Aziraphale had planned for them to eat their fish and chips at the kitchen table, but Crawly was so shaken - even after plenty of reassurances – that Aziraphale decided it would be best for them to eat in the sitting room with the television on. It might help Crawly calm down.
Aziraphale carried their food and drinks upstairs on a tray. Crawly had offered to carry the tray but Aziraphale could see that the poor demon's hands were trembling so badly he might easily drop it.
Once he'd placed the tray on the coffee table, Aziraphale took his usual seat in his armchair whilst Crawly huddled up on the sofa.
No matter how jovial and unthreatening Aziraphale behaved, Crawly still seemed to be expecting something bad to happen.
Crowley had only just started to come out of his shell – watching his excitement in the garden had been wonderful - but now it felt as though they had taken several steps backwards. Aziraphale didn't know how to help Crawly to feel safe.
Aziraphale had noticed that Crawly had a habit of jumping at sudden noises and movements. He also tended to try to make himself as small as possible - he was currently hunching his shoulders as he bent over his plate. Aziraphale wondered what on Earth had happened to him in the past to make him so anxious all of the time. It broke his heart to see him like this.
But this was only their second full day together after all - it would take time for Crawly to feel safe. Aziraphale needed to have patience. Just the fact that Crawly wasn't still hiding under his bed was a victory in itself.
Crawly barely touched his food at first but as he watched television he started to relax and eat in earnest. Soon, his plate was empty. Aziraphale had finished eating long ago, and Crawly glanced over at Aziraphale's empty plate where it sat on the table.
"Thanks for dinner," said Crawly. It was the first time he had spoken since coming up here. "Shall I do the washing up?"
"Thank you, Crawly, yes please. Feel free to wait until the end of this episode though if you like. It's only got another ten minutes on it I think."
Crawly looked unsure, like he thought he might get into trouble for waiting, despite it being Aziraphale's idea. Eventually he nodded. "Okay. Thank you."
After the show had finished Crawly picked up the plates and the cups. His hands were not shaking anymore, but the way he hurried out of the room made Aziraphale think he was desperate to get away from him.
Aziraphale tried not to take it personally. It made sense that Crawly would want some time to himself, especially after what had happened earlier. Aziraphale started to feel bad for making him sit in here with him all this time, but he feared that if he'd told him he could go to his room, Crawly might have thought he was being sent to his room for being bad.
He thought about the wet footprints, and about Crawly going out in the rain. He didn't mind him going outside, but it still worried him that Crawly might have been trying to escape. He felt sure that his wards would keep Crawly contained, but the thought that Crawly would risk his own life just to get away from him made him feel miserable. Was living with him that awful? Maybe there was a reason none of the other angels seemed to like spending time with him. What had made him think a demon would feel any differently?
Aziraphale hoped that Crawly had been telling the truth, and had only wanted to experience the rain. It made sense, especially if he hadn't been outside for a long time, or even touched a plant before.
Crawly appeared in the doorway. He looked lost. "I've done the washing up and put it all away."
"Thank you, Crawly. I appreciate your help. Would you like to watch some more television? Or would you rather retire to your room?"
Crawly looked unsure. "What do you want me to do?"
"There's no right or wrong answer. I want whatever you want."
"I- I am quite tired…"
"Feel free to go to bed then, my dear. Would you like to choose something from the bookcase to take with you?"
Crawly nodded. "Thank you. I- I like books." He went over to the bookcase and started to browse through them. "Before I came here, I'd never seen so many books."
"Just wait until you see how many books are in the bookshop," Aziraphale said with a chuckle.
Crawly picked up a book that was on a side table next to the bookcase. "Wow! The cover of this one is really ornate."
Aziraphale's eyes widened. He recognised the book. It was over a thousand years old and it ought to be in the back room with the rest of his rare books. He must have left it here weeks ago by accident.
Crawly opened the book, bending the delicate spine. "Wow. The hand writing is beautiful-"
"Nonono. Put it down," Aziraphale cried, his voice trembling.
Crawly jerked in surprise, and the book fell from his grasp. It landed with a thud on the carpet, bending a few of the pages.
A gasp escaped Aziraphale, and he got to his feet, staring down at the book and intending to scoop it up.
Crowley misinterpreted his intentions, and, seeing the angel moving towards him, covered his face with his hands as though expecting to be struck.
Aziraphale froze. "Oh, Crawly. Sorry. I wasn't-"
In a flash, Crawly fled the room, running away down the corridor into his bedroom.
"I'm sorry," Aziraphale called after him.
Feeling overwhelmed with guilt, Aziraphale picked up the book. With the help of a quick miracle, the bent pages fixed themselves and the slight crease in the spine vanished. He had frightened Crawly over nothing. It has been selfish and unkind of him to react as he had, especially when Crawly was so scared of him already.
He had to set this right.
The door to Crawly's bedroom had been left wide open in his haste.
Aziraphale poked his head into the room. "Crawly?" he said in a gentle voice. "I'm so sorry I startled you. It's entirely my fault. I shouldn't have left that book in the sitting room, and I shouldn't have raised my voice. I promise you - you're not in any trouble."
A nervous voice came from under the bed. "I'm sorry!"
"You weren't to know. I did say that you could choose any book. I thought all of my rare books were in the backroom, but I must have accidently missed that one."
"Is the book okay?"
"Oh, yes. It's fine. A quick miracle can fix any damage anyway. I'm so sorry I overreacted."
"It was on a table," Crawly said guiltily.
"Sorry?"
"The book. It was- you said to choose one from the bookcase, but I got it from the table. I should have paid more attention to your instructions."
"Don't worry about that. It's an easy mistake to make. Besides, I made a mistake by accidently leaving that book up here in the first place. It's just a book. I overreacted."
"I'm sorry I dropped it... clumsy…."
"I'm sorry I startled you."
"Sorry."
"Sorry."
Aziraphale sat down on the chair by the desk. "Crawly... You know, even if you do ever do something wrong, I would never hurt you. Never."
"What would you do?"
Aziraphale hesitated. He'd never really thought about it. But he had to be careful what he said or he might scare Crawly even more.
Crawly spoke again hastily. "I'd never do anything bad though! Not on purpose! I try to be good."
"If you do anything wrong, I'll explain why it's wrong and how you can do better next time. I can't just expect you to know everything already. I'll teach you any rules as we go along. Just know that I will never hurt you, no matter what happens. And you will always have food, water and your own room. You will always be safe here."
"Thank you."
"I don't want you to be scared of me. That's the last thing I want."
There was movement from under the bed, and then Crawly emerged. He sat on the floor with his back against the bed. His eyes were slightly red around the edges from where he'd been crying, but his eyes were dry now.
Aziraphale spoke up. "The other angels that adopted you... Did- Did they hurt you?"
Crawly gulped. He nodded, and then looked up at Aziraphale. "Not my first owner. She- she'd only give me a little slap if I annoyed her, but- but-" he broke off, and made a shaky sound. "My last owner..." He shook his head and wouldn't go on.
Aziraphale kept his voice calm, though inside he was burning with the injustice of it all. "Your last owner hurt you?"
Crawly nodded.
"They shouldn't have. And your first owner shouldn't have slapped you either. There's no excuse for violence. I'm so sorry you went through that. It wasn't right."
"I tried so hard to be good, but he hurt me anyway. Nothing I did was ever good enough. He said I needed punishing because I'm a demon."
"You've already been punished. You fell, and you lost your freedom and your powers. I think you've been punished enough."
Crawly looked up at him. There were tears in his eyes. "You really think so?"
"Yes, I do."
Aziraphale wanted to ask who his previous owners were, but he resisted the urge. He didn't want to push Crawly or ask too many questions. It was clearly difficult for him to talk about this.
Crawly wrapped his arms around himself. "I regret it every day, you know. I didn't mean to join the rebellion. I should never have hung around with Lucifer and his lot."
"We all make mistakes, my dear. We can't change the past. Just be the best that you can be now."
Crawly nodded and dried his eyes on his sleeve.
"Would you like a hot drink?" Aziraphale asked. "Some cocoa maybe? That always cheers me up when I'm feeling a bit down."
"Chocolate can be a drink?"
"Oh, yes. Would you like to try it?"
Crawly nodded, a hesitant smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. "Yes, please. I like chocolate."
Aziraphale smiled back, pleased that Crawly seemed happier. "Would you like to come with me? It's fun to add the marshmallows and cream."
Crawly nodded and got to his feet.
The second they stepped into the kitchen Aziraphale saw the dragon plant sat in the corner. He had forgotten all about it.
"Oh. Your plant. I don't think we ever decided what to do with it. Have you thought about which room you'd like to keep it in? There's no rush to decide, and you can always change your mind later."
"I can keep it?"
"Of course you can. It's yours Crawly. It will always be yours."
"You, um, said that maybe I could keep it in my bedroom?"
"Yes, my dear," said Aziraphale, "Let's take it upstairs now while the kettle boils."
Crawly excitedly carried the plant upstairs, struggling a little under the weight of it. On the landing at the top of the stairs, Crawly put the plant down for a moment to catch his breath.
"Are you sure you wouldn't prefer I carry it?" Aziraphale asked as Crawly bent down to lift his plant up again.
"Thanks, but I'll be alright. It's not very far now," Crawly said confidently, but then he hesitated. "Unless I'm taking too long..."
"No, not at all, dear boy. I'll open the door for you."
Aziraphale walked ahead and held the bedroom door open as Crawly marched through.
Crawly put the plant down in a corner, and then pushed the long leaves out of his face as he straightened up. "It should get lots of light here. What do you think?"
Aziraphale nodded in approval.
Crawly stepped back, admiring the plant. He turned to Aziraphale with a joyful smile on his face. "Thank you."
It warmed Aziraphale's heart to see him so happy, especially after his fright earlier.
They went back downstairs, and Aziraphale showed Crawly how to make cocoa. Crawly was amused by the squirt-on whipped cream. They added marshmallows before sprinkling cocoa powder over the top as decoration.
"I think the modern term is 'hot chocolate,'" Aziraphale explained, "but it will always be cocoa to me."
While they sat at the kitchen table and enjoyed their drinks, Crawly told Aziraphale about the first time he ever ate chocolate. In the 1870s Michael let him choose a chocolate from a box with 'Cadbury' written on it in swirling letters. After that she occasionally let him have one if she was feeling generous.
Aziraphale shared his own story. Several hundred years before Jesus was born, Aziraphale met a group of Mayan people while traveling, and they prized cacao beans so highly that they even used it as a currency. They made drinks from the cacao which tasted bitter and were often mixed with chillies, a far cry from the sweet chocolate he was used to these days.
Crawly seemed more at ease with him than ever before, and it was wonderful to have him talking so freely. Hopefully, Crawly was starting to understand that no one was going to hurt him.
Crawly stifled a yawn, and then he picked up the mugs before carrying them over to the sink. "I'll wash these."
"You can always leave them for tomorrow. It is getting late after all, and you do look tired."
"I am quite sleepy. Thanks, Aziraphale. I'll wash them when I do the breakfast things tomorrow instead - if that's okay?"
"That's a good idea."
Crawly smiled again, and then he went up to bed.
Shortly after, Aziraphale went into his bookshop.
Crowley lay on his side in his bed, staring at his new plant in the corner. Moonlight cast a glow upon the leaves, and Crowley's demonic eyes could easily make out the details.
A smile spread across his face.
Aziraphale could have punished him by taking the plant away, by hurting him, by making him do difficult and exhausting work. But instead he had gently reassured him that everything was going to be okay, and allowed him to keep the plant. He had even allowed him to have a chocolate drink. Crowley had been expecting punishment, but instead he had been given things that should have been rewards for good work.
Aziraphale had even listened to what Crowley had to say and taken his feelings on board. Crowley's owners had never truly listened to him before, and Aziraphale seemed to care about the things he had been through. Even though he was a demon, Aziraphale acted as though he deserved to be treated with kindness and respect.
Guilt, and a desperate need to force Aziraphale to react in a way more familiar, had made Crowley confess to picking up the book from the wrong place - the table, not the bookcase. 'An easy mistake,' Aziraphale had said, and then brushed it away as if it were nothing, as if any of Crowley's mistakes were forgivable.
Crowley's heart raced. He could feel himself starting to trust Aziraphale, and to believe the things he said.
But had it really been a good idea to share things about his previous owners with Aziraphale? What if he found out who they were somehow? What if Aziraphale talked to Michael and she said horrible things about him? Or Aziraphale told Michael the things he had said about her? Maybe he shouldn't have told Aziraphale that she used to slap him.
At least he hadn't said too much about his last owner, or revealed his name. Crowley shuddered. His last owner terrified him, and the last thing he wanted was for him to come back into his life.
Crowley rolled over onto his back, and stared up at the ceiling, tired but unable to sleep.
Aziraphale had said he didn't want Crowley to be frightened of him. Crowley's previous owners had made it very clear that he should be scared of them, and that they saw him as a lesser being.
Crowley was starting to think that he might actually be able to have a good life here. He could be happy. Aziraphale seemed genuinely kind, and had promised to let him do all sorts of things – have snacks whenever he wanted, move around the flat as he desired, and even go outside into the courtyard. Maybe he could be friends with Aziraphale instead of being afraid of him. Wouldn't that be lovely? Wouldn't that be the most incredible thing that has happened to him since the Fall? In 6000 years, the closest Crowley had ever gotten to having friends were the demons he briefly met in the cells.
Crowley bit his lower lip. Hope was a cruel thing. To have the promise of that kind of life only to have it ripped away would destroy him.
He would have to be careful. He couldn't afford to start trusting an angel only to have them inevitably turn on him. Aziraphale was like a child with a new toy. It wouldn't last. He'd grow bored of him eventually. The only person Crowley could really trust was himself.
Early the next morning Crowley opened his bedroom door and waved a hand out into the hall. The ward was still down, and although Aziraphale had said he was allowed to go downstairs unattended to get breakfast, he still didn't dare do it.
He glanced at the bed, knowing he had food hidden underneath, but he would rather save that for emergencies. Perhaps he should wait for Aziraphale to fetch him.
There was movement from the sitting room, and, as if on cue, Aziraphale came to greet him.
"Good morning, Crawly. I thought I heard your door opening."
"Good morning."
"Ready for breakfast?"
Crowley nodded.
While they walked downstairs, Aziraphale reiterated that Crowley was allowed to leave his room and make himself breakfast whenever he was ready. Crowley decided that he might try it tomorrow if he was feeling brave.
They ate cereal in the little courtyard. It was cooler this morning, so Aziraphale nipped back inside to fetch them a blanket each.
After they had eaten, Aziraphale stood up. "I have some work to do in the shop, but feel free to stay outside. Or you can go upstairs and watch television - whatever you fancy."
Crowley couldn't believe his luck at being allowed so much leisure time. "Thanks. I'll stay outside a little longer, if that's okay."
"Jolly good. I'll come back at lunchtime – around twelve - but feel free to knock on the door that leads to the shop if you need anything." He gestured to the door across the hall from the kitchen. "And feel free to get drinks – including hot drinks - and snacks."
Before long, Crowley was sat outside on his own. He stayed there for a long while, enjoying the peace and quiet, until eventually he gathered all of their breakfast things and took them into the kitchen. He washed them along with the mugs from their hot chocolate the night before, dried them, and then put them away.
He wondered what to do next. He wished he'd offered to do some chores, something useful to make Aziraphale pleased with him. After his screw-ups the day before, and his tearful and embarrassing display after running away to hide in his room, he wanted to make sure Aziraphale would not regret bringing him home.
He glanced at the door to the shop, considering asking for a job to do, but he didn't want to disturb Aziraphale. Maybe he could use his initiative and give the kitchen a good clean? He looked under the sink and found cleaning supplies but he didn't dare to do anything without express permission and instructions first. He decided to ask to be given chores after lunch instead. He considered making himself a cup of tea, but it felt wrong to make one for himself without making one for Aziraphale, and again, he couldn't bear to knock on the door, even to ask if he wanted a drink.
Crowley decided to go back outside and lounge in the sun - which had decided to make an appearance – and by midday, the courtyard was warm and bright. He was looking forward to having lunch outside, but Aziraphale had different ideas.
"I think I'm going to watch television while I eat. Would you like to join me? It's alright if you would rather eat outside."
Crowley decided to go with him. If Aziraphale had bought him because he was lonely, then it would be best to keep him company. Besides, Crowley liked watching television.
For lunch they had some pre-packaged sushi which Aziraphale had in the fridge.
They watched an episode of Antiques Roadshow, and Aziraphale excitedly told him that - given a chance - he would take his collection of Regency Silver snuffboxes onto the show, not to mention some of his rarer books. After the episode had finished, Aziraphale stood up. "I have some more work to do in the bookshop. Will you be alright? Feel free to change the television channel or go back outside if you want."
"Are there any chores I can do?"
"Oh," said Aziraphale in surprise. "Well. Now you mention it, this room could do with a good dust." Aziraphale glanced around with embarrassment at the cobwebs and the fine layer of dust that had settled on the furniture in the room.
Soon, Crowley found himself armed with a feather duster, a cleaning cloth, and a dustpan and brush.
Aziraphale went to leave the room and Crowley turned off the television.
"Oh. You can keep the television on if you like," Aziraphale said.
"Thank you, but I'd rather not have any distractions."
Crowley wanted to make sure he did a good job, but it was also ingrained in him that if he were side-tracked from his chores by the television then his owner would hurt him. He wasn't sure what Aziraphale would do if he got distracted, but either way, he felt better with the television off.
"Would you like some music instead?"
"Yeah, that would be nice actually."
Aziraphale went to the gramophone in the corner. "I like music when I'm doing chores. What would you like to listen to? I have Bach, Beethoven… Er. Brahms. Mozart. Do any of those take your fancy?"
Crowley hadn't heard of any of them so he picked one at random. "Mozart?"
"Good choice. Let's give Symphony Number 40 a go."
Neither of Crowley's previous owners had ever listened to music – not so far as Crowley had been aware anyway. Michael had briefly lived within hearing range of a tavern, and Crowley had been able to hear bards singing and playing musical instruments. Later, for a few decades, he had been able to hear a human practicing piano through the walls. They became rather good at it, and he missed it when they stopped playing.
Thinking back to his last owner, the only music he could remember hearing was the background jingles on news programs.
Crowley wondered if Mozart was going to be like human music, or closer to the Heavenly choirs which he remembered from so long ago. Aziraphale - as an angel - would probably enjoy something more like the choirs. Either way, music would be less distracting than television and better than silence – unless Aziraphale's tastes were that terrible.
Aziraphale set some music playing on the gramophone, and then went back downstairs leaving Crowley alone in the sitting room.
The music was like nothing he had ever heard before – energetic and intense yet intricate. He found himself swept away by it, dusting in time with the music.
Not long after, footsteps could be heard on the stairs as Aziraphale returned.
Crowley looked at the clock on the wall, and was surprised to find that it was almost 4pm already. Time had flown by. He actually enjoyed working when he had music to listen to.
His heart raced, hoping that Aziraphale would be impressed by his work and not too disappointed that he hadn't finished yet.
"Aziraphale! Sorry. I've still got- I haven't done that corner yet, or the bookcase…"
"Not to worry. You've done an amazing job so far," Aziraphale said as he gazed around the room.
Crowley gave a proud smile. "Thanks."
Aziraphale held out a drink towards him. "Here, I thought you might like some orange squash."
Shortly after Crowley took the drink, the music stopped. Crowley turned towards the gramophone in disappointment.
"Shall I put another one on for you? Or- I was thinking you might enjoy the music channels on the television. You can swap back and forth between the channels to find what you like best."
Crowley was given the remote control and shown the different channels. There were a few 'classical' music channels, which Aziraphale said would play music similar to what he had just been listening to, and there were channels which played what Aziraphale referred to as 'be-bop.' Crowley settled on a classical music channel.
Crowley suddenly remembered something he had wanted to ask.
"What would be the best way to clean the carpets? Can I use a broom?" The look of bewilderment on Aziraphale's face made Crowley feel embarrassed. "Sorry, I've never cleaned a carpet before. I used to use a broom or a mop on bare floors. Can I use a mop on a carpet?" he realised he was rambling and quickly closed his mouth.
Both of his previous owners had stone flooring or wooden floorboards which were easy enough to sweep. Crowley was used to washing small rugs, but these carpets were far too big to wash in the same way. He didn't know how he was meant to clean them.
"I was thinking you could use a Vacuum cleaner," said Aziraphale. "Have you used one before?"
Crowley shook his head. "No. I don't think so."
Aziraphale left the room, and then came back with an odd looking piece of apparatus. It consisted of a wedge shape that sat on the floor with a long pole sticking out of it. On the back of the pole was a bag which had 'Hoover' emblazoned on it. Crowley eyed it cautiously.
"I used a miracle on it so it doesn't need to be plugged into the wall. I kept tripping over the cable you see. Such a nuisance. Anyway, have you seen one before? Do you know how it works?"
Crowley shook his head.
Aziraphale explained how it worked and then pushed the hoover back and forth as an example. "But it's not switched on yet. Vacuums are rather noisy. Shall I switch it on? Are you ready?"
Crowley nodded.
A loud whooshing noise came from the vacuum cleaner, and Crowley immediately moved to the other side of the room, putting the coffee table between him and it.
Aziraphale switched the vacuum off guiltily. "Sorry. I'll put it away. You don't have to use it."
"It just made me jump is all," Crowley said, edging closer again, full of curiosity. "Let's try it again."
Crowley soon got the hang of it, and vacuumed the corner of the room as practice.
Aziraphale looked pleased. "While you're doing this, I'll go and make dinner. I was thinking we could have roast chicken."
"Thank you. That sounds delicious."
"Feel free to pop down if you need any help, or if you want another drink or something."
After Aziraphale left, Crowley went back to doing the dusting, listening to a classical music channel while he worked. A dreary and depressing song came on so he decided to change the channel. Full of curiosity, he tried out some of the be-bop channels.
There was a 'Queen' marathon on one of the channels - whatever that meant – and he loved the song that was playing. It had words, reminding him of the bards he used to listen to - and it was bouncy and cheerful. At the bottom of the screen was the phrase, 'Don't stop me now.'
Before long a new song came on, and this one was titled, 'I want to break free.'
It was a shame when he switched on the vacuum cleaner and the noise it made drowned out the music, but he did enjoy dancing with the vacuum just like the man on the screen was doing.