Title: A Disheartening Dish
Author: DehydratedWater
Pairing: gen
Fandom: Good Omens
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Crowley and Aziraphale are not mine. Aside from belonging to themselves (and perhaps each other), they are the property of the wonderful Mr. Pratchett and the equally wonderful Mr. Gaiman. I also make no profit from this fanfiction, although actually having something in my bank account would be a nice change of pace.
***
"Come one, Angel," said Crowley as they headed to the Bentley. "I made this reservation two days ago, and I'll be da- uh, pissed if we lose our table."
"You made a reservation?" asked Aziraphale as he buckled himself in.
"Well, yeah. I went and ordered us a dish that had to be reserved in advance."
"Really?" The thought that Crowley had already ordered for him without even telling him was slightly irksome. "What, pray tell?"
"Beijing duck. Though I don't know why they can't just call it Peking duck like they used to... must be part of that 'political correctness' thing I came up with."
Aziraphale's face fell. "Oh, dear. I'm not sure I could eat that."
"But you like poultry. And they go to all that trouble to make it. You don't want to upset the chefs, do you?"
"Yes, but... it'll still have the head on, won't it? I really don't think I could possibly look my food in the eyes as I'm eating it."
"So we'll have the head cut off! Besides, there's worse things that can be done to waterfowl. Consider how foie gras is made."
Later on, Aziraphale would firmly deny that he had whimpered.
***