One-Shots - Good Omens | Ineffable Husbands

Crowley, My Love

TW: None 

"Oh, come on!" Crowley yelled from down the hall.

"Any luck, dear?" Aziraphale shouted back.

Aziraphale had always thought long and hard about a lot of decisions which usually led to him making the correct choices when in life. Aziraphale thought that since he was an angel, he couldn't possibly do the wrong thing. Even Crowley had said so! Aziraphale remembered the words very clearly: You're an angel, I don't think you can do the wrong thing.

Aziraphale disagreed, at least in this situation. He was sure he had done the wrong thing.

Currently, Aziraphale was helping Crowley tear apart his flat in search of an item he had misplaced.

They had been at it for almost four hours.

"Crowley, dear, did you ever think that maybe it isn't here?" Aziraphale asked, sighing.

"No, it's got to be! It isn't in the Bentley and the only other place I go is your bookshop and I know it wouldn't be there,"

"Remind me again what we're looking for?"

Crowley groaned and emerged from the hallway. "It's a Queen record,"

"Why don't we just miracle you a new one?" Aziraphale asked, looking up at the demon.

Crowley looked disgusted. "This was a signed record, angel. It's very important to me. Just- just keep looking,"

Crowley disappeared down the hall once more.

Aziraphale could understand what it was like to love material objects, but it was a little out of the ordinary for Crowley, but who was he to judge?

The problem with Crowley's flat was that it was so empty. There wasn't much room to hide or misplace anything, but Aziraphale wasn't going to say anything like that to the demon because he respected that Crowley wasn't giving up.

Aziraphale looked around the room: he was looking through Crowley's bedroom. Much like the rest of the house, the furniture was dark and plain. Aziraphale straightened his jacket and moved over to a door that when slid open, led into a rather large closet.

Crowley, shockingly, owned more clothes than Aziraphale had realized. The shelves that lined the walls were packed tightly and the hanging rod seemed as if it would break if someone hung one more coat hanger on it.

Aziraphale eyed around but froze when he peered something that looked like it didn't belong. It was an ornate box, made of dark wood with gold trim. It looked old though- the design carved on the outside had been worn down. Aziraphale had to stand on his toes to reach it, but he grasped the box and pulled it off from the shelf.

Dust blew everywhere, meaning that Crowley hadn't opened the box in quite some time. Aziraphale went to open the box, but his hand recoiled. He couldn't invade Crowley's privacy like this, his friend had entrusted him to help search for something that meant a lot to him.

Yet Aziraphale couldn't bring himself to put the box back. Crowley was still searching in the other room, so it would be okay. Aziraphale smiled excitedly and flipped open the lid of the box.

He dug around, glancing over newspaper clippings, old photographs, and documents. There a few trinkets in the box as well, but Aziraphale was most intrigued by an envelope.

The only writing on the front read, To Crowley, my love.

Aziraphale felt as if he needed to sit down. His heartbeat quickened just a little as he read the words over and over. Crowley, receiving love letters? Who from? Thousands of questions, not unlike those, raced through his mind.