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(That does sound fun.)
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Crowley looked around, seeing an old bookstore add on a brick wall. "Hm… Angel will probably visit there." He muttered, checking the adress and beging to walk towards the adress listed on it.
Aziraphale had just finished cleaning himself up when he heard the shiny brass bell above the door chime. "Oh I'm terribly sorry, but we have not opened yet!" He called, starting to walk towards the main shop. "However we do open–." He stopped dead in his tracks seeing who had opened the door. "Crowley," he said, his voice weak.
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"Angel!" Crowley said happily before remebering that he was a demon and was supposed to be cool. "I mean, how are you these days?" He leaned against the door frame and eyebrows raised in question as the light glinted off his glasses.
"How am–." Aziraphale stopped midsentence. "Crowley where have you been? Do you know what year it is? Do you know how long you've been gone? What the heaven have you been doing?" Aziraphale walked quickly towards Crowley and didn't stop until he was jamming his finger in his face. "And now you come into my bookshop and ask me how I am these days? Really? You better have a good explanation for this!"
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"I uh… In my defense I didn't know it was your bookshop, I was just in town." He said, hands in the air in surrender. "I took a nap that turned out to be longer than I thought it was."
"Really!" Aziraphale exclaimed, crossing his arms. "That's what you have to say for yourself!" He thought for a moment and his features softened the tiniest bit. "Well. That does seem like something you would do." He glared again. "But I want you to know I am very cross with you!"
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"I'll buy you food as and apology." Crowley offered, letting his hands fall back down to his sides. "I don't know what restraunts are here though, did they move?" He asked, hoping to distract Angel a bit from his anger.