Rome

Aziraphale remembered when the fountain was first renovated. While he remembered it clearly, he didn’t remember what it had looked like before then. It wasn’t a work of art then. Now it was and it would remain as such for however long people continued to think fondly upon it.

“Crowley, don’t take the coins from the fountain,” he begged.

“Stealing is what I do,” Crowley retorted, fishing them out without even trying to be sneaky about it.

Aziraphale looked side to side, not sure if he wanted someone to call the demon out or not. Not that it would help. If Aziraphale couldn’t get him to stop, other people certainly wouldn’t. Not unless Crowley wanted to make something else out of it.

Or Aziraphale. He rolled his eyes and with a sigh, gave Crowley a hearty shove in the back.

Crowley made a rather undignified sound as he went straight into the water.

Aziraphale pretended not to notice, dusting invisible remnants off his hands.

Crowley resurfaced, absolutely livid. Yet as drenched as he was, he looked too ridiculous to be taken seriously. Aziraphale struggled not to laugh, keeping the corners of his mouth tight to restrain his smile. It was partially successful.

More than Aziraphale looked over now, though noone dared do anything yet. Aziraphale didn’t doubt someone would be coming soon to fish Crowley out.

“I think we’d best be going now?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley reached up and pulled him into the fountain.

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