Good Omens: The Bachelor Party (Aziraphale x Crowley)

Chapter One: Calling on an Angel

Soho, London: Post-Armagedidn't

Aziraphale pulled off his reading glasses with a heavy sigh, then set his book aside. The phone had rung, disrupting him from the perils of a thrilling chase with the extraordinarily delightful Sherlock Holmes. He hated being interrupted when it was getting good, when the words seemed to surge the adrenaline through his veins. Even though his store was closed, his customers still appeared eager to try his patience.

The angel cleared his throat and tried to ease the annoyance out of his tone. "We are most definitely closed. You may call back tomorrow during—"

"Azira?"

He recognized the voice. "Oh, so sorry, Anathema, my dear. It's lovely to hear from you. How are you?"

"I'm okay. I was just calling to ask if you received our wedding invitation?" Her words held a hint of uneasiness that the angel couldn't place.

"Oh, yes. I gave our reply to the post just yesterday. We are both very excited to attend. Well, mostly at least. I told Crowley no temptations, and he's been sulking ever since. I just hope four months is enough time to improve his mood."

"Oh, that's good, I think."

Again, Aziraphale heard the uneasiness in her voice. "My dear, is something else on your mind?"

"No, nothing really, I guess."

"Oh, come now," he cooed. "There must be something."

"Well, actually. There is something you and your friend could help with if you're not busy."

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow at the thought of involving Crowley. Surely, the young woman knew or must have an idea as to what he was, so to ask for the demon's help seemed odd, but still, he knew they would help however they could. "Of course. Now, what seems to be the trouble?"

The bell to the bookshop dinged, and Aziraphale glanced toward the front door as Crowley sauntered inside. He gave a nod to the angel as he snapped his fingers, closing and relocking the door. Aziraphale pointed at the phone with a small smile, indicating he would be with him in a moment. The demon rolled his eyes, then made his way over and plopped on the couch next to him. Crowley leaned back as though he'd had a long day, despite Aziraphale knowing he'd been planning nothing too nefarious. At least, nothing more than seeing how many mobiles he could get to ring at once within a five-block radius.

"...So, could you help?" Anathema finished, and Aziraphale blinked, realizing he'd watched Crowley walk into the shop without listening to a word the poor girl had said.

"So sorry, could you repeat that? Bad connection here I'm afraid." He glanced at the demon, who held a small grin.

Crowley rose from his seat and brushed passed him on the way to the dry bar. "So, I'm a bad connection? A bit distracting for you, angel?"

Aziraphale placed a hand over the mouthpiece. "I am on the phone. Will you please restrain yourself until I am done?"

"Can't make any promises," Crowley said and glanced over the choices of liquor for the evening.

"I know I'm asking a lot," Anathema was saying. "But, I can't think of anyone else who would do this for him. Well, maybe that man from the Witchfinder Army, but I don't think that would end well for anybody."

"No, no. I completely understand."

"So, you don't mind?" Her words dripped with relief.

He still had no idea what she was talking about, but she did sound a bit better. "Of course."