𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚜 - 𝚊 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚗 𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗

Part Seven: Where Dawn Sheds Its Light

Part Seven: Where Dawn Sheds Its Light

The two talked through the night, till the first rays of dawn seeped through the old bookshop windows. The early morning light lit up the old bookshop, illuminating every little bit of dust that remained hovering in the still air. Their night (or morning I should say) ended in bubbly laughter and smiles that practically lit up the beautiful bookshop.

As the two talked and caught up Muriel sat cozied up in a big weighted blanket upstairs. She had overheard a large majority of their conversations. Although she didn't pay much mind to what it consisted of aside from the fact the two sounded as though they were getting along far better than they had before.

The energy between the angel and demon had entirely changed. Of course, they had had many smaller disputes in the past, but it only seemed they came back stronger each time, especially now. Crowley was not fully trusting yet per se but he was drowned in hope that things would finally be okay between the two.

He and the other both shared a deeply rooted devotion to making things work out between them, especially after everything that had happened. Call it fate, but the two were like magnets, pulling the two apart would have merely resulted in them snapping back together at some point in their vast existence.

Crowley slowly stretched out his thin, lanky self atop the couch with a yawn before standing up. "Well I suppose I should get going and open up the shop," Crowley hummed, slipping his hands along his rusted ginger waves and pulling them back into a bun.

Aziraphale stood up, brushing off his tan vest with care. The two sobered up, and the various bottles strewn along the counter began to fill back up as though they had never been open to begin with. Crowley tossed on his coat, slipped on his shoes, and walked to the door. His hand rested softly on the handle before he turned back to face the angel.

"What about dinner? tonight?" Crowley questioned, his vibrant eyes flicking up to Aziraphale.

"How does 6 o'clock work?" Aziraphale hummed happily, his distinct cheeks nudging up against the corners of his eyes leaving destructive creases that traced the edges of his deep blue eyes.

"I'll see you then," Crowley hissed with a grin. He slipped on his black glasses and walked out; the old bell on the door ringing behind him as it shut.

After Crowley had left warmth built up in Aziraphale's cheeks as he happily played with his hands. "I will see you then," he said to himself, rocking his feet cheerfully. 

"I suppose I should get my day started as well," Aziraphale hummed to himself as he stood up straight and flipped the sign on the door. As Aziraphale did so the dashing, black Bentley sped off; its tires squealing helplessly against the rough pavement as it left. Aziraphale's eyes followed the car before he scurried back in.

Aziraphale ambled to one of his shelves in the back and flipped through his array of records. His fingers eventually landed on one, pulling it out from the shelf. He slipped out the vinyl. his fingertips lightly pressed against its edges. The angel placed the record down on the turntable and flipped it on. As the record began to spin he slowly let down the needle.

A bust of elegant music filled the atmosphere as Aziraphale sat himself down at his desk, opening a small leather book. He reached into one of the elegantly carved drawers pulling out a small ink bottle he had tucked away from his last entry. He dipped a slim fountain pen into the ink before beginning to write.

Muriel scurried down the steps, a prominent smile on her face and a big, fluffy mess of dark hair atop her head. Behind her flowed a soft, tartan, blanket. It rested over her shoulders, its corners, clutched within her almond-tinted palms, dressing her in what acted like a cape.