Chapter Text
“Ta, luv. Just put the groceries over on the table, will you? What’d I’d do without you, who knows!” the little old lady’s face is bright with a smile as she opens the door for Crowley, who struts into her flat, arms full of paper bags and makes his way towards her kitchen- a path well known by now.
It wasn’t anything new for Crowley, ever since making an acquaintance with her when he came back to his apartment one late afternoon. She had been coming back from the shops and made a very surprised noise when he roared up in his Bentley, almost making her drop her bags. She had never really seen the new neighbor out in day light before and hadn’t ever had the chance to talk to him.
She sure made up for that, going off about his car, how lovely taste he has- that caught Crowley’s attention quick, his pride always his weakness. She went on about how her past husband was a car fanatic and his favorite was always the VW Beetles- for the smooth ride down narrow roads. And the Bentley- for style obviously.
After a bit more chatting back and fourth, the little old lady, who was from downstairs- as she introduced herself, offered Crowley tea. He agreed, only if he could help her current load. (Once in awhile the demon would find a soft spot for someone, always denying it nonetheless. As he did with Warlock when Aziraphale complemented how well Crowley was with children.) Crowley then pushed himself off his Bentley where he had been leaning and followed her into the building.
The first couple of visits were relatively the same, around 4:30 the little old lady would be back from shopping and Crowley would help her bring in the groceries, pop in for tea- which consist of sour lemonade and crumpets, which Crowley gladly accepted the former rather than the latter.
They would discuss many things, varying from cars, their day and passing stories. Given how Crowley acted around her Bible at the front and her various decorative crosses around the flat, the glimpse of sharper than normal canines, dark clothes- which wouldn’t have struck strange if it had not been 37 C lately. And of course his lack of taking off his shades, even when he was out of the sun. She quickly took it upon herself to assume him not....of this world.
Throughout the multiple times he would come over, Crowley would notice the absents of former decorations he had seen. In replace of them were pictures of flowers and meaningful words stitched into fabric and framed unto the wall.
It was humorous to him, how nonchalant the little old lady from downstairs was, reminding him of how when Warlock was younger and took his glasses off one day and said “Kitty!” at the sight of his yellow eyes.
Funny little things, humans.
“S’nothing mum.” Crowley says and places the bags down with a grin. He moves out of the little old lady‘s way as she goes through the bags and hands him items to put on the counter while she does the similar with the cold things into the refrigerator.
Crowley listens with amusement as she goes about chatting, “-And would you know, the telly goes right out in the middle of Rose and Blanche having a wonderful tiff! Third time this week the telly's done that. Brassed off I am” she huffs out, “ Called the repair man again, I did, told me it must be the wires. Bloomin’ tells me that like it means something!”
“Tsk, sounds like a daft one.” Crowley hums, “ What company was it?” he asks, a cheeky grin on his face. The little old lady putters about, her face in the refrigerator putting away the milk when she says, “Oh those Telecare blokes, no good at caring though!”
Crowley gives out an “Ah,” sound and makes a mental note for some devious mischief to be done to them later. He wonders if the rats would be available.
“Mum? Where d’you want the potatoes?” he has the odd looking vegetables in his hand and Crowley takes a look at the bowls of assorted veggies and herbs the little old lady has. He sees that one of the bowls are half full.
“I’ll put them in with the garlic, yeah? You can move them later if you wa-”
Crowley didn’t even get to finish his sentence as he hears a clutter noise behind him and feels hands grab his arms and move him away from the counter, as if it was fire.
“Shift yourself, luv!” her voice is urgent and she gathers the garlic in one fell swoop, opens a drawer, throws them into it and closes it shut. Crowley is beyond confused as the little old lady wipes her brow and gives him a weary smile.
“I needn’t you be gagging and fleeing away, now can I? So sorry, my old mind completely forgot to hide them this time. How do you feel? You didn't get too close did you? How many fingers am I holding?”
The questions fire out as she fusses over Crowley, searching over him for any signs of distress. He blinks. “What in-? No, I mean yes! Oh hell..” he rubs his hand down his face, “Ngk, I feel fine! But tell me, what was that about?”
“Well. I’ve figured it all out, you know. Your looks, your behavior, you’re very bad at hiding it, luv. All the obvious signs and such. But don’t worry, it doesn't frighten me a bit! Known you for long and you could never harm me.”
Crowley bites back a exasperated sigh, “Right, fat lot of good that is, but what does that have to do with the garlic?”
She stops her fidgeting around Crowley and stares at him quite dumbly.
“You are a vampire, aren't you?”
-Crowley is halfway on the floor, laughing too hard to even answer her properly