Chapter Text
They’d passed by the old book shop with faded lettering several times, but it was never truly inviting. They often got the feeling it was eyeing them.
Once, when the morning, and the coffee was good, they stood outside its doors, and listened to the building. Quickly, however, they became overrun by words. And because words were attached to a multitude of feeling, that were sometimes translated like images, that were sometimes misunderstood to be vivid memories… Well, you can guess that they probably took a step back.
“Okay,” they whispered. They went home.
A night without sleep, and a blooming paracosm in their head. Large sheets of paper, inks, and paints were utilized, trying to comprehend it all. Finally, they needed more source material to work with, and narrowed it down to probably a book that may or may not have been housed nearby. But first they had to breathe.
The world outside blurred, heavy with their visions, when they once again approached the book shop. With so many silent words, they asked it if it had what they needed, or if it knew where to find it.
The front door clicked open. A crevice to brave. A silent thanks, and they ventured in.
Warm, natural light held the air like it was sacred. The front desk stood unmanned, as if they’d missed Mass by about a day. Books, of every kind, in different conditions, lined many unmarked shelves. There were even scrolls, neatly spaced, tags hanging from the ends.
They smiled, because they’d been to different religious establishments before, but this one was by far their favorite.
A glimmer over a far isle caught their attention, followed by whispers of an ancient kind. They couldn’t tell if they were in the air or in their mind. They decided, just this once, that the whispers were real, and followed them.
The book stood out in an ineffable way. Its red, textured cloth cover greeted them like a new friend. Gold lettering shimmered like teeth, and they took a moment to smile at each other.
They were still hesitant to disturb the peace when another door somewhere opened, and didn’t close.
“Hello? Someone there? I didn’t think we were open today… or lately….”
Some musical creature had entered the Temple from the back way. This place was probably theirs. Maybe they’d want something in return, for letting one of their books off the shelf to be read. Luckily, there were still cupcakes in their bag. The Gentry love Their cake.
They turned to the red book hopefully. It seemed to reach out to them, so they reached back.
“Ah, hello. It seems you found a book.” The musical creature looked like a man, but also like… so many other things.
The visitor shook their head, no, they didn’t… find it. But they didn’t know how to say it. The entire memory was happening vividly, all at once, and now. They tried not to say anything. They tried to focus.
“I see.” The creature said, though not completely sure they did. “What is your name, dear?”
Several came up to the surface, but they answered, “Adrian.” Confident they’d gotten it close to right, Adrian placed the book on the somewhat tidy desk before them.
The creature’s face scrunched.
Right.
Adrian then carefully fished out the cupcakes from their bag, and placed each once on the desk, so that they ended up in a pattern— a four-sided diamond.
It was silent, as the offering was considered. Weighed.
“Highly unusual, trading books for cakes, but… um…” They looked off into the distance for a note of time. Then, “Tell you what, Adrian. I don’t much like my things leaving—“
“The Temple. I know.” It was a breath. Adrian’s eye level slipped once the contact was broken by the Keeper, and not that they meant to say anything in the first place. But that was done now. They waited, distracted, as their world mingled like smoke with the world around them.
“Oh. Well, yes.…” Deliberation. “There’s a sitting area, near the back, to the left. You may return and read during the day, but please, replace the tome in its proper place by nightfall. And you may call me Mr. Fell.”
“Thank you. Mr. Fell.” They held the now joyous book against their chest, and sailed off for the back.
“Oh, um, if you see a snake— that is, he’s harmless— just don’t mind him, dear.”
It took some concentration, but an “Alright” made its way back to the Keeper.
As promised, they found the sitting area, nestled into a windowed alcove. Two worn yet comfortable chairs sat across from each other at an antique, round table. A plush, green throw blanket draped over one of the chairs, as if someone had just been sitting there.
On the far desk, in the warm sunlight, lay a large snake coiled on a velvet, gold-lined pillow. They flicked out their tongue briefly, but otherwise made no movement. Were they sleeping? And, just like the Keeper, the snake looked like many improbable things all in one body. Yet their music was hushed. Alas, Adrian only had one brain. So they set about their business.
For about a minute, Adrian watched the light. Then, they set their watch alarm for a few hours time. They’d make it before sundown.
The chairs and table… they shouldn’t be touched, not by them. But near the window perched a violin, its bow hanging blissfully on its stand. Perhaps then there would be a music stand as well.
Some time later, Mr. Fell followed animated murmurations, silently stepping along the isles of his ancient collections. The young-looking human sounded like they were teaching, word for word from his Chaldean Oracles. Every now and again, they would comment on it. Offer perspective. Connect things. Like an elated professor who had studied this topic their entire academic lives, but who now had…
They peeked around a bookshelf. Crowley, still in snake form, raised their head and moved along with their guest. Charmed, they were sure. Crowley was always a good audience.
Mr. Fell almost teared up.
A slight beeping echoed from Adrian, then. They ceased teaching and tended to their wristwatch for several moments. It lighted, blinked, beeped and silenced. What kind of wristwatch beeped and could be a torch?
“I have to go eat, now,” Adrian told Crowley, a bit mechanically. The wristwatch… had to tell them when to eat. Well, Mr. Fell supposed, at least somebody did.
Crowley moved towards them, but then Adrian touched them lightly on the nose.
“Boop.”
After a moment, Crowley got themself on the human’s shoulders.
“Okay, but I have to put the book back. The Keeper gave me rules.” A thin, red rope held their spot in place, and Adrian carefully carried it back to its proper place.
Mr. Fell sat casually at the front desk, writing with a handsome quill. They looked up when the human returned, probably wanting to give Crowley back.
The snake uncoiled, and Adrian helped them change hands. They were now happily around Mr. Fell, who seemed equally satisfied.
“Thank you, Mr. Fell. I appreciate you letting me read your book.”
“Ah, I’m glad you enjoyed it, dear. Will you be returning tomorrow?”
“If it’s alright.”
“Perfectly alright.”
Adrian thought to themself a minute, savoring the warmth slowly bleeding from their chest. But then, they remembered.
“What flavor do you like?”
“Hm? Flavor of what, dear?”
“Cakes.” They might as well get it from the Gent first hand. To be sure. Plus, it was safer to bring food to a Gent, rather than take it. As legends go, anyway.
The snake’s head turned entirely to look Mr. Fell in the face.
“Oh! Well, um… quite a lot, actually!” They paused to listen to the snake softly hissing, perhaps a suggestion to help them decide. “Ah, good, yes. Do you have any lemons?”
Adrian smiled. “Plenty.”
“Excellent! We’ll see you tomorrow, then. Be safe, now.”
“Good night, Mr. Fell, and…“
“Ah. This is Anthony.”
“Good night, Anthony.” Adrian waved and left the Temple, out into the dusk.
Aziraphale wondered to themself suddenly how the human got in their shop to begin with. Not that it was really a shop, at this new location. Their gaze darted around the place, suspicious of it.
Then they turned to find a human-shaped Crowley, arm still on their shoulder, grinning at them ridiculously.
“What is it?”
“They totally think you’re Sídhe, angel. ‘The Fair Folk’.”
“O-oh? W-why do you think so?”
Crowley sighed, but smiled. “Alright, so tell me, how did they persuade you to let them read one of your precious books, when this place is basically just for your giant literary collections since we got here? Hm?”
“Well they… offered me… blueberry cupcakes.”
“Right. Anything else?” Crowley didn’t intend to hear an answer just then, as they playfully slid their arms around Aziraphale’s neck and kissed their speechless mouth.
“You old snake,” the Angel softly chided when their lips were released.
“I’ll start dinner, then?”
“Yes. Yes, I’ll be right up.”
After Aziraphale tidied up the desk. They made sure to lock the door, with only one condition, but was surprised that it already had it. Then, they looked around lovingly before retreating to the back way.
“Good old shop…”
*