Chapter Text
“Can we go to the park?”
Ezra Fell was brought back into awareness by the simple question posed to him by his nephew, Adam. He looked down at the curly-haired boy who stared back with wide, pleading eyes.
It was Saturday, the last Saturday they both had before returning to what was as close to their normal lives as they would ever get again. In some ways, it felt like the first Saturday after the world had ended; in others, it was like the first day of a new life. But that was mostly because Ezra was maudlin, having not slept much, if at all, the night before.
And, he supposed, it wasn’t like he was going to get any sleep now, so what was the harm in allowing Adam some semblance of normal?
“Yes,” Ezra agreed, and Adam was already up and scrambling to head for the entryway where his shoes and coats were.
Ezra rose from the sofa, taking with him his book, which had been sitting untouched in his lap.
“How long can we stay?” Adam asked as he pulled on his laceless trainers.
“I’m not sure,” Ezra replied, though with the weather being very agreeable, it was very likely that they would be there for a few hours. Adam had been cooped up inside for one reason or another for the last two weeks, and for a four-year-old, he’d been quite cooperative.
And resilient. If there was one thing that Ezra had been the proudest of when it came to his nephew these days, it was his way of bouncing back from heartbreak and tragedy.
Ezra put on his well-worn jacket: an antique beige jacket from sometime in the 1800s he’d found in a thrift store for an absolute steal. He slipped on his brown leather dress shoes that he would get resoled once a year. He made sure he had his wallet, his glasses should he discover he needed them, and grabbed his keys to stuff in the pocket with the book.
Adam put on his jacket, a bright red thing that would keep him just warm enough in the late May weather without causing him to sweat. Once the jacket was on, Ezra ruffled the boy’s dark blonde, curly hair, then opened the door and waved him out of the flat. He locked up, making sure it was secure, before he followed Adam down the stairs and around to the street. As they walked past the storefront of the second-hand bookshop, the flat was housed above, Adam took Ezra’s hand without prompting.
It was fairly early, something Ezra hadn’t considered when fulfilling Adam’s request. The city of Tadfield, located between Oxford and London, was still fairly quiet. It hadn’t woken up from its Friday night hoopla, there being very few cars and next to no people on the sidewalk as they made their way to the spot Adam favored.
With only one way in (without climbing a massive, wrought iron fence), the East Tadfield Park was a lovely spot. Near the back of the park, there was a football field with stadium benches hidden behind a small copse of trees and out of sight of the general public. There were jogging trails, something that Ezra had been made well aware of numerous times by a very persistent friend. There was a duck pond in the far left corner from where the entrance stood, and many gardens throughout for those who just want to be among the greenery. And, near the playground to the right of the entrance, was a well-placed coffee stand.
Ezra had been thinking about that as they ambled along, imagining the simple pleasure he might get from a steaming cup of tea, perhaps a scone or a danish, and reading a book while Adam played. It would be very, very close to the way things used to be when he would watch him for a weekend, and they would do this very thing on a nice day.
“Uncle Ezra, look! Look at the car!” Adam said, tugging on his hand and hopping about, pointing at an antique-looking black car parked on the side of the road beside the park entrance. It was one of only three sitting idle, but the look of it -long and sleek and not of the era- made it stick out.
“It’s very interesting.” Ezra agreed with the boy. “Looks a little too new to be a true old vehicle, though.”
Adam didn’t seem to be listening at this point, his interest diverted to something in the trees overhead. Which, really, was for the best. Ezra’s knowledge of vehicles was extremely limited, boiled down to the basics of the key going into the ignition, and petrol was needed to keep them going. Anything else was taken care of by an annual servicing, and since he hadn’t ever found a need to own one himself, it was pretty much just what he recalled his mum telling him as a teenager.
They turned into the park, quiet except for the sound of a passing jogger on the path and the distant shift of the playground equipment. Adam remained at Ezra’s side diligently, keeping pace despite clearly wanting to make a run for it.
“There’s another kid there,” He said, tugging at Ezra’s hand while they slowed on their approach to the coffee stand.
“That’s excellent,” he smiled down at his nephew. “Perhaps you can make a friend.”
“Hey, Mr. Fell,” the young employee greeted him with a smile as he came up to the window.
“Mr. Nolan, what a pleasant surprise. How are you? How was your break?” He asked.
“Wasn’t bad,” his student replied, smile shifting to something less bright after a moment. “I’m sorry for your loss. It went around the school why you were gone the week before break.”
Ezra’s smile faltered. “Thank you, Mr. Nolan.” And then before the young man could carry on the topic, he asked, “Would I be able to get a cup of tea, and one of those raspberry scones, please?” Ezra then turned to his nephew. “Would you like anything, Adam?”
“No, thank you.” He replied, eyes focused straight ahead at the playground.
Ezra looked to his student, “Perhaps an apple juice for later.” He asked.
The young man looked to Adam with a slight furrow of his brow, then to Ezra, and smiled in a confused little way before going to fill Ezra’s order.
Well, that would take away from the talk of his family loss; now the entire student body will be wondering if he had a son, and if so, then how.
He paid the young man after getting his goods, and once they were in hand, Adam took that as his cue to take off. Ezra followed at a slower pace, his eyes focused on Adam as he watched him run between the concrete tables with their matching benches, ignoring the ginger person sitting at one of them.
Something like a pang whipped through Ezra as he remembered a fellow he once knew with a similar shade of hair, who also happened to be slender with a penchant for wearing blacks and grays.
A reminder of another thing lost. It was best he brought his book after all.
Ezra settled at the other table, eyes scanning the equipment for Adam as he disappeared for a moment, resurfacing at the top of one section of the jungle gym to catch up with the dark-haired child who was already there.
“Stay where I can see you, Adam.” He called, a reminder to stay where he was more than anything else. There were enough trees about that he could hide easily, and Ezra knew he wouldn’t be able to handle losing sight of him during an impromptu game of hide-and-seek. He grinned at his nephew, seeming to have found a playmate for the morning, then settled on the bench.
He’d just removed his scone from its brown paper bag when he heard the very quiet, very disbelieving, “Ezra?”
He turned to the man at the other table, the only other adult at the park, the voice a little too familiar.
He was utterly taken aback by the sight before him.
“Oh,” he gasped. “Anthony?”
He couldn’t imagine the odds. After so many years of seeing tall, slender ginger men around the city, and occasionally on his popovers to London, Ezra had long come to expect the disappointment at finding a stranger instead of his long-lost friend. To find him now in Tadfield East Park seemed utterly ridiculous.
Anthony changed just enough not to be recognizable at first. For one, Anthony had always had shorter hair, styled in such a lazy way that it was always considered cool. Now he sported longer locks, his natural wave coming through in the ends. It was half up at the moment, a small knot or bun at the back where it was tied. There was also a pair of very fancy sunglasses covering his very unique eyes.
“Holy shit,” Anthony said softly, nothing but surprise in his tone, and Ezra barked out a laugh with equal feeling. Anthony turned sharply toward the jungle gym, then sharply back. “You? You’re?” he pointed toward the equipment.
“I’m here with the little blonde boy, yes.” He nodded. “And you, you’re?”
“My son, Lock, yeah,” Anthony replied like he still wasn’t sure this was real. He shook his head. “I can’t… how long have you been here?”
“About five minutes,” Ezra replied with a smirk, and Anthony grinned.
“Not-, Tadfield. How long have you been here in Tadfield?”
“Oh, about five, almost six years, now.” He replied. “How about you?”
“We just moved here from London earlier in the week,” Anthony replied, the disbelief returning. “I… my shop. I… I have a shop here. I… I work from it more than I do London.” He explained.
“Oh,” Ezra perked up. “Well, that’s lovely. I think you’ll like it here. It’s not as busy as London, admittedly. It’s just above a town in size, sort of a very small city. Nightlife might leave something to be desired, of course, but-”
“When did you get married?” Anthony interrupted.
Ezra wasn’t sure it was because he was babbling, his hands were flapping about in that way they did when he rambled or was nervous (or was nervously rambling, which he was not, of course), or if it was because some part of Anthony’s brain still hadn’t caught up to their present situation. Ezra didn’t need to see his eyes to know they were wide, still filled with surprise, and half unfocused. They were, at one point, best friends. Had been until about ten years ago.
It took a second for Ezra to realize what Anthony had asked him.
“Oh.” He frowned. “I’m not. Why would you think I was?”
Anthony stared at him a moment before gesturing broadly in the direction of the boys who were playing quite happily together.
Ezra looked at the boys, then back at Anthony, pursing his lips as his frown deepened.
“He looks like you did when we were kids,” Anthony explained. “Least from what I saw as he ran by.”
“Oh,” Ezra understood. “Oh, he’s not… he’s not mine. Well, I suppose he is now.” He added sadly. “He is, was, I mean…. Eliza’s his mother. But she passed.”
“What?” Anthony said, before shaking his head. “I mean, sorry. I’m so sorry. Oh, Ezra, you… I can’t imagine, I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you.” He managed, then remembered he had tea that might help to wash away the sudden lump in his throat.
“How… how did she… when?” Anthony stammered, and he reached up to remove the sunglasses.
Ezra wasn’t sure what brought the tears to his eyes: the still raw grief of losing his sister, or the beautiful sight of Anthony’s eyes. A pale, near-golden brown with a spot at the top and bottom of each eye, perfectly aligned with the pupil. He could understand the need for shades; Anthony’s eyes would draw a double-take, almost looking like snake eyes if one looked quickly enough. Ezra remembered it had been a common lament of his friend when they were younger.
He missed them.
“About two weeks ago,” he replied, just a little watery. “Car accident. She and the man she’d been seeing. They were taking a trip up North,” Ezra gave a weak smile. “Gavin had asked me for permission to marry her, and he was going to propose.” He sniffed, clearing his throat. “The police aren’t sure what caused the accident. It’s possible Gavin lost control of the car, or there was an animal in the road. But either way, the vehicle… it was horrendous, I’m told.”
“I’m so sorry, truly.” Anthony shook his head, looking at the boys again before turning back to Ezra. “Your mum must have taken it hard.”
“Mum’s been gone about four years now, just before Adam turned one.”
“Fuck,” Anthony said, shaking his head. “What about… his dad?” Anthony asked, looking at the boys.
Ezra followed his gaze, and his heart was momentarily lifted by seeing Adam’s smile, hearing his laugh as he and Lock played a game of some sort.
“Not in the picture,” Ezra replied. “He never was.” Anthony nodded in understanding. Which, of course, had made Ezra wonder about his situation. “What about Lock’s mum? Or… other dad?”
Anthony smirked. “She’s, uh… not in the picture, either. Not-not that I wanted her in the picture, or anything. She, umm, we, uh… it doesn’t matter. Point is, she’s not in Lock’s life. Just the two of us.”
There was a lull of silence between the two of them, and Ezra belatedly realized his heart was hammering. Had it been like that since the moment he realized Anthony Crowley was there, one table over? Or had it begun to race as they started speaking, how telling this man, who was both a total stranger and the one person left who knew - truly knew - who he was, about his recent heartbreak.
And when had they locked eyes? When had they begun to hold each other’s gaze?
Looking down, Ezra had suddenly remembered he had food.
Without hesitation, he broke off a bit of his scone and stuffed it in his mouth, focusing his attention on Adam and Lock for a while, finding it charming that the two of them took to each other so quickly.
In his periphery, he noted Anthony getting up, moving somewhere behind him. Probably to the coffee cart, and a glance over his shoulder confirmed it. He bowed his head back over his breakfast, realizing only now that in his early fog of fatigue he had fed Adam but not himself.
He ate without savoring, a crime in his own books, and by the time he had finished, Anthony was returning. To his great surprise, he settled in next to Ezra, leaving enough space between them that their elbows shouldn’t bump overmuch. It almost felt like being pressed up together, given how long it had been since they were in each other’s presence.
There was a companionable silence between them, and Ezra couldn’t help but side-eye Anthony. And, he realized, Anthony was doing the same with him from time to time. His sunglasses were perched on top of his head, having probably put them back on to order and removed them to a point when he returned. They would smile shyly (or slyly, as Anthony often looked) at each other when they were caught, but would just take a sip of their drink, turn to the boys, then start the whole thing over.
“So, what have you been up to? Tell me about this shop you mentioned.” Ezra said, shifting himself a bit more toward Anthony.
“Oh, well,” Anthony stammered a little. “Garden. It’s called the Garden, uh…. Dad… he wouldn’t release my trust fund to me. Still hadn’t proved myself… to his liking, I guess. So, I earned money doing gardening work. Seemed better than trying to earn experience interning with one of the companies in London, certainly better paid. I worked for a really well-to-do family until,” He paused, his face turning a deep red. “Well, until I didn’t. Made enough to buy a small little hole in the wall shop in Soho. Turned it around, made it a thing. Still did the arrangements and whatnot, but sold actual plants, too. Herb plants, a few dwarf fruit trees, basic houseplants, too. Did really well, coulda gone on just being there forever and probably wouldn’t have wanted for anything. Then, well, not long after Warlock he gave me my trust, and I knew I wanted bigger. Something like a nursery. Couldn’t do that in London, not the size I wanted, so I found a spot out here.”
“Eliza was very fond of The Garden, so I’m aware it does well.”
“Liza was a customer, was she?”
“Much as she could be.” Ezra nodded.
“Huh,” Anthony said, looking over at the boys a moment. “So, anyway, yeah. It’s… that’s my shop. I worked out there most days, back in the greenhouse, or doing arrangements. Started to hate living in London, and with Lock, well….”
“You called him Warlock earlier.”
“Yeah, that’s his first name. Call him Lock most of the time.”
Ezra hummed in understanding, though he admittedly had some questions about the name. He let it go, for now. He could feel something building here, something delicate on firm foundations long-buried and only just being uncovered.
“Your parents must be pleased to have a grandchild at least,” Ezra added, a smirk curling his lips in spite of himself. “Your father, especially, what with the ever-so-coincidental timing of you getting your trust fund just as your son is born. He was always very set in the belief of what it takes to be a real man. Must have been overjoyed with the fact that you followed the proper urges and reproduced.”
Anthony snorted. “He was bloody over the moon. Thinking I was all straightened out. No pun intended.”
“I do recall you saying in University that he was overly concerned with your ‘behaving in unpredictable ways and hanging around the wrong sorts’.”
“Mmm,” Anthony said as he took a sip of his coffee. “Yeah, that was how he put it, alright. Mind, that started well before I left home.”
“He never did like me,” Ezra said, unfazed.
“Still wouldn’t.”
“Quite right,” Ezra agreed. “As I am still very much the ‘wrong sort’.”
“Not any of the better sort myself,” Anthony mumbled against the lip of his coffee cup.
Ezra looked him over, feeling his heart warm up and sigh as he took in Anthony’s profile. “So, you said Lock’s mother isn’t in the picture, but you never said if you had a partner.”
“Not anymore,” Anthony replied, setting his cup back down, rolling it between his hands. “Was seeing a bloke for a bit, but wasn’t anything terribly serious, and with the move? Just easier to call it off.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Ezra said, and if there was a small, quiet part of him that was lying, it didn’t matter.
The sad thing was that when it came to Anthony, it never did.
“Don’t be.” Anthony shrugged. “What about you? Not married, but seeing anyone?”
“No,” Ezra laughed. “No, I’ve been single for a while now.”
“How is that possible?” Anthony asked, and Ezra shook his head at the tease.
“You and I both know I was never what anyone might call fit, but it seems I’ve only gotten softer with age.” He said, glancing down at the pudge that accumulated over the years. A sweater vest over his typical button-up tended to hide it somewhat, but it was there, all the same, made more obvious by sitting. “I’m hardly anyone’s type.”
“You’ve always been too hard on yourself,” Anthony chided gently. “There was that loud American in university, the one that took a shine to you, what was his name?”
“Gabriel,” Ezra said, hoping the heat he felt didn’t reflect in his cheeks.
“Yeah, Gabe. I believe you called him-”
“Please, don’t,” Ezra asked earnestly, and Anthony laughed.
“Alright, but you see my point, yeah? He fancied you. Lots of blokes and even a few oblivious women fancied you plenty.” He commented.
“Can we change the subject, please?”
“You brought it up.”
“I asked if you had a paramour, not to rehash bygone days.” Ezra pointed out, taking a sip of his cooling tea.
“Suppose.” Anthony agreed.
He sighed with relief, glad they weren’t about to head right for the rocky waters of their past. No need to spoil a perfectly pleasant morning with all that nonsense.
~Crowley~
Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!
It had been a mantra of Crowley’s almost the entire time since being unexpectedly reunited with one Ezra Fell.
When he wasn’t screaming that single word in the void of his mind, there was also still lovely and bright, fuck me this is actually happening, and I’m an idiot.
He didn’t think anything so world-shifting would happen when he got up that morning. Warlock had woken him up, having slept in Crowley’s bed the night before, the house still new and unfamiliar, the boxes mostly packed except for the very bare essentials. The little guy had been hungry, but of course, having nothing really ready to go, and no proper food in the new house, Crowley decided breakfast out was in order. A quick search on his phone showed a coffee cart in a park about a mile from the house. The park had a playground.
Well, he was hoping that maybe Warlock would go down for a nap later in the day, and what better way to better the odds than to have him run about in the fresh air. The weather was fine, a first for the last week, and so there wasn’t any reason not to go ahead with the idea.
He loaded him into the Bentley, a custom-made car that looks like a 1930s model on the outside, but had all the accommodations of a modern vehicle. They drove the mile, a distance that seemed a little pointless now, but would come in handy later when the worn-out Warlock would’ve whined about needing to walk.
They had muffins, and when the pastry was gone, Warlock took off for the alluring jungle gym.
No more than five minutes after they’d finished, another little boy tore past Crowley, and he prepared himself to spend a bit longer than anticipated by pulling out his phone to entertain himself.
And then he heard it. The voice that lingered in his dreams and that he never really thought he’d hear again.
He’d been almost scared to say anything, but his name fell from his lips like it had been perched there. In some ways, it was, having never left them, not really.
“Ezra,”
“Oh, Anthony.” Ezra gasped, staring at him as if he wasn’t sure he was real.
“Holy shit.” Anthony had said, and the laugh that came from Ezra was like warm sun after a long, cold winter. It was real, it was pleased, and it had meant those three typed words in an email forever saved in Anthony’s inbox had been real.
I forgive you.
He’d realized what an ass he’d been to the man he considered his best friend, to the one person who had always been in his corner and seemed to care for him unconditionally, too late to really, properly have a reconciliation. There had been moments leading up to that doomsday like event that tore them apart that had Crowley believing Ezra may have even loved him in the same way. But he wasn’t brave, not when it came to his heart, not back then.
But now?
He still wasn’t brave, but he was trying to be. Trying to muster the nerve to make sure this very tentative connection could remain. It was too soon for all his buried affections to rise from the earth, but they were coming back regardless of what Crowley wanted. They didn’t care that there were years of history that the other wasn’t part of. Crowley had a child now. One with parentage that he had to keep very, very quiet. Hell, Ezra had a child now, in a way. And he’d lost all his family, all that remained except Adam.
Yet despite that, he still seemed very much the Ezra that Crowley knew. He still dressed like a man much older than he was, still spoke in that posh way, with fussy manners. He still had that wit, that ability to make a subtle dig that anyone who didn’t see his less angelic side believe was a state of fact or quiet sort of compliment.
Crowley wanted desperately to be back in his orbit, to have more mornings like this.
He’d have to be careful, though. He had already come too close to a sore spot, bringing up Gabriel.
“So, does Adam go to nursery?” He asked. A safe topic, bringing things back to the boys. Kids were always a safe topic, Crowley found, when speaking to other parents. And while Ezra wasn’t exactly Adam’s parent, he was filling that role now, and knowing the Fells, he likely had a pretty big part in Adam’s upbringing from the get-go.
“He does,” Ezra confirmed, any wilting of that brilliant, bright mood of his automatically fading as he grinned. “Little Duck, not far from here.”
“Little Duck!” Crowley crowed. “That’s where Warlock’s going, starting Monday.” He grinned, all teeth. “What about his primary? Where’s he going?”
Ezra wilted again, just a little. “He’s been accepted into Tadfield East Elementary.” He replied, still grinning but much less so. “Eliza was quite pleased, what with it being not too far.”
Shit.
“Warlock’s going there, too,” Crowley said, still pleased but much more subdued. “He was a bit sad about starting a new nursery with only a few months to go, then worried about starting school in general. ‘Course now,” Crowley said, turning back to the boys as they ran about, smiling and laughing, whatever game they were playing agreeing with them both.
“Yes, I do recall big changes being easier to take when you made a friend,” Ezra replied with a smirk, peeking at Crowley from the corner of his eye.
“Be something else, wouldn’t it? The boys being best friends, too? Next-generation of Crowleys and Fells?” Crowley said with a smile, trying his damnedest to mask the tremor that came up the second he realized what he said.
“Too?” Ezra asked, and Crowley prayed to someone, anyone, that he hadn’t misheard the hope in Ezra’s voice.
“Well, I’m new-ish. Got the work friends, of course, but none of them have kids. And you and me, well….”
“Do you still drive like an absolute insane person?” Ezra asked curiously.
“I’ve… toned it down since becoming a father.” He said, noting the curl of Ezra’s lip.
“I’m glad to hear it,” Ezra replied, taking a sip of his drink. “It would have been dreadful to have to yell at you to slow down if we ever went anywhere together.” He glanced at Crowley. “I mean if the boys are going to be friends, which, if the way they are getting along is any indication, it’s a sure thing. Well, I’m sure we’re going to find ourselves in each other’s company quite often.”
“Still take your tea the same? Could have it ready when we’re meeting up here. Bound to happen, as you say.”
“I do,” Ezra replied. “And you? Still prefer your coffee black?”
“Like my soul.”
“Oh, please.” Ezra scoffed. “You were always one of the nicest-”
“Shut up!”
“-nicest people I’ve ever met. If your soul is black, then I would be loath to find out the state of mine.”
“Says the-”
“Don’t say it,” Ezra didn’t really protest.
“-the angel.”
Ezra blushed, trying not to look so pleased, but Crowley could tell he was. The nickname, which was more of a pet name in Crowley’s mind, had likely not been used since the last time he spoke it.
“You never…,” Ezra started after a moment. “You never… kept in touch. I guess, I just assumed that maybe….”
“Maybe, what?”
“That maybe you had a reason to apologize that really had nothing to do with me.” Ezra turned to him then, the nervous worry in his eyes breaking Crowley’s heart. Ezra’s hands fidgeted around the cup in his grasp, and if it hadn’t been there, Crowley was sure they would be flapping about. “I’m not sure, maybe you felt obligated, or perhaps there was something happening in your life that you felt you needed to clear the air with others. Your note came just as I was leaving Oxford, which would mean, of course, that I wouldn’t have access to that electronic mail account anymore. I… I often wondered…. Oh, listen to me, ruining a perfectly good-”
“What did you wonder, Ezra?” Crowley asked softly, the name he would have said lodged in the back of his throat, waiting for permission to be set free again.
“…I had wondered if maybe you were hoping I would never have received it. So, you could have had a perfectly valid response if someone - I don’t know who - were to ask you why we stopped speaking.”
“No, that’s not… that’s not why. I… I just… things were….” Crowley stopped when he felt the warm press of Ezra’s hand on his, and he stared at it dumbfounded.
How often had these casual touches passed between them? How often had they held hands as they walked about the Oxford campus before Crowley changed schools? How many times had they lounged as teenagers, Crowley resting on the ground or floor in front of a bench or sofa Ezra was on, their hands resting in or on one another’s? He’d taken it for granted, not realizing how tactile his friend had been until Ezra was gone and casual touch was far less frequent.
“You don’t need to explain,” Ezra assured gently. “It was ages ago now. And while I may have wondered if you… It doesn’t matter. Not anymore.”
Crowley looked at that hand covering his and tried to will his hand to turn, palm up, so he could grasp it. The most he was able to do was move his thumb so it rested against Ezra’s.
“I didn’t want to stop speaking with you.” He managed to say. “Not ever.”
“Nor I.”
“Good,” Crowley said firmly. “So, we’ll just… forget the last ten years never happened, at least as much as we can.”
“Had it really been that long?” Ezra asked softly, sadly.
“Yeah,” Crowley answered in the same tone.
“Well,” Ezra took a breath, straightening up, and unfortunately pulling his hand away. “We shall put it behind us then.”
“Great plan,” Crowley agreed, straightening from the slouch he hadn’t realized he’d gotten into himself. “Gimme your phone, I’ll put my number in it. Had to change it once.”
Ezra reached into his pocket, and Crowley held out his hand while taking a peek at the boys, seeing them sitting on the sand, animatedly discussing something. He felt something placed in his palm and looked down at the small, lightweight device still lit up from Ezra bringing up a new contact page.
Crowley blinked at it, then threw his head back and laughed.
Ezra huffed, “What? It’s a touch screen!”
“It’s bloody ancient.” Crowley laughed.
“It’s only six years old! Hardly ancient.”
“Oh, Ezra, for technology that’s virtually the stone age. It has buttons on the bottom, honest to God buttons. And, the size, it’s so small.” He said, turning it about. “Oh my… it’s a bloody Nokia!”
“It’s a perfectly acceptable and functional device. It has applications, even.”
Crowley was still giggling as he began to put in his contact information. “I suppose, considering how long it took Liza and me to convince you just to get a flip phone.”
“I do text message more now,” Ezra said proudly. “Still not often, mind you. I still prefer to simply call someone.”
“I am not at all surprised,” Crowley said as he moved on to the messaging app, sending himself a text message. He heard the ding in his pocket but decided not to bother with it just yet. He’d save it later after they parted ways and went home, before he began to unpack while Warlock played or slept.
“So, what did you end up doing? Tell me about it.” Crowley asked as he gave Ezra’s phone back to him.
“Well, I teach English….” He started off, and they continued on talking and catching up until the boys came over complaining of being hungry.
They parted ways, though it seemed none of the four wanted to. There was a promise to the young ones that they’d see each other at the nursery on Monday, but between the adults, there was nothing more than a chance of running into one another.
At least, not yet, because as Crowley drove a tired, slightly cranky Warlock back home, he was starting to think of a dozen different ways he could see Ezra again.