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Andy didn't mind the early morning bus.
Okay, she did. It was hard not to, when it meant waking up before the birds above her window had had the chance to annoy her. And yes, she was wearing mismatched socks because her will to be alive had only gone so far as to ensure her shirt was the right side up...
But it was peaceful, was the thing.
No big crowds to contend with, as she took care of all her earthly obligations. In and out, that had always been her motto, and she had carried on like this, faithfully, for years now. She was very good at it.
Besides, it was barely 8. It wasn't even that early, she was just being a tad dramatic. And sleep-deprived. Couldn’t forget that load-bearing excuse, after all. Too early for the outside world, still, she noted smugly, as she clambered the stairs of the bus. The silence around her, as warm and peaceful as her belief she would be done in no time.
There were two kinds of people when it came to the 8 am Saturday bus. She had been doing this long enough to be able to neatly put them into boxes, each one with its identifying marker and species-typical behaviour. What? It wasn’t like there was much to do, in the early hours of the morning, but to observe people.
The first kind, like Andy, who were desperately eager to finish all their tasks for the day so they could go back to activities they would enjoy much more. In her case, that meant going back to bed, safe in the knowledge there would be nothing to distract her from her one true purpose. But that was neither here nor there.
Or, the second kind, the much more mystifying one. The people who were extending the night, those who had yet to enjoy the warm embrace of their bed.
What awaited her on the top of the bus, was a prime example of both.
Andy glanced at them once, her eyes not yet convinced of the merits of being open. What she saw in passing, she forgot almost immediately.
And so it continued. Yet another peaceful day of her existence. What more could she possibly want?
“The theatre,” said a voice from behind her. A little gruff, and slurring so badly, she felt like she could get drunk from it.
Well. Some silence would have been nice.
As surreptitiously as possible, for someone operating on 4 hours of sleep and 2 black coffees already, she glanced back. Finally managed to bribe her eyes with the promise of a nice book, if they could focus for a few moments.
The two men were sitting a few rows behind her. The red-haired one, by the window, and dressed like he had just crawled out of the tenth nightclub of the night, before dragging himself upstairs, and… She really had no idea how he had managed that, judging by the way he was speaking. A blond man, right beside him, clothes and scowl resembling the dozens of teachers Andy had disappointed in her life.
She shouldn't have bothered being careful. They weren't even looking at her.
The redhead, the one that had presumably spoken, was looking at his companion expectantly. Sitting- and she really hesitated to call that spine-crunching sprawl he was inflicting upon himself that, but needs must. Sitting, all over his own seat and half of his companion's too. His arm stretched over the top of the other person's seat, forcing him to sit at the very edge of it. Back ramrod straight.
Andy couldn’t judge. Honestly, the drunk one was probably doing him a favour, with how filthy those seats looked.
No, actually. She did judge. It wasn’t even the severe sprawl that had the man fully draped all over his companion's back that earned her ire. No, it was her exhaustion and yearning for the day to be already over, that had her unable to stop herself from judging.
"What was that, my dear?" the other man asked, voice so soft it left no doubt in Andy's mind that they knew each other.
Well. Okay. That made the scene before her less outrageous than she had assumed. Still, way too early for the first man to be this drunk, she thought. Not judging.
"The theatre," the drunk man repeated, as if the content of his words was the problem, and not the way they had been slurred out. "That's where I'm going to take you today."
Yeah, right. If he didn't swagger himself into a heap at the bottom of the stairs, first. But it appeared his friend had a lot more confidence in his drunken abilities than Andy did. Which, to be fair, wasn't hard. She could hardly believe the man was even upright.
Well. He wasn't, so there was that.
Damn, she should really leave those men alone, shouldn't she?
Just as she was turning away, she caught a glimpse of the most ridiculous happy wiggle she had ever seen. On anyone, let alone someone who was very firmly middle-aged.
She wasn't smiling. This was her, fighting a yawn.
"Oh, that would be lovely. There is a splendid production of Hamlet today that I have been meaning to see for a while now."
Andy wasn't even looking at him, but she could tell he was beaming. She could also tell that his friend was not.
"Of course you'd bloody know that."
A groan, followed by a thud. Andy stared at the trees they were passing. She wondered if she would have any time to go feed the ducks today.
"Well-" A scoff, full of reproach. Clear enough to make her squirm in her seat. As if her favourite lecturer had just decided to scold her. "You are the one who offered."
Another groan. Faint shuffling, as if the drunk man was actually climbing onto his friend's lap. Andy was suddenly very interested in the moss on top of the bus stop they had just stopped in front of. She wondered if anyone cleaned those places. Surely, you couldn't expect the rain to wash it all away. Where would it go? Was there a gutter for this? She could not see one.
What she was actually doing, was trying to ignore the reflection of the two men in the window. Despite the many evidence to the contrary, she wasn't really a stalker. Honestly. She was far too curious, and prone to getting excited over other people’s drama, to be a good stalker.
Even then, she could clearly see that no climbing of any sort was happening behind her. Only one man, very obviously flustered, trying to pacify someone who looked like he might just strangle him.
"It was-" The drunk man waved a hand, like he was conducting the orchestra. But with all the grace of someone trying to clear their sleeve of something vile. "What you call it, an expression. Shouldn't take it literally."
"The theatre is an expression?"
The blond man turned to his companion. Andy wasn't able to see the face he was making, but didn't think she would need to. She was pretty sure she was making the same one.
A string of noises followed. Human ones, she was hoping, unless one of those men was harbouring a wild animal on top of too much energy for 8 am on a Saturday... She wasn’t going to turn around again. She wasn’t.
"Let me buy you dinner?" A desperate squeak that Andy almost missed, too busy telling herself that eavesdropping was wrong. And also that the men behind her weren’t that interesting anyway.
Still, she couldn't stop herself from smiling. Someone was in the doghouse, it seemed. It was funny how the blond man had been able to overlook his companion's many transgressions, but had drawn the line at being fake-invited to the theatre.
Actually... no, that seemed to be the most reasonable thing that had happened behind her.
With interest, but not nearly as much trepidation as the drunk man, she was sure, she waited for the answer. And waited. Did not turn around, she was very proud of herself for that. Still continued to wait.
"Is that an expression too?" the other man asked, curtly. Oh, he was a bastard, that one. Andy almost laughed, before she realised she was not supposed to be eavesdropping on strangers.
Another slew of incoherent noises, concerning enough to make her turn towards the two men again. But, no, no strange animals hiding anywhere. Just one man, his face as red as his hair, eyes comically wide even under the tinted glasses he was wearing at 8 am. And another one, smiling expectantly, eyebrows raised in a challenge. His back still so far removed from the seat as if it would give him the plague, and... fair enough.
But now he was leaning slightly into his friend's arm instead, almost tucked into his embrace. Shoulder bouncing against a narrow chest with each bump of the bus.
That wasn't friendly teasing. The two men were not planning a friendly outing.
She snapped her head forward, cheeks darkening.
Well.
Their fault for flirting quite so blatantly so early in the morning, she decided.
"'Course not. What sort of expression would that be?"
Oh, but that man really wasn’t making it any better, was he? She wondered if he was even trying. Because this really wasn’t the way to make your partner forget you had fucked up. Andy should know, having had plenty of partners who had needed to do some quality grovelling.
Whatever he was doing, though, it seemed to be working. Even she was able to hear the softness creep into the blond man's voice, as he turned to his companion.
"The same one, I would wager, as being invited 'to the theatre'."
She could also almost hear the quotation marks. Whoever this man was, he was as ridiculous as he was adorable. It felt like that opinion was shared by at least one more passenger on the bus.
From the window, she watched as the redhead pressed a palm to his face, grumbling something that she had no hope of deciphering.
Even when he removed his hand, all that drifted towards her were scattered words.
"Bastard- Sitting there with your curly little- and your neat white-"
Well, that was one way to get your… boyfriend? Husband? Partner, at the very least, less mad at you. Yes, call him a bastard, make it all better, Andy thought. And then had to wonder whether she would get to witness a domestic on the 8 am bus. As much as she loved drama, she didn’t think she could handle yelling so early in the morning.
Not that the blond man seemed prone to violence, at least. He was grinning, or what looked like grinning in the slightly blurry reflection of the window.
“Are you quite finished, my dear?” he said, smugly dry as you please. It would have made Andy give the man an appreciative once-over. Except she had it on good authority that she wasn’t really his type. Plus, it would be rude, ogling the man, right in front of his partner.
“Indian?” said partner asked, after the requisite few seconds of guttural sounds.
The other man just hummed. He didn’t sound very impressed, but then again, how could Andy tell? She had only known these people for... How much time had she spent eavesdropping on these two strangers again?
She must have got it right, though, because the drunk one tried again, “Mexican?”
The humming took on a threatening pitch. Andy mapped out her exit. It wouldn’t be hard, she was sitting closer to the stairs. She could be at the bottom of the stairs at the first raised syllable. Certainly, before any blows had come to pass.
Although, more and more, it was starting to feel like they were just teasing each other. Where people got the energy to flirt like that, so early in the morning, was truly beyond her.
Frankly, she was kind of envious. She could only hope that one day she would have someone she could bicker with like this. While obviously caring for them deeply.
"Sushi."
It wasn't a question, and it also appeared to be the right thing to suggest. The blond man wiggled in his seat, palms pressing against his thighs in such clear delight, Andy wanted to feed him sushi.
Despite herself, she scoured her mind for the closest sushi place. The one near the fish market was nice, and it seemed to be open at all times. Perhaps a little treat was in order, for having suffered the verbal equivalent of a house of mirrors for half an hour now.
"That would be amenable," the blond man said, voice far too even for the happiness he was radiating. He wasn't fooling anyone, let alone the man he, Andy was assuming, had been with for quite some time.
She idly wondered for how long, exactly. The way the drunk one was looking at his companion, smiling softly at the happy wiggles… It spoke of something new and exciting, still. The comfortable bickering, the teasing that went just a touch too far... Now that, that made her think of a couple who had spent decades learning exactly where it was appropriate to nudge and poke.
She was getting too invested in this. Plus, it was her stop soon and it was high time she prepared to face the outside world, and leave behind this very weird but very obviously smitten couple.
"And later today, we can enjoy a wonderful production of Hamlet," the first man said. It also wasn’t a question. He didn't let up, did he?
Possibly, because his companion's only answer was a groan and a weak, "Sure."
Whipped, that one. Almost made up for the fact he was visibly sloshed so early in the morning.
"You are not a very good negotiator, are you, my dear?" the blond man teased, words that would have been borderline rude, in any other scenario.
It tempted Andy into having another look. Properly this time, turning her head to glance at the couple and everything.
The first man looked relaxed, body resting against the dreaded seat. Entirely coincidentally, Andy was sure, against the other man’s outstretched arm too. He was smiling, the self-satisfied glow of someone who could not imagine a better way to spend their weekend, than in the arms of their partner. Having just secured himself sushi and a date to the theatre, too.
The other man... To continue characterising what he was doing as sitting, would be a grave insult to legs and seats everywhere. It was almost like he was slowly dripping to the floor, all his limbs in various states of liquid.
But he had stopped slurring, Andy realised. Yeah, he had been grumbling and the noises he was making were not something that might leave a sober man’s mouth. A drunk man’s mouth, either. Oh. Oh, no.
Was this his normal state?
"I don't know. Got you right where I want you, don't I?" he drawled, and yep. This was not drunk slurring. This was not a drunk person. Andy stared.
Luckily, neither of the men was paying her any mind. Why would they, she was just a random person on the bus. Of course, they wouldn't worry about what she was doing or what she was saying. That would be certifiably deranged.
Funny how even the wiggle of shame under her skin wasn't enough to make her turn around.
The other man, the not-drunk one, except they both weren't drunk... The one that looked like an angel, Andy conceded to herself. He raised an eyebrow, his expression a pretty mixture of amusement and curiosity.
"And where do you want me?"
Andy should really turn around now. Possibly even go downstairs. Possibly even get off the bus. Her stop was close enough, she could walk from here.
Wait, had she missed her stop?
The redhead leant forward, head almost nuzzling into his partner’s blond curls. He whispered something, something very low and very indecent, judging by the flush that bloomed on both of their faces. Clearly contagious, it descended upon Andy in seconds too.
The angelic one gasped, palm landing against a narrow chest. But he didn't jump out of his partner's embrace, didn't even attempt to move away. Yep. This was Andy turning away.
Any moment now.
"Hey, you are the one that sat next to me!" the redhead cackled, teeth flashing.
And it could have been the early hour. It could have been the fact that Andy had just spent the good part of an hour staring at fogged windows and straining her ears to pick up the conversation of strangers. Because this did not make a lick of sense to her.
Another gasp, this one far more delighted than scandalised. Another pat on the chest.
"Foul fiend," the blond man hissed through a smile, before climbing to his feet. Andy whipped around. Cutting it very close, wasn't she? "This is my stop. Would you like to accompany me, my dear?"
Her heart was beating too loudly, drowning the response. There was something nagging at her mind, something that she knew she was missing. The way they were talking-
From the corner of her eye, she watched as both men poured into the aisle. And was almost tempted to rethink her theory on how drunk one of them was, as his walk had too much hip movement to belong to a sober person. Except. Except, when his companion stumbled, a sharp turn sending him careening to the side, the other man was there. Hands weaving around a soft waist, fingers sinking into a beige coat.
They shared a smile. Andy was sure that whatever she had thought, had been nothing more than a delusional offspring of her overactive imagination and her fatigued mind.
"Careful, angel," the redhead mumbled, leaning forward. Or dragging the other man against his chest. Whatever the movement, it served only to press them closer together.
And there was so much feeling in those words... It once again made her wonder how long they had been together. They were so comfortable in each other's presence, it must have been yea-
"Thank you, my darling." The blond man seemed to glow with each step that they took, still so carefully entwined. "And my name is Aziraphale."
This time, there was nothing to disguise Andy's gasp. Surely, this was just an inside joke. Surely, it didn't mean what she thought it meant.
The redhead laughed, a sharp sound that echoed in the empty bus. Andy's empty mind, too. Surely-
"Crowley. Now, let's get you that sushi, shall we?"