Good Omens - FanFic

I

AZIRAPHALE

Aziraphale and Crowley are sitting in a hot tub (five feet apart because they're not gay) out on the balcony of some random hotel they don't remember the name of. 'Mhm, say angel, how did we get here again?' Crowley said with his brows furrowed.

'I don't know, but this hot tub is absolutely lovely. Who would've thought this was a perfect idea to put a hot tub on an intricately designed balcony! Perfect breeze while at the same time your body is submerged into the warmth of this water,' Aziraphale said with enthusiasm, and slightly cocks his head towards Crowley. 'The view is absolutely stunning, don't you think? People can't see us from up here, right?'

The edges of Crowley's lips slightly lift up. 'I mean if they do, then they'll probably never see us again, you know? We could be in a completely different place by tomorrow. Hm, okay this is pretty quiet, might as well hit on some music,' he says with a bored tone.

——————————Ooh you're the best friend that I ever had

I've been with you such a long time———

Obviously Crowley would be playing Queen, the bloody demon surely wouldn't be playing much of anything else, Aziraphale thought, slightly irritated. Though he has to admit their music was a whole different form of art. 'Hey, Crowley, what happened to the guy you were handling earlier?'

'Who?'

'What do you mean 'who?' You were literally thinking of ruining that guy's life! Don't you think you could at least have been nicer?'

'No, he was being rude,' Crowley said with an offended voice, as if he had a right to be angry.

'But what did you do to him?'

'Uh, erm, I kind of dislocated his arm. Oh, and the legs.'

Aziraphale's brows lift in disbelief. 'Crowley! Heaven's sake! That's not nice at all.'

Crowley looked obviously conflicted, his lips slightly pouting. 'He was being rude to you! I had to do something, and teach that little twat a lesson. No one should ever mock your fluff-puff hair, '

Aziraphale smirks.'Aw, you care about me. You know, you should become a lawyer at some point, I think you'll suit that role,' Aziraphale said, smiling smugly.

Crowley frowns slightly, 'Are you possibly drunk? I have never heard you suggest such a thing.' Aziraphale ignores him and turns halfway and looks down at the city, which is a stunning blur of hazy warm colours. He finally realises that they're both quite literally naked in a bathtub, and becomes self-conscious of his human form and blushes. Minutes pass by as Aziraphale looks up at the sky while Crowley closes his eyes and inhales the rich blue of the night. 'Say, Crowley, why do you still have your glasses on? No one is looking but me.'

'Right, sorry I wear them quite often,' he sighs as he puts his glasses down. Crowley's eyes are are oddly fascinating, Aziraphale thinks to himself. Such a piercing colour, with a slightly orange hue around his snake eyes, and his eyes hold some very weight that Aziraphale may never decipher. Like a book that was never opened. Now that he thinks about it, Crowley looks a lot easier to read without his glasses on. His face is rather sculpted nicely, a cute goofy demon face. Aziraphale snickers at this thought, and Crowley's attention snaps towards him.

CROWLEY

Crowley's thoughts are scattered all over the place. He actually really didn't know how he got here, and he feels flustered at the moment. But do hotels like this really exist? The balcony is rather spacious, with a comfortable looking-beach-like couch on the corner with a table, and a stack of plants by the fence around them. The balcony looks impressive though the plants are not as beautiful as the ones in his flat. His eyes tilt slightly. He enjoys spending time with Aziraphale, and loves the expression he makes every time they try out new dishes. It's refreshing to hear Aziraphale speak, and he feels so at ease and secure with Aziraphale that it terrifies him. It's a bit embarrassing to admit that he still wants to cup Aziraphale's cheeks, as it has been a temptation he's been longing for almost 6000 years. Be patient. The moment will come. No it wont. What are you doing here Crowley? What exactly are you scheming? What do you even want from this angel? Crowley looks at Aziraphale's laughing face. I want to be with him. Too bad he only has half of one brain cell. This one thought ruined his moment and he was feeling moody all of a sudden, like the dramatic bitch he is with his plants.

'Hey, angel do you want some wine? Why not enjoy ourselves?' Crowley says rather dryly.

'Sure! I'd love that! Can you bring in some cake too? Sorry I really like cake.' Crowley merely nods. Cute and quirky, he thinks. That'll be the death of me. His heart races slightly, and this time it feels as though it has dropped all the way to the ground and back up again. They talk and talk, going through their drunk, odd trances that makes no sense whatsoever to anyone else but to themselves. '-well I'm bionked,' said Aziraphale somewhere along slurring up his words. 'That's buggerful. Wait, what?' Crowley says, slightly shocked.'You know I don't like it when people misuse their English to sound intelligent,' Aziraphale scorns, his face going red and looking rather constipated. He closes his eyes for a few seconds - probably to think of his next words really, because they both were clearly having a hard time to construct sentences that makes sense. 'Buggerrrr off,' Aziraphale says. Crowley slightly pouts and says, 'Fine, look away if you don't want to see a naked man getting out of a tub then!'

'Fine by me,' Aziraphale says, actually sounding irritated and turns around.

Gosh, Crowley thinks to himself. Is Aziraphale really that drunk? He thought he was more dramatic. Does he really take his English that seriously? Crowley puts on a robe and walks around the dull lit hotel room. He groans. Technically demons don't really need to sleep, but Crowley swears that his body is uncomfortable after the consumption of too much alcohol. His mind is too bottled up from talking earlier that he jumps into bed and barely thinks of his surroundings. His body merely feels exhausted, aching from the effort of suppressing his desires. All he processed was a rather nice hotel room that was modern looking. The bed feels quite amazing against his limp body. Cool against warmth. Smooth against greasy. Is there only one bed? he thinks to himself. He was too tired to even answer the question. In a few seconds he's already sleeping.