An Ineffable Love Story

Cosmic Love 🤍

"You idiot," Crowley spat. His golden eyes were shielded from the angel by his steampunk sunglasses, signifying his disappointment. "We could've been... us."

Aziraphale looked away, turning his nose up to the ceiling. He wasn't happy about this either, but he wasn't complaining! He'd much prefer to spend eternity in his bookshop, with home comforts and cake... and Crowley. But an angel could not refuse the Metatron, the literal voice of the Almighty, could they? He wished he could have said no, but he felt trapped and more pessimistic about the future than ever. His heart sinking, he knew that he would just end up following the same old orders, and nothing would ever change. And he'd be alone.

Crowley turned as if to leave. Go on, thought the angel. Leave me. I'll never see you again. He wanted to cry, but he refused to let any tears fall in front of the demon.

But Crowley didn't go. Instead, he did something very unexpected indeed.

The demon strode purposefully across the shop towards the angel, seizing the lapels of his cream overcoat. Their faces were only inches apart, and Aziraphale's breath hitched in his throat, as the demon crossed the distance between them and kissed him.

For a second Aziraphale did not compute. Surely this couldn't be happening? A demon, albeit a demon who wasn't quite as evil as he pretended to be, and who Aziraphale really fancied, was kissing him, an angel. But it felt so good, so right. He'd been waiting for this moment for six thousand years.

Crowley pulled away, a tinted blush creeping across his cheeks. He really hadn't thought this through, and now he was about to lose his best friend, his only friend. All of his good memories involved the angel, the way he'd exclaim "Crowley!" when their paths crossed through the ages. He'd made a terrible mistake. He turned to go, vowing to never show his face in London in the future, when he felt a hand on his arm.

"Crowley, wait."

The demon spun round to see Aziraphale staring at him. "I— I've been wanting you to do that for a very long time." He stared at the floor, embarrassed. "I'm so sorry, Crowley. I could never leave you behind. And... I don't want to go to Heaven anyway. I don't want to go anywhere without you."

And he burst into tears.

Crowley rushed over. He usually had absolutely no clue how to comfort people, and since he was a demon, it wasn't really in his job description. But he wrapped the weeping angel up in his arms, and Aziraphale buried his face in his chest. Crowley rested his chin on Aziraphale's head. His fluffy hair smelled so good, like honey and sugar-spun candyfloss but with a hint of something deeper, muskier. He didn't know how long they stayed like that, but eventually the angel pulled away, laughing tearily.

"I've ruined your shirt."

"It doesn't matter, Angel," the demon replied. His voice seemed different. He wasn't hiding away behind a mask of hard indifference or sarcasm, but showing his true self for the first time in centuries. "Nothing matters anymore, except us."

"We're on our side now, Crowley," whispered Aziraphale. "No Heaven or Hell. Remember when you said that in the bandstand at St. James' Park? Well, it's true. We don't need them."

This was the best day of Crowley's life, even better than when he created the nebula... and met Aziraphale for the first time. After he had Fallen, he had remembered that day a thousand times, recalling every detail about his creation, and the beautiful angel he'd met. It was often the only thing that drove him to push on through the darkness and hatred and pain.

"I have to go now," said Aziraphale. Icy fear spread through Crowley's veins. Of course he'd just imagined this. No-one, and especially not an angel, would ever love him. "I'm going to tell the Metatron I'm rejecting his offer. Stay there."

The angel hurried out of the shop, and Crowley sank down onto the tartan sofa, his head in his hands. His mind was whirling, and he was half wondering whether this was a dream or some kind of new torture method dreamed up by one of the brighter supernatural beings. He sat, unmoving, until the bell tinkled and Aziraphale returned. "There," he smiled. "They're gone now. It's just us. We've got forever. What do you want to do now?"

Crowley grinned, stood up, and pulled the angel close to him. He kissed him again, then said, "Let's go for that extremely alcoholic breakfast. Let's dine at the Ritz."

Aziraphale slipped his hand into Crowley's, and together they left the shop, walking towards an eternity of cosmic love and an extraordinary amount of alcohol.

🖤🤍

~803 words~
This is the first instalment in my Good Omens book! I hope you enjoyed it. Please comment to tell me if you liked it and to suggest any more ideas. If I choose yours I will credit you! Also if you REALLY liked it, please vote for my story, it would mean the world to me! xx