Work Text:
Against his better judgement Crowley continued to go back to the bookshop even after Aziraphale had gone off to do heaven’s bidding like the eager to please angel that he was.
The new angel Muriel was completely hopeless at the whole human thing and Crowley simply had to make sure they weren't going about blowing their own cover. Not that he or Aziraphale had ever been particularly bothered about that sort of thing, but still, he had to teach them something . At first the plan had been to stop by once a week or so, but the kid had seemed so lonely there for someone so bubbly and sociable. And so this ‘once a week at the most’ plan had flown out the window and became a bi-weekly thing, which then turned into a tri-weekly thing until eventually it was almost every day.
If anybody asked, not that anyone was that interested in either of them to do anything of the sort, then Crowley would simply answer that the kid was in dire need of his help and as the angel of the residency was currently… away, he felt he should probably at least try assisting a little.
So there he was, sitting in the little arm chair as Muriel attempted to make tea for the first time. He was coaching them through it… sort of.
“So…” She began as they stirred in the splash of milk he had demonstrated to her, “I've been meaning to ask something.”
He raised a brow, but was unsurprised. They asked questions constantly .
“And what is that?” She had never stated it but he knew that they liked it when he demonstrated his interest in what they had to say.
“So the other week… oh is it sugar next?”
He nodded in response, urging them to continue the original line of thought.
“Two spoons, little ones.” He didn't mention that this was usually how Aziraphale took his tea.
“Right, so the other week. On that night… well before the demons and everything, there was that gathering of all the people on the street. And you were all having such a good time, it looked like anyways. And it just looked like so much fun! What was it? That moving?” They looked like it was the most burning question they’d ever had and that the answer could actually define her life for eternity. He couldn't quite find it in himself to find her ridiculous, despite how ridiculous their question truly was.
“You mean the dancing?” That night flashed through his mind, Aziraphale’s hand in his, eyes staring at him, his smile brightening the room like their whole existence wasn't about to crash and burn in the morning. The two of them dancing like they were the only ones in the room, even when he was trying to warn them about the demons lurking outside.
His heart ached in ways that he couldn't even begin to describe, with a betrayal that was harder to bear than the Fall. He had given away his heart and he had paid the price.
But now, looking at the bright young angel he had begun taking comfort in rediscovering the wonders of humanity with, he couldn't fault himself for daring to give it away once again.
“ Dancing ,” They breathed the words like a prayer, with a reverence that they always carried when learning new things about humans. It was incredibly endearing honestly, and hurt him in ways that only Aziraphale had known how to.
After sitting there for a moment, presumably taking in the majesty of this new discovery she turned to him, a brightness in their eyes that was almost blinding. “Can you teach me how to dancing?”
It was almost endearing enough to make him smile. Almost.
“I don't dance,” He sighed, long and suffering, despite the fact that he was already getting up and into a position that might be easier to teach them. “Oh alright then, get up.”
She made a high squealing sound of pure childish excitement and clapped their hands as they bounced onto their toes and forgot all about the tea on the coffee table by the window. Neither of them could bring themselves to move anything out of place, needing to keep Aziraphale’s spirit alive in some deluded attempt to convince themselves that he would be back for the shop one day and would want everything to be the exact same as it had been for the last two hundred and thirty years. The bones of this building ached with the six thousand years of pain of the people who inhabited it.
Clicking his fingers for the full dramatic effect, mostly for the amusement and excitement of Muriel, soft music began to stream out of the record player and he held out a hand for the grinning angel to take. She looked entirely clueless as they placed a tentative hand in his own, but as always, seemed to just be along for the ride.
He tapped the slow rhythm of the song into their wrist as he hummed along for a moment, breathing in the notes of a song which he had once introduced Aziraphale to.
“You have to understand the beats of a song to know how to dance to it. This one is a slow song so we dance slowly.” He paused, letting that information sink in.
“Right! So.. how do we do that?” They asked, looking up at him with big brown eyes. Crowley had long ago accepted that he was going soft.
“Well, for a slow song like this, one person might sway or something, little moves, you know, feel the music but don't draw attention i guess. But with two people, its alot the same, but a bit more coordinated.” He waved a hand in dismissive gestures, as though this was all simple information that was of little importance to anyone, despite it being the entire topic of conversation. “So there's some sort of gender role thing to it traditionally, but we don't really care about gender nonsense so ignore that, don't even worry about it. Anyways, someone puts a hand on the other person’s hip, and you hold hands, or you put a hand on their shoulder, depends what you're in the mood for really. And then you sway together. Or you step together. That's a little more complicated though, so let's master the swaying first and then move on to steps.”
“Okay!” She grinned up at him like he had hung the stars (and he had actually. He wondered what they would think of him if he told them about that) and he couldn't help but smile back softly.
It took about three songs to master swaying, before they moved on to stepping, which proved to be a much more formidable foe for Muriel, but they were determined to get it right for a full song without stepping on Crowley’s toes, so they pushed through it for a full 20 minutes. As a reward for her hard work, he decided to add in a little twirl under his arm, which made them gasp and giggle and smile so hard he was sure their face would break.
“Oh I didn't know we could do that one! It was so fast and fun. Are there more dances like that one?” They pounced on him the moment he let go of her hand and walked over to the record player, which was in need of a new record.
“Well, now that you've mastered the easy stuff, I think you'll like the big stuff a lot. Much faster, very bouncy.” He grinned, baring his teeth at her in a menacing fashion, that he knew they had seen enough to recognise as playful. She was elated by the news, of course.
There was a small stack of records that seemed more Crowley’s taste than Aziraphale’s, a curious assortment of bands that he had most definitely never heard playing in the shop, but who’s sleeves had clearly been opened. Right at the top of the pile was an ABBA record which he knew Muriel would adore. It went straight onto the record player.
The fast paced rhythm of Waterloo began to play through the speakers, and immediately Muriel’s head began to bop along to the song, an overjoyed smile never once leaving their face.
“Now this one, this type is much better because there aren't really any rules, you can just move your body to the beat however you like as long as it looks alright. Lots more opportunity for hip action, which is severely under utilised in my humble opinion.” He demonstrated with an accentuated wiggle of the hips to the music as they giggled along happily.
Reflecting on the last few weeks after everything had devolved into chaos and he had been left to pick up the pieces of himself on his own, it was significantly less lonely than he had imagined it would be. Muriel had become his crutch, absorbing all the pain and angst and heartbreak he had been harbouring. Of course he could see a lot of Aziraphale in the young angel, the two of them having the most annoyingly bright outlook on life that made everyone around them want to soak up all their optimism and pure goodness, but he would be lying if he said they didn't remind him more of himself. Before the Fall, he’d had the same bright wonder at all things big and magical. He'd also asked questions, hundreds of questions, he’d been bursting with them once they had started. And they often liked the things that he did, like the music. And plants (which he had discovered when he had taken her to the park one day because she was practically bouncing with pent up energy from staying in the book shop for too long) and even their taste in books was the same despite books generally being Aziraphale’s thing.
Perhaps it was a little selfish to ignore his current problems just to focus on healing some strange version of his younger self but he couldn't help that. Crowley had far too many wounds from far too many wars to count, he might as well start healing them somewhere.
“Like this?” They asked, wiggling around like some sort of worm on fire. He laughed at that, and some part of his chest felt lighter for it.
“You're getting there, almost. A bit more like this,” He grabbed onto their hands and began to pull one back and one forwards, his body following the movement and guiding theirs with it. With that he began to lead them on a simple, but vigorous sixties type dance that had the pair of them grinning and breathing heavily. By the end of the song Muriel was practically glowing with joy.
“Dancing is most definitely the most magical thing that humans have ever done. It's like some sort of miracle! I have never loved the humans more than I do right now, gosh they figure out just the most perfect ways to live, don't you think? It's like they feel everything so much that it has to come out in more than just words,” They sighed happily, bopping and twirling along to the next song already as he moved towards the bookcases, preferring to rest after that excessive amount of exercise.
What they had said did stick with him though, humans did figure out the most perfect ways to live. Well, not perfect per se, but definitely wondrous. Crowley had always admired humans for their ability to think up greater evil than he ever could, but it hadn't truly occurred to him that those same brilliant minds could think up ways to spread happiness, joy, beauty, pain, love, fear. The human world thrived on the emotions they felt so deeply. The people here carried their hearts on their sleeves and made peace with the fact that some day that may invite pain of unimaginable strengths. Angels and demons think themselves above humans because of their relative neutrality in the emotions department, an ability to hold ranks as some mindless drones doing the bidding of their overbearing higher powers. But ultimately both lives were full of misery and the only ones who were truly living at all were the humans who had been given such a short timeline in which to perform and live out their every desire before they were yet again wiped off the face of existence, a trial of vague amusement to a puppet master of mystery who was completely full of shit.
And despite this lack of time to do anything with themselves, humans had made rather good work of capturing rare beauties within mediums such as art, dance, film. The overall thrill of life was enhanced by mortality and Crowley admired this dearly from his new perspective as he watched his kid wobble and bounce to When I Kissed The Teacher.
He didn't feel better, he wasn't sure he ever really would at this point. Aziraphale had been half of himself, half of his soul, had left a gaping hole of ache in his absence, but who better to learn how to deal with such strong emotions from than humans?
And also Muriel.
Muriel was her own piece of work, but he could only grin in the face of that particular challenge. To anyone who asked, he just enjoyed corrupting the mind of such a naive and impressionable young angel, but he knew he thought of them as a part of the broken little family that he had built in his heart.