oldbookshop | INBOX | LONGESTNIGHT

[It's always nice when Aziraphale understands what's being said without it needing to be said. He could have just asked him to drop the subject, but that would've meant admitting that it bothered him, which is another kind of vulnerable altogether, and it's so much easier when they can just naturally move on.

The mention of thimbles makes him think of Wendy and Peter, but he shoves that silly thought right down.]

You know they make them out of silicone these days, no more intricate little gold designs.

[Time to upset Aziraphale on purpose.

It's a wonderful day at the North Pole and you are a horrible demon.]

They what?

[ Critical hit. Nothing is sacred anymore. He can't believe he has to struggle like this. ]

Noooooo, the traditional ones are so lovely, why would they do that?

[If life were a video game, Crowley would have a little running count of all the times he manages to get Aziraphale all flustered about something unimportant.]

Better flexibility, I suppose. The metal ones do make life a bit difficult.

[Look, he presented as a woman for a long time, it's unsurprising he got dragged into embroidery at one point.]

[ Crowley is never not level-grinding in Nuisance. ]

But they're prettier. [ He hasn't even seen one of these newfangled ones, he can sense that he'll think they're not as pretty. And even if they are nice-looking, they're actually not. ] And all the craftsmanship that went into them! The personal touches!

[ What's the point!!!!!!!! ]

It isn't as if they've outlawed the old ones.

[This is the best fun, getting to rile Aziraphale up and then pretend that he agrees with whatever Situation the angel is upset about just to make things worse.]

Just a lot easier to make and t'work with. You know how the new generation is, need everything handed to them.

[Now he's just parroting human nonsense and Aziraphale knows it.]

It's not the same.

[ On account of: he doesn't like it and doesn't like that it's not the same.

Crowley can watch his parroting turn Aziraphale into a puffed-up owl. His final form. ]

Oh, stop that. Absolutely ridiculous.

[It takes some self-restraint not to burst out laughing, but he manages it.

Barely.]

Stop what? M'just telling the truth.

[He's the worst. Get him on Fox News.]

[ S C O F F S. ]

You're patently not telling the truth and you know it! 'Need everything handed to--' [ Scoffs! Again! Waves a hand! Ugh. ] I'm not, I'm not even entertaining that, it's malarkey.

[ Bullroar! Hokey! ]

And yet here you are, very much entertaining it.

[Check and mate!!

Aziraphale might be able to con Crowley into wearing tweed, but in turn, he can con Aziraphale into getting annoyed about something unimportant.]

I'm not! I've told you I'm not!

[ DEFINITIVELY. FOR SURE. So says him, the guy who literally handed humanity a flaming sword to make things easier for them.

...

........ ]

But if I were, it would only be in the context of how foolish the premise sounds no matter who tries to say it.

[ Least of all someone who is his friend and has shown him the most kindness and patience and consideration out of literally anyone he's ever known for thousands of years. ]

[With a mocking head wiggle:] But if you were...

[Crowley doesn't finish the sentence. Instead, he hops to his feet so he can cheerfully refill both their glasses.

There's less need for the alcohol to take the edge off a weird situation; now they're just drinking for the fun of it.]

I'm just having you on, angel.

[If he sounds very soft about it no he doesn't.]

[ Nigh immediately: ]

Well obviously you are, you're incorrigible.

[ Crowley thinks he's sooo funny and pretty and cool and good at making Aziraphale's heart do unnecessary flutters when he uses soft tones on him.

And he's right. But Aziraphale doesn't have to admit to any of that right now. ]

I'm a demon, it'd be a bit odd if I were corrigible.

[It's easier to talk about concepts like 'reform' when it's about a stupid joke he's making and not Aziraphale throwing forgiveness in his face during an argument. Not that he's still holding onto that or anything.]

S'a funny word though, isn't it? Incorrigible sounds perfectly fine, but corrigible ought to be a made up word.

[Your honor.... he's stupid.]

[ Maybe he should have used insufferable, since Crowley is both sufferable and insufferable. Well there's always next time. Crowley contains multitudes.

Aziraphale scrunches his eyebrows like "what do you mean it's a funny word it's such a regular word." And yet, he cannot help but be drawn into this concept. ]

I don't think you can have incorrigible if corrigible isn't there to start. Sort of... cancels the entire premise out, doesn't it?

[This wasn't even an intentional distraction, he's just off on a tangent now.]

Tell that to being whelmed. Can only be under and over, these days. Corrigible could've been a word like that.

If it helps, I hear people using corrigible about as often as I hear them using whelmed. [ Never. ] They've... properly grown into the prefixes.

[ He does some gesture that involves his hands going up and splaying out. Like a tree shape. What is that even trying to help. It doesn't matter. He just finally noticed that Crowley refilled his drink so he's picking it up again. ]

Always an odd bit of business, language.

Oh, it helps tremendously, thank you.

[Is he teasing? Absolutely, because clearly there wasn't actually anything that needed helping, but it's cute that Aziraphale phrased it like that.]

They should've stuck with hieroglyphics, that made much more sense than English ever has.

[ Aziraphale heroically doesn't stick his tongue out about it. ]

Love hieroglyphics. Such a nice system. I've still got some absolutely lovely papyrus sheets in the shop from back in the day. Well, technically. Not in the shop proper. You understand. [ He supposes those particular sheets don't... exist. In this world. In the same way that everything he'd collected over time either doesn't exist here or exists slightly differently, wound up who knows where.

But he's not letting himself think about that. Too close to those first handful of weeks in the Wilderlands where the last he'd heard was that the bookshop burned down. Before he'd sort of-- caught up, somehow. Just sort of depressing. Waste of time, that. ]

Better if they don't wind up touching all those human hands.

[ Even incidentally!!! Never mind that he'd never allow them to actually be damaged by that sort of thing. What if he didn't have to worry about controlling it at all by keeping them very safe in the first place? ]

[Even before the qualification of not in the shop proper comes, Crowley knows that the scrolls aren't just in the shop where any old human could get too close to them. It's a sentiment that he agrees with in this case, since those sorts of things are very delicate and very old and it would be a loss if they were destroyed.

That doesn't mean he has to admit it.]

You say that about everything in the bookshop.

[It's true.]

[ The pause of an angel trying to think of even one thing in the bookshop he wouldn't say that about to use as a big gotcha, and coming up with nothing of the sort. ]

...

It's delicate material.

I reckon you're the delicate one.

[Teasing but like, in a fond way where he's the only one allowed to call Aziraphale things like soft or delicate because they both know that Crowley sees them as assets, not negatives, even when he's teasing.]

M'gonna suggest Adam and his mates come visit once we're back home. Get their sticky fingers all over your books.

[That counts as a hate crime actually.]

[ Crowley has accrued certain social privileges in their time knowing one another. This is, in fact, one of those privileges. Really only because he says these things with rounded edges, says them in tones so clearly not intended to insult that Aziraphale would feel bad about sharpening them himself and aiming them to wound.

Whatever his own complicated feelings he pretends he doesn't have about the matter may be, Crowley's more than earned that much good faith.

That doesn't save him from getting a little ~look~ about it, or a follow-up slightly more alarmed look. ]

Wh- you'll do no such thing!

[Every day he wakes up and chooses to antagonize Aziraphale for no reason other than he thinks it's cute when his face gets all worried over things that don't matter.

He's literally that kid pulling on a girl's pigtails because he likes her.]

I will do such a thing. I'll even take them out for ice cream right before.

[Aziraphale could kill him in cold blood right now and no jury would convict him.]

[ The AUDACITY. ]

You will not! [ Calling a bluff? Making a demand? He doesn't even know. He's making sounds that don't remember how to be words. ] Oh- oh, fine thing, cart four children into London and all you do is-- do you have any idea-- out of the question! Entirely out of the question.

[ They're fine children. Objectively. They're sweet. Fairly sensible. All his thanks to Adam for the new corporation and the non-burned bookshop. But four of them cooped up in the shop all sticky and probably bored and full of youthful energy-- lord. The damage control after they left could take hours. Aziraphale's about to need an old-timey fainting couch. ]

[It occurs to Crowley that there's probably something wrong with him; he enjoys it far too much when Aziraphale gets sharp and bossy with him, in a way that's more than just the fun of riling him up, but examining that too closely seems like a very stupid move. He's just not going to think about it ever again.]

You know what, you're right. Ice cream is a terrible idea, I'll take 'em to the cinema instead, get a few buckets of popcorn to share.

[Sticky fingers are bad, but greasy, buttery fingers are even worse. Those stains will last forever.]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject