(Request from Liasstar123 I hope it's ok! I really tried my best. This story have two chapters)
As always, Crowley entered the dusty bookshop without even noticing the customers who were looking at the first editions on the shelves in a spellbound way and headed to the back of the shop, where he knew he would find his angel. What made him squeeze his stomach was the sound of a nasty, sensual laugh that came from the closet. He almost walked in through the small door and stared at the two men sitting on the small couch in the corner. Aziraphale held one of his dusty books in his hands as if it were made of gold. Next to him, a man in a suit and tie with a beautiful appearance sat relaxed. Or at least he was until a few seconds before. Now both occupants of the room were staring at him, the first to recover was the angel "Crowley dear" smiled happy, "come and see, is a first edition of Romeo and Juliet, is not it wonderful?" he said stretching it towards him. The demon rests without taking his eyes off the human on the couch. And you... who the fuck are you?" he asked in no uncertain terms. The air of threat was shining through his body and he was immediately warned by the man. "Um... I'm just a dealer of antiques... here I am, Mr. Aziraphale is passionate about books so... I'm well... I thought that..." Crowley slowly took off his glasses and stared at the man, "Maybe you shouldn't think, if that's the result."
Now the poor dealer was certain, if he had stayed in that room he would have come to a really bad end. He got up quickly from the couch, visibly pale, "Well it's time for me to go back to the office, my colleagues are waiting for me". That wasn't true, he didn't have any colleagues but in that case it seemed really useful to him to pretend that someone knew where to find him. The antiques dealer knew what a dangerous man looked like, he had been in some bad business, and now the man in front of him was definitely one of them. A few moments later he had already disappeared.
"What were you doing with him?" asked the hissing demon. "O dear, you don't have to worry about me all the time, he was just trying to sell me a book" Aziraphale said quietly. "He could have been an envoy of your little friends up there," he said, pointing upwards, in response his companion made a slight giggle. "O my dear boy... He was a simple human" said the angel, passing a hand through the hair of the demon who was now sitting on the couch, and claiming it. Crowley smiled at that contact in ecstasy but few second later remembered the man, and he felt it. He felt jealous. That annoying feeling was born within him without warning so without leaving room for other thoughts or actions that were not under his command. That jealousy that invaded everything about him. Once again he found himself repressing that feeling, trying to breathe deeply to regain possession of his actions.
He stood up and put his glasses back on, followed the angel to the bookstore, and then put himself in a corner in the shadows. He watched the angel move with grace and was enchanted by it. He had realized it centuries before what he felt for him and had hated him for it. How could it be? How did it happen? To feel such a feeling for an angel was a misfortune. It was a horrible thing, it terrified him and, above all, it was unattainable. He had spent centuries running away from the love he felt. There had been centuries when he had tried to keep his distance, but even if they were not physically close in his thoughts Aziraphale was always present. He loved it even though for centuries he had tried to kill that feeling, now he found himself enjoying every smile, every contact, every moment they spent together. He watched some customers approach Aziraphale with books only to then put everything back in its place and go out with a confused air, sometimes wondering why they had entered. It was the usual trick the angel used to keep her books. Closing time arrived and they were finally left alone.
The demon looked carefully at the angel as he neatly placed the volumes on the shelves. An obscenely terrifying thought invaded his mind. Now that the apocalypse was over, they were not part of any of the factions, even though he was still a demon he was no longer completely a slave to hell and so the same had to apply to the angel. They could have a chance. Yes, they could. He smiled like he hadn't had in a long time. Now he felt good. Now he just had to make that angel his own.
He slowly approached the angel's shoulders, without making a sound, until his face was close to Aziraphale's ear. "Angel..." whispered in the most seductive way he could, and it worked damn well. The angel whispered and blushed violently, which worsened when he turned and found the face of the demon a few inches from his own. "Yes?" he replied gutting, as his hands trembled, "Are you coming to dinner with me? Riz?" added the demon smiling with kindness. The angel could only nod as he took the hand that Crowley offered him. The demon felt the shock spread from their fingers and sighed. He wanted this, he wanted that feeling every moment. He wanted it at all costs and he would take it. That evening the dinner was magnificent and they both returned home happy. The atmosphere was ruined for few minutes when a new waiter approced Aziraphale in a too smiling and winking way. The young man also dare to left a little peace of paper whit is number to the surprised angel.
Once home the angel read as the demon prepared to go out once more. There was a certain waiter at Riz who needed a lesson, so he would lost the bad habit of trying with his angel and he couldn't wait to fix it. The next morning a couple coming back from a long night of festivities woke up one of London's neighborhoods with their screams. They had found a boy beaten up in blood who barely breathed.
The days went by, and Aziraphale noticed that Crowely spent much more time in the bookshope with him, now dinners at the Riz were regular and the demon did not spare himself trying to tempt the angel. Not that the celestial was sorry, he loved to spend more time with the demon only that every now and then he noticed a few small gestures of jealousy that was sometimes exaggerated. As punctually as a clock at the opening of the shop, the demon was at the entrance with the usual bottle of wine in his hands and a big smile every day. They stayed together all day and at night the demon disappeared. He never said where he was going at night if he went back to his apartment or if he went to score some temptation, but the angel was fine with it, he knew he didn't have to worry. The problem was that lately London was becoming a little more dangerous. There had been disappearances and beatings. The responsible criminal had never been seen or found.
"Good morning Crowley slept well?" said the friendly bookseller as always, "I slept like a child" smiled the demon who, without too many compliments, sat inside. The first day that that strange routine had begun, he had moved some shelves and brought a new armchair that now saw him every day for hours and hours. Before entering Aziraphale looked worried across the street. Where the old cafeteria used to be, they were now setting up a new signage. That was where a temporary base of an agency would be born, trying to build a new shopping centre in that district. Nobody liked it and the entrepreneurs were going door to door to force, even with illegal means, the small shops to close. That day it was the turn of the bookshop. Shortly after the opening hours, a few men appeared and went towards Aziraphale "Hello we would like to buy your business ...". They began the conversation without a greeting or a presentation by inserting here and there some veiled threats and then proposing a large sum to buy everything. The angel didn't even get a little worked up, I listened to everything and with a smile simply said "No thanks. I'm sorry but I'm not interested" the man grunted and left accompanied by the others without adding anything. The day passed quietly without anything happening. It was what happened at night that was the problem.
Crowley got the call in the middle of the night, it was Aziraphale and he was desperate. The demon didn't even take five minutes to get in front of the bookstore. The exterior was a disaster, the windows were broken and fresh paint dripped from the walls onto the asphalt. Inside, the show was even worse. Immersed in the fragments of his books was his angel in tears. The bookcase was destroyed, pieces of shelves and books covered the entire floor forming a single cluster joined by the paint that stained everything. The demon didn't care about the books, what he cared about were the marks on the angel's face. They had beaten him up and of course, he hadn't lifted a finger. Crowley held the angel tight until the hiccups calmed down. "Crowley, it was them! Those mans who came today. Why?" whispered the poor bookcase as the last tears fell down his cheeks.
