Notes: This is my first Good Omens fanfic, I just had this idea and I desperately needed to write it. Hope you like it. Please, English is not my first language, so if I had some errors please tell me, I'll really appreciate it. And this is un-betaed, so, please, tell me if I have errors.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Good Omens and all its characters are property of Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett.
Some people tell, that in Soho there's a curious bookshop that doesn't sells books. But more curious than a bookshop that doesn't let you shop for books, is the one who owns the bookshop. The same people tell, that he is the kindest person you could find, but only if you don't want to buy a book.
Aziraphale frowned when he heard the door opens and a young, scrappy and wet little boy entered the shop. He had glasses too big for his little face, a fluffy sweater and shy face.
"How can I help you, young man?" Aziraphale said, less amicable than normal, hoping for no helping the young man at all. The angel glared at all the rain drops that were falling from the boy's face and hair onto the floor.
"Oh, I'm so sorry. I was hoping if I could stay just a little here? The rain doesn't seem stop and I don't want my books to get wet." Aziraphale, who more than anyone could understand, invited him in with a radiant smile.
"Please, young man, stay as much as you want then. We can't let those books to get ruined. Take a seat. Do you want some tea for the cold?" He said, now visibly happier that the threat was no more into his books.
"Oh, I don't want to be a burden." Said the young man whose name was not important at all.
"You will be not; I was just preparing myself some. Please, join me in a cup of tea, have a seat and tell me what books you have there."
The books weren't old and weren't as important as a first edition, but the scrappy boy resulted to be a cheerful and passionate literature student who had in his hands some old Greek tragedies, and Aziraphale was delighted to hear him talk about them.
It was in the second week visiting the bookshop for tea that the young boy, whose name now was important but not necessary, received the blessing of being able to hold one of the oldest books of the shop.
"You have so many incredible books here Mister Fell." said they boy but quickly added "Don't worry; I won't buy any of them. Not only because I don't have the money, but because if they were mine, I wouldn't want sell them either." and Aziraphale smiled at him fondly.
As the winter started to get colder and colder, the bookshop started to get warm and warmer with lots of kind, curious and adorable literature students. Aziraphale had to move some bookshelves to make some space, and bought some chairs, and a couple of little tables, and another sofa. He also bought a bunch of new editions of the books they were studying, and sometimes Aziraphale would allow the young boys and girls to read, under his strict supervision, some of the oldest ones.
He got to know the names of every girl and boy that came to study in the shop, and with a bunch of students getting cozy, less people tried to enter to buy books. Also, the kids adored Aziraphale, and of course, Aziraphale loved the children too, especially when they stopped at the bookshop with patisseries for him after classes. There was really what the humans call a win-win situation.
It was another rainy and cold Thursday when the door opened and the bell ringed.
"Hey, angel! Do you wa-" Crowley said entering the bookshop but being shushed in the spot.
"My dear, they're studying, show some manners." Aziraphale said from the counter.
The bunch of kids smiled at the man dressed in all black like if his presence wasn't at all inconvenient. In fact, they all looked at him excited and very curious, like if they were waiting to finally meet him after weeks and weeks of listening to Aziraphale talk about "my dear Anthony".
Crowley walked towards Aziraphale a little confused, across the maze of children and books, trying to avoid all the kids scattered in the shop. When he finally got to the other side he looked at the new and strange scene.
"Care to explain, angel?" Crowley whispered and glared at the kids making them shut the happy giggling.
"Oh, these lovely kids are all literature students. They're using the bookshop to study, and they are surely the most pleasant company. Apart of you dear, of course, don't look me like that. It feels good to have the bookshop so full of life and youth. Don't you think?" Aziraphale said putting aside the book he was reading. It was the perfect atmosphere, reading in his bookshop with a lot of young people who were as passionate as him. Oh, the bookshop those weeks irradiated love as it never did before. "What were you saying before, dear?"
"Oh, I was thinking if you wanted to go to a restaurant tonight. I discovered one that I thought maybe you'll like. Students you said?" He said, suddenly more interested in the panorama of people than in the idea of going out to eat.
"Oh, that's wonderful dear, but I couldn't close now. Maybe later when they finished? They are having exams next month and I don't wish to kick them out." Aziraphale said apologizing, Crowley wasn't looking at him and Aziraphale was, for a second, a little scared that the demon was angry with him.
"Hey kiddos!" Crowley said and all the kiddos jumped in their seats. "I have a Master in literature. Does anybody need a little extra help?"
"Since when do you have a master in literature?" Aziraphale whispered under his breath skeptical. "Don't try to do your demonic work with my kids, Crowley." he said and a girl with wavy brown hair stormed directly to Crowley with a sudden spark in her big brown eyes.
"Crowley? As the magisterAnthony J. Crowley? As in 'Mary Magdalene the silenced prophet'? And 'All the dick jokes teachers don't want you to know in Shakespeare's dramas'?" She said bouncing in the spot.
"The one and only." Crowley said with the biggest smirk and in a couple of seconds all the kids were around him fully excited as only over caffeinated students can be.
"Can I have a picture with you Dr. Crowley?" "I'm a big fan Dr. Crowley." "I want to do my thesis about dick jokes too." "Would you come here other day? Would you mind to sign my copy of Theology for dummies Dr. Crowley?" they said, Crowley was surrounded by excited students calling him a handful more of compliments, questions and etcetera.
Aziraphale tried to say something, but he kept opening and shutting his mouth on and on. "Why do you have a master degree in literature, Crowley?"
"I was bored. I also have one in philosophy, theology, politics and law. Now angel, keep reading, you don't know how I miss explaining dick jokes. We can go to the restaurant any other day. Now kiddos, photos later; make groups by the subjects you need help with. C'mon, don't skimp on compliments, the better ones will win signed copies of any of my books."
Aziraphale and Crowley didn't get to eat at a restaurant that night, but they eat Chinese takeout with all the kids while Crowley explained different topics table by table. If you had told Aziraphale that Crowley had that many degrees he would say "well, that makes sense, he is the most intelligent person I've met" but he had never expected Crowley to really study, matriculate and write books by himself. What Aziraphale surely could believe, and was delighted to see, was the bright smile that the demon didn't try to hide while talking about literature to a bunch of energetic and fascinated students.
Since the day that a goofy, scrappy boy with big glasses entered the bookshop the place felt warmer. But since the day Crowley started teaching, the bookshop felt overwhelmed with love. The children were amazed with Crowley, and he, well, Crowley always had a soft spot for children.
Aziraphale smiled as the students took pictures with Crowley and showed him their exams with a 10 marked in the corners and how sincerely happy they all looked, including (especially) the demon. Crowley's name wasn't anymore only in his own books and papers, now his name was in the "special thanks to" ; "with the help of" and even "dedicated to" of a lot of graduate student's paper and theses. Aziraphale could never feel prouder of the demon, and even if Crowley tried to hide it, he couldn't be any more proud of, as he called them, his little demons.
Some people tell, that in Soho there's a curious bookshop that doesn't sells books. But more curious than a bookshop that doesn't let you shop for books is the man who doesn't own the place but gifts books to any student who likes dick and sword's jokes. The same people tell that he is the nicest person you could find, but only if you don't tell him that he is nice.
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Thank you very much.