rarity
Written for March Madness 2022, Prompt: Museum. Comments and kudos would be awesome. Enjoy!
In 6000 some odd years of contact, Crowley has made himself more than familiar with all of Aziraphale's varying moods.
Lately, in the time since they very narrowly managed to avert the end of the world, Crowley would describe Aziraphale's mood as… sulky. And he gets it. As much as they'd never quite gotten along with their respective sides, being so thoroughly disowned is still a bit of a blow. They're on their own now, and even though being on their own side definitely has its benefits (Crowley is very much enjoying lounging about the bookshop as often as possible just because it means he gets to be near Aziraphale without fear of retribution from Above or Below) it is certainly a stark change.
So, with his 6000 some odd years of knowledge on the subject, Crowley decides to try to find a way to lift his Angel's spirits a bit.
And there is one sure fire way to do that.
A book.
A rare book.
The rarest book.
While he hadn't exactly set out to partially burn down the Library of Alexandria some 2000 years ago, there had been a few… mishaps. A rogue temptation here, a drunken Roman soldier there, and, well, just entirely too many flammable objects had led to a bit of an inferno in the city. Still, the resulting chaos had been enough to keep Hell out of his business for quite some time. But the thing he remembers most of that incident is how forlorn Aziraphale had looked when he'd heard of the loss of all those scrolls and manuscripts.
So he goes hunting – surely something must still remain. He's not looking for much, is he? Just some long lost piece of some millennia old texts. How hard could that be?
He leaves London without a word to Aziraphale, sure that he won't be gone long.
He is incorrect.
He spends the better part of a month following dead end leads through Egypt. For a few days, he thinks he's found something hidden away so deeply in the archives of the Smithsonian that the curators and researchers there don't even know they have it, but upon breaking into the place, he finds that lead was incorrect. After that, he wastes a solid week trying to broker a deal with a sketchy antique collector in Paris, but ends up sorely disappointed (and also mayhaps starting a slightly more intentional fire in the man's library of very convincing forgeries for his troubles). Another month is spent lying his way onto the crew of an archeological dig that's in roughly the same area of the library. While he does manage to help with the unearthing a dinosaur that should very much not be there (Crowley can't help but wonder if Adam had a hand in that), there is no luck in regards to discovering anything like a lost secret fireproof book storage.
He is out of ideas.
So he returns, rather despondent at his failure, to London, to Aziraphale's bookshop and finds a very relieved Angel waiting there for him. These few months are hardly a blip in time for them, yet Aziraphale pulls him into an eager embrace as if it has been centuries (come to think of it, Crowley didn't get a hug like that when it had been centuries).
"Where have you been, my dear?"
He explains, as best he can, his quest for some scrap of Alexandria.
"Darling," Aziraphale says with a smile, leading Crowley to a particular section of the shop. "I guarantee you, I have already obtained everything I possibly could from that place long ago. Frankly, I would have been disappointed in my efforts if you had found anything."
"Oh," Crowley says. While he is relieved that Aziraphale is not disappointed in his failed attempts, he still longs to cheer his Angel up. "In that case," he says. "How about dinner, then? I believe our usual table at the Ritz has just becomes available."
Aziraphale beams at him, considerably less sulky now. "I would very much like that."
