ethereal-menace:

When old ladies look at Crowley, look at his too tight trousers, sunglasses and swagger, they inevitably come to the conclusion that he is a sweet, handsome young man*. A bit of a rogue, but only in the way they’d giggle over. Crowley is VEXED. He is not sweet! He is not to be giggled over! But they’ll fuss over him even more, patting his hand and insisting he has a biscuit and some tea. And Crowley sits there carefully holding his floral teacup, listening respectfully even as he sulks, and always without fail ends up doing some small helpful tasks on his way out. He’s usually back, despite his sulking. And maybe light bulbs stop needing to be changed, and all the highest cupboards are suddenly much easier to reach after he’s been around.

*this is true

When old ladies look at Aziraphale, they see his his fussy mannerisms, beautifully manicured hands, outdated wardrobe, and masterful uses of passive-aggressiveness, and they see one of their own. Aziraphale gets invited to knitting circles. He bakes with them. He gets ALL the best gossip about Doris’s grandson, gets involved in the Tea Discourse, and knows his steamy romances like the best of them. He gasps, puts a hand to his breast, pours the tea Just So, is utterly delighted by anything knitted or tartan, and grumbles about technology. He’s one of them, and he likes it. And maybe they find their memories are a little sharper, maybe he just happens to have a record of the old song their sweetheart used to sing to them, maybe all their favourite old films start playing again on the telly after he’s been around.