It was getting dark, not that Crowley had a good grasp on what time it was. Sunset. He really didn't feel like going home and in recent memory those days he didn't feel like going home had been spent with Bill instead, but Bill was gone.
Yesterday he had tried studying for an exam, resulting in his books getting tossed, ripped and partially burned by his idiot brothers, who called him a nerd. He hadn't gotten any sleep in, much less any studying, which meant that today during the exam he'd had no focus and possibly even less knowledge. He knew he'd failed that one and it felt so unfair. He knew life wasn't fair, but it was one of those days where it bothered him. He'd fallen asleep in the last two lessons and gotten lectured by the teachers. Told that he was throwing his life away and that he just didn't care enough and what was he supposed to say to that? He'd elected to say nothing and he'd sat through detention, eyes burning.
He didn't feel like hanging with the mates from school or with Bill's friends after, all in their game of proving to each other how little they cared. Easy not to care when most of them had parents to bail them out or, frankly, too little brain or sense to know why they ought to care.
And, no, he didn't want to go home either. Bound to be loud, more jeering, more pretending that shit didn't matter. Crowley had walked around for a while before realising he really had nowhere to go. So he sat down on the side of the road, head in his hands. He reached up to take off the sunglasses, because he didn't want to have to clean tear tracks off of them afterwards.
Aziraphale was walking him later than he had planned, already planning to deal with an earful from his siblings and prolonged backache from the sheer weight of his backpack but that was just the way it was. He had to get all he needed for the next semester (and one or two 'fun' reads he could pass off as essential reading) while finishing up this one. He was so happy this year. He had been homeschooled for all of primary, did half days for the start of secondary at some halfway school thing and now he was finally a full time student. This was his first year and it was -- mixed.
He loved the learning, the classrooms, the science and the literature lessons but the other kids? Well, they didn't like him. Of course they didn't, he was the strange Mormon who's guardians wouldn't let him do sex ed or music. Nevertheless, he was happy.
So far, he had amazing grades, the teachers loved him and he had only been beaten up about four times.
As he walked home with his book haul, he looked around cautiously. It was Late. Proper late. Almost nine! And he didn't fancy being robbed or attacked by some escaped loon who might have a knife. He heard all about London knife crime. Granted, that was inner city but still - council estates had dangers too.
He paused as a figure caught his eye. Sitting on the sidewalk, head in hands, looking utterly miserable. Well. That was awkward - he knew that fellow. It was Crowley. Quite the knave but that didn't mean he couldn't get upset. Unlikely though, given all he knew. Maybe it was an accident? He could be hurt. So was he allowed to leave? Seemed wrong to walk away. What if he was injured? He didn't seem to notice Aziraphale so maybe he was in agony or in shock or panic! It was so hard to tell in the dark.
He pulled out his pocket flashlight and turned it on, trying to check in on Crowley. "Uh, hello. Do you need an ambulance?"
"No! Why would I be needing an ambulance, what's wrong with you?" Crowley looked up to make sure he wasn't mistaken in thinking the voice sounded familiar and he groaned. Great. Just what he needed. Well. He supposed it was better than some other options, but still not what he wanted to deal with right now. "How about you just piss off?"
Maybe that was too lewd for Aziraphale to understand. How could he tell someone to fuck off in Mormon? "Get lost."
He reached up to rub at his eyes, then unfolded his sunglasses so he could get them back on. He knew Aziraphale by reputation, same as everyone. He didn't recall ever interacting with him before and he'd definitely not want to be seen with him. "Isn't it time to pray and sleep yet, choir boy?"
"I'm not a choir boy, actually. I quit when I was 12 to focus on studies." Aziraphale clarified as he fumbled with his torch and turned it off, slipping it in his inside pocket and awkwardly approaching Crowley. Well, he couldn't leave him here when he looked hurt and/or sad. That wasn't very good of him. Only a soul lacking moral fibre would just walk away.
"Though it is awfully late you shouldn't really be out. From now until midnight is the peak time for murders." Or so he had heard from his family. He looked around curiously and then back at Crowley.
"If I walk away, I would be culpable. I-I will keep you company." There. Safety in numbers. They could both get knifed together. Jolly good. "Are you okay?"
Crowley rolled his eyes before sliding his sunglasses back on, looking at Aziraphale and trying to make sense of him in any way, shape or form. It was quite the challenge. "So, what? Murderers all go to bed by midnight?" He'd have really liked to know who provided the numbers for that statistic, because that just seemed off.
"The hell would you be culpable. Unless you provoke me to murder you, I reckon that could be blamed on you." For how embarrassingly annoying he was being. "Are you okay?"
He mimicked Aziraphale in an exaggerated fashion, then sniffed as he shook his head. "Who asks that? Do I look like I'm okay? Do I look like I want to talk about it?"
Clearly this boy was mocking him, of course he was, but he was not about to abandon his post. He was providing a service - safety. And if a murderer came, he could blind them with his flashlight. "Don't be silly, they don't all sleep... I mean, I'm sure some do but not all of them. I'm just saying, most people murder between those hours and this is quite the dodgy council estate." Crowley should know, he lived here and he's dodgy.
Or maybe the dodginess cancelled out other dodginess.
"I guess you don't look like you do but I thought I would ask. It's only polite. I'm sure whatever it is, is-is a temporary setback at most." He smiled down at Crowley, trying his best. "Come on, buck up. It can't be all bad."
"Yeah? You know a lot of uplifting stories of us dodgy boys from the dodgy council estate turning out all right?" He doubted that, wouldn't fit in with the fearmongering rhetoric. Besides, Crowley lived here and didn't know uplifting stories. The opposite, he could tell plenty of stories on that. "Anyway, you better watch your mouth. This is my dodgy council estate."
He didn't particularly seem as if he wanted to stand up for the place's reputation, but still. At least he had half-heartedly objected. "What are you doing here, among us dodgy folk? Want to try and get your pockets picked? Better be careful, I hear Fagin's boys start their rounds just after dark."
He assumed an Oliver Twist reference would land better than some of the other things he could think of.
"I was getting books at the library and got distracted. I started learning French and totally lost track of time. You know how it is." Aziraphale shrugged off his bag and set it on the ground with a heavy thud. "And, uh, apologies. I wasn't -- I didn't mean to be rude. It's just, well, I was robbed here before, actually."
He was younger then and they found he had nothing so they took his watch. It was a nice watch too. Father had been most angry.
Crouching down, Aziraphale opened his bag to show Crowley all the books. "I am very late to get home, I know, but the library was selling some old books for charity so I used my wages to get them." And now he had about six books haphazardly crammed in his bag. And yes, he looked very happy with himself, he grinned at Crowley entirely unabashed. "They still have some left if you want some. Very reasonable price. The most expensive was a pound."
"I don't do books." As of yesterday, not even schoolbooks. Honestly, he should have just gone with gone with Bill. What difference did it make, failing his miserable way through a couple more years of school? Crowley shook his head, just looking at those books Aziraphale was lugging around. Explained why he was walking so slowly, he supposed. "You're going to break your back, carrying all that."
Quite the dedication to books. What a nerd. Yet his enthusiasm was, in a strange way, endearing. "Where do you live? Far from here?"
"Not really. I'm ten minutes away, just passed the Tesco's express. It's not so bad, as long as I go slow." Aziraphale informed Crowley with a smile as he redid up his bag and looked at the other boy. "I'm sorry if I bothered you, I just wanted to--"
"Hey, what are you boys doing?!" Some lady across the street yelled out from the window.
Aziraphale turned around and then tried to smile, wanting to remove her fear and reassure her. "We're just chatting! We're not in a dangerous gang, I promise!"
"Are you dealing drugs?!"
"Who's dealing drugs?" That would be her husband, who was peering out the window too.
"He is! From his bag. It's that blasted gang again."
"I'm going to call the police!"
"No, no! No police! It's just books!" Aziraphale yelled out, still hoping to talk them down.
"We aren't dealing. We're just cooking meth," Crowley assured her, while finally getting to his feet. He ignored the chatter from above and grabbed Aziraphale by the wrist. He knew the type, they were definitely actually going to call the cops on them. Hardly anything new for him, but he had a feeling Aziraphale would be much less used to it.
So he tugged him along when he started running, the woman yelling after them. "HOOLIGANS!"
Here he was, running from the cops with the Mormon boy. Crowley had to laugh, he couldn't help it. This was hysterical.
Aziraphale ran with Crowley, struggling to get his bag on properly as he ran, hurrying as fast as he could. Were the cops really coming? Was he in danger? He did nothing wrong! That was hardly fair. Though he assumed little was fair when a crazy women, likely neighbourhood watch, was on the case.
As they finally got off the council estate and down the road into an area he had never been before, Aziraphale staggered to a halt and bent double. He was so not used to running.
"They thought we were drug deals!" Aziraphale was aghast. "I most certainly am not!"
"Don't sweat it. They'd have known you aren't one once they got a good look at you and I ain't carrying anything either today." Which did imply that he had before, but whatever. He didn't mind Aziraphale thinking he was dodgy, he rather felt there was no changing that anyway. And it wasn't as if it was wrong. "Honestly, we're lucky she didn't just think we were whoring."
Or maybe he just wanted to scandalise Aziraphale a bit more.
I really need a smoke and I'm knackered but I don't have any money so whatever. Just gonna do it and then sleep.
They said they had to move me cause I'm 18 and I have a behaviour order against me so that means blah blah blah, new location, new contract. I told them to shove it up their arse.
Crowley?
Nah, he's solid. Good boy. Good boy playing bad boy so everyone leaves him alone.
Those kind of contracts are easily appealed. They don't actually care that much once they've tried and failed anyway, odds are you'd never even be bothered over it.
Then what's he doing hanging around a fucker like you?
Odds are but if I refuse the contract, I get no funding. Which is great. They get to fuck over my life one last time. Dunno what to do for cash or where I'm gonna live. Maybe I'll kip in the ASDA, it's 24/7.
I dunno. I always gave him stuff and let him crash with me when his brothers were being shitheads.
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thearrangement2023-07-05 05:49 pm
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Yesterday he had tried studying for an exam, resulting in his books getting tossed, ripped and partially burned by his idiot brothers, who called him a nerd. He hadn't gotten any sleep in, much less any studying, which meant that today during the exam he'd had no focus and possibly even less knowledge. He knew he'd failed that one and it felt so unfair. He knew life wasn't fair, but it was one of those days where it bothered him. He'd fallen asleep in the last two lessons and gotten lectured by the teachers. Told that he was throwing his life away and that he just didn't care enough and what was he supposed to say to that? He'd elected to say nothing and he'd sat through detention, eyes burning.
He didn't feel like hanging with the mates from school or with Bill's friends after, all in their game of proving to each other how little they cared. Easy not to care when most of them had parents to bail them out or, frankly, too little brain or sense to know why they ought to care.
And, no, he didn't want to go home either. Bound to be loud, more jeering, more pretending that shit didn't matter. Crowley had walked around for a while before realising he really had nowhere to go. So he sat down on the side of the road, head in his hands. He reached up to take off the sunglasses, because he didn't want to have to clean tear tracks off of them afterwards.
Pretty pathetic, crying out here all alone.
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He loved the learning, the classrooms, the science and the literature lessons but the other kids? Well, they didn't like him. Of course they didn't, he was the strange Mormon who's guardians wouldn't let him do sex ed or music. Nevertheless, he was happy.
So far, he had amazing grades, the teachers loved him and he had only been beaten up about four times.
As he walked home with his book haul, he looked around cautiously. It was Late. Proper late. Almost nine! And he didn't fancy being robbed or attacked by some escaped loon who might have a knife. He heard all about London knife crime. Granted, that was inner city but still - council estates had dangers too.
He paused as a figure caught his eye. Sitting on the sidewalk, head in hands, looking utterly miserable. Well. That was awkward - he knew that fellow. It was Crowley. Quite the knave but that didn't mean he couldn't get upset. Unlikely though, given all he knew. Maybe it was an accident? He could be hurt. So was he allowed to leave? Seemed wrong to walk away. What if he was injured? He didn't seem to notice Aziraphale so maybe he was in agony or in shock or panic! It was so hard to tell in the dark.
He pulled out his pocket flashlight and turned it on, trying to check in on Crowley. "Uh, hello. Do you need an ambulance?"
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Maybe that was too lewd for Aziraphale to understand. How could he tell someone to fuck off in Mormon? "Get lost."
He reached up to rub at his eyes, then unfolded his sunglasses so he could get them back on. He knew Aziraphale by reputation, same as everyone. He didn't recall ever interacting with him before and he'd definitely not want to be seen with him. "Isn't it time to pray and sleep yet, choir boy?"
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"Though it is awfully late you shouldn't really be out. From now until midnight is the peak time for murders." Or so he had heard from his family. He looked around curiously and then back at Crowley.
"If I walk away, I would be culpable. I-I will keep you company." There. Safety in numbers. They could both get knifed together. Jolly good. "Are you okay?"
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"The hell would you be culpable. Unless you provoke me to murder you, I reckon that could be blamed on you." For how embarrassingly annoying he was being. "Are you okay?"
He mimicked Aziraphale in an exaggerated fashion, then sniffed as he shook his head. "Who asks that? Do I look like I'm okay? Do I look like I want to talk about it?"
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Or maybe the dodginess cancelled out other dodginess.
"I guess you don't look like you do but I thought I would ask. It's only polite. I'm sure whatever it is, is-is a temporary setback at most." He smiled down at Crowley, trying his best. "Come on, buck up. It can't be all bad."
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He didn't particularly seem as if he wanted to stand up for the place's reputation, but still. At least he had half-heartedly objected. "What are you doing here, among us dodgy folk? Want to try and get your pockets picked? Better be careful, I hear Fagin's boys start their rounds just after dark."
He assumed an Oliver Twist reference would land better than some of the other things he could think of.
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He was younger then and they found he had nothing so they took his watch. It was a nice watch too. Father had been most angry.
Crouching down, Aziraphale opened his bag to show Crowley all the books. "I am very late to get home, I know, but the library was selling some old books for charity so I used my wages to get them." And now he had about six books haphazardly crammed in his bag. And yes, he looked very happy with himself, he grinned at Crowley entirely unabashed. "They still have some left if you want some. Very reasonable price. The most expensive was a pound."
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Quite the dedication to books. What a nerd. Yet his enthusiasm was, in a strange way, endearing. "Where do you live? Far from here?"
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"Hey, what are you boys doing?!" Some lady across the street yelled out from the window.
Aziraphale turned around and then tried to smile, wanting to remove her fear and reassure her. "We're just chatting! We're not in a dangerous gang, I promise!"
"Are you dealing drugs?!"
"Who's dealing drugs?" That would be her husband, who was peering out the window too.
"He is! From his bag. It's that blasted gang again."
"I'm going to call the police!"
"No, no! No police! It's just books!" Aziraphale yelled out, still hoping to talk them down.
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So he tugged him along when he started running, the woman yelling after them. "HOOLIGANS!"
Here he was, running from the cops with the Mormon boy. Crowley had to laugh, he couldn't help it. This was hysterical.
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As they finally got off the council estate and down the road into an area he had never been before, Aziraphale staggered to a halt and bent double. He was so not used to running.
"They thought we were drug deals!" Aziraphale was aghast. "I most certainly am not!"
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Or maybe he just wanted to scandalise Aziraphale a bit more.
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its bill
whats up?
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don't tease me, you dick
you know which bill. how many bills text you as much as me?
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what do you want, Bill who texts a lot?
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Walking back to Soho.
I'm tired. Need some company. Maybe someone smart to tell me what to do.
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why are you coming back?
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My mates are there. I like it there. Like the scene, like the place, like the fucking ASDA near where I lived. I picked it, it's mine.
I want it back.
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you've got your birthday coming up, doubt they'll bother again
I met your mate the other day, the younger one with the dark glasses
dodgy kid, I'm guessing
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They said they had to move me cause I'm 18 and I have a behaviour order against me so that means blah blah blah, new location, new contract. I told them to shove it up their arse.
Crowley?
Nah, he's solid. Good boy. Good boy playing bad boy so everyone leaves him alone.
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Those kind of contracts are easily appealed. They don't actually care that much once they've tried and failed anyway, odds are you'd never even be bothered over it.
Then what's he doing hanging around a fucker like you?
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Odds are but if I refuse the contract, I get no funding. Which is great. They get to fuck over my life one last time. Dunno what to do for cash or where I'm gonna live. Maybe I'll kip in the ASDA, it's 24/7.
I dunno. I always gave him stuff and let him crash with me when his brothers were being shitheads.
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They always want to control you like that. Money, contacts, all that. You're stronger than that.
He was wingmanning you, so you got a good mate for a change.
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