Chapter Text
Crowley sauntered into the bookshop, slamming the door behind him.
He’d said he wasn’t going to do this, wasn’t going to return to the bookshop so long as Aziraphale wasn’t there, but it had been three whole days since the Angel had switched from ‘their side’ to ‘his side’, and Crowley was missing him desperately. Not that he’d ever admit it.
That, and the Bentley was being very uncooperative right now.
Despite Shax returning his flat to him, he couldn’t get comfortable there. Memories of Armageddon tormented him by day, while recollections of his Fall plagued him by night. At least in the Bentley, he was so uncomfortable that sleep was fleeting and feverish; He rarely slept long enough to dream anymore.
Which was why he slept in the Bentley.
Which, subsequently, was the reason the Bentley was being uncooperative.
“Mr Crowley! Hi!”
Crowley groaned inwardly at the over-eager chipper voice that came from behind the bookshelves. If he’d looked up, he’d have seen Muriel’s head poking out, beaming at him.
“It’s just Crowley, Muriel.” He muttered, striding across the bookshop to Aziraphale’s armchair, or was it Muriel’s now? They owned the place now, after all…
Bloody Metatron.
Crowley slumped down in the chair as Muriel practically skipped into view, their smile so bright it almost matched Aziraphale’s.
Almost.
“How can I help you?” Muriel asked, stopping in front of him and leaning back on their heels, hands clasped behind their back. They were the absolute image of obedience, reminding Crowley once again of a certain someone. They hadn’t asked him what he was doing there, nor tried to send him away, or stop him from entering. Despite owning the bookshop, Muriel had allowed Crowley to enter and do whatever he damn well pleased.
Heaven, they’d probably let him walk all over them and still offer their services, and he knew the fuckers upstairs were the reason why.
“Fucking Heaven.” Crowley grumbled, sprawling out. “The toxic fuckers.”
“What was that?”
“Heaven. Being assholes. All you good Angels are so… stiff and loyal. Wasted up there. They’re corrupt and abusive. Aziraphale was just like you.”
“You think I’m a good Angel?” Muriel beamed brighter. “Like Mr Aziraphale?”
“Well… you’re certainly a better Angel than you are an Inspector Constable.” Crowley responded, hoping it was insulting enough to not be ‘kind’, as Aziraphale called him.
It had the opposite effect.
“Oh! Thank you!” Muriel practically squeaked. “Oh! Sorry! How can I help you?”
“I just…” Crowley paused. What did he want? Why was he here? He very well wasn’t going to confess to Muriel of all people- Angels- that he missed Aziraphale. “I thought I could cause some hell in here, to keep up my demon status. Rearrange a few books, sell a single book from each collection, that sort of thing.”
“Oh! Well, Mr Aziraphale would be very upset if you sold a book.”
‘That’s the point…’ Crowley thought.
“He said not to let a single book leave the shop, except the ones I’m reading. I’m reading a few now actually, they’re very interesting! But you can rearrange the books if you want to!” Muriel lit up at the idea. “Oh! And maybe you could hide the books instead of selling them?”
Crowley couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips.
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah! They’re not leaving the shop if you’re hiding them here!”
“You’re absolutely right.” Crowley agreed. “Cuppa tea, Inspector Constable?”
“Oh, yes please! I want to try drinking it this time! Is that okay?” Muriel asked as Crowley stood, before following him to the kitchen, hands still clasped behind their back.
“Listen, anything you wanna do, just do it, okay? Fuck Heaven.” Crowley scowled. “They can’t make you do anything, not if you don’t want them to.”
“Oh, they don’t make me do anything!” Muriel half-giggled, watching carefully as Crowley gathered the things needed to make a cuppa tea. “They don’t even talk to me! In fact, the whole thing with Gabriel was the first time I’ve ever spoken to another Angel in 300 years!”
“What?” Crowley blinked. “You mean they just… don’t talk to you?”
“Nope. I’m the lowest ranking Angel there is, so I’m not important enough to talk to! Sometimes they want a document or for something to be written down every few hundred years.” Muriel chirped. “It’s really scary when they do talk to me but also really exciting? And now I get to talk to you too! Oh, and the humans!”
Ah, yes… Muriel had said something like that in Heaven, hadn’t they? Not that Crowley had been listening… Had they been serious?
“You haven’t spoken to anything in 300 years until Gabriel disappeared?” Crowley asked again, unsure if he was understanding correctly, because if he was, then how fucking dare they ?
“Nope!”
Crowley’s anger was enough to boil the kettle, but he used a miracle anyway.
He wasn’t just angry at Heaven, no. He was pissed, but he was also angry that Muriel seemed completely oblivious to the abuse, neglect and corruption that Heaven had put them through. He wasn’t about to explain that to them, though. The Angel seemed happy enough, and he wasn’t about to introduce them to trauma and depression.
“You can talk to me anytime. Can’t guarantee I’ll listen.” He offered instead, pouring the boiling water into two cups with tea bags in.
“Oh, thank you! I’ll try to be good at it. I’ve been told I’m very boring.” Muriel laughed nervously. Crowley forced a smile, and repeated the fist-bump on their shoulder that he’d done in Heaven.
“If you were boring, I’d be long gone by now.” He winced, realizing he hadn’t been at all rude or insulting. He quickly picked up a tea cup and changed topics. “One cuppa tea.” He offered it to Muriel, who beamed.
“Thank you!” They froze, staring at the cup as Crowley picked up his own. “Um… Sorry… H-how do I-?”
“Ah. Yes. First, take your cup by the handle. And stick out your pinky.” Crowley knew the pinky wasn’t needed, not often done anymore, but he couldn’t help but mess with the Angel a little. That, and it just seemed right. Muriel frowned in concentration, wrapping their fingers around the handle of the tea cup and extending their pinky.
And then promptly blinded Crowley with their delighted grin.
“Yes, yes, very good.” Crowley rolled his eyes. “Now bring it to your lips, but blow on it first.”
“Oh, why?” Muriel asked before blowing into the cup.
“It’s hot. Don’t want to burn your tongue.” Crowley explained, bringing his drink to sip. He had, however, forgotten to blow on the beverage to cool it, and promptly burnt his tongue.
“Ah, fuck!” The demon hissed, almost dropping the cup. He quickly turned and slammed it down on the counter, muttering a string of ‘fuck, fuck, fuck!’ as he did.
“Fuck!”
“Ngk-!” Suddenly, Crowley’s tongue was cured and the only thing that mattered was the tiny Angel behind him who’d just set their own cup down loudly onto the counter. He spun on his heel and turned to face them.
They were beaming.
“What… did you just say?” He dared to ask.
“Oh! I said fuck!”
“No!” Crowley cried. “No! You can’t say that word!”
“Why not? You say it.”
“It’s- I… It’s…!” Crowley grasped for an excuse but found none. He wasn’t even sure why he was upset that they’d used the word. It was just a word. One that shouldn’t ever leave Muriel’s mouth, for some reason. “It’s a bad word! You can’t say it!”
“Why can you say it then?” Muriel tilted their head curiously, and Crowley groaned.
“Because I’m bad! I can say bad words! You can’t!”
“I don’t think you’re bad, Mr Crowley.”
Hell, there was that fucking smile again.
“Of course you don’t…” Crowley sighed, rubbing his forehead. “It is a bad word, you’re not allowed to say it. Okay?”
“Okay. What else can’t I say?”
“I’m not going to give you a list of bad words! Just- Drink your damn tea! And blow on it first!”
“Okay!” Muriel picked up the cup and tried again, and to Crowley’s relief, they didn’t repeat the curse word.
‘Good.’ Crowley thought.
“Oh! I don’t like it.” Muriel exclaimed in delight. “That’s truly disgusting!”
“You-” Crowley watched in disbelief as Muriel proceeded to drink the whole cup, before placing it down on the counter. “Why did you drink it if you didn’t like it?”
“So I could drink a cuppa tea.”
“Usually, if Humans don’t like a drink, they dont drink it.”
“Oh. Should I put it back?”
“No! No. Keep it in your system, it’s fine.” Crowley wasn’t about to explain how to remove substances from the corporeal form. “But… maybe we should find something you do like? Maybe a hot chocolate is more your style?” He suggested with a raised eyebrow. Muriel’s face lit up again.
“Oh, yes, please!”
Crowley nodded and forced a smile.
What the hell had he gotten himself into with this Angel?