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The thing was, Crowley hadn’t expected this. Sure, he was bored one evening and tempted that bloke at the pub, who had been ranting about how you couldn’t find workers expecting reasonable pay these days, by suggesting he could just replace some of them with AI. It was habit more than anything, a quick way to spread discontent and tarnish a soul. A demon couldn’t be expected to abandon all his well-ingrained habits just like that, especially not after a pint.
He did get a bit worried when the man’s further ramblings indicated that he might work in the book industry, but luckily enough Aziraphale was too preoccupied with the upcoming pub quiz to notice (and then got thoroughly distracted when his factually-correct-but-impossible-to-prove answer about the author of Beowulf was not accepted).
Crowley had honestly thought that was that… until he found a furious article about a London publisher selling books that seemed to never have seen an editor. Apparently everything was affected, from cheap sleuth novels to religious texts (the article said nothing remained sacred , which gave Crowley a much-needed laugh when he realised actual Bibles were involved too).
Aziraphale would definitely hear about this. And chances were, the angel would know who to blame for this much mayhem originating in London. Unless…
***
“Got something for you,” Crowley said, with all the suave nonchalance of James Bond.
“Oh, how lovely, my dear.” Aziraphale smiled at him over the edge of his book, showing no sign of recognising that the demon was striving to impress. “You shouldn’t have.”
“You’re going to love this.” Crowley grinned and set his briefcase down with a flourish. Aziraphale closed his book and looked on with curiosity.
Crowley entered the combination in the lock and carefully opened the case; it revealed a layer of protective foam. “You really do know how to build suspense, my boy,” Aziraphale complimented him.
Unfortunately, that was precisely when the demon needed to reach into his pocket for a pair of oven mitts (his tight jeans knew better than to fuss). He put them on, carefully removed the foam, and revealed a brand-new Bible. Still in protective gear, he handed it to Aziraphale. “I know how much you like your misprints, angel. The newest one for your collection.”
“Oh my! Wherever did you get this, Crowley?”
“Long story. Might want to check Genesis, three twenty-four.”
Aziraphale paged through the book. “Ah,” the angel said as he found the passage and started reading. “ …and at the east of the garden of Eden, he placed the angel with a word flaming— really, Crowley?”
“First edition I’ve ever seen acknowledging you’re more than capable of delivering a burn even after misplacing your sword,” the demon cackled.
"Thank you, my dear. It’s a lovely gift. I shall place it with the others as soon as I finish looking through it.”
“Oh, do .” Two glasses and a bottle of wine appeared on the table. “I hear there’s a Gerbil delivering the Annunciation in this one.”