Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

At fifty-something, Aziraphale was a handsome, soft, quiet man with rosy cheeks and a smile on his face. He lived in a comfy, quaint loft apartment above his bookshop. His apartment was a cozy place, overflowing with books, bookshelves lining every inch of wall space. The décor and furniture were thrifted— sturdy, worn items that somehow felt warm[1].

Aziraphale always woke early from his comfy bed with a yawn, humming contentedly to himself. He’d then get up to pad slowly to get to the start of his day. With tea ready, Aziraphale would then sit down at his desk where his computer sat. Said computer was a bit older of a model, but worked just fine for Aziraphale. It was a device his friends had pressured him into getting by saying that Aziraphale needed to get with the times. Aziraphale had scoffed and said he’d never use the thing, but, as if ineffable, he was drawn and sucked in. There was so much access to eons of research that Aziraphale could get lost in!

Aziraphale logged on and the computer under his screen name “Angel_of_EastGate.” The computer made its beeping and then its whirling screeching noise. The noises of the device as the computer dialled the access number and connected had rather become welcome to Aziraphale.

“Welcome.” The computer greeted, making Aziraphale smile.

“So polite.” Aziraphale had always thought to himself.

There was a particular reason Aziraphale logged in first thing in the morning: to read the email from a particular sender. Aziraphale was brimming with excitement to read whatever email awaited him from his correspondent, “Devilserpent_666”. What will he say today? Aziraphale wondered as he turned on his computer, waiting impatiently for it to boot up. His breath caught in his chest as he heard the most amazing three little words: “You’ve got mail.”

From: Devilserpent_666

Re: The Best Time of Day

The fact that you like mornings never ceases to confound me. How anyone beyond reason can like mornings is beyond me. Mornings are for crazy, pious people. Though that does fit your character. I, as the devil’s worker, much prefer the nightlife. Mornings are abhorrent, the birds far too chipper for such an hour, the sun far too bright, demanding my sunglasses. My body detests being dragged out of bed, and only a hot black coffee can get me sentient enough for work.

- AJ

Aziraphale giggled lightly at AJ’s message. Aziraphale happily and excitedly bopped side to side as he typed out his reply.

From: Angel_of_EastGate

Re: Re: The Best Time of Day

Oh, but mornings are lovely, my dear boy. In the morning, I can sit here at my computer and read your message from some ungodly hour of the night (as befitting of your character). I can sip my tea, while out the window birds flutter about, chirping as the sun shines through said window, warming me so on this fall morning.

Oh, don’t you just love fall? The colour of the leaves changing, the brisk cool autumn air, warm spiced teas, cozy knit sweaters. It just calls for you to cozy up inside by the fire with a nice cup of tea and an old, familiar book.

- Sincerely, your online correspondent and friend

After writing his reply to AJ, Aziraphale headed to his bookshop below his apartment to open it for the day.

A.Z. Books, Aziraphale’s shop, was tucked away in a cozy corner of Soho. It was the kind of shop that made a book lover’s heart swoon. The shelves were filled with a mismatched assortment of books, ranging from rare tomes and romance to childhood classics. The store smelled like books and welcomeness. There were some old, antique thrifted chairs and newer beanbag chairs hidden in the corner for people to sit and get lost in a book. At the far end, there was a raised carpeted platform for Storybook time[2].

Aziraphale prided himself in his bookshop, in becoming a cornerstone of the community. He helped many a frantic person find a last-minute present, college students find the exact reference book they needed to finish their paper, or inspire a child’s love of reading. Aziraphale liked to think of his bookshop as a cozy haven when one needed a quiet moment to escape into another world or simply to get away from the rain.

Aziraphale’s life was mostly solitary yet content. But even he couldn’t help but long for a romance that he’d never had in his many years of life. Was it selfish to long for someone to cuddle up with on the couch by the fire on a cold winter's night while an old movie played? Someone he could drink wine with and talk endlessly about… anything![3]

That is what initially drove Aziraphale to join a fifty-and-single chat room, where AJ’s handle of Devilserpent_666 had, admittedly, piqued Aziraphale’s interest. Under the handle Aziraphale had chosen for himself, he found it too ironic to pass up: an angel talking to a serpent of the devil.

Strangely, they had hit it off almost instantly and decided to remain as online pen pals. They came to an arrangement: no personal details other than those which they had already revealed to each other. It was thrilling and rather whimsical, in a way.

-

Aziraphale was humming happily away as he set up his shop. The bell above the door jingled as Anathema, one of Aziraphale’s workers, came in, shivering from the cold.

“Lovely weather, isn’t it?” Aziraphale tilted his head at her with a beaming smile.

Anathema chuckled as she began taking off her mitts and outerwear, coming over to hang her coat up behind the front desk. “Wow, Aziraphale. What’s got you all smiling? Smile any wider and your face will split in two.”

“I don’t know what you're talking about. I’m always in a chipper mood.” Aziraphale turned, ignoring her.

“Yeah, but you seem extra chipper today. Have you met someone?”

Aziraphale worked his lip. He hadn’t told anyone of his online correspondence with AJ. Nothing had exactly come of it; they were strictly just friends. “Well, there is someone.” He dared to admit.

Anathema gasped loudly; her features lit up with excitement, her eyes wide. “Tell me more! Who is he, what’s he like?”

“I’ve never actually met him.” Aziraphale wrung his hands nervously.

Anathema’s face turned in confusion.

“I met him online.” Aziraphale explained.

“Ooh!” A smirk turned on Anathema’s face. “Cyber sex?”

“What!” Aziraphale jolted. “No, no, no.” He shook his head fiercely.

Anathema chuckled quietly in amusement.

“It’s not like that.” Aziraphale turned away, almost offended that Anathema would think that of him. “We just talk, share correspondence.”

“Talk?”

“Yes! About everything! We give each other recommendations: books, movies, music, plays. Our conversations are endless.”

“So what do you know about him then?”

“Well not much, I’m afraid. We don’t talk about anything personal anymore, it’s what we agree, you see. All I know is he’s in his fifties, single, and lives here somewhere in London.”

Seeing Anathema’s widening eyes, Aziraphale added: “No, I don’t know exactly where he lives. I don’t know his name either, just his initials: AJ.”

“Anything else?”

“Well, I know he is very passionate and has rather invigorating thoughts on many things. He likes plants, classic cars, and rock music — Eighties, specifically Queen.”

Anathema hummed as her features turned slightly. “Doesn’t sound exactly like your type, Aziraphale.”

“I know, it’s so strange. And yet, conversation with him fills me with such excitement.”

Anathema smiled. “So, are you going to meet him?”

Aziraphale’s head ducked. “I don’t know… I dream about it sometimes, but… what if that ruins it all?”

Anathema hummed softly in sympathy.

“Anyway.” Aziraphale gave a shake of his head. “Time to get to work.” With that, he fluttered off to dust and rearrange the shelves.

/

Crowley had no idea what the man behind Angel_of_EastGate looked like or sounded like, but Crowley had concocted an image of the angel he talked to. Crowley imagined his angel looked as he came across: someone very prim and proper.

It was strange, for Angel was the sort of person exactly the opposite of whom Crowley usually connected with. He was a relic of the past, polite, funny, charming, and kind. Angel enthused to Crowley over their email correspondence his love of baked goods and Austen[4]. Angel certainly wasn’t the sort to go out to a sleezy bar to make out with a stranger sloppily, like Crowley did at late, ungodly hours of the night. And yet, Crowley kept talking with Angel, finding himself enraptured with the man. Crowley found rather quickly in their correspondents that there was a sly bastardry to Angel that he quite liked and made him smirk. It was to say, Crowley had fallen for him pretty hard and was quite smitten indeed.

Overall, Crowley’s correspondence with Angel offered him a reprieve from Crowley’s monotonous, soul-crushing day-to-day life, which mostly consisted of working long hours, and dealing with his boss’s merciless bullshit.

Crowley worked for Eden Books and had been tasked with the opening of a new store on a corner of Soho. Crowley drank his coffee, forcing himself to wake up, grumbling with discontent at the birds chittering overhead. The light was far too blinding[5]. But Crowley smiled softly to himself, thinking of how Angel would positively love it all, for he loved all things mornings.

Crowley had finished off his coffee, tossing the cup away to head into the empty shell of an in-construction building where a new Eden Books was scheduled to open Thanksgiving weekend. Inside, wires hung everywhere, and construction workers were working away. Crowley had to be careful where to step.

Finally, Crowley made his way upstairs to an office where Hastur and Ligur were already standing inside, on their phones.

“Morning,” Crowley muttered lowly in greeting.

The pair grunted a greeting in return, nodding their heads.

Hastur stepped forward. “The electrical contractor called. His truck hit a deer last night, and he won’t be in ’til tomorrow. The shelves are late because the shipment of pine had been delayed. And there’s some question about whether we’re installing the stairs in the right spot.”

“Great, just great.” Crowley rubbed his face. “Are we still on schedule?”

“We should still open for Thanksgiving.”

Crowley breathed a sigh of relief, dropping his hand from his face.

“We should announce ourselves soon to the neighbourhood,” Hastur spoke. “I imagine the minute they hear, they’ll be lining up to picket the big bad chain store that destroys everything they hold dear. But we’ll seduce them with our square footage, deep armchairs, amazingly swift checkout lines, discounts, and cappuccino. They always hate us at first, but we get them in the end. It’ll be the end of western civilization as they know it.” Hastur chuckled lowly, padding his fingers together[6].

“Great.” Crowley replied blankly. “Any other news I should be aware of?”

Ligur stepped forward then. “I have an unfortunate announcement to make.” He faked being somber. “City Books on 23rd Street is going under. Another independent bookstore bites the dust. On to the next!” Ligur smirked wickedly.

/

From: Angel_of_EastGate

Topic: Too Comfortable in Life?

Sometimes I wonder about my life. I lead a small life. And sometimes I wonder, do I only live such a small life because it is what has become comfortable to me? Sometimes I wonder if I  haven’t been brave by doing something greater with my life. When I read books of such wondrous adventures and experiences, I sometimes wonder if my life shouldn’t be more like that.

- Sincerely, your online correspondent and friend

Newt came into Aziraphale’s shop, shaking off the cool autumn chill. “Did you guys see the sign?”

“Sign?” Aziraphale and Anathema questioned together.

“An Eden Bookstore is opening just around the corner; that’s what all the construction is.”

Aziraphale gasped. “Oh, no!” [7]

“What does this mean for us?” Newt asked.

Aziraphale gathered himself, putting on a good front for his employees as if he wasn’t concerned at all. “It has nothing to do with us. It’s big, impersonal, overstocked and full of ignorant salespeople.”                       

“But they have discounts.”                       

Aziraphale raised a finger. “But they don’t provide any service. We… do!”

Later, Anathema and Newt were doing their research on Eden Books on their phones.

“You can buy anything. They even have a website where you can buy stuff from. They ship it to you in a day.” Anathema spoke to Newt.

“What if they put us out of business? I can’t lose this job, Anathema, I suck at doing anything else.” Newt's face fell.

Aziraphale's spirits fell to, his face screwing up in worry. Oh, why did that big, bad, evil bookstore franchise have to open up on his corner? They were so… impersonal. Look what they were doing, they’d put him and his employees out of a job. Did they not care even in the least bit? Was there no humanity left in the world?

[1] like those one might find in their grandparents' house.

[2] Weekends at 2 p.m., except for Holidays

[3] Aziraphale was, indeed, a bit of a hopeless romantic.

[4] Why anyone should be obsessed with Austen was lost on Crowley

[5] This is why Crowley always wore sunglasses

[6] like an evil Disney movie villain

[7] “I’m doomed,” Aziraphale thought to himself.

Chapter Text

A few years back[1], Thadeus had come into work frantic that their sitter was moving away. Crowley had strangely found himself offering himself up for the position and now had become Warlock’s signature Nanny.

It was a weekend that both Thadeus and Harriet were working, so Crowley was looking after a young, seven-year-old Warlock. Crowley figured a walk around town might be good for them; he could use some fresh air and the boy some outlet to channel his stirring energy. Warlock was rather a rambunctious thing.

“Nanny, look!” Warlock pointed up at a sign above a shop before them.

A.Z. Books, the gold lettering on the space over the shop door read. Underneath was the tagline: “All your book needs, A to Z.”

This was Crowley’s competition, or more aptly, Eden Books’ competition.

“Can we go inside, Nanny?” Warlock prodded Crowley by tugging at his hand.

“Fine.” Crowley huffed and let the young boy pull him into the shop. 

A little bell jingled over their head as the door opened and they came inside[2]. Warlock released Crowley’s hand, bounding off excitedly to explore the shop.

Crowley looked over the shop, taking it in. The shop was warm, cozy, more like a very large home library than a bookshop. Things looked haphazardly scattered about the place, yet there was a sense of purpose, with tiny cozy reading nooks hidden around every aisle.[3]

Crowley scanned a shelving rack, running his finger over worn, ancient book spines, marvelling in shock to see all the options there. There really was something for everyone’s needs.

As Crowley and Warlock explored the bookshop, more children suddenly came running in. Warlock perked up and padded after the children to the center of the book shop, as if drawn there like a child by the Pied Piper. A young woman stood before the children atop the carpeted raised platform, clapping her hands, declaring: “Storybook time.” The woman stepped away for a man to flutter over. A man that made Crowley’s breath catch, for they were stunning.

The man was probably Crowley’s age, with white curls, rosy cheeks, and wearing a nice yet casual tartan suit paired with an adorable bowtie. He looked absolutely huggable, like someone Crowley could very happily fall asleep atop. He probably smelled nice, too.

The man sat in the large, cozy-looking armchair atop the platform, greeting the children with a warm, soft voice. He pulled up a picture book resting on the table beside his seat to show it to the children, announcing whatever it was he was going to read to them that day. The children vibrated with withheld excitement as the man began reading about a Very Hungry Caterpillar. Crowley was enraptured. The man’s voice was so smooth and warm, delightful, rich, and sweet. His face was animated as he read. The children, sitting on the ground before him, were held on, rapt in attention, hanging on every syllable.

When the story was over, the man made polite conversation with the children before they flittered off. Crowley turned away to peruse some more shelves, pulling down some interesting titles for himself.

Crowley came out of the aisle, still inspecting a book he’d chosen, only to almost knock right into storybook time man himself. Crowley found himself being regarded by the most remarkably blue eyes and a face more beautiful than he’d ever seen; Crowley almost forgot to breathe.

“Oh, hello there.” The man smiled brightly up at Crowley. “You must watch where you're going, dear boy. Sunglasses inside?” His eyes creased in almost amused, quizzical judgment.

Crowley blinked, stepping back slightly to give the man space. “Right, sorry.”

“Oh, no need to apologize, I should have been paying attention myself. Occupational hazard, I’m afraid. Too many books.” The man waved his hand around the shop. Crowley was left a bit confused but nodded anyway.

“Dangerous place, this. Shelves lurking around corners.” Crowley joked with a smirk. “Treacherous paperbacks waiting to leap at you.”

The man chuckled softly, his cheeks a warm, rosy red. “Oh, they do that to me all the time. Especially the romance section. Positively predatory.”

Crowley’s smirk tinged into an amused one. “Ambushed by romance, my.”

“Well, that is…only within the pages.” An almost shy smile and blush crept up over the man’s face.

On any normal day, that would have been Crowley’s cue to give his contact information, but the words were caught in his throat.

“Aziraphale Fell.” The man's hand shot out in an offer to greet with a shake. “I own this store.”

Fuck. If Aziraphale found out who Crowley was, that who Crowley worked for would crush Aziraphale’s adorable quaint shop to the ground[4], that sparkle in Aziraphale’s eyes would dim and his smile would die.

 “And you are?” Aziraphale tilted his head in a charming, quizzical way that made Crowley’s breath catch and his heart skip a beat.

Fuck.                        

 “Crowley.” He got out. “You can just call me Crowley. Everyone calls me Crowley.”

“Well, nice to meet you, Crowley.” Aziraphale’s smile gleamed, and Crowley’s legs went a little weak.[5]

“Nanny, Look!” Warlock ran over then, waving a handful of thin comic books in the air. “It’s the Avengers! Can I get these?”

Crowley took the comics from Warlock to inspect, ensuring they had enough violence and blood to excite the young boy and anger his parents[6].

“And who’s this adorable little one?” Aziraphale smiled down at Warlock. Warlock timidly hid behind Crowley’s leg. “Is this your son?”

Crowley jolted at that. “God no.”

“Crowley’s my Nanny!” Warlock popped out from behind Crowley’s leg to proclaim with vigour. “He’s a boy Nanny.”

“Yes, Warlock. Enough of that now.” Crowley patted the boy’s head, wanting him to shut up.

“Oh yes. Nannies can be boys, too.” Aziraphale nodded. “We can all be anything we want to be.” Aziraphale smiled warmly. His eyes flickered back up to Crowley then. “Would you like me to ring those books up for you?” He reached out, his hands just barely brushing Crowley’s.

“Ngk.” Crowley got out. Fuck, Crowley’s heart was fluttering out of his chest. You’d think he’d never been around another man before in all his life. What was wrong with him?

Aziraphale made a delightful little titter at that. “Let me take those from you, dear.” Aziraphale took the books and fluttered over to the back of the front desk. Crowley followed, Warlock behind him.

“I must thank you for your patronage and plea you to come back again,” Aziraphale spoke.

Crowley nodded dumbly. Warlock jumped up onto a step before the desk so he could look over and watch Aziraphale working.

“You see, they’re opening an Eden Books around the corner.” Aziraphale continued.

“Eden Books! My Daddy and Nanny—"

Crowley’s hand shot out to cover Warlock’s mouth, muffling his words. Crowley hissed at Warlock, warning the boy to keep silent.

Aziraphale didn’t even seem to register the act before him, however, continuing on. “I fear they may put me out of business.”             

“It’ll be fine,” The young female worker leaned over to pat Aziraphale’s shoulder.

“Yes.” Aziraphale straightened out tall. “Sure, they sell at discount,” He began ringing Crowley’s books through with vigour. “But they don’t have this place’s charm and ambience, they don’t have our collection of rare books, and they definitely don’t have storybook time. Discounts do not drive the world, believe me. I’ve been in business forever, and what I’ve learned over my time is that it’s all about growing relationships.”

Aziraphale began packing the books into a canvas bag. “Helping people become whoever they are going to turn out to be. You see, when you read a book as a child, it becomes part of your identity in a way that no other reading in your life does.” Aziraphale sighed wistfully, Crowley’s rung up books lying on the front desk before him in the canvas bag.

Aziraphale shook his head then, as if bringing himself back to the moment at present. “Sorry, I’ve gotten carried away.” He chuckled and smiled, handing the books back over in the canvas bag.    

“Right, well, thank you,” Crowley replied. “Good luck with your bookstore. I should get this little one back.” Crowley’s hand fell to Warlock’s back.

“Nice day to you both.” Aziraphale smile warmly. “Come again soon.”

Crowley coaxed Warlock to jump down from the step and follow him. Warlock did so, only turning back to wave with a smile. “Bye!”

Aziraphale waved goodbye with a warm smile on his face, and the pair left the shop. Crowley’s heart was still fluttering, though his stomach was in turmoil.

“Why didn't you want that man to know you work with Daddy at Eden Books?” Warlock asked as he skipped along beside Crowley on the street.

“Why’d you think that?” Crowley tilted his head down at the boy.

“Do you think he's pretty?” Warlock looked up to Crowley with big, excited eyes.

“No.” Crowley's head quickly snapped up, looking away from the boy and his accusations.  

“You do!” Warlock giggled. “You were staring at him the whole time. I was watching. You want to kiss him.” Warlock teased with a giggle.

“Why don’t you take your books?” Crowley shoved the bag he was holding at Warlock to get the boy to shut up.

[1] seven to be precise

[2] “Quaint,” Crowley thought to himself.

[3] Quaint indeed.

[4] just like every other in London

[5] Yep, Crowley was truly fucked.

[6] Crowley would not be a respectable Nanny otherwise.

Chapter Text

Aziraphale hummed happily as he fixed his bowtie, getting ready to head out. He was going out to a matinee followed by some light refreshments offered in the hall afterward. He was quite looking forward to it.

After a delightful re-enactment of Hamlet, Aziraphale was enjoying the finger food offered to him in the hall. People were lingering about, chatting with one another; men in nice tuxes and ladies in the most stunning dresses. Aziraphale wondered if he should try to strike up a conversation with anyone.

Just then, Aziraphale spotted a familiar face at the drink table. It was the man with red hair from his shop the other day, the one Aziraphale had noted for being tall, dark and handsome indeed. Aziraphale gathered his courage about him and made to walk over, deciding to say hello and see if they might strike up a conversation.

Crowley, Aziraphale remembered the man’s name, was wearing a rather fine, well-fitting tux with a loose tie. He looked damn good in it, too. He was drinking a champagne as Aziraphale cleared his throat to announce himself.

“Hello.”     

Crowley jolted, turning around to Aziraphale. Crowley blinked, seeming taken off guard, surprised to see Aziraphale. Aziraphale’s breath was taken from him, for he found Crowley had the most stunning amber eyes[1].

“Hi.” Crowley greeted him tightly back.                

“Crowley, right? Aziraphale,” Aziraphale pointed to himself. “Remember me, from the bookstore?” Aziraphale inquired.                  

 “Of course. I remember you.” Crowley blinked, nodding.

“Fancy seeing you here.” Aziraphale offered a friendly smile.

“I like the theatre.” Crowley offered a slight raise of his champagne glass.

“You are an aficionado of Shakespeare’s works, then?” Aziraphale tilted his head with intrigue.

Crowley shrugged. “He’s not proclaimed as the master playwright for nothing, right?”

Aziraphale chuckled at that. “Yes, indeed. What did you think then, of the play?”

“Hamlet’s alright.” Crowley sipped his glass. “Never been one of my favourites, though. I don’t get why it’s proclaimed to such an extent compared to his other works.”

“Oh?” Aziraphale perked up with intrigue. “What are your favourites of his then?” Aziraphale moved to take a champagne glass for himself.

“Macbeth’s got some style. Ambition, murder, witches. Bit more to my tastes.”

Aziraphale smiled at that as he sipped his glass. “What is it you do then for a living? You never said.”

Crowley’s eyes flicked away. “I work for Eden Books.”

Aziraphale gasped in alarm. “You… You work for Eden Books and you… came into my shop!” Aziraphale’s head went spinning with it. “I bet you didn’t come to shop at all! I bet you were spying on me!” He accused, furious. “You probably rented that child.”

“Why would I spy on you?” Crowley’s eyebrows furrowed together, staring down upon Aziraphale.                 

 “I am your competition. And I know you were spying because you stole my slogan!”

“Your slogan?”

“All your book needs, A to Z. That’s my slogan! You put up a sign with my exact same slogan right where you're putting that new hideous building of yours for your book empire!”

“You don’t own the phrase.” Crowley scoffed back.

“You stole it!” Aziraphale cried. “Next thing you’ll be using twinkling lights.”                    

“Twinkling lights?” Crowley’s face turned confused again.                 

“You know, those little white Christmas lights that twinkle.” Aziraphale waved his fingers a bit to emulate twinkling lights. “I use them in my window and on all my displays, as if you didn’t notice.”  Aziraphale turned with a huff, crossing his arms around his chest.           

Crowley huffed, shaking his head. He then stepped away to another refreshment table. Aziraphale’s eyes trailed after Crowley, finding him scraping icing off a cake!

“What are you doing? You can’t do that!” Aziraphale cried, running over.

“I’m taking the icing,” Crowley said, unbothered.

“You’re ruining a perfectly good cake for others is what you're doing! Are you really so selfish?”

Crowley glared firmly at Aziraphale. “You’ll find that I am.” With that, he popped an icing-covered spoon into his mouth, leaving Aziraphale aghast.

With the spoon cleaned off, Crowley spoke with conviction. “Look, the reason I came into your shop was that I was spending the day with Warlock. I didn’t come to spy. I’ll admit, you have a charming little bookstore. But let’s see, you probably sell $250,000 worth of books a year?”                    

“What of it?” Aziraphale couldn’t help the tinge of worry through him.

“I’m in the book business and I’m afraid to say, $250,000 a year, not very good business.” Crowley stole more icing from a cake with a spoon and popped it into his mouth.

Aziraphale's face scrunched up at Crowley’s words.

“All I’m saying is you and your store are a relic of the past. Times are changing, no longer is this the time of the mom-and-pop shop, but the way of the retail chain store.”

“Oh, but doesn’t that hurt your soul just a little. They’re so… impersonal.”

“Business isn’t personal.”

“Well, maybe it should be!” Aziraphale spat, his conviction and the anger Crowley stirred up in him shocking even himself. “You and your kind destroy the lives of good, honest people. How can you sleep at night with yourself?”

“I find alcohol a good sedative.” Crowley moved to pick up another flute of champagne, finishing it off with a quick swig to put the empty glass back down. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I pray we never meet again.” He stated with an almost annoyed grimace.

“Likewise!” Aziraphale replied snippily before they stormed off in a huff in opposite directions.

/

From: Devilserpent_666

Subject: The Worst Version of Myself

Do you ever feel you become the worst version of yourself? That a Pandora’s Box of all the secret, hateful parts of your arrogance, your spite, your condescension has sprung open.        Someone provokes you, and instead of just smiling and moving on, you zing them. Hello, it’s me, the devil. I’m sure you, as an angel of the Lord, have no idea what I’m talking about. I wish you could pass on your politeness to me so that I should never behave badly again.

- AJ

From: Angel_of_EastGate

Re: The Worst Version of Myself

No, I know exactly what you mean, and I’m afraid to say, my friend, that I too suffer the same affliction. It feels so good to snap sometimes. Only after the pleasure of doing so, remorse inevitably follows. I spend all night tossing and turning over what I have said.

- Sincerely, your online correspondent and friend

Crowley sat in the half-dark of his apartment, the only light coming from the glow of his laptop screen. The city hummed outside, low and restless, but the room itself felt too still. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, twitching, uncertain. His gut still twisted over his encounter with Aziraphale just mere hours ago. Crowley had been so sure that if Aziraphale knew who he was, Aziraphale would never in a million years have come up to him, let alone smiled so brightly or chirped at him so happily. Sure enough, Crowley had his suspicions confirmed, for once Aziraphale found out who he was he seemed quite upset with Crowley. Crowley couldn’t exactly blame the man.

Crowley was glad for Angel to reach out to and vent his emotions to. Angel always lent a good ear, was never judgmental.

Uncertain, heart hammering, before he could talk himself out of it, Crowley started typing:

“Would you like to meet up in real life sometime?”

[1] almost golden

Chapter Text

“Meet?” Aziraphale sounded out the word, staring at AJ’s letter on his computer. Aziraphale sat frozen at his desk, no idea what to do, let alone how to respond.

Hastily, rather flustered and overwhelmed, Aziraphale exited out of the window to forget all about it. Aziraphale stood up and stepped away from his computer at his desk, his head awhirl.

Meet…

Aziraphale wanted to, very, very badly. He was halfway in love with AJ already anyway.

/

“He wants to meet me,” Aziraphale blurted out in the shop.

Anathema and Newt were instantly before him, all excitement.

“Are you going to?” Anathema asked breathlessly.

“Of course not! It’d be... creepy, right? He could be a serial killer!”

“Or he could be your true love,” Anathema argued.

“Or both,” Newt mused.

Anathema turned to shoot Newt a stern, firm glare.

“What? Serial killers need love, too.” Newt shrugged.

“Aziraphale, you should go for it.” Anathema turned back to encourage Aziraphale. “You’ve been mooning over this guy for weeks.”

“I don’t know.” Aziraphale rocked back and forth. “Maybe it’s not such a good idea. I mean, there’s a lot happening in my life right now.”

“Like what?” Anathema raised an eyebrow at him.

“Us fighting Eden Books, for example.”

Anathema huffed a heavy sigh. “Aziraphale, please don’t pass this up.”

Aziraphale sighed softly to himself, his insides twisting up in nervous indecision. The prospect of meeting up with AJ in real life felt terrifying.

Later, back in his apartment, Aziraphale typed a response to AJ.

From: Angel_of_EastGate

Re: Meet?

I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to meet. There’s a lot going on in my day-to-day life. I love our relationship. There’s something magical and thrilling about this oasis in cyberspace that we’ve created together. Talking with you is the highlight of my days, partly because you are separate from my real life. I’m afraid, dear friend, even though I’m very flattered that you asked, that I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to meet in real life, at least… not right now.

- Sincerely, your online correspondent and friend

Aziraphale signed off with a sigh, though a little itch of doubt nagged at the back of his brain. His reasons for wanting to avoid meeting AJ in person were sound, and Aziraphale felt that AJ would understand and respect his decision. But some part of Aziraphale wondered if he was once again choosing the safe choice over the brave one.

/

Crowley sighed as he finished reading Angel’s reply to his inquiry about meeting up in real life. He wasn’t sure what exactly he’d been expecting or how he felt in reply. Did he feel disappointment, relief, agreement— Hell if he knew.

The second week of October came, and Eden Books opened for business. There was a dignified ribbon-cutting ceremony, attended by a respectable number of new patrons lined up outside the doors. Inside the store was beautiful: a gleaming staircase, a café, comfortable chairs to sit, enough workers to help and assist every customer, and, of course, books as far as the eye could see. Crowley strolled the main floor unfeeling, no matter the praises his boss bestowed on him for a job well done and a successful opening.

“No picketing, no protests. The neighbourhood loves us.” Hastur declared as they dulled out the celebratory drinks for their successful grand opening.          

“They’re wondering where we’ve been all these years. Wondering how they ever lived without us.” Ligur chuckled.    

“It’s a hit.” Hastur smiled.

Crowley felt none of the pride his coworkers did. 

Chapter Text

It was nearly Halloween, and Aziraphale was putting up decorations for the holiday, hoping it’d help attract customers. Since Eden Books across the corner opened up with their deals and café, far fewer customers had been coming to Aziraphale’s shop to purchase something.

“Their store is new,” Aziraphale spoke aloud to Newt as he stood atop a step stool to string up spooky decorations. “It’s a novelty. But it will all shake out.”

Later that day, after Aziraphale closed the shop, he felt rather put out, his spirits low. He glanced worriedly towards the shiny Eden Books across the street. Aziraphale shook himself, determined not to let the big bad chain store get him down. What he needed was some Halloween chocolate![1]

/

Crowley had been standing not too patiently in a rather long line up at the grocery store, resting his basket of groceries on his arm. Apparently, everyone decided that day, at the exact time, to do their week's worth of shopping.[2] Crowley’s eyes scanned over the crowd of people in the grocery store with a small sigh, only to catch sight of a familiar face and curls of Aziraphale.

Aziraphale was at the lane, appearing quite flustered, face red, holding out cash to the cashier across the checkout, begging, pleading. Crowley quirked his eyebrows, looking up to see the sign about the cash registrar: “Card Only.”

/

“It’s card only.” The cashier repeated.

“Yes, I know that.” Aziraphale clutched his cash in his hand. “I just don’t understand why you can’t accept my cash. It’s still money, and last time I checked, it’s a perfectly valid and acceptable payment method. Please, all I want is to buy a bag of chocolates and go home.”

“You and me both.” The cashier sighed. “Look, I don’t have any change to give you back.”

“Hello.” A familiar voice cut over Aziraphale’s shoulder. Aziraphale turned only to gasp in horror to find Crowley standing there, sunglasses on, wearing an smirk, as if amused by Aziraphale’s plight. “Do you need some money?”                    

“No, no.” Aziraphale shook his head, his flustered blush rising. Oh, why did Crowley have to happen upon him in this predicament? “I have money. I don’t need your money, thank you very much.”                    

“Can we get a move on!” A customer from down Aziraphale’s line called.

“Just accept his cash.” The woman right behind Aziraphale waved her hand in annoyance.

“It’s card only.” The cashier repeated.

“Look, why don’t I pay for your chocolate, Aziraphale. I have a card.” Crowley pulled out a flashy credit card from his tight pants back pocket.

“No, I couldn’t possibly let you do that.” Aziraphale shook his head urgently.

“Honestly, Aziraphale, it’s not a big deal. You can always pay me back.” Crowley was stepping almost forcibly forward then. “Excuse me, miss, do you mind if I pay for my friend’s order here. I have a card, see.”

“Fine.” The cashier huffed.

Crowley flashed that grin of his and swiped his card with a flourish and a beep. “There you are, Aziraphale. Nothing to fret over, see.”

Aziraphale felt so embarrassed as Crowley picked up his bag of chocolates to hand over. “I’ll pay you back, I promise.”

“I’m assured you will. Now, I should pay for my own things. Happy Halloween.” Crowley gave a nod of his head, and with that, he whisked off into the crowd before Aziraphale could even offer a “Happy Halloween” back.                    

~ ~ ~

Fall changed to winter, and soon, Aziraphale was putting up Christmas decorations around his shop. Outside his window, he saw people walking down the street, chatting warmly to each other, carrying Eden Books shopping bags. Aziraphale let out a heavy sigh.

/

From: Angel_of_EastGate

Subject: Christmas

Christmas is such an odd time for me. While I love the holiday’s spirit, it comes with some heavy past baggage. It’s been several years since I cut myself off from my family (or rather, them from me), and while it was the best choice for me, it still hurts to think that I don’t get to share the holiday with a loving family. Alas, I carve out time to make the holiday my own, into something for me to enjoy: Ice skating, watching old classics while drinking hot cocoa with those little marshmallows in it.

I hope you are enjoying the holidays.

- Sincerely, your online correspondent and friend

From: Devilserpent_666

Re: Christmas

Christmas is a hard time for me too, for the same reasons, as you know. But, to be honest, I was never one full of Christmas cheer. It’s more the season itself that gets me all… melancholic. My mother used to take me ice skating. She died when I was ten, and then I had to stay with my father, who is not famous for intimacy. His way of breaking the news of my mother’s death to me was to do so by saying she would not be coming to pick me up as usual. She was very beautiful. People say that a lot about her, my mother.

- AJ

Crowley stopped typing, surprised to find his eyes watering. It was a moment of confusion for him; he could not believe he had moved himself to tears. Crowley shook his head, shaking the emotion off.

From: Angel_of_EastGate

Re: Re: Christmas

Your mother sounds lovely. Cherish those memories.

On another note…are you any good at giving business advice? I could use some right now.

- Sincerely, your online correspondent and friend

Crowley perked up at that. He instantly switched over to Instant Message. He had never used the Instant Message chat function with Angel; they typically stuck with emailing back and forth.

Devilserpent_666: I’m a brilliant businessman. It’s what I do best. What kind of advice do you need? How can I help?

Crowley was, perhaps, a little too eager. Almost instantly, Angel replied.

Angel_of_EastGate: My business is in trouble.

Devilserpent_666: What’s your business?

Angel_of_EastGate: I’m not sure I’m comfortable giving away specifics, considering our prior agreed-upon arrangement.                    

Devilserpent_666: Minus specifics, it’s hard to help. The only thing I could possibly think of that is always applicable is this: “All is fair in love and war.”

Angel_of_EastGate: Are you saying business is war? That’s a bit extreme, isn’t it?

Devilserpent_666: If your business is in trouble, you must fight to save it. Do you love your business? If you do, you’ll fight to save it. If you don’t, you’ve already lost.

Devilserpent_666: You’re at war. It’s not personal, it’s business. Recite that to yourself every time you feel you’re losing your nerve. I know you worry about being brave; this is your chance to be. Fight! Fight to the death!

[1] Yes, that’d pick him right back up!

[2] Just Crowley’s luck.

Chapter Text

“Local, staple corn store and self-owned book shop, A.Z. Books is under threat. If this precious resource is killed by the cold cash cow of Eden Books, it will not only be the end of Western civilization as we know it, but the end of something even dearer: our neighbourhood as we know it. Save A.Z. Books and you will save your own soul." 

Crowley blinked in shock at the article in the local newspaper he picked up from the newsstand while picking up his coffee to head to work.

“Don’t you feel bad about basically destroying this man’s livelihood, not to mention his legacy?” Crowley asked Hastur and Ligur in their offices in the store, holding the paper up.              

“It’s not personal. It’s business.” Hastur hissed.

“Right. Exactly,” Crowley’s gaze fell back down to the paper.

“No one will read that. Paper is dead.”

The next day, Crowley walked to the store to find a group of children marching in front of it, holding little makeshift picket signs and singing: “One, two, three, four, we don’t want this Superstore!”

“Catchy,” Crowley commented. He then noticed a familiar head in the crowd. “Warlock?” Crowley came over, turning the boy by his head round to him.

“Hi, Nanny!” Warlock greeted with a big, missing-tooth grin. “This is Adam and his friends. They’re protesting. They said I could join.”

“Does your father know you're here?” Crowley raised an eyebrow at the young boy.

Warlock shook a timid head.

“I don’t think he'd be very happy if he saw you participating in this.” Crowley looked to the other kids before his eyes flicked back to Warlock.

A smile tugged on Crowley’s lips. “Ah, you know what, have at it. What's the point of childhood if not to piss off your parents? Glad to see you being productive, Warlock.” Crowley tussled the boy’s hair before heading inside.

/

“Not the slightest difference,” Aziraphale huffed to himself. “All this publicity and not one bit of difference? How could that be?” Aziraphale looked solemnly up to Anathema and Newt. “I’m so sorry, you both will have to get new jobs soon, I imagine.”

“Stop it. It’s not your fault,” Anathema came over to comfort Aziraphale. “None of this is your fault. You’re doing your best, we all know that.”

Aziraphale closed his shop early that night to head up to his apartment. He sat by his desk as rain began to streak down the window outside, as if to match Aziraphale’s mood. Aziraphale pulled up his instant message chat with AJ.

Angel_of_EastGate: I need help. Are you still okay with meeting up in person?

AJ’s reply came almost instantly.

Devilserpent_666: I would love to meet as to help you out. Just name where and when

~ ~ ~

“We’re meeting in a public place,” Aziraphale told Anathema and Newt in his shop the next day.

Anathema gasped excitedly. “Where are you going to meet him?”

“That café on 83rd with the cheesecake. I will have with me a yellow flower and a copy of Pride and Prejudice.”

Newt blinked at Aziraphale.

Anathema chuckled, “God, Aziraphale, you really are a hopeless romantic, aren’t you?”

“It's not a date!” Aziraphale insisted. “This is strictly a business meeting. AJ’s going to help me save our business.”

“Right,” Anathema smirked. “So you bringing along a flower and a copy of Pride and Prejudice is just… wishful thinking.”

“So he’ll know who I am, and be able to recognize me. Nothing more. And I won’t have you thinking elsewise, dear girl.” Aziraphale glared firmly at Anathema.

/

Crowley was nearing the café, his anxiety reaching dangerous levels. He could feel his limbs shaking.

“This is just business, strictly business,” Crowley muttered to himself. “I’ll just stay ten minutes. Or long enough to help Angel with their business problem. I’ll order a cup of coffee, nothing more. Then I’ll split outta there.”

Crowley came to a stop before the café. He realized then that if he shared even the tiniest spark with Angel in real life as he did online, that he might just be crazy enough to turn his entire life upside down and ask Angel to marry him on the spot.

Cautiously, Crowley stepped forward, crouching down to scurry into a bush under the café window, hiding in there. He felt a little foolish, but this is what Angel did to him! Crowley slowly, timidly poked his head out of the bush to peer up and over, into the window of the café.

Inside the café was warm with a soft yellow light. Crowley's eyes flicked around searching every table for the flower and book Angel had told him he’d bring so Crowley would be able to recognize him. Then, Crowley saw them. Crowley gasped, standing a bit more upright to try and get a better look, only, there was a waiter in the way.

“Move!” Crowley growled.

The waiter moved away then, and Crowley’s breath left him in a gasp. There, sitting in the shop, was Aziraphale in all his stunning glory. Crowley’s brain struggled to comprehend the connection between the two, Aziraphale, Angel… Angel_of_EastGate was Aziraphale Fell. Aziraphale Fell was Angel_of_EastGate. Angel’s business was A.Z. Books, which Crowley himself had only helped in the demise of. Crowley's stomach sank. Oh, Aziraphale hated him.

/

Aziraphale fought hard to keep himself from fidgeting. He’d only ordered a cup of some tea, waiting for AJ to arrive before ordering himself anything to eat, though his stomach was starting to grumble with hunger. Fifteen minutes of anxious waiting had passed, and Aziraphale was beginning to feel panicky. What if AJ didn’t come? What if he didn’t show? Worse, what if he had already come in, seen Aziraphale and changed his mind? Aziraphale took a deep breath and smoothed his pants. He was fine. AJ was just running a little late. Aziraphale checked his watch; thirty minutes now, to be precise. Aziraphale’s stomach sank, and he began to feel a little foolish.

The door opened, and Aziraphale’s heart leapt into his throat; he craned his neck to stare at the entrance, but he immediately shrank down in his chair when he saw who had entered. It was Crowley. What was Crowley doing here?

Crowley’s head began to turn in Aziraphale’s direction, and Aziraphale scrambled for his book. Aziraphale hoped to bury his face in it and avoid Crowley’s notice. Despite Aziraphale’s best efforts, though, Crowley’s footsteps soon approached his table, and Aziraphale knew he’d been thwarted.

“Aziraphale Fell. What a coincidence. How are you?”

Aziraphale slowly let his book down, forcing a smile up to Crowley, who was dressed nicely like he had been at the matinee, sans sunglasses. “Crowley. I’m fine. Yourself?”

“Rather well.” He nodded. Crowley eyed Aziraphale’s copy of Pride and Prejudice on the table. He picked up the book to inspect it. “Pride and Prejudice.”

“Do you mind?” Aziraphale reached out to take his book back. Once he had it back, he gently placed it back on the table, putting his yellow rose closed, between the pages as if a bookmark.

“I didn’t know you were a Jane Austen fan.” Crowley spoke. “However, I suppose that it shouldn’t be a surprise. I bet you read it every year. I bet you just love Mr. Darcy. That your sentimental heart beats wildly at the thought that he and whatever her name are really, honestly, truly going to end up together.”

 “The heroine of Pride and Prejudice is Elizabeth Bennet, and she’s one of the greatest, most complex characters ever written, not that you would know.” Aziraphale snapped.

Crowley looked up to Aziraphale. “As a matter of fact, I have read it.”

“Well, good for you.” Aziraphale turned away, feigning uninterest, as if he typically wouldn’t jump at the chance to rant passionately about Darcy and Elizabeth.

“I think you’d discover a lot of things if you really knew me.”

“Oh, and what I would find, I imagine, is that you are a cold, heartless, selfish man!” Aziraphale spat, before scrunching his face up for being so rude. “God, why do you rile me up so? Could you just please leave me alone?”

“Well, I’m sorry to have interrupted your dinner. Are you here with someone?” Crowley asked, his eyes dancing up.

“As a matter of fact, I’m meeting someone.” Aziraphale raised his head high. “They should be here… soon.” His head and heart fell a bit.

“Why don’t I keep you company till they arrive then?” Crowley pulled out the chair across from Aziraphale.

Aziraphale’s mouth gaped, aghast and further infuriated with Crowley. “No, you can’t sit there! What would it look like to him if he showed up and found you sitting across from me?”

“Ah, fair point.” Crowley got up and sat in the seat at the table next to Aziraphale, Crowley’s back to Aziraphale’s own.

The door to the restaurant opened again. Aziraphale sat up with a hopeful held breath as a handsome-looking man came walking in. Could it be... was this AJ? But then a woman came up to greet the man with a hug and kiss. Aziraphale’s heart fell, and he pouted sadly back into his chair, feeling rather put out; the wind gone out of his sails.

Crowley leaned back in his chair, looking at Aziraphale. “I’m going to take a wild guess that isn’t him. Who is he, I wonder?”

Fury riled in Aziraphale, really wishing Crowley would just leave him be and stop pestering him so. Would Aziraphale ever be free of him?

Aziraphale turned to Crowley snippily. “The man who’s coming here tonight is completely unlike you. The man who is coming here is kind and funny. He has the most wonderful sense of humour.”

“But he’s not here.” Crowley sucked in a tight breath through his teeth. “Sorry, angel, I think you’ve been stood up.”

More fury rose inside Aziraphale. “If he’s not here, he has a reason! There is not a cruel or careless bone in his body. I can’t expect you to know anything about a person like that. You’re nothing but a horrible, annoying man who seems dead set on making my life a living hell.”

Crowley's features changed then. “Well, if that’s what you really think of me, angel, then I’ll go.” He rose from his chair.

Suddenly, everything Aziraphale had just shot a Crowley came washing over him in a wave of horror, and he hated himself so.

“Good night.” Crowley nodded and turned to leave the café.

Aziraphale’s mouth hung open wordlessly before working his lips softly, head dropping to toy solemnly with his book and flower atop his table.

Aziraphale padded home upon realizing AJ was never going to show. He came up to his apartment, threw his flower in the trash, and dropped the book on the table. Aziraphale slid over to his desk, turning on his computer, hoping for some explanation from AJ. Aziraphale waited impatiently for his computer to connect to the internet. Only when it did, he found no mail in his inbox, and his heart and stomach fell in disappointment. A tear broke free to slide down Aziraphale’s cheek, and he sniffled before wiping his cheek dry.

Solemnly, Aziraphale went up and padded to his room, sniffling, more tears falling from his eyes. Aziraphale plopped down onto his bed, still dressed in the nice suit he’d picked out that day, to curl in on himself, letting himself fall into a good cry.

Chapter Text

“What happened? How did it go last night?” Anathema asked when she and Newt came into Aziraphale’s shop the next morning. Aziraphale was moving about his daily routine as if nothing at all was wrong, determined not to let AJ’s no-show upset him.

“I’m afraid, my dear, that he never came,” Aziraphale told Anathema softly with a solemn smile.

“He stood you up!” Anathema cried. “How dare he!”

“I think something happened, something terrible and unexpected, that made it impossible for him to come. But…What could have happened? Why didn’t he come?” Aziraphale mused quietly to himself. “Maybe he showed up, took one look at me and left.”

 “If he did, then he’s not the right guy for you,” Anathema said fiercely.

“Maybe there was a subway accident. A train was trapped underground with him inside where there’s no service.”

“Absolutely.” Newt and Anathema nodded.

“Or an automobile accident. He did say he likes to drive fast. Oh… oh dear.” Aziraphale fretted. “What if something terrible happened to him. What if he’s in the hospital with a coma?”

“Okay, Aziraphale, let’s dial it back a bit.” Anathema coaxed Aziraphale to take a deep breath, calmly rubbing his arm. “How long did you sit there all alone?”

“Not that long. Crowley came in.”

 “Crowley?” Anathema questioned with a cocked brow.

“He works for Eden Books, and we have an unfortunate habit of bumping into each other. He has a penchant for ruining my day; my life, for matter of fact. I don’t want to talk about it.” Aziraphale closed his eyes tightly, shaking his head. “Let’s get to work.” He forced a smile.

/

From: Angel_of_EastGate

Subject: What Happened?

I have been thinking about you, last night when I went to meet you, and you weren’t there. I wish I knew why. I felt so foolish.

As I waited, someone else showed up, a man who has made it his profession to make my life misery. He always manages to somehow bring out the worst in me, and I’m afraid to say I was quite nasty to him. Of course, afterwards, I felt terrible. I was cruel, and I’m never cruel. He is a horrid person, and I should not care what he felt in regard to my words, for surely, he cares nothing for me. But alas, as the kind of person I am, I felt sorry for the horrid things I said to him, how unkind I was. I worry I hurt him. No matter what he’s done to me, there’s no excuse for my behaviour.

Anyway, my dear friend, it is to say that I hope you had a good reason for not being there last night. Still, if you have second thoughts about us meeting up in real life or never want to try meeting up again, I’d completely understand. It still meant the world to me that you were willing to help me.

- Sincerely, your online correspondent and friend

Crowley sat in his apartment reading Aziraphale’s message to him. Aziraphale was unbelievable, unreal. There was simply no way he could possibly be so apologetic and forgiving to both Crowley in real life and the Crowley (AJ) Aziraphale knew through their online correspondence. Crowley neither deserved Aziraphale’s remorse nor his forgiveness. Crowley stared at his screen and felt as if he were drowning in waves of affection for Aziraphale and disgust for himself.

It was quite nice to be able to match Aziraphale’s exquisitely lovely face to Angel. And despite Aziraphale’s anger and vitriol at the café last night, Crowley had been positively breathless with the effort not to lean across the table and kiss him. Crowley had no choice but to acknowledge that he was in love with Aziraphale. It was almost funny, really, considering that he’d essentially ruined any slight chance he’d had of Aziraphale ever feeling the same way. Despite it all, selfishly, Crowley wasn’t ready to give up his correspondence with Aziraphale. He tried to think of a response that would ensure their correspondence continued and maintain Aziraphale's good opinion of him.

I am in Vancouver. Crowley started to type. He stopped and deleted the message to start typing again.

I was stuck in a meeting, which I couldn’t get out of. The electricity went out in the building, leaving us trapped on the 18th floor. And the telephone system blew, too.

Crowley sat, looking at his message. He grumbled to himself, face twisting up. He deleted the whole thing. Crowley sat, looking at the blank screen, cursor blinking. Slowly, Crowley began to type out a real, proper reply.

From: Devilserpent_666

Re: What Happened?

Dear friend, I cannot tell you what happened to me last night, but I beg you from the bottom of my heart to forgive me. I feel terrible that you found yourself in a situation that caused you additional pain. But I’m absolutely sure that whatever you said last night was provoked, even deserved. Everyone says things they regret when they’re worried or stressed. You were expecting to see someone you trusted, and met the enemy instead. The fault is mine. Someday I’ll explain everything. Meanwhile, I’m still here to offer you help and for you to talk to me, which I hope you will continue to do. Thank you for the goodwill you offer me, which I do not deserve.

- Yours, AJ

/

Aziraphale and Anathema were walking down the street together.

“Did he say anything about meeting again?” Anathema asked.

“No, but it doesn’t matter. We’ll just be like Newt Bernard Shaw and Mrs. Patrick Campbell and write letters our whole lives. It’s fine, really. I’m glad I went to meet him, even if he didn’t show. I felt brave.”

Anathema smiled gently.

Chapter Text

Aziraphale gathered Anathema and Newt before him. “So, I have reviewed things and have come to a final, yet sad decision…” He took in a solemn sigh. “I have decided that I am going to close.”

“Close.” Newt blinked.

Aziraphale nodded, barely holding back sniffles. “I’m afraid you both will have to find new jobs. Oh, I feel like such a failure! It feels like I’m quitting, surrendering defeat to Eden Books.”

Anathema got up to wrap Aziraphale in a hug.

Aziraphale hung up a sign outside a window of his shop. “Closing by the End of the Week: All Stock 40% off.”

People fluttered in and out to offer their condolences over the course of the week.

“This is a tragedy.” Madame Tracy said. “What are you going to do with yourself?”

“I don’t know.” Aziraphale sighed. “Guess I’ll take some time to myself. I have a little money saved. I could go on a trip.” He tried to force a smile.

“We should bomb Eden Books.” Adam Young said with firm anger set on his and his friends' faces.

“It’s not their fault,” Aziraphale said as he wrapped up the kid’s books for them in tissue. “The truth is, the world is just different now. My shop and I have reached the end of our lives. All good things, I’m afraid, my child, must come to an end. It’s just the way of life.”

“Life’s not fair.” Pepper crossed her arms.

“No,” Aziraphale agreed. “No, it certainly is not.”

By the end of the week, Aziraphale closed his shop permanently to the public, turning out the lights in his shop. Aziraphale was solemn that he’d never hear the little bell over the door jingle again or get to read to enthused, enraptured children sitting before him. His whole life was over…what would he do now?

/

From: Angel_of_EastGate

Subject: An End and New Beginnings

I have decided to close my shop; it was inevitable, I’m afraid. It’s a lovely shop, but I shall have to sell the space, I imagine, to something very horrid and depressing, like a Baby Gap. Soon, my shop will just be a memory to the neighbourhood. I am trying to be amazingly brave, despite it all. I have promised myself I’m not going to cry. But the truth is, I’m heartbroken. I feel as if part of me has died.

- Sincerely, your online correspondent and friend

From: Devilserpent_666

Re: An End and New Beginnings

I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say. Truly, I don’t. I hope you feel better. I’m here for you, anything you need. Anything at all.

- AJ

Crowley’s insides burned with angry rage after reading Aziraphale’s message about closing his shop. It was all due to him and stupid Eden Books!

Crowley called up his boss “I can’t do it anymore!” He said over the phone.

“What do you mean?”

“I quit!” Crowley felt ecstatic and hung up laughing. He skipped down the streets of London, filled with new life. He was a free man now!

From: Devilserpent_666

Re: Re: An End and New Beginnings

I quit my job today. I just couldn’t stand it anymore. I dare to say, you inspired me, angel. I’m a free man and it feels wonderous, like I could do anything! Maybe I’ll open a plant shop.

- AJ

From: Angel_of_EastGate

Re: Re: Re: An End and New Beginnings

Wow, I’m not sure how to respond. Congratulations?

I wonder whether change isn’t in the air, like some kind of infection. You start with one thing, something you never thought would change, and it does. Six months ago, when you and I first started chatting, I knew everything about myself and what I would be doing for the rest of my life. Now I feel like I know nothing. I suppose it is rather exciting. To new beginnings!

- Sincerely, your online correspondent and friend

Chapter Text

Aziraphale was in bed with a huge box of tissues as he had come down with a terrible cold. His nose was red, his eyes watery. A quiet ding from his computer was the only thing that roused him from his bed.

From: Devilserpent_666

Subject: How are you?

Haven’t heard from you in a bit. Just wanted to check in and see how you were doing.

- AJ

From: Angel_of_EastGate

Re: How are you?

I could be better; I have a cold. My ears are blocked, my nose is clogged. I keep thinking about my future. What am I going to do?...

- Sincerely, your online correspondent and friend

/

Crowley was at home reading Aziraphale’s reply to his reaching out. Crowley's breath caught after reading that Aziraphale wasn’t feeling well, having come down with a cold. Crowley just could imagine Aziraphale in some manner of cozy apartment, curled up under a knit blanket, running nose, clutching a box of tissues. Oh, it just wouldn’t do.

Crowley flew with a flurry into the plant shop where he had met new trainees, Anathema and Newt the other day when trying to get a job himself. Crowley came out a second later, carrying a bunch of daisies wrapped in paper, having received Aziraphale’s address. Crowley stepped up the stoop to the building to look at the buzzer. He read through the names beside the various rooms till finally: Fell, 3A. Crowley exclaimed with success and rang the buzzer.

“Who is it?” Aziraphale’s voice came through the intercom, clogged and raspy.

“It’s Crowley,” Crowley called back through the intercom while pressing the button down. “May I please come up?”

“What!?… Oh, now’s not the best time. I have a terrible cold. I’m sniffling up a storm and not really awake. I would really appreciate it if you would come back some other time.”

Crowley was only half listening to Aziraphale through the intercom though, as someone came up to the apartment building behind him, pressing a code to open the door and head in. Crowley acted quickly, grabbing the door behind them before it could close, so he could slither in.

/

Aziraphale[1] stood at his intercom beside his door, horrified. Why on earth had Crowley decided to call on him, and why of all times did he have to choose now to do so, when Aziraphale was sick? Crowley really had the worst timing, didn’t he?

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door right next to Aziraphale. Aziraphale practically jumped out of his skin. He looked through his peephole only to see, standing on the other side was Crowley, sunglasses and all.

 “Aziraphale?” Crowley called.

 “Just a second.” Aziraphale gasped sharply, flustered.

Aziraphale hurriedly tossed a robe over him, gathering himself best he could to open the door to Crowley and see what it was he wanted.

Crowley stood on the other side holding a bunch of flowers wrapped in paper. “Hello.” Crowley greeted.

 “What are you doing here?” Aziraphale blinked at him in confusion.

 “I heard you were sick and I was worried and I wanted to—”

“You put me out of business!” Aziraphale cut Crowley off.

 “I’m truly sorry. If it's worth anything, it wasn’t me.”

“I know.” Aziraphale huffed. “It was the company you work for.”

“Worked.”

“Worked?” Aziraphale cocked his head, confused.

“I quit my job.”

“Huh,” Aziraphale blinked. “Everyone's moving on. You, the guy… never mind.” Aziraphale shook his head. “So you come with flowers to offer your sympathies then, in apology for your mistake for working for a heartless company that put me out of business.”

“Something like that.”

“Well, I don’t accept!” Aziraphale stated firmly, crossing his arms around his chest.

“You… don’t accept?” Crowley cocked his head.

Aziraphale grumbled at his words. “Oh, bugger you! No matter what you have done to me, there is no excuse for me to treat you so… so… anything like that. But every time I see you, you turn me into someone I’m not.”

“It's okay. I deserve your vitriol for everything I and the company I worked for did to you.”

Aziraphale sighed solemnly. “Would you like to come in?” He held the door open.

“I would, as a matter of fact.” Crowley smiled, coming in. He closed the door behind him. “You see, I actually brought you flowers because I heard you were sick. I met your friends Newt and Anathema in the flower shop, and they told me you weren’t feeling well.”

“Oh, how are Newt and Anathema?”

“Doing well.” Crowley offered a smile, tipping his sunglasses up off his head. “Why don’t I put these in water for you?” Crowley offered.

The flowers were daisies, Aziraphale’s favourite, and he couldn’t help but melt a little. It was horribly cliché, but everything else aside, a handsome man had shown up at his door with flowers, and he was only human.

Crowley headed for Aziraphale’s kitchen, Aziraphale padding along after, blinking blindly, head foggy with cold medicine. Crowley pulled down a vase atop Aziraphale’s fridge to fill with water. He unwrapped the paper around the flowers, putting them in the vase and setting them there atop Aziraphale’s counter, bringing much-needed cheer and life to Aziraphale’s sickness-filled apartment. Crowley then examined the kettle on the stove.

“Why don’t  I make you some tea.” Crowley offered. “You’re sick. Please, sit down.”

Aziraphale did so, a little woozily. This was easily the strangest thing to happen to Aziraphale in months. Crowley was standing in his kitchen, steeping tea. In Aziraphale’s rather sick and drugged-up state, it was very hard to ignore the fact that Crowley was very attractive.  

“I never apologized to you for the other day, at the café, when I was waiting for him.” Aziraphale began to speak. “I was—”

 “Charming.” Crowley interrupted.

 “I was not charming.” Aziraphale sank into his shoulders. “I was horrible.”

“Well, you looked charming.” Crowley cast a smile back, making Aziraphale flush a little.

The teakettle whistled, and Crowley turned back to take it off the burner. He opened Aziraphale’s cabinet to find the mugs, taking one down to ready the tea inside. 

“If anyone was horrible, it was I,” Crowley spoke as he stirred honey into the tea, as if he knew that was how Aziraphale took his tea when sick.

“Yes, but I have no excuse.”

“Whereas I am a horrible person and have no choice but to be horrible, is that what you’re saying?” Crowley came over with two readied steaming mugs to Aziraphale’s table, placing them down, before sitting across from him.

 “No, I am not saying that.” Aziraphale shook his head violently. “I am horrible for saying such horrible things, even to you.”

“I put you out of business. You’re entitled to hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” Aziraphale offered.

“But you’ll never forgive me. Like Elizabeth.”

“Who?” Aziraphale tilted his head, which was still feeling rather clogged and hazy.

“Elizabeth Bennet from Pride and Prejudice. She was too proud. Or was she too prejudiced and Mr. Darcy too proud? I can never remember.” Crowley shook his head, “It wasn’t personal.”

“It was business.” Aziraphale finished off. He then gave a huff. “I am so sick of that! It was personal to me.”

“I know, I’m sorry. That’s why I also wanted to offer my support to you. I think I could help you get your shop back.”

Aziraphale sniffled, his head too clogged up to fully process Crowley’s words. “What?”

“I know you can never forgive me, so let me help you get your shop back instead. I want to be your friend. I know it’s not possible. But what can I say? Sometimes a person just wants the impossible.”

Aziraphale[2] blinked at Crowley, not sure he was really hearing Crowley say these things. Aziraphale moved to pick up his cup of tea to sip.

 “Could I ask you something?” Crowley spoke up softly then.

“Mm?” Aziraphale raised his head to meet Crowley’s eyes.

“What happened with that guy at the café?”

“Nothing, I’m afraid.” Aziraphale looked away, feeling foolish again.

 “But you’re crazy about him.”

 Aziraphale took a breath, “Yes. I am.”

“Then why don’t you run off with him? What are you waiting for?”

Aziraphale sighed, letting his head fall in embarrassment. “I don’t actually know him.” He muttered into his mug. He rubbed his socked foot against the ground below him. “We only know each other through… oh its so embarrassing…” Then quietly Aziraphale got out, “Email.”

“Ah, You’ve Got Mail.”

“Yes.” Aziraphale looked up almost excitedly.

“I think you should try meeting him again, that is, if you're so crazy about him.” Crowley raised his mug to sip. After he did so, he began to get up out of his seat. “Well, this was lovely, but I’ll leave you to rest up and get better from your cold. I shan’t bother you anymore.”

Aziraphale's mouth worked as he blinked at Crowley standing up. Strangely, Aziraphale didn’t want Crowley to leave.

“Take care.” Crowley nodded politely, moving to the front door of Aziraphale’s apartment.

“Um… Goodbye.” Aziraphale offered awkwardly, his head trailing after Crowley as he moved to the door. “Thanks for the daisies. They're my favourite, you know.”

“I know.” Crowley put his sunglasses back on at the door. “You told me.”

“Had I?” Aziraphale tilted his head. “When?”

Crowley was smirking. “Goodbye, angel. Get some rest.” With that, Crowley let himself out.

Aziraphale slowly raised from the kitchen table with the tea mug in hand, moving to plop down on his couch, pondering over Crowley’s strange and sudden visit. Aziraphale should hate Crowley, and yet he felt himself drawn in intrigue towards him.

Aziraphale thought over Crowley’s words to try meeting up with AJ once more. As Aziraphale began to think, his thoughts suddenly drifted off to AJ. Strangely, he found himself putting Crowley’s face and voice as AJ’s. Aziraphale grumbled to himself, pulling his pillow into his chest. Blasted cold medicine.

[1] in his pyjamas

[2] his head still hazy

Chapter Text

From: Angel_of_EastGate

Subject: Meet?

I’ve been thinking a lot about us this week. I’ve been wondering if you’d like to try meeting up again, as friends, nothing more.

- Sincerely, your online correspondent and friend

From: Devilserpent_666

Re: Meet?

I would love to meet up. Unfortunately, right now isn’t the best time for me. I’m in the middle of a project that needs some tweaking.

- AJ

Aziraphale had decided to go to the nearby café[1]. He was having a rather lovely morning, enjoying his order while sitting by the window in the café, with the sun's warmth seeping upon him.

“Aziraphale.” A familiar voice called, drawing his head up.

There, standing in the café was Crowley, sunglasses on and everything.

“Crowley.” Aziraphale exclaimed.

“We have to stop meeting like this.” Crowley laughed.

“Indeed.” Aziraphale chuckled in reply.

“Could I... join you? Or will I only ruin your brunch?”

Aziraphale mulled it over before a soft smile formed on his lips. “No, not at all. Feel free to join me.” Aziraphale welcomed Crowley.

Crowley placed his order and came back over to sit across from Aziraphale with him at the table.

“I took your advice,” Aziraphale told him.

“Huh?” Crowley looked up at Aziraphale.

“I asked the guy I’m talking to online if he’d like to try meeting up again.”

“Oh, and what did he say?”

“Well, he told me now’s not a really good time for him. He has a project he is working on that needs some… tweaking.”

“Tweaking?” Crowley cocked an eyebrow while raising his coffee to take a sip.

Aziraphale nodded.

“I bet he’s married.”

“No, No.” Aziraphale shook his head firmly. “We met in a 50-and-single online chat group.”

“Yeah, but anyone could easily lie, online.”

“Why would anyone lie about being fifty?”

“Not that, being single. Maybe he used this as a chance to cheat on his spouse.”

“Oh, that’s a horrible thing to say. You are a horrible person, you know that, Crowley.”

Crowley smirked over his cup. “You should know that about me by now, angel.”

“What is that about? Angel. You keep calling me that.”

Crowley shrugged. “Seemed befitting to call you.” He hummed over his drink.

Aziraphale supposed Crowley had a point, everyone was always calling him an angel. He liked sometimes to think of himself as a guardian angel. He liked the image of a warrior angel. That’s why he chose the one with the flaming sword as a handle for himself online.

“He’s got to be hiding something horrible to put off meeting you. Although... maybe...” Crowley shook his head.

“What?” Aziraphale demanded.

“He could be a serial killer.”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale reached over to slap Crowley’s arm.

Crowley smirked wickedly.

“No, he’s absolutely perfect. except…”

“Except what?” Crowley cocked his head.

“The car thing”

“The car thing?” Crowley questioned.

“He told me once he likes to drive fast and I… I can’t handle that sort of thing. It makes me so… nervous. It’s so dangerous, you know.”

Crowley hummed to himself as if he was deep in thought. “So that cinches it, then. You will never be together.”

“Oh, one minor thing is hardly enough to throw him aside completely.”

Crowley cracked a smile at that. “Oh, I’ve been meaning to get back to you about your business.”

“Oh yes, you said you might be able to help me get it back.”

“Yes.”

They chatted over their ordered brunch as Crowley theorized how Aziraphale might be able to win some of a settlement over Eden Book for stealing his slogan of “From A to Z.” They agreed to meet up in a week to go over the finer points of Crowley’s plan to help Aziraphale get back his shop. Aziraphale felt quite excited and hopeful to say the least.

~ ~ ~

The next month, Crowley worked with Aziraphale fighting for a settlement against Eden Books for stealing his slogan.[2] They’d meet up at Aziraphale’s apartment or a café, strengthening their case. But, sometimes, their conversations would linger, trail off. After being hard at work, Crowley would suggest a walk through St. James Park to clear their heads and cool off. Who was Aziraphale to say no? They even went on walks through the market sometimes.

Aziraphale quite enjoyed it. He found himself enjoying Crowley’s conversations, too. Don’t get it wrong, they bickered constantly, but there was never any malice to it. Crowley still managed to bring out the worst in Aziraphale, before Aziraphale realized what he said and apologized. Crowley would just smirk when Aziraphale got snippy, saying he liked it that Aziraphale was a little bit of a bastard. It was surprising how fast they moved from acquaintances to close friends. Somehow, strangely, it felt right. It sometimes felt like Crowley knew Aziraphale; perhaps they knew each other in a past life.

 As Aziraphale was preoccupied with winning his case against Eden Books, he found his conversations with AJ falling to the wayside. He almost felt bad for his attentions turning to Crowley, like he was cheating or something.

Finally, the day of their verdict came, and to Aziraphale’s surprise, he won. Aziraphale was so excited that he jumped up to hug Crowley and almost kissed him. Aziraphale pulled away in alarm, blushing, ducking his head.

 Crowley only laughed, “We won, angel, I dare say that’s a reason to celebrate. Why don’t I take you out to lunch Sunday afternoon?”

[1] Not the one in Eden Books, thank you very much

[2] Crowley employing some rather sly/slick not so legal methods

Chapter Text

From: Devilserpent_666

Re: I won!!

I'm so glad to hear you won the settlement. I know you've been busy working towards this big win. I've been holding off on asking you this until your settlement was done, but it has been something I've thought about for quite some time. I wanted to ask you if you'd still be up for meeting in real life, cause I promise I'll show up this time.

- AJ

From: Angel_of_EastGate

Re: Re: I won!!

Yes, I'd love to meet! When and where?

- Sincerely, your online correspondent and friend

From: Devilserpent_666

Re: Re: Re: I won!!

How about this Saturday, 4 p.m. at St. James Park, if you're available. We can meet by the bench beside the ice-cream vendor before the duck pond, I’m sure you know the one.

- AJ

 Aziraphale felt rather flustered as Saturday approached, dressing in his nicest suit. He didn’t want to reschedule with AJ even though Crowley had already planned on taking him out to lunch that same afternoon.

Aziraphale felt nervous as he sat across from Crowley outside a lovely café in the nice, warm afternoon.

“What's the matter, angel?” Crowley asked, sunglasses shading his eyes from the bright sun.

“I'm meeting him today.”

“Him?” Crowley sat up. “Today? Whoa.”

Aziraphale nodded nervously, wringing his hands. “We’re meeting in St. James Park, right after this, in fact.”

“Huh.” Crowley sat back in his chair. “Maybe I’ve seen him and I don’t even know it.” His face turned then. “It's almost unfair.”

Aziraphale tilted his head to Crowley.

“He waited until you were primed. Until you knew there was no other man you could ever love. Sometimes I wonder...” Crowley trailed off.

 “What?” Aziraphale asked breathlessly.

“It's just…If I hadn’t been Eden Books and you hadn’t been “A to Z” and we’d just, you know… met. I could have asked for your number, and I wouldn’t have waited 24 hours before calling and asking: How about coffee, drinks, dinner, a movie?”

Aziraphale’s breath left him at that. It almost hurt for him to hear it from Crowley with such sincerity, too. “Crowley...”

“But we’d fight too much.” Crowley shook his head. “And I bring out the worst in you.”

“You don't.”

“You bring out the best in me, Aziraphale.” Crowley smiled softly.

Oh, Aziraphale’s heart hurt so.

“If only…” Crowley breathed. “But you should go, I won't hold you from him.”

“I'm sorry, Crowley.” Aziraphale reached out to squeeze Crowley’s hand. “I truly am… maybe if things had been different.”

“Maybe.” Crowley smiled back.

Aziraphale walked to the park, his head spinning from his café lunch with Crowley. Was he crazy, going after some faceless guy from the internet when Crowley had been right in front of him, practically proclaiming that he wanted to be more than friends? But Aziraphale had come too far with AJ to back out on meeting him now. Aziraphale felt he had to meet AJ, to find out once and for all what he looked like in real life, who he was. Aziraphale only hoped that he and Crowley would remain friends. He didn't want to lose their newfound companionship any more than he wanted to lose AJ's.

Aziraphale came toward the entrance to the park. He walked down the path before the duck pond towards the ice cream stand, eyeing the bench. Only, no one was there. Aziraphale walked over to stand by the bench, holding out hope… Aziraphale wrung his hands nervously, praying AJ wouldn't stand him up again, he'd promised, hadn't he? 

Aziraphale looked around, surveying the other people in the park, wondering if one of them could possibly be AJ. Runners passed by along with parents pushing babies in trollies.

Then, down the path, Aziraphale saw Crowley walking towards him. What!?… Why was he here? Why did Crowley follow him? Was he just going to ruin things again? Some fury built up in Aziraphale at the thought. Unless… Aziraphale’s breath caught…maybe…no… it couldn't be…right?

Crowley came to a stop before Aziraphale, his hands in his pocket, sunglasses gone, offering a guilty grin.

“Are you…AJ?” Aziraphale asked nervously with hope.

Crowley nodded slowly. “Anthony James Crowley. That's my full, legal name.”

AJ was Crowley, Crowley was AJ. After all of it, it was Crowley. Months of emailing back and forth. Even when they’d hated each other, it was Crowley. Aziraphale could never have predicted it.

“It was you this whole time! Why did you never say anything!” Aziraphale exclaimed in slight fury.

Crowley’s guilty grin remained.

Aziraphale laughed, on the verge of crying. It was perfect.

“Are you disappointed?” Crowley asked timidly.

“I wouldn’t say disappointed… annoyed at you, but that seems to be a given with us, doesn’t it?”

Crowley flashed a smirk.

“You are an asshole for not telling me the truth sooner.” Aziraphale smacked Crowley’s arm. “How long have you known it was me?”

“That first time we were going to meet up. I saw you in the café and I…I chickened out. I knew you’d hate me because of what I did to you, who I worked for. I'm sorry, Aziraphale, I should have told you sooner.”

“Way sooner,” Aziraphale nodded in agreement. “Why didn’t you?”

Crowley sighed, shifting on his feet. “I had to make sure you didn’t hate me anymore.”

Aziraphale frowned, “I never hated you.”

Crowley raised one eyebrow in a silent, disbelieving question.

“Okay, I wasn’t your biggest fan at the time,” Aziraphale caved. “But I liked AJ! And you are AJ.”

“So you would have happily accepted that I was AJ the first time we met at the café?”

“Fine.” Aziraphale conceded. He took a sigh, then stared up into Crowley's stunning golden eyes. “I'm glad it's you.” He admitted. “I think some part of me hoped it would be you.”

“I’m glad you're glad it was me.” Crowley stepped forward, taking Aziraphale’s hand. “Cause, you see, angel,” Crowley’s free hand came to the bottom of Aziraphale’s chin, holding it up there so Aziraphale’s eyes stayed looking on his. Aziraphale’s breath came from him sharply. “I think I might be madly in love with you.”

Aziraphale’s breath came tumbling out then. “I think I might be too.”

With that, they kissed in an indescribably, overwhelmingly perfect kiss.

~ ~ ~

Three months later, Aziraphale’s décor housed many plants[1], eighties records, and pictures of classic cars.

In Aziraphale’s shop, the bell above the door jingled.

“Aziraphale, your boyfriend’s here!” Anathema called from the front desk.

Aziraphale’s heart did a happy swoon. “One second, Crowley, darling. Let me just grab my coat.”

“It's lovely out there, angel, there's no need,” Crowley called back.

“Oh, alright.” Aziraphale fluttered over to Crowley, greeting him in a kiss. “It is good to see you.”

“You too.” Crowley pecked a quick kiss back.

“You two are disgustingly adorable,” Anathema commented from where she was watching on in amusement, her elbows resting on the front desk, her head in her hands.

“Enjoy your lunch date.” Newt waved enthusiastically.

“Come on.” Crowley pulled Aziraphale out the door, lowering his sunglasses over his eyes.

They went to St. James Park, enjoying the sunshine. Aziraphale couldn’t believe how well things were for him now, that he had a boyfriend who he loved dearly and loved him back, and never wanted to be apart from.

Aziraphale squeezed Crowley’s hand, and Crowley smiled back at him. Once again, Aziraphale found himself immeasurably glad AJ and Crowley had been one in the same.

[1] the most beautiful you'd ever seen