Work Text:
Aziraphale sighed at the knocked over book display. He thought hiring an assistant would help alleviate his workload, not increase it. Still it was only the dear’s first day—and they were so nervous. They’d only recently moved to London to start a new life—the life they wanted…
Aziraphale understood that all too well.
The bell above the door gave a sudden jingle, pulling the bookseller from his thoughts. “Be right with you.”
“I brought you hot cocoa,” the cheery voice called back. “I need a favor.”
Aziraphale chuckled as he turned the corner to find his best friend standing beside the counter with two disposable cups from “Give Me Coffee” in her hands. “A bribe? Really, Detective Constable Device?! What would your department say—”
“I need you to be my boyfriend.”
The bookseller froze, “Pardon, my dear?”
Anathema licked her lips, “I need you to be my boyfriend.”
“That’s what I thought you said.” Aziraphale bit his lip to keep himself from laughing aloud. “My dear girl, I’m flattered but—how do I put this delicately—you aren’t exactly my type. Very much not my type—I’m gay, remember? Also I’m already married.” He wiggled the gold and black twisted band on his hand.
Anathema rolled her eyes and slammed the cups down on the counter. “I know that! I was your best woman, remember?! I meant for the weekend. This weekend. Hence the bri—the hot cocoa. To sweeten the deal.” She crossed her arms against her chest and groaned. “Could you at least pretend to be straight?”
Aziraphale shot her the bitchiest pointed-eyebrow possible. “I don’t think anyone has ever assumed I was straight.”
“What about being bi?”
“You’re bi—why do you need a pretend boyfriend anyways? Couldn’t you have a pretend girlfriend? Hang on, is this a work thing? Undercover—a strike out?”
“Stake out, Azi—and no! Not work related. We have other officers for that. Besides you’d be the last person I’d ask for that. You’d be too dramatic.”
They had met in drama club during secondary school after Anathema’s family moved to England.
Aziraphale sighed, taking hold of the cup marked with his name. “Why don’t you back up and tell me why you are so desperate for a pretend beau for the weekend?”
“My aunt Shax’s wedding,” Anathema made a face as she took a sip from her own cup.
Oh—no wonder she was desperate.
“I thought you weren’t attending—”
“Mamá had to fly back to the States for work and Papá threw out his back again. Neither want Aunt Agnes to go alone.”
“That would be a disaster.”
“It’d be hilarious! But yeah, for the sake of the familia,” Anathema tilted her head back, throwing her arm over her face. “I already asked bunch of my coworkers. And even asked Mrs. Sandwich if she—”
A loud crash exploded from the back office.
Anathema quickly went into work mode, shielding Aziraphale behind her. “What was that? Who’s back there!?”
Aziraphale patted his friend's shoulder. “That’s my new assistant. They’re a bit—clumsy.”
As if on cue, an awkward individual with a mop of dark hair and square glasses rushed into the room. They gave a hapless yet sincere smile. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Eastwise! I was trying to open the new shipment and the next thing I knew—”
But they stopped mid-explanation and stared with a gaping mouth at the two friends.
No—stared specifically at Anathema.
A faint blush kept along their cheeks. They were too far away, but Aziraphale swore their eyes widened and their breath hitched.
The bookseller cleared his throat as he stepped toward his assistant, hoping to revive them from their addled state. “Newt, my dear, I’d like to introduce to my friend Detective—”
The detective constable cut him off as she pushed forward, sticking out her hand with the biggest smile Aziraphale had ever seen. “Device. Anathema Device. Nice to meet you, Newt. How do you feel about weddings?”