Whoo, the bromance is actually starting now! I meant to make this longer... but I am just going to throw you at you guys :3

More than anything, Aziraphale was a creature of habit. Every morning, he sat in the same place, in the nook where two walls met the stone bench that ran the length on of of the walls in the entry-way. No one bothered him, and he usually tucked his legs under him and read for the half and hour before the bell signaled the start of the school day. He could count on one hand the number of times he'd spoken to anyone from that spot, and all of those incidents were from freshman year, before his fellow students had blocked him out of their minds and thoughts, as the kid who did and said nothing.

The anonymous kid.

And that's where he was the next morning. Curled up with his tattered copy of 1984, about halfway through it, rereading it again; he'd long since lost count of how many times he'd read it. He had a tendency to get sucked into a book, and to not notice anything going on around him, which was why he didn't notice Crowley approaching until the guy was looming above him with a smirk, blocking out the light, and saying, "Spoiler alert, Winston dies."

Aziraphale looked up to him with a glare as Crowley took a seat next to him, completely unfazed.

"You know, spoiler alerts usually give a person time to object to the upcoming spoiler," he said pointedly.

"Angel, it doesn't count as a spoiler if you've read the bloody book before," Crowley denoted. "And judging by how beat up that book is, you've got it memorized."

"How do you know it's my copy?" he challenged.

Crowley just had to give him an "are you serious?" look in reply. Aziraphale tried to refocus on his book, but Crowley's mere presence was serving to distract him.

"Can I help you with something, Crowley?" he asked, carefully placing his bookmark on the page and closing the book, folding his arms and pulling the book to his chest.

"I'm not allowed to say hello?" He feigned offence.

"Okay, you are. Mission accomplished. Is that it?"

"Zira, I'm offended! I saved you from being pummeled yesterday, and I take the time to interact with you today. Doesn't that at least get me a thank you or something."

"Thank you. That it?"

Crowley's gaze fell. "I see how it is. I guess I'll just-"

Aziraphale was instantly flooded with guilt. He reached out and caught Crowley's arm as he started to go. "No, Crowley, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been so rude."

Crowley turned back with a grin, all trace of hurt gone from his features. Of course. He reclaimed his seat. "I knew you wouldn't let me leave all brokenhearted like that, Angel!"

"Okay, what's with the angel thing?"

"Would you prefer 'Zira?'"

"Why are you calling me by nicknames?" Aziraphale clarified.

"Well, nicknames are usually considered to be a sign of endearment, and your name can be a bit of a mouthful…"

"Endearment?" Aziraphale repeated. "What do you mean, endearment?"

Crowley smirked. "You have a lot to learn, Angel."