Disclaimer: I don't oooown them. They belong to Neil Gaiman. To whom we must all bow down. For he is great and terrible. /bows/
A/N: Yoooo.So then. Second chapter/gasp/ Yes. I do not know what will happen next. I really like Adam in this chapter though. He's very...menacing. /cough/ Now...to reply to the reviewer...;; Only one..But, I thank you, single reviewer, for reviewing.
Devinedragon: Well..You can see Adam doesn't respond very nicely. oo;
XxX
While he was waiting for Crowley to show up, Aziraphale tried to figure out what he had meant. Glancing warily at the door—which was still shut, thank heavens—he sat back down in the cushy old armchair and contemplated the demon.
'You could have wooed me' Aziraphale couldn't seem to get over that. What had he meant. Did…did Crowley want to be wooed by him? No, that wasn't possible. Crowley was not the type of demon to be wooed. If anything, he was the type to do the wooing.
Azriaphale had wondered about that at times. Crowley had flirted with many mortals—while in Aziraphales company, no less—but never had he done so much as accidentally brush up against Aziraphale. In fact, now that he thought about it, Aziraphale couldn't remember a time when Crowley had voluntarily touched him.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of knuckles rapping against a wooden surface. Rather, Aziraphale thought, like the noise one made when one was knocking on a door. Aziraphale glanced at the door. Sure enough, the sound seemed to be coming from behind the door.
"Er..Hello?" he asked.
"Aziraphale." declared a voice.
"Uhm." replied Aziraphale.
"Open this door. Immediately." commanded the voice.
"Adam..? Is that you?" stuttered Aziraphale.
"Yes. Open the door."
"Hum. I don't think I will, if it's all the same to you.."
"Aziraphale." repeated Adam. "I have been quite kind as of yet. I have let you lock yourself into this room, I have let you call for 'backup,' and I have asked you—quite nicely—to open the door. The very door that, if I so wished, would burn down. However, if I'm forced to open the door myself, this conversation will not end so nicely for you. Now, are you going to open the door, or shall I?"
Aziraphale made a distinct, mouse-like noise in response.
"I'll count to three."
Aziraphale silently prayed that Crowley would arrive soon.
"One."
There was the sound of tires squealing against pavement.
"Two."
The door of a car being slammed.
"Three."
The twinkle of the bell above the shops door.