Chapter Text
“No! You know those demons hang around the soda shop, I’ll get eaten alive in there!” Aziraphale whined clutching his books in his arms.
“Don’t be square! It’ll be a blast and I’ll be right there with you. I’ll buy you a milkshake too if you’re not sure.” Anathema said, trying to persuade her friend. Azriaphale sighed, knowing that it wasn’t a good idea. He was soft and bookish, preferring suits to leather jackets, his natural curls to styled quiffs, and hell would freeze over before he got on a motorcycle. He wasn’t exactly popular due to his habit of reminding teachers of homework and being the leader of the book club. He would even refuse to walk over the grass on school grounds. Anathema on the other hand was a little more ‘cool’; opting for the schools idea of ‘wicked’ books and dating a wannabe greaser (he owned a leather jacket, and that’s as far as it go’s). Aziraphale agreed, hoping he wouldn’t regret it.
Crowley took a drag from his cigarette and dumped the ashes in a neighbors milkshake. There was no stopping him, anyone stupid enough to try would have to be either stupid or just plain reckless. Crowley and his gang pretty much owned the place, marking it with the stench of cigarettes and motorbikes out the front. Time was spent driving too fast, sneering at people that got too close and minor petty crime. Crowley might not have been of the highest rank in the Demons, but he had a bad reputation that kept people on their toes. The bell above the door rang and Crowley looked up to snarl at whoever enter his territory. Soon as he saw Azriaphale timidly walk through the door; he thanked someone that he was sitting down, because he would have fallen over otherwise.
There stood a slightly shorter boy, with a bit of pudge in a smart button up shirt and blazer. He’d almost look like a banker if he was twenty years older and his hair not being so unruly. He looked almost cherub like, and Crowley thought he might die right there. He watched as the boy ordered a milkshake with a girl that he really hoped wasn’t a girlfriend. If his head was a little clearer, he would know that Aziraphale was as gay as a tree full of monkeys on nitrous oxide as he was. Before his brain could start thinking again, Crowley got up and sauntered over. He stood behind the boy that was turning his brain to mush and tapped grabbed his shoulder.
Aziraphale turned, expecting it to be Anathema. But instead he was met with a boy with a tattoo snake on his sideburn, flame red hair, and more leather than he’d seen on a cow. “Oh I’m sorry dear, I’ll just get right out of your way, no need to worry.” Azriaphale said with a shakey breath, before trying to step out of Crowley’s way. But his feet and gravity were against him, and he stumbled into the greasers chest, his chocolate milkshake spilling down his front. Silence hung in the air, everyone had stopped to make sure they didn’t miss a thing. Everyone expected a fight, maybe just one punch. Maybe a full blown fist fight if they were lucky.
Crowley looked at his front of his shirt and jeans, and then the trembling boy in front of him. He watched Aziraphale as he tried to soak up the mess with some napkins, which only amused and maybe aroused Crowley. “Getting handsy already then?” Crowley said with a smirk to try and keep up the bad boy persona. “Oh, I didn’t mean it like that; oh no, I am so so-“ “I didn’t say I didn’t like it, Angel”