~ In Case Forever Ends Tomorrow ~ A Good Omens Fanfic

18 - It Would Have Been Nice

"Good morning, Angel," Crowley yawned, stretching. Aziraphale moved across the sofa, straightening against the cushions. Crowley's yellow eyes were as round as the moon, his pupils dilating as he looked at Aziraphale.

Aziraphale loved it when his eyes did that.

As if on command, Crowley shot up and looked around.

"Where are my sunglasses?" he fretted, "Aziraphale, where are they?!"

"Hush, my dear," Aziraphale said, "There are no humans here."

"I don't need them just for the humans," Crowley snapped.
"Oh? What are the other reasons?"

"Well..." Crowley flushed, clearly ashamed of whatever answer he had. "My eyes are... well, you know... ugly. I already told you."

"Dear boy, they are no such thing! Your eyes are splendid." Aziraphale told him.

This only seemed to make Crowley fumble around for the glasses harder. He finally found them lying disregarded on the coffee table beside them. He snatched them up and shoved them on his face, brushing himself off.

"There." he finished, "That's better."

Aziraphale stared disapprovingly before getting up from the sofa and making his way to the front of the shop. He put on his coat, and adjusted his bow tie, running a hand through his cloud-like hair.

"I best be off," Crowley decided, standing from the sofa, "Got to water the plants."

Aziraphale simply nodded. Such strange actions of an angel and a demon, to be off watering houseplants in the middle of the war to end the world. You would have taken one look at the two and wondered whether or not they knew there was a war at all. Or whether or not they cared was probably the better question.

The answer was that they both cared immensely, but they cared more for one another.

~ Crowley's Perspective ~

The demon had driven home that afternoon in his Bentley, the black vintage car speeding along the main roads of Soho, London. It took approximately five minutes to drive from Soho to Mayfair.

Crowley could do it in three.

During the war, there was no traffic, meaning he could do it in two. His hand slid over the seat as he shifted the gears, and he whipped around the left corner. He slammed his foot on the brakes as the Bentley screeched to a halt in front of the apartments. Crowley took out his keys and locked the door behind him, sauntering over to the entrance. He took the elevator and made it to the top floor, breathing in the smell of dust. The Mayfair residences had been left vacant for the past week, all the humans who had previously owned them had fled from the war.

Crowley, on the other hand, was staying right where he was. Once, he would have wanted to run away too, using any attempt possible to get away from the war and keep Aziraphale safe. Now? Crowley had given up on all those hopes. His angel had declined the offer to go to Alpha Centauri three times now, and Crowley thought it was best to just stop wishing he would change his mind. Heaven and Hell were stupid. So, so stupid. How could either side think they could actually win this? What was even worse was the fact that Crowley, in all his optimism, still believed he and Aziraphale could win it. Heaven and Hell were fooling themselves.

Let the war go on, he thought, See how it works in your favour.

Now Crowley tossed his keys to the side as he entered his flat, glad to be back in the darkness of his home. Or, well, in the darkness of anything that wasn't Hell, really. His flat wasn't really his home, he never thought about it like that. More like something he would put his stuff in. Crowley didn't have a home. No demon did. Especially not him. Some demons might consider Hell their home - but Crowley didn't fit in there. He belonged there, because he deserved to be there, but he didn't fit in. He wasn't the same as the others.