Fallen ~•A Good Omens Fanfiction •~

Chapter 15: The gifts

Chapter 15: The gifts
By Crowley

  The XIXth century has mostly been a mass of senseless events, boredom and sleep, because of that. Aziraphale and I had a fight about something I was asking for and that he wouldn't give me. I understand he was upset, but to the point of throwing me away – almost literally?
  I prefered sleeping a good hundred years to forget than staying awake and mad at him.
  The XXth century was another story. The angel and I made up and he finally gave me what I wanted. I understood why he was so reluctant. A hundred years before, I had been through a period of depression, and clearly I thought about… Well, ending it all. I knew he didn't want me to die. Still, I had thought about leaving him. When I thought about it, in my Bentley, without any suicidal thoughts, I understood what he could have felt back then. I wouldn't have supported it if he had abandoned me, I knew that, and he probably felt the same. If, even more, I had given him what he needed to do so, I would have… felt so bad, so horrible, I don’t know what I could’ve done or become. It had been awfully selfish from me to ask that to him, to my best friend. And still, he gave it to me.
  It must’ve been a tough decision. He hated the thought I could let him down this way – I was sure of that. And though now, I didn't think about suicide anymore, I was grateful he did it. I read the guilt and worry in his eyes as he gave me the bottle, and somehow that warmed my heart.
  Aziraphale cared about me.

***

  ‘Angel!’ I called out.
  ‘I’m coming, my dear, just one second!’
  I smiled. He was probably getting a new book arrival sorted, as he was used to. He was getting a lot of books at that time. At last, the bookshop was starting to look like one.
  ‘I’m here,’ he said as he appeared from behind one pile of books and papers. ‘Sorry, just a bit of sorting, I didn't see the time.’
  ‘Yeah, I see, you haven’t even opened the bookshop this morning,’ I teased him. ‘Neither have you this afternoon.’
  After this declaration, he looked extremely worried.
  ‘What time is it?’
  ‘Almost seven,’ I answered.
  He really spent the whole day there without noticing?
  ‘Oh my,’ he muttered.
  ‘Anyways, I’ll take you to the Ritz, it sure will help. Come on, Angel, you Can still finish your sorting afterwards.’
  I pulled him with me anyways.
  In the beginning of the 2000s, I had used a small miracle to give my Bentley a conscience. I’ve always cared about her a lot, and now she was really getting to know me, like, way more than she was supposed to. I started to drive and, feeling Aziraphale’s presence, she started to play Queen. Of course. I went faster as “You’re My Best Friend” started playing. It was the Bentley’s way of expressing herself – as a car, she couldn't talk – and she really liked Aziraphale.
  Just like me, somehow. And she perfectly knew how much I liked him, I couldn’t help but tell her a lot about my life. If cars could talk, I’d probably have been in trouble with this one.
  I noticed Aziraphale started to hum the song. Since when did he know it? He’d never been a big fan of that kind of music. I encouraged him by singing, not so loud, but enough for him to hear. He sang along, timidly at first, and we ended up singing so loud we couldn’t even hear the music anymore. He was totally absorbed by it, and I could take the time to stare at him, simply enjoying that he was here with me. The music eventually changed, and we stayed silent. He looked at me and hesitantly brushed my hair with his fingers.
  ‘I like the long hair,’ he said. ‘It does suit you well.’
  ‘Maybe you should try it at some point,’ I said.
  ‘I don’t think so,’ he said with a little wince.
  ‘Mmh. Whatever. We’re here, by the way.’
  I helped him out of the car and took him to the restaurant. They miraculously had a table for two open, and they welcomed us with smiles and great manners. As always.
  As we were waiting for our food – I didn't take anything –, I asked Aziraphale about what took him so long to sort.
  ‘Oh, nothing much, actually I got to read the first page of a new book and I couldn't leave it…’
  I smiled. Yeah, that was very Aziraphale-ish to do that. My hand fell on my jacket pocket and I suddenly remembered why I wanted to go there in the first place.
  ‘Hey, there’s something I wanted to give you. Well, two things actually, but it doesn't matter. So.’
  I pushed an enveloppe towards him.
  ‘You’ll open it when I’m gone. And also, I got you this…’ I added as I pulled something out of my pocket.
  The “something” was a bookmark I had bought especially for him. When I had seen it in the shop, through the glass, I had instantly known it had been made for him. Well, for us. It was made of painted cardboard and represented a pair of wings, pure white feathers, surrounded by a black snake and overlooked by an apple tree. A thin golden line marked the outline of the image, truly sumptuous.
  ‘Oh my…’ he murmured.
  He looked into my eyes. I knew he couldn't say a thing – it represented so much for him, and for me. He didn't need to thank me out loud. His eyes did it just fine.
  ‘Hope you like it,’ I commented though I knew the answer already.
  ‘I love it, Crowley.’
  As I watched him eating, gazing at the bookmark I got him, I was happy. “Definitely worth it,” I thought. And it was.
  After dinner, I gave him a lift home – the Bentley decided to play “Good Old-fashioned Lover Boy”, this time, but we didn't sing – and went back to my apartment with a smile on my face. The plants shaked in fear as I got near but I passed by without howling. This night they’d be spared the threat, I was too satisfacted and calm for that. Lucky them.