Work Text:
“And this one would…hm…probably go here?” Muriel questions as they place another hefty book down. They dust off their hands on their tartan skirt, adjusting the cream vest they have on before happily patting down the sides of their legs.
They take a step back to look at the shelf, seeing how it is now organized. Up in Heaven, there wasn’t really such a thing as shelves or nooks, as it was mostly the incorporeal, infinite space wherein most paperwork gets transported via miracle or gets lost in the system.
Literally. Other scriveners sometimes didn’t remember which pocket dimension they kept their records in.
But shelves! Made of hard lacquered wood with detailed carvings! Human inventions truly are fascinating!
Muriel is delighted by them. And the books, oh yes, quite delightful! Sometimes while reading, they are unable to stop and take a break; they have even spent a full week trying to read through the collection of Sherlock Holmes that Aziraphale had left behind—
‘Oh. Yes. Uhm. Right.’
Aziraphale. The new Supreme Archangel of Heaven. Muriel doesn’t understand why they feel so…odd about it all. While it’s not their place to speculate, everything does feel different, but not in a way that feels…right.
And while the Metatron has assigned them to look after the bookshop for Aziraphale, it just feels so wrong.
It’s probably why Muriel has been rearranging the shelves for a while now. Maybe if they shuffle things around, tidy things back up, give some extra love— erm, a couple of miracles— to the fragile screws of the antique furniture, things would feel better.
They didn’t. It just felt like Muriel was fixing a clock that no longer wishes to turn.
And it felt like Muriel was intruding on a space that wishes to be left alone, frozen in time.
Muriel didn’t like this feeling at all. This softly gnawing ache within them that just didn’t seem to go away.
They look around making sure that everything is in good condition, mint even as some humans say. And while looking around, they spot a familiar sleek black vehicle through the window, the same vehicle that belonged to Mr. Crowley. Muriel was just about to go outside and wave to it.
But it drives past the bookshop. It never even stopped for a moment.
It has been a full month since Mr. Crowley has stepped foot in the bookshop.
For some reason unknowable— ‘ineffable’ , as Aziraphale and Mr. Crowley liked to say— Muriel couldn’t stand it anymore. Everything felt too tight in here, despite the vastness of the shop. Everything just felt…too much.
With shaking hands, they grab the keys to the bookshop, miracled all the lights off before walking out and locking the doors. They didn’t even realize they weren’t wearing the human disguise of ‘Inspector Constable’. They just…
They just felt unwelcomed.
Without even thinking about it, Muriel pockets the keys and walks away from the bookshop. It wasn’t sunny out, a bit cloudy actually, but Muriel didn’t care. All they wanted currently was to step away from that place for a while, just so they could not feel the uneasiness of it all.
Everything is supposed to be right. Why does nothing feel right?
They were sure to have just been walking. But for some reason, they went faster. Their legs move at a new pace, and Muriel begins to discover a new human trick.
Running at full speed.
They ran, avoiding as many pedestrians as much as possible, trying to increase the distance between them and the building.
They know they should be watching over the bookshop. But they can’t. They just can’t right now.
They run until they stop over at a place that feels less populated by humans, with greenery around and a few benches. There’s even a lake where some of the swans flock by the edge of the water. They barely even noticed the way they heaved lightly at the speed they were going. The darkness of the afternoon sky did not improve their mood in the slightest.
Hand grabbing the end of an unoccupied bench, they settle down on the seat. Overwhelmed by the feeling they were trying to outrun, they end up hunched over with their hands covering their face. The eyes of their corporation begin to sting and they end up shaking their head.
Muriel seems to have unlocked another human ability: crying.
And oh, it feels so terrible.
They can even find difficulty in breathing; it makes their head spin. They try to press their fingers against their eyes lightly to dull the sting and tears but it doesn’t achieve much.
Once they stop pressing, they remove their fingers and press them against the sides of her nose instead, where their eyes are unprepared to the brightness of their surroundings.
But their eyes focus on something in front of them. Someone, even.
Ahead, there was a person with dark skin, fluffy pointed black hair and dark, tattered clothes. He seemed confused at the sight of them, tilting his head slightly in their direction.
Muriel straightens up, wipes the extra tears off their cheeks and tries to smile. “Y-yes?” ‘Oh, my voice sounds different! Human corporations truly are a curious thing.’
The person opens their mouth for a while but snaps it shut after a few seconds. He ends up asking, rather awkwardly, “Is…something wrong?”
Muriel is now reminded of their entire crying session before popping out a simple “Oh, uhm, well, I’m just…it’s just a bit much currently, but I’m fine thank you.”
The person nods but his eyes remain skeptical. Muriel tries to abate his worries by adding on other things. “It’s, well, there’s…” Muriel stutters for a while, a little frustrated before groaning exasperatedly and slumping over once again, elbows on their knees.
After sighing, Muriel asks. “Do you ever feel…unwelcome? Like an…an intruder in a place that’s meant to be for you? Like— like you don’t belong there b-but since the— er, someone told you that ‘it’s your place’ you have to try but it just…doesn’t fit?”
The little spiel surprisingly does not deter the person, instead he looks a little elated. “Oh, don’t I ever! Mind if I sit?” Muriel slides to the side to which the person sits beside them on the bench.
“Yeah, nah, I’ve been there really. My lot hasn’t been nice at all, though they’re not meant to be. I mean to them, I am quite literally disposable!”
Muriel gasps softly, gently clutching their tartan tie. “But that’s awful!” The person shrugs, “Ah, well, you get used to it after a while really. Especially one of my bosses?” He whistles, “He’s fond of taking things out on me.”
With eyebrows scrunched and a frown on their face, Muriel exclaims. “That sounds terrible! What…what do you do then?”
The person purses his lips before leaning closer to Muriel, whispering “Keep this a secret, yeah? But I sometimes just leave for a while. Escape it all. There’s plenty of other me’s where I’m from anyway, it keeps everyone else busy.” Muriel nods, relating. After all, they did just end up running away as well.
And they did feel marginally better after running and crying. Even if it was terrible at the moment.
Muriel nods, before leaning closer to the person and whispering back, “Not to worry, your secret’s safe with me!”
The person smiles brightly, eyes crinkling ever so slightly. Muriel notes that the person also has some long bottom lashes but they are not one to judge; some human fashions truly were beyond their understanding.
He takes out his hand and says, “Oh, forgot to mention, I’m Eric.” Muriel stares down at the hand, entirely unsure what to do with it. Eric tilts his head, “You’re supposed to shake it with your hand.” Muriel has a flash of understanding appear on their face, “Ohh. I see, well of course, I knew that. I was just uhm…wondering about something.” After taking Eric’s hand and giving it a shake, Muriel introduces themself. “My name’s Muriel, nice to meet you Eric!”
Eric nods enthusiastically. “Nice to meet you! Wow, no one has told that to me yet.” Muriel’s eyebrows scrunch, “Why not? You seem wonderful!” Eric’s face seems to darken, “You think so?” This time, it’s Muriel who nods and even gives a hum of affirmation. “You’re great! I hope your boss stops bothering you!” Eric winces slightly as his smile becomes apologetic, “Ah, he probably won’t. But I appreciate the thought.”
The sky rumbles slightly, and before any of them know it, it begins to rain. Fat droplets pelt the concrete floor and the bench in a loud manner. Both Muriel and Eric stand from their seat as a curious sound is heard, with Muriel using a miracle to summon an umbrella big enough for the two of them. The cream-colored canopy of the umbrella was opened to reveal the same tartan that decorated the pleats of their skirt and necktie.
“Where did you—“ Eric begins as the umbrella opens and almost squashes the top of his head. He takes the handle of the umbrella from Muriel’s hand and goes, “No, I’ll hold it.”
Muriel feels a little warm after the contact but brushes it off as a part of finally getting out of the rain. They giggle slightly, “Thank you!” The two of them stand there for a while, unsure of what to do next. Muriel leans their weight on one leg to the next before asking, “Umm…do you want to come with me to where I stay? It’s just…raining so hard and I don’t know where you’d go.”
Eric raises an eyebrow, “Are you sure?” Muriel waves their hands a little to get rid of the wetness while answering “Of course! You really did help me out there a while ago, this is the least I could do.” For some reason, Eric feels a little giddy but that’s probably just the cold. “Okay then, lead the way Muriel!”
With a happy little gasp, they began to walk through the streets of London, with Eric making sure that his grip on the umbrella did not move too much that Muriel’s cream outfit would get splashed by the rain.
Eric doesn’t seem fond of the idea of dirt being around Muriel at all.
And he ends up on a very familiar looking street, in front of a very familiar bookshop.
“Muriel?”
“Yes?”
“You live here?”
“Well yes! The uh…owner currently isn’t here so I’m taking care of the bookshop.” Muriel explains as they scour through their pockets for the keys. Once they find them, they open the door before gesturing to Eric, “Come on, get inside, it’s freezing!”
Eric doesn’t move, expression rather wary. He eyes Muriel carefully. “I’d…rather not, I’ll just go ahead.” Just as he was about to place the umbrella down, Muriel steps out again. “No, no, what are you doing, you’ll get wet!”
Muriel gently holds Eric’s hand that held the wooden handle of the umbrella. With a small squeeze, Muriel stresses. “Please keep it. It’s really…If you really have to go, at least keep this with you, it’s pouring really heavily out there!” Eric stops himself as he stares down at Muriel, who seems insistent on the offer.
Humans weren’t always the nicest to him, to the point it reminds him of the other demons at Hell. Some days, even when he escaped to Up Top, barely anything has changed with the way others look at him, treat him like trash.
Humans were just a little more quiet about it. Doesn’t make it any less scathing though.
But Muriel seemed genuine. Nice even. He supposed it was a good thing that he stopped once he saw them crying in St. James’s Park.
Muriel…Muriel was Good, he decided. And he’s a demon. He doesn’t think he deserves to be anywhere near them.
He exhales before saying, “I’ll be fine in the rain. Used to the uncomfortable, remember?” Muriel does not let go of his hand. “That doesn’t mean it’s right! You have to keep it. Please. I…I’ll worry and…oh my goodness, are you sure you don’t want to get inside?”
That was an easy question to answer for Eric. He shakes his head before saying, “No, I’m good really. Thank you, I’ll…I’ll keep the umbrella.” At this, Muriel relaxes their hold and lets go as Eric slightly grins. “Wouldn’t want you to worry now, would I?”
Muriel smiles slightly. “Thank you again, Eric, for today.” Eric looks away, eyes averting from the sight of Muriel’s smile while shrugging one shoulder. “It’s nothing really, thanks for the umbrella.”
Once again, they are greeted with silence, the other person not knowing what to say. Eric decides to walk down the steps of the bookshop, the same one he had stormed in on a month ago.
Muriel leans against the door frame before biting their lip and greeting Eric goodbye. “Hope to see you again!” Eric turns around and waves in response, “You too!” The grin on his face was visible from the light of the streetlights, which soothed Muriel somewhat.
They finally entered the bookshop and closed the doors. Eric’s eyes stayed at the door frame for a while before finally walking away, switching the hand that held the handle of the umbrella to another.
Now with that hand free, he flexes it a little, still a little tingly from when Muriel held it earlier.
= • =
Once inside, Muriel does a slicing motion as the lights of the bookshop turn back on. They lean against the doors, still reeling from the emotional storm out they had from running away.
And partly some other thing that they have no idea how to categorize but they’ll leave that for another day.
After miracling themselves dry, their AngelPhone lets out a ping where they check the screen.
Notice: Overuse of frivolous miracles! Consider this a warning!
They let out a wince but for some reason, they don’t feel too apologetic about it. After setting their AngelPhone down, they look back at the bookshop and all the warm lights that surround it.
And they start talking. “I’m sorry.” Of course, the bookshop doesn’t respond, Muriel doesn’t expect it too but they continue. “I know I’m not Aziraphale, I can’t be him. But…I promise, I’m trying my best. I just…want this place to feel loved again. Everything’s been so different and it feels all so difficult. And…”
They trail off, feeling rather (as the Metatron called them) dim. But they strengthened their resolve. “When Aziraphale comes back, and I know he will, we’re going to show him how loved this place feels. I can do this. We can do this.”
Once again, the bookshop doesn’t respond and it doesn’t need to, as Muriel gives a victorious smile. They pat the side of their legs again before walking around, “Now, what else can we fix here?”
Muriel may not have noticed it at the time, but something shifted in the bookshop. It became just a tad bit warmer, the tightness of the air got looser, as it accepted its new Caretaker.
Muriel was right. They can do this.
= • =
Eric has no reason to keep the umbrella, really. And while Hell was damp, it doesn’t actually rain down there. Not only that but the color of it would stand out a lot; it’s too bright and clean compared to the utter disastrous mess that is Hell. He could even trash the umbrella, for all he cares.
Except he does. He usually does not mind the occasional littering and mischief, he even thrives in it. But in this instance, he doesn’t have it in him to throw it away.
So he doesn’t. He keeps it in another pocket dimension, one close enough that he could reach for it if he needed.
But overall, this little excursion on Earth was definitely interesting. For no particular reason whatsoever, he might even start dropping by more often.
And if he uses a miracle to make sure that no one else sits at their bench, well, not like Hell particularly cares about excessive demonic miracle usage.
Besides, the reason was selfish. He just doesn’t want to sit anywhere else. With anyone else except for one bright person with a heavenly smile.
‘Heavenly, hah! Isn’t that funny?’