Good Omens One Shots

I Love You, Hopelessly, Helplessly, Completely - Aziraphale x Crowley

Crowley was very drunk, probably the most drunk he'd ever been in his life. He'd been at a crowded bar, it was the 40s and he was supposed to performing a temptation, or at least he was pretty sure that's what he'd originally been there. But then he'd seen a flash of golden hair and a cream suit jacket hung carefully on the coat rack on the entrance and he'd gone straight to the bar for another round of whatever was strongest. And then another and another and another when he saw another man's hands around the waist of his blond friend.

He took one last shot and then stumbled towards the door when he saw how close they were together, purposely shoulder checking Aziraphale's... companion as hard as he could. The man turned on Crowley, cursing, but Crowley ignored him, pushing his way to the door more viciously than was strictly necessary.

He fled as fast as his unsteady legs could carry him from the love of his life.

Crowley couldn't even remember what city he was in by the time he made it to the street, much less where he'd been staying. So he just picked a direction and began lurching that way. The buildings the ground under him seemed to tilt and he suddenly found himself staring up at the night sky, back to the pavement.

Fuck it, he thought. Then closed his eyes, passing out right there on the cold uncaring pavement.

He awoke in an entirely different place, but he knew where he was instant. The familiar ceiling and smell of old books told him everything he needed to know. Shit.

If he was being honest he'd been avoiding Aziraphale for the past few years, ever since the church. He'd known since the day Aziraphale gave his sword away that he was hopelessly, helplessly, completely and entirely in love. But recently it had just been too fucking much to bear. He couldn't look at Aziraphale without his heart aching so hard he felt it was going to rip its way out of his chest. But he knew that his angel had no interest in him, just a convenient business partner, and on a good day, friends.

His head hurt. He just closed his eyes and pretended to go back to sleep. Hoping if he just willed it away hard enough this whole thing would resolve itself.

Footsteps approached.

Shit.

A warm hand touched his forehead, stroking his hair back. A cold cloth was pressed to his forehead. A small sad sigh.

He was going to discorporate right then and there if this kept up.

He opened his eyes. Aziraphale was kneeling beside him, his lips pursed and brow creased with worry.

"Crowley!" he cried, happily. Crowley winced at the loud noise.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! Crowley!" said Aziraphale, but in a whisper this time.

"H-hey, angel," he said, in a manner which he felt was cool. It was, objectively, very much not, but Aziraphale didn't notice.

"I'm so glad you're alright, darling," said Aziraphale, his face lighting up, Crowley's heart skipped a few beats at the pet name.

"'Course I am, why wouldn't I be?" he said, sitting up, feeling nauseous, then lying back down.

"Well, you've been asleep for about three days."

"Ah," said Crowley. "Well. Hm. That's no good."

"No, I was worried sick about you," said his angel, "Don't ever scare me like that again."

Crowley was silent, thinking that he shouldn't say the words he wanted to say next, but then he did anyway.

"Why do you give a fuck?"

He could see the moment Aziraphale's heart shattered on the floor.

"W-why, of course, I care, we've been friends for over 6000 years!"

"Of course, friends."

Crowley got to his feet, still very unsteady, his head pounding and his feet not quite cooperating. He could've miracled it away, but it just felt like the proper time to feel like absolute shit.

He stumbled into a bookshelf, nearly knocking it over.

"Whatever do you mean by that?" said Aziraphale, putting himself between Crowley and the door.

Crowley pushed past him, stumbling to where he knew Aziraphale kept his wine and grabbing a bottle. He popped the cork and chugged quite a fair bit of it.

"Crowley!" Aziraphale admonished, snatching it out his hands and taking a swig himself.

"This is not," he paused. "A conversation I'm willing to have sober."

"What ever do you mean?"

"I don't want to be, your fucking friend Zira,"

"What?!" he looked heartbroken and some part of Crowley felt a sick satisfaction in hurting him the way he'd been hurt at the bar.

"I, have been in love with you, desperately, hopelessly, painfully, sickeningly in love with you since the say we met. There is no one in the world I want more than you. I need you Aziraphale. My bones fucking ache every second I'm not with you. I feel like I'm drowning every time you look at me. I think I'm going to die every time we brush hands. But we're just fucking friends, and its killing me."

"I-" said Aziraphale, he looked as though here were about to cry.

"I know, you don't fucking love me, I know! I'm the fucking filth under your feet, I'm fully fucking aware." Crowley was raising his voice, actually yelling now.

Aziraphale actually started crying, angry tears. It was in that moment the gravity of what he'd done hit him in the gut.

"Shi-"

Aziraphale cut him off, grabbing him by the lapels and smashing their faces together, pushing Crowley back up against the wall. Crowley dropped the bottle in shock, it smashed on the floor.

They kissed, hard and hungry. Aziraphale bit Crowley's lower lip hard enough for the both of them to taste the bitter tang of ichor. They kissed, deep and ravenous, until Crowley was panting and out of breath. Aziraphale grabbed his jaw, tilting his head to make Crowley look him in the eyes.

"Don't ever say that again," he said, spitting ichor on the ground where it mixed with glass and spilled wine. "I've loved you since the day we met."

"You're an angel, you love everyone," said Crowley, trying to look away.

"Not the way I love you. I love you like I'm going to burn up every time I'm away from you. I've been trying to put you out of my mind for the last six thousand years, I thought you didn't give a shit about me. I would do anything for you Crowley, anything, as long as I could be with you till the end of time."

"B-but, what would they think?" he looked upwards. Aziraphale took the opportunity to viciously sink his teeth into the side of his neck, Crowley groaned.

"Who cares what they think?" he said, gently kissing the mark he'd just made. Crowley felt like he was going to die.

"F-fuck," he moaned.

"As far as I'm concerned, I'm saving you, you're tempting me, and we're just doing above and beyond at our jobs."

"Ngk," said Crowley as Aziraphale continued to run his hands over his chest and kiss his neck.

"Does that sound agreeable?" he asks. Crowley nodded frantically.

"P-please," said Crowley, grabbing Aziraphale's face and kissing him desperately, miracling himself sober and fixing the bottle as he did so.

He pulled back, pressing their foreheads together and holding the sides of Aziraphale's face.

"I love you, angel," Crowley whispered.

"I love you, too, always, forever," murmured Aziraphale against his lips.