Compilation of Good Omens One Shots

To Hell and back

Context: Human Crowley and angel Aziraphale. I don't know what to say apart from that ;-;

4019 words

·•§•·

  “Do you see the humans, down on Earth?”
  “Yes.”
  “Well, what do you think about them?”
  “They’re… I don’t know.”
  “Fragile? Small? Ignorant?”
  “Maybe…”
  “What would you say to looking after them?”
  “That would be an honour, Almighty.”

***

  Aziraphale wasn’t supposed to get really interested in any particular human life, but he had never been good at following the rules. To be fair, it had never been said out loud, more of a mutual agreement he didn’t know about. He had been sent on the Earth to look after the humans, as God had said. Most angels considered it a burden, a punishment for something She wasn’t happy with. Aziraphale did consider it an honour, and it was quite nice and easy to blend in with the humans. He was enjoying himself – maybe a little too much. He had followed Adam and Eve, then their children, and their descendants through the millenia, and now he was in London, owning a small bookshop in Soho. He signed with the name of “A. Fell”, pretending that the shop had been in his family for generations – by the time, a great-grandfather named A. Z. Fell, as announcing on the front sign – and noone suspected anything weird from him. Actually, he was the perfect neighbour, always kind and polite, loved by his fellow shop owners and regular customers. More likely were they visitors, because he barely sold books, but they always had lovely chats. He had several reasons to stay on Earth rather than in Heaven: music, sushi, bakery (food in general), books, his bookshop, and so on.

  And, more recently, he had met Crowley.

  He didn’t know if it was a good or a bad thing, not yet. But he was definitely sure that this man, underneath the sharp and hard shell he presented, was a kind and great person. Very far underneath. But he was determined to make that part of his personality come to the surface, whether he liked it or not. Aziraphale barely knew Crowley – the man had only ever entered the bookshop once – but there was something, he couldn’t exactly put a word on it, something about this human that made him worthy of attention. The angel figured where Crowley was working, in a simple flower shop, quite close to his own, and wondered why they’d never met before. “Why don’t I simply go to his shop, and see how he’s doing?” thought Aziraphale. The address sounded familiar anyways… He headed there.

  ‘Eden’s flowers…’ he murmured under his breath.

  He was right, he knew the address. It hadn’t always been named like this, but he knew the last owner of the shop. A little old man, very polite and always smiling, a pleasure to be around… What happened to him? Well, it was the occasion to ask.

  The bell rang as he opened the door. It was much quieter inside, of that kind of reassuring silence, one that seemed to say “you’re safe here”. The exterior look of the shop was colourful, beautifully designed and the scent of the compositions was amazing. But inside, it seemed to be even more perfect, as if unlike the other sellers, Crowley had decided to keep the best out of sight. The colours were delicately blended together, and the scent was… heavenly.

  ‘Can I help you?’ asked a voice.

  Aziraphale turned round, embarrassed. He hadn’t even noticed the other's presence.

  ‘Oh, well, hello. I’m Mr Fell, the…’
  ‘The bookseller,’ completed Crowley. ‘Yeah, I remember. Anything you’re interested in?’
  ‘Actually, I’ve been wondering what happened to Mr Salvatore?’
  ‘He retired,’ quickly replied Crowley.