Chapter Text
As Aziraphale walked through the heavy door, a bell above him rang out, alerting a red-headed barista and a single patron of his entrance. The barista made his way toward the counter as Aziraphale walked past the small tables of the coffee house. The barista has his hair tied into a half bun to keep it away from his face. He was wearing black jeans and a black turtle neck with a black waistcoat over it. The man practically blended into the darkly lit room.
Aziraphale made his way to the front counter and had only just begun reading the menu when the barista leaned his hips against the counter casually and said, “Welcome to The East Wall. What can I get for you?”
“Ah, I’m not really sure what I’d like.”
“Take all the time you need,” the barista shrugged nonchalantly before his face split into a conspiring grin. “Or you could let me pick for you.”
“Oh well,” Aziraphale blushed. “Yes, I’d love to see what you come up with.”
“Perfect, I just need a name,”
“Aziraphale.” He carefully watched the barista’s reaction to the name, knowing many people found it difficult the first few times.
“Is that biblical?” the man asked, scribbling down the name on a slip of paper without a whisper of hesitation.
“It is, actually.” He smiled, eyeing the paper on which his name was scribbled out in messy blue ink. “People don’t normally get it their first try.”
“I’m good with names, particularly religious ones.” He turned his back and selected a pale blue mug from the rack beside him.
“What an interesting talent,” Aziraphale said. He stood up taller to see over the redhead’s shoulder and figure out what type of drink he was making.
“Mhmm…” The barista nodded as he selected a box of tea bags from a shelf above his head. He set it on the bar top before leaning down to open a mini fridge and inspect the contents. “Are you okay with whole milk?”
“I don't have any allergies, if that’s what you’re asking, but I thought you were choosing?” Aziraphale smirked.
“Fair.” He selected a carton from the fridge, poured the milk into a pitcher, and began steaming it. The barista dropped the teabag into the mug and poured boiling water over it, letting the tea steep as he steamed the milk, waiting for it to get hot and frothy. Once he was satisfied, he carefully poured the milk over the tea and walked the mug back to the counter where Aziraphale was waiting.
“Looks phenomenal.” Aziraphale breathed in the warm aroma as the mug was scooted closer to him, “What is it?”
“An Earl Gray latte,” the barista said, with a slight nod. “Enjoy.”
“Well, wait, what do I owe you?” Aziraphale asked, holding out his wallet.
“On the house, since I chose it anyway.” The barista smiled as he began to wipe down the counter and equipment he had used.
“Oh, thank you so much!” Aziraphale blushed as he dug out the 5 pounds he was expecting to spend and dropped it into the tip jar.
Aziraphale brought his mug to a nearby table set up with a soft reading chair and vintage green bank lamp. He took a small sip from the steaming mug, humming in appreciation as the floral tea and creamy milk mixed together on his tongue. He sat his bag next to his chair and dug out an old heavy book, his notebook, and a pen, settling in to get his work done.
Aziraphale rubbed his eyes and stretched his arms over his head before looking down at his watch. While he had been working the sole other customer had left and their table cleaned, the music had changed from relatively popular indie songs to classical music, and four hours had passed. Aziraphale looked over to the bar where Crowley was sipping from a dark mug and watching him patiently.
“Was wondering when you’d move,” he said casually once Aziraphale had met his gaze.
“Oh dear, I got a bit lost in my work it seems.” Aziraphale bashfully began clearing his notes. “Um, when do you close?”
“I don’t.” Crowley walked around the counter and took the seat opposite Aziraphale. “It’s open 24/7.” Aziraphale’s gaze followed Crowley’s finger to a small sign reading “Open 24/7” surrounded by vintage art.
Aziraphale nodded.
“But, I leave at 4 am, so I’m all yours for a few more hours,” Crowley said, motioning to the empty shop.
“Ah, terribly sorry to be the only one here,” Aziraphale replied, fussing with his empty mug on the table.
“Oh no, please don’t be!” Crowley motioned wildly with his hands. “It's honestly a bit boring being here all night long alone.”
“I imagine it would be.”
The coffee house wasn’t brightly lit, which made it seem cozy and inviting when Aziraphale had first ventured in around sunset, but now each shadow seemed a bit eerie if he looked at them for too long.
“Need a refill?” Crowley stood, holding both of their mugs.
“Yes, but I really should pay you this time.” Aziraphale stood as well and followed Crowley to the counter.
“Well, if you insist,” Crowley chuckled, grabbing out two new mugs. One was white with golden specks and the other dark red with snake scales twining around it. “What would you like this time?”
“Hmm…” Aziraphale took his time perusing the menu for a few moments before turning back to face Crowley. “What in the world is the ‘Midnight Monster’?”
Crowley barked out a laugh before responding, “You won’t like it.”
“Why not?” Aziraphale asked defiantly.
“‘Cause it's awful,” Crowley replied. “‘S only popular with the college kids. It’s Monster, cold brew, and a double espresso, and we serve it iced.”
“Oh goodness, who in the world came up with that?” Aziraphale asked, mildly horrified.
“I did,” Crowley quipped. He then shrugged, saying, “I blame the alcohol.”
“But you still sell it.”
Crowley shrugged again.
“Okay, I’ll have the ‘French Kiss.’” Aziraphale paused for a moment before adding, “The latte.” He pointed at the menu for extra clarity, feeling his face heat up.
“Coming right up, angel.” Crowley smiled as he turned around, just missing as Aziraphale’s light pink blush turned up to practically magenta.
Crowley worked quickly for a few moments, pulling the espresso, steaming the milk, adding the flavored syrups, and mixing it all together. Crowley ignored Aziraphale waiting at the counter and walked straight to the table where Aziraphale’s notes were still spread out, only a bit less messy than they had been while he was working. He set down the mugs and reclaimed the seat opposite where Aziraphale had sat, waiting to be joined.
Aziraphale quickly walked over and sat across from Crowley, organizing his notes as Crowley began to sip from his own mug.
“What did you pick for yourself?” Aziraphale asked, looking down into his own cup.
“French Kiss,” Crowley smirked.
“Glad to know I picked something good if you like it too.” Aziraphale smiled as he took the first sip. It was almost too hot to drink but the air around them was cold enough for him not to mind. The caramel and vanilla sweetened the espresso just enough for it to not be bitter, but they let the coffee taste still shine through.
“Not actually what I typically go for,” Crowley said as he leaned back in his chair and continued to sip the drink.
“What do you typically go for then?” Aziraphale asked.
“Espresso or black coffee. Not a huge sweet tooth, me,” Crowley said. “What about you?”
“I typically prefer tea, so your first guess was spot on.” Aziraphale said before adding with a smile, “The Earl Gray was lovely.”
Crowley smiled with pride. “What’s all this?” He motioned to the papers stacked on the table.
“It’s a project I’m working on,” Aziraphale said, careful not to overshare and bore the poor barista to death.
Crowley gave him a look and slight nod that very clearly said ‘Yes, and?’
“I’m working on getting my doctorate in Translation Studies. Currently, I’m translating old Bibles.”
“Hmm…,” Crowley looked over at the Bible. It was still open and appeared to be written in French. “Why Bibles?”
“There are such interesting differences in how different cultures interpret phrases and the different metaphors they use, especially in religious texts.” Aziraphale spoke with his hands, glad to see Crowley hanging on every word as he continued rambling on about the most minute of differences between different editions.
Crowley smiled at Aziraphale as he finished his mini-lecture.
“But, ah, what is it you do?” Aziraphale asked a bit lamely.
Crowley motioned around them. “I own this place, make coffee, meet cute linguistic students at midnight.”
“Oh, this is a regular occurrence for you?” Aziraphale raised his mug to his mouth for the dual purpose of taking a sip of the latte and hiding his blush from the man sitting opposite of him.
“No, but it definitely should be.” Crowley raised his own mug and clinked it against Aziraphale’s as he brought it back down.
They smiled at each other as Crowley waited for Aziraphale to finish his own drink, savoring each sip. Once he had finished, Crowley brought both of their mugs back behind the counter and cleaned them quickly. Aziraphale checked his watch and frowned, it was almost 2 a.m. and he still had class in the morning. He hadn’t meant to stay even half this late considering the tube ride he would have to take to get back to his flat.
“I really should be going,” Aziraphale sighed as he tucked away his papers and pulled his coat over his shoulders.
“Do you live near here?” Crowley asked, wiping down the mugs and leaving them to dry on the rack.
“No, I have to take the tube to Soho,”
“At,” Crowley quickly checked his watch, “Two in the morning? No way, I’ll give you a lift.”
Aziraphale began protesting as Crowley grabbed his coat and keys, and turned off the lights in the back.
“But, you don’t close! You can’t just leave the store,” Aziraphale pointed out as Crowley was already halfway to the door.
“‘Course I can.” Crowley paused at the door, holding it open for Aziraphale, “I own the store.”
Aziraphale waited a few steps away, still hesitant.
“Oh sorry.” Crowley let the door swing shut as his thoughts seemed to catch up to him, “Unless you don’t want to get in a total stranger's car.”
“No, it's not that dear. I mean no offense, but you look as though I could snap you in half.”
“Don’t tempt me,” Crowley said, his smile slowly returning.
“Oh!” Aziraphale blushed and nearly tripped on the rug as he stepped forward. “You're sure it's okay to close for a little while?” Aziraphale asked earnestly.
“Of course, angel, Soho is barely 10 minutes from here.” He reopened the door as Aziraphale walked towards him. “I’ve fallen asleep behind the counter for longer.”
Aziraphale chuckled and walked out the door, waiting as Crowley locked it behind them and pocketed the keys. Crowley led them to a small parking lot behind the building with a single car sitting in the dark, a vintage Bentley. Aziraphale thanked him quietly as Crowley held open the passenger door and closed it once Aziraphale was in.
“Alright, lead the way.” Crowley started the car and pulled out onto the road, following Aziraphale’s perfectly timed instructions.
They arrived outside of Aziraphale’s building significantly quicker than the time it should have taken if Crowley had driven the speed limit.
“Goodness, I hope I’ll be able to sleep after that latte so late at night.” Aziraphale paused, not quite ready to leave the warm car for the cold walk between him and the door.
“Can I tell you a secret?” Crowley asked, facing Aziraphale with one hand on the wheel.
“Um.” Aziraphale felt his throat go dry as he nodded, not having a clue as to what the tall, handsome stranger could be about to say.
“I gave you decaf.” Crowley smiled, trying to look devious but landing solidly on charming.
Aziraphale gasped, feigning horror, “You evil man!”
“Can’t have you losing sleep over me just yet, angel.”
Aziraphale turned away to hide his blush, taking a deep breath before opening the door and stepping out into the cold air, grounding him slightly. “Thank you again, Crowley.” Aziraphale said through the open door, “for everything.”
The Bently didn't pull away until he was safely inside the warm building.
Aziraphale watched as the car pulled away, beginning to wonder if the whole encounter was some dream his romantic brain had concocted. Aziraphale would definitely be losing sleep over him.