Well, That Was A Thing (Good Omens One-Shots)

10; Cake, Wine & Letters

Context: This one-shot takes place immediately after THAT phone call from the Good Omens 30th anniversary video.

Word Count: 4,000

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Aziraphale's POV:

The angel of The Eastern Gate stared at the telephone, his bunt cake laid next to it in an ornate little plate, ignored.

Foolish principality. Here you are again, pushing him away, when you were the one who called him in hopes that he'd invite himself over. But no, you still let fear govern you when it comes to him. Even when you know how he feels about you... Stupid, stupid angel...!

He was frustrated, no doubt about it. His eyes traced the table, the mess of sweets on it taking up far too much space for his current mood. A flick of the wrist was all it took for the cakes to teleport to the kitchen in the upstairs flat.

Should I call him back? Would he accept? Oh, he's probably fast asleep already, he does have a terrible talent for relaxing...

The angel picked up the nearest book, in hope that he'd be distracted for a bit. As he opened it, a black feather dropped from the aged pages onto his lap. With that, he unceremoniously closed the book, placed it aside and took the plume in his hand. Aziraphale's mouth twitched into a pout as he looked at the onyx feather.

He's had it since that day at the airbase. It had grazed Aziraphale's cheek, making him think Crowley's whole wing was centimeters away from smacking him in the face. In reality, the demon was too far from him for that to be the case. A feather had simply come loose as he stretched his wings and made its way over to the angel. Aziraphale had tucked it up his sleeve as Crowley put on his sunglasses and addressed Adam. He had been using it as a bookmark ever since.

Aziraphale sighed deeply and did another gesture. The letter he had started to write earlier (which he abandoned in favor of making the phone call) was now in front of him, ink-well, quill and all. He let go of Crowley's feather, placing it near two familiar portraits.

Go on, before you lose your nerve... He thought to himself as he gripped the quill-pen.

Anthony J. Crowley

How are you? I do hope your months-long-slumber has left you feeling rejuvenated. Or, at the very least, not as bored. Lord knows I could never do anything like that, I lack the proper discipline for it. Although, sloth has always been your area of expertise, after all.

As I am writing this letter, it is still early May. I am not sure what I will have gotten up to by the time you wake, but I imagine I will be missing you just the same. And that's just it, dear boy, it was a mistake letting you hang up. The reason why I called you in the first place was because I missed you. I should have accepted your offer, instead, I pushed you away again...

Crowley, I haven't been entirely truthful with you. You don't go too fast for me. I was simply too afraid of what they would do to you if I allowed myself to get closer. Even now, after being free for so many months, I let fear control me when it comes to you. And what makes it worse is, I know how you feel about me, how you've always felt about me...

I don't deserve you, I know this. You've been so good to me over the years, so patient. I'll understand if you have grown tired of waiting for me. But know that if you give me the chance, if you still want me in any capacity, I will do better. And I promise I will never deny you again.