rather inexpert seduction
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Crowley’s in love with one of the Good Guys.
And the Good Guy in question adores butter tarts with an unseemly passion. Enough to speak wistfully of them when they aren’t around. Enough to ask Crowley to drive at ridiculous speeds across miles of English countryside to storm a bake sale, taking no prisoners. Enough to devour the butter tarts on the way home, leaving crumbs on the seat of Crowley’s car (the car hadn’t minded terribly, which was unusual in itself). And enough to leave one for Crowley, saying archly, “Perhaps after you actually try it, you’ll understand.”
Crowley is now glumly staring at this butter tart, letting its flavour spread across his forked tongue, and thinking: How do I become a butter tart?
Crowley decides this is the time to really make a play for Aziraphale's heart. And, being an absolute idiot, he decides the way to do it is through his stomach. Sort of. Highlights: self-indulgent narration, unusually obtuse demons, increasingly confused angels, and a deliciously happy ending.