“Crowley’s Milk As Good as Any Better’n Some”
Aziraphale choked on his tea and looked at it again. “J.K. Crowley?”
It was an old carton. Early 1900s, if he had to guess. Aziraphale had gone through an old chest and found it there – thankfully void of milk. He had no idea how it had gotten there. He had probably spent more time than he should have staring at it. Enough time for someone to knock at the door for the third time.*
“Angel, what are you doing in there?” Crowley asked, letting the door open and pretending it hadn’t been locked the entire time.
There was no need to be embarrassed about it, but Aziraphale found himself pushing the milk carton off the desk and out of sight. The clatter was noticeable though. Crowley looked nonplussed.
“Am I interrupting?” The sarcasm wasn’t biting, but it was rather testy.
“No!” Aziraphale fixed his cup so it wouldn’t fall off the desk after the carton. “Not at all. Have you ever heard of… um, Crowley?”
“I think you put that sentence backwards,” Crowley pointed out, leaning against the door frame.
Aziraphale cleared his throat. “I meant… have you ever heard of Crowley Foods?”
The demon’s face twisted into a frown. “Don’t they do dairy or something like that? Cream?”
“Sounds about right.”
“What about it?”
It was then that Aziraphale realized he didn’t really have a rest of his sentence. He didn’t know why he had asked. Crowley wasn’t the only one with the name “Crowley”.** And what did the motto of a milk bottle have to do with anything?
“Nothing really. Just came to mind.”
Crowley continued to look skeptical, but then shrugged. “Let’s go out.”
“Oh, I must…” Crowley would hang around. Perhaps find the bottle. Aziraphale decided it was time to go. “Very well, dear. I’ll be a moment.”
He met Crowley out at the Bentley. The demon lounged against his car as though he was waiting for a photographer to snap a shot.
“Where to?” he asked Aziraphale as the angel locked his shop.
“Park? How about some ice cream? It’s the weather for it!”
“Good as any,” Crowley said, sliding into the driver’s seat.
Aziraphale sat down besides him. “And better than some.”
Crowley grinned at him, cheekily. Aziraphale’s cheeks went pink, but he said nothing more.
It was definitely time for ice cream.
*Aziraphale hadn’t heard the first two times, he was busy coughing. That was the bad thing of getting into the habit of breathing, choking was just as common.
**Though was he the first? Probably. He wasn’t likely to copy someone else’s naming technique.