1. Grin

Angels should not grin, Crowley feels.

It just doesn't seem right. They should just smile benevolently and kind of absentmindedly. The kind of smile that puts you at ease and makes you feel like they do not have the slightest clue about what's going on.
They should not give you knowing little grins that make your entrails fidget.
And they sure as hell should not look smug when they do.

Grinning is more in his domain. A 'devilish grin' – now that's a common expression. But who ever heard of an 'angelic grin'? It just doesn't fit.

And some people would do well to mind that. Because some people just behave irritatingly inappropriate.
And that's coming from him.
All right, yes, inappropriate is right up his alley, and in any other case he would welcome inappropriateness, but honestly: How is it supposed to be any fun, if there are no more clear-drawn lines that make crossing them so interesting? Point is … well, the point is, demons should be irritating. It's a fine and recommendable trait in them.
But angels, – no.

You have to maintain certain standards or how is it all supposed to keep from tumbling into utter chaos?
A delicate balance is to be preserved. Because balancing is challenging and thrilling; whereas stomping around in complete chaos, trying to add to the chaos, is just blunt and requires no skill at all. And it is really lacking in style.

So, grinning angels endanger the cosmic harmony.

And that is a demons-only job, too, thank you very much.

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It had been bad enough last time. In a weak moment he had given in to the angels constant pestering to accompany him to a concert he been looking forward to for months. Although he really wished he hadn't. Especially when he had seen the actual program. Making the most of it, he had decided that he would have to try and get some entertainment out of attempting to spoil the event that had been so longingly anticipated.

But when Aziraphale had wanted to buy tickets it had just been sold out. Since the angel refused to work little miracles only for self-indulgence he had just chided himself for not thinking of getting the tickets in advance and had already walked away when the cashier had suddenly called out to them and said that two reserved seats had not been claimed and if they were still interested.

Aziraphale had given him a surprised look. "Did you do that?"

He'd been indignant: "What!? You are going soft in the brain, angel. First you forget about getting the tickets and now you're even forgetting what it means to be a demon, apparently!"

There had been an amused tug at the angel's mouth-corners when he responded. "Oh, yes right. I must really be going soft." And shrugging, and still grinning, he had added: "Well it happens to the best of us."

That look he had given him. Smug. Definitely smug. No doubt about it.

So, yes. Maybe he had pulled some strings. So what? There was no reason for the angel to be smug about it, because he couldn't know it had been him. It could just as well have been the cashier's error. Hell, that was even more likely. Infinitely more likely.
It wasn't like it was typical for him to do nice things for others. Like it was in his nature or something. Because it very much wasn't.

He had been so annoyed that he had completely forgotten to complain all during the show, and had just sat there fuming silently to himself.

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And now this.

He knew how much time and effort Aziraphale had put into getting these delicate flowers to revive.
He knew because he had told him time and again that he should at least get rid of one pot, to teach the others a lesson and be done with it more quickly. But of course the old wuss hadn't listened.

Last night, the angel had presented them proudly as they had finally blossomed and when Crowley had commented that they still looked weak, he had decided to put them out the next day, because the sunshine would do them good for sure and the weather was finally stable.

What he had also mentioned, was that he had plans to go to the antique market tomorrow afternoon. And the next afternoon there had promptly been a fierce rain-shower quickly turning into hail.

So far so good. Those were the facts.

Why those facts had led a soaked Aziraphale to conclude that it had been Crowley who had gotten the flowers under shelter in the nick of time was beyond any sane or healthily insane demon to understand.

Crowley had been stunned. And deeply insulted. "What? I would never- I can't believe you're even suggesting that!"
And there it had been again: That smug grin. "Sorry. Stupid of me really." the angel had answered. But his facial expression had not matched the statement. "Well, I'm still glad someone intervened." he'd added and Crowley had felt thoroughly accused by the way he so pointedly said "someone" while looking him right in the eye. It had been impertinent, really.

So yes, all right, maybe he had rushed over to save the flowers from destruction. But it wasn't like that was the first assumption that should come to mind. Everyone walking by would be a better candidate. It was not like he made a habit out doing good deeds.

It was just that if he hadn't, then the angel would have been upset. And he would have had to deal with that. Not that Aziraphale let it show when he was upset. He usually only stooped to some kind of mild disappointment. But Crowley would have known. He knew him far too long not to. And it was just such a bother to see him upset. It had been a deeply selfish act, truly.

So there was no need to be like that. Grinning and such. It was unsettling.

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"Hey." There is a hand being waved in front of his eyes and he focuses on the angel.

"What?"

"I asked if you would care for a cup of tea while you're already here."

"Coffee, please." Crowley answers promptly.

The lips are curving upwards again when Aziraphale says: "Come on in then."

But that, Crowley realizes, is a smile. A genuine smile, filled with all the gentleness and cordiality of an angel.
Or a really good friend.
It is the kind of smile that makes it very hard to stay moody. So grumbling on only a little, more for appearances' sake, he follows inside.