Falling Heavenward: A Good Omens Crowley/Aziraphale Fanfic

Wine #237

Crowley sauntered to the bar. The bartender grinned at him, and lifted an eyebrow.

"We're up to 158, aren't we, Anthony?"

"Nah. Got a guest. Think he'd like number 237."

The bartender looked over with interest. "Wouldn't have picked him. Thought you were the kind to chase younger tail, pretending to relive your lost and wasted youth."

"My youth is long lost, Mark." Crowley was beginning to feel irritated. "Longer ago and more wasted than you could possibly imagine. And not in any way recoverable."

"You're not as long in the tooth as all that. Pretty well preserved." The bartender poured two glasses of #237. "Still, I wouldn't have imagined you with the fluffy professorial type. I suppose he's very well off," he added cynically.

"Not as well off as me," Crowley said curtly. Part of him was enjoying this. He knew perfectly well what humans assumed when he said angel. And there was a tiny thrill each time they made the assumption, as if it was a confirmation that they were eternally paired in some way, even if Adversaries.

"Settling down, then? Comes to us all. Well, I'd look lively, if you care to protect your territory. Can't bring in anything that rich looking and leave it unattended in a hive of villainy like this." Mark jerked his head meaningfully.

Crowley followed the movement, swore, and picked up the glasses in one hand and the bottle in the other. "Send my friend some of those sweet things."

An extremely good looking young man with tattooed on eyeliner was having his hand patted soothingly by Aziraphale, and looked up guiltily as Crowley approached. Crowley considered momentarily changing forms, possibly to the one with all the maggots, but settled for, "That seat's taken. Get out."

The young man took in his expression and hastily obeyed. Crowley set the glasses down and swung onto his stool.

"That," said Aziraphale, "was discourteous, even for you."

"I'm discourteous? You were supposed to be drinking with me. But if you'd prefer picking up random humans, I suppose your shop is making a mint these days, so don't let me get in your way." He splashed the drink into his mouth without tasting it. He knew he was deliberately taking things in the worst possible way, but the even you had stung. The young man had been truly obscenely good looking, in a very human way. Almond green eyes, not bulging and yellow.

Aziraphale took a prim sip, and let the silence settle long enough that Crowley began to feel stupid and embarrassed for over reacting. He was sure he used to be better at keeping his cool than that.

"Look, angel—"

"Whatever that young man does or not do for a living, which is none of our business, he was in a lot of distress. And it is, as you are quite aware, part of my job to help humans through their problems and find a solution that doesn't damage their souls."

"You just can't help yourself, can you? You don't have a job any more! No one is keeping score, not for us."

Aziraphale bit his lip, and Crowley would have bit his too, except that he had trouble keeping control of his fangs when he was upset. The pale blue eyes were very round, and hurt, and everything had been feeling just wonderful only a few minutes ago.

"Perhaps not," Aziraphale said, after a while. "But my nature has not changed, nor have my powers. If you think I want to help myself from aiding and comforting others, then you're mistaken."

"I'm not going on with my job," Crowley said savagely. "Catch me doing the Devil's work for no pay."

Aziraphale looked not only wounded, now, but sorrowful. "Are you sure you can help yourself? Your fundamental nature, dear boy."