What It Seems - Ineffable Husbands Pen Pal AU

Chapter 1

Crowley seemed to be a simple man. He sat at his computer all day, ticking away story after story. At night, he met with his friends, publishers, editors, and the like. He traveled often, he slept and then woke up to do it all again. He had one small thing that he kept very secret though. A pen-pal, miles and miles away. Though Crowley's address changed and changed through the years, A's never changed, belonging to a small bookshop in Soho. A.Z. Fell and Co. They had made a rule to not ask to meet, and to just let it happen naturally. The invention of Google made it too easy for A to find out minimum. Though, when Crowley's profession had gained a bit of traction, he received a letter asking why on Earth his book had been published under the God awful name of Antony.
The two had met through a trite high school assignment where you had to pick a pen pal based only on their self listed qualities. Crowley had forgotten to choose, so he was assigned the only one left. He wrote a very careless letter, to some dope in London he hadn't really cared about. The response from said dope was insanely gorgeous. He had used his own personal stationary, which he bragged about, and his own handmade parchment. A expressed his love for books, and how his adopted family stayed in the upstairs apartment of a bookstore. He confessed that he dreamed of being a writer, but he wasn't very good at story-building, or anything one needed to write a good book. Crowley was astounded that his dry and boring letter had initiated such a response from the boy. A had included a photo of himself holding an open book to his chest and smiling. On the back, he had written the words "A very unflattering photo of myself! Just dreadfully plump, wouldn't you agree? Mother insisted I include it." In his response, Crowley drew this photo on the corner of the paper and teased him with the caption "a dreadfully plump boy".
Somewhere along the months it took to graduate, he became a writer. A always received the very first editions of his novels and short stories. His most renowned being the fantasy novel he never intended to publish. It was the shame of his career. There were always things that, as a writer, one never shared with the public. Although with A, how could he refuse? He'd sent the strange concept as a P.S. in his letter and A loved it to pieces. He begged Crowley to write it, and once it was written, he also begged him to send it into the open.
Published May 31st, 2019, the novel "Heaven, Hell, and the In-between" had taken Europe by storm. It sold 7,142 copies in the week, which was thousands more than he had hoped to sell. The novel had been on shelves for nearly 8 months now and the book was still flying off the shelves. He had done book tour after book tour, and was sick of it. He had one final place to visit before he was finished, and he couldn't bare to think of it. Soho. Inside of A.Z. Fell and Co. would be Crowley. He would actually see it from inside after all these years. He'd only had a two weeks warning beforehand, so he had no time to explain all of it to A. He reckoned he'd just fake out last minute. Crowley begged his manager, to change its location to any other place in Soho, but was vehemently denied. And alas, here he was, stood outside the bookshop.
His heart beat through his chest. That morning, he spent hours debating what to wear. Crowley decided on his black suit, red scarf, and sunglasses. On the steps he debated whether or not it made him look like a sad old man. Not wanting to meet him in a crowd of strangers, Crowley took a flight a day before the hubbub began. Had A any clue of what he looked like now? Certainly his face must have shown up somewhere or another. As he entered the shop, he wondered if A looked as beautiful as the first and only photo he'd ever seen of the man. It sat, burning a hole in his wallet. His eyes took it all in, recounting every tale of an angry customer, lost child, and late night teen shenanigans that he'd been told about. It had all happened here. A's childhood years were spent just a floor above. A wrote nearly all of his letters to Crowley sitting at the desk in the nook, at the front counter of the store, or on the front steps late at night while trying to catch a breath of fresh air. Before his heart could catch up to his thoughts, A's voice rang out from the back. "I'll be out in just a moment! You've caught me in the middle of writing."
Crowley's heart melted then and there. His voice was just as warm and gorgeous as he dreamed, and he imagined for a moment, that voice calling his name so lovingly and heartfelt." Sorry for the inconvenience, how may I help you tod-"
A stopped dead in his tracks. He dropped the books he'd been holding and sat with his mouth wide open.
Crowley couldn't think of what to say to him, so many years of not knowing how he'd changed in appearance, or how he even sounded. He could barely speak. His voice came out in a near whisper." I took a plane. Figured that I would see you alone before the book signing." His sunglasses slipped down his nose a bit as he looked down to meet A's gaze." Um, its ah... By the way, it's Crowley. Not Antony. Just in case you were wondering." Through another frightfully long bit of silence, Crowley had yet to even take in the full view of A. His hair was just as snow white as the photo, though a bit thinner. His face was riddled with little tiny soft wrinkles and his eyes were the same beautiful blue he had remembered. Though the smile was different. In this moment, it was non-existent.
"How dare you! I'm not even dressed appropriately to meet you! Here you are in a cute little suit and I'm in my near night clothes! I had this whole ensemble planned to match my eyes, and your hair! What happened to your long hair! Oh goodness no, this isn't how any of this was supposed to go! Wait, close your eyes, stay here, don't even BREATHE!" Before he could stop A, he rushed behind the curtain to change. It all happened in such a whirlwind that he barely had any time to detest. So Crowley closed his eyes, stayed there, and didn't even breathe. His mind raced. A knew he was coming to the bookshop, and had planned to look cute and dress up for him. He still thought Crowley had his long hair from the 90's. Where had he even seen Crowley with long hair? Before he could ponder the issue any longer, the curtain flew open once again. The sound of shoes against old wood flooring padded closer to him. He felt gentle hands cup his jaw. One moved to remove Crowley's sunglasses, the other still caressing his face." You can open now."