the thought of aziraphale being in Crowley’s flat and seeing that fucking statue every single time he’s there. like hi crowley, oh there’s the statue of us fucking that you thought was subtle enough to be an intimidation tactic but is clearly just a product of your sexual frustration and 6000 years spent pining. lovely. shall we eat at the Ritz today?
What if it was a mutual purchase that they bought while drunk one time at an auction because they both thought it would be hilarious, and now a few hundred years later it’s still in Crowley’s flat because they have an unspoken competition over which of them will mention how awkward it is first
my family has a “euchre tournament” approximately once a year, sometimes twice (really just whenever we’re together and feel like it tbh) and the loser has to become the new owner of this gag gift the specifics of which will go unmentioned but the point is: this statue is passed back and forth as part of some competition and Crowley, as the current loser, has it right now.
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