Good Omens - FanFic

II

AZIRAPHALE
Aziraphale tries to sober up while he's sinking into the hot tub. It takes himself a huge amount of effort to focus on the rising alcohol in his blood, of the individual cells he's going to have to control, and it all seems too much for his brain to process. But then it happens, though his headache suddenly worsens somewhere along his forehead and he feels awfully dizzy. 'I think I'm an idiot,' Aziraphale murmurs, slightly flustered. 'I didn't mean to scare off Crowley like that,' he says, rather disappointed in himself. Aziraphale suddenly feels determined. 'I'm going to make it up for him!' He says, sounding like he has gained his energy out of pure emotion.

Aziraphale gets up too quickly and remembers again he's naked. He shivers, even though the weather is slightly balmy. On a chair next to the tub lies a robe that's red coloured. He gets dressed but still oddly feels naked, and the thought doesn't really please him. He'd usually sleep half-naked on his bed as a habit really of feeling the nice texture of the bedsheets and also because his room was always oddly hot sometimes. The after-effects of the alcohol kicks in. The back of his throat burns and it tastes disgusting and rancid. Aziraphale dashes inside quickly, feeling dazed and weak. Inside is dimly lit. The floor is wooden and the room feels creamy of colour, with small, cute lamps placed at parts of the room. The room smells lightly of candles. Aziraphale has a thing for architecture, and he definitely does care about the way his library looks and how the books are perfectly and imperfectly placed to build character. Realisation suddenly dawns to Aziraphale, and he feels stupid for forgetting. There is only one bed, and CROWLEY is already laying down on it, his body slumped. At any given angle Aziraphale can accidentally see something, and he wishes he can un-think that. Aziraphale walks slowly to the bed and looks at Crowley. Crowley looks exhausted, his eyebrows furrowed even at sleep, indicating that he clearly felt tense earlier. His mouth is slightly parted and Aziraphale had the odd sensation to brush his finger against it. What would it feel like? He unconsciously brushes his fingers to his own lips. Seriously. Is that even a normal thought? Aziraphale thinks. He softly lies down next to Crowley and looks at his resting face. His heart races slightly and time stills.

Aziraphale admires Crowley's face. He wonders if Crowley has been with anyone else in the past or has done any... sinful things? Crowley groans in his sleep as soon as Aziraphale thinks this and Aziraphale suddenly flinches. Crowley mumbles and places his arm around Aziraphale, and Aziraphale has every right to scream right now, but he doesn't. Instead his eyes trail down Crowley's neck and he observes Crowley's hands that are extended over Aziraphale. Crowley mumbles, though even if Aziraphale doesn't understand him, he can clearly tell he's not enjoying his sleep. 'Where have you been?' He whispers softly, and it is drenched with such raw pain that Aziraphale tentatively stills. Aziraphale-without thinking-touches the side of Crowley's cheek and caresses it. Something glistens on Crowley's face and Aziraphale suddenly realises it's tears. His heart beats faster. 'Oh Crowley, who did this to you?' He whispers, shocked. Crowley's grip around Aziraphale tightens and dread and nervousness washes over him, with a hint of curiosity. Aziraphale shuffles towards Crowley and processes his scent. It's overpowered by the alcohol, but there's a sweet scent that Crowley has, and he can't quite place his finger on it. Crowley puts his leg on top of Aziraphale, and Aziraphale gasps unexpectedly, his whole body going hot. 'Crowley, please wake up. Heaven's sake, I'm dying. I can't handle your damned leg and your arm - it's killing me,' Aziraphale pleads as he whispers. 'Weren't you just crying seconds ago?' Crowley's answer is only silence. Damnation. Shit. Fuck. God. Help... What should I do? Aziraphale desperately thinks. 'Crowley's deep into sleep, is he not?' Aziraphale murmurs to himself. 'You can kiss him on the forehead? It's not considered rape, or the violation against heaven, yes? You can do that, right Aziraphale?' He talks to himself. He doubts, as he always does annoyingly, and goes for it, lightly pecking Crowley on the cheek. Aziraphale blushes profusely. 'I'm the biggest idiot!' Aziraphale yells—this time, presumptuous of his surroundings.

CROWLEY
Crowley stirs, his eyes slowly opening. Aziraphale closes his eyes quickly and hopes to death he won't jolt by sudden nervousness. 'Doritos?' Crowley groans, confused and dazed. He doesn't really know if he's dreaming really, but Crowley has his leg and arm entangled with Aziraphale, who is asleep. He blushes as he registers Aziraphale's red robe.
Shameful thought
You pervert.
Crowley silently curses to himself. It's quite funny he has suddenly got an unexplainable boner and it reminds him of the very fucked up weird person he is with his best friend not knowing it. He tries to ignore his sudden boner and closes his eyes—but sleep doesn't come to him. 'Satan's sake,' he curses. He really doesn't want to get out of the bed and mess up his position, but he gets up anyway, and goes to the bathroom to finish off his business. As he silently does his business he thinks of all the possible weird scenarios that could've happened—like what if he asked Aziraphale to jerk him off? He'd probably run away and say, 'Sorry Crowley, but that's pretty gay.' Well. In actuality that is pretty gay, but around the mid 1990s he eavesdropped a conversation between two men talking about how good it felt like jerking off with each other—even though he was 100% that they were friends. Apparently it's a bit too strong for it to be considered bromance, is it? Crowley wonders. The mundane really is amusing sometimes.