Good Omens Oneshots

♪1 • Sick Snake♪

Crowley X Aziraphale

The Demon and the Angel, the two that had spent the last 6,000 years together, were sat at a circular table across from one another. In the middle sat a bottle of wine, full to the top with its grapey goodness. Yet neither of the two men who sat there were quite keen on drinking it at the moment. So the bottle sat there, unopened and untouched.

The Angel, Aziraphale, had himself lost in a book. His silver rimmed glasses sat close to the tip of his nose as he read the story of Quasimodo and Esmeralda. It wasn't the first timr he'd read this book, though it was the first time he'd read the first publication, the original French version, done by Victor Hugo himself.

"Don't you ever get bored of that story?" Asked the Demon, the one who sat across from Aziraphale with no occupation.

"Quite the opposite, Crowley. The story is beautiful, and I gather more from each read," Aziraphale answered his unlikely friend, his eyes never lifting from the book. It was like his body were in our world, yet his eyes and a big part of his mind was in whatever world this book made up.

In fact, it was so abundantly clear Aziraphale was mentally somewhere else, as he'd never noticed the fire coming from Crowley's ears. With every suppressed sneeze came a little burst of flame from both of the Demon's ears. It had happened a few times over the past quite silent half hour.

At 7:43 pm, Crowley had arrived at the angel's bookshop with a freshly bought bottle of wine. He'd picked it up at a local winery only 7 minutes before he arrived. He hoped tonight could be a somewhat fun night with his best friend.

"Just a minute," called the Angel (they'd had this get together planned ahead of time), whom of which had a book in his hand. He'd taken a seat at a round table, only planning to read up to the best moment of a break.

Crowley grinned as he took a seat right across from the Angel, placing the bottle between them. Then he waited quite patiently for his friend to reach a good stopping point and place the book down.

The time was now 8:14 pm, and the book was still proudly on display in Aziraphale's hands. Crowley had grown much less ambitious about his plans with his best friend tonight, of course, and was back to being as miserable as he was this morning. The feeling he felt now was exactly why he'd called Aziraphale to make these ruined plans.

Another sneeze was about to hit Crowley, this one a lot stronger than any others. He couldn't very well suppress this one. He took in the big breath for air in preparation for the forceful expelling of it all. But rather than letting out the sneeze, once his head began to make the downwards movement his whole body all at once was replaced by a huge puff of black smoke.

Now this grabbed Aziraphale's attention. He looked up from the book, eyes a bit wide from surprise. "Crowley?" And in response to the curious call, up onto the table slithered a serpent with bright yellow eyes and a dark gray body. Aziraphale averted his eyes from the dissipating smoke, and rather he looked down at the serpent that was slowly slithering his way around and up the bottle of wine. "Crowley?" He asked once again, closing the book and placing it down on the table.

The Serpent hissed quietly and turned his head away from the Angel. He slithered back down the bottle, knocking it over once he finished his way back onto the table. Aziraphale was quick to grab the bottle before it rolled off the table.

"Are you upset with me?" The Angel then asked the Snake, who didn't give any recognition in return. "What's wrong, demon?"

This time, the Serpent let out a small noise that resembled a sneeze.

Aziraphale looked surprised momentarily, before his look became a smile. He removed his glasses, laying them down right on top of the book. "You're sick."

Crowley stopped slithering forward and stopped in his tracks. There were a few seconds where he stayed there. The same puff of black smoke then appeared, his snake body being replaced by his human body. The Demon now sat there on the table, his right foot on the ground keeping his body propped enough as to not knock over the table. "6,000 years and I've never been sick."

Aziraphale was able to hear the nasally undertone in his friend's voice that developed throughout the day. "Ah, aren't you going to," he waved his hand around in the air, "curse it away?"

Crowley merely shrugged. He then stood from the table and plopped himself back onto the wooden chair he'd sat in before. "I brought the wine to have a little fun." He then let out a full-on sneeze, since the Angel already discovered he was sick. He then let his head fall onto the table and he relaxed in that position.

Aziraphale let out a bit of an awkward laugh. "Not even drunk and you've already gotten a bit wasted." Crowley let out a bit of a snort in response. The Angel then suggested, "I believe we should skip the alcohol tonight."

Crowley lifted his head back up, his sunglasses crooked on his nose. He squinted at the other male and asked, "if you care so much, why don't you just..miracle it away."

"Why," Aziraphale began, reaching forward to adjust Crowley's glasses, "that would be abuse of my power."

"Aw, what abuse? You're doing it for someone else," Crowley retorted.

"Yes, but that someone else is a demon."

"So what? Are you really so worried about the high and mighty-" Crowley was cut off by his own painful coughing. "Ah, forget it." He then huffed and plopped his head back down on the table.

Aziraphale sighed gently and stood, going around the table to Crowley's side. "Let's get you to my bed," he said innocently, smiling as he helped the Demon stand.

"Your bed?" Crowley questioned, following his friend's lead either way.

Aziraphale chuckled quietly and nodded. "I have comfy pillows!" He exclaimed, his smile remaining.