Personal Curiosity - A Good Omens fanfiction

Pretending

Crowley was pretending to sleep on Aziraphale's couch. Pretending, because he didn't need the sleep and because it was an excuse to exist for hours at a time in Aziraphale's shop without suspicion. Crowley had done it the first time by accident to avoid answering certain irritating questions Aziraphale had been asking. The plan had been so effective he'd made a habit of it. Aziraphale would bustle around his shop or sit and read and sigh over some probably awful paragraph and it was...nice.

Once, Aziraphale had even put a blanket over him and then gone off humming like it was nothing.

Crowey hadn't come back for a month after that.

He'd gone on some errand in Russia with lots of vodka, loud men, louder women, and very cold water. May have talked some idiots into plans for a coup.

Now, slumped comfortably across the length of Aziraphale's antique-style couch, he couldn't imagine staying away for a month. Where would he relax?

He peeked one eye open beneath is sunglasses. Aziraphale sat across the room reading a book in a royal blue cover. Crowley watched his eyes skim each line. Watched as the angel's eyebrows rose and then a warm, indulgent smile grew and then, still smiling, his eyes lifted to Crowley.

Crowley immediately shut his eye. He didn't think Aziraphale had noticed--plus he was wearing the sunglasses, but still. He remained perfectly still, making an incredible effort to keep the rise and fall of his chest a normal pace, as if his heart wasn't thundering in his chest.

Seconds passed. Then minutes. Crowley wanted to open his eye again but didn't dare. What if Aziraphale was still looking at him?

Idiot, he thought to himself. Why would he still be looking?

Cautiously, Crowley cracked open the one eye again. Aziraphale wasn't looking at him. He was back to looking at his book, this time with pursed lips. Crowley had to stare for a moment to see it, and even then he wasn't quite sure, but he could've sworn Aziraphale was a slightly darker shade of pink than he usually was.

Well, that was probably enough indulgence for the day.

Stretching his arms over his head, Crowley yawned wide and then slumped down as if he were still tired before sitting up half properly.

"Oh," said Aziraphale, looking over. "You're awake."

"Yup."

"Did you have a pleasant nap?"

Crowley sniffed indifferently. "It was alright."

A crease fluttered over Aziraphale's face. He closed his book on his finger. "Would you like some tea?"

Crowley debated a moment. He didn't really want to leave but he was reaching the limit where he felt he could stay. He didn't know exactly what the limit meant, but he could always feel it approaching, like a personal armageddon.

He checked his watch. "Better not," he said. "Someone's probably waiting to yell at me in my car."

"I don't know why they still bother you," Aziraphale said. "You would think they'd just leave you alone after everything."

"That would be too nice." Crowley stood. Aziraphale stood too.

"Are you stopping in tomorrow?" Aziraphale asked.

The question seemed innocent enough but Crowley felt alarm bells going off.

"Maybe. Why?"

"I have a lead on a book by a promising new author. I might not be in when you come by."

"Oh," Crowley said. He cleared his throat to cover up whatever expression was on his face. "I mean, I come for the couch, you don't have to be here."

"Right," said Aziraphale. "I--nevermind."

Crowley raised an eyebrow. "What?"

Aziraphale flapped a hand. "Nevermind. It's silly. Go on. You said someone was probably waiting."

"Well, yeah, but--go on, just say it. It's gonna drive me up the bloody wall wondering if you don't."

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. "If you must know, I was going to ask if you wanted to accompany me."

Crowley made a face. "Probably a bad idea. Me? Promising new author? I might ruin it."

"Don't be daft."

"Besides I don't read."

"There won't be any reading." Aziraphale was turning pink. "I told you it was silly. It doesn't matter." He sat back down harder than necessary and cracked his book open again.

Crowley hesitated in the doorway. He should just go. He knew it was a bad idea. He should just walk off and come back tomorrow whenever Aziraphale was back. As if he came for the couch.

"I'll pick you up in the morning," Crowley said and then slipped out the door.

"But it's in the afternoon!"

"Fine, then we'll get breakfast or something," Crowley growled over his shoulder, pushing open the front door of the shop and fleeing before someone noticed how he looked.