“What do you mean you’re out of town?” Aziraphale asked into the receiver of his telephone. The device was quite old, much like the computer that sat beside it, working more as an expensive paperweight than its intended purposes these days. The angel had a thought several years back that he needed to upgrade his records keeping, and the invention of these delightful little electronic boxes seemed to fill that need. It held all of his tax related paperwork, both from years prior as well as for the current year. However, since it was only used once a year for only a few short months between April and October, that meant it sat unused the rest of the time, the once pristine white color beginning to yellow as it collected a fine coat of dust that dulled what was left of its shine.

“Just that, angel. I’m in…actually I don’t know where I am.” The voice on the other end of the call chuckled, the sound rather cheerful considering it came from a demon. “Had a temptation I couldn’t pass up. You know how it is'' Truth be told he was on the hunt for a rare book of prophecies.  ‘Tui bei tu’, or something along those lines.  The demon wasn’t entirely sure of the name as Aziraphale had only mentioned the tome in passing more than a decade ago.  A would be gift for his one and only friend.  The only remaining copy was last seen in  southern Louisiana at an old occult store. Not a true occult store, mind you. It had a horribly outdated, mysterious sounding name to draw in the curious tourists, and was decorated with gaudy brik- a -brac to try and sell the idea that this was one of the only true voodoo stores left in the French Quarter and not simply a way to part the tourists from their money. Crowley knew the moment he stepped foot inside the heavy mahogany door that this place wasn’t the real deal. Only thing he felt was the desperation and greed of the owners. Any spirits that resided here left long before the first coat of purple paint, which was now chipped away and faded by time, was applied to these walls.  

 Now, that was weird. After averting the apocalypse both demon and angel had distanced themselves from their respective ‘home offices’.  Weren’t they both ‘retired’ now, so to speak? “But….You don’t tempt. I thought you weren’t working anymore.”

 “Things happen.” A bit distracted, the demon picked up a heavy crystal skull and tipped it over to see the price tag underneath. A bit on the pricey side, however had it been made of true quartz, and not simply a resin cast of a mass produced mold, it would have been nearly twice that. “Short handed. Not enough demons for the current demand. Gotta outsource to…uh…. retired demons….That’s beside the point. Did you need something?”

 “Yes!” Whined Aziraphale as he plopped himself down into the plush rolling chair he kept by his business desk. The shop had several very similar desks, each for a different purpose. His favorite was the large one he kept for reading at the front of the store. Old, and the design was a bit outdated compared to the others.  However it had plenty of work space, every inch of which was stacked with books. And, most importantly, its location allowed him to hear the customers chit chat while he was lost in a good book. Then kick them out when he got to a particularly juicy bit. The desk he was at currently was located in the backroom where he kept his overflow stock. Very few people ventured in here, including himself and the demonic entity he called his best friend. “You’re supposed to be helping me with the Christmas ball. It was your idea.”

“You didn’t have to agree to throw it.” Crowley pointed out with a soft shrug of slender shoulders as he moved along to inspect a jar of… well, the snake wasn’t entirely sure. He couldn’t make out the label in the dark ‘mood’ lighting of the store. The combination of poor light, heavily tinted glasses, and terrible eyesight meant he was mostly walking around blind. Probably for the best. The likelihood that it contained anything genuine was very small. “And I said I’dl help. Once I get back to SoHo.”

 “And… when exactly would that be?” A touch of sass was in the ethereal being’s words. Crowley was usually there to help him in his time of need. Sure, it came with a few snarky words and a heaping helping of attitude. But, he knew he could rely on his demonic counterpart for just about anything.

 “Two days…Three tops.” 

 Another loud whine as the book enthusiast laid his head down on a tall, unsteady stack of dusty books. “It’ll take you that long?”

 “Shorter if this uh…..lead pulls through.” Crowley set the jar back down with a thud, causing him to look around the store to see if anyone had heard it.  Luckily, the shop was empty aside from him and a rather young looking man working as a cashier near the front door. “What have you done so far?”

 “Mostly just gift shopping for the tenants association members. I’m nearly done.”

 “I meant for the party, you idiot.” Honey yellow hues rolled behind Crowley’s dark glasses.

 “Oh!” Azriaphale sat up again, causing his stack of books to topple over. He had, indeed, done a fair bit of planning for this winter party. Lists, and quotes for various services all compiled together in a not so neat stack sitting on top of his desk….Which was on the other side of the bookshop.  However, the phone he was using didn’t allow him to move around as it was the very old corded type. “One moment, my dear. I need to get to the other desk.”

 “Upstairs, or downstairs?”

 “Down….Just….Just one moment, please.” There was a lengthy pause, filled only by the sounds of an angel trying to traverse his shop to get to his reading desk. This was the only problem with having more than one. Oftentimes he found himself at the wrong one for the things he needed. “There we are.” He snapped his fingers and the first receiver returned to its spot in the phone’s cradle. “Crowley? Are you still with me?”

 “Waiting with baited breath, angel.” Smirked the snake.

 A soft, shy smile tugged at Azriaphale’s lips. “Oh…Well, that isn’t necessary.” The tiniest of giggles escaped the ethereal being as he shuffled through his papers. Earlier that morning he had created a checklist, which he now needed to find.  “I did manage to set up a caterer, and order some of that wine you like.  Did you know just how expensive it is these days? Five hundred pounds a case! Just one case! It’s absolutely absurd.”

 “Aziraphale… Focus.”

 “Right. Yes…..My apologies.” After a bit more shuffling the angel found the paper he was looking for. “So. Caterer? Check. Wine? Check. Gifts?....Mmm….Nearly there. That get’s half a check.”

Crowley had managed to work his way through the shop in its entirety, and was now sorting through the collection of books this ridiculous place lovingly labeled its ‘Paranormal Library’.  Poorly made knock offs of true occult books, and random finds, with words like ‘grimoire’, ‘maleficarum’, and ‘necronomicon’ in the titles. Snake eyes rolled at the very obvious cash grab using what amounted to little more than fancy buzz words.  Perhaps he was a little bit jealous that he hadn’t thought of such an easy con. Then again, even if he did he would never admit to it.  Demon’s didn’t feel such emotions.  “And the rest?” 

 “.......” Mere silence from the bookshop in SoHo. 

 “Music? Decorations? Dumb party games?”

 “Oh! Yes, those.  I um….I have yet to secure a record man, I’m afraid. However, the party games are already decided. I found a lovely list of Victorian Christmas party games, which should work just nicely. And as for the decor….” Another lengthy pause. Not because Aziraphale was looking for some paperwork. No, this time what he searched for were words. He didn’t know how to say he wanted Crowley to help him pick out the decorations. It seemed like a delightful Christmas time ‘ritual’, for lack of a better word. In the winter rom-com movies he had enjoyed over the years, the romantic leads always did the shopping together, and it looked positively delightful. If this were indeed his own personal romantic comedy, as he liked to believe that it was, he wanted the pair of supernatural beings to do this together. As a couple, even if they weren't officially one.  He couldn’t admit any of this just yet. Chances were it would cause Crowley to grow flustered, throw a fit and refuse to help. “Well, of the two of us you have a better eye for modern designs, my dear…So… I was hoping you would be so kind as to help me in that department.” 

 “I’ll be back tomorrow. We can go then.” Nimble fingers ran over each and every book in the store's collection, taking note of the fact that while these books were indeed quite old they weren’t antique by any stretch of the imagination.  Nor did they hold any sort of supernatural energy, demonic or ethereal.  Most importantly, none of them were the one he was looking for. Which meant he had to interrogate the clerk. Lovely.  “…..Something’s come up. Call you back later.”

 “But Crowley! There was something else I needed.” He paused, waiting to hear the line disconnect while silently hoping his favorite fallen was still there. “Can you send me the name of that plant man you use? I believe you mentioned he lived here in England.”

 “Yea, he does....What do ya need him for?”

 Aziraphale wasn’t exactly good at lying. No angel was, to be honest. He had a terrible tell. Plus, he tended to make them unnecessarily over the top and elaborate. This time, he decided to try something different. Something subtle. “I wanted to get one of those lovely monstera plants for Mrs. Sandwich.” Not completely untrue. What he was looking to purchase was indeed a monstera. A variegated Thai Constellation monstera to be exact. Only, it wasn’t intended for the brothel owner. That’s where the little white lie came into play.  Aziraphale wanted to gift this particular rare plant to his beloved best friend, Crowley.

 “Not sure what she’d do with one.” The demon’s shoulders raised in a little shrugged, visible only to him and the shop clerk who was now watching him like a hawk as he wandered aimlessly about the store. With a snap of his fingers a little blue Post-It note appeared on the angel’s reading desk. ‘Wendal C. Jackson- plant guy. Manchester England’ was scribbled in Crowley’s nearly illegible handwriting, with an email address and phone number beneath it. “Text him, or email. Don’t call. He hates that.”

 “Ah. A millennial.”

 “You’d think, but he’s in his mid sixties…. I think” Crowley sauntered up to the clerk, radiating an aura that caused the poor mortal to quiver behind a wooden counter he wasn’t all that sure would protect him if the need arose. “Is that all, angel?”

 “Yes. Thank you, Crowley. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 “Ciao.” With a wide, toothy grin the snake ended the call and tucked his phone in the back pocket of his dark jeans. “Look at that. It’s just you and me, now. How fortunate....for me.” The grin widened menacingly. Snapping his fingers, the curtains on each of the windows closed in unison. At the same time the large front door closed with a bang, punctuated by the ringing of a bell that typically announced a new customer’s arrival. All of this set to the lovely sound of a demon’s chuckle as he slowly inched toward the now terrified shop clerk.  “Let's have a little chat, shall we?”