"Crowley!" Aziraphale called, the rain nearly drowning out his voice. "Crowley wait! Please it's me!" Crowley turned around, trying to look unimpressed by the angel's sudden appearance.
"Oh hello mister Archangel sir, how lovely of you to visit." He said, as sarcastically as he could muster.
"Look, I know you're still mad at me but I came here to apologize! The Metatron...he did something to me. I'm not sure what but I've only just been able to break out of it and come to my senses and I-I love you Crowley. Okay. There, I said it. I wanted to say it in the bookshop but whatever he did to me...prevented me from saying it. I'm sorry that I hurt you, here." Aziraphale proceeded to do a very rushed and very poor version of their apology dance. He almost slipped on the wet ground.
Crowley's gaze softened and he smiled, he paced out into the rain and over to the Angel. He lifted up his chin as Aziraphale put his arms down and concluded the dance.
"Oh Angel," Crowley began, "I love you too you bastard." Aziraphale lunged forward and kissed Crowley the way he had wanted to back in the bookshop. He grabbed the color of his now soaking wet jacket and pulled him closer.
"Are you crying, Angel?" Crowley asked as he pulled away, his eyebrows furrowed with concern.
"No, it's just the rain, but I feel as though I could cry. I've felt so bad about leaving you since the moment I let you walk out of the bookshop."
"No no no you didn't let me, you begged me to stay if I recall. I was the one who left anyway." Crowley reassured him.
"Yes but I still got on that elevator. I remember looking at you and thinking that I should just run to you, forget everything and jump into your arms because nothing else would matter after that. But my legs just wouldn't move." Aziraphale was crying now and Crowley pulled him in close, putting a hand on his head and letting him fall into his chest.
"It's okay, Angel. It's all okay now, you've come back to me and I-you know what I forgive you." He said, looking down with a smile, a hand ruffling through Aziraphale's wet hair. Aziraphale looked up at him and smiled too.
"I thought that was supposed to be my thing." He said,
"Well what do ya know, a demon can change." Crowley pressed a soft kiss on Aziraphale's forehead and they both stood in the rain until eventually the clouds parted and the sun shone again. A nightingale sang in the damp morning light.
YOU ARE READING
Good Omens One Shots
FantasyI took a writing class at the peak of my Good Omens hyperfixation, as a result I accumulated quite a few Good Omens fics in my notes. You can string them together somehow if you want, but the plots are not related to each other. Enjoy.
