Warlock had a very short attention span at first, so the tutoring sessions could only really go on so long. Still, Crowley and Aziraphale (or rather, Mr. Harrison and Mr. Cortese) were able to teach him all manner of subjects. At one point Aziraphale asked why Crowley was so keen on mathematics and the demon had answered that it was another thing that Hell assumed was his responsibility, not understanding that humans were rather bent on making things more difficult for themselves for no good reason. All it meant was that Crowley had to acquire a basic understanding of mathematics in case he was ever asked about it. Luckily Aziraphale was fairly good at mathematics himself and able to help on that front.

Despite being arguably better at sciences than the demon, Aziraphale taught Warlock about subjects that he was personally more fond of, such as music, art, and literature, of course. Except that, quite without realizing it, they had both rubbed off on each other's lessons just a little bit over time. Crowley would, on rare occasions, teach Warlock about astronomy. It was innocent at first, since astronomy was connected to science and by extension connected loosely to mathematics. Unbeknownst to him, his lessons began to lean more towards the boundless beauty of the cosmos than they probably should have been.

Meanwhile, Aziraphale was prone to slightly darker influences as well. Against his better judgement, he began teaching Warlock about some of the darker aspects of literature. Edgar Allan Poe ended up being a fun lesson, and the angel didn't think until later that it might have been a poor choice to expose a young child to such dark literary elements. But he didn't pick up on some of the other darker themes that were not all that uncommon in his lessons.

Neither of the supernatural entities seemed to notice these subtle changes, for that matter. Indeed, the only thing Crowley found noteworthy about Warlock's fascination with Edgar Allan Poe was that it gave him a certain fascination with cats. By extension, he hoped, that would mean he would be less inclined to keep a Hell Hound for a pet.

And, in time, they worked together to teach Warlock one of their mutual favorite subjects: history. Granted, they had a wealth of mostly useless information about history, such as some of the finest restaurants in ancient Greece, or the magnificent hanging gardens of Babylon, or even some of the finer places to get a drink throughout the ancient world, and weirdly enough it wasn't exactly the sort of information that is normally relevant to a small child some two thousand years later.

But that is exactly why they conveniently had history textbooks, which the two would often laugh at together in their spare time. History was, after all, written by the victors, leaving much fine culture far behind. But they had to teach a modern understanding of history, so the textbooks would have to do.

Crowley obviously favored teaching Warlock about some of the evil dictators and brutal villains of history, while Aziraphale honed in on some of the more inspiring and kinder moments of the ancient world...which ended up being relatively few and far between, but he did what he could. It took several weeks, but the two eventually settled into something of a rhythm with their teachings. And, in time, they began to forget all about their previous hardships.

Crowley was beginning to enjoy their brief time together again, perhaps too much now that he was sure Aziraphale wasn't as comfortable with the idea of them being together in any way. He wanted things back to the way they were, with them being comfortable and trusting, and able to spend time together without it meaning anything. Of course, he did want it to mean something, but it was clear that the angel was once again trying to take things as slowly as inhumanly possible, and Crowley was cautious to avoid shattering this fragile bridge of peace that had formed between them.

That was exactly why it was such a surprise when Aziraphale approached him one moment with an entirely unreadable expression on his face soon after they had dismissed Warlock for the day. His expression seemed...apologetic? Nervous? Dejected? Crowley couldn't quite put his finger on whatever it was, but it probably meant something good, or terrible.

"Crowley," the angel addressed cautiously, the seriousness of his tone perhaps hinting that this conversation was going to be leaning toward the latter. Crowley braced himself for the worst as Aziraphale continued, "I wanted to, er...apologize. For how I treated you, a while ago."

The demon's eyes narrowed the slightest bit, but he tried to remain mostly expressionless as he responded brusquely, "Nothing to apologize for. You thought we were getting a bit too...friendly, since we've only known each other since the beginning of time." There was far more venom in his tone than he had intended, and he could only hope that the other wouldn't notice.

"Yes, yes, I know," Aziraphale said with some frustration as he fidgeted with his hands behind his back. "I may have reacted a bit rashly and I would like to make it up to you, if you'd be amenable."

Crowley's spirits lifted just the slightest bit. "What did you have in mind?"

Aziraphale's lip twitched as he tried to shrug nonchalantly and said carefully, "If you're free...we could go out for lunch."

Aziraphale thought that it was a pretty reasonable suggestion, considering. He thought he even saw the demon perk up a bit at the idea. Then again, it was surprisingly difficult to read his expression when he was wearing contacts as opposed to his usual sunglasses.

"Well," Crowley said with an answering shrug, "I think I could spare an hour or two."

Except that an hour or two quite naturally turned into the better part of a day.

Currently, Crowley was getting out of the Bentley and following Aziraphale into his bookshop in the late afternoon with the promise of another night of drinking and nonsensical conversation. There was a little contented smile on his face as he couldn't help but feel that things were finally starting to–just a little bit–return to the way they used to be.

Lunch had quickly gone from somewhat awkward and forced to the usual nature of the meetings that they had previously enjoyed up until a little over a year ago. What's better is that Aziraphale seemed to be enjoying himself quite a lot, and Crowley noted with relief that it was almost as if nothing had happened between them.

Almost.

The angel showed no sign of things being any different from the way they were before. It was nice...at first. But Crowley had a growing feeling in his chest that gnawed at him the more time they spent together and reminded him of why they had separated in the first place. The fact was, he was beginning to feel once more that there was something else between them and he was entirely certain he wasn't imagining it. But he also knew that Aziraphale wouldn't appreciate a fresh visit to that old conversation. Truth be told, that thought stung quite a bit more than it should have.

Heaven, he didn't even know how he liked Aziraphale himself. He couldn't bear the thought of ruining this fragile friendship he had only just gotten back when Aziraphale had reacted so terribly the last time he had merely pointed out that they enjoyed each other's company. Even though the angel clearly knew that there was something more between them.

Did Crowley even want to be anything more than friends? No, he couldn't even let himself consider anything like that when he was still battling with Aziraphale to confess their friendship to begin with. It was much easier said than done, even though anyone with eyes–or even possibly some rather perceptive blind people–could easily tell how much the angel enjoyed their time together. And he had invited Crowley entirely of his own accord. Maybe...?

No, he didn't dare get ahead of himself, not now that their relationship was finally on the mend.

He shook away the troubling roller coaster of his thoughts as Aziraphale held the door of the bookshop open for him. He stepped inside and took a good, long look at the space and gave a small smile. It was far too messy for his taste, as usual, and it told him that it really hadn't changed all that much in the time he'd been gone. It was good to be back.

Although he did notice one small difference before the door even had time to close behind Aziraphale.

The angel felt heat rising to his cheeks against his will as he stepped into the shop and saw Crowley standing there, twirling a black feather quill in his slender fingers with a knowing look on his face.

"How long've you had this, I wonder?" Crowley asked mischievously as he inspected the quill in the warm light that poured into the room from the window.

There was no use trying to pretend the feather had come from some bird; Crowley, despite his teasing, was no doubt very aware that it was one of his very own feathers that he had left littered about the shop that one night. But why was Aziraphale so nervous for him to discover it? It was only a writing utensil, really.

One that happened to be made from a rather personal...keepsake from a friend. Oh, there was no good word for turning a demon feather into a quill that held a good deal of emotional attachment for him after a year, all without his prior knowledge.

"Well, I was in need of a pen of sorts shortly after you left, then. I, er, uh...the shop was riddled with them, you see," Aziraphale explained, hoping that despite his hesitation it sounded somewhat convincing.

Crowley smirked as he set the quill down, then leaned his hip against the desk and crossed his arms as he said, "Funny, I would have thought you would have at least one pen on hand. Or you could easily run to a shop down the road and buy one. For no trouble at all. It would certainly take less time than crafting a new one from scratch, I would think."

He was more than a little pleased with himself to know by the look on Aziraphale's face and the way he fidgeted uncomfortably at the suggestion that he had stumbled on the right idea. At the same time he felt a pang of sadness. This just further proved that the angel had some attachment to him at least, but continued with the charade he had entertained for six thousand years. Still he held the cheeky grin on his face, knowing this at the very least confirmed that his feelings were not entirely unreciprocated after all.

Crowley continued, "And I know you like to keep things a little on the messier...lived in side, but after our little set-to I would have thought you would have rid this place of any sign of me."

Aziraphale looked rather miserable as he said, "Oh, all right! I did some thinking and I came to realize that I missed you, all right? But you never tried to contact me again and, oh, I don't know, I wasn't about to make a big deal of it. I thought it would be best if I could try to forget all about you."

Obviously that plan hadn't worked very well for him since Crowley now stood in the middle of his bookshop once again, but he wasn't about to make that point when Aziraphale had stirred up something much more troubling.

The demon scoffed, "I never reached out?" It took him a moment to realize that Aziraphale would be waiting for an explanation. "Well, I...I kept hoping for a while that you'd still turn up. So I was there...with the car. For our meetings."

It felt awkward to finally confess it, like he hadn't realized until now how desperate it really sounded out loud. He also didn't realize how much it bothered him until he said it aloud. He felt the slightest hint of a blush creeping into his own cheeks as the angel's only immediate reaction was to form a surprised "O" with his mouth.

Aziraphale felt more the fool now, though. How long had Crowley waited there, he wondered. And all that time he had wanted to go, but his own stubbornness had warned against it! And was the demon feeling any emotional turmoil over it? He realized then just how badly he wanted to actually know exactly where they stood with each other.

The one time Crowley had tried to talk about their friendship–and indeed he was sure that's what it was at the time–he had suffered for it. And now, again, it felt much too soon to talk about such things. Even now his angelic loyalty was on edge at the thought of being friends with a demon, and he wanted nothing to do with such a discussion. He hoped to leave the matter for now, until he could hopefully wait to address it when he was ready.

"Well, I'm sorry," Aziraphale said finally, lamely, flashing Crowley a genuinely meaningful and apologetic smile. "And I'm sorry if the, er, quill makes you uncomfortable in any way. I can toss it out if you like. I suppose it would have been common courtesy to at least ask first."

"'S okay," Crowley said, making a face as he reached into his pocket and struggled to fish something out. "Makes us square. Though as a demon maybe it's fine for me to be hypocritical."

In a moment Aziraphale saw why he was rambling in such a self-conscious manner. He dug around in his pocket until he finally managed to pull out a single white feather. It was messy and unkempt now, and the tip was bent and crooked from being cramped in his too-small pocket for who knows how long, but it was undoubtedly Aziraphale's own feather from that same night.

Crowley caught him staring at it in shock and his blush deepened, feeling sure that the look was a negative one. "Nngh, like you said...probably should have asked. Only fair and all. 'S a little weird, I know."

"No, no, it's quite all right," Aziraphale said honestly.

Truth be told it was oddly flattering that all this time he had worried that the demon had moved on so easily, and yet here was his proof to the contrary. Maybe he should have seen it as a little odd. In any case, he was certain that he wasn't ready to face Crowley's true feelings about him, or even his own feelings for that matter, but he rested assured for now that the demon had only the best of intentions in mind. Not that there had ever been any real doubt on that front, but it was an easier thing to assume was the main problem than the real truth: that he was undoubtedly experiencing some feelings for the friend he should have considered a mortal enemy.

Crowley tucked the angel feather back into the cramped pocket without another thought, feeling both ashamed and a little bit relieved at finally confessing what had been weighing on his mind for over a year. And he felt just a little bit better about where he stood with the angel...wherever that was. He leaned against the desk a little more heavily as he regarded Aziraphale thoughtfully.

"What would you like to do now?" the demon asked in an attempt to avert the mood away from their uncomfortable reminiscing.

Aziraphale was all for the change as he suggested teasingly, "What would you say to 'quite extraordinary amounts of alcohol'?"

"I'd say 'lead the way'," Crowley answered with a devilish grin.