There Will Come a Day: A Good Omens Fanfic

Every night at the same cafe he shows up

Aziraphale sat at his desk, head in his hands, and tried to deal with the problem of the stolen palimpsest. Of course he could just drop it into the police. That would raise questions about how he came by it, and he would be dropping Crowley's friends into it, and—well, all roads led back to Crowley, the very last thing Aziraphale wanted to think about.

As if he could help it.

Meanwhile, every cell in his body suggested that he was stressed, he was tired, he was heartbroken, he should just go read the parchments already. It wouldn't hurt them. He'd be very careful. Of course, they were stolen goods, and it would be wrong to enjoy them, but they were just there, waiting, and it would feel so comforting to give into temptation.

Just like he knew perfectly well where Crowley lived, and that all he had to do was cross the river and find the flat, and Crowley would be so very happy to see him, he loved it when Crowley was happy and trying to hide it and be nonchalant, and of course he would kiss him again and... Every pornographic and erotic detail that Aziraphale had read or observed in his long life and had assumed was nothing to do with him was coming back into his mind with inconvenient, and very explicit, clarity.

There was a piece of paper in front of him. On it, in the spiky lettering of someone who had learned to write back when he was scratching messages onto clay and hadn't practiced enough with pens to develop any refinements, were the words, I'm sorry, angel.

Aziraphale stared blankly for a moment, as it curled up and flared away into ash. He was almost sure he hadn't done that. He took a handkerchief and carefully wiped the ash away.

He could remember very clearly what happened to the the Watchers who consorted with humans. Just humans, not even demons, and especially not the very same demon who personally caused the fall of humanity. It was something that was difficult to forget. Aziraphale had quite liked Shamsiel, and had been relieved to leave the guarding of the Garden to him. Shamsiel had seemed to like and cherish the humans the same way he did, and of course that had been if anything too true. Uriel had seemed fond of Shamsiel too, but that hadn't stopped her chaining him under the Earth until Judgement Day.

Aziraphale still remembered Crowley's arms about him, the desperate touch of a snake like tongue against his, the overwhelming sense of being wanted, needed, so much . It hadn't felt like temptation. It had felt perfect, like love and Grace was pouring into his human shaped body. Was that what Shamsiel had felt, the first time he kissed his human woman? Did he, even now, think it was worth it? Throw away eternity for a few short years of being needed?

The human woman probably hadn't known Shamsiel would Fall. That was something Aziraphale couldn't afford to forget, even if he could forgive. Crowley wasn't some naive young human. A demon was a dangerous friend. Aziraphale had managed to put that out of his mind over the centuries.

Never again.

Another note where the other had been. Just talk to me.

He watched it blaze. This time, he didn't bother to clean up the mess. He sat, waiting, every part of his soul hurting.

Aziraphale, come out of the shop. I can't come into an angel's territory without permission, you know that.

He hadn't, actually. This was apparently one of the rules that he was supposed to know about. Perhaps he hadn't been paying attention at the correct time? He was pretty sure no one had actually sat him down and explained to him the rules for consorting with demons, probably because no one had imagined he would wish to do so.

Flame, ash. Reform.

I'll wait for you in the champagne bar at Kettner's. They have delicious bouillabaisse and almond tarts. I won't bother you with anything uncomfortable again, it will be the same as always. The writing was larger and more ragged.