(This chapter's a little short and I apologize for that. The next chapter will be longer! uwu)
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"SLEEPING BEAUTY"
The Bentley swerved towards the side of the road and parked outside Aziraphale's bookshop. Both the angel and demon hopped out of the car. Amelia was moving to get out— but her hand suddenly bumped into something. She picked up the thick green book and read the title, "The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter."
"Crowley—" she started softly as she stepped out onto the wet streets of London, "Is this yours?" The air was cold, sending shivers throughout her body. Her hair whipped around her face.
"I don't read books," he answered whilst avoiding her gaze, leaning his elbows against the roof of the car.
Aziraphale chimed in, "It has to belong to the young lady you hit with your car." A scowl formed on the demons face.
"—I'm in enough trouble as it is. I'm not going to start returning lost property. That's what your lot do." Amelia handed the book to Aziraphale, instantly noticing his change in manner as he read the cover.
"Why don't you just send it to the Tadfield post office addressed to "the mad American woman with the bicycle?" Crowley suggested. He stole a quick glance at Amelia, "No offense, love." Quite frankly—none was taken. She was just surprised that he actually even acknowledged her. The entire car ride had been completely silent, and he refused to pay any attention to her whatsoever.
Aziraphale replied nervously, "Oh, uh...jolly good, yes. Rather." He turned to hurry up the side walk.
"Are you alright?" Crowley asked towards the skittish angel.
"Perfectly, Yes. Uh, tip-top. Absolutely tickety-boo." Aziraphale gave them one last smile before closing the door to his shop and locking it behind him. Crowley slipped back into the front seat whilst Amelia got into the passengers side. She adjusted her gown and buckled up.
Crowley started to drive off—the car thick with a silence that wasn't uncomfortable—more like peaceful. So peaceful, that in fact, Amelia started to doze off. Her long lashes fluttered as she felt her eyelids grow heavy. She leaned her head against the window and sighed softly. Her heart rate eventually slowed down to a steady pace.
"So, where am I taking you—" Crowley's sentence was cut short as he turned to look at her. Noticing that she was asleep, his eyes flickered back to the road. He listened to her breathing—the sound almost music to his ears. She snored faintly, causing the demon to steal another glance her way. Hesitantly, he reached over and brushed her hair back so he could see her face. She looked exquisite, and for a split second, Crowley felt his heart flutter—which honestly repulsed him.
—
Crowley parked outside his flat and shut off the engine. "Alright, doll," he spoke to the sleeping girl, "Time to wake up." When she didn't move a muscle, the demon sighed and stepped out onto the road. He made his way over to her side and opened the door. Since she was leaning against the window, she almost tumbled out—but he caught her just in time. Amelia rested her head upon his chest—half asleep, half awake. The familiar smell of fruity wine filled her nose.
Crowley's footsteps echoed throughout the long corridor as he walked. He kicked the door to his bedroom open and walked towards his king sized bed. He laid her onto it, watching as she snuggled into his satiny sheets. Pulling his sunglasses off, he leaned over and slowly brushed his finger against her chin. He tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and stared at her.
"You're rather odd, love," his raspy voice muttered. He took off her heels and sat them on the floor. Amelia shifted onto her other side and whimpered softly. Crowley pulled the thick covers over her small frame. He smoothed back the hair on her head, giving her one last glance before turning to leave.
