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“So, as you can see,” Crowley concluded his speech with a sweeping hand gesture. “This is the perfect demonic lair. Full of dust and odours.”
“But,” Hastur gestured at the illustrations of the serpent of Eden on prominent display. “All the bibles?”
“Misprinted bibles! Like this one-” Crowley pointed at the glass case containing the Wicked bible. “A tiny little change, just one word and suddenly the Holy book instructs the reader to commit adultery.”
“And you’re hoping to what? Sell this to someone and hope one error corrupts them?”
“Of course not. I can’t actually sell them, can I? I’m a demon, I can’t spread the Lord’s word, even an edited version. No, I just show them. I show them how weak it is, how easily altered. Loosen their grip on faith, make them turn to our side.”
“How are you selling them anything with opening hours like this?”
“I’m so glad you mentioned the opening hours, I’m especially proud of them. You see, people want something more if they can’t have it. Forbidden fruit.” Crowley paused dramatically. “And as I’m sure you’ve noted, there is another bookshop right next door, yeah? One with rather suggestive literature. So a human wants to come buy a bible, but oh no, Fell’s is closed for the day. Oh, look, there is another bookshop right here. Boom. Temptation.”
“Fell.” Ligur shook his head. “Bit on the nose, don’t you think?”
Crowley shrugged. “Seemed better than Fallen.”
“I understand the misprints, but how are you corrupting them with all this Eden stuff?”
Crowley smiled, hoping all the fondness was hidden behind his sunglasses. “That’s just a bit of demonic vanity.”
“Well, Crowley, I’m impressed,” Ligur said. “Glad to see you’ve managed to kick that nasty cleaning habit of yours.”
Crowley flashed a grin.
“I like the dark corners,” Hastur admitted begrudgingly. “Very good for lurking.”
Or for pressing a principality against a bookshelf and kissing him silly, Crowley thought. Not that he would know.
Gabriel nodded appreciatively. “I like the colour scheme. Very stark.”
Aziraphale smiled. “Well, I had to take your, um, comments to heart.”
Gabriel’s expression turned skeptical. “The throne, though?”
“Oh, I don’t sit in it. I thought it would be good to have a representation of Her in my residence.”
“And the statues?”
“The eagle was rescued from a destroyed church. It survived against all odds. And the angel and demon, uh, wrestling is meant to represent the fight between good and evil. The angel is letting the demon think he is winning, ready to strike him down when he least expects it.”
“Well,” Gabriel said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Who would have thought you had it in you? The plants are a bit much, but you were always kinda soft, weren’t you? Recreating Eden is certainly an improvement compared to all the books. Coveting does not become an angel.”
“That is why I turned to minimalism.”
“I’m glad of it, buddy. Keep up the good work.”
“How did it go?”
“Great, management ate it up. You?”
“Successful as well.” Aziraphale paused, narrowing his eyes. “Did you reorganise this shelf?”
“I was nervous, alright? I alphabetised it. And then I realised you’d hate that so I used the first letter of the fifth word on the forty-second page.”
A warmth spread inside Aziraphale’s chest. He didn’t know what to do with it other than to share it, so he put his arms around Crowley. “You know me so well.”
“Course I do, angel.” Crowley hugged him back. “It’s been nearly six thousand years.”
Aziraphale shook his head. “They-“ His gaze flicked up. “Do not. At all.”
“That’s their choice,” Crowley said. “Wrong choice. They don’t know what they’re missing.”
Aziraphale smiled against Crowley’s shoulder. “You know,” he started cautiously. “You could stay for a while. Since you live here now, officially.”
“I might start dusting,” Crowley warned.
“I’ll manage. I know you too, you know.”
“Better than anyone else, angel. Better than anyone else.”