Chapter Text
If you wanted to understand Dr. David Hampson, Ph.D., psychologist and amateur musician, then you should know that he always referred to himself in his thoughts as Davey. None of his friends called him this, but he used to have a wife who did. It reminded him of his youth, and he liked how the sound of it fit into a rhythm. You should also know that Davey often had a Jimmy Buffett song stuck in his head, no matter how long it had been since he’d last heard one. Today was unusual in this regard, because what he had stuck in his head was The Piña Colada Song by Rupert Holmes. Davey liked piña coladas and getting stuck in the rain, under the right circumstances. He also liked yoga, although he wasn’t dextrous enough for it these days.
You might also want to know that, this morning, Davey had pulled out a particularly worn pair of socks while getting dressed, which he only realized once he felt a hole forming right over his big toe. But Davey wasn’t the sort to let something like that put a damper on his day.
Davey liked to get to work early, even when he didn’t have any appointments until later on. He would spend the early hours reading emails, writing up his case notes, and browsing through musical instruments listed on Craigslist in case anything good showed up, although it rarely did. He never had too many clients these days, because he didn’t need the money and he enjoyed getting to maintain a relaxed schedule. It made it easy for him to make time for his band’s regular practices and irregular gigs, which was a priority for him.
Today wasn’t going to be too busy, but it was going to be a busier day than usual. This was because he had an in-take assessment scheduled, and those took longer and required more preparation. This in-take happened to be a last minute upset to his schedule, and it had come as a surprise to him that it could even be booked in the first place.
“I’d love to meet with you,” Davey had said, apologetically, when he had been called up by a fellow looking to initiate therapy, “but I’m all booked up for months.”
“Are you sure?” The fellow had said, through a poor connection that crackled.
Davey had been sure. And yet. Right there in his calendar was a blank spot, just a few days away, which he had somehow completely overlooked before. “How about that…I’ve got Wednesday at eleven, if you can make that work.”
“What a miracle,” the fellow had said, “that would be just the perfect time.”
***
When Davey met the fellow, he quickly sized him up as kind-hearted and complicated.
With this fellow, there were a certain number of immediate impressions that formed when you met him. First, Davey could tell, this fellow was English. The accent was a dead giveaway, and Davey looked forward to learning all about how an English fellow had ended up here, in Rochester, New York. Second, he was intelligent. When Davey had looked into the fellow’s gorgeous blue eyes, he’d seen how they sparkled with intent and curiosity. He wasn’t the sort of person who put much truck in the concept of intelligence as a global and consistent personality trait, to be honest, but he liked getting to work with folk who were inclined to wax philosophical now and again. Davey’s third immediate impression about this fellow was perhaps the most notable, the most undeniable, and the most telling: he didn’t fit in.
He just didn’t. He didn’t look like he could fit in, even if he tried. It was clear from how he dressed, how he styled himself, his whole general demeanor as he walked into Davey’s office. You didn’t look the way that this fellow looked, especially not when meeting with a psychologist for the first time, if you found it easy to manage your expectations of others and their expectations of you. You looked the way this fellow looked, if there was some aspect of your identity that you were desperate to hold on to, even when it came at a staggering interpersonal price.
Now, not fitting in could be a good thing. It could be a very good thing, in fact, as Davey well knew. The problem was just how often it became the seed of heartbreak and sorrow. Which was something that anyone with a disposition not to fit in certainly knew.
Davey may not have had this at the forefront of his thoughts as he made these first few assumptions about his newest client, but in a deep and warm center of his mind, he set for himself a keen goal: he was going to work and work hard so that, someday, this fellow could come into Davey’s office and know this was a place where he did fit in, exactly as he was.
Once the fellow had taken two steps into Davey’s office, he surprised Davey by making a beeline straight to the magnet collection.
“Ah!” The fellow said, raising a remarkably well-manicured finger to tap at a miniature Big Ben. “You’ve been to London, have you?”
There were a lot of things that Davey liked about his office, but something he didn’t like about it was the whiteboard it had running along one of the walls. It made the space look clinical, which wasn’t the right sort of vibe for Davey. So, a while ago, he’d covered that whiteboard up with his collection of souvenir magnets from around the world. It was a sizable collection, and not even the stuffiest clinician with the stuffiest-something stuffed up his stuffiest-somewhere could make a wall full of little colorful magnets feel clinical.
“Afraid not.” Davey chuckled the way a companionable person chuckles when they have to correct you. “That was a gift from a friend, actually, after I did a favor for her.”
“Ah.” The fellow took a half-step back from the whiteboard, now taking in the rest of the collection. “And–all of these. Are they all from places you have not been?”
“Oh, no, no.” There was something a little tragic about that idea, wasn’t there? Davey waved it away. “Not at all. Some are my own, others are from friends. I just like to keep them all in one big hodgepodge, so I’ve got memories and dreams all mixed up together.”
The thing that Davey had just said was actually true. He was in fact the sort of person who would not only think something like that but actually say it out loud to someone else. On purpose, even.
… If you like piña coladas …
Davey smiled.
The fellow ran his eyes over Davey’s magnet collection for another moment. Then, when the fellow gave Davey the chance, he motioned in the direction of his comfy chairs. There was nothing wrong at all with the fellow taking as much time as he wanted to get to know Davey by all the things on display in his office, but this fellow seemed like the sort who would appreciate being given some direction.
Davey talked as they both sat down. “When we spoke on the phone, I don’t think our connection was too good. I’m afraid I didn’t catch your name.”
The fellow flashed an understanding smile, as he got comfortable in his chair. “Yes. It’s Aziraphale.”
The moment had yet to be realized when Davey would be able to refer to this fellow by anything other than this fellow.
“Come again?”
“Aziraphale.”
“One more time?”
“Aziraphale.”
At least the fellow was being patient about it. Davey prodded a tooth with his tongue. “How about I get you to spell that out for me.”
The fellow was amenable, but Davey had to stop him until he could get something to write with. His chair was getting old, and it squeaked whenever he got in or out of it, but he had to get up in order to find a notepad and pen. Davey didn’t have anything to write with close to his chair to begin with, because he didn’t like to take notes while meeting with clients. It could clam a person right up, if they felt like you were observing and assessing them right from the start, and there was nothing Davey valued more in his work than giving the people who came to him a chance to feel like their authentic selves. Also, there was the fact that over the years Davey had developed an absolutely fantastic grandfather-shaped belly, and that made writing on a notepad while sitting in his chair less than ideal.
The first pen he tried didn’t work, but the second one did.
“Alright,” Davey said once he was back in his chair and all situated.
The fellow was very polite in how he had waited this long, and in how he additionally waited until Davey had readied his pen. Then he said, “A.”
“Mmhmm.” Davey wrote down an A.
The fellow said, “Zed.”
After a quick rush of mental arithmetic, Davey wrote down a Z. “Got it.”
“I.”
Davey wondered if the fellow would continue without being prompted. The answer turned out to be no. So, Davey repeated, “I.”
“R.”
“R.”
“A.”
“A.”
“P.”
“P.”
“H.”
“H.”
“A.”
“Another A.”
“L.”
“L.”
“E.”
“E.”
“Aziraphale.” The fellow smiled.
What in this great big beautiful world kind of name was that? Davey had to give his mind a chance to work its way around it.
“Now that’s unique,” Davey said. “I gotta wonder what it’s like, going through life with a unique name like that.”
“Hm.” The fellow wasn’t perturbed. “I do often go by Ezra. Mr. Ezra Fell. It’s easier.”
“Aziraphale Fell…” Davey sounded it out, tried to get the hang of it. He wasn’t a judgmental sort of person, or at least he didn’t think of himself that way, but there were some circumstances where just about anyone would have to really work at it to see the world from a different point of view. The name was a weird one, and Davey at first thought he couldn’t imagine ever coming across a name like that at any other point in his life. But then something clicked, and realization dawned in an exciting and rewarding way. “Oh! Like Israfel! The angel!”
The fellow Aziraphale’s whole face lit up with all the light in the world. “Yes! Exactly!”
“Well, I’ll be.”
“I haven’t heard that pronunciation in quite a while,” the fellow said with pleasure. “That does take me back.”
“Huh!” Davey felt how the fellow was practically glowing from the recognition, and he liked it. He chuckled. “I’m guessing, you must have some pretty religious parents.”
All that light in the fellow’s face faltered, and then it drained away. Davey didn’t understand it.
“Yes.” Aziraphale’s voice was much quieter all the sudden. “I suppose so.”
Well, Davey sure had just stepped in it. Now the two of them would have to start all over again. “So. Tell me what brings you here.”
“Yes. You see, I received a referral. To you.”
“Is that so?” Davey got an occasional referral, but not that many.
The fellow nodded. “From Miss Thyme.”
The name didn’t ring any immediate bells for Davey, and it showed on his face.
“Miss Thyme?” Aziraphale tried again. “From–down the hall? She has an office just down that way. Miss Aubrey Thyme?”
“Oh! Aubrey! Of course.” Davey knew who he meant now, and he was happy to realize that they had encountered a small bit of kismet. “Wouldn’t you know, she’s the one who gave me that Big Ben.”
“Huh!” Aziraphale said, because he too enjoyed the chance to recognize small coincidences.
“Yeah, I looked after her office for her, not too long ago, when she was on vacation.”
“Vacation,” Aziraphale repeated for some reason or another. “To London, was it?”
“Something like that. I actually have another one from her…” Davey peered over at his collection, which wasn’t very close to where they were seated. He was looking for the other magnet he knew he’d gotten from Aubrey previously, but he gave up quickly. After all, Davey had a lot of magnets, and this was just small-talk. “Anyway. She really is a hoot, isn’t she.”
Davey enjoyed the chance to learn new things. Just now, he had learned that, when attempting to form a compliment for a woman he didn’t know very well, he called her a hoot.
Aziraphale maintained a pleasant expression, but his eyes had taken on an inscrutable gleam. “Indeed.”
Back to business. “So, you were referred here.”
“Yes,” Aziraphale said.
This would be a good chance for the fellow to continue on, explaining his circumstances. He didn’t. He stayed quiet. His mind was all blocked up, and he didn’t know how to let any of it out.
Davey would give him all the time he needed. He asked, “How long have you been in the States?”
“Oh, not very long at all.” The answer came quickly, because Aziraphale was glad to know what to say. “Just a quick pop over for this.”
Davey was confused. “What do you mean?”
“For this appointment?” Aziraphale tried to explain, but he was confused in turn by Davey’s confusion. “I’ll be heading back, once we’re done.”
“Huh,” Davey said.
He did like this fellow, he really did. He still had the strong sense that they’d have a good time, working together. It was the darndest thing, though, how much they kept falling into miscommunication.
The fellow smiled, and he waited for the chance to answer another question.
“Well…” Davey stretched out a shoulder. He was done with the notepad and pen, so he let them fall from his hand onto the floor beside his chair. “One thing I think it’s important for us to do, right out the gate, is figure out what we’re hoping to get accomplished with our time together.”
“Oh yes.” Aziraphale nodded. Without a direct question, though, he didn’t give a direct answer.
“So…What do you think?” Davey had eyes that could go wide with joy and ecstasy but could also narrow and peer at the person sitting across from him. Davey liked how it felt when he gave all the attention and care that someone needed for them to reason through a puzzle.
… and gettin’ caught in the rain …
Davey prompted again, “What would be some good goals for you and me?”
This fellow was earnest, and he was feeling deficient. “I’m afraid I really don’t know.”
“Huh.” Davey nodded intentionally. That answer wasn’t deficient at all. Davey was perfectly content to sit here with this fellow and his uncertainty.
Aziraphale smiled apologetically.
But Davey chuckled in that companionable way of his. No apology was needed. “You’d be surprised just how many people walk through that door and sit in that chair, without any idea why they’ve come here.”
“Is that so?” Even the hint of commonality provided an opportunity for hope.
“Mmhmm.” …If you’re not into yoga, If you have half a brain … “Happens all the time.”
Just that little bit, sometimes, was all it took to make someone feel right as rain. What everyone needed, in some way or another, was to know that they weren’t out of place.
… Write to me and escape…
“And I’ll be clear about something.” Davey leaned himself forward in his chair, toward this sweet earnest fellow who couldn’t even say what had gotten him to pay all the money it cost for an in-take assessment with a psychologist, “I ain’t never going to kick you out, just because you don’t know how to answer some silly question I’m fool enough to ask.”
The fellow responded to that. He laughed, quick and small, from some frisson of relief. Davey smiled in return, to help stretch out this moment of camaraderie, to make it count. He liked this fellow, Aziraphale, and he knew for sure that, together, they had the opportunity to do real good work.