Falling Heavenward: A Good Omens Crowley/Aziraphale Fanfic

A place to go

For the first time in his life, Aziraphale wished he could urge a driver to break the speed limit. There was a black pool of anxiety welling up in him. Why hadn't he insisted on Crowley showing him Sandalphon's offer? He might not have remembered Crowley all that well, but surely some part of him knew that the dear boy sometimes went off and brooded and came up with ridiculous risky schemes like stealing holy water. The only way to keep him safe was to be by his side.

Aziraphale stared out at the impossibly slow traffic. Really, he would be better off walking, why hadn't he caught the Underground? He avoided it usually, all that press of bodies and, worse, the press of too many human sins and needs and unfulfilled wishes all around him, too many to help. It also tended to be too hot and to wrinkle his suit. Still, he felt that time was of the essence.

It was Aziraphale's fault, his heart told him, if Crowley did anything reckless and stupid to protect him. Aziraphale had spent centuries encouraging the pattern of a demon swooping in to rescue and comfort him whenever things went wrong. When had that started? In the beginning, it had been Aziraphale who had been the protective one, showing kindness to a lonely demon, saving him from the desert, teaching him to write and to integrate with human society, to enjoys its pleasures.

Somehow, the script had flipped, and stayed flipped. The end of Kukkatarma, perhaps. Rather than disappearing with his doubts and fears like he had after the Ark, he had allowed himself to be tempted into being held and comforted and let Crowley rage against the Heavens on his behalf, just long enough to understand how wonderful that felt. By the time he had fled, it was too late, because then it was Egypt and being at wit's end with Hagar and Ishmael and the fear of the consequences of his own rebellion, and a surprisingly kind demon coming in and making it right. Once he had accepted that he liked being rescued and have his pain soothed... well. Crowley had obviously enjoyed it as well. He wouldn't have rescued and comforted quite as reliably if not, glowering and smirking his way through chivalrous acts as if that could disguise his own pleasure at being needed.

Aziraphale had told himself it was part of his good work, nurturing a spark of goodness in Crowley. Truthfully, he thought, trying to will the taxi to go faster, it had been vanity and pride. Secret, selfish, unacknowledged pleasure that a demon, a creature so utterly Fallen, still chose to please him, do little kind favours, save him from trouble, and ultimately even defy Satan for his sake. He would act against all the principles of Hell just for the sake of the angel's company and a grateful smile. Aziraphale's sins stared him blankly in the face.

He prayed. Dear Lord, give me your aid and guidance to make this right for both of us. A careful prayer, no open offers, but from his whole heart and soul.

No answer. Of course, no answer. When was there one? Perhaps he should have Fallen right back in the Garden, the first time the demon smiled at him, and saved them both all this pain. If he had, this damned taxi would be going faster.

That was a thought. What would Crowley do? Ah, that was it. Just arrange that no one was in the car's way.

Aziraphale smiled beatifically despite his anxiety. "I think you can speed up now, my dear lady."

The cab driver looked dazedly at the suddenly unobstructed road in front of them, other vehicles peeling aside. "I—uh—" Aziraphale reached out and touched her arm soothingly. A small blessing. The woman's face cleared, and the taxi leapt forward.

Crowley never bothered to knock on the shop door, but Aziraphale was an angel. In any case, he didn't want to risk walking in on Crowley doing, ah... His mind sought for a concrete example, shied away from any that came up, and settled on catching him doing demonic things in the flat.