2. Aziraphale Dusts.
Aziraphale was positively vexed.
He didn't often find himself vexed. At best he would be mildly befuddled, usually by the headlines of a newspaper he might have happened across, as he didn't often read them. Stories of what humans were getting up to on a daily basis did not interest him in the slightest, though he knew they should, as he was supposed to be a Principality and all and out there inspiring world leaders to behave themselves.
He much preferred the crosswords. Not to mention the horoscopes, though he felt a touch guilty about that.
However, on the occasions when Aziraphale found himself thoroughly and irrevocably vexed, he had a tried-and-true method of handling it.
He cleaned.
More specifically, he swept every patch of floor, polished every bit of silver, changed the covers on the chairs, reorganised the bookshelves, and even relocated a cadre of spiders, found bivouacking above the shop door, to the laundry next door (where it would be warmer for them, the poor things).
Heaven hath no fervour like an angel vexed.
Aziraphale was in the midst of dusting the rubber plants when Crowley arrived, announced merrily by the little bell above the door. He looked up and acknowledged Crowley with a wave of his feather-duster, and promptly sneezed. As usual, he looked surprised afterward.
"I fear I shall never get used to that," he said. "Though, it does feel nice. Rather tingly."
Crowley grunted. He eyed the angel from head to toe.
"You're cleaning," he said.
"Very observant of you," murmured Aziraphale, getting back to his dusting.
"You're all worked up about something, then." Crowley cocked his head to one side and studied Aziraphale's frilly pink apron with bemusement. "You only clean when you're dithering."
Aziraphale sniffed. "What are you on about?" he asked, stooping to brush the underside of a leave. Crowley reached over and plucked the duster out of his hands. "I beg your pardon."
"Angel," said Crowley, "what do you know?"
"Er."
Crowley sighed.
"You know, then," he said, and the feather duster went up in smoke. "You've been in contact with... them." His eyebrows touched his hairline. "Your people, Upstairs."
Aziraphale sighed, and nodded. "I went to make myself a cup of tea this morning and found a circle opened in the kitchen. Singed the linoleum. I rather liked that pattern." He looked put out.
"Forget the bloody linoleum," said Crowley. "What did they tell you?"
"About the boy?" asked Aziraphale. "Adam?"
"Yes, angel." Crowley rubbed his temples. Innocents could be so maddening, sometimes. (Most of the time.)
Aziraphale told him.
"Fuck," cried Crowley, and he slumped down into a chair and thumped his head against the table. "They've gone mad. All of them, Above and Below."
"Well," Aziraphale said, a little uncomfortably. Crowley peered up at him over his sunglasses, pale yellow glow in the dim light of the shop. "I wouldn't say they're mad."
"Of course you wouldn't," muttered Crowley.
The angel patted his shoulder, rather awkwardly.
"It had to happen sometime, you know," said Aziraphale. "He's growing up. Moving on. Higher learning, and all that. Although, I would have thought he'd have been down for Eton, myself-"
"Focus, angel."
"Right. Sorry."
"So, what did your people want with you?"
"Oh, nothing really." Aziraphale coughed, delicately. "Just wanted me to, er, keep an eye on him. I expect they don't want him learning anything... unfortunate, you know, that could be taught to him at that, um, school."
Crowley lifted an eyebrow. "Like, for example, how to be a proper Antichrist?"
"That would be my guess."
"That's what Hell wants me to do." Crowley glared at his open hand, and a bottle of whiskey materialised in it. "Watch over him, keep him from learning anything Good and Pure and Light, any of that mumbo-jumbo."
He drank straight from the jar.
"Just, no bloody idea how to go about doing that," he added, miserably. "No clue at all."
Aziraphale frowned. "Did they, uh, not tell you where he was going?"
"Well, yes," said Crowley, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his jacket and passing the bottle over to Aziraphale. "But where on Earth is Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?"