Well, That Was A Thing (Good Omens One-Shots)

45; I Was Wrong

Context: I've read a few of those fics where the Bentley ships Crowley and Aziraphale and I thought it'd be fun to make one. Especially after that S2 finale. Plus, y'know, there's a certain angel who needs to apologize for what he did in said finale.

Over a year has gone by since The Guardian Of The Eastern Gate decided to go back to Heaven. Aziraphale goes to Crowley's flat. He knows they need to talk. Crowley knows it. (And the Bentley does too, much to the car owner's dismay.)

Word Count: 4,100

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It had been a very cold morning. Crowley hadn't bothered getting out of bed to water the plants yet. He figured he should have by now, but he just wasn't feeling it. He wasn't feeling much of anything, these days. Naturally, his plants were a bit concerned by the lack of screaming over the past year and a half, but they weren't about to start complaining about less daily threats of bodily harm.

When Crowley had first returned to the flat, he had been pleased that Shax hadn't really left a mark. Or any evidence that she ever lived there. It was better this way. Easier to sulk in the privacy of your own home. No humans ever bothered him here. And after everything that went down in Soho That Day, he had been left alone by everyone.

On most days, he slept. Some weeks, he drank. Sometimes 6 bottles of wine a day. Good way to numb the senses. And confuse local pub owners, whose booze kept magically disappearing whenever Crowley needed a new bottle. Last month, he decided to clean the flat. He cleared out over a hundred bottles and miracle'd them into all his neighbors' trash bins. The rubbish collectors that week were astonished by the amount and wondered how many parties were held in the apartment building.

But that was last month's chore. Today's was finding the motivation to get up and water the plants, so they wouldn't die on him again. He'd rather not have to use another miracle to bring them back to life. And he was fairly sure the plants didn't want that either. So, eventually, the demon dragged himself out of bed.

He was still in his usual silk pajamas and wrapped in a blanket while he filled the plant mister. They had behaved well. No spots, everything nice. No yelling required. Good. Easier to go back to sleep when he's not tense from screaming at the foliage. He sprayed them all down quickly, then wandered the hall for a bit.

He stared at the dove statue he had stolen from the destroyed church. His heart ached for a moment.

A small flash of light came from his office, behind him. He didn't even have to look, he knew who it was. He could always feel his angel's presence. No, that's right. Not his angel. Not anymore. Probably never was...

He was yanked out of his train of thought when Aziraphale spoke.

"Crowley?"

A chill went down his spine at the sound of his voice. "What do you want?"

"I needed to come see you. To talk to you."

Crowley snapped his shades on. "I think you talked enough That Day, in the bookshop."

Aziraphale fell to his knees. "Crowley, please-"

"Don't. Don't fucking start, Aziraphale." Said the demon, as he walked away from him. The redhead couldn't face him right now. He didn't know what else to do, other than run away. As he walked through his flat, his pajamas turned into normal clothes and he suddenly had shoes on as well. He then sprinted down to the Bentley.