"I thought you said you were going to fix everything, Crowley," Aziraphale said, wincing as the sound of the hammer started again.
"I've moved him out of the shop," Crowley said. "I talked to him about the books. We miracled away all of the dust. What more do you want?"
"I want it back to the way it was," Aziraphale demanded. "You said that you'd fix it. Now instead of two missing bookshelves, they're all gone."
"We were very careful with the books, I promise. They're all safely boxed up, and we didn't touch anything in the backroom. Your Wilde books are stashed very safely in our bedroom. Yeshua is going to make you some nice new shelves, and you'll have even more room for books when he's finished."
"You know, the last time my shop was destroyed, Adam put everything back the way it was before- apart from a few minor additions to my inventory. Perhaps I should just ask him to put it right again."
"Or, I can take you out for breakfast," Crowley suggested, "maybe stop by the park on the way home, feed the entitled, bastard, ducks. They probably have ducklings hatching by now. You can train them to beg for handouts. And, we'll let Yeshua build you some new shelves, and whatever else he has planned, and just see how it all turns out. If you don't like it, we'll have Adam Antichrist it away after Yeshua leaves."
"Yes, all right then," Aziraphale allowed. "Does he have to make such a racket though?"
The hammering started again, this time accompanied by, "JESUS LOVES THE LITTLE CHIIIILLLDREN."
oOoOoOo
Azazel wore a pair of jeans with work boots and a tight, white, t-shirt today, a tool belt was slung low on his hips. He had his hair pulled back into a tail, and his horns and wings hidden from the view of the mortal plane.
He loitered around the corner from A.Z. Fell and Co. until he saw the delivery lorry pull up and park in the space that usually hosted Crowley' Bentley.
Azazel straightened from the wall and sauntered over to the workmen, a prop clipboard materializing in his hand as he went.
"Hey, fellas," he said, "they sent me over from corporate to oversee this delivery."
A tall bloke with a buzz cut and a clipboard of his own met Azazel. "No one told me anything about that," he said.
"Last minute. Special customer," Azazel informed them. "You boys wait here while I go in and have a chat, and I'll let you know when we're ready to have you come in."
The three other men exchanged a look, and then Buzz-cut said, "Yeah, fine, however you want to do it."
Azazel hitched up his tool belt and went to the front door of the shop. He knocked a few times, and waited, but no one came to the door. The buzz of a saw seemed to be coming from the roof. He held a hand over his eyes, and looked up, but the decorative cornices along the top of the building blocked the roof from view. He tried the door handle, and, finding it unlocked, let himself in.
On his previous visits, keeping an eye on Jesus, he'd gotten a good look at the shop through the windows. It hadn't looked like anything special, just your average bookshop, with shelves stacked full of old books, and a few armchairs scattered around. That had changed. It looked as though the fairies had decided to close up shop. The shelves were gone, and in their place stood stacked boxes, presumably containing inventory. Azazel had a hard time finding a path through the maze of boxes and behind the counter to the hall leading to the stairs in the back and the flat above the shop.
He didn't bother calling up the stairs as he went. He wanted to get a good look at the inside of the flat while he had the chance. A pillow and a rumpled blanket seemed to indicate that someone had slept on the couch, most likely Yeshua, which was a good sign. Azazel had a poke around the bedroom. It definitely smelled like sex in there, a can of whipped topping on the bedside table beside a stack of Oscar Wilde books.
Interesting.
He picked up the one on top, and flipped open the cover.
An old inscription read:
For my dear friend Aziraphale,
It is sweet to dance to violins
When love and life are fair;
To dance to flutes, to dance to lutes
Is delicate and rare:
But it is not sweet to dance with nimble feet
To dance upon the air!
Sweet cherub, if dance is but a vertical manifestation of a horizontal desire, then I think no one may find a better partner in that most scintillating of waltzes than you. My dance card is always free for our next gavotte.
Oscar Wilde
Azazel frowned at the words, puzzling them over. He knew that Wilde was down in one of the circles; he thought that he might have even worked a session or two with the playwright. He knew for certain that Lucifer had more than a few volumes of Wilde's in the infernal library—though they'd never been to his own taste. But, now he had to wonder how good Aziraphale could have possibly been at his job, if he'd allowed one of his friends to end up in the pits.
He returned the book to the pile and went to find the access to the roof. It wasn't very difficult; he just had to follow the orange extension cord that ran up there from one of the outlets in the hallway.
Yeshua had a makeshift work space put together up there. Two bookshelves were stacked together horizontally to make a bench, covered with tools and scraps of wood, and he was bent over it marking down measurements and notations with a carpentry pencil.
Azazel cleared his throat.
Yeshua turned to look at him, smile of greeting fading to a puzzled frown. "Asher? Is that you?"
Azazel hooked his thumbs into his tool belt and pushed out his chest to show off the muscles beneath the tight shirt. "Who else?" he asked.
"What are you doing here? Are you a friend of Aziraphale and Crowley?"
"We've met," he said, and quirked his lips into a suggestive smirk. "I heard that you needed some wood."
"Oh," Adam said, smile returning. "You must work for the lumber yard. I guess that explains why you were at the store last night. Did they have you pulling mascot duty?"
Azazel frowned. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. In all the porn that he'd researched, the man had just said the line about the wood and they'd gotten right to business. He didn't appreciate this detour off the script, and now Yeshua was giving him a strange look while he waited for an answer. Azazel tried to subtly flex his muscles.
"Well, I need it up here, if that isn't too much trouble," Yeshua said.
That's more like it, Azazel thought. "I don't mind having to work for it. Anything to please a customer."
"I don't mind giving you a hand," Yeshua said. He tucked his pencil behind his ear and took a step toward Azazel.
"I know right where you can put it," Azazel said, closing the distance between them. He made an effort to manifest an erection—a quick adjustment of hormones and blood flow. He'd never managed to produce one naturally in these situations. It wasn't that he minded the occasional carnal temptation, but it was work; it had never caused the sort of physical reaction of true arousal that he got from Lucifer. He grabbing Yeshua's hand and pulled it forward to give him a feel of the sort of craftsmanship that you could get from a true professional.
Yeshua's eyes widened in surprise, and he jerked the hand away. "I think you have the wrong idea," he said.
Azazel sighed. And just when everything seemed to be going so well. "Okay, no more games then. I'm here for you to use however you want, anything you like. Do you want me to suck your cock?"
Yeshua made a choking noise, and took another step back, putting a hand up between them. "I don't… Look, I'm very flattered,… really. You seem like a very nice man, but I just don't… I…thank you very much for the offer, but… I'm just… not interested. Yes," his voice found a bit of firmness. "Not interested. No thank you."
Azazel rolled his eyes. "A blowjob is a blowjob, but if the lips just have to belong to a woman, I'm happy to accommodate." He pulled the tie out from his hair and gave it a shake as he trembled and shifted to a female aspect. His jeans pulled tight around more rounded hips and his shirt strained against a set of ample breasts. Azazel sucked in her lower lip and let it scrape against her teeth as she pouted it out again, and gave Yeshua a coquettish smile. "Is this better?"
Yeshua took another step back, and his voice went cold. "Who are you?"
"I can be anyone you want me to be," Azazel said in a soft soprano.
"You're a demon," Yeshua said.
"And I'm guessing you aren't burdened with an overabundance of deductive reasoning," Azazel said.
"What?"
"No shit, Sherlock," Azazel said. This guy, brain like a box full of hammers. "But that's okay. It's never been a problem for me before." She licked her lips again and took a step forward. "Do you want me on my knees for you?"
"No. I… I told you; I'm not interested. Thanks, but no thanks. I think you should go now."
"But I could make it so sweet for you." Azazel advanced on him, reaching a delicate hand out to run it down Yeshua's chest. "You don't have to be nervous. I promise to be gentle."
Yeshua grabbed her hand. "I don't know who you are, but I AM NOT INTERESTED. If you're a friend of Crowley's, that's great. He's out with Aziraphale, and I'm not sure when he'll be back, but you're welcome to come back then."
"I'd rather come now."
"I'm sorry, but that just isn't going to happen." Yeshua used the hand not holding hers to tap the top of Azazel's head.
When the spots cleared from her vision, Azazel found herself standing in front of the shop, one hand still held up.
"Oi, where did you come from?" Buzz-cut asked.
Azazel spun on the heels of her work boots, face twisted into a scowl, and gave another shudder to return to his preferred form.
The workman just blinked at him.
"Well, go on up then," he said. "Maybe you'll have better luck." He thrust his clipboard at the man and stalked off.
oOoOoOo
"Do you know a demon named Asher," Yeshua asked Crowley when they had returned from their outing.
"Asher?" Crowley repeated, setting bags of takeaway on the table. "No, we had an Astaroth, but I don't remember an Asher."
"You don't mean Ashtoreth do you?" Aziraphale asked.
"Could be short for something," Yeshua said.
"That's the name Crowley was using when he played nanny for little Warlock. He's the boy we thought was the Antichrist before we realized the mix-up."
"Rub it in some more, Bucky," Crowley mumbled.
"Probably not then," Yeshua said. "This one has been following me around for a few days now, only I didn't realize that he, or she, was a demon until today. I think he might be trying to… How do you say it now? Get into my pants?"
"Yeah," Crowley said, "that's how we say it."
"That's how you say it," Aziraphale argued.
"Well, what does this demon look like?" Crowley asked.
"Tall, curly silver hair, horns maybe, he was wearing this furry pink goat costume when I saw him yesterday."
"Azazel," Crowley winced. "What is that incompetent incubus doing up here?"
"Trying to get into Yeshua's pants, apparently," Aziraphale said. "Why, who is he?"
"Lucifer's consort."
"Satan has a boyfriend?" Yeshua asked.
"I don't know if I'd go that far," Crowley said. "Azazel is just sort of… Azazel. He hangs around the infernal residence most of the time, and Lucifer gives him special projects. He gets away with murder. Well, not murder, but you know, skipping paperwork and performance reviews, and skiving off on anything he feels is beneath him. He figures that just because he's sharing Lucifer's bed on the regular, that somehow gives him more authority than the rest of us."
"Rest of them, you mean," Aziraphale said.
"Yeah, yeah," Crowley waved a hand, "you know what I meant. He's a huge twat, but not much to worry about."
"Still," Aziraphale said. "If Lucifer has sent him here to tempt Yeshua, it might be best to get rid of him. We have instated a No Demons or Angels on Earth policy, after all. If we don't enforce it, they'll think that they can get away with all manner of tomfoolery."
"Tomfoolery?" Crowley raised a mocking brow.
"Oh, you remember what it was like dealing with Dagon and Uriel. Next thing we know, we'll have Hastur and Sandalphon up here causing a ruckus. That's the last thing we need right now."
Personally, Crowley wouldn't mind having to run off Hastur. He was still spoiling for some more payback, running him over twice hadn't been nearly enough to satisfy Crowley's desire for revenge, but Aziraphale had a point. They had to have standards.
"Yeah, all right, we'll take care of it, Yeshua. You have my word that your chastity will remain intact."
Yeshua flushed. "That's not.."
"No," Crowley waved it away. "Don't even worry yourself over it. Consider us the champions of your Christly Virginity. There won't be any incubi cornering you down dark alleys on our watch."
