Good Omens: The Bachelor Party (Aziraphale x Crowley)

Chapter Five: Ye Saga Continues

"I," Aziraphale tugged at his tartan bowtie. His skin felt flush, much more than it had even while they had been dancing. "I think I need some air." The angel rose from his chair, drink forgotten, and stumbled toward the stairs.

Crowley appeared beside him and snaked an arm around his, hoisting him up. "Look, I know I should've mentioned it sooner, but don't go off and get yourself bloody discorporated by falling down the stairs."

The heat quivering through Aziraphale's skin surged under the demon's touch. Something sparked inside that wasn't like his usual forgiving nature. He huffed out an exasperated breath. "My dear, I thought after everything we'd been through, what with the Bastille, and the Nazis, and then Armageddon. I mean, really. I thought you would've come clean about things like this." Aziraphale unhooked his arm from Crowley's grasp and stomped down the stairs. It wasn't until they had reached the sidewalk outside that he unclamped his jaw and whirled on him. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

Crowley let out a sigh and adjusted his glasses on his nose. "Come on, angel. It's not like I didn't want to tell you. I'm sure there are things you haven't told me, yet. We're still, I don't know, getting used to it, aren't we? The whole, not having to glance over our shoulder all the time. And I thought you knew, I mean, you know what I meant with the whole runaway to Alpha Centauri together, right?"

The angel hesitated. His hands unclenched, and he took a step back. "Of course, of course, I knew what you meant, but I..." His hands snapped together and wrung in his all-too-known nervous way.

Crowley raised an eyebrow.

Aziraphale flung his hands down as though realizing he was giving away his sudden shifting mood. "Look, all right. Mistakes were made. We can continue this conversation at another time. Right now, we need to get back and be good hosts to our dear fellow." He bolted for the door, but Crowley side-stepped in front of him and lowered the glasses from his eyes. His golden gaze fixed on him, and Aziraphale paled under their comprehension.

"Angel, we've known each other for how long?"

"Um, well, a bit over six thousand years, but you know that. Why would you–"

"Then, what did you do? I know that look; I know that look of yours very well." He tilted his head forward just an inch and stepped in a slow, purposeful circle, gliding around the angel.

Aziraphale knew he was trapped, trapped in the coils of the serpent, and yet; he knew he only had himself to blame. He sighed, letting his shoulders sag. It was time to practice his own words of wisdom, even if Crowley might want to discorporate him afterward. "There," he said, then steeled his tone best he could. "There might be something, um, well, along this line of thought, that I've failed to mention to you as well, my dear." Aziraphale's heart drummed in his chest. So much so, that he hoped he could get the words out with the body still intact, yet, he wasn't entirely sure that it could be done.

Crowley paused his circling, then ambled back in front of him. His shoulders rolled, and he turned, giving Aziraphale a hard stare as though he knew the weight of the angel's words could knock him off balance, as though the angel's revelations could send him to his knees like the gales of some unseen storm.

The demon's silence only added to the gathering weight of his words. Aziraphale swallowed down the lump that seemed to try and keep the words sealed behind his lips. He huffed, letting his resolve take control. "Very well. The truth is, my dear...the truth is that I couldn't run away with you to Alpha Centauri because, well, like you said, I knew what it meant. It was like that, um, the human word, eloping. And, well, I couldn't do that with you." He paused, noticing Crowley's form grow rigid, then sink as though he had expected the words to hurt, but not like that. Not with so much accusation behind them.