Unrighteous Anger

Disclaimer: Good Omens, along with its characters, locations, etc. are the property of Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett. If I owned the rights to it, I wouldn't still be desperate to meet the man that I absolutely ADORE: David Tennant.

Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley are holding hands on the bus on the way back from the airbase when a man confronts them, saying they are sinning and going against God. Crowley deals with the homophobic man, accidently confessing his love for Aziraphale in the process. Hurt/Comfort, angst, fluff, homophobia. Rated T.

A/N: Even being a straight woman, I've noticed that this world is full of bigots, and homophobes are one of the biggest groups. I just wanted to write a little fluffy fic to try to highlight the issue. Review if you like it!

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Unrighteous Anger

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When Crowley and Aziraphale had boarded the bus to bring them back to London, they had wordlessly agreed to sit side by side, and to hold hands as they were whisked away from Tadfield. They both needed the comfort, the reassurance, that everything had turned out, and they were safe.

The Earth was safe.

As Crowley and Aziraphale sat in silence, holding hands for mutual comfort but not quite ready to speak about the events that they had just witnessed, Crowley found himself reminiscing about all the times that they had spent together.

The Garden, the Flood, the crucifixion, World War Two. And now the Apocalypse.

Crowley looked at Aziraphale through the corner of his eye, studying how his was sitting with a slump to his back, and how his mouth was downturned like he was upset.

Which was reasonable, since they had just prevented the end of the world, making the angel come to the realization that Heaven wasn't all good.

Crowley unconsciously tightened his grip on their angel's hand, trying to give him the comfort that he needed. He'd known Heaven wasn't all good since his Fall, since before that, even. He'd known that Heaven wanted the war as much as Hell did, making the day's events a lot less shocking and heartbreaking to him that they were to Aziraphale.

Crowley idly stroked his thumb along Aziraphale's knuckles, turning away as the bus slowed down and picked up a few people that were waiting at a stop.

Most of the people settled in the front, or walked past Crowley and Aziraphale as if they weren't even there, which was perfectly fine by Crowley. He knew that neither of them wanted or needed any attention.

Then, a man in his late forties, with thinning hair and a seemingly permanent grimace, stopped abruptly in front of them with a look of shock and anger on his face.

"What on God's Earth do you think you're doing?!" he asked, kneeling on the seats in front of them and staring at them over the back.

"What?" Aziraphale asked wearily, with the air of someone who had just woken from a deep sleep.

"The two of you..." the man glared at their joined hands. "That's a sin!" he spat.

Crowley heard Aziraphale growl (growl?) and knew that things were going to take a turn for the worse if he didn't act. He squeezed Aziraphale's hand, attempting to calm him and keep him from any unnecessary smiting.

"Let me handle it, angel." He muttered.

"Angel?" the man snapped, a look of indignation on his ugly face.

"Is there a problem, sir?" Crowley asked politely, trying, for once, not to scare the man away. He wanted to deal with this properly.

"The two of you are... together! That goes against God!" the man practically yelled.