An angel and a demon were having dinner at their current favourite restaurant, discussing all the various ways they had been discorporated.
"How'd you do the hippo thing then?" Crowley demanded, taking a brief sip of his excellent wine. "I mean, once, yeh maybe, but twice?" he gave the angel a penetrating look, remembering clearly the smug smile on Aziraphale's face as the beasts jaws closed over him. "I never worked that one out. I owe you a discorperation for that, the smell of their breath will never leave me," he held his hands up to try and stop the memories progressing. "Urgh!"
"A craftsman never reveals his secrets, my dear," Aziraphale grinned; taking a sip of what he had assumed from the price was a new form of white wine. He spit the liquid back into his glass and glared at it in betrayal. The damned stuff was water.
Crowley predictably hooted with laughter at his friend's reaction. He'd been waiting for the angel to discover what 'Fillico' actually was, and the angel did not disappoint. What a face!
"But it costs $73 a glass!" the angel gasped.
"Yeah, and it's not the most expensive designer water on the market," Crowley grinned. "Famine did a number there. They sell air in canisters now too, can you believe."
"What, just ordinary air?" the other man shaped entity glared into his glass, conjuring up a contrite Moscato sweet white to go with his creamy seafood risotto.
"Probably, but it's labelled as Mountain Air, or Arctic Fields In Mid-Summer Air or whatever. Can I have a taste of that?" and Crowley picked up Aziraphale's wine glass then took a sip. Hmm, no, he wound stick with his Chardonnay. "Hey, remember that time I was drowned in a vat of wine by Empress … what was her name?" He cut into his roast chicken and chewed thoughtfully. "Wu, that was it. Didn't pay to be a eunuch in that court I can tell you."
"She was an interesting woman, very strong, very capable. She drank the wine after, along with her ladies. Kind of her to share, I thought."
"And was I a good vintage?" the demon smirked.
"Dear, you were divine," Aziraphale smiled. And the drowning wine had been, once you fished all the bits out of it. Which reminded him,
"Remember that time I ate you?"
The waitress at the next table spilled the drink she was pouring into her clients lap and Crowley spat some of his dinner across the table. He had to take a larger sip of his wine to get his composure back.
"Angel, don't just say things like that," the demon admonished.
"Well, I did eat you,' Aziraphale claimed innocently.
Crowley gave a grunt as he took another mouthful of delicious bird. "How can I forget," he muttered when he had finished chewing. "It was one hell of a chase, I'll give you that."
"Indeed. I've never taken cat form again, but in a way I wish I had. Such agility, such flexibility, such grace!"
"Such bloody sharp teeth," Crowley snapped. Now that he was remembering the incident, he really didn't care for it. 'Go and cause some trouble on the Ark,' they said to him. 'It won't be hard,' they said to him. 'Oh, and mind the blood thirsty angel keeping a sharp lookout for misbehaving rodents,' they failed to say to him. Sodding higher-ups.
"I always felt I've had a little demon in me ever since." Aziraphale continued.
Crowley eyed his companion as the angel primly placed his knife and fork in the middle of his plate, indicating he was finished with his meal. Oh, he could pull innocence off nicely, that one could, but Crowley knew his ways.
"Ssstop trying to use double-entendres," he scolded him sternly, only the tiniest of grins escaping round the corners of his mouth. "At least until after desssert."