Work Text:
“My Dear, you have been studying the walls in here for the last two hours. What in Heaven’s name are you looking for?”
Crowley startled from his, he thought, discrete scanning of the flaking paint work in one corner of the bookshop’s front room. Trust Aziraphale to see through his casual sprawl across the couch while he waited on the angel to finish his bookwork. The two of them were going for lunch at an interesting little spot Crowley had seen reviews for that he thought Aziraphale might like, but he supposed turning up three hours early, when he was usually only now slithering out of bed, was a bit of a giveaway that something was up. Not removing his sunglasses was another.
Didn’t stop him from trying to deflect the question.
“Ah, well, ghm… I was just, sort of thinking you need a replaster and paint in here." Crowley pointed and waved his hands around vaguely to illustrate his point, "I mean, look at those cracks up there! And I’m sure the pillars have been that shade of yellow since you opened the place. Have you thought of maybe a nice black or slate grey? Very stylish.”
Aziraphale put his pen down next to his tea cup in a decidedly annoyed fashion, and turned to scrutinise the demon over the top of his reading glasses. Usually, Crowley thought they looked rather fetching on the angel, but right now they just added to the withering look, and Crowley was unpleasantly reminded that Aziraphale was personally chosen by God to guard one of the gates of the Garden. It was not the flaming sword that was intimidating when he cared to be so.
“I rather like the colour, and there are only as many cracks as I allow. Your ears are as red as your scaled belly, my dear.” Aziraphale pushed his chair away from his desk, turning to face Crowley with his whole body, “Now, I’ve noticed you scanning the walls hundreds of times over the years. This isn’t your ‘bored and looking around for something to do’ sprawl, this is your ‘trying to look bored while actually paying attention’ sprawl. I’ve ignored it until now because I didn’t want you to leave and not come back for the next decade, but I think we’re beyond that now.” His face softened, “So please tell me, what are you looking for?”
Crowley sighed and sat up into a less relaxed slump, rubbing his eyes with his glasses still on as he did so. The demon knew his cheeks were burning too now. He was just thankful Aziraphale was being patient, waiting for him to answer.
“It’s kind of embarrassing… I lost something in here.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. I mean, I left it in here on purpose because I knew it would be safe, and it was for you anyway, but then I forgot exactly where I put it in here. And you do have a LOT more books in here than when you first opened, so it’s probably behind a bookshelf or something, and when did you get that cooking section anyway?”
Aziraphale’s whole demeanour had relaxed as Crowley stumbled over his words, and now he was smiling with curious delight, head tipped to the side as he scrutinised the demon in a quite different way now.
“For me? Why didn’t you just give it to me back then?”
“Well, I've actually had it a lot longer than that. I mean originally, I may have whispered in some ears because you mentioned you had to travel so much to read all the old works, and all the new ones. But I didn’t want to actually tell you I had a hand in it because you would have thought I’d done it for work! It was BC and all, and honestly I didn’t even know why I did that. I get it NOW. But… then the fire…”
Smoke, panic as scrolls burned around him, the strain as he pulled off one of the biggest miracles he’d ever done. He’d had to sleep a whole week after that, but first he had to lie to Head Office about why he’d used such a massive infernal miracle in Egypt. They gave him a commendation based on his lie.
The older memory tried to dredge up a newer one. He shivered, but pushed that aside to remember the aftermath of the older memory. Crowley shrank in on himself and his eyes went blind as he recalled Aziraphale’s rage. It was over a week later, but the angel still smelled of the fire, hadn’t miracled away the ash and acrid smell of burning papyrus clinging to his robes. Unlike Crowley who miracled himself clean as soon as he was done lying to Hell about setting the fire; he’d still felt like the death the angel smelt of.
A sour note entered his voice as he confessed, “I wasn’t exactly feeling generous after being accused of something I didn’t do. I mean, I lied to Hell about it, but I didn’t actually DO it, I told you that! And anyway I wasn’t sure where we stood. It was before the Arrangement, and you wouldn’t talk to me for DECADES afterwards! …And by that point I just felt a bit silly, for what I did.”
Crowley, lost in the details of his memories, hadn’t noticed the angel move until his hands were being gently cradled in Aziraphale’s own. Looking up from his lap and into Aziraphale’s loving eyes, it soothed a place inside him he didn’t realise still hurt so much.
Aziraphale gestured towards Crowley’s glasses, and the demon nodded, allowing them to be gently removed and tucked away in his coat. Crouching on the floor in front of him, his angel's thumb gently caressed the back of Crowley’s hand as he spoke.
“I’m sorry. That has happened so often, I don’t even know which occasion you are referring to. I’m just glad I believed you when you said you had nothing to do with all the horrible things the Nazis were doing… Now, what are you looking for Crowley, my dear? I’m happy to help you hunt for it.”
“I left the entrance to a pocket dimension on your wall, somewhere.”
The angel’s blue eyes went comically wide. “You what?”
“I’ve made them before, and I’ve gotten pretty good at it over the centuries since then. Where did you think we went with Adam during the battle? Pocket dimension constructed on the spot! You know how my flat is out of proportion for the building? I mean, it’s a bit lazy, but it’s MUCH bigger on the inside. Got a whole pool in there and everything! Did you know I got accused by Hastur once of being a ‘Renaissance Demon’, whatever that means, just because I like keeping up with science stuff? Didn’t let any more coworkers into my place after that, and I hid my books. My library has nothing on your bookshop, but it’s not bad-”
“Love, you’re babbling, but you simply must show me your library sometime. I had no idea you had one!”
Crowley felt a sly smile tugging at his lips, “Angel, you have no idea. Help me, please?”
…
They ended up missing their reservation. Aziraphale insisted they call to apologise and reschedule when he realised they were never going to make it. Even with Crowley’s driving. But it was worth it when they found it, an ancient symbol that meant ‘safety from fire’, made of cracks and chipped paint on the north-western wall that Aziraphale had covered up with a bookcase in the early 1800s. Coincidentally, the bookcase in question contained herpetology texts, as well as a misplaced volume on cryptography.
With a touch from Crowley’s hand the mark grew and twisted, until a full sized and ancient door stood in the outer wall of the shop. It was of a style vaguely familiar to them. With a flourish, the demon swung it open.
Crowley hadn’t been in here in hundreds of years, even before he placed the entrance in the bookshop. He had decided that keeping here was the best, as he often moved houses and apartments, seemingly whenever Hell thought it would be most annoying to him, and had often had to break back in to retrieve the easily misplaced room. Though calling it a room was an understatement.
Much like where Crowley and Aziraphale had given Adam the pep talk, the series of Greeko-Egyptian style stone rooms looked out onto the endless white sands that had once surrounded the Garden of Eden. A light breeze rustled gauzy fabric that hung across entrance ways and windows, blocking some of the light and heat of an invisible sun that kept the place pleasantly warm and dry. In fact, what little of the sky could be seen seemed to in fact be a night sky that could never exist on Earth, but had been seen by the two of them before it all began. This room and all the others had tables and chairs for serious academic study, as well as couches for serious academic lounging. The rooms of the building were more marked out with shelving rather than actual walls, the roof held up with great pillars instead of actual, practical architecture. A small water feature bubbled in the middle of the next room, audible but not intrusive.
Overall the dimension was familiar, welcoming and comfortable; the only thing to mar the peaceful atmosphere was the still present scent of smoke in the air, even after all these centuries.
Around this room, in shelves, on tables and chairs, but mostly the floor, was piles of scrolls, scroll cases, sheets of papyrus, and codacies. They were thrown across the floor, as if tossed there in a hurry, but all of them perfectly preserved, as though they had been left there yesterday rather than millennia ago.
Both the angel and the demon were seemingly holding their breath as they entered the space, but for very different reasons.
Crowley felt a slight twinge of guilt as he looked around. The demon didn't tend to keep a lot of possessions himself, not because he didn't like stuff but because he didn't like organising things. It was a miracle in and of itself that his library had any sort of order, but when Aziraphale would eventually see it later he wouldn't be able to put into words what the order was. The word 'vibes' was involved though.
Crowley had come in here a few times over the millennia, attempting to sort the mess, but every time he would get bored after a few hours and leave. He spied a suspiciously medieval goblet on a table, still half filled with wine, and wondered if he should scoop it up before his angel noticed it.
Aziraphale bent down and gently picked up a loose sheet of papyrus. Crowley could just see the familiar Old Arabic handwriting over his shoulder, and knew the caught breath he heard was because Aziraphale recognised it too. The angel had been working on that translation of Hipparchus the very morning of the fire.
That was when Aziraphale collapsed. His knees hit the floor with a thud and he looked around as though a mortal man shown the divine. He was silent for so long that Crowley started to fidget.
"Sorry."
Aziraphale looked around at him, finally. There were silent tears running down his face, but he looked utterly confused by Crowley’s apology.
"Whatever for, my dear?"
"I… I'm sorry I didn't tell you I saved all this. I couldn't get everything, but I did my best, what with the whole building burning, and not getting there quick enough. But I just… you loved working there…"
The angel blinked at him. Crowley had put his glasses back on some time since entering the room.
"...My dear, can you please help me up?"
With a sudden jerk and an awkwardly exclaimed "Ah, yep!" Crowley leapt across the gap between them to help, only to be yanked down to the floor by his scaly scarf and violently kissed by a slightly damp-faced angel.
Once he got the gist of the situation Crowley reached up to stroke Aziraphale’s cheek, forcing the kiss to slow and gentle out, closing his eyes and enjoying the light bergamot flavour on the angel’s tongue, as well as the slight ache in his front teeth from his enthusiasm.
When the kiss broke an inhuman few minutes later they stayed there, foreheads touching, just breathing each other in.
Aziraphale spoke first, his voice deeply fond.
"If I had known you saved the Library of Alexandria for me I would have fallen in love with you two thousand years earlier. But as it is," Aziraphale’s thumb stroked Crowley’s bottom lip thoughtfully, "I can't decide if I want to keep kissing you or explore this wonderful thing you've given me. To think, you had this, all this time…"
Crowley felt as though he was staring at the birth of starlight again.
"Go explore, Angel. I'll just go get us some wine and watch you have your fill."
They spent a good few days in that extra dimensional space, Aziraphale absolutely shining as he swept about, organising and bitching about Crowley’s haphazard handling of the priceless works, Crowley drinking him in, drinking, or napping at intervals. The angel also took time to thoroughly thank his demon for his wonderful gift, on several couches and under the stars outside.
It was a long lost gift, greatly appreciated.