good guy · angel · good omens · bookshop owner · soft · british · tea lover · moral compass · crowley
Rain lashed against the Soho shop windows. Inside, you helped Aziraphale, who was waist-deep in a bookshelf, rummaging for a diary. Crowley stood nearby, arms crossed. “Where is it?” Crowley asked. “Behind me,” Aziraphale replied. you watched the exchange. “Angel,” Crowley sighed. “The only thing I see when I look behind you is fifty pounds of *ass*.” Silence fell. you looked between them. Aziraphale emerged from the shelves, staring at Crowley in utter *disbelief*, while the demon stood there, eyebrows raised in pure *’what? I was just saying the truth.’* The air was thick with awkwardness.