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“Oh, Crowley…” The Supreme Archangel of Heaven itself, the Demons former Partner, stood only a foot away. They stood in the Archangel’s previous bookshop, not a single speck of dust accompanying the shelves thanks to Muriel’s care.
“Angel?” Crowley’s eyes teared up as he moved his hands up to feel his Aziraphale’s face. Crowley couldn’t quite believe this was happening. Part of him wanted it to be, and not be another one of his simple fantasies. He moved his hand’s to feel Aziraphale’s now grey hair, caressing each cheek, and making sure to savour every moment.
Aziraphale looked at Crowley with such longing that could not be properly described in a human tongue. Crowley’s Angel moved his left hand up to hold the Demon’s hand which was cupping his cheek.
The two very quickly embraced one another, sobbing, holding on for dear life. They could never let one another go again. The two were desperate to never separate. If they were, it might as well have been worse than Holy Water being dumped on a Demon, or an Angel bathed in Hellfire.
“Nnngh.” Crowley‘s head rested on a cold surface, one that contrasted the warm air. He rubbed his eyes, waking up from his slumber.
He doesn’t quite remember his dream, but he can assume it’s one he doesn’t want to remember, considering that he’s wiping tears from his eyes.
He slowly puts his glasses back on, attempting to avoid stabbing himself in the eye. He downs the rest of his drink before paying his tab.
Sauntering out the door of the bar, he stumbles out onto the cold sidewalk, the cool fresh air helping to further wake him up from his drunk slumber. His Bentley beeped at him and flashed its lights, waiting for Crowley across the street.
After awkardly avoiding fellow drunken passerby’s, he finally made it, stumbling into the car.
“Just take me back to the bookshop…I need to check in on…ah, what’s their name?” Crowley mumbled to his Bentley. He sat for a moment, slumped back and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Right. Mur…murrrr…ah whatever. That one that Angel. Let’s go to the bookshop to check in on that Angel.”
The Bentley was smarter than that, knowing that Crowley had very little care for Muriel. Quite a pity, though, since Muriel quite cared for the Demon. The Bentley realised it is, in fact, the job of an Angel to love everyone. So it supposed it was sort of inevitable for that matter.
The Bentley sped out of its parking spot and zoomed down the roads, blasting Queen’s “Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy” just to spite Crowley.
“Oh enough of that!” The Demon growled. “That was years ago! I could care less about that stupid Angel and his stupidly perfect face and stupidly adorable smile and his stupidly brilliant attitude…” Crowley mumbled, which trailed off into a string of incoherent sounds that didn’t quite count as words anymore.
The Bentley arrived later the same morning, screeching to a halt in its usual parking spot. Crowley woke up due to the massive jolt that launched him forward in his seat, smashing his face against the dashboard. He wasn’t wearing a seatbelt because, well, cars like the Bentley weren’t made that way. Made it a whole lot more fun.
Crowley ushered away the nose bleed with a simple swipe of his hand and snapped his nose back into place. He stumbled out of the car, still somewhat drunk from his earlier excursions and also still very sleepy. He opened the door to A.Z FELL & Co. The familiar chime of the bell welcomed him as he walked through the shop. It barely changed. The only difference was that soft jazz was playing instead of Aziraphale’s preferred orchestral music. Crowley looked up, hearing hurried footsteps running down to the ground floor.
“I’m so sorry, but none of these books are actually for sale, oh and also, we’re actually closed today so if you could- oh, hello Mr. Crowley!” A peppy, smaller Angel walked up to Crowley, wearing a cozy white button-up sweater with a collared white button-up shirt beneath. They also wore a yellow plaid skirt.
Crowley looked Muriel up and down and raised his eyebrows. “Well if you’re closed, you should probably lock the door.”
“Well, yes. Of course. Because people are bad and will take them. Or something along the lines of that.”