. Never mind. He's faking."

"Well, that's disappointing."

"He's pretending to be psychic." Aziraphale sniffed. "I can't say that I approve."

"No? Hmm." Crowley made a complicated gesture with his fingers under the table. "Well. That's taken care of, then."

"What did you do?!"

"Look, angel, you're the one who --"

"Crowley!"

"Well, let's just say he's not faking any longer."

~Fin~

Notes: I really have no excuse for this. I just couldn't get the scene out of my head.