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Muriel was very excited to start their new job.
They were going to work as a SEN teaching assistant at their old secondary school. This was very exciting for a number of reasons. Firstly, Muriel loved kids and teenagers. Secondly, they loved helping people. Thirdly, they especially loved helping kids and teenagers. It was truly their dream job.
Muriel would also be working especially closely with the disabled students at the school, which made them very happy. This way, they would be able to provide the support and help they themself had never gotten when they’d gone to school.
The first few weeks of their job was a whirlwind of preparations, introductions and tasks. Muriel was surprised by how tired it made them, but they figured they’d settle into the routine of this new job eventually.
They loved the teens! A lot of them were a bit mean, but they were all still very lovely. And helping them made Muriel feel very happy. There was just something so wonderful about being able to explain a complicated thing to a teen and then watch their face light up as they finally got it.
Muriel also loved the staff. They especially grew a liking to Aziraphale, the English teacher. He was a very sweet, somewhat old man who always smiled very brightly at Muriel when the two of them passed in the halls. He also dressed almost exclusively in white and pastel colored clothes, just like Muriel, which made Muriel feel that the two of them had a special unspoken connection.
Aziraphale spent a lot of time with Crowley, the Physics and Biology teacher. Their aesthetics and personalities could not be more different — with Crowley being known as the “emo teacher” or the “goth teacher” — so this very much perplexed Muriel. But opposites attract and all that, they supposed.
Nina and Maggie were another pair of teachers who were very close. In fact, they were very similar to Aziraphale and Crowley, with one being very happy and sunshine-y and the other being a lot … less cheery.
Muriel liked all the staff, honestly. They were a little afraid of the Boss, who never ever showed Their face at the school, but apart from that, Muriel loved everyone.
And it seemed like everyone liked Muriel. Which was very good.
For a while, they hadn’t been able to eat in the staff room — they’d been so stressed that they hadn’t really managed to sit down and eat, so they’d settled for eating their lunch while walking between classrooms. But eventually Muriel settled into the routine of everything and managed to calm down a bit. Which also meant that they started eating their lunch in the staff room with the other teachers.
“How are you settling into the job?” Maggie asked Muriel, giving them a big smile. Nina sat beside Maggie, a cup of black coffee in one hand and her other hand on Maggie’s thigh.
“It’s so great!” Muriel exclaimed. “Oh, I really, really love it. I feel like I’m helping so many kids who are very similar to me, you know? And I think a lot of them like me, which is so great, because I was afraid that they’d all think I was weird.”
The corners of Maggie’s lips turned a little downward. “Why would they think you were weird?”
“Oh, you know.” Muriel shrugged. “Lots of reasons. I could write a whole list if you wanted that. But I suppose most of it boils down to me being autistic and a lot of people thinking autistic people are weird.”
Maggie made a sympathetic noise, while Nina’s grip on her coffee cup tightened.
“Well, none of us think you’re weird, Muriel,” Maggie said reassuringly.
“Oh, good,” Muriel said, breathing out a sigh of relief.
“If anyone gives you shit about your autism, just send them to me, yeah?” Nina said, a somewhat scary look in her eyes.
“Okay!”
Crowley — who had been sitting in a corner, drinking what looked like wine but couldn’t possibly be because that wasn’t allowed — suddenly spoke up, “Or you can send them to me.”
Muriel smiled. “Okay!”
Nina looked over at Crowley, chuckling. “How ‘bout we share?”
Crowley snorted and opened his mouth to say something, but he was interrupted by the door opening and Aziraphale walking in.
“Hello, everyone!” Aziraphale said cheerily, looking around the room. His eyes focused on Crowley for a little longer than everyone else. “Hi, Crowley.”
“Hey, angel,” Crowley said, his voice soft in a way it never was with anyone else.
Muriel looked between the two of them, something finally clicking in their mind.
“Oh my gosh, I can’t believe I didn’t realize until now that the two of you are together!” Muriel exclaimed. They looked at Aziraphale’s hands, looking for a ring but didn’t find one. “Are you married? Or just dating?”
Although Muriel couldn’t see Crowley’s eyes (because of his sunglasses), they did see the way his eyebrows immediately shot up, almost touching his hairline. They also saw the way Aziraphale’s cheeks turned a bright pink.
“What?” Aziraphale said with a laugh that sounded a little weird. “Oh, no, no, no, we’re not- He and I aren’t- It’s not-”
“It’s not like that,” Crowley said, cutting Aziraphale off.
“Right,” Aziraphale agreed. “It’s not like that. We’re old friends.”
Muriel nodded, suddenly feeling very embarrassed. They’d misread the situation, just as they so often did.
“Oh, I’m so sor–” they started saying, but Nina cut them off.
“What d’you mean, ‘it’s not like that’?” she said, looking between Crowley and Aziraphalee, clearly confused. “Aren’t you two married?”
“No,” Crowley said between gritted teeth.
“Why would you think that?” Aziraphale said with that weird laugh again.
“Uh, because you seem really fucking married,” Nina exclaimed. She turned to Maggie. “Right, honey?”
Maggie nodded. She looked a little sheepish when she said, “I’ve honestly thought you two were a couple ever since I started working here. I just, well, I assumed you weren't the biggest fan of public affection.”
“But, I mean, you call him angel for heaven’s sake!” Nina said to Crowley.
“Inside joke,” he said, shrugging.
Aziraphale looked around the rest of the staff room. All the other teachers were watching the conversation with curious and surprised looks on their faces.
“Did all of you think that Crowley and I were a couple?” Aziraphale asked.
“Yes,” all the teachers said, almost in complete unison. Muriel was a little impressed.
Aziraphale’s mouth fell open. Crowley huffed, stood up, and left without another word. Aziraphale watched him leave with a look on his face that Muriel couldn’t read.
Muriel looked around at the rest of the teachers. For once in their life, Muriel wasn’t the only one who had hugely misunderstood a situation. This should make them happy, shouldn’t it? But it didn’t. It just gave them a very strange feeling in their chest. An urge to help — which was normal for them — but they didn’t have any clue how to help or even really who to help — which was not as normal for them.
Since no one had followed after Crowley, and that seemed like something someone should do in this situation, Muriel decided to be that person.
“Muriel, where are you going?” Aziraphale asked as Muriel opened the door.
“I’m following after Crowley, sir,” Muriel answered. They closed the door and rushed down the hallway before Aziraphale could object.
After only a little while, Muriel found Crowley sitting outside smoking.
Muriel sat down beside him. “Are you allowed to smoke on school grounds?”
Crowley shrugged. “Don’t know, don’t care.”
“Oh, all right.” Muriel tapped their fingers together nervously. “Mr. Crowley, sir…”
“Not Mr. and not sir,” Crowley corrected.
“Hm?”
“You’re not the only one here who doesn’t fit neatly into the gender binary.”
“Oh.” Muriel smiled, unable to stop themself. “Cool. Well, do you still want to be called he and him?”
Crowley shrugged. “S’fine. Doesn’t really matter, I suppose. But I hate being called Mr. It’s … not me.”
“All right,” Muriel said. “Thank you for telling me.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”
“But, uhm … I did have something I wanted to talk to you about, M… Mx. Crowley?”
“Just Crowley. What is it?”
“Well, just Crowley, it’s … Well, I was wondering…” Muriel bit their bottom lip, suddenly unsure if they were being too forward.
Crowley sighed, clearly annoyed. “Just spit it out!”
“I was wondering if you have feelings for Mr. Aziraphale!” Muriel blurted out, far too loudly.
Crowley turned to look at Muriel fully. Through the dark glass of his sunglasses, they could see him glaring angrily at them. After almost a full minute of glaring at them, Crowley looked away, threw his cigarette on the ground, stomped on it, and then lit up a new one. He didn’t answer Muriel.
“Was I too invasive?” Muriel asked carefully.
“Yes.”
“Oh. Okay. I apologize.”
They sat there in silence for a while.
“Why d’you want to know?” Crowley muttered after a long time. He stared at his cigarette like he wanted to stomp on that one too.
“I just … I feel like I messed things up a lot when I said that you two were together,” Muriel explained. “And I’m very sorry for it. But, uhm, well… You do seem like you are very close, so I was wondering if I was at least kind of right. And, you know, if you do have feelings for each other, I can help you! I have set many of my friends up with people and they’re all very happy.”
Muriel had, in truth, only done it twice, and both of those times were mostly happy accidents and not a great scheme on Muriel’s part. But Crowley didn’t need to know that.
Crowley let out a sharp laugh. “Muriel, I … Feelings are complicated, all right? And they certainly don’t get less complicated as you grow older. I’m sure you’re a very good matchmaker, but unless you can brew up a fucking love potion, then your talents are probably better spent elsewhere.”
Muriel opened their mouth, realized that they didn’t know how to respond to that, and closed their mouth again.
“Also,” Crowley said, standing up, “Aziraphale isn’t a Mr. either.”
Then he walked off, leaving Muriel with much to think about.
When Muriel got home that day, they spent a lot of time thinking about their conversation with Crowley. It took a long while to decipher all of it, but they eventually concluded that Crowley had been subtly asking for help with getting together with Aziraphale — he was just too embarrassed to ask for it outright.
Why else would he talk about love potions and such, right?
Since Muriel was not as good of a matchmaker as they had claimed to be, they needed to hatch a great plan if they wanted to get Crowley and Aziraphale together.
It was easier said than done, but by the end of the night, they had something that they thought they could work with.
The next day, Muriel was assisting Crowley with a science experiment. They were doing something with balloons that Muriel didn’t fully understand, but that was fine. Thankfully, they didn’t need to understand this particular experiment to be able help students execute it.
They stood at the back of the room, watching the chaos of the balloon experiment unfold. Crowley was laughing, watching a student do something very cool with their balloon. Muriel smiled. They liked seeing other people happy.
Someone tugged on Muriel’s sleeve. It was a student with tears in her eyes.
“It’s very loud,” the student — whose name Muriel remembered to be Sarah — said.
She was right, of course. It was very loud indeed. Balloons popping, as well as people talking and chatting and laughing. Since they were hypersensitive to noise, Muriel was wearing earplugs to block out the worst of it.
“It is, isn’t it?” Muriel said. They pointed at their ears, showing Sarah their earplugs. “I think so too.”
“I … Can I … Do you have any more of those?” Sarah asked.
Muriel smiled, immediately reaching for their bag. “Yes! I have lots, actually!”
Sarah smiled, but then her smile quickly turned very hesitant. “Do I need a note or something?”
“What’d you mean?”
“I just ....” She wrung her hands together nervously. “I mean, I think I might be autistic or something and that, like, that's why everything’s so loud, but I haven’t been diagnosed, so I don’t know. And, like, because of that, I don’t have a doctor’s note saying I deserve accommodations.”
Muriel’s heart ached — because that was exactly how they’d had it when they’d gone to this school. Not only had the disability accommodations at the school been even worse then, but Muriel hadn’t gotten a diagnosis at that point, so they couldn't even get the accommodations that did exist.
It was quite a cruel system, they thought, that withheld help and support from people who were struggling until a professional had signed a paper confirming that they were, indeed, struggling.
“You don’t need a note,” Muriel said simply. They handed a pair of earplugs to Sarah. “If you say you need help, then that’s enough. Now, go and enjoy the experiment.”
Sarah carefully placed the earplugs in her ears. The moment both of them were in, her shoulders sagged in relief. She looked at Muriel with eyes that were shining with both tears and joy.
“Thank you, Mx. Muriel!” She said, throwing her arms around them and hugging them tightly to her. The hug only lasted for a quick moment before she released Muriel and went back to her seat.
Muriel watched Sarah for a moment. Watched her smile and laugh with her friends, now much more comfortable in her environment. A painful sense of longing filled Muriel. A longing to go back to the past and relive moments like these with the knowledge they had now. Knowledge about how to accommodate themself and take care of themself properly. They wanted so badly to go back in time and change their childhood to be happy and comfortable, instead of confusing and overwhelming.
But it was not possible. Which was awful.
Helping teens like Sarah was good enough, though. If Muriel couldn’t change their own past, they could at least make things better for other teens who were exactly the same as Muriel had once been.
Helping others always made Muriel happy. They watched Sarah now, that familiar happiness filling them once again.
Muriel loved helping people, which was why they were determined to also help Aziraphale and Crowley.
Muriel had many talents, and one of them was making very beautiful cards. They mostly made gorgeous birthday cards, but they figured they would also be able to make pretty neat love letters.
So, that night, they stayed up until one in the morning to make two love letters — one to Crowley (“from Aziraphale”) and one to Aziraphale (“from Crowley”). The contents of the letters sadly weren’t very specific, since Muriel didn’t know either of them very well yet. The love letter to Crowley read:
“Dear Crowley,
You have been a good friend of mine for a very long time, and I think I have fallen in love with you. Your red hair is very lovely, and I very much enjoy your emo style.
Sincerely, your Aziraphale.”
The letter to Aziraphale read:
“Dear Aziraphale,
You have been a good friend of mine for a very long time, and I think I have fallen in love with you. Your white hair is very lovely, and I very much enjoy your pastel style.
Sincerely, your Crowley.”
Muriel could admit that it wasn’t their finest work, but they thought the letters might be enough to finally make the two realize their feelings for one another.
They thought it was best to wait a little while — so as to not make it too suspicious. It would be very clear that Muriel had written the letters if they distributed the letters only a few days after their conversation with Crowley.
So, practicing more restraint than they’d ever been able to before, Muriel waited two whole weeks. Then they finally set their plan into action. Right before lunch, two weeks after they’d made the letters, Muriel placed one love letter on Crowley’s desk and one on Aziraphale’s. Then they waited for the result.
It came much quicker than Muriel had expected. Five minutes after lunch had started, Crowley and Aziraphale walked into the staff room, each with a love letter in hand. Crowley was laughing loudly, and Aziraphale was chuckling too, though his cheeks were very pink. Muriel could only assume that was a good sign. People blushed when they were in love, didn’t they?
“What are you two laughing about?” Nina asked, looking suspiciously at Aziraphale and Crowley.
“Oh, nothing,” Aziraphale said at the exact same time as Crowley said, “Some kid made fake love letters to us from the other one.”
Crowley laughed again, handing his letter to Nina. “‘I very much enjoy your emo style’? I don’t know if I should be offended or congratulate this kid for their comedic genius.”
Comedic? Muriel didn’t know if they should feel flattered or deeply disappointed.
“So, uh, those letters didn’t … make you think about anything?” Muriel asked carefully, still a bit of hope in their heart.
“Think about anything?” Crowley asked. His smile suddenly dropped as he seemed to realize something. Muriel didn’t know what. Maybe that he should confess his love for Aziraphale?
Crowley opened his mouth to say something, but Aziraphale talked before Crowley got the chance, “All right, yes, this is very funny, but let’s just …” He grabbed the letter from Nina’s hands and stuffed both the letters in a pocket inside his suit jacket. “Let’s talk about something else, yes? Maggie, how are the ukulele lessons going? Are the kids able to play ‘Everyday’ yet?”
Maggie looked at Aziraphale, then Nina, then Crowley, then Muriel, then back to Aziraphale. She seemed very unsure of what to do, but answered nonetheless. “They’re getting there. Somewhat.”
Maggie and Aziraphale continued chatting about music for the rest of the lunch, and that was it. There were no more mentions of the love letters. No sudden declarations of love. No sudden marriage announcement. Crowley glanced over at Muriel every once in a while during lunch, which was strange, but nothing else happened.
Muriel was deeply, deeply disappointed. But they wouldn’t give up this easily! They had more plans where this came from, indeed.
Muriel was sitting on a bench outside on the school grounds, watching the teens hang out during their break. Most of them stood in groups and talked. Muriel thought it was a bit sad that none of them were playing — were these kids really already too old for that? But many people were laughing and smiling, so Muriel supposed it wasn’t too sad.
Muriel was startled out of their own thoughts when a student sat down on the bench beside them. The student’s name was Alex, Muriel quickly recalled. They had read a few assignments and tests aloud for Alex, who was dyslexic.
Alex, who usually seemed like a very confident person, now looked uncharacteristically nervous.
“Hello, Alex!” Muriel said cheerily.
“Hey, Muriel.”
“D’you need help with anything?”
Alex frowned. “No. Uhm, maybe?”
“Hm, okay! Do you need help with figuring out if you need help?”
Alex snorted. “No. I … I guess I just wanted to ask how you realized that you were nonbinary?”
This question surprised Muriel. They’d been prepared to talk to students about their autism, but not really about their gender. It didn’t feel all that relevant to their job, but maybe it was?
“Well…” Muriel thought about it for a moment. “I guess it took a long time before I figured it out fully, you know? I spent a lot of time thinking about gender. My gender, other people’s gender, gender in general. Lots of gender thoughts. And, well, ultimately I realized that gender wasn’t really something that made a whole lot of sense to me — maybe ‘cause I’m autistic, but I’m not sure if that’s the reason, honestly. Either way, gender didn’t make sense to me, so that made it hard for me to … well, to be a gender, you know? How can I be something that I don’t understand?”
Muriel looked at Alex, who shrugged, clearly deep in thought.
Muriel continued, “I also realized that I didn’t really feel comfortable with the gender I’d been assigned, and I didn’t think I would be comfortable being the ‘opposite’ gender either. So, yeah, I eventually realized that I would be the happiest just being me — and that included calling myself nonbinary.”
The two of them sat in silence for a while. Muriel wasn’t sure why Alex had asked this, or what Alex hoped to get out of this interaction, but Muriel hoped they’d been of some help.
“But not every nonbinary person feels the way I do,” Muriel said after a while, needing to clarify this. “It’s just how I’ve experienced my gender, but it’s not like this for everybody. Why … Uhm, can I ask why you’re asking?”
Alex shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “I … Uhm …”
“You don’t have to!” Muriel reassured Alex. “I was just curious, but you don’t have to answer.”
Alex nodded, then said slowly, “I … think I might be nonbinary. I- I don’t know yet, but I think I might be. And you’re kinda the only nonbinary person I know, so I thought I’d ask you what it’s like.”
“Oh.”
Muriel hadn’t really considered the fact that they might be the first time many of these teens met an openly nonbinary person. Did that make them some kind of role model? If so, that was a lot of pressure.
“Did talking to me help?” Muriel asked.
Alex nodded.
“Cool.” Muriel smiled. “If you have any other questions, I can definitely try to answer them.”
Alex stood up. “I don’t think I have any more questions right now, but … thank you.”
“You’re welcome! If you have any questions later, just come up and ask me!”
Alex smiled, looking very relieved. “I will. Thank you, Mx. Muriel.”
Muriel watched Alex leave, a happy spark forming in their chest at being able to help the teens at the school in this way too.
The love letters hadn’t made Aziraphale and Crowley get together, so Muriel needed to move onto plan B.
After a whole hour of research on the best restaurants in town, Muriel finally decided on one they thought both Aziraphale and Crowley would enjoy. They knew Aziraphale was a huge food nerd, while Crowley didn’t seem like he cared all that much as long as it wouldn’t give him food poisoning, so Muriel focused on finding a restaurant that they thought Aziraphale would like.
When they’d found the perfect one, they reserved a table for two on Saturday night in two weeks.
The next day, they put on a fairly sad face before they walked into the staff room.
“Muriel, what’s wrong?” Aziraphale asked immediately, just as Muriel had hoped he would.
“I had planned to go to a restaurant with one of my friends on Saturday in two weeks, but I just found out that I can’t go after all.”
The plan was easy but fairly sophisticated: Pretend to have two reservations to a restaurant that Muriel couldn’t go to, say that they can give the reservation to anyone who would want to go, hint to Aziraphale and Crowley that it would be perfect to them, and then — voila! — Aziraphale and Crowley had a date in two weeks at a fancy restaurant.
“Oh, how awful,” Aziraphale said.
“I know,” Muriel agreed. Then they smiled. “But, well, I’ve already made the reservations and there’s no reason to cancel them if someone else wants them, right?” They looked meaningfully at Aziraphale.
“Oh? Oh!” Aziraphale said, then winked. “I’m right there with you.”
Muriel wasn’t sure if Aziraphale was, in fact, right there with them, but they still smiled, hope blossoming in their chest.
“Nina! Maggie!” Aziraphale said, making his way over to the two women. “How would you feel about getting some use out of Muriel’s reservations?”
Muriel’s stomach dropped to the floor, and they had to force themself to keep smiling. This was not the plan!
“Uhm, I mean, I wouldn’t hate that,” Nina said. “Is it alright with you, Muriel?”
Muriel could only smile and nod, hiding their disappointment as best as they could.
Damn it.
The next day, Muriel was helping out in one of Aziraphale’s classes. The students were reading a few Emily Dickinson poems, and Muriel was ready to read the poems aloud or explain difficult words if any of the students needed it.
They sat at the back of the classroom, watching the students read. Their gaze eventually snatched on one of the students, Christoffer, who looked very uncomfortable. He was sitting on his hands, and it looked like it was very difficult for him to be sitting like that. Muriel was immediately confused and concerned.
Silently, they made their way over to Christoffer. They crouched down beside him and whispered, “Hey, are you okay?”
Christoffer looked in Muriel’s general direction with big, surprised eyes. He kept his voice low as he said, “Hm? Yeah, I’m fine. Why … why wouldn’t I be?”
“You’re sitting on your hands. It looks very uncomfortable.”
Christoffer looked down at his lap, his face twisting in a way that almost made it look like he would start crying. Muriel immediately panicked — making students cry was the complete opposite of what they wanted to do!
“Do you want to go out to the hallway?” Muriel asked.
Christoffer hesitated, then nodded. Carefully, Muriel led him out of the classroom, sending Aziraphale a reassuring smile before they closed the door.
“Now,” Muriel said when they were in the empty hallway, “do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”
“My mom and my therapist told me to sit like that so I wouldn’t move my hands weird,” Christoffer mumbled, sounding a little embarrassed. “But I don’t like it. It hurts, and it makes me feel … I don’t know, restless.”
Muriel frowned. “What do you mean? Move your hands weird?”
“You know.” Christoffer flapped his hands up and down a few times. Stimming. He was stimming. That wasn’t weird at all.
Anger bubbled in Muriel’s chest, which was a very unusual emotion for them to feel. But they felt angry now, learning that Christoffer had been told by two adults in his life to suppress his stimming. And that they’d called it weird.
Even Muriel could admit that there were some situations where it wasn’t a good idea to stim if you could help it, simply because it wasn’t always a safe thing to do. People were awful, something Muriel knew firsthand. But this classroom was not one of these situations — Christoffer was completely safe and free to stim if it was what he needed, which he clearly did.
And even if you wanted to protect your child, you didn’t do that by calling their stimming weird!
“Mx. Muriel?” Christoffer’s nervous voice broke through Muriel’s angry thoughts. “Did I do something wrong?”
Muriel immediately shook their head and smiled reassuringly. “No, you’ve done nothing wrong! Absolutely nothing! I was just … thinking.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“You know, Christoffer, I also often move my hands like that.” Muriel started flapping their hands up and down too. “I don’t think it’s weird.”
“You … don’t?”
“Not at all!” Muriel assured him, still stimming. “It’s called stimming, and it’s a completely not-weird thing to do. It can actually be very helpful.”
Christoffer watched Muriel stim, his shoulders relaxing slightly. After a while, he hesitantly started flapping his hands up and down too.
“Are you sure this isn’t weird or bad?” Christoffer asked.
“I’m one hundred percent sure.”
Christoffer smiled slightly. “Okay. Cool.”
They returned to class a few minutes later, after Muriel had explained that Christoffer could stim as much as he wanted when he felt safe to do so — which meant that he probably shouldn’t stim too much in front of his mom or therapist. Muriel hated telling someone to hide any part of themself, but sometimes it was necessary to survive in a world like this.
The rest of class was spent much like usual. Muriel read some things aloud for a dyslexic student, translated a few unusual or old English words into Portuguese for the Brazilian student in the class — who seemed very happy to have a teaching assistant with Brazilian parents, which in turn made Muriel happy — and so on.
As people were leaving class, and Muriel was cleaning up some papers that had spilled on the floor, they heard Aziraphale exclaim joyfully, “Philip! Elise! I didn’t know you two were together!”
Muriel looked up to see two students, Philip and Elise, blush slightly. They were holding hands and generally looked very much like a couple.
“Uhm, are you even allowed to talk to us about stuff like that?” Elise said with an embarrassed laugh.
Aziraphale chuckled too. “Yes, a little. As long as it’s fine for you, of course.”
Elise shrugged in consent.
Philip spoke up, a little nervously, “Anyway, eh, Elise and I aren’t really together together.”
“We’re in a queerplatonic relationship,” Elise supplied.
“A what?” Aziraphale asked.
Philip repeated the words. Muriel had heard of it, but could only kind of remember what it meant.
“It’s, like, a relationship that doesn’t really fit into what society considers to be a friendship or romantic relationship,” Elise said. “And it works well for me ‘cause I’m aromantic. But Philip isn’t and he still likes it, so anyone can be in a queerplatonic relationship even if they aren’t aromantic or asexual.”
Muriel watched as Aziraphale’s eyes grew comically large. They had to stifle a laugh.
“Sorry, Elise, could you please explain all the words you used just now?” Aziraphale asked, sitting down in his chair.
Elise and Philip looked at each other and shrugged, also sitting down.
Muriel busied themself with tidying up the classroom so they could listen in on the conversation. Words like queerplatonic relationship, aromantic, asexual, and more were explained very gently and patiently by Elise and Philip, who didn’t seem to mind teaching their teacher some things.
Muriel was familiar with a lot of these concepts and words already, but a refresher certainly didn’t hurt. Aziraphale, though, looked as if a whole new world had been opened up to him. Muriel couldn’t be entirely sure what he was thinking, but it looked like learning these words was a big thing for him.
Eventually, Philip and Elise finished their explanations, and left the classroom. Aziraphale looked deep in thought, so Muriel decided to leave as well without bothering him.
When lunch rolled around, Aziraphale entered the staff room with a look on his face as if he was in a daze. He sat down beside Crowley on the couch and barely nodded when Crowley asked if he was all right.
“Okay, does anyone know what’s happened to Aziraphale?” Crowley asked loudly, his tone very accusatory.
Muriel was a little afraid to speak up, but they felt that they had very important information, so they ultimately decided to share it.
“A few students taught Aziraphale what a queerplatonic relationship is,” they said. “And aromanticism and asexuality and so on. I think he’s still thinking lots of thoughts about it.”
“And what are those things?” Crowley demanded.
Muriel tilted their head to the side, considering how to go about explaining it all, before deciding to just repeat everything Elise and Philip had said.
Crowley — as well as quite a few of the other teachers — listened intently as they spoke. Muriel wasn’t used to this much attention at once, so they blushed slightly under everyone’s gazes, but they still kept explaining as best as they could. Later, they felt very proud of that.
When they were done, Crowley was silent for a long moment. Then he asked, “And … it’s all a spectrum, you said? So, someone could be, for example, gay and also … aromantic or asexual or whatever?”
“Yep! You could be homoromantic asexual, homosexual aromantic, or on both the aromantic spectrum and the asexual spectrum and still also be gay. And so on. I don’t know all the options, honestly.”
Crowley nodded very slowly. He looked at Aziraphale, who was still thinking very intensely.
“All right, angel. Let’s go for a walk, eh? Get some fresh air?”
Aziraphale murmured something Muriel couldn’t hear, and then Aziraphale and Crowley both stood up. They made their way out of the staff room.
Now, Muriel knew that it was not nice to listen in on other people’s conversations. But they were also so unbearably curious. So they followed Aziraphale and Crowley, careful to keep their distance.
When Aziraphale and Crowley reached one of the doors leading outside, they stopped for a moment. Crowley had a hand on Aziraphale’s arm. Muriel hid behind a nearby corner.
Crowley coughed, then asked, “Are you all right, angel?”
“Yes, I … I just need some time to think.”
Crowley was silent for a moment. “Yeah. Same.”
Then they stepped outside, away from Muriel and their curious ears.
Muriel thought a lot about that short conversation for the next few days. But they didn’t really know what to make of it, so they eventually decided to simply ignore that it ever happened and keep following their plan to get Crowley and Aziraphale together.
The love letters and dinner plans had obviously not worked, so Muriel had to do something a little more drastic. For this new plan, they had to wait for it to rain. Not only did it have to rain, but it had to rain at the perfect time. Thankfully, that eventually happened.
Muriel stared out of the window at the end of a school day. It had been raining the whole day, and it was soon time to enact their new plan. Once all the students had gone home, Muriel burst into Aziraphale and Crowley’s office (which the two of them shared with Nina and Maggie, who had thankfully already gone home for the day).
“I need help outside!” Muriel exclaimed, startling Aziraphale and causing Crowley to lift his eyebrows slightly.
“What kind of help, dear?” Aziraphale asked, immediately standing up. Crowley stayed seated.
“Outside! I need help from both of you outside,” Muriel pleaded. “It’s really very important!”
“Oh, okay,” Aziraphale said, sounding unsure. He looked at Crowley. “Then I suppose we should help them, don’t you think, Crowley?”
Crowley grumbled something Muriel couldn’t hear then said, “Muriel, what kind of help do you need and why do you need it outside and from both of us?”
Muriel hesitated. They hadn’t really thought this far. But one of their many talents also included improvising, so they said, “I lost my bag in … a puddle! Outside. And, uhm, it’s stuck there. I think I need at least two people to help me pull it out.”
“Pull it out of a puddle?” Crowley asked. Muriel couldn’t really be sure what his tone meant but he sounded skeptical.
“Yes!”
Aziraphale and Crowley looked at each other for a long time, having some sort of silent conversation.
Eventually Aziraphale sighed and said, “All right, let’s get this sorted, shall we? Come on Crowley, I’m sure it won’t take long.”
Crowley stood too, but not before muttering, “I don’t get why you’re indulging them when they’re so clearly up to something.”
Muriel bit their bottom lip, getting nervous. They’d never been the best at lying, but they’d thought they were better than this. But it didn’t matter; both Aziraphale and Crowley followed after Muriel.
The rain was still pouring. Muriel led them all outside, through a door with a big awning over it. Once Aziraphale and Crowley had stepped outside, Muriel rushed back inside, closed the door, and turned over the lock.
“What the hell?” Crowley yelled, his voice muffled by the door.
“Uh, Muriel dear, what are you doing?” Aziraphale asked, his voice also muffled.
“You need to stay under the awning for a while,” Muriel explained. “It’s like this in all the movies! The rain and the awning and then: vavoom! You kiss!”
“Vavoom,” Crowley repeated, his voice sounding a little hollow. He turned to Aziraphale and said, “It seems like the new kid wants us to kiss.”
Through the window in the door, Muriel watched Aziraphale blush. Yes! It was working!
“Y-Yes, it seems so,” Aziraphale stuttered.
Crowley laughed. Somehow, he managed to make his laugh sound angry. He glared at Muriel through the door’s window as he said, “You were the one who made the love letters weren’t you?”
Muriel nodded shakily.
“I fucking knew it.” Crowley threw his hands up in the air. “I said you shouldn’t get involved!”
“No, you said I shouldn’t get involved unless I had a love potion, but that clearly meant that you did need help but you just didn’t want to ask for it!”
“Crowley?” Aziraphale asked. “What are you two talking about?”
Crowley ignored him. “Well, Muriel, I thought it was pretty clear what I meant by what I said.”
Something awful and shallow opened up in Muriel’s chest — the same feeling they always got when they’d misunderstood something.
“I didn’t think it was very clear,” Muriel mumbled. “But I’m sorry.”
Crowley and Muriel stared at each other for a while. Eventually, Crowley sighed. The sigh was really more of an angry and resigned groan.
“I’m also … sorry, I suppose,” he said through gritted teeth. “I could’ve been clearer.”
Muriel wasn’t really sure if his apology was warranted, but they nodded anyway. “Thank you.”
“But next time,” Crowley continued, “don’t help people unless they explicitly ask for it, all right? And if you’re confused, ask for clarification. Deal?”
Muriel smiled. “Deal!”
They unlocked the door sheepishly, letting Aziraphale and Crowley back inside. “Sorry for locking you two out in the rain.”
Crowley shrugged. “S’all right. Was kind of funny, to be honest.”
“Okay, enough!” Aziraphale said, his tone as angry as it could get — which wasn’t a lot. “Can someone please explain what’s going on?”
Muriel and Crowley exchanged a glance. Crowley shrugged.
Muriel did their best to explain the whole situation — mainly the “love potion” thing Crowley had said and how that had made Muriel try some maybe not very good attempts at matchmaking. Aziraphale listened, his face completely unreadable to Muriel. They just hoped he wasn’t angry with them.
When Muriel was done, Aziraphale sighed and said, “All right.”
“That’s it?” Crowley asked with a laugh. “‘All right’?”
“Yes. I mean, this is obviously just a huge misunderstanding that has now been cleared up. So we can move on with our lives and put this all behind us, yes?”
Crowley shrugged. “Suppose so.”
“But–” Muriel started to protest, but they stopped themself, suddenly unsure if it would be a bad idea to say what they wanted to say.
“What?” Crowley asked exasperatedly. “Spit it out, kid.”
“But aren’t you two in love?” Muriel asked. “Not even a little bit?”
“You know, friendships can be just as close and important as romantic relationships,” Aziraphale said in his teacher-voice.
“Yes, I know that,” Muriel agreed. “But, well, you two just seem so in love!”
Or maybe Muriel had just wanted Aziraphale and Crowley to be in love because it made things more interesting. Which was obviously not okay. And friendships could be just as interesting as romantic relationships. They knew that! They just forgot it sometimes.
Muriel looked down at the floor, ashamed.
“Well, we might be a little bit in love,” Crowley admitted.
Muriel’s head snapped up to look at him. “What?”
“We had a bit of a talk after you explained that whole queerplatonic thing.” Crowley shrugged. “Turns out that might be a good way to explain our relationship. And it also turns out that that aromantic spectrum thing might be a good way to explain a part of both of our identities. So, well, we’re not really in love in the way most people think of it, I suppose. But we’re still kinda in love, you know? In our own way.”
“So I helped you get together, then?” Muriel asked, maybe a little too excitedly.
Crowley held up a hand. “Calm down, kid. Our relationship hasn’t really changed, so you didn’t really do anything there. Like, we were already living together and all that. But we’ve found some new words to describe both ourselves and our relationship, and that’s …”
“Nice,” Aziraphale supplied.
“Yeah, that,” Crowley agreed. “So you helped us with that, kid.”
“Thank you,” Aziraphale said, smiling. Then he smiled at Crowley — the special smile he seemingly only sent Crowley’s way.
Muriel beamed. They maybe hadn’t done what they’d set out to do, but they’d still managed to help Aziraphale and Crowley, and that was more than good enough.
“You’re welcome,” they said proudly. “And sorry again for locking you out. And for sending you weird love letters.” They didn’t mention their attempt at getting them to go out for dinner, because neither Crowley nor Aziraphale seemed to have realized that that was what Muriel had been attempting, and they were too embarrassed to tell them that.
“S’fine,” Crowley said, waving them off.
“Water under the bridge,” Aziraphale said.
“Water under the awning, more like,” Crowley said, which made Aziraphale chuckle despite the fact that it was a truly bad joke. Muriel smiled. Crowley and Aziraphale were clearly made for each other, regardless of if it was romantic or platonic or queerplatonic or something else entirely.
Crowley clapped his hands together and started moving back to his office. “All right! Now that all this is done, I have some tests to grade.”
Muriel watched Aziraphale and Crowley walk off, whispering quietly to each other and smiling and laughing. Muriel smiled too, happy with how they’d helped the two of them. And happy that they were lucky enough to work with amazing people like Aziraphale and Crowley, in a place where Muriel could make a real difference in teens’ lives.
They grinned from ear to ear as they walked home that day, feeling fulfilled and at peace in a way they’d rarely ever felt before.