#as the pip farm he manages is very. well let’s just say pips tend to starve in there a lot

[arolesbianism]

I’ve been thinking abt one of my older oni colonies and decided to doodle my first three dupes in that save

[barpurplewrites]

Afternoon in Soho

A nice and accurate record of a couple of one book meeting a couple from another. (If she had read these burnt words, mine descendant Anathema, wouldst name these a fanatical fan tail. Know that it is and it is not, for when the butterfly flaps everything comes to be everywhen and where.)

-x-x-x-

Rumple and Belle strolled arm in arm through the streets of London. They had spent the afternoon at the Globe, although Rumple hadn't paid much attention to the play. He'd been far happier watching Belle's reactions, her face a picture of joy and delight at the story unfolding before her, even though she must have read it a dozen times.

“I thought the elephant was a bold choice.”

Rumple blinked, he didn't recalled an elephant. There wasn't even a mention of an elephant in the script, so how had he missed that?

“Erm,” - crossing the road bought him a moment to wrack his brain. Nothing, no memory of an elephant, which would have looked a bit out of place in 'Much Ado About Nothing'. As the reached the curb Belle turned on her heel, moving her hand from the crook of his arm to take his hand. She grinned at him. He sighed and fondly shook his head.

“You're teasing me, sweetheart.”

“A little, you seemed to spend a lot to time looking at me. Did you not enjoy the play?”

He tugged on her hand and pulled her into him. Her free hand came to rest on his chest and he lay his over it; “I enjoyed the play, because I like seeing you so happy.”

She flexed her fingers against his chest, just an echo of how she clawed at him in her passion last night, but enough to send a flare of lust through his body. He almost suggested they head back to the hotel, but Belle had discovered a bookshop in Soho she wanted to take a look at. The place had strange opening hours, not unlike his own shop, one of the many joys of being a sole trader he supposed. He lifted Belle's hand from his chest and pressed a kiss to her fingers.

“Bookshop?”

Belle's face lit up in a grin, gods he could never get enough of that sight. She slipped an arm around his waist.

“Come on, it's not far.”

In his bookshop in Soho, Aziraphale was busying himself with a little dusting. He was expecting Crowley any moment now. The demon had popped to Birmingham to perform a light temptation and a small miracle. Aziraphale would have liked to have won that coin toss. There was a simply wonderful Balti house he adored in Birmingham, and the fantastic farm shop that made brilliant sausage sandwiches. Oh well, maybe next time.

A sudden sensation rippled through his being. Something evil was headed this way. He cocked his head to one side and tapped his feather duster against his hand, scattering the dust back over the shelves. No, not evil as such, but dark, yet contained, contained by love. Aziraphale had never felt a love so deep and true. It made him really quite giddy.

And then love walked in through his door. Arm in arm. Love wrapped so snugly around darkness that he wasn't sure exactly in whom it dwelt.

“Good afternoon.”

A small woman, wearing those tall heels that Crowley had received a commendation from Downstairs for inventing, smiled at him; “Hi, I'm so glad we found you open.”

“We were hoping to have a look around.”

Aziraphale turned his glance to the man. Him, it was in him, whatever this darkness was, he was sure of it. He stood straighter, and gripped his feather duster, not perhaps the best weapon against an unknown darkness, but he was an angel and he would thwart this vile creature.

The women smiled at the vessel of darkness and said; “And maybe buy something?”

“Of course, sweetheart, several somethings I expect.”

The wave of love from the man as he spoke to the woman caused Aziraphale to rock slightly on his feet. Ah, maybe hold off on the thwarting. It appeared that the woman had it under control. But they had mentioned a hideous thing that did need thwarting pronto; buying one or more of his books.

“I stock rather specialized books...”

“Oh I can tell. Is that a first edition of Huckleberry Finn in the window? With the typesetting error?”

All of Aziraphale's well-practised tactics to gently dissuade customers melted away in the face of a genuine, knowledgeable fellow bibliophile. He dropped his feather duster on to a shelf and hurried forward; “Yes, yes it is, in fact it is from the first impression, so it also has the upside down illustration of plate...”

Rumple watched as Belle engaged the store owner, Mr Fell, (although if that was the man's real name Rumple was the Sultan of Agrabah), in enthusiastic conversation. He loved talking books with Belle, not so long ago he would have been jealous to see her share her passion for literature with someone else. He made a mental note to send a thank you letter to Archie. A copy of Dickens' 'A Fairy Tale of Home' caught his eye, or maybe he would just drop a note to Dove to deliver that brass cricket hearth ornament from the pawnshop to the good doctor. Yes, that would work perfectly.

He paused and scratched at his palms. What was causing that? As they had walked into Soho Rumple had become aware of a feeling of evil. He'd figured that it was just the lingering reputation of the area. According to Belle's research Soho had historically been the centre for all manner of vice. Now it appeared to have become home to the kind of raunchy that let people have a thrill without the risk of losing life or limb. Socially acceptable evil wouldn't be making his hands itch.

Rumple took a long hard look at Mr Fell. He wasn't going to judge a man for concealing his true name, he knew the power and weight of a true name better than anyone. This man was a perfect stereotype of a bumbling bookish Brit. It was an act, but there was no threat from him. If anything he radiated a goodness the likes of which Rumple hadn't seen since Snow White was young.

Could it be the books? Mr Fell did say he had a specialized stock. He took a step closer to the nearest bookshelf, and the feeling faded, nothing on this shelf was dangerous. Although he did wince at the copy of 'Barney the Vampire', best keep Belle away from this shelf.

The itching suddenly raced from mild, ignored the stop sign in annoying and intolerable, and skidded to a halt in RUN, RUN NOW!. Rumple found himself reaching for his magic, magic that didn't exist in the quantities it did back home. He could use magic here, but the price tended to be erratic and often left him with a splitting headache. He managed to fight down his flight urge with nothing more to show for it that a few books sliding to one side on the nearest shelf.

Belle's head snapped around, she'd felt his panic. Mr Fell was giving him a curious look as well, but before any questions were asked the shop door burst open.

“Angel! Phew, have you got more books by that Archer bloke? This place reeks of...”

The tall man in black and sunglasses who had just burst through the door slithered to a halt when he spotted Belle. He took a second to swallow whatever he had been about to say and rephrase it.

“... that nasty aftershave the deliver driver wears.”

“Oh hello Crowley, back already, wonderful. Make yourself comfy I'll be with you in a jiffy, or two.”

Rumple needed no magical senses to know for sure there was something other about this man. Were those snake skin boots on his feet? Pfft, poser. Rumple's feet shifted, his fingers flexed, and it wasn't until he glanced at Belle and caught the amused look on her face that he realised he'd started to slip in to what she called his Imp stance. What was he thinking? Why on Earth would he need to  intimidate this, this black-clad, flame-topped being? He relaxed and gave Belle a reassuring smile that said he was fine, that everything was fine. Belle blew him a kiss in return and turned back to the book Mr Fell had been showing her.

Once her attention was engaged he fixed the man in black with a stare. If he twitched in Belle's direction it'd be goodbye snake skin, hello snail shell.

Crowley was a bit miffed. He driven to Birmingham, a city whose road network proved that humans could create Hell on Earth without any help from him. He had been supposed to tempt someone in town planning to increase the road works, but after seeing the mess that passed for transport, he'd decided not to bother. He'd put the paperwork in and claim the chaos as a result of his influence, job done as far as Hell knew. Then he'd done the miracle, there would be no trouble from the fans during the next big football match between the top two local teams. Now that would get him into serious trouble if Downstairs found out, they were rather keen on mindless violence. On the drive back he decided to tempt Aziraphale out to the little bar that did those fru-fu cocktails. And what happens, he gets here and gets told to wait a jiffy or two. What in the hell was a 'jiffy'? Looking at Aziraphale he had the feeling that a jiffy was going to turn out to be an hour or two. He was talking to a customer, for pity's sake. He didn't even like customers, they did stupid things like try to buy his books.

With an annoyed huff Crowley turned on his heel and finally spotted the other customer. His tongue flicked between his lips to taste the air. Oh, yeah this man was the source of the evil scent in the air. Interesting, he wasn't one of Hell's. He had a brilliant stare, very intimidating, and that was a real compliment coming from Crowley, he knew stares. This could be fun, he'd not had a decent staring contest since Rasputin.

Rumple kept his gaze steady on Crowley, that was what Mr Fell had called him. He'd heard that name somewhere before and that he couldn't recall where was  as irritating as a pip stuck in his teeth. That this Crowley was dangerous and evil wasn't in question, but it was hard to really fear someone when they were trying to out-stare you while wearing sunglasses. When the light hit them right, a tiny glimpse through the smoky lenses gave the impression that Crowley's eyes weren't human, that was a nice touch, but it would take more than reptilian eyes to unsettle him.

At this point an impish idea occurred to Rumple.

From the corner of his eye Rumple could see that Belle and Mr Fell were engrossed in their conversation. Both had their backs turned. The windows of the shop hardly gave a clear view into the shop, so the only witnesses would be two beings who he was ninety per cent certain weren't fully human, and Belle, who knew him and loved him, warts and all. It was hardly magic at all, just giving his body a nudge to recall how it had once been. And, of course, there needed to be a touch of dramatic flair in the reveal, just to show this poser how it was done.

Crowley blew out a sigh when the man dropped his head after a measly three minutes. Great stare, no staying power. Shame. He was about to go and pester Aziraphale when the man shifted his weight. Something about the way his right foot edged forward and his hands moved from his side caught Crowley's attention.

And then he raised his head, and grinned directly at Crowley.

“Woah!” - Crowley whipped off his sunglasses, - “Those are amazing. Totally fuc...”

As Crowley's colourful expletive echoed around the shop, several things happened. It is difficult to understand the order of events unless one can slow time down. So, let's do just that and take it step by step.

First; … we go back a moment … Rumple had just dropped his chin to his chest. In the time it takes for Crowley to express his disappointment via a sigh, Rumple has performed the magic to necessary to remind his brown eyes they were once different ...

Second; … on the other side of the room Belle feels the familiar tang of Rumple's magic in the air. She stammers over the name of a Shakespearian scholar ...

Third; … Aziraphale doesn't notice Belle stammer, but he does feel the swell of the darkness he had identified as residing in her husband ...

Fourth; … Rumple shifts into Imp stance and raises his head ...

Fifth; … Crowley swears and whips off his sunglasses revealing his demonic eyes ...

Sixth; … Rumple blinks at Crowley's eyes and begins to return the compliment the man had given him ...

Seventh; … Aziraphale draws in a shocked breath that he doesn't need, (because he is an Angel), and shouldn't do, (in Crowley's opinion), because doing so makes him look like an eighteenth century grandmother ...

Eighth; … Belle spins around on her skyscraper heels, (not twisting her ankle because she has completely conquered the insane shoes that give her both height and a weapon to use against any one who compares her unfavourably to a dwarf), at this point she also swears, more colourfully than Crowley and in the privacy of her own head so no one comments …

Ninth; … Aziraphale sternly says; “Crowley!” and in the same instant Belle sternly says; “Rumple!” ...

Tenth: …  (At this point we can rejoin the normal flow of time. Hold on tight) … Both Crowley and Rumple wince and say …

“He started it!”

Belle and Aziraphale sighed in unison, and in the same synchronicity walked towards their respective men, and asked;

“Did he?”

Snake-like eyes met lizard-like eyes and they both rapidly agree to support each other to get them out of a telling off.

Rumple smiled at Belle; “We were just comparing eyes.”

Crowley nodded; “Yep, that's it, and you two were busy with books and...”

Sensing that Crowley was about to jump into his own mouth with both feet, Rumple quickly said; “...we were just chatting, and well, it's not often either of us met someone else with lizard...”

Crowley butted in; “Snake.”

Rumple hardly missed a beat; “Reptile eyes.”

Aziraphale knew perfectly well that Crowley had been showing off, but no one had been incinerated, so everything was tickety-boo. He turned to Belle, and saw she was having similar thoughts about her Rumple. Between them they came to an accord that could be best summed up as 'let them play, as long as they don't start blowing things up'.

Belle knew perfectly well that Rumple had been showing off, but no one had been turned into a snail, so to her mind everything was fine. She turned to Mr Fell and saw that he was thinking along the same lines as her about his man Crowley. (She doubted he was worried about a sudden snail event, that was Rumple's signature after all). Between them they shared a look of 'yes they are idiots, but they are our idiots'.

Belle caught Rumple's shoulder and pressed a kiss to his cheek, she also whispered in his ear; “Nice to see those eyes again.”

Aziraphale smiled at Crowley; “By some miracle a very good bottle of single malt has just appeared in the back room...”

Crowley folded his sunglasses into his jacket pocket as he leaned in close to softly say; “No worries Angel, I'll keep him occupied while you and Belle geek out.”

In the back room of a Soho bookshop that summer evening, a demon and a fairy tale character drank whiskey, as they waxed lyrical about the book-loving centres of their universes currently in the front of shop, no doubt enthusing about everything author under the sun.

In the front room of a Soho bookshop that summer evening, an angel and a fairy tale character drank whiskey, (Aziraphale had two bottles of the good stuff), as they waxed lyrical about the dark hearts of their existence currently in the back of the shop, no doubt trading tales of every temptation under the sun.