There Will Come a Day: A Good Omens Fanfic

I'll sing a sweet love song

Aziraphale was usually pretty good at determining his position relative to the Earth. Some kind of, well, grounding instinct, probably to do with flying. Apparently, automobiles interfered with that. By the time the Bentley screeched into a market town and came to a sudden stop half mounted on the curb, all of his sense of location was gone and he had no idea where he was.

Perhaps that was why when Crowley leaned over and kissed him, not a desperate passionate kiss but an affectionate smack full on the mouth as if it was something he did casually all the time, the entire world seemed to spin around and reorientate itself with Crowley perfectly at the centre.

Crowley seemed completely unaware that anything of significance had happened. "Stay there and recover yourself, angel. Looks like you need it," he said lightly. "I have things to buy." He sprang out, giving the steering wheel an adoring pat on the way.

"Doesn't the automobile get a kiss as well?" Aziraphale managed a certain mockery in his tone, although the world was still unstable around him and the only thing that seemed to matter was the figure still holding the door open and how much he loved him.

Crowley cast the Bentley a longing look. "No. That would be weird," he said, with audible reluctance. "Pip-pip darling, don't go anywhere." Aziraphale wasn't sure which of them the demon was addressing. He sat on the leather seats and tried to recover himself as Crowley headed for the stalls.

It was no good. How could he recover himself from the world changing like that? He watched Crowley instead, noticing how he walked like no human. Loose, rolling hips, but a tension in the shoulders, at one and the same time flexible and as high strung as a suspension bridge. Apparently taking ludicrous amounts of pleasure in bargaining like he was on his last penny for strawberries. No wonder he hadn't been at home in Heaven, with its hierarchies and single-mindedness and lack of strawberries. No patience for awkward, beautiful oddities there. Not that Hell, as far as Aziraphale knew, was any better. The only place for a creature like that was...

Here.

Not of Heaven, and not truly of Hell. Not human, certainly not. But of the Earth. And once Aziraphale wrapped his mind around that, the obvious question was, but what of me? The answer was all too obvious. He never actually went to Heaven unless he had to report in, and never felt accepted there. He belonged here. With the only person who came close to understanding.

He closed his eyes, and tried to stay the hammering of his heart. I'd Fall for him. I'd rather burn in the fire for eternity than know he is burning and be supposed to be happy about it. The only reason left to fear Falling is that we might be separated.

He didn't know what to do with the knowledge, but he was close. He could feel it.

"Hullo, Mister."

Aziraphale opened his eyes and blinked at a small human child of undetermined sex staring in the window and munching on sweets. "Oh, hello there, my dear." He looked at the grey coating of half consumed aniseed chew smeared over the child's face and repressed a shudder. He assumed his most avuncular, jolly tone. "What can I do for you?"

The child regarded him levelly. "S'nice car. Can I sit in it?" Something in the child's expression suggested terrible unspecified threats if the answer wasn't yes.

Aziraphale was paralysed with terror. The child's shirt was smeared with mud and grass, there were at least three colours of melted sweet on its hands, and it was clutching a bag of brightly coloured atrocities that even Aziraphale, with his sweet tooth, couldn't contemplate without revulsion. He thought of sticky fingerprints on the Bentley's flawless paint, brightly coloured sugar, grass and mud on the shining leather seats, and Crowley's face.