The more time I spent in London, the more I liked it. Sure, there was lots wrong with it, many things I didn't like, but then again there were many more other things I didn't like about other cities. Like Paris, I hated all the lovey-dovey couples there. Sometimes I just wanted to shout (and had, on a few occasions) 'We get it, you're in love, get a room!' Also, the rising tension of the social classes. It made for lots of temptation opportunities, but was rather dangerous. Then there was Moscow, also experiencing internal conflict, still recovering from the fire…no, London wasn't great, but it was the best I had found so far.

It was in London that I ran into my old and dear friend–sorry, not dear, that was her thing–Aziraphale. I was strolling about, she was wandering around, when we literally bumped into each other. We both recognized the other, and began looking about us to see if anyone was watching. The risk was too great though. "Globe Theater. Wait till I leave. We'll be inconspicuous." Aziraphale whispered, taking off in the direction of the theater. I forced myself not to watch her, knowing that in such a big city in such a public place as the streets, other demons or angels could easily be spying on us.

I made my way to the Globe Theater; it wasn't too far, only a few minutes walk. I went inside to the main courtyard, and saw Aziraphale, who couldn't have been there for more than thirty seconds, buying snacks. She loved her food dearly, Aziraphale. That and books. She was terribly attached to the mortal pleasures. But then again, so was I; I loved sleeping, and I thought it was a travesty that the rest of the angels and demons did not sleep.

"Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune-" The actor on stage called out, delivering his lines, as I neared the angel. "I thought you said we'd be inconspicuous here." I said. Aziraphale turned to observe me in my Elizabethan outfit, which looked very similar to pretty much every other fairly wealthy man's, there wasn't much diversity in the clothing, with the odd droopy shorts, the tights, the sleeves with ruffles at the end. Except mine was black. I had grown my hair out again, not as long as originally, but still long. And I brushed it more, so it was more wavy than curly now. I also had a slight beard. And I was very pleased to know that I could get away with wearing my little black sunglasses again.

"Blend in among the crowds." I added accusingly as Aziraphale looked away, and I took the opportunity to look her up and down again, as I hadn't had much of a chance back on the streets. She had on a long gown that almost reached the floor-not quite, so as to make walking around outside easier. It was beige and yellow, with little patterns about the top and sides of the bottom of it. The waistline was high, in accordance with the time period, and the neckline was wide. Her hair was of a medium length, not long, not short, with the top sides twisted inward and combined in the middle, merging with the rest of the hair.

"Well, that was the idea." Aziraphale defended herself. I should have known the theater would be empty-it usually was. Aziraphale had most likely assumed that because she liked the theater, everyone else did, and therefore everybody else would jump at the chance to be there, however the rest of the world did not, in fact, usually share the same interests as the well-meaning angel.

Just then, Shakespeare himself called out, "Hang on!" causing the actor to stop his soliloquy, and began to jog over in our general direction. "This isn't one of Shakespeare's gloomy ones, is it?" I asked Aziraphale, fearing the answer. I sighed and tilted my head back dramatically, and more to myself cried, "No wonder nobody's here!" Aziraphale was having none of it though, not in the presence of one of her idols; if I didn't know better, I would say she was as nervous as a young school girl talking to her crush.

"Shh, it's him, it's him!" She whispered excitedly, shushing me, and ignoring my cries of protest. Shakespeare stopped next to us.

"Prithee, gent and lady. Might I request a small favor?" Aziraphale nodded enthusiastically. "Could you, in your role as the audience, give us more to work with?" If the man wanted more to work with from the audience, maybe he should consider writing something that wasn't utter rubbish and worth going to see, so there would actually be an audience I thought, perhaps a bit harshly.

Playing right into his little play, Aziraphale suggested giddily, "You mean, like when the ghost of his father came on, and I said, 'He's behind you!'"

Shakespeare must've loved people like Aziraphale, people who truly cared about his work, there couldn't be many. I was surprised Aziraphale hadn't just joined the company at this point. "Just so. That was jolly helpful. Made everyone on stage feel appreciated. A bit more of that!" He called out, now going over to his actor on stage.

"Good Master Burbage, please. Speak the lines trippingly." He told the poor man, who was clearly getting fed up. "I am wasting my time up here!" He exclaimed angrily. Aziraphale, being the, well, angel that she was, kindly called out, "No, no, you're very good!" Shakespeare pointed at her to support his cause. "I love all the…" Aziraphale continued, although drawing an awkward blank as to what she loved, and began gesticulating, as if willing the words she was looking for to materialize in front of her.

"Talking!" She shouted lamely. The actor wasn't buying it. "And what does your friend think?" He asked, referring to me.

Aziraphale was very paranoid. She rambled, "Oh, he's not my friend! We've never met, we don't know each other-" Before the angel could say something stupid, like 'We definitely haven't known each other for thousands of years!' I cut her off.

"I think you should get on with the play." I replied, smiling good-naturedly, although that didn't at all reflect my feelings; I was only saving face for my angelic companion.

Shakespeare gave a glance to me, and then back to his actor, saying, "Yes, Burbage, please. From the top." The actor straightened himself, and began the tedious delivery again. I internally groaned.

"To be or not to be. That is the question." He paused for dramatic effect. Aziraphale took the opportunity to shout, "To be! I mean, not to be!" I couldn't fathom why she was so excited, as the angel and I looked at each other simultaneously. She continued, and began gesturing, "Come on, Hamlet! Buck up!" She laughed gaily at the end. I quite nearly laughed myself at Aziraphale's antics.

The actor proceeded with his lines, and Aziraphale asked me quietly, "He's very good, isn't he?" never taking her eyes off of the stage. A sharp pang of something shot up through me. It was very odd, not a physical pain either, like when you get jabbed. I couldn't quite place it, but it wasn't good; I ignored it for the time being.

I decided to say something absolutely senseless then, that had nothing to do with the angel's posed question. "Age does not wither, nor custom stale his infinite variety." I said, sounding very poetic and wise in front of Shakespeare. (a/n: I have no idea what he was trying to say here lol I even looked it up and still didn't understand, so please excuse my bs attempt to explain it)

"Mmm." He uttered, nodding and getting out a book of his. "Yeah, I like that." He said, writing it down. I allowed the smallest of smirks to creep onto my face, knowing I had supplied the great Shakespeare with a line, and Aziraphale had not.

I began to walk around the angel, not far, more like circling. She sensed my impatience, however. She knew me too well. "What do you want?" She asked quietly still, so as not to disturb the performance.

"Why ever would you insinuate that I might possibly want something?" I in turn asked, very sweetly, taking my innocent, I'm-about-to-tempt-you-voice out. But of course, I couldn't get anything like that by the girl, as had been proved time and again. She stated, "You are up to no good."

I scoffed. It reminded me of all those centuries ago when she'd asked me if I was still a demon. "Obviously." I muttered. "You're up to good, I take it?" I responded, mirroring Aziraphale's stupidity. "Lots of good deeds?" I made my way back around the angel, whose eyes were still glued to the actor.

"No rest for the, well…good." She murmured distractedly. She finally managed to tear her eyes away from the theater to look at me. She said, "I have to be in Edinburgh at the end of the week."

"Oh?" I asked, slightly surprised that our assignments once again coincided, but not really, as they had many times before.

"A couple of blessings to do." Aziraphale clarified, glancing back at the actor again. "A minor miracle to perform." She frowned then, cute little worry lines appearing along her forehead and cheeks. "Apparently, I have to ride a horse."

I groaned at the thought of those dastardly creatures. "Hard of the buttocks, horses." I sympathized. "Major design flaw if you ask me." I hadn't had any hand in the horses I thought proudly. Returning to the topic at hand, I announced, "I'm meant to be heading to Edinburgh too this week. Tempting a clan leader to steal some cattle."

Aziraphale swallowed nervously, knowing where this was going. "Doesn't sound like hard work." She allowed cautiously, avoiding my eyes for a completely different reason than the play this time.

"That's why I thought we should…" I trailed off, hoping the girl would catch my drift. She looked at me. Her eyes widened a bit, if that was even possible, I could see she caught on. She looked like she wanted to protest, but also weary. I persisted, "Well, bit of a waste of effort, both of us going all the way to Scotland."

Here it was. The weak, pathetic, usually short objection to what I always proposed. "You cannot actually be suggesting…" She began. Oh Aziraphale, why must we play this game every time? Why couldn't she just discreetly agree for once, without lecturing me on the ethical flaws of our situation.

"What I infer…" The angel continued slowly, peeking at me out of the corner of her eyes. She was speaking so slowly, it was like she was just waiting for me to cut her off, to convince her that there was nothing wrong with what we were doing.

"You are implying." Aziraphale finished softly. I was tired of playing the angel's little game. I didn't cut her off, and I didn't voice what we were both thinking. Instead, I asked, "Which is?" wanting to hear the angel say it herself out loud, to acknowledge it.

"That just one of us goes to Edinburgh, does both. The blessing and the tempting." She obliged in a low voice, lest anyone hear that the saintly angel Aziraphale was doing something mildly unholy.

Now that I had heard the angel say it, I dropped it. "We've done it before." I stated calmly. "Dozens of times now. The arrangement–"

"Don't say that!" Aziraphale whisper-shouted. I had gone too far. If I wanted her to agree to my plan, I had to refer to our arrangement in the vaguest possible terms. Calling it something made it more real, more wrong.

I sighed, weary of this argument that we'd been having for over a millenia. "Our respective head offices don't actually care how things get done. They just want to know they can cross it off the list." Whenever I presented this argument, Aziraphale usually mumbled something about 'They do care' or 'They will check,' but not today. She said something else that genuinely surprised, and dare I say, touched me.

"But if Hell finds out, they won't just be angry. They'll destroy you!" Aziraphale and I looked at each other as she said this. She looked terribly worried, I had to admit. I had always assumed Aziraphale was against it for moral reasons. It had probably started because of that, and maybe it still was, but somewhere along the way, it had also become an issue for our safety, if Heaven or Hell ever found out. And seemingly, Aziraphale cared more about what Hell would do to me than Heaven to her.

I had to say something before I could let my mind dwell on that thought for too long. "Nobody ever has to know." I assured the angel patiently. Before she could give me any more objections, I offered, "Toss you for Edinburgh?" It took Aziraphale a considerable amount of time to decide what to do. She shook her head a few times, as if going back and forth, wrestling with her morality and fears. I won though.

"Fine, heads." She finally admitted curtly. She looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to flip the coin, which I did, and put it down on my hand.

"Tails. I'm afraid. You're going to Scotland." I said, the bearer of bad news. I thought it was funny though, as Aziraphale usually won the coin tosses. I had to turn my head and bite my lip to keep from laughing at her disappointment. I was a demon, after all.

"It's been like this every performance, Juliet." Shakespeare said loudly then, interrupting our conversation. "Complete dud. It'd take a miracle to get anyone to come and see Hamlet."

Aziraphale turned to look at me imploringly. She raised her eyebrows and looked at me with the biggest, widest eyes I'd ever seen, and their breathtaking blue color certainly didn't help either.

I wanted to say no. I really did, I hated most of Shakespeare's plays, especially this one, based off of what I'd heard. But when Aziraphale looked at me that way…I couldn't say no. I bet she could get me to do a lot of things, gazing at me that way, I was at her mercy. I didn't think she knew what she did to me though, which was a good thing.

"Yes, alright." I muttered. "I'll do that one. My treat." I said, voicing my concession. Agreeing to help the playwright was one of the best decisions I'd ever made. I wouldn't admit it, but I was elated to have been the source of Aziraphale's joy, as she smiled so widely and brightly at me, saying, "Oh, really?"

"I still prefer the funny ones." I said, turning away, before she could see the faint blush creeping up my cheeks. Blushing was her thing, dammit, but I could definitely feel the heat rising to my face.

I resisted sticking my tongue out as I made my way out of the theater, leaving Aziraphale to her play.