A/N: So this is just a little self-indulgent fic I had rolling in my head and decided to finally write. It's all for the sake of humor.
Aziraphale was reading at his desk on a sunny but cold day in March when he heard the bell above the bookshop door open. Sighing, Aziraphale looked up to see a man in a dark blue suit and slicked back hair, and a woman in a pink suit enter. He bit his lip slightly, wondering what these two would want and if they had the audacity to want to buy one of his books. The pair seemed to look in wonder at the books and artifacts around them before their eyes fell on him. The man seemed to smile warmly at Aziraphale when he got up to meet them.
Aziraphale clasped his hands in front of him, looking pleasant, but not at all happy. Surely they were here to try to buy his bookshop…again.
"I'm George Harris of the BBC." The tall man who he saw had peppered gray hair handed him a business card. "I'm a producer."
Aziraphale seemed puzzled. His eyebrows furrowed and he wondered if they were going to do a news piece about his bookshop. "What may I help you with?"
"Have you ever heard of the T.V. show, 'Antiques Roadshow?" Mr. Harris asked, but before Aziraphale could answer, spoke again. "Oh I'm sure you have."
He nodded. Crowley had introduced him to television (and modern movies), so he was familiar with the programme that had presenters that explained what a guest had and its worth.
Grace Clarke spoke next, "We've heard of your knowledge of books and antiquities. So, we would like for you to join us on the Roadshow as an expert."
He knew that life was full of surprises, but this was definitely not the kind he was expecting.
"Y-you want me to join the programme? I'm flattered but…" Aziraphale started, but seeing their faces begin to fall, changed his reply. "I suppose that a day a week out of the bookshop wouldn't go amiss." He smiled reassuringly and added, "I'm sure I can make it work." The other two sighed in relief and thanked him profusely. Aziraphale was happy to have helped, but he couldn't help but feel a slight twinge of apprehension.
Mr. Harris grinned, and handed him a packet of papers. "Great. Please fill out this and we'll get back to you." He extended his hand again and they shook hands. "It will be a great pleasure working with you, Mr. Fell."
"L-likewise, I'm sure." Aziraphale replied, shaking hands with both, before the two left the shop. He watched the two as they walked away, reflecting on the conversation he had just had.
He sat heavily back into his chair at the desk and sighed. What had he gotten himself into? As an angel, he was supposed to stay out of sight of the populace or at least that was the order when he was under the management of the Archangels. Now free of their grasp, surely it would do no harm, right? He had to discuss this with Crowley.
Luckily for him, a sleek black Bentley pulled up to the curve and not long after, Crowley came strolling into the bookshop. "Hey Angel, what's-" he stopped at Aziraphale's thoughtful expression. "What's going on, Angel? Did they…." he pointed up, "contact you?"
Much to his surprise, Aziraphale let out a little laugh. "Not at all. In fact, you'd be surprised who just visited my bookshop. Have a seat, I'll pour us some wine."
After doing so, each taking a swig of wine, Aziraphale grinned but shook his head. "You know that program about antiques and such we were watching last week?" Crowley nodded and he continued. "Well the producer came into the shop today and offered me a position on the show as a presenter."
Crowley's mouth went agape for a moment. "They what?"
Aziraphale seemed a little taken aback by this response. "T-they offered to make me one of the presenters on the show."
Now it was Crowley's turn to laugh, nearly spilling his 60 year old wine on the old couch.
"Really, Crowley!" Azirphale snapped.
"I'm not laughing at you, angel." Crowley gasped between laughs, "just at the whole situation."
Aziraphale looked down at the wine glass. "You-you don't think I would be suited for it, do you?"
Crowley stopped laughing all at once and then gave his friend a sincere look. "I think you'd be damn good at it, angel."
Aziraphale's whole face lit up, "You really think so, Crowley?"
Crowley nodded, "I mean, it's not like you don't know the worth of all of this like the back of your hand." He said, while gesturing to the bookstore's contents.
Aziraphale brought his chair up to the couch and handed the former demon the packet of papers he was presented with.
Together, they leafed through them and discussed what turned out to be a contract for the BBC. There was the fact that he would be required to take a train (at his own expense) to the presentation site, but Aziraphale shrugged at that. "That's hardly an obstacle."
Then there was the matter of the presenters being 'pro bono' or not being paid for their work, but rather in their reputation, though they are given a free breakfast and lunch for that day's work.
"I'm an angel, compensation is not in my nature. As to my reputation as a bookseller, well…I could always change my hours to be even more complex. I don't want anyone buying my books." Aziraphale returned with a wrinkle of his nose." He seemed to hesitate. "I don't know Crowley….I'm…I don't think I'd be very good in front of a camera."
The demon shrugged, 'How many times have you presented something to those stuffy angels up there?" he pointed up. "And I seem to recall a time when you did a dance with a bunch of gents and didn't seem the least bit nervous."
Aziraphale blushed, "That's neither here nor there, Crowley." He glanced over at his friend. "Do you really think I can do this?"
" 'Course you can! Just carry that confidence that you have when you're trying to keep someone from buying one of your books." Crowley grinned. "Besides, you've been looking for something to do now that you're….unemployed, right? This could be just the thing."
Confident now, Aziraphale signed the contract with a flourish and a grin at his friend.
In the week leading up to his first show, Aziraphale and Crowley actually practiced his presentation of antiques. They even went as far as filming it on Crowley's phone and replaying it to work out what small things that Aziraphale needed to work on such as a small nervous stutter at the beginning.
The day soon arrived, and Aziraphale took a train to Hereford, Wales, his excitement and nervousness building as they arrived in the small city. He trekked to Eastnor Castle, where the crew from the BBC were all awaiting the beginning of their day. He was introduced to the other experts who all greeted him with a welcome he never felt amongst angels in Heaven.
After a light breakfast, they were given a tour of the castle. Aziraphale was genuinely impressed by the splendor within, as some castles in Wales were mere ruins. He had been in existence for a long time, living among the people of this country for millennia. But it always struck him that finding a city or fortress that was 'new' to him brought him great delight and wonder.
After this, Aziraphale was shown to his booth where he would be doing his appraising. He shifted slightly in his seat, and took a deep breath. He could sense the cameras nearby and it made him tense slightly.
"You're going to do great, Mr. Fell." Grace Clarke re-assured him with a hand on his shoulder.
"Thank you." Aziraphale answered in turn, but it did not help the butterflies that were still fluttering in his stomach.
When the cameras began to roll, the first guest entered his queue. Aziraphale looked up to see….Crowley. Well, sort of. It was Crowley in all of his demonic form (dark clothes, red hair) but his sunglasses were surprisingly gone, and now he sported brown eyes instead of his slitted yellow ones. He put an ancient looking book on the table that Aziraphale recognized, because it was from his shop. Aziraphale looked like he was about to say something but already saw the look in Crowley's face as 'Just do your presentation, Angel. I'll explain later.'
"So, where did you get this from?" Aziraphale started, trying to keep his tone level while speaking to his friend.
"I got it off a friend in 1981 for doing him a favor." Crowley answered, looking nonchalant. "He gave it to me because he knew how much I like astronomy."
Aziraphale remembered then, that he had indeed given this book to Crowley for going in place of him to tempt some rock star that he had never heard of. In return, he had given this book to his friend in thanks.
"Well, it's a beautiful book. The Amateur Astronomer by Sir Patrick Moore was published in 1978. He was born in 1923 in Middlesex. He joined the Royal Air Force Volunteer Reserve during World War II, He went to Canada under the British Commonwealth Air Training Plan and completed training at RAF Moncton in New Brunswick as a navigator and pilot. After the war, he refused to go to Cambridge under a grant. He studied astronomy. He wrote his first book, Guide to the Moon , which was later retitled Patrick Moore on the Moon in 1952 and was published the following year. His second book was a translation of a science book written by a French author since he was fluent in the language." His lips turned up slightly at this. "He wrote several young adult novels, created a reflector telescope, and gained a keen interest in the far side of the Moon. Your novel 'The Amatuer Astronomer' is a first edition, though it's not worth more than…" he paused for dramatic effect. "300 pounds. But it's very nice. Thank you for bringing it in!"
"A pleasure." Crowley murmured.
Thankfully, the rest of the day was easy as he spoke to the throng of guests in the queue. Soon, the queue had dispersed, and he was alone in the lobby. He breathed a sigh of relief, thankful that the day had been relatively stress-free. He smiled as he got up to leave.
"You did wonderfully today, Mr. first outing." said Mr. Harris, patting him on his back. "See you next week!"
Aziraphale smiled and thanked him for the kind words. He was glad he had taken the chance to try something new and was looking forward to the next session. He waved goodbye and went on his way.
"I can't believe you were in the queue, Crowley." Aziraphale complained while they waited for the programme to air that next Sunday.
"Crowley shrugged and said, "You don't get to be the number one fan without putting in the effort." Aziraphale smiled and nodded in agreement. They both settled in to watch the show.
Grace Clarke announced in front of the camera, "Today, we have someone new joining our roadshow family, Mr. A.Z. Fell. It's our pleasure to wish him good luck."
There were several segments when it was finally Aziraphale's turn for an appraisal. He had been nervous but prepared. He had worked hard and was confident that his performance was well done.
"You did really well, Angel. You should be proud of yourself," Crowley added with a smile.
"T-Thank you, Crowley," Aziraphale said with a slight blush. "It's thanks to you that I was prepared."
Crowley wrinkled his nose, then smirked. "Don't thank me, Angel. Just doing my job. Don't forget to tip your demon!"
"I shall!" Aziraphale exclaimed, popping up off the couch. "How about some 1934 Chateau Pontent-Canet?"* He puttered around gathering the bottles of wine and glasses. Once poured, the pair clinked their glasses together.
Several drinks in, Crowley asked, "Where are you going next week?"
Aziraphale's eyes rose to the ceiling, trying to remember as he got progressively drunker.
"Glosh-Glushusher-"Aziraphale slurred, then counted to ten and tried again. "Gloucestershire."
Crowley rolled his eyes. "Sounds like a boring destination."
"S'not!" Aziraphale whinged, nearly spilling his wine. "Goin' to Sudeley Castle & Gardens. S'nice."
"Boring old castle." Crowley muttered with another swig of wine. "Maybe I should make it more interesting. The Sound of Music on a loop would be fun…."
"Don't you dare, Crowley!"
The End