Decent Omens

Drunk & Disorderly

    Crowley burst through the doors of the all too familiar bookshop with a slam, two bottles of fine, red wine in hand.

  "Hey, Aziraphale!"

    A short, blonde man popped his head out from the backroom and stepped into the front of the store, closing the doors in a swift motion; A pleased smile painted on his face.

    "Ah, Cowley! Come sit in the back."

   He gestured to the room he had just exited and turned to his doors once more, flipping the small sign on the door to read closed. He then followed his demonic companion to the back of the quaint book store. Crowley made himself as comfortable on the old tartan couch as Aziraphale miracled two wine glasses, placing them gently on the weathered coffee table. 

    "So, business booming?" Crowley teased. He knew it wasn't. He knew it was highly likely that not even a single book had left the shop in a month, if ever.

    "No, still as quiet as ever. Quite the accomplishment if you ask me. So many pesky customers coming in here, trying to take my books. You'd think they'd all learn by now." Aziraphale seemed rather pleased by the fact that he had managed to ward off the day's "disturbances".

    "Oh yes, that's right! That would mean you'd actually have to sell something." Crowley decided to push further. He didn't get the joke. Figures.

   "You would ask me to sell my books?!" The angel looked horrified at the notion. Crowley began pouring the wine and picked up his glass. Torturing an angel. Surely this should go in the reports. Maybe he'd even get a small comen- Oh, right. He didn't report anymore.

    " No, no. You're right. Actually selling books? In a bookshop? what was I thinking?" Crowley took a sip from his glass, thoroughly pleased with his jest. The realization hit Aziraphale like a brick. Crowley had been pulling his chain. His cheeks flushed as he remembered how he had essentially allowed Crowley to win their conversation. Crowley smirked. Damn him and his clever tongue.

   The angel snatched his glass, giving Crowley the best death glare he could ~(Which, let's just admit, is him looking at him with his brows slightly furrowed.)~ and poured himself some wine. Once his glass was full he hastily took a large swig of the fermented beverage, emptying his glass. Refilling his glass, he sat in an armchair across from the other man. To change the subject, Aziraphale spoke, breaking their awkward silence. weird.

   "What is the occasion dear? You don't often provide the wine." He stirred the wine in his cup before once more drinking from it, pacing himself this time.

    "We just saved the world angel. Is that not reason enough for a spot of wine?" In truth, it had been entirely to see the angel again. After the events two weeks past, Crowley didn't like the idea of Aziraphale in the bookshop alone. He called nearly every day. In the back of his mind, Crowley noted the speed Aziraphale had been drinking. Crowley was still nursing his first glass whereas Aziraphale had already cleared one and a half. 

    "I suppose it is." Aziraphale continued to drink and refill his wine when needed ~( B/c I'm lazy and I don't want to write in every time he refills hi "glass"... I JUST WANT TO SAY CUP!!!)~ It had been the first time the pair had met up since their post-trial Ritz lunch. While it had been lovely, it somehow seemed to change the dynamic of their relationship. Aziraphale had loved Crowley for as long he could remember but he understood that demons could never experience love. He knew the only way they could see each other was if Aziraphale swallowed his feelings and stayed friends. After all, a life filled with the demon's friendship was better than a life without him entirely... Wasn't it? However, since that night everything seemed to have shifted. It felt as though they couldn't be in the same room without a thick fog of awkward silence surrounding them. Not that they had even been in the same room in two weeks but based on the proceedings of the night so far, this theory was true.