Aziraphale and Crowley returned to Soho, after parting ways with Adam and Yeshua.

They found a red ribbon and a small envelope tacked to the door of the bookshop, above the closed sign, and they exchanged a look before Aziraphale carefully detached the envelope like it might explode into glitter confetti, or something equally unpleasant, at any moment.

The note inside read, simply:

Congratulations on your engagement.

With love,

-Adam & Yeshua.

There was a little sketch of a halo with demon horns at the bottom.

They exchanged another look while Aziraphale fumbled with the keys, and they walked into the shop.

"Oh," Aziraphale said with a little gasp, as he took in the renovations. "This is really quite nice, actually. And, there are empty shelves."

He went over to one of them, and ran his hands along it. There was a shelf running the length of each of the walls, with another two freestanding islands of bookshelves in the middle- the ends of these rounded in an aesthetically pleasing curve with nooks for displays. Each of them had several smaller sliding shelves fixed to the front. The wood gleamed with a warm, rosy-gold finish. Despite how organized and professional the new shelving made the collection of books look, the furniture and table lamps had been arranged in the kind of haphazard, lived in, way that still made it feel cozy.

Aziraphale slid one of the shelf extensions on its rollers, and it moved effortlessly. "He might have asked permission first, but I suppose I can admit that Yeshua was right. This is an improvement." Whatever he might be admitting to, there was a begrudging tone in Aziraphale's voice.

"If he'd asked, you would have said no." Crowley pointed out. He walked along, browsing the shelves idly. "They've put all your cookbooks down here as well." He stopped short and picked up a book. "I'm pretty sure you didn't have any of these though."

Aziraphale came over. "No, I certainly did not."

"Outdated books of obsolete computer coding from the 80s? Agricultural statistics from the 17th century? The Proper Usage of 69 Common Household Products." Crowley raised a brow at that knowingly. "Adam's idea of a joke?"

Aziraphale snorted and picked up one volume, showing it to Crowley. "The History of the Domestication of the Bactrian Camel. I'd say Yeshua was in on it as well."

Crowley attempted to slide the shelf to the side, but it was stuck fast, unmoving. "Not up to Yeshua's usual standards of construction either."

Aziraphale added his weight to the shelf, but it still didn't move. "I think the rollers are jammed."

Crowley gave a little wiggle of his fingers, and had to reach out an arm to keep Aziraphale from falling over, as the shelf abruptly slid free. Beneath was a solid wall Oscar Wilde—none of Aziraphale's special, inscribed, first editions, but all of the other printings and alternate covers, and volumes with added literary analysis.

Crowley snorted out a laugh when he saw it. "They gave you a special place to hide your porn stash. Looks like they know you well enough."

Aziraphale frowned at him. "My porn stash? I know that you slept through most of the 1800s, but have you ever actually read any of Oscar's works?"

"Oh yeah," Crowley dismissed. "Full of flowery prose, clever witticism, and thinly veiled homoerotic subtext. It might not be erotica, but if, after all this time, you think I don't know what gets your blood pumping, angel, well…" He waved a hand at the books. "I think all this speaks for itself."

A slight flush rose in Aziraphale's cheeks. "It took you six thousand years, the loss of our supernatural powers, and a kiss on the forehead to figure out what gets my blood pumping."

Crowley reached out and slid the bookshelf over again to cover the Wilde books. He reached up to lay a hand against Aziraphale's flushed cheek and quirked his lips up into a smirk. "Who says that persistence doesn't pay? Maybe if Oscar had had a few thousand more years, you'd be wearing his ring on your finger."

Aziraphale looked down at his hand. "I think that maybe I was already taken—even if I wasn't ready to admit it."

Crowley leaned in and kissed the top of Aziraphale's head. "Want to go see what they did upstairs?" he asked, holding out his hand.

Aziraphale took it and allowed himself to be led up to their flat.

Their kitchen wasn't really a kitchen anymore. It looked more like a greenhouse with its own sink and refrigerator. Yeshua and Adam had made tiered shelving to hold and display all of Crowley's plants. Except, of course, Crowley's plants had all been destroyed, and these plants were… strange.

Crowley crouched in front of one, and scowled at it. He poked it with one finger and it wobbled a bit. "You're all spongey and you look like you're trying to compensate for something," he told it. "I don't know what kind of tree you think you're supposed to be, but you should know that we don't tolerate shedding leaves in this household, and failure to thrive is unacceptable."

"Um, Crowley, dear," Aziraphale said, uncertainly. "I think our table is alive."

Crowley came over to inspect it, and sure enough their new dining table was actually a living into the floor was a special planter, and out of it grew a thick trunk of twining vines that rose up and matted together to support a round, glass, tabletop. The way that the vines had braided themselves together beneath the glass formed an image that almost looked like it had been carved from a solid piece of wood.

There was a familiar apple tree, and beneath its foliage, a certain demon held out an apple to a certain angel.

Aziraphale swiped his hand over the glass, lingering just above the image of the little vine-formed Crowley. "It's an interesting choice of decoration."

Crowley hummed. "I'd always wondered what might have happened if I'd tried tempting you with food a bit earlier. I think those apples were the only morsels in the garden that you didn't sample."

"Did Eve ever say what they tasted like?"

"Freedom."

oOoOoOo

On the day that he was supposed to have returned to Heaven, Yeshua bar Yoseph of Nazareth, Son of God, messiah to the people, and sometime journeyman carpenter, stood in the entryway of his new flat in Mayfair in the 21st Century.

He still had the keys that Crowley had given him clutched in his hand as he stood there frozen in place.

There was a statue.

It was two angels, and they were… well, they were doing something, but Yeshua didn't think it was wrestling.

He'd seen angels wrestle before. It was a favorite pastime in Heaven. Michael and Gabriel had a longstanding rivalry. But, their matches never looked like this. Nor had they ever made him feel quite the way that he did looking at Crowley's favorite sculpture.

oOoOoOo

Azazel and Lucifer stood on the edge of a rock face overlooking a new pocket of Hell. Despite its location off the Ninth Circle, the frozen and barren plane around the edge of the cliff gave way to verdant greenery and tall trees with patches of grassy plain below. Adam had dubbed the place Circle 9 ¾, for no reason that either of his parents could understand.

"If I had known that all I needed to do to get him to come here willingly was give him a dinosaur, I would have done it years ago," Lucifer commented.

"I think that a little honesty goes a long way, as well," Azazel said.

"I'm The Devil. I'm not supposed to be honest."

"You aren't supposed to be a lot of the things that you are. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to learn a thing or two from Adam- where it comes to being who you want to be, instead of who you're meant to be."

"And yet, Adam has created his own place in Hell. Even if it is just somewhere to keep his new pet, it's a step towards what he's meant to become."

"Maybe."

Azazel watched anxiously as the dinosaur, fresh from killing its third recorporated Hastur of the day, turned on Adam. He narrowly avoided the dinosaur's snapping teeth, ducking low around a rocky outcropping, as he threw up a hand. The dinosaur froze in place and dropped to the ground, and Azazel made a relieved sound.

"He's doing it in his own way though," Azazel continued. "I think we're going to be seeing a lot of changes around here, the more Adam starts to get involved."

Lucifer took Azazel's hand in his and brought it to his lips, brushing a kiss over the top of his knuckles. "A few changes might be a good thing."

"Good?"

Lucifer sighed, rolling his eyes. "Having you all to myself definitely isn't bad."

oOoOoOo

Below, Adam kept a wary eye on the Eustreptospondylus.

"All right, Dilly. Let's try this again."

He released his hold on the dinosaur, and it squawked and struggled up to its feet. It hopped forward, crouching low, and snapped its teeth. Clever, slitted, eyes darted back and forth, as it watched him.

"Just stay there," Adam said. "If you try to attack me, I'm just going to drop you again. We need to come to an understanding here."

Dilly sidled sideways, moving away from Adam and closer to the freshly killed demon.

"Good, good," Adam said in a calm voice. "If you're going to stay here you need to get used to being a Hasturivore. You can have all the demon that you want, but no biting the hand that feeds you."

The dinosaur darted another glance at him, and then bent to put its jaws around Hastur's still twitching arm. There was an unpleasantly wet sound as it tore off Hastur's hand and tilted its head up to swallow down the chunk of meat.

"Well, you know what I mean," Adam amended in the face of the obvious irony. "You have to be properly trained. Dad says I can only keep you if you're properly trained."