Good omens one shots

7 ; c×a - rotten

ANGST back here to slap y'all

not a request but while I work on the snake eyes one I'll do a really quick one

I got this idea while listening to xanny by Billie Eilish owo

♤♤♤

Crowley strolled into the bookshop at around noon, grinning from ear to ear mischievously. He had just done another small deed for hell, and most people would think that after everything that had happened with the almost-apocolypse, he wouldn't enjoy it. But he did. Sometimes.

Aziraphale's smile brightened ten times more when he saw the demon walk in. "Hello, dearest."

"Don't greet me like I'm an everyday customer," Crowley smiled, walking behind the counter and quickly kissing him.

"I don't greet everyone like that," he said. "Just you."

Just then, a man walked in, and Aziraphale greeted him, "Welcome, dear!"

Crowley raised an eyebrow, and the angel shrugged apologetically. "Sorry."

"That's alright, I suppose," He shrugged, walking into the back to find something to drink.

The smell of rotting flesh hit Crowley's nose, and he bleched, holding his breath. He walked all through the house, but the stench only led him to the kitchen.

So, with a brave face, and walked in. It was a normal kitchen. Quite nice, actually. Although the small stacks of books by the stove were a fire hazard, it was a perfectly safe and clean kitchen. Except the smell.

Crowley looked and looked and looked, but he couldn't find where it originated from.

"Angel! Can you come here?"

Aziraphale took a minute, but he showed up, pinching his nose. "What did you do? Kill something and leave it here for weeks?"

"No," Crowley hissed. "Whatever. I'll just miracle it away."

And then the smell was gone. Suddenly. Like the air suddenly leaves your lungs when you're punched in the gut. Or like a bullet is gone from the gun when someone shoots it.

It was a rather rotten smell. Aziraphale was glad it was gone.

♤♤♤

There would be a time, Crowley knew, when Gabriel would find out that Aziraphale was more intimate with a demon than to his liking. And he knee the punishment wouldn't be a small one.

"Bye, now!" Aziraphale called out to his last customer, closing and locking the door after them. He flipped the 'closed' sign over and went back to his desk to count the small amount of money he had gotten. He never sold his books unless he had doubles.

"Hurry up!" Crowley said from the backroom, sitting lazily on the couch with a wine glass in hand.

"Give me a second," Aziraphale sighed, stuffing the 5 dollars into a random drawer.

He walked back to where Crowley was sitting, poured himself a glass, and started their usual evening routine.

It was about an hour later, when Crowley and Aziraphale were properly drunk, that they were having a rather messy make out session on the couch.

"Hello?"

Of course, neither the demon nor the angel could hear Gabriel calling out greetings and names as he walked throughout the entire shop.

But then he gasped. And stepped on a creaky floorboard. And then Crowley looked up. And so did Aziraphale.

Aziraphale was blushing madly, while Crowley didn't seem to care much at all. They both sobered up almost immediately.

"What are you doing?" Gabriel asked loudly.

"Sitting here, what does it look like?" Crowley hissed.

"What were you doing?" He asked, crossing his arms at Aziraphale.

"We... well..." Aziraphale was stuttering like a mad man, and his red face did not help the situation.

"T-This is unbelievable! Unforgivable! Unimaginable! Unacceptable! This is rotten," The archangel yelled, and now even he was flustered.

"I think it's fine," Crowley scoffed, flipping his glasses on.

"Well of course you do! You're a demon," Gabriel countered. "Aziraphale. A word."

Aziraphale waved bye to Crowley, face still red as ever and followed Gabriel out the door. He didn't return that night.

♤♤♤

Crowley quietly pushed the bookshop door open the next night, and Aziraphale was there, counting the till. His eyes were blank and red.

"Angel," Crowley said, breaking the silence.

"Crowley? Why are you here?" He asked, looking up in surprise.

"Am I not allowed to see you now?" The demon asked, closing the door behind him.

"No, that's not it... I just thought maybe you didn't want to come around again after last night," Aziraphale said, hugging him tightly.

"Of course not, fuck Gabriel," He smiled.

"He said if he ever caught us like that again, he'd make me fall," Aziraphale sighed, his voice muffled by Crowley's shirt.

"Then we can be secret," He offered.

"Anything," The angel smiled, looking up at him.

Over the next month or so, Aziraphale and Crowley didn't show displays of attention in public, in case someone was watching. In fact, they even took it a step farther to glare hatefully at eachother if they happened to cross paths outside.

But when the bookshop doors closed, and the blinds were shut, they embraced and didn't let go until morning. Crowley's plants were deteriorating. Aziraphale's books were neglected to be read.

"Crowley," Aziraphale had said one night. "I can't keep doing this. Living like this."

"Then don't," Crowley said. "Gabriel wouldn't dare to make you fall."

"He would. I know."

"Then what do you want to do? I can stop arguing in public, I-I can... I can let you read your books at night, even," He pleaded, starting to get worried.

"I'm sorry," Aziraphale said, tears falling down his cheeks.

"Me or heaven," The demon said, standing up. "Choose now."

"I..." He paused. "I l-love you, but I have to ch-choose heaven... I'm sorry."

"Well." Crowley taps his foot. "Didn't need you anyway."

The angel makes a pained expression. "There really is no need for that—"

"I never needed you. Sorry."

Aziraphale gathers himself, tears slipping down his cheeks. "I forgive you."

"Don't bother."

Before he could say anything else, Crowley was gone, leaving a single black feather in his place. A real nasty stench filled the air again, like Crowley had taken back all of his miracles.

The stench was rotten.

♤♤♤

Pt. Two where Crowley offs himself??? Idk what do you think

Haha I live for angst