Good Omens (One-Shots)

First Time for Everything pt2

     Last night.

     Oh.

     Oh how fun this would be to play with.

     Crowley shook that thought from his head, he wouldn't hurt the angel. Not physically, not mentally, not emotionally. Not as long as he is in his right mind, not as long as he is able to stand and fight, not as long as he is able to hold his angel's hand and— WOAH. Oddly pure thoughts for a demon to think.

     Admittedly, Crowley was surprised his drunk self didn't try to temp Aziraphale at all. He knows his usual demon self would probably attempt to do that. ...Maybe.

     Maybe it was the influence from the humans over the years? Or from the angel himself? Or maybe it was because he loved the—

     "Crowley?" A small voice asked cautiously.

     Crowley startled, he sat up, jostling Aziraphale whilst falling off the couch. He landed on a heap on the floor. "Oh, sorry, love, I Er- I just... Uhm.." Play it cool, Crowley. Stop stuttering, Goddamnit. He stood up and brushed off his jacket. "What happened last night?"

     Aziraphale couldn't contain his blush at Crowley's morning voice, the smooth, slyness was still there but a bit gruffer, adding to the deluxe sound.

     He frowned slightly, he wanted Crowley to remember but at the same time, he didn't. If that made sense.

     Aziraphale was torn in between telling him now, again, or pretending it didn't happen. Pfft, angels aren't cowards! They stand as the protection of humanity against the dark forces of evil! They're guardians! They're not allowed to be scared!

     Well... except maybe just this once.

---

     Aziraphale simply told Crowley that the two had accidentally fallen asleep on the couch after drinking tons and tons.

     Little did Aziraphale know, Crowley knew the truth. . . . The angel also sucked at lying.

     Crowley spent the next few days trying to figure out a way to tell Aziraphale without it being a hurry or unnatural. He wanted it to be smooth, he wanted to fluster the angel. But not in a desirous lustful way, oh no. He wanted to fluster the angel with compliments and gifts and hand holds and cheek kisses and dinners and—Dinner! That's it!

     The next day—Crowley decided to do dinner the next day, long enough to build confidence but not long enough to get second thoughts—the demon set to work. He cooked and baked all of Aziraphale's favourite foods.

     Crowley, surprisingly enough, had a knack for cooking. He'd never tried it before this single attempt, but he'd done it. It came out better than expected.

     Now, the most difficult part.

     "Heeey, Aziraphale. I Uhm, I wanted to invite you over to my flat for— no. That won't work. Hello, Angel, want to go out wi—no, no, no! Hi, Aziraphale, would you like to... Mm, not that either," Crowley sighed. This was more difficult than he thought. An idea came to mind.

     The snake-eyed demon steeled his nerves with a confident grin, he picked up his cell phone and speed-dialed his angel friend.

     On the other side of the line, Aziraphale picked up, "Hello, dear."

     "Dress in your best clothing. I'll be there in 10 minutes," was all Crowley said before hanging up. Not only did the short demand save time, it was also vague and made it quite easy to not stutter.