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Azra stood on the doorstep of the bookshop he was meant to open in four days’ time, listening to Hastur and Ligur with a sinking feeling in his stomach.
“Surely you– you can’t be serious,” Azra said, letting out a small laugh.
Ligur’s grin just broadened. “Boss was pretty clear about it. ‘Pparently, there’s too much trouble for you Up Here. He’s gonna give the job to someone else instead.”
“Oh, but– but–”
And then he saw it, just over Hastur’s shoulder. A flash of a white and gold jacket and bright red hair.
Crowley was standing just outside the bookshop, a box of chocolates and a bouquet of flowers tucked under his arm, the grin that had been spread across his face fading fast at the sight of Hastur and Ligur.
Oh, dear. This isn't good.
“I’m sure you’ll get a nice new position Downstairs,” Hastur was saying. “Right underneath the Big Guy Himself.”
Azra blinked. He could never quite work out how many of Hastur’s innuendos were intentional.
Not that it mattered, of course.
Crowley was looking between Azra and the other two demons, his brow furrowed, and Azra wondered faintly if he could hear the conversation.
"Y-you can't–" Azra said. "I have yet to see an actual summons. I have had fifty-eight hundred years to grow accustomed to your antics, and I'm afraid I won't go with you if you don't have a proper reason."
"Oh, he's getting all hoity-toity now, isn't he?" Hastur said, turning to Ligur.
"Maybe we should just drag him down," Ligur said.
Crowley grimaced. Oh, dear, he could hear the conversation.
Azra sighed. "You're welcome to try, though I wouldn't recommend it."
"Why? You gonna tattle on us?"
"There's no need to be rude."
Crowley hid what was obviously a grin behind a gloved hand.
"Rude? You want to see us be rude, little rabbit?" Hastur asked, grinning.
Azra sighed again. "Give me a day to get my affairs in order, and then I'll come Down."
Hastur and Ligur looked at each other for a moment, then shrugged as one.
"Fine," Hastur said.
"Take out any books you don't want him to burn," Ligur advised. "He's been looking for a new Library to wreck for years now."
"I'm well aware," Azra said, glad to see Crowley slipping away before either of the demons could turn around.
Hastur and Ligur both leered at him for a moment longer, then turned and walked off, speaking to one another in low voices about whatever high-society figures they were meant to be "tempting" today.
Azra took a deep breath and slumped against the doorframe of the bookshop, closing his eyes tiredly. He so desperately did not want to leave, to go back down to Hell, to be forced to face all the other demons on a constant basis, to be trapped with Satan…
Azra shuddered, carefully closing up the bookshop door behind himself and making his way deeper into the shop. It was comfortable, here, soft lighting and soft carpets and soft chairs and cushions, tall bookshelves made of light-coloured wood that even softened the sounds within. It was warm, and dry, and comfortable, and full of things that Azra loved. And it had space for Crowley to visit, to bring him flowers and chocolates and share wine and stories.
In short, it was everything that Hell wasn't, and Azra already found himself missing it horribly. He couldn't bring any of his books Down with him, he couldn't do that to them, and he didn't know if Crowley would stand for storing the things in his own home, but Azra also couldn't very well leave such precious works to the unkind mercies of Hastur (he remembered a burning library, running through it desperately, trying in vain to save whatever scrolls he could, the devastation afterwards, and shuddered again despite himself). He'd– he'd come up with something. He always had, after all.
Azra sank down into an overstuffed armchair, letting his head drop into his hands. Oh, dear. What could he possibly do?
###
Crowley slipped down a side alley, carefully hidden from Hastur and Ligur, his mind racing. He couldn't just let them take Azra away. Azra hated Hell! And what on Earth was Crowley meant to be doing all day, if the lo– if his adversary was gone? He simply couldn't allow it to happen. Something had to be done.
Two of the three demonic auras surrounding the bookshop began to move away, and Crowley tailed after them, tamping his own aura down as far as he could so as to go unnoticed. Apparently, Hastur and Ligur were planning to tempt some politicians while they waited for Azra to finish up at the shop.
Crowley felt a grin spreading across his face. He could work with that. Show them why Azra'd kept his job up here for as long as he has. After all, thwarting was meant to be his speciality.
For the entire afternoon and well into the evening, Crowley tailed after Hastur and Ligur. It was, honestly, horribly boring. They spent quite a long time lurking menacingly in parks and dark corners, while Crowley made sure that there was just enough light around them that they never quite managed to look anything more than slightly dingy and poorly-dressed. After giving up on that, they turned the aforementioned politicians, directly planting false doubts and temptations in their minds, which Crowley immediately removed like the mental tumours they were.
Eventually, after three hours spent in a dark alley, giving the same politician the same thought about bribes for the third time, Hastur growled, finally whipping around to spot Crowley for the first time.
Crowley waved, smiling sarcastically at the duo.
"Angel," Hastur snarled, and Ligur whirled around too, lunging towards Crowley before he could even properly see him.
Crowley conjured a knife from thin air, caught Ligur's arms, twisted them up behind him, and slit his throat.
Hastur screamed, high-pitched and nearly deafening, his hands flying to cover his mouth. Crowley noticed distantly that he was wearing gloves, too, and wondered if his hands were not-quite-human in the same way that Azra's were. Based on the frog on top of his head, he'd hazard that the answer was yes.
Crowley let Ligur's quickly-dissolving body fall to the ground in so much ash, rolling his eyes, as Hastur's scream slowly died down enough that he had a chance in hell of being heard. "He's just discorporated, relax. He'll be fine. What the fuck are you two idiots doing here? Thought this was Azra's territory."
Hastur looked between the pile of ash that had been Ligur and the knife in Crowley's hand. "You killed him! You– what– how–"
"He walked into my knife," Crowley said. "Why. Are. You. Here?"
"We're replacing Azra," Hastur said.
"Are you now," Crowley said. "And how do you plan to do that, with one of you already discorporated and the other one on his way out?"
"You don't scare me," Hastur said, narrowing his eyes.
"I should," Crowley said, tossing the knife up in the air and catching it casually. "Really, you're getting rid of Azra? Suppose I ought to thank you, though I'll it's a bit odd that Hell's choosing now of all times to give up on England. Height of the Empire and all that, yeah?"
"Giving up? Why– why would that be giving up?" Hastur asked.
Crowley snorted. "I just killed one of the two of you in your first… what, six hours of your being here? And what have you accomplished, in that time? Made a few people take an extra bath? How very demonic of you. Honestly, you're making my life so much easier. I'll have loads more free time to do proper angelic things if I don't have to worry about Azra any longer."
Hastur frowned. "Wait, really?"
Crowley rolled his eyes. "Wow. You really are dumber than you look. I hadn't thought that was possible. Right, well, it's been nice to meet you…?"
"Duke Hastur," Hastur said, obviously still in a daze.
"Nice to meet you, Duke Hastur. Hope to see you around again, yeah? Nice working with you."
"Wait, what–"
Crowley didn't wait for him to finish the question. He snapped his fingers, dropping an anvil out of the sky onto Hastur's head before he had a chance to scream again. His body dissolved into ash, and Crowley vanished both the knife and the anvil, before pulling the flowers and chocolates out of the dimensional pocket he'd hidden them in and making his way back across London to the bookshop and Azra.
Then he paused, glancing over his shoulder, back towards the alley. If something like that happened again…
Well. It was probably better to be safe than sorry.
###
Azra hadn't moved in what was probably coming up on six hours, now. He knew he ought to have been selling books, or making arrangements, or even just eating some non-rotten food while he still had the chance, but he couldn't quite bring himself to do so. He was being recalled to Hell. He was losing everything. It was–
There was the faint ozone scent of an angelic miracle, and then the door to the bookshop swung open.
"Azra?" Crowley's voice called. "You in here?"
"In the back," Azra said, sitting up straighter and smoothing his clothes. "Crowley, you shouldn't be here. Hastur and Ligur–"
"Are probably gonna be stuck in the queue for new corporations for a while, if Hell is anything like Heaven is," Crowley said, emerging into the back room with the flowers and chocolates from before under one arm and a small flask tucked under the other. "You alright, bunny?"
Azra blinked. "In the– Crowley, did you discorporate two Dukes of Hell?"
"Maybe," Crowley said, a small grin flitting around the corners of his mouth. "They were so bloody boring, bunny, you've no idea. I'd've gone mad if they'd replaced you up here."
Azra blinked again, standing up and wringing his hands together. "So you– hold on. You discorporated two Dukes of Hell, on your own, in order to– to keep me here?"
"Pretty much, yeah," Crowley said. "Like I said. They were awful. You're a much better nemesis."
"Oh," Azra said, utterly blown away, staring at Crowley as something soft and warm ballooned in his chest. "Oh, I– you–"
Then he blinked, looking Crowley over almost frantically. "Are you all right? Did they hurt you? How on earth did you manage that?"
Crowley laughed. "I'm fine, bunny. Promise. Neither of them got a hit in on me. Honestly, I was kind of disappointed, I was expecting more of a fight."
"You hate fighting."
"Still. Like I said, they were boring."
"I can't argue with you there," Azra said. "How did you manage it?"
Crowley grinned, holding out the box of chocolates and the flowers. "Here, take these so I don't have to keep holding them. I'll get us both a drink and tell you, yeah?"
"Of course," Azra said, taking the flowers in one hand and the box in the other, only glancing for a moment at the flask in Crowley's other hand.
One drink quickly turned to two, which turned to three, which turned to a bottle, which turned into late-night conversations and drunken impressions of one another's bosses. Azra collapsed into a fit of giggles at Crowley's description of Hastur's scream, leaning up against Crowley's side from where they'd both settled on the sofa.
It was… it was easier, like this, when it was dark and they were both drunk. Easier to forget who they were, to forget why this was forbidden to them. Easier to let go, to lean into Crowley, to rest his head against the angel's shoulder, to close his eyes and breathe in Crowley's scent and just relax.
Then Azra felt the faint whisper of an angelic miracle, and heard Crowley clear his throat. "I, um. I have something else for you, bunny. Just for– y'know, just in case."
Azra sat up, frowning slightly and pushing at least some of the alcohol out of his system. Crowley sounded terribly serious all of a sudden. "What is it?"
Crowley took a deep breath, then held out the flask Azra had noticed earlier. "Don't open it unless you need to, yeah? It's holy water."
Azra froze. "H-holy–?"
"Just in case," Crowley said. "If– y'know, if they try something like this again, and I'm not around– I don't want them to hurt you, and this seems–"
"No!" Azra said, pushing Crowley's hand away. "No, Crowley, I can't–"
"Please, Azra–"
"I have no need for a– a suicide pill–"
"It's not that!" Crowley protested, pulling the flask away of his own volition, now. "It isn’t meant for that, I promise. Just– in case they try something like they pulled today, just in case– I don't want you to get hurt, bunny, please–"
"No," Azra said again, shaking his head firmly. "Absolutely not, Crowley. Do you know what Heaven would do to you, if they found out you'd given a weapon like that to me?"
"I don't bloody care what Heaven–" Crowley growled.
"Fine!" Azra snapped. "Do you know what Hell would do to me, if they found out I had that?"
Crowley blinked. "I– thought they liked you."
Azra laughed. "He likes me. The rest of them… aren't fans. Especially after today, I'm sure Hastur and Ligur in particular would simply love an excuse to get their hands on me."
Crowley's eyes widened. "Shit. I didn't– they won't hurt you, will they? I'm sorry, bunny, I didn't know–"
"I'll be all right," Azra promised, laying a gentle hand on Crowley's knee. He'd taken his gloves off some time ago, to avoid spilling wine on them, and now he rather regretted it, feeling his fur pressed against Crowley's clothes as it was. "But I simply won't risk having holy water. I'm sorry, my dear. It isn't worth it."
"I don't want you to get hurt," Crowley said softly, picking Azra's hand up and lacing their fingers together.
Azra squeezed his hand in return. "Don't you worry about me, Crowley. I've survived this long, haven't I?"
"Suppose you have," Crowley said. The flask of holy water vanished, and Crowley stood up, pulling his hand free ever so gently. "I should probably head out. It's late."
Azra firmly squashed down on the instinct to ask Crowley to stay, instead standing up as well and smiling gently at the angel. "Thank you, again, for… for everything. It– it means more to me than I could ever hope to express."
"Anything for you, bunny," Crowley said, smiling back.
Then he was gone, the bookshop door swinging shut behind him.
Azra sank back down onto the sofa, staring forlornly at the newly-refilled bottles of wine and the long-ago-emptied box of chocolates on the table in front of him. He was safe. Crowley was safe. He wasn’t going back to Hell. The holy water was gone, the temptation of it safely removed.
With a sigh, Azra set about cleaning up the mess he and Crowley had made. The bookshop was meant to open in only six days, now, and there was still so much work to be done.