After 200 years of being a 'shopowner' in SoHo, Whickber Street has gotten relatively used to Aziraphale's (and subsequently Crowley's) presence. But after 200 years, people have definitely noticed that A.Z Fell and Co. is in no way a typical bookshop.
The shop's opening hours alone are enough to give away that something isn't quite right.
The hours of operation sign reads like a puzzle you'd expect at the entrance of a haunted tomb
(Which was EXACTLY what Crowley was going for. Aziraphale approached him in 1835 about making a sign to avoid customers, and he still prides himself to this day about it)
"No customers today, Angel? I wonder what wicked creature could've caused that. Must be a pretty brilliant demon, that one."
Crowley tries to use that sign as leverage in arguments at least twice a decade and it's never once worked, but he figures one of these years the Angel will finally gives in to his 'wiles', and Crowley is nothing if not persistent
Aziraphale has a reputation among the rare book enthusiast community as the rudest gentleman they've ever encountered, but he always sends baked goods afterwards when he feels guilty about it
Once, a particularly rude collector found that the package they received seemed to be expired by a very, very long time. And all the cookies broken and crumbled.
It was the cruelest thing Aziraphale could think of, ruined treats. Crowley was very proud of him for that.
"Absolutely diabolical, Angel. Ever consider a career change? You'd be a Hell of a Demon with skills like that."
If a customer miraculously finds the shop open, they immediately realize that they probably shouldn't have walked in
Aziraphale is always perfectly polite to customers, of course. But 'polite' and 'welcoming' are very different words, and Aziraphale is a Principality, not a saint. He's never had much patience as far as customers were concerned.
Anyone who finds themselves wandering towards the first edition shelf towards the back suddenly seem to remember that they've missed a very important appointment.
A mysterious phone call from a long-lost family member goes a long ways towards turning people around and back onto the street, as well.
Once or twice, a few persistent potential-customers have found their phone buzzing, announcing they've suddenly won a rather large amount of money from a contest they don't remember entering.
On the rare days Aziraphale has to go out of town for an auction or errands, Crowley will occasionally volunteer himself to watch over the shop.
When Crowley is alone in the shop with customers, all bets are off.
From the street, you'd think somebody was throwing a rave in the shop.
Lights flickering off and on in no particular order, and occasionally turn colors. Apparently, it's very difficult to browse books with flashing blue and orange lights all around you, and when you complain to the man sprawled on the seat behind the counter about it, all you get is a smirk and a "Sorry 'bout that, keep meaning to fix them up. Whatta shame, huh?"
Suddenly the lights seem to fix themselves, just in time for the soft classical music coming from the back of the shop to turn into a techno rave edit of 'Never Gonna Give You Up'. All at a volume that would be painful at a outdoor concert, let alone a small shop.
Sometimes, Crowley doesn't even sit behind the counter. Customers might just walk in to find a very large, very judgemental looking snake laying across the desk, hissing at anything that moves.
He had to stop pulling that particular trick after a concerned group of mothers called animal control on him, and he almost got kidnapped by idiot humans who decided to try and pick up a 15 foot snake with little grabby claws.
Crowley had far too much pride to tell Aziraphale about that day, and sulked on the couch in the back for the rest of the week.
(Aziraphale found out, of course. Nina watched the whole thing from across the street, and laughed so much she dropped a pot of coffee all over her counter. The Angel had the good graces to never bring it up, but quietly laughs everytime Crowley glares at an animal control van that passes by the street.)
The only time Aziraphale welcomes humans into his shop is when they come in, not for books, but for refuge.
The people of SoHo always know that A.Z Fell and Co. is open to everyone that needs a safe place, for any reason.
They'll find a kind looking man ushering them inside, offering them a seat and a cup of tea, listening to their problems and offering advice, helping when he can. He has the air of someone much, much older than he looks, and much wiser than you'd think.
Those humans, the ones who come in seeking help, always leave feeling miraculously better. And sometimes find themselves blessed, just a bit.
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The ineffable husbands are definitely neurospicy.
Aziraphale is definitely autistic
(doesn't understand sarcasm, misses cues, owns a bookshop, only wears the same clothes and gets very attached to certain objects, has special interests in prophecy books - but also books in general - classical music, and fine dining, and collects things related to them etc)
and has a couple of adhd traits
(Fidgety, has talents from old hyperfixations that just randomly come up again - gavotte dancing, magic tricks - office looks like a bomb hit it, poor impulse control)
and in their classic opposites attract way
Crowley definitely has adhd
(chaotic energy embodied, stim songs = queen, always forgetting stuff, fidgets, can't think of right words until way after the conversation and just blurts them out when he remembers them - eg dUcks - poor impulse control, etc)
and has a couple of autistic traits
(sorts things into alphabetical order to calm down, sunglasses and safe clothes for sensory issues, queen special interest, misses some cues)
In conclusion, Crowley and Aziraphale's neurospiciness and shared traits are another way that the authors simultaneously contrasted/juxtaposed, and blurred the lines between good, evil, and the third side - Crowley and Azirphale.
Also Agnes and all her descendants are all neurospicy
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