Work Text:
“You want to open a bookshop,” Crowley repeated blankly after Aziraphale. “Really?”
“Really,” Aziraphale confirmed proudly. “I’ve given it quite a bit of thought.”
“You’ve decided to do it.”
“Yes.”
“A bookshop. Opening one. You .”
“Yes!” Aziraphale frowned at him. “You don’t sound very enthusiastic about it.”
“No, no!” Crowley said hurriedly. “I’m very enthusiastic. Whatever you want, awesome, go for it. Long as it makes you happy, I support it. Very enthusiastically. All enthusiasm, me.”
“I… see.” Aziraphale could hear the dubiousness in his own voice.
“It’s just.” Crowley shifted in his seat. “You’re sure this is the best kind of business for you to run?”
“I am. I told you, I’ve thought it through. It seems like a perfect fit.” Aziraphale was starting to get annoyed. He’d been expecting an excited reaction, support of the sort Crowley usually offered so freely… not this most discouraging doubt. “Really, Crowley, I thought you’d be happy for me. This isn't like you. If you have a problem with me opening my own business, you might as well just say so.”
“No!” Crowley protested. “It’s not like that! It’s nothing. Nothing. No problem at all. Only…”
“Only, what?”
Crowley shrugged. “Just never thought you’d be happy selling your books, that’s all. But if you really—”
“Who said anything about selling books?!” Aziraphale broke in, his level of outrage enough that there were at least five dimensions echoing in his voice before he quickly tamped the holy rage back down so the light didn’t hurt Crowley’s eyes. “Who,” he repeated again, in a more ordinary voice this time, “said anything about selling books?”
Crowley goggled. “...You did?”
“I never!”
“You said you wanted to open a bookshop. Ngh. Wait. Didn’t you?”
“Well, of course I did. But I never said anything about selling.”
“Ah.” Crowley paused. “You’re aware that bookshops usually… sell books?”
“Well,” Aziraphale conceded, “I suppose. But that’s only a byproduct of necessity. Because their owners are human, and humans tend to require income to live off of.”
“Unlike you.”
“Exactly.”
“So you’re just going to… what, have a building full of books and never let anyone else touch them?”
“If I can manage it.” Aziraphale beamed, much mollified. “You understand perfectly.”
“Oookay.” Slowly, an answering grin spread across Crowley’s face. “You know, angel. I think you’re right. I’m sorry I ever doubted. This is the perfect business model for you.”
