Chapter Text
"We can't bloody leave him!" "I'm sure you're overreacting, my dear."
If you wandered into the quaint rare-bookshop at this moment, you would be greeted with the sight of two men. At first, you wouldn't think much of it. Then you would look at them a second time.
The first man was shorter than the other, and had light blonde hair, nearly white. He had on a coat that looked about three times as old as him, and fit in with the bookshop quite well.
The second man was the taller one. He had red hair, and black clothes. And what exactly was that around his neck? The most interesting thing about him was his face. Where as the first man had a rather soft and kind face, this man had a sharp, harsh one. If you looked near his right ear there was a strange tattoo, and perched upon his nose was a pair of dark sunglasses.
They were exact opposites. These men were Aziraphale Zira Fell and Anthony J. Crowley. However, if you truly knew them, you would know that those were not their names. They were simply Aziraphale and Crowley.
But, nobody wandered into the bookshop. In fact, if you were to try and even look in the windows, you would feel a sudden urge to not look in the windows.
Crowley narrowed his eyes beneath his glasses. "You don't know the worst of it, Angel. You weren't inside the house. I was. Every day, Angel."
Aziraphale sighed, and turned to sit down in a chair that may or may not have been there a moment ago. "Dear boy I'm sure it wasn't that bad."
Crowley hissed, tearing the dark stained glasses from his face. "Aziraphale, they were homophobes. They were sexist!"
Aziraphale gasped slightly, widening his eyes. "Are you.. Are you sure?" Crowley nodded, flopping back into another chair that was most certainly not there before.
"Once, when Mrs Dowling came shopping with me and Warlock, there was a couple. Two boys. She was disssgusted. She acted as if they were harasssing her! I took Warlock and left." Crowley sounded like he had suddenly gained a lisp, but when he stopped talking and started glaring a forked tongue slipped between his lips and flicked furiously.
Aziraphale held a hand to his mouth. "But what will we do? We can't just take him, we aren't his legal guardians."
Crowley smirked, flicking his tongue again. It wasn't angry this time, more mischievous. "You know, head office isn't on our asses now."
Aziraphale narrowed his eyes, moving forward to smack Crowley's arm lightly. "Crowley! You-" but he paused, leaning back. "Oh, but it would work."
Crowley laughed, and stood up. "It would! That's what's so great about it. Maybe a visit from the old Nanny and Gardener is due."
Aziraphale couldn't help the smile growing on his face. "I suppose it is." Crowley grinned, flicking his tongue out once more. "Let's sleep first. We'll go tomorrow."
Aziraphale stood up, walking towards Crowley. "That sounds like a wonderful idea, my dear."
And in the blink of an eye (and the snap of a finger) the man was gone.
Aziraphale sighed after a moment, adjusting his coat. "Dear boy.. what have I agreed to?" He sighed again, making his way up the stairs into the flat above his bookshop.