Title: Re-Arrangement
Fandom: Good Omens (TV)
Rating: G
Pairing: Aziraphale/Crowley
Length: 383
Notes: Follows on from the dinner at the Ritz. Also for my bingo square, 'wings'. Bingo for me :D
Content notes: None!
Summary>: Crowley and Aziraphael discuss The Arrangement in the wake of a thwarted Armageddon

Re-arrangement

"So," said Aziraphale, looking over his ceviche of scallop with pleased anticipation, "I have my bookshop to occupy me, of course…. But what are you going to do with yourself now that you're no longer at the beck and call of Hell?"

Crowley shrugged languidly, gazing over at his dining companion. He hadn't entirely expected to make it all the way through Armageddon and its immediate aftermath so unscathed, and hadn't had the chance to give it too much thought. "Oh, whatever I like, I suppose." He grinned in response to Aziraphale's dubious frown. "Nothing you'd approve of, I'm sure."

"Hmph." Aziraphale picked up his utensils, looking back down at his ceviche with fixed interest. "Well, I was wondering, in any case, since we expect to be left alone, where that leaves…-" he glanced over bashfully, hesitating over his words "-…the Arrangement?"

"Ahhh," said Crowley.

"It doesn't seem necessary now, does it?"

"Not really, nah." He sipped his champagne. "We can both do what we like, no need to worry about checks and balances and all that. Bureaucratically speaking, I mean."

"Yes, right. It’s just it was rather convenient, wasn’t it? It kept us in touch."

"Really?"

"What?"

"The arrangement was a convenient excuse, Angel. We don't need one of those anymore either."

Aziraphale nodded, setting down his hands, scallop still untouched. "It was also, well, a framework? I suppose we did run into each other occasionally, but those were more coincidences...? No?"

It was Crowley's turn to look dubious. "You really are an idiot. You're lucky we're friends."

"Best friends?"

Crowley sighed, softening briefly under Aziraphale's hopeful look. "At least that. You won't get rid of me so easily."

"Alright then." He picked up his fork again, digging it daintily into his starter. "As for the rest," he smiled, wiggling his eyebrows playfully, and training his eyes expectantly on Crowley's face, "I suppose we’ll just have to… wing it!"

Sometimes Crowley made dramatic faces for the effect, but this was not one of those times – the cringe was absolutely genuine. "Did you just? I could still go off to Alpha Centauri you know – it really is nice this time of year!"

Aziraphale smiled as he swallowed his first bite, and lifted his glass. "But you won't."

Crowley shook his head, looking back out at the other diners. "No. I won't."