Aziraphale woke up the next morning to find the bed empty beside him and had a quick moment of panic before realizing he could hear Crowley, banging around in the kitchen. He stretched, shut his eyes and whispered a fervent prayer of thanks to Her, and headed out to see what was happening.
He found Crowley and Frederick, happily curled up together, making and drinking tea from a cup and a platter respectively, and poring through more of Aziraphale’s list. Aziraphale noted, briefly, that the snake looked delighted to have his favorite friend back. He took a moment to smile at that.
“You hated my zoot suit?” Crowley said indignantly.
“Oh, good lord,” Aziraphale said. “Yes, I didn’t think the cut suited you at all. But you said you didn’t want to know my opinions on all of your fashion choices.”
“Then don’t write them down, angel.”
Aziraphale sighed and got himself a cup of coffee. He had a feeling this was going to become a popular morning routine, a little good-natured ribbing and gentle mortification as payback for his crimes. He supposed he could support the idea.
Crowley flipped a few more pages in, and made a tsk, tsk noise with his tongue at what he found. “You lied about having a diary for your appointments!! I knew you were just flipping through a book that day on the phone!”
Aziraphale gave him a brief, long-suffering smile and sat down across the table. “Yes, it’s true, I did. I apologize.”
Crowley made a gesture that was a vague mockery of a priest’s gesture of absolution and continued to flip randomly. This was much too much fun to give up just yet. He read a few, turned the page, and then blinked and turned back again to the one he had just skimmed over.
“What does this mean?” he asked, puzzled. “It says, ‘Did not tell Crowley the truth about Frederick’s middle name.’”
Aziraphale stood up abruptly, brushed his hands off on his pants, and quickly carried his coffee out into the shop. “Well it’s time for me to start my day! Must go! Business to run!”
“Angel!” Crowley called after him. “I’m not going to drop this, angel! Come back here!”
Aziraphale unlocked the front door and did his best to create a bustle of energy and business to drown out Crowley’s enquiries. He smiled to himself as he did so, happy to have the manic chaos that was Crowley back in the shop, where he belonged.
It was the second first day of the rest of their lives, and he intended to make the most of it.