Aziracrow song inspired one shots

Bohemian Rhapsody but make it Aziracrow

Crowley threw the empty wine bottle at the wall, smashing it to pieces. The bits landed on a pile of broken wine bottles. They've been collecting there for quite some time now, ever since Crowley let his drinking habits get out of hand. He looked over at the pile and snickered.

- "Fucking Angel..." - He muttered, shifting in his seat, - "...always gotta run away from me, don't cha!?...Big bad demon, too scary for a holy being, eh?"

The demon slurred out the words, talking to no one in particular. His gaze shifted to the ceiling, or more so to "up". He never really considered talking to God. Last time he tried he was kicked to the curb and sent down to Hell. She clearly didn't care for him, but who fucking cares at this point, right? A pathetic demon considering prayer, just because the love of his damned life left him. Now that is ridiculous. He chuckled, more so because he drank at least 7 bottles of wine that day and was drunk out of his mind than the fact that it was funny. Crowley's smile quickly faded though, when the thought of praying crossed his mind again. What has he got to lose? Before, it was his angel status, then it was his (more or less) peaceful existence here on Earth, then it was...

- "Fuck..." - He hissed.

It was Aziraphale. The most important one of all the things he could lose. The angel status be damned, he still is a supernatural being. His existence on Earth be damned, Alpha Centauri seems nice too. But not Aziraphale. Never Aziraphale. He was the one thing that would break Crowley if it was taken from him.

And here we are.

He sighed. Now he truly has nothing to lose. Not even his dignity. He's a dead man walking. Speaking of which, he sat up in his chair and leaned over the desk.

- "I can't believe I'm really gonna do this" - He grumbled, the drunkness making it hard to think straight. He'll blame it on that.

Another frustrated sigh left his mouth. Aziraphale left him and now it's come to this.

Crowley has to pray.

- "Hello mother." - He put his hands together, partially expecting praying to hurt, like being in the church, but nothing like that happened, so he continued, - "It's been a long time, huh?...I wouldn't talk to you if I didn't have a good reason..." - He looked over to a painting on his wall. A secret hiding spot behind it held a certain thermos. A thermos filled with holy water. Suddenly, another potentially stupid thought crossed Crowley's mind and he smiled dully. - "But here I am, so I must have one...right?"

***

Aziraphale stared out the gigantic window in Heaven. The landscape in front of him would undoubtedly make him marvel at the creations, if not for the circumstances. When Metatron said that he would become an Archangel, that he could make a change in Heaven, this wasn't what he imagined. It wasn't wonderful. It wasn't happy. It was...lonely. Painfully lonely.

- "What have I done..." - He grieved, his voice cracking.

What kind of an angel would leave his best friend to meddle in despair, while he escaped into what he thought was freedom and luxury? What kind of an angel would break his best friend's heart like that? Those questions stuck to his brain for the whole time he was here. And how long has he been here anyway? Time didn't exist in Heaven. Heaven is eternity. Eternity isn't limited by time. Heaven isn't limited by time. There are no mornings, noons, afternoons, evenings or nights in Heaven. There are no winters, springs, summers or autumns in Heaven. There are no plants, no animals and no elements in Heaven.

- "No nightingales..." - Aziraphale whispered.

Though angels technically had no organs, his heart ached. He was no regular angel either way. He had a physical form, he had likes and dislikes, he had emotions, he had a heart. A pained, aching heart. He deeply regretted coming here, but there's surely no going back to the regular life. If he wanted to go back, he would undoubtedly have his memories ereased, like Gabriel. The best he can do is visit Earth from time to time just to check up on things among the humans, but he's strictly forbidden from talking to Crowley. No one really told him explicitly what would happen, if he did try to visit him, but knowing what Heaven was capable of, he didn't want to risk it. He felt like a dog on a leash that was long enough for him to smell the food, but too short for him to reach it. He can't even remember how many times he visited Earth and just looked at Crowley from a distance, but never close enough to be spotted. It truly was painful to watch his best friend be so miserable, and yet being unable to help him. Just stuck watching him fall apart...from afar. He noticed that Crowley developed a fondness to drinking till he was numb and making a mess of his apartment. Aziraphale had been there many times when Crowley left for late night drives through the city. He had seen the piles of broken glass bottles, the pages of an astronomy book torn out and scattered on the floor, the photos of them laid out on Crowley's desk, like a sad display. His heart ached every time he saw Crowley drunk, crying over those photos and screaming about how stupid the angel was. Aziraphale understood his anger. He had every right to be upset. Heck, he was mad at himself for being stupid and leaving him. He believed Metatron. He believed that he could actually make a change in Heaven. What a sad joke. The Archangel status was like a personal punishment for disregarding Heaven. He was punished by being stuck here, away from Crowley, forced to watch him suffer.
Aziraphale sighed. So many times he had to fight himself not to run into Crowley's arms, comfort him and promise to never leave him. Sometimes when no one is around, Aziraphale likes to think about Crowley. Remember the way he always somehow walked hips first, the way he sang in his Bentley when he thought Aziraphale was asleep, the way he spoke when it was just the two of them...so softly. When they were alone, Crowley let himself be that tiny bit more vulnerable, let his walls down just enough to let Aziraphale take a peek. To others, Crowley was a narcissistic demon who loved chaos and mischief, but others didn't see the overjoyed angel watching his nebulae and stars come to life, marvelling at the beauty of cosmos. Deep down, Crowley was soft and gentle, capable of more kindness than any other angel in the eternity of Heaven. Deep down, Crowley had weaknesses, that only Aziraphale got to know.  The weaknesses that showed in his voice when he spoke. The little voice cracks and sounds he made when he was nervous showed it. Angel couldn't tell if Crowley was aware of how well he memorised all those sounds, how well he could tell what the demon was feeling just by listening to the groans and snickers.
Aziraphale couldn't help but smile at the thoughts of Crowley. After all, he cared about him deeply. Sometimes he can still hear his voice even in Heaven.