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“Crowley, what on earth are you doing to my books?”
The demon pivoted away from the shelf with a guilty look that instantly heightened the suspicions of the angel who had just entered the room. “Nothing.”
“You were absolutely doing something. I saw you.”
“Take it easy, angel. I’m not damaging them—”
“I should hope not!” Aziraphale stiffened at the thought. “Then what are you doing?”
“I—”
But Aziraphale was already striding forward, gaze running across the rows of spines on the bookshelves. His eyes widened. He froze. His lips moved, soundlessly.
And then he turned, and his husband quailed at the ominous look in those blue-hazel eyes.
“What. Have. You. Done. To. My. Books.” The angel’s voice was edged with smoldering hints of Wrath. The mustiness of the shop developed a faint odor of ozone.
“Aziraphale—”
“These are in alphabetical order. How dare you.”
For a moment they stood, gazes locked, the air practically crackling between them.
Then Crowley threw up his hands. “Your organization was chaos. Absolute chaos, Aziraphale! Forget alphabetization or genre categorization, books by the same author in the same series weren’t even together, no one could find anything in this mess, it—”
“Of course they couldn't, you idiot, that was by design!”
“Well, it’s a bloody awful design!”
“It is not! It does what it’s intended to do. I remember where things are, and nobody else needs to know. You think I want customers — ” Aziraphale shuddered “—being able to find what they’re looking for?!”
Crowley deflated, defensive energy leaving him in a rush. “I know. Angel, I’ve been watching your business practices for centuries. I’m aware you don’t believe in the ‘shop’ part of ‘bookshop’.”
“Then…” Aziraphale pinched the bridge of his nose. “Then why, having known my methods for centuries, did you suddenly decide it needed the Dewey Decimal System?”
“I didn’t use the Dewey Decimal System, I just alphabetized by author.”
“Bad enough. Maybe worse; not everyone understands Dewey, but everybody knows simple alphabetization.”
“Look, angel. I’m sorry.” Crowley removed his sunglasses to scrub wearily at his eyes, and the remainder of Aziraphale’s fury receded at the sight. “I shouldn’t have messed with the books. They’re your books, it’s your shop, I should’ve left them alone. I just…”
He trailed off.
“Just what?” Aziraphale asked softly. Anger gone, leaving only confusion. “What were you just?”
“Ngh. Doesn’t matter. I won’t do it again, okay? I said I’m sorry.”
“You did, and—” the angel took a deep breath “—I forgive you.”
Crowley’s lips trembled, then firmed into a small, crooked smile.
Aziraphale extended a hand; Crowley took it. They moved closer together. Somehow, the reconciling handhold shifted into a full-body embrace.
“It is possible I overreacted,” Aziraphale whispered into his demon’s neck. “Just slightly.”
“Slightly? I was expecting the flaming sword any second.” Crowley snorted, but it sounded affectionate. “Guess I forgive you, too.”
“Thank you, dear.”
After a minute longer, they stepped apart.
“I am still interested in what you meant by I just,” Aziraphale said at last, “if you feel like sharing. If it matters to you, it matters to me.”
“It’s really no big deal.”
Aziraphale waited.
Crowley sighed. “I get anxious, that’s all.”
“Anxious?”
“Yeah. And it… helps, sometimes, organizing things. Calms me down.” He shrugged. “Never used to spend enough time here for it to matter. Before it could bother me too much, you’d have sent me home anyway.”
“I hated doing that.”
“I know. So did I. Point is, I’d just organize music at my flat or something. But now I’m here every day… and don’t misunderstand, I love it…”
“As do I.” Aziraphale smiled. “But I see what you mean. It must be difficult, being around such, er, chaos without doing anything about it.”
“Yeah. I’ll get used to—”
Aziraphale lifted a hand. “What if you didn’t have to get used to it?”
“What? But, you said…”
“I said I don’t want customers finding things. And I stand by that. But I wonder, would a more, ah, complex organizational system have the same calming effect?”
“What d’you mean?”
“Well. What if instead of traditional alphabetization, you did it in patterns? For instance, if after shelving something by, say, a Mr. Aaron, you skipped 200 books before placing the one by… er…”
“Mx. Aardvark?”
“...Sure."
"No, wait, Aardvark comes before Aaron."
"Whatever. Shelve the second book, then skip another 200, and so on, eventually circling back around…”
“Oh!” Crowley’s face lit up. “Or, hm. Color coding spaced like you described, with reverse alphabetization within each color?”
“Exactly. Something like that.”
“I think,” said Crowley slowly, “that could work. Might even be better. Problem with regular alphabetizing is I always finish too quickly.”
“Splendid.” Aziraphale kissed his cheek. “Let’s strategize together. I’m sure we’ll come to an acceptable arrangement.”