Good Omens Oneshots

♪5 • Backfire♪

Requested by rubyOMS

After the Apocolypse-That-Never-Was, the angel and the demon dined at the Ritz. But that was the last time they'd seen each other. They didn't try to part from one another. Fitting in with the humans just kept them both occupied.

Aziraphale ran his bookshop, which was suddenly booming. It's not that he had a problem with that, although he really did have a problem with it. He was kept busy with business. He tried to drive away customers as much as he could, all while trying to keep customers still coming. He needed an income, but he really needed his books.

As for Crowley, he was once again taking advantage of his presence on Earth. He was notorious for screwing with the mass of London. Well, most of the time he got away without being known. So he was up to his usual antics, trolling the population of London.

He also kept himself busy with his plants. In the time he wasn't communicating with his angel, he spent it working in his greenhouse. He spent hours each day, waking up early in the morning to treat his plants every day. He gave them lots of TLC, which to him consisted of putting the fear of Crowley into them, punishing them, but also the same TLC the average human would give their plants.

About a year and a half passed after the events. Cold months were upon them, and while that didn't impact Aziraphale's business too much, Crowley was having issues with his greenhouse. The person he was renting the lot from didn't seem to be interested in keeping up with the maintenance of the heaters, and this obviously irked Crowley.

He paced his livingroom grumpily, trying to figure out how the Heaven's he was going to keep his plants properly incubated without the heat. He paced for what could have been hours. He didn't have anything better to do, and the hours passed quickly.

The pacing stopped when he heard the phone ring. He immediately picked it up, not paying any attention to the caller ID. "Have you fixed my heating?" He immediately asked upon answering the phone.

"My, that's quite the way to greet an old friend," a familiarly gentle voice responded from over the phone.

"Aziraphale," Crowley replied calmer, rubbing his face with his free hand, "I'm sorry. My landlord won't fix my damned heating."

"I'm sorry to hear that," came from Aziraphale's end. "Ah, would you like to come to my shop for the time being?"

"Oh, no, it's not my flat. It's my greenhouse. I can keep myself warm, but my plants aren't demons," Crowley explained

"Well it's good to catch up," Aziraphale replied after a moment of an awkward silence.

Crowley curiously asked, "why'd you call me?"

"I just-" Aziraphale began, before pausing briefly. "I just figured I'd check in. We haven't quite spoken since Armageddon."

"Well, that's not true. We had dinner."

"Well that's just it. After that evening we never saw each other again. I guess we've just been so busy..."

Crowley then heard a beeping on the phone. He took it from his ear to look at the screen, seeing his landlord was calling him. He put the phone back to his ear quickly to speak to Aziraphale. "Yeah, listen, it's my landlord, I'll call you back."

"Don't-" was all Aziraphale was able to let out before Crowley hung up. He heard the humming of a dead call and sighed. "Don't bother..." He mumbled to himself, as if Crowley was there to hear it.

"Yeah?" Crowley said upon answering his landlord.

"Listen Anthony, some bugger kicked off the electric heat for all of Central London." As the landlord spoke, Crowley came to realize the consequences of his most recent shenanigan.