There was a stunned moment where Aziraphale just stared at the demon, making fish-out-of-water expressions.

And then, equal indignation broke out, and an ugly, mottled blush patterned out over Aziraphale's fair skin. "How dare- why? Why do you ask me such things? It's only-" The angel waved the bag, struggling to find words. "I wanted to provide-"

He couldn't finish. The unreasonable - was that jealousy? - unexplained anger at innocent activities of his, duties of being an angel, friends of his... First sulking, then sniping, and then with the outburst, and all without an explanation.

Not this time. They couldn't continue if Crowley didn't trust him.

Aziraphale trusted Crowley. But the reverse...

"Why?"