Ineffable Instincts

A Holy Bath By Any Other Name

SUMMARY: Getting to the bathhouse was the easy part. Getting them inside, locking the door, making sure that they were alone and that his Omega felt safe and comfortable? As easy as pie (if Crowley liked pie).

Actually taking a bath and not getting distracted by his mate's gorgeous, wonderful body, intoxicating scent, and beautiful eyes?

Crowley's going to need another plate. Or three. And some wine.

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A/N: AHH FINALLY ITS HERE *does a happy dance* WHOOO \o/ I hope you guys enjoy and please please PLEASE let me know what you think! :D I had a lot of fun writing this one and I hope you have as much fun reading it! <3

PS. It's recommended that you read the first story in this series, as it will help make some metaphors and certain parts of this fic make sense. :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Good Omens or any related materials.

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"When the clouds shake their hyssops, and the rain

Like holy water falls upon the plain,

'Tis sweet to gaze upon the springing grain

And see your harvest born.

And sweet the little breeze of melody

The blackbord puffs upon the budding tree,

While the wild poppy lights upon the lea

And blazes 'mid the corn."

--Francis Ledwidge

The cool air around him does nothing to calm the stifling fire raging inside of Crowley.

The door to the bathhouse glows a muted orange, illuminated by the flickering torches around him and Aziraphale, his Omega's blue gaze shimmering. Aziraphale's palms are soft against Crowley's as he carefully helps the angel up the stone steps, stepping over the threshold with his mate right behind him.

"Wait." He whispers, holding up a hand to stop Aziraphale from scooting around him, the gentle brush of his Omega's chest against his back causing Crowley to shiver. "Don't move, dove."

"What?" Aziraphale starts, but a low, warning growl from Crowley has the blonde snapping his mouth shut with a whimper. "Yes, Alpha."

Reaching around to gently squeeze his angel's hand in gratitude, Crowley slinks reluctantly away from Aziraphale, snapping his fingers. The door to the bathhouse shuts and locks behind Aziraphale and the small squeak his Omega lets out causes Crowley to smirk.

His face grows serious again, however, as he carefully prowls around the edges of the bathing pool.

The water is a clear blue, reflecting both the stars above them and the fire along the edges, a mix of silver and gold Crowley would compare with his own eyes and his Omega's beautiful wings if not for the Alpha instincts clawing at his chest.

Glancing at where Aziraphale obediently stands near the doorway, Crowley growls silently, enraptured once again by the beauty pouring from his Omega. From the way his hair seems to glow in the moonlight, to the white toga that is tight in all the right places, rising up his thighs slightly as his angel shifts, looking around him with a wide, blue stare before he catches Crowley's flaming gaze and blushes.

"What are you doing?" Aziraphale's voice is soft, a frown of confusion pulling his brows down. "Crowley?"

Crowley captures the image one last time before he forces himself to glance away, stalking over to the darkest corner of the bathhouse. The shadows are ink colored, thick as tar and stinking of the former human residents that bathed during the daylight. Wrinkling his nose, Crowley sweeps his golden eyes around the small space.