Chapter Text
The rain was pouring down the windows of Crowley's Bentley. It had been this whole evening, keeping the demon awake. He couldn't bear those kind of nights, left alone with his thoughts, missing his angel. He'd been living in his car for a while now, since Shax took his apartment. It wasn't very comfortable, but the demon didn't really care anymore.
His car was parked a few blocks away from the bookshop, but he hadn't visited since Aziraphale left. He just couldn't. The wound was too fresh.
He wondered how he was doing, though, in heaven. Archangel Aziraphale. He scoffed.
"Where are you angel? How stupid of me to think that we could've-"
Thunder startled him out of his thoughts. Upon seeing a lightning and hearing more thunder, he laughed miserably. It was beautiful, so beautiful, and described exactly what he’d been feeling for the past weeks. He opened the car window and held his left hand outside. The cold water ran over his fingers, calming down the storm in his head. He sat upright and opened the door. Upon stepping out, he realised he didn’t have a jacket. Doesn’t matter. Who cares anyway?
He walked down the street, completely soaked, and with his hair plastered on his head. There it is. The bookshop. It looked like it always had, but it just didn’t feel the same. Miracling the door open, the demon went inside anyway.
He stood still. The silence was loud. So, so loud. Aziraphale would have come to greet him immediately, no matter what time it was. But no one was there. Of course not. Besides, he never loved you anyway. The heavenly scent of angels was still there, though. Everything looked nice and clean. It seemed like Muriel was doing a very good job. A sad smile appeared on the demon’s face. Muriel had been very lonely before finally being allowed to go to Earth. He hoped they were alright.
He crashed on the couch and realised how cold he felt. Whatever. Demons don’t deserve warmth. The exhaustion got to him and he fell asleep.
Birds were chirping.
No nightingales.
Awoken by the sweet sound, Crowley hummed quietly. He stopped when he heard footsteps on the stairs. A confused-looking angel appeared.
"Ah! Muriel!"
"Oh! Mr. Crowley?"
The surprised look on Muriel's face almost made him laugh. Almost. He spread his arms.
"Who else would I be?"
The angel smiled awkwardly, not knowing what to say. Maggie and Nina had been asking about him, though. They hadn't heard anything from the demon since Aziraphale left.
"Nina and Maggie asked about you."
Lowering his black glasses, revealing a slight bit of his yellow eyes, he answered: "Oh, did they? Don't tell them I'm here."
"Oh, why not?"
Why not?
"You really should be careful, you know? Angels aren't supposed to ask questions."
Muriel looked away, feeling ashamed. Bad angel. Bad, bad angel.
Upon seeing the sudden change in their mood, Crowley realized he must've gone too far. He never meant to make Muriel feel bad.
"It's just, you know, not a good time," he sighed.
The angel nodded slightly and tried to smile, but it didn't reach their eyes anymore. They looked so … sad.
"You haven’t sold any books right?"
"N-no. Do you want a cuppatea?"
"Oh, no no, I'd rather have some black coffee."
"Oh, okay."
Muriel walked into the kitchen, trying to hide the fact that they didn't know what they were doing at all. They hadn't eaten or drunk anything since that day.
Of course, Crowley noticed. He got up.
"Muriel, tell me, do you even know how to make black coffee?"
Walking towards them, he took two mugs out of the kitchen cabinet. The angel just stood there, slightly scared upon seeing that Crowley had taken two mugs. He put them down on the kitchen table and let some water boil.
“You want tea, I suppose?”
“Um, yeah.”
Muriel tried to smile but it didn’t look so convincing.
“What kind?”
“Oh! U-um, whatever it is humans always choose?”
Crowley sighed, but his eyes softened when he saw the angel flinch.
“Okay well, green tea maybe?”
Their eyes lit up a little and they nodded.
“Here’s your tea.”
The demon put the cup on the kitchen table. Muriel sat down and hesitantly took it in their hands.
“Thanks.”
Crowley went to sit in front of them.
“So, has anything happened here?”
Frowning and spinning around their cup of tea, the angel smiled awkwardly and tried to make their answer sound as sincere as possible.
“No, everything's going just fine here! Business as usual, no books sold.”
Crowley raised his eyebrows. Something’s wrong.
“Are you sure?”
Their eyes widened.
"Yes! Of course!”, they stammered.
The demon nodded slowly, carefully watching the angel. They were definitely hiding something, but upon seeing Muriel’s discomfort he figured it was best to try finding out what later.
He decided to take a different approach. The angel looked like they hadn’t eaten in weeks, and Crowley just felt obligated to ask about it.
“Don’t you eat breakfast here?”
When he saw Muriel getting even more uncomfortable, he immediately regretted asking. It’s not like he’d eaten anything since Aziraphale left. The only thing he’d had was alcohol.
“You know what, don’t answer that. I haven’t eaten anything either.”
Avoiding the demon’s eyes, Muriel tried to think of something to say.
“We can try and eat breakfast now. Both of us. I have no idea how to make it though.”
Although Crowley really didn’t feel like eating, he knew this was the only way he’d get the angel to eat. He miracled some food.
“Okay, that’s fine, I’ll show you.”
“Thanks.”