Chapter Text
“What do you mean I can’t just miracle money anymore?” Asked indignant at the suggestion.
“Because Crowley! The neighbors are getting suspicious,” Aziraphale whispered conspiratorially.
“The Gadless’s? I don’t care what they think!”
Aziraphale got all anxious and fidgety as he leaned down and whispered to Crowley.
“Well dear we seem well off but you never leave the house so the neighbors are under the impression you’re my…um…sugarbaby.”
“SUGAR BABY?!”
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“Hob did you hear that?”
“I told you he was a sugar baby!” Hob shouted from the kitchen.
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So reluctantly Crowley went job hunting. It was not going well… he couldn’t tempt the interviewers since they had no souls and apparently you need college degrees now to even do minimum wage jobs.
“Aziraphale, I’m going to miracle a degree. Which university should I say I went to?”
“That’s cheating! We’re living among humans we must do things like them.”
Crowley stood dumbfounded, “you want me to go to university?”
“If it gets you out of the house, yes.”
And so because Crowley does whatever Aziraphale wants he enrolled at the local university. History major, he was there for most of it so should be an easy A, it practically felt like cheating which soothed his demonic heart. Aziraphale insisted on dressing him up and taking pictures for the first day of school, much to Crowley’s dismay. So finally after all that fuss, Crowley makes it to his first class. “Literature’s influence throughout history from Gutenberg to Twight with Professor G ,”
Stupid name for a class but he had heard incredible things about the professor so he just had to see for himself.
Which leads us to,
“YOU!”
“YOU!”
“What are you doing here?”
“This is my job! Are you stalking me?” There stood his neighbor, Hob Gadless and apparently Professor G.
“No I’m a student! If I had known YOU were teaching this class I would’ve taken the Shakespeare class,”
“Shakespeare that twat,” Hob mumbled under his breath.
“You don’t like Shakespeare? How are you going to teach a class about literature without talking about him,”
Hob rolls his eyes. “I have a module on him, it’s as short as I could make it. Marlow was better.”
Crowley leaned in conspiratorially. “You know I heard Shakespeare had the help of some demonic intervention,”
“It was not demonic,”
What was he talking about?
Some more students had arrived so Crowley decided to sit down to draw less attention to himself.
“So you’re Anthony J. Crowley?” Hob asked looking at the roster.
“Yep.”
“What’s the J stand for?”
“Jessica,”
Hob simply nodded.
The class was surprisingly not bad, besides Hob’s grating voice it was quite informative. Almost too informative.
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“Angel!”
“Yes dear, how was school?” Aziraphale asked looking up from his baking.
“Hob’s an angel, the bad kind,”
Aziraphale froze. “W-what brought you to that conclusion?”
“He’s my professor! He knows too much about history, like he was actually there! And he said Shakespeare’s wasn’t demonically influenced! That means he made a deal with old Willy shakes!”
Aziraphale shuttered, “you don’t think he’s working with Heaven do you?”
“No angel I think he’s like us, his husband’s a demon clearly,”
Aziraphale crossed his arms and huffed, “Morpheus is a delight, why do you think he’s a demon?”
“Look at him! All dark and brooding. And that subterranean voice of his. And what kind of human name is Morpheus anyway! Angel, I think they are like us!”
Aziraphale perked up. “Does that mean you’ll play nice, and try to befriend Robert?”
Crowley laughed, long and loudly.
“Oh no Angel, no no no. I’m about to make his life a living hell.”