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It was a nice day.
Most days had been nice since that day in Tadfield. Call it coincidence, or call it Adam’s interference. The extra sunlight was always good for the plants, Crowley thought. He wandered his flat carrying a small mister full of water, spraying the soil of the pots that had gone dry. The plants, praying that he wouldn’t notice anything out of order, trembled as he walked past them, but he didn’t seem to notice anything today, thankfully.
From the other room, his telephone rang, causing him to look up from the plants and towards the noise. It was probably Aziraphale. At least, he hoped it was Aziraphale. Hell had been oddly silent since their little…switcheroo, and he didn’t want them ruining his day. Quickly, he made his way over to the phone and answered before it went to voicemail, leaning against his desk.
“Crowley?” He almost sighed in relief. Thank Go-...thank someone it was just Aziraphale again.
“What do you want?”
“Oh, great, you picked up. I was beginning to worry.” Aziraphale paused, and Crowley heard some shuffling on the other end. “I, er, just wanted to ask you something.”
“And that would be?”
“Well, you see, I just got word of a new museum opening nearby, and I was wondering…”
“You know I don’t do museums, angel.”
“Yes, but this one’s different. It seems to be some kind of literature museum. I hear they display ancient texts and books I’ve only dreamed of having in the shop, and…” Aziraphale trailed off.
“And you want to see them but don’t want to go alone.”
Crowley could practically hear Aziraphale’s relieved smile. “Yes, that’s right. These things are always much more fun with company, after all.”
“So you’re asking me, the demon with absolutely no interest in literature, to come with you to a museum that displays nothing but rare ancient texts.”
“You might see something you like there! And it’s not just ancient texts. I’m sure there are other things you might find interesting.”
“Ugh.”
“Oh, come on. It’ll be fun.”
“Blech.”
“Do you have anything better to do?” Aziraphale asked pointedly, making Crowley lower his head in defeat.
“Fine. Give me the address and I’ll meet you in ten.”
“Jolly good. See you soon,” Aziraphale said, and hung up the phone with a click.
Crowley could only groan to himself and rub his face. He hadn’t been planning to go out today, but maybe it wouldn’t be too bad. He miracled the rest of his outfit on, having only been wearing his undershirt and jeans before, and made his way out of the apartment building to his Bentley, which was always happy to see him.
Ignoring countless traffic laws and posted speed limits, he pulled up in front of the museum mere minutes later, where a brightly dressed angel was standing outside and scanning the streets eagerly for him. He grinned as he saw the Bentley pull up and watched Crowley intently as he got out of the car and approached him, and they took in the sight of the museum together.
It really didn’t look much like a museum from the outside. The only thing that indicated that it was were the letters above the door, and Crowley looked it up and down skeptically. It seemed to be squished between two larger establishments, like this was the only space the curators could find. It had apparently just started out, they both supposed.
Aziraphale gave Crowley a smile and got a scowl in return, and they entered together, Crowley holding the door and following Aziraphale inside. They stopped at a small counter not far past the door, where a young, bright-eyed employee was stationed.
“Lovely little place you’ve got here, I must say. Just opened, I presume?” Aziraphale asked warmly, reaching for his wallet to pay for their admission.
“That’s right! We haven’t got many visitors yet, but our grand opening was only a week ago,” they said, hope filling every corner of their face.
Aziraphale smiled as he paid for himself and Crowley. “I wish you the best of luck.”
“Thank you, sir! Enjoy yourselves!”
As they walked down a short hallway to where the exhibits were, Crowley became irritated with the way Aziraphale kept glancing at him, wanting to say something.
“What?”
“Oh, nothing.”
“No, spit it out.”
“I was just thinking…wouldn’t it be nice if we helped them out? A small miracle to bring in more visitors? After we’re done here, of course.”
“I’m not an angel. Do what you want,” Crowley muttered dismissively. Aziraphale, after thinking on it some more, smiled to himself as they entered one of the exhibit rooms.
“Right, yes…I think I will.”
Aziraphale’s face lit up the second they crossed the threshold, and he immediately gravitated towards a display case in the middle of the room, containing several very old-looking books. The walls were decorated with other just as old papers, with an older couple reading one of them very closely. Crowley followed Aziraphale, not knowing any better, and noticed how…unusually joyful he looked. He always looked pleasant; he was an angel, after all, but a sense of almost childlike wonder overtook him as he stepped closer to the glass.
“I wasn’t expecting to see any of these here. These editions are notoriously difficult to come by. I knew the author personally, and even I couldn’t get my hands on any for the bookshop!” Aziraphale explained excitedly, drawing the attention of the nearby couple (the books in the display case were from the early 1700s).
“How do you think they ended up here, then?” Crowley decided to entertain him, becoming minorly interested in the books as well due to Aziraphale’s infectious excitement.
“I have no idea. Passed down through families and then donated, perhaps? It’s amazing that they’re here, of all places…I’d love to have them in my shop, but I’d never take them from a museum.”
Aziraphale then wandered over to the texts on the walls with Crowley in tow, skimming through each one and pointing out things he recognized or names he knew, with his demon companion listening and chiming in on the occasion as well. At this point, the couple that had been overhearing every word of their conversation decided that it was none of their business, and it must have all been a practical joke. How could those men have possibly known the authors of these hundreds-of-years-old documents? They moved into the next rooms, muttering amongst themselves.
Soon, the angel and demon entered a room that contained a multitude of illuminated display boxes, this exhibit being labelled as containing multiple letter correspondences, donated by families and archivists across Europe. The aim was to give a glance into the lives of the common people of different periods of history, and each letter was transcribed in its caption. This room was empty, so both Aziraphale and Crowley felt that they could speak more freely, and Crowley removed his sunglasses to better read the letters.
The two peered down into one of the boxes which showed 2 letters next to each other and squinted at the handwriting, and were soon greeted with the horrifying realization that they recognized the handwriting and letters as their own and each other’s. Crowley stayed still, while Aziraphale, taken aback by his own handwriting, took a small step back from the display, his eyes widening.
“Crowley, are those…ours?”
“Certainly looks like it.”
“But, but how did they—”
“Beats me. We probably both lost them at some point and some clever humans matched them up.”
“...So that’s where they went.”
Crowley leaned closer to the box to get a closer look at the dates. “All the way back in 1825, too. Impressive.”
“Indeed.”
Aziraphale’s letter was displayed first, on the left, and read:
“My dearest Crowley,
I hope you’re doing alright in Scotland. I received some worrying information from the newspapers that there had recently been a ship collision that killed a great number of humans; I pray you weren’t caught up in that. Your last letter indicated that you’d be in the area for some time, but I simply can’t bear knowing that there’s a possibility of you being in any danger (but at the very least, I hope that you haven’t had to do any re-corporation paperwork). Please write to me or return to England soon. I’m eager to further discuss our Arrangement away from prying eyes.
Sincerely,
Aziraphale”
Crowley’s responding letter, on the right, read:
“Angel,
There’s no need for you to worry. I wasn’t involved in the ship collision in the slightest bit. In other news, I’ve taken care of all the business I’ve had to in Scotland for now (with no discorporations, thankfully), so you can expect me back in your bookshop very soon if this letter isn’t proof enough that I’m alright.
- Crowley
P.S. Have there been any complications with our Arrangement? Nobody’s noticed anything yet to my knowledge.”
Both silently read over the correspondence, reminiscing, until Crowley decided to read the caption under the papers and began snickering to himself.
“What are you laughing at?”
“Look what they wrote about us in the description.”
Aziraphale looked below the faded yellow papers to the caption. The first paragraph or so was a description of the ship collision they referred to in their letters, but the second onwards...
“Oh, good Lord.” Aziraphale’s eyebrows knit together, surprised once again.
The caption innocently stated that this correspondence was an exchange between two presumed male lovers (based not only on this correspondence, but multiple others that weren’t currently on display), with one living in Scotland on business and the other in England at the time. No full names were listed anywhere on the letters, and the envelopes they were mailed in were nowhere to be found, so these two must have used code names to avoid their relationship (or their Arrangement, as they put it) being found out by anyone else. These names, as it happened, were Aziraphale and Crowley.
Aziraphale, embarrassed and feeling heat rising to his face, curtly adjusted his overcoat and bowtie. “I have no idea where they could’ve gotten that information from. I really don’t think it’s obvious at all. We’re not …you know.”
Crowley, however, seemed slightly amused by it all instead of embarrassed. “I knew there were rumors going around about us. I just didn’t know it extended to the humans.”
“If Heaven or Hell catch any wind of this, we might be put in danger. I really ought to ask the curators to take this down.”
“And how, pray tell, are you going to explain that we were the ones who wrote those letters 200-ish years ago, angel?”
Aziraphale paused, deep in thought, then sighed. “Never mind. I’m sure it’ll be fine. Our respective superiors seem to be leaving us alone for the time being, anyway.”
“Well, either way, that’s something you don’t see every day.”
“Certainly not.”
They skimmed through the rest of the letters on display in the room, still chatting occasionally, and very grateful that that had been the only display of theirs so far. While making their way to the next exhibit, however, Aziraphale found himself unable to stop wondering how on Earth the humans decided they were lovers. Crowley didn’t seem bothered by it in the slightest. Realizing something, Aziraphale discreetly waved his hand, and the few people in the room they entered suddenly decided the next room was much more interesting.
“Do you think, Crowley, that the reason why the curators…labelled us that way in the caption of our letters was due to our references to the Arrangement being taken out of context?” he asked tentatively.
Crowley, slightly surprised that Aziraphale wanted to bring it up again, took a second to choose his answer. “Mgh, yeah, probably. Though it’s a bit more than just an Arrangement now, I’d think.”
“What do you mean?”
Crowley shrugged his shoulders. “Well, we were godfathers for eleven years…”
“Hmm.”
“And then we stopped Armageddon together,” he continued.
“Yes, that’s right…”
“And then we switched bodies for our trials—”
“Shh! Someone might hear you,” Aziraphale warned, nervously glancing upwards. Crowley shrugged again and dropped the topic. “I do see your point, though. It hasn’t been just an Arrangement for a very long time, I’m afraid.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
Aziraphale pretended not to hear him.
Some time later, after making a full lap around all of the exhibits including a short stop in the gift shop, the angel and demon found themselves back at the front of the museum, where the same employee as earlier still stood at the front desk.
“Did you two enjoy the museum?” they asked expectantly, happy to see that they had made their way around fully.
“Oh, absolutely. So many forgotten publications I’d only ever heard of. It’s a wonder how the curators even got their hands on some of them!” Aziraphale replied, smiling hugely.
“Isn’t it just? I don’t think we’d be where we are now without our donors.”
“We especially liked the room with all the letters ,” Crowley mentioned, gently nudging Aziraphale with his arm and grinning.
The employee lit up at this. “Oh, good! Queer history really is so important to preserve, and letters like those can be such an interesting glance into the lives of those who came before us,” they said.
“Indeed it is. Humanity certainly has come a long way,” Aziraphale responded kindly, while Crowley approached the door.
“Coming, angel?”
“Oh, yes.” He looked back at the employee as he turned to follow Crowley. “This really was marvelous. Thank you.”
“Hope to see you and your husband back here soon!” they said with a wave.
Aziraphale stopped in his tracks, and so did Crowley. “My- my husband?”
“Oh, sorry, are you two not-?”
“He’s- he’s not my- no, I’m afraid not,” Aziraphale stammered, heat rising to his face once again and rendering him unable to know what to do with himself.
“Ah, my apologies. See you soon,” they corrected. Aziraphale nodded, embarrassed once again, and left with Crowley, who didn’t seem to mind the mistake.
“Lift home, then?”
“If- if you don’t mind.”
As Crowley drove and Aziraphale tried to ignore the near-misses with other cars and pedestrians, he silently pondered that day’s events. He thoroughly enjoyed the museum, yes, but…were he and Crowley actually that obvious, despite not being romantically involved in the slightest (as much as Aziraphale enjoyed the thought)?
“Do we really come off that way to other people?” he asked quietly.
“How do you mean?” Crowley turned his head from the road to Aziraphale.
“Well, first there was the caption under our letters, and then the employee thought we were…you know.”
“I suppose we do, to some,” Crowley responded calmly, hearing a screech and shifting his attention back to the road.
“Hmm. I never thought we seemed as such. Do you think our head offices think we’re doing more than just…working together?” Aziraphale questioned uncertainly, glancing towards the ceiling of the Bentley as he spoke.
“Ah, doubtful. If they truly believed that, we’d’ve been off Earth duty ages ago.”
Aziraphale seemed slightly relieved by this. “Yes, of course, of course…that’s all well, then. I was worried we’d have to change how we act with each other,” he admitted.
“...Would you have? If they thought that, I mean?”
Aziraphale thought carefully, the car going silent for a brief moment. “No, I don’t believe so. It would be odd to force myself to act differently with you in private just because of what others think. We know how we are, don’t we?”
Crowley nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, we know how we are.”
“...Quite right.”
Shortly after, the Bentley slowed to a stop in front of Aziraphale’s bookshop, and Crowley got out of the car to see him off. Aziraphale, however, stopped in front of the door and turned around. “Aren’t you coming inside?”
“Am I?”
“I thought you were.”
Crowley locked the doors of the Bentley at this and approached Aziraphale as he turned the key to the front door. “I don’t think this is helping our reputation, angel.”
“Oh, please. Is it so wrong to want good company?”
“A demon, good company? You’ve really fallen off the deep end, Aziraphale,” Crowley mused, smirking.
“Hush, you. Come inside, it’s getting cold,” he said, holding the door open for him.
Crowley entered without hesitation, removing his sunglasses once past the threshold, and Aziraphale gently shut the door behind him. Good company, indeed.