"There will come a poet whose weapon is his word, he will slay you with his tongue, oh lei, oh lai, oh Lord." Soldier, Poet, King by The Oh Hellos

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Three cups of tea sit on a wooden desk with years of accumulated mug-sized rings. You and Aziraphale's are half-full while the third lies untouched. You decide to break the silence in hopes of finding something out about the visitor.

"So, uh... When do you think your friend is getting here?" You ask Aziraphale.

"Soon... I do hope he hasn't gotten himself into an accident. It would be quite bad if he perished."

"Of course it would, it's not like he's coming back. Is he a risky driver?"

"Very much so. If he agrees, I fear for you."

Well, that's comforting.

"Wait, 'agrees'?"

"Ah, I shouldn't have said that. Don't mind me."

"Okay...? Besides from that, what's he like? You haven't even told me his name."

"His name is Anthony J. Crowley. And I'll let you decide who he is when you meet him."

"If you say so. So, I call him Anthony?"

"Ah, no."

"Mr. Crowley?"

"Just Crowley."

"So I call him 'Just Crowley'?"

"Y/N, you're very well aware of what I meant."

You laugh lightly. "I did, sorry."

He looks away, nervous.

"What's wrong? Are you scared I'll embarrass you or make you look bad to him?"

He meets your eyes with an uncharacteristic unamusement. "I'm scared of that he'll make me look bad."

"Don't worry, it'll be fine. I'm not a judgemental person."

He nods. "I know you aren't. That doesn't mean I can't worry."

You shrug. "Eh, fair point. But I'm sure everything will work out well."

"I hope so..."

Suddenly, you hear a loud car pull up. A car door slams and the door to the bookshop opens. You and Aziraphale stand up, with him in the lead. You want to be as unnoticeable as possible, so you're nearly hiding behind him.

In walks a man. He looks slightly younger than Aziraphale and has bright orange hair that sticks up in the front. He's wearing a black casual suit with a low-hanging, thin grey scarf tied around his neck that looks a bit like a tie. His walk is a distinguishable sort of saunter, the kind that would be amazing at hiding clumsiness if you wanted it to.

He wears a stern facial expression slightly obscured with wrap-around sunglasses with circular lens. They're so dark you can't see his eyes at all.

His skin is slightly greyer and paler than usual, but somehow, it seems completely natural, It only stands out when you glance at Aziraphale to see if this is really his friend and not just some weirdo who decided to stop by for some unknown reason. This doesn't seem like his scene whatsoever, so it's probably the former option, despite the fact that it doesn't necessarily fit any better.

Aziraphale's eyes are wide in recognition and he has a slight smile. You were right, this man is Anthony J. Crowley.

"Ah, here you are," Aziraphale says. "I'm afraid your tea has grown cold, I'll get you another cup. While I'm gone, you should introduce yourselves to one another." He hurries to the back room.

Crowley calls to Aziraphale, "Oh, don't bother. I'll be on my way again soon."

Aziraphale turns his head towards him, nods, and continues on his way, the three cups of tea in his hands.

Crowley turns to you, and you feel his gaze through the sunglasses. After a moment, he holds out his hand.

"Anthony J. Crowley. Pleasure to meet you." Although there doesn't seem to be a particular reason for it, you can detect a trace of scoff in his voice. Then again, he doesn't seem the type to greet people formally. That's probably it. He's just way out of his comfort zone-- you know you are.

You take his hand and shake it, already internally cringing at what you're probably going to say. "I-I'm Y/N L/N. It's nice to meet you, too." You drop his hand and consider what Aziraphale told you. You trust him, but at the same time, maybe his friend wants you to call him something different.

"O-oh, you said your name was Anthony J. Crowley. Does that mean I'll refer to you as Mr. Crowley? I am open to calling you by your first name. If you want. I-I don't want you to have to if you don't want..." Thankfully, your voice drifts off before it can do any real damage.

Oh, God, you were blabbering. I mean, you are meeting a random person who looks very intimidating and mysterious. It's probably the shades. Definitely the shades.

Or maybe you just suck at talking to people in general, and you got so used to speaking to Aziraphale you forgot how awkward you really are.

It could also be that you weren't expecting the mild-mannered, easy-going, kind Aziraphale, owner of an antique bookshop to have a friend like... this. Although looks can be deceiving, and you had assured Aziraphale that you wouldn't judge either of them.

Thankfully, he ignores your outburst. "Do not call me Mr. Crowley, I'd never be able to live it down. As far as my first name goes,  do not call me that either. Just Crowley's fine." You nod in response. As it turns out, Aziraphale had been correct.

And, speak of the devil, here comes Aziraphale. "Hello, I'm back. How are you two getting along?"

"Just fine, thanks," Crowley says, walking over to a chair and sprawling himself onto it. Aziraphale turns to you.

"Y-yeah, we're getting along fine," you say to Aziraphale, smiling weakly.

His eyes shine at his two friends meeting and being relatively friendly to one another. "Good, good. Now, Y/N. I've discussed this with Crowley. He hasn't quite given me an answer yet, although I may as well just explain everything."

Crowley butts in. "You mean to tell me that she has no idea what you've been plotting?" 

Aziraphale looks down and wrings his hands. "No. She does not. She is not aware of what I've asked of you."

You clear your throat to get their attention, and they both turn to you. "So, what's going on?" At this rate, they probably never would have stopped talking about how they should tell you and never get to the part of the conversation where they actually tell you.

"Well, as you clearly see, I asked Crowley to visit while you were here..." Aziraphale pauses.

"But what did you ask him to do?" You ask.

He looks down at his feet. "I'm asking if he could be so kind as to let you live with him."

Well, that's... honestly not much of a surprise. Aziraphale is incredibly considerate of everyone, you included. But Crowley hasn't said whether it's okay or not. You don't even know yourself if you want to live with him, but at least it's better than the damp streets, chock-full of people who wish you harm.

Crowley considers this. Finally, he speaks. "Sure, it'd be fine. Why not?" He stands to leave.

"Oh, I-- er...It's not like I'm able to pay rent or anything. I-I'm in college and I was fired because my boss hates me for some reason, I'd just be a burden. You really don't have to--"

"I said it's fine." He turns points to your small suitcase with his thumb. "Is that all you have?" You pick it up. "Yeah, it is."

He looks up to you. "All your worldly possessions?"

"Yeah...?"

"It's not much for your average hu--"

Aziraphale jumps up and interrupts him mid-sentence. "Don't." He winces and corrects himself, placing a hand on Crowley's shoulder. "Please... don't talk about that. Ah, here, come with me, I'll explain." He drops his hand, and walks to the back room, glancing back to Crowley, who takes the hint and follows him out.

You sit alone in the empty bookshop while they talk about... something. You, probably. Oh, well.

~Crowley's POV~

"What is it?" Crowley says once he's standing in the room.

"One moment." Aziraphale closes the door and turns to him.

"We can't tell her. I haven't told her yet."

"About Armaged--"

"Yeah."

"Does she know we're, y'know..."

"No."

"We'll need to tell her eventually."

Aziraphale sighs. "I came close a few times. Mostly on accident."

"How? You've been practicing not telling people for eons!"

"I want to tell her. She needs that support in her life..."

"What support?"

"Death. She doesn't believe in Heaven and it... hurts."

"If you say so..." Crowley says, annoyed. Why should it "hurt" to have her not believe in Heaven? Yeah, one's pride might be hurt if you're an angel, but not enough to risk so much.

"But we still can't tell her. We can't let her fear this. And if she knows, especially Armageddon... She could be in awful danger. We can't let the head offices know we told anyone, or we'll all be in trouble."

"That won't work. She's bound to find out eventually, no matter what we do. It's too big a secret."

"I know. I just..." Aziraphale sighs again. "She's... like a daughter to me. I want to keep her protected, for as long as necessary."

"Look, I know you care for her, a lot, but that'll be impossible. Besides, we have enough to deal with. Why add another... factor?"

"I... I don't know. But if we don't succeed, it's not because we helped her. We can at least make her last time on Earth enjoyable."

"Fine, angel. This means so much to you?"

Aziraphale nods, looking down, and Crowley feels a pang of... something. He turns on his heels and opens the door wide, then glances back to the angel and smirks. "In that case, don't worry about it. I'll keep her safe."

~Y/N's POV~

"From what?" You ask as Crowley walks out of the room towards you. You hadn't been eavesdropping, you'd only heard the last bit.

Aziraphale runs forward in front of Crowley. "D-don't worry about it!" You're taken aback by this sudden ferocity. Whatever they don't want you to find out about, it must be bad.

Crowley sighs, then turns to you again. "Well, Y/N, come on. We'd best be heading back to my place."

You grab your suitcase again and follow him out the door. Right before you leave, you turn your head to Aziraphale, who smiles. "Goodbye, Y/N."

You nod and wave. "Bye, Aziraphale. And thank you. I really mean it, thank you so much."

"Of course. I'll talk to you later?"

You grin. "Definitely." You turn back to a waiting Crowley. Y/N, what have you gotten yourself into this time?