Falling Heavenward: A Good Omens Crowley/Aziraphale Fanfic

Playing games

London, Present Day

Some habits had become worked his way into the human-like neurological connections of this human-like brain over the millennia, and one of them was the habit of what to do when he was feeling lost and alone.Crowley picked up his phone, and his thumb moved automatically to his contacts. Work—Aziraphale.

Then it paused.

Now, that was a thing. Why would the seraph Botis have Aziraphale's name listed at all, let alone under work? Why would he have a collection of lush houseplants, a garbage disposal just the right size for the execution of any stragglers, a collection of credit cards in the name of Anthony J. Crowley, and a lovingly maintained Bentley?

He was unFallen. There was no doubt of that. So shouldn't he feel different? And the former Archangel Gabriel was Fallen. That, too, was clear. There was no way Asmodeus was faking it, he had the sheer glee in unpleasantness as Hastur, only far better groomed.

If Crowley—Botis—was a seraph, he had to power to go to Heaven and, well, ask what he was doing on Earth. The problem was that fear and revulsion still clenched Crowley's stomach at the idea of going back there. Kerubiel. There was no way a Cherub would take the calls of a demon, but Asmodeus had known his weak spot right enough. Crowley was shit-scared of Kerubiel. He had always disliked thunder and lightning, and every time Kerubiel blinked he thought he would be fried. "Hey, Kerubiel, it's me. I see to remember betraying you and Falling, but I seem to be a seraph now with no memories. How about that?"

Not happening.

Crowley closed his eyes, leaning his cheek against the soothingly cool glass surface of his phone. He was feeling--

—angry. Really angry. Really, really fucking angry. Now the initial panic and feeling of being caught had subsided, rage was welling up with all the fire and brimstone he usually kept suppressed on the grounds that it literally wasn't cool. How dare Gabriel or Asmodeus or whoever he was play games with him like that? How dare he play games like that with Aziraphale? No one messed with Aziraphale, not anymore. Crowley hadn't defied Satan himself so that they, whoever they were, could treat Aziraphale like a plaything.

Demonic contracts. He'd give Asmodeus demonic contracts. Crowley wasn't Dagon's underling for nothing. Paperwork was an art he had been practicing for subterfuge, corruption and advantage for centuries. Go on, send him the paperwork. He would add so many modifications and clauses that it would make Asmodeus' head spin like he was being exorcised. And oh, Crowley could keep paperwork going back and forth for a very, very, very long time without signing anything. The trick, he bitterly knew from his first mistake, back before paperwork was a thing, was to eternally postpone signing.

He had managed to keep Aziraphale's bookshop away from forcible acquisition for half a century without Aziraphale needing to waste a frivolous miracle or Crowley having to kill anyone. When you could deal with human lawyers paid by the Mob, then contracts with Hell were nothing.

Crowley was sick and tired of playing silly buggers with Heaven and Hell. But if he was going to play it, he was going to play it to win.

The scorecard was Aziraphale's heart? Oh, that was offensive. That was offensive enough that it was actually hard to hold a human form when his teeth felt like they should be dripping venom. But it was also really, really stupid to do at this point. Maybe a few days ago it might have intimidated him. Maybe with I don't even like you and It's over and the heartbreaking finality of I forgive you ringing in his head.

Not after all the hand holding. Not after the way Aziraphale had looked at him back in the flat, with all the sadness and longing in the world. Not after the secret kiss on top of his head. Maybe Aziraphale didn't want to be his lover yet, maybe he even thought he was Asmodeus' lover, but Crowley already had his heart. He had already won the game, such as it was. He had to hang onto that confidence.