Conned Love

Chapter II. Pasta

For Crowley it didn't look like house. It was clearly a bookshop. It even had a big A.Z. Fell & Co. Bookshop. He had heard of this exact bookshop. It was THE bookshop. His employees at the Union told him the owner opened at erratic hours and that he once turned his open sign to closed while keeping eye contact with a potential client.

For the professional thief it was a miracle sent by heaven. Or hell. There was a specific book in here he desired more than anything in the world. The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter. The holy grail of prophecies books.

What were the odds. His new personal Maecenas. His patron was the owner of the book he lusted for.

At the moment Crowley set a foot inside the bookshop the smell gave him goose bumps. The whole place did. It could easily have a creepy aura but Zira's presence enlightened the whole room and it made him feel happy, almost in heaven.

It smelled like old books, a hint of dust and hot coco. It smelled like cinnamon and something else he couldn't put a finger on.

Without delay, Zira took his guest to his favourite chair in the living room, sat him down and put a blanket on his knees while chatting nonsense about books.

Fell stepped back and looked at him with something Crowley didn't want to acknowledge but it made him feel... Things.

-This is my favourite spot in the house. It's between the warmth of the fire home and the draught of the main window. Do you feel it? –His hand fell on his could shoulder and Crowley, once more, shuddered.

-Oh yes. Very nice.

His light sarcasm floated in the air, unknown to the host. Silence fell between them again so Zira broke it with a hawk.

-Would you fancy a cuppa? I have a fantastic jasmine tea I've kept unused for a while.

-I'd love to but I do not want to be a burden, good angel.

-You have nothing to worry about. This is now your home too and you will never be a burden.

Crowley was looking straight ahead so he didn't see Zira but he clearly felt the smile creeping in his voice as he talked and left to the kitchen, behind a floor to ceiling column of books.

The invited man lifted his sunglasses and looked around. His yellow-ish brown eyes observed what surrounded him, trying to find the book he craved for, sadly it wasn't anywhere near to see.

The armchair was comfortable, the kind of expensive that hugs you deliciously. The blanket given was surely cashmere. It WAS cashmere.

Is this bloke rich? Who is this?

The next thing he heard was a loud curse and hurried steps coming to him. Stepping back into his charade he sat still with his sunglasses on.

-Sorry for taking so long, here –said the man to the redhead sitting on his armchair as he put a cup of warm tea on his hands. It was a nice change of temperature and made Crowley shiver lightly. –Like I said before, Anthony, my house, my home is yours too as long as you want to stay.

Zira's hands lingered longer on Crowley's than a regular stranger to stranger kind of touch, making him shiver even more. His wasn't uncomfortable. His hands were fleshy, silky and warm against his frozen, thin hands.

Crowley managed to put a faint smile on his face to reassure the kindness of this man. He didn't even know him and yet he offered Crowley his place to stay.

-I hope you don't mind if I stay just for tonight. I wish you no burden –said Crowley in the fakest way he could.

Fell looked at him and smiled back fondly, clearly the sarcasm in Crowley's voice passed high over his head.

-Of course not, my dear. Is there anything else you wish for now? Are you hungry? Cold? Tired? –the eyes of this round man were burning his skin and tentacles of dark sticky guilt moved in his stomach.

-No, not at all. I'm perfectly fine now. Thank you... -As Crowley tried to brush his offers off, his stomach growled like the unfed beast it was. The heat climbed up Crowley's neck and into his face but a bell-like laugh broke his embarrassment.

-I mean it when I said my home is yours too, Anthony. Come with me, please –the blond man grabbed his hand off the beggar's lap and with a soft tug asked him to stand up. Without leaving his cup, Crowley stood up and followed Zira to the back store, amazed how this man didn't seem to fear him.

Step by step, Zira guided him into the kitchen and sat him down. He then proceeded to turn on the stove, take pans and food out of the fridge and out of the cupboards. In no time, there was a delicious smell of garlic, cheese, and then a big bowl of cheesy Alfredo pasta was on his hands and in front of him, the blond man with round face.

Guilty. You're onzzzzce more manipulating people for your own benefit. Zzzzscum. Didn't you have enough with having zzzsomeone killed?

The room started spinning, his head pounded but it was manageable. A deafening buzz in his ears and bile shoot up his throat. And it all stopped as it began. With a pressure on his arm and a pair of blue eyes, grounding him.

-Anthony? Anthony! Are you okay?

Zzzscum

Tiny black dots danced in front of his eyes as he tried to hold onto those ocean eyes but the buzzing hit him in the guts and his body hit the floor. Everything went pitch dark as he sank unconscious.