Never Explain Anything: A Crowley/Aziraphale Good Omens fanfic

Frightening and at the same time most exciting

In the Rolls on the way back to the hotel, a second piece of pink paper decorated with cute black snakes with huge yellow eyes fluttered through the closed open window. Crowley caught it, and it immediately burst into flames.

He swore and blew on his fingers, and the paper burned away, leaving a piece of parchment. He read it in silence, a serpentine grin beginning to form, and passed it over to Aziraphale.

"Well?" Aziraphale asked at last.

"It's a Commendation. A Low Commendation. Haven't had one of those since creating MySpace."

"For what?"

"For dispatching the traitor Ligur, for preventing the Rebellion happening too early, for protecting the Son of my Master from the virtuous plans of the Archangel Gabriel, and for demonstrating to the rank and file that the power of Heaven will not keep them in fear forever and even holy water can be overcome. Oh, and corrupting a Principality into working with me for the benefit of Hell."

"So that's how they are swinging it," Aziraphale said slowly. "Does this mean it's not over?"

"We'll see. Depends on Adam, I suppose."

"Then we'll be fine."

"Or until the next child."

Aziraphale sighed. "What about that poor imp? How are they excusing its extinction?"

"Didn't mention it. They kill imps for fun all the time down there, anyway. They mass-produce them in a pit somewhere."

A second paper followed. This time Crowley tried to be more careful, to no avail. "Ouch. Oh, okay, it's an unofficial memo. Dagon says Hastur and Beezlebub refuse to work with my flash arse any longer, that my pay is reduced for the next century, and that I'll still report to Dagon with paperwork but I'm being reassigned to Belthegor for command."

"She's Prince of Sloth, isn't she? Well, then. She will be perfect for you," Aziraphale beamed.

"Catty, but true." Crowley flung himself across the bar seat and latched his arms around Aziraphale's waist, head down on his shoulder. "Aziraphale, queen of my heart, tell me you're happy I'm staying on Earth with you."

"I never doubted it for a moment. I wouldn't have let us be separated after all we went through. But of course, I'm happy, dearest boy." He wrapped his arms around Crowley's back. "Shouldn't you have your seatbelt on?"

Crowley ignored that as unworthy of response. "Call me your husband again."

"Crowley."

Crowley laughed, sounding drunk. He rubbed his face against Aziraphale's neck. "Close enough."

"You're hopeless."

"Not quite. In fact, a very long way off hopeless." He kissed Aziraphale's earlobe.

"But, my dear, if you need help paying for the hotel—"

"Nah. Hell don't understand Earth currency anyway. Besides, it's been a long time since they were my main source of support."

"What is?"

"Currently, microtransactions."

"Micro what?"

"Don't worry about it, angel. It's all free will."

Aziraphale hummed, sure he should disapprove if he took the time to understand. Still, he had been more worried than he had ever been going to admit even to himself, and an affectionate bundle of silk-clad demon in his arms felt more wonderful than any sense or reason would justify. His earlobe was tingling.