#berkeley square i cant spell

[angel-and-the-serpent]

Hey! I saw what you wrote with Crowley and Aziraphale being in a cabin in the middle of a windstorm! I think this ask is gonna be inspired off of that, but if you could write something about Crowley having fun outside in a middle of a windstorm and Aziraphale just trying to get him to come inside the bookshop and Crowley being a little shit and ends up ultimately dragging Azi in the wind with him and fluff ensues? Thank you!

Lovelies, I did it. i wrote an entire ficlet? oneshot? fanfic idek, SOMETHING for this wonderful anon, I hope you like it, and please dont be scared to send in more, I love doing these --------------------- Soho Windstorm Length: 715 words Context warnings: Language

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It had been a normal day so far. As far as you could consider a normal day for an angel and a demon. That was until a windstorm somehow got knocked off its path and ended up in Soho, how? Aziraphale could only imagine. Though, he thought as he stared out the window, eyebrows furrowed, it had to do with the man dancing in the wind, 

Crowley was having the best time she had had in over 6000 years.

Yes, admittedly he had diverted the windstorm, but eh fuck it, if anyone found out, he did it for demonic reasons. Crowley was dancing in the wind. Dancing, not on a pinhead, but in the middle of an empty Soho street while a windstorm caused chaos around him. 

He wasn't really dancing, not really, but more like, doing what he wanted. Spinning in circles, shouting at the top of his lungs, that's what it mostly consisted of, The wind whipped his face, leaves swarming and battering his shoes as he did his own thing in the wind. 

Crowley felt a sense of freedom, he was always provided with some sort of freedom by the wind, a breeze on the hottest day, a short fast blast through a fan, it always provided him happiness, he didn't know where it came from, but he wasn't against it. 

Crowley paused mid-spin as he saw his angel staring at him through the bookshelf window, he raised a single eyebrow at her angel, smirking as he raised a singular arm outwards, as an invitation, seeing whether her angel would come out into the wind and be wild, let go of the worries, let the thought of Armageddon, of looming danger from their minds “No” the angel mouthed at the demon with a small internal smile, “Come inside, you silly demon” *come inside where it’s warm, come in, and we can drink, and I can play the record you like…the one about nightingales* The demon laughed, jogging over to the bookshop door and pulling it open, gusts of strong wind shooting in and disrupting the nearby papers, to which Aziraphale let out a strangled gasp/ cry of “Crowley, dear really?!” The demon laughed, grabbing her angel’s wrist, pulling them outside the comfort of their bookshelf and into the winds outside, laughing at the angel's cries as the bookshop doors were miracled shut. “C’mon angel!” the demon yelled, pulling Aziraphale by the hands into the wind, “loosen up, angel!” “Dear, let me back inside!” the angel pleaded, with a fleeting look back at his book shop, before he was startled by Crowley's body wrapping itself around his in a tight hug, “2 more minutes?” Crowley asked, “Then we can go drink?” Aziraphale let out a small murmur in response Crowley laughed, releasing her angel and spinning on the spot, whooping and laughing, the angel stood to the side, huddling himself under the awning of a building, watching his demon with soft eyes and a small smile to join them, he loved - uh…liked, seeing his friend…his demon like this, free of the burdens hell gave him, free of all the pain on his shoulders, just openly himself, just openly happy. “Shit!” Crowley laughed as the wind got harder, “Get inside, get inside it’s bloody freezing” “I told you!” Aziraphale scolded letting them both into the warmth of the bookshop and deadbolting the door behind them, He miracled the record played to start the familiar hum of a song Crowley was partial to, as the demon sat down on the sofa, perking up with a wide grin as the familiar notes of the song he had introduced to them in 1941 played though the record player, “You don't have the record” he laughed, leaning forward with a smirk and a glint in his yellow eyes, “Bought it yesterday” the angel said, *just for you* “What one is it today?” Crowley asked, referring to the wine, “I’ll go have a look,” Aziraphale said, walking away, further into the shop, leaving Crowley on the sofa with a grin on his face, as he listened to the familiar voice play…

The streets of town were paved with stars It was such a romantic affair And when you turned and smiled at me A nightingale sang in Berkeley square

I hope you liked it anon!! - Angel