What are you doing?

by Sherlock River Hekate

All Crowley wanted was to bring Aziraphale some sweets, like he does most mornings. He didn't expect to find this.

Crowley strolled along the SoHo street, a coffee cup in one hand and a bag of pastries in the other. As he approached the bookshop, the dark red front door swung itself open to allow the demon to enter without having to juggle what he was holding.
As Crowley walked through the shop he kept an eye out for his angel, but he couldn't see him in the main part of the shop.

Calling out, Crowley walked through to the back of the shop.
"Morning Ang- What ARE you doing?!" he asked in shock.
Sitting in the back of the shop was Aziraphale, his coat hanging over a chair and his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The state of undress itself was surprising, but that wasn't all.
"Oh, hello dear," Aziraphale said, like nothing about the whole scenario was strange.
"Angel, what in someone's name are you doing?" he asked again.
"Oh this?" he asked, holding up the thing in his hands. "I found it in a box. Must have picked it up in the late 1800s."
"Ngk, uh, what were you doing in Hawaii?" Crowley asked, the coffee and pastries completely forgotten.
"You know, I don't rightly remember," Aziraphale said. "But oh, what have you got there dear?"
"Huh, what?" Crowley was still staring at the angel.
"That smells like," he wrinkled his nose like a rabbit for a moment.
"Oh, did you get me sfogliatelle?" the angel grinned. "Oh marvellous, you know I love those."
"You were playing the ukulele!" Crowley blurted out.
"Oh. Yes, well, sort of," Aziraphale said. He stood and placed the ukulele on the chair he had been sitting on and then walked over to where Crowley was still standing frozen in the doorway.
"You've taken your coat off. And rolled your sleeves up…" Crowley trailed off.
"Yes, dear."
"And you were playing the ukulele," he finished.
"Yes?" Aziraphale said. "Crowley, dear, are you quite alright?"
"Nghk."
Carefully, Aziraphale took the bag of pastries from the demon and placed it on a small table in the room. Then he steered the demon to the couch, which was there specifically for him.
Once he was sure that Crowley was safely seated on the couch, he went to his own chair. Now that he wasn't playing the instrument, Aziraphale rolled his sleeves down. The yellow demon eyes tracked the movement as pale hands rolled blue sleeves down over bare arms, eventually hiding them from view. When the sleeves were down and once more buttoned neatly, Crowley looked back up at the angel.
"Better now?" Aziraphale asked.
"Mmm," Crowley blinked rapidly. "Right, yes."
He looked down at his hands, now only holding the coffee cup which had enough sense to not spill.
"Where're the pastries? I brought pastries," he asked.
Aziraphale pointed to the table where the bag still sat.
"Right. Yea, I brought you pastries, angel. From that new shop," he said, trying to look like it wasn't a big thing.
"Well, thank you," Aziraphale said. He was wiggling in his seat, his mouth watering at the very thought of the sweet treats.
"Would you… care to share them with me?" Aziraphale asked.
"For you," he said.
"Well, I'd rather like to share them with you," Aziraphale said. "It was such a nice thing for you to do."
That did get a reaction from Crowley who growled.
"Not nice! What'd I tell you about four letter words?"
The angel just smiled serenely, collected the bag and sat down on the couch next to the demon.
"Well, either way, these are delicious," he said through a mouthful of sweet.

Pastries and coffee finished, Crowley turned his attention back to Aziraphale and that blasted instrument.
"I don't remember you going to Hawaii," Crowley said.
"Oh, it was only a quick trip. Over and back in a weekend, really," Aziraphale told him. "I think you were busy doing something in America at the time. Either way, it was such a small thing I didn't want to bother you with it."
"And you picked up a ukulele while you were there?" Crowley asked in confusion.
"Well, yes. You see there were so many people around playing them in the streets and they were making such beautiful music," Aziraphale explained. "I decided to pick one up myself."
The demon raised an eyebrow at him, lounging against the couch.
"So, how long have you been playing, angel?"
The angel averted his gaze, looking at the floor rather than his companion and fidgeted a little.
"Well, you see. The thing is..." he began.
"You can't actually play, can you?" Crowley laughed.
"It's not funny," Aziraphale pouted.
"Oh it very much is," Crowley disagreed. "It's just like you to pick something up when it's first been invented, and then forget about it for a century or two."
Aziraphale didn't reply, just huffing before standing and going to the chair he'd originally been seated in.
"Well if you're just going to mock me," he started.
"No, no angel," Crowley said quickly. "Do you have any music or anything?"
Wordlessly, Aziraphale pointed to a book that was down by the leg of the chair. It didn't take Crowley long to see why the angel was having so many problems.
"Can you read sheet music?" he asked.
"For piano, yes," Aziraphale said. "But this is nothing like a piano."
"Alright, well I think I know what'll help," Crowley told him.
The demon miracled some other papers and held them out.
"Why don't we start with Tab? It's a bit easier to sight read for someone who's never played a string instrument."
Aziraphale looked at him suspiciously.
"And how would you know all of this?" he asked.
"Angel, I play guitar. Ukulele, guitar, much the same really," he said. "Come on, pick up the ukulele and I'll show you."

Aziraphale was hesitant, but he did as Crowley asked and held the ukulele. His left hand curled around the neck and the right rested near the strings. Once he had done so, Crowley miracled himself a ukulele and sat on the floor opposite Aziraphale.
"Right, well the first thing is to position your hands comfortable," he said. "Twist the fingers so they rest on the four strings."
The demon curled his hand so that each of his fingers was sitting on a string and the angel mirrored him.
"Right, now what?"
"See these line?" Crowley pointed to the music on the floor. "Each line is a string."
Aziraphale nodded. "And the numbers?"
"Those are the frets."
"The what?"
"The frets, angel. That's what the bar things are called. See, this is the first fret, and then the bar and then the second fret and so on and so forth all the way down the neck of the ukulele."
Aziraphale watched Crowley's long fingers as he moved down the instrument.
"So, this is a one on the top line, so it means you press down on this string here."
Crowley tried to reach up and tap Aziraphale's instrument but it wasn't easy when he was on the floor and the angel was still sitting on a chair.
"Oh, sorry dear," Aziraphale said. "Would it be easier if I was sitting on the floor too?"
Before Crowley could actually respond, the angel had shuffled off the chair and was sitting cross legged on the floor facing the demon.
"Yea, that's yea," Crowley managed.
They looked at each other for a moment before Crowley shook his head quickly and looked back down at the sheet music. He was having trouble believing, after all that they had been through, they were here. He was sitting on the floor, in the back of the bookshop, with Aziraphale sitting on the floor across from him and he was teaching the angel how to play the ukulele of all things.
"Crowley?" Aziraphale prompted.
And Crowley realised that he'd disappeared into his own thoughts for a bit.
"Yea, sorry. Right, where were we?"
He looked at Aziraphale, but the angel's eager shining face didn't help the strange feeling.
"I can't get my fingers right," Aziraphale said sulkily.
Crowley reached across, adjusting the other's fingers so they sat on the strings.
"Now, just strum the strings," he instructed, putting his fingers back on his own strings and strumming.
Aziraphale copied, looking dubious, but his face lit up when it made a sound that wasn't akin to a drowning cat.

They spent a while going back and forth, Crowley demonstrating and Aziraphale copying. There was a thought at the back of the demon's mind that said 'surely he can't have this many issues moving his hands on the strings' but he also knew his angel and it was entirely possible that Aziraphale really did lack the coordination to move along the frets at times.
"Thank you, dear," Aziraphale said. "I'm sure I would have sat here all day trying to work it out if it wasn't for you and this Tab thing."
" 'ssss nothing," Crowley said, ducking his head.
"No, really." Aziraphale reached out and took Crowley's hand in his own. "Thank you. This has been a lot of fun."
The demon could feel his face flushing, and looking up at the angel's face only made his on hotter.
"You do so much for me," the angel continued on.
Crowley looked away from Aziraphale's face, and their joined hands. His eyes instead fell on the angel's bare arms, the sleeves of his pale blue shirt having been rolled up again at some point while they played.
"Ghk."
"Bringing me pastries and helping learn this instrument I picked up on a whim."
"Nnngh, 's nothin," Crowley struggled out.
"It really isn't," Aziraphale countered.
The demon swore he could feel his palms sweating, despite the fact it wasn't something his body needed to do. And surely his face was the colour of his hair by now.
"Aaaangel," Crowley whined.
"You really are the best hereditary enemy one could ask for," Aziraphale told him.
Crowley's head shot up, looking straight at Aziraphale . Who was smirking just a little at him.
"Oi, you bastard!" he said, pulling his hand from Aziraphale's grip. "See if I bring you nice things anymore."
"I jest, darling," Aziraphale chuckled. He stood carefully and placed the ukulele on the chair behind him.
"Now, I think a lovely lunch is in order," he said, offering his hand to Crowley.
"Sure, wherever you want to go, angel," Crowley replied as he took the hand and rose to his feet.
"You really are too good to me, though," Aziraphale said. He quickly kissed Crowley's cheek.
The demon knew he went as red as his hair this time, but rather than saying anything he just grumbled incomprehensively under his breath as Aziraphale led them out of the bookshop and down the road chattering all the time about where they were going to eat and what he was looking forward to.
The day hadn't been what Crowley was expecting when he walked into the book shop, but any day with his angel by his side was perfect by him.