Good omens one shots

8 ; c×a - putrid yellow eyes

Request by Robin_Kid

Y'all: ANOTHER ANGST!? WHY!?
ME: i <3 em

Okay so it's gonna be semi-angst because I've had a lot of straight up (although not so straight) A N G S T in these past 2 chapters. So yeah.

There's going to be a lot of (blah blah blah)

And now, prepare for the weirdest opening ever!

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Crowley licked the rest of the yogurt off the lid with his tongue, careful not to get any on his mouth. Aziraphale watched.

"What?" Crowley asked, noticing Aziraphale.

"Your tongue is forked. Like a snake," he deadpanned.

"....yes, it is," The demon raised an eyebrow. "So what?"

"N-Nothing," He sighed, looking away. There was a light shade of pink on his cheeks, not that Crowley noticed.

And, since he didn't notice it, he instead thought that maybe Aziraphale thought it was gross, and so he shrunk down in his throne. Throne. Why did he choose to have a throne? He must look like a dick. Maybe even a sack of 12.

"Must you wear your sunglasses inside? It's just the two of us," Aziraphale said awkwardly.

"Yes, I must," Crowley hissed, setting the lid on the table. "I don't like my eyes."

"That was very matter-of-fact," he said, hand to chest.

"Well, there's no point in denying it, is there?" The demon sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "Oh well. S'not like I can do anything about it."

"Have you tried contacts? A miracle?" Aziraphale asked.

"Yes, I have. The contacts are uncomfortable and always fall out," Crowley said. "And miracles cannot fix demonic imperfections. Sorry it bothered you so much."

"I actually l-"

"Save the act, Angel, I don't feel like hearing it right now," He said, standing up.

"But..." Aziraphale stopped and just watched him leave. No point in chasing after him.

Perhaps Aziraphale should have left right then. Maybe it wouldn't have gone down like it did. But who knows, really? Well, God did, but it's not like she would have told anyone.

"Crowley, I think maybe we should talk about it," He said bravely, stepping into the kitchen where he was rummaging through the fridge.

Crowley looked up, and stepped back from the fridge. In his arms was a can of sardines, mayo, honey, nutella and salami.

"Please don't make that while I'm trying to have a serious conversation," Aziraphale said.

He hissed, forked tongue flicking out of his mouth as he mashed all of the ingredients together. Aziraphale knew he ate this mixture all the time, he was just annoyed he was eating it right now. It was annoying. He was annoyed thoroughly. Very much annoyed.

"Continue," Crowley said, shoving half of it into his mouth.

Aziraphale still could not understand how or why he ate so fast. "Alright..."

"I said, continue," He swallowed.

"Did you even chew that!?" He said loudly.

"Oh, stop stalling! And no, I didn't," Crowely yelled back. "So what? I'll do it again!"

He swallowed the other half just as quickly.

"Ew!" Aziraphale said, taking a step back.

"Yeah, sorry for offending your perfect angel eyes," he growled. "Listen. If you hate so much about me, then why don't you just leave?"

"M-Maybe I will! And don't speak I'll of my eyes!" The angel called after him, walking towards the door. "You're the one with the putrid yellow ones!"

And then the door slammed. Perhaps Aziraphale should have left earlier. What did you expect, though? He's an angel, it's what angels do. They try to make everyone (in Aziraphale's case, a particularly agitated demon) better.

Crowley was hurt. Beyond what he believed possible. Putrid? He had always known his eyes to be hideous, but to hear it from the one constant in his life was heart breaking.

"Yeah!" He yelled to no one. "It's not like I needed you anyways!"

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If you couldn't tell by now, Aziraphale hadn't meant what he said. In fact, he loved Crowley's eyes. That's why he asked him to take them off (in a subtle manner, of course).

"Oh..." he started, struggling for words, as he was not wanting to curse. "....Oh, forget it..."

The angel rose from the couch and walked to his bookshop door, flipping the sign from 'closed' to 'open'. He sighed, unlocking the door and shifting the blinds to a middle position, so that if you were to see it (in a specific height range) you'd see rows of thin white lines.

Aziraphale used to have a tan pull down sheet, but after his bookshop was restored, they were different. Just like how the Bentley's radio knob was a different shape. 80 years riding around in it will make you notice odd things like so.

As customers filed in and out of his bookshop (more of a library, really), all Aziraphale could think of was Crowley. He groaned in annoyance as he rubbed his eyes.

There was a man, about thirty....four, maybe, who wouldn't stop browsing the books. Wasn't really his fault, there were no hours posted for the shop, so it's not like the man knew he had to leave.

He almost called Crowley to get him out. Almost. But, being stubborn like he is, he held his ground and simply smiled.

♤♤♤

Our demon, as well as the angel, was getting more and more agrivated. Currently, though, he was sort of just staring at himself in the bathroom mirror, inspecting his snake like features. His tongue, when not being focused on, was thing and forked.

Crowley's eyes had yellow irises, and when in stressful situations, the iris expanded into the white bit, whose name I cannot recall. (Anyone know?)

Perhaps he could try contacts again. The thought had crossed his mind on numerous occasions. He looked down at his glasses. Well, he couldn't wear them while he was trying to tell Az-

His inner monologue was sadly interrupted when there was a loud bang at the door. He slipped the sunglasses on and walked to the door.

Since his peephole had been covered up by dust and dirt and was told difficult to clear, he just didn't bother with it. Even after a miracle it got dirty an hour later.

So, Crowley yanked the door inwards, looking out the large gaping hole that was his doorway.

Aziraphale was standing there, twisting a cloth in his hands. "Ah, h-hello, Crowley."

"What do you want?" He asked casually, leaning against the frame.

"I want to talk, of course," The angel smiled. "A-About the whole 'eyes' ordeal."

"Mm..." Crowley thought. "We've already talked. You shared your feelings, I didn't get to share mine. All's fair, I guess. See you later."

"B-"

The door slammed shut. There was no talking to Crowley to tonight.

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Haha BAM even though it wasn't really what you asked I'm sorry

it wasn't too angsty because I used a lot of angst juice on the last chapters so I hope it's okay