It was a rainy day outside. You had been helping Aziraphale in his shop, helping him sort out his books whilst Crowley stood a few feet to the side, his arms crossed over his chest. Aziraphale currently had his head pretty much buried in a bookshelf, rummaging around the various signed copies and first editions of many famous, ancient diaries. Amongst his search, he had asked Crowley to hand him some random old diary. You didn’t really pay attention to the name.

“Where is it?” Crowley asked, looking around briefly. “Behind me.” Aziraphale answered. You looked between the two, one eyebrow raised. “Angel,” Crowley sighed. “The only thing I see when I look behind you is fifty pounds of ass.”

Saying the room went silent would have been an understatement. You, glancing between the two in shocked confusion, Aziraphale slowly pushing himself out of the bookshelf to stare at Crowley in utter disbelief and the man himself just standing there, his eyesbrows slightly raised in pure ’what? I was just saying the truth.’