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It was a Friday, and Aziraphale had absolutely no plans besides organizing his desk area to get the extra books and papers off of it, and perhaps watching a movie later with Crowley.
As he stirred his tea and hummed a song absentmindedly, he smiled at the thought of Crowley watching a movie with him. Maybe they would watch a comedy, and he’d get to see Crowley crying with laughter. Or they’d watch a mystery, and try to solve it as they went along. Maybe they’d just watch a documentary about animals so he could see Crowley’s expression soften at the sight of cute animals (admittedly, not many shared his appreciation for certain types of animals, but neither of them cared).
Rather abruptly, Aziraphale realized that the song he was humming was one he hadn’t heard since he left his church, and more specifically, one that he hadn’t sung himself since he was very little. Aziraphale frowned a little at this, furrowing his brows.
It wasn’t a particularly nice song, now that he thought about it. Actually, it was exactly the type that sounded like you wouldn’t be surprised to hear it in a horror film about indoctrination.
Obedience and not looking into other ideas and such. There was even a bit about “submitting to authority” and keeping “on the narrow way.”
Why was this a children’s song in the first place, Aziraphale wondered.
Trying to shake the song from his mind, Aziraphale put down the sugar spoon he held and got to work.
——
“I-E-N-C-Eee...” Aziraphale sang under his breath as he sorted through the various paper cluttered on his desk from the past few days.
“—the very best way, to show that you—“ he realized what he was singing and pursed his lips, somewhat embarrassed. Letting out a heavy sigh, he got up and turned on the radio, which was already tuned to the classical station. Hopefully the other music would get the song out.
He’s been successful at leaving behind many other habits that he didn’t want to keep, this one wouldn’t be any different.
——
As the sun set lower in the sky, Aziraphale heard a knock on the doors of the bookshop. Letting himself give a little eye roll in annoyance, he got up, hoping it wasn’t a customer trying to get in after-hours.
Instead, he was greeted by a blurry image of a tall, thin figure in dark clothing, with a shock of red hair. “Ah, that would be Crowley,” Aziraphale said to himself, before opening a door with a smile.
“Hey there angel,” Crowley said warmly. Aziraphale noticed the white bag he held at one side. “I thought you might like some takeout? I got it from that Indian place down the road,” Crowley explained.
“Oh, thank you dear!” Aziraphale said, stepping aside to let Crowley in.
They settled themselves in the bookshop’s back room, clearing aside a few magazines Crowley had brought over previously.
At one point, Crowley appeared to cough after he took a bite of lentils on a piece of naan.
“Oh god— too spicy—“ he exclaimed hoarsely.
Aziraphale smirked. “Oh no, what a travesty.”
“I didn’t know that specific order was spicy!” Crowley spluttered before downing a few good gulps of water. “Here, you try it,” he said, offering his container.
Aziraphale took a scoop of the lentils and tried it. “Mmm, that’s quite good actually! Makes my senses tingle,” he remarked, wiggling in delight as the savory, spicy flavor ignited in his mouth. He couldn’t prove it, but he suspected Crowley had offered it to him just because he knew he liked spicy food.
“Honestly, I don’t know how you do it,” Crowley said, shaking his head as Aziraphale transported the rest of the small scoop of lentils into his own container.
——
Later on, Aziraphale picked out a bottle of wine for them to share, and Crowley picked out a documentary he’d seen a funny post about. “Trust me angel, the guy who narrates this is hilarious!” he’d stated, kicking his feet up on the coffee table.
Indeed, it was hilarious. The narrator seemed to have a craving for paninis the entire time, while vastly disliking his coworkers, all while talking about monkey and bears and things.
Often, one of them would pause the show to talk about the things the narrator mentioned, whether it was his snickering about the cameraman who filmed the whole thing, or the strange marsupials he had gone on about, and how Crowley wished that there were more aliens in science fiction that had big eyes like that and weren’t reptilian.
As the night went on and the wine in their glasses grew less, they would often descend into a state of just being, talking about nothing in specific, sometimes just enjoying each other’s company.
Crowley had had his eyes closed for the last few minutes slumped on the couch, not noticing Aziraphale staring sappily at his peaceful face. One of Crowley’s eyes opened with a smile, looking at him.
“What’s that song you were singing just now?”
“Hm?” Aziraphale asked.
He hadn’t recognized he’d been singing, but realized that the same song was still stuck in his head.
“Ohh blast it all,” he said, frustrated “That song has been stuck in my head all day, and I can’t seem to get it out.”
“What’s it about?” Crowley asked lazily.
Aziraphale sighed. “Well, it’s a song I used to sing crowing up, and it’s all about obedience—” he said, waving his hands in a arch motion as he said ‘obedience’ “—and following God, and being clean and pure. All that sort of thing, and I’m guessing it would sound pretty concerning to someone who has never heard it, but it’s just driving me up the wall today!”
Crowley scoffed. “Sounds like a pretty rubbish song to me, did you hear it recently or something?”
“No!” Aziraphale exclaimed, and stood up, pacing. “I have no clue why it’s stuck in my head, it’s just very, very annoying, and I thought I had gotten past things like this is all!”
Crowley frowned and raised his eyebrows, in the sort of motion that said ‘yeah, that’s fair.’
“Well, do you want me to reassure you that that’s normal, or do you just want the song to be gone?” he asked.
“I want it gone, not repeating on a loop,” Aziraphale said, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Alright,” Crowley responded, taking out his phone, “what sort of music do you want? Lyrics, no lyrics, genre, any specific band?”
“Lyrics, and maybe something off of that one playlist you have. The one that’s titled ‘bops’ I think? I just want something I don’t know very well, darling.”
Crowley nodded, getting to the right playlist, and in the next few seconds the beginning sounds of Are You Gonna Be My Girl started. “As you wish, I don’t think you know this one,” he said with a smile, before singing along.
Aziraphale laughed. “This could be talking about you when you had long hair,” he said, smiling. Crowley laughed as well. “Oh yeah, definitely on my more femme days.”
“And I think I do know this one,”
Aziraphale said, “I just haven’t heard it in a very long time.”
“Then that’s alright, you can re-learn the words!” Crowley circled Aziraphale, dancing in a way that showed he was a bit drunk and had absolutely no clue how to dance, but was enjoying it far more than many who did know.
The documentary was forgotten, and instead substituted with Crowley belting out the lyrics to different songs, and Aziraphale humming along as he got ahold of the tune of each one, and bouncing a little to the beat.
Over the next few days, Aziraphale no longer had the same song stuck in his head, and recognized once again that even though little things from his past sometimes came up again with no apparent cause, he could count on Crowley to help where he could.