Good Omens One Shots 1

Touch

Aziraphale didn't regret any of the things he did in Eden. His punishment was harsh but the angel was resourceful and found different ways to cope:

Alcohol was one of his favorites. It was liquid warmth when he drank enough of it. It was easier to relax and forget his constant longing when the world seemed to tilt at a new angle. It made him feel like a warm coat was on his corporation, protecting him from the harsh words of heaven.

There was human companionship. However, that brought up a wave of guilt lasting longer than the comfort he gained. His looming immortality seemed to give him an unfair advantage over the creatures. The lingering touches was enjoyable in the moment but at the end, he would always be one lonely angel.

Food was another favorite. Preferring the hot foods over the cold dishes, there was so much to try. Humans were increasingly creative with how they mixed spices together and the angel absolutely loved every aspect of it. It was a hobby that kept his mind off the tightness in his chest.

His all time favorite coping mechanism came and went like a cold breeze on a hot summer day. Whenever Crowley was in the area the angel always brightened up. During the time of the Arrangement was a time of prosperity and joy for the angel. He could call upon it and the angel and demon would meet up and discuss possible solutions to get their jobs done with the most minimal effort. When this had all occurred, Aziraphale had gotten quite good at squashing down his need to be touched. There was a few rare moments when it all was an overwhelming burden and he broke down yet the demon was never around during then.

Through these episodes Aziraphale couldn't help but long for a comforting touch. Wishing that his oldest friend could understand what he needed and just help him through the worst of the episodes. Yet he knew deep down that it was a fools dream. If his own kind was disgusted at the thought of touching him, why would a demon in his right mind even consider it?

As time passed and as they grew closer. The years leading up to the apocalypse it became tougher to hide his longing. The space between them when they walked or sat down had shrunk over the past 6000 years. Aziraphale could feel the heat radiate off the demon and it was intoxicating. It was a better cure than any of his other methods. Just being near the blasted demon made it so much better while making it so much worse. At moments like these, he was reminded that he longed for touch, not nearness.

Thoughts filled his head as the apocalypse neared that maybe this was the grand test that would get him back into heaven's good graces. Maybe he would finally be allowed to be touched, comforted after his years of hardship on Earth, to feel that heavenly warmth again. So he broke things off with the demon, the only consistent warmth he had ever had on Earth, and it was the single worst decision he had ever made.

He chose heaven and yet was still punished by his own kind and he felt colder than ever.

After the apocalypse everything felt fine. The world was theirs once again. Aziraphale had always felt separated from heaven but now that it was official, it hurt more than he expected it to. Before the apocalypse, he could hold on to the hope that one day he would have pleased the archangels and be let back into heaven's open arms. Now, he knew for a fact that was never ever going to happen. It made his chest hurt and stomach clench.

He would look around and be amazed at how casually people just touched each other, especially couples. Too much exposure to looking at this and the books he loved to read was sometimes too much as thoughts of going through life without any hope of getting what he wanted was despairing. Late in the night he would shiver and just wish for someone to hold him. He would cry softly into his tartan pillows, clutching onto them in fear of the mere concept of his miserable future.