Good Omens Oneshots

Overwhelming & Insecurities~

It all started with a simple gesture. A hand on his knee when he was driving. Aziraphale got excited when telling Crowley about a book he was reading, and did it subconsciously. He didn't even notice it, or Crowley's vowelless mutters, until he was dropped off at the bookshop.

Crowley went red in the face, his limbs went stiff, and his hair stood up on the back of his neck and on his arms. The angel never touches him. Never. It's silently forbidden.

A few weeks later, Aziraphale and Crowley were in the bookshop, as usual, and Crowley had fallen asleep sprawled out on the couch as Aziraphale made some tea. When Aziraphale saw him, he slipped in the space that wasn't covered with Crowley's loose limbs, and set a hand on the demon's shoulder as he read.

Crowley woke up a few minutes later to Aziraphale's thumb stroking the space between his shoulder and neck. Crowley shot up, out of instinct, and looked at Aziraphale wide-eyed. When Aziraphale asked what was wrong, genuinely confused, Crowley said it was a bad dream.

About a week ago, the two were driving to see Adam and The Them and Aziraphale placed a hand on Crowley's thigh, squeezing it as he panicked with how fast they were driving.

Crowley went stiff again, letting his foot off the gas, slowing the car down. He still hasn't gotten used to the angel's touch even though it's becoming more and more common.

Today, it was different. Aziraphale was taking any opportunity he found to touch Crowley. Small touches, brushing a hair out of his face, a hand on the shoulder to bring him back to the present, a tap on his wrist to remind him to stop making a fist and relax.

Aziraphale suggested going back to Crowley's flat after dinner, and Crowley got nervous for some reason. The two have never went back to his flat, Aziraphale's only been in his flat once or twice, but he didn't protest. The flat was clean, as it always was, and it would be nice not to drive home at a late hour tonight.

The two arrived and Crowley parked the car on the street, stepping out into the darkness of the nighttime. "Sorry if the place 's a bit messy." Crowley muttered, knowing it wouldn't be. He takes care of his living area. Keeps it nice and tidy on the off chance that someone will ever see it.

"Oh, it's alright dear. I don't mind." Aziraphale said, placing a hand on Crowley's shoulder. Crowley stiffened, again, and nodded, grabbing his keys to unlock the side door leading into the building.

When the two walk into the long hallway to the elevator, Crowley noticed that the two's hands were brushing together as they walked. Crowley's face went red and he became suspicious. The hallway was wide enough that the two could comfortably walk beside one another with at least a foot in between them. Why were they so close? Why had they been so close for the past few weeks?

As Crowley hit the up button on the elevator, he stepped back and his shoulder hit Aziraphale's. They didn't try to move away from one another. They stayed close by, bodies touching until the elevator made a 'ding' sound and the doors opened.

When nobody walked out of the elevator, Aziraphale took his chance. He pushed Crowley into the small area and took the collar of his shirt in his hands, pressing their mouths together quickly. Crowley responded instantly, realizing why they've been touching more and more recently.

He tilted his head and allowed Aziraphale's tongue to slip into his mouth. Crowley groaned and Aziraphale pressed him harder into the wall, slotting their legs tightly together.

The elevator doors shut, and they didn't move. They hadn't clicked a button yet. "Dear, what floor?" Aziraphale asks, pulling back from the kiss breathlessly.

Crowley took a few breathes, silenced by Aziraphale's lips. "F-four." Crowley's said, stuttering as his face began to heat up again. Aziraphale pressed the button for the fourth floor and Crowley gasped as Aziraphale went right back to kissing him.