Good Omens One Shots 1

Dream 1

Aziraphale blinked awake into, what he could only assume was, a dream.

The angel had never fallen asleep before, wasn't sure if his corporation could even dream like humans did. It must since... here he was.

He was in a small room, a bedroom of sorts. 'Homey' wasn't quite the word he would use to describe it. It seemed to be an attempt of that but missed the mark by just a hair.

The silk black bed sheets, for example, weren't exactly what Aziraphale found comfortable. However the arrangement of fluffy pillows behind him told another story. There were bookshelves along the wall, yet they sat empty with the exception of a lonely looking ivy. It was all just a touch off the mark, except for maybe one thing.

Standing before him was Crowley... in white. Aziraphale knew immediately this was a dream based on that one detail alone. Dreams didn't need to be realistic; from what he had heard from humans, they rarely were. And this little figment in his imagination seemed to be exactly what Aziraphale had needed to see today, his body relaxing.

"Is that a wedding dress?" the angel called out offhandedly, startling the serpent before him.

The demon spun around, clearly stunned at the presence of an angel. He was in fact wearing a wedding dress. A three paneled mirror stood before him -- as Aziraphale had caught Crowley admiring the different angles. He was standing on a platform barefoot with a very elegant looking white dress. Open-backed, sleeveless but the skirt pooled around his toes in an excess white fabric.

"Wha-? Aziraphale?! What are you doing here?" Crowley had the nerve to look embarrassed, clutching the dress to his chest as if he was revealing too much skin. His dreaded glasses were nowhere to be found, so serpentine eyes were staring unblocked at the angel. His hair, that Aziraphale so adored, was significantly longer than he remembered and pinned up in an intricate mess that left a few strands falling down his back and framing his face.

The angel patted his surroundings, and worked to navigate the jet black covers and an abundance of pillows so he could rest against the headboard.

"I guess I must've fallen asleep." Aziraphale stood, checking his own corporation to make sure it was all there. This was all quite new to him this... dreaming thing.

Crowley just stared as if he'd seen a ghost, "Two thousand years... and now is when you fall asleep?"

Aziraphale frowned, peering at the demon curiously. Crowley had never spoken to him in such a way -- maybe a stray utterance under his breath in the same tone as he walked away but never directly to his face. Why would his subconscious have the demon to speak to him in this manner when Aziraphale would prefer something a bit gentler?

"This dream version of you is very forward," was all he could think to say.

The serpent's cheeks blushed and he shut his mouth. He gathered his skirts and stepped off the platform, snapping a partition into the room and soon disappeared behind it.

Aziraphale frowned but thought nothing more of it, eager to see everything this 'dream' had to offer. Humans always had fantastical stories about their dreams, and Aziraphale would be lying to say that he wasn't just a little bit curious to see what all the hype was about.

He walked into the hallway, seeing that the cottage was a fairly simple layout. There were two doors in the hall and the end spilled into what he assumed must be a sitting room and kitchen. Throughout the entire house seemed to be the theme of 'plants'. To an extent where it was starting to resemble eden.

'Clever' Aziraphale thought to himself with amusement. He truly had missed the garden after all this time, it was only right that his subconscious cling to a part of that in his dreams.

He walked into the sitting room and once again there were shelves with almost nothing on them except for the occasional plant. Aziraphale didn't understand why this was the case when he could easily think of plenty of wonderful books to be there instead. 'Maybe I don't have complete control over this dream,' he wondered.

There was an armchair that looked like an odd mimication of the one he had owned during his century-long stay in Egypt. Aziraphale regarded it curiously, humming as he traced his hand over a table that had the engravings of one he and Crowley had dined at not too long ago. It brought back fond memories of the demon, speaking of which...

"Sorry." Crowley grumbled, stumbling passed the angel. Still tugging on his new shirt. "I wasn't expecting you."

He was wearing a pair of dark high waisted slacks. The shirt he was wearing was way too big for him and a cream color that more suited something Aziraphale would wear.

'He's even wearing my clothes,' Aziraphale thought fondly, 'how adorable'. Real Crowley would never wear that, but this version... was quite cute for a demon. The angel blushed at the thought of his adversary ever being cute -- dream or not. Crowley could be nothing of the sort.

"Nothing to apologize for dear." Aziraphale cleared his throat, looking out the grand windows into a real and true garden, "I hadn't meant to fall asleep. Where are we?"

Crowley poured himself a drink of some mystery hard liquor from the bar adjacent to the kitchen, "Dream-land. Can't you tell?"

Aziraphale hummed, admiring the intricacy of the details of the entire house. "Well I assumed that. You're obviously not the real Crowley."

The demon choked on his drink, blinking wide eyed at the angel, "Uh. Sure. You could say that."

"Oh sorry. That was terribly rude of me." Aziraphale backtracked at the perplexed expression on Crowley's face, "I just meant that this is a figment of my imagination. Nothing here is real, it's a dream."

"Right." Those golden serpentine eyes flickered to the angel nervously before staring despondently down into his drink. "You plan on staying here long?" he asked.

Aziraphale tilted his head in thought, "I'm not sure how to get out, if I'm honest. This has never happened before."

Crowley laughed shortly, "Yeah, I know." He cleared his throat, "Well, you can just chill here until you wake-up. I can- I can show you around... if you want."

"That would be lovely, dear." Aziraphale beamed at him.

This was all quite a clever surprise wasn't it, Crowley being here. He was quite content with this situation, against all odds. Maybe the real-Crowley was onto something with this sleeping thing. If he had his own perfect little demon everytime he closed his eyes, well... Aziraphale dared not to finish that thought.

The dream-Crowley gulped down the rest of his drink and started on the tour, pointing out the different plants and mementos from history that could only exist in the angel's mind. It was all quite lovely except for something.

"My dear," Aziraphale interrupted Crowley's rant about the lack of neighbors and the peace and quiet that surrounded them, "There should be books."

"Books." Crowley repeated dumbly, eyes flickering over to the empty shelves on the walls. "What kind of books would you like?"

The angel frowned, thinking about it, "Oh you know, should have some Homer or Sophocles. You know, my favorites. I love a good prophecy if I can get them."

The demon laughed nervously, "Sure, whatever you like, angel. I think I remember something about-"

Aziraphale jolted awake in the real world. His body numb in places from the awkward position he had slumped in at his desk.

"Weird dream," he mumbled, rubbing at his eyes.

Oh dear... had he drooled all over this heavenly report? He winced as he spared a miracle to clean it up. Stupid sleeping corporations, he frowned in disgust.

"Next time I do this... sleeping thing," the angel told himself as he finished reading through the report, "I'll do it in a bed, like a human."

Because there would be a next time.