Good Omens One Shots 1

Dream 6

The next time Aziraphale fell asleep, there was no waking up in the arms of his favorite demon. The angel groaned as he blindly grasped at the other side of the bed for if the demon had slithered away. No such luck. In fact, it seemed as though the other end of the bed had been untouched meaning one thing: Crowley wasn't here -- the demon always left the sheets a mess if he was here.

Aziraphale groaned as he rolled out of bed. There wasn't a whole lot of point being here if Crowley wasn't. At least he could catch up on his reading, thanks to his ever updating personal library.

Time passed differently in this dream-land. There were no clocks here that Aziraphale could use to measure how long he had actually been sitting in his reading nook until there was a shift in the air. Automatically the angel was up on his feet and smiling.

Out of the corner of his eye, Aziraphale spied his favorite red headed demon emerging from the bedroom, his traditionnel dark garb on and his gardening boots donned. The angel took his time putting the books he had finished away in their correct places -- disregarding that no matter where he set the books down they would return to their proper places by his next visit. Aziraphale started to hum slightly as he walked through the cottage to finally grab Crowley's attention. He was infinitely glad the demon had showed up, this visit would have been so dreadfully boring without him.

Crowley was out in the garden, his hair -- very much resembling the real-Crowley's current hair -- was long enough to actually be pulled back into a half-up half-down bun. Red strands blew slightly in the breeze as the demon got down to work with gardening. It seemed as if he hadn't noticed Aziraphale trailing behind him, must've been lost in thought -- not that Aziraphale had any idea what a dream-demon could possibly be thinking about.

As Crowley stood up and wiped his soil covered hands off each other to adjust his hair, Azirphale took the opportunity to wrap his own hands around the demons waist and tuck up behind him in a hug.

The serpent froze at the touch, a small hitch of his breath barely audible before being let go and relaxing into the angel's touch.

"Aziraphale..." Crowley breathed and turned slightly to look into the angel's eyes.

"Hello my dear," Aziraphale smiled up into those serpentine eyes, "Planning on doing much more gardening today?"

The demon chuckled and wiped his hands on his jeans to get the rest of the dirt off of them, "I've barely started."

Aziraphale pouted and tightened his grip.

"Do you have other plans then?" Crowley squirmed and twisted while in the confines of his arms so they were now face to face.

"Very much so." Aziraphale's lips quirked into a dopey smile, wondering briefly if this dream-demon would be averse to being kissed. He quickly dismissed the thought as Crowley had pried himself away, while the angel was deliberating -- that wily serpent.

Crowley swayed away, with his gardening tools gathered and in hand, "You're always distracting me from my work angel." he laughed. "Real life and dream-life."

Aziraphale joined in chuckling, as he followed him to the shed, "Yes, well, at least in my dreams there aren't any consequences." he retorted quickly. "None of your superiors are going to take you away from me."

The serpent turned halfway to the angel, eyeing him as if considering the thought for the first time. Aziraphale grinned just so happy that Crowley was here and that they were together.

It was quite comforting when Crowley acted like his real self, it was like peering through a looking glass into what a future in the real-world could be like. That was, unfortunately, very unlikely. Real-Crowley had his own issues and hang-ups and superiors to answer to -- well, lie to in most cases. The demon couldn't spend every waking moment with Aziraphale and cater his every need like this figment of his imagination did so effortlessly. Yes, there were some malfunctions and nights where the dream version of Crowley wasn't here, but that was more Aziraphale's subconscious' fault than anything else.

The red headed demon set his tools down and gingerly stepped forward and embraced Aziraphale.

"No consequences," Crowley breathed softly against the angel's shoulder, voice barely above a whisper.

"No consequences," Aziraphale repeated, ducking his head against the demon's chest as they held each other tightly.

He woke up.

Aziraphale hummed as he added the finishing touches to the table. He glared slightly at the candles so they wouldn't shine too bright, he wanted it dim -- maybe the damned demon would finally take off his sunglasses if it was too dark.

Smoothing out the tablecloth for the millionth time, he went back to the kitchen to make sure the wine was chilling correctly and that the food was still warm. It was, it wouldn't dare to be anything less. Now all he had to do was wait for the dream demon to show up.

Things between them had been so good as of late. They were always good as long as Crowley was here. And he had been, more consistently at least. The angel still remembered that long insufferable period when the dream demon had been absent from his mind just a decade ago.

Ironically, Aziraphale hadn't seen the real demon in quite some time and thus has been craving a night out with him. Alas, when the real Crowley couldn't fulfill that need -- being somewhere not in the angels current social circles -- dream Crowley was always here at his disposal.

The angel had put himself to sleep early tonight to prepare for the demon's arrival. He was eager to see how the night would turn out and more importantly he wanted to spoil his dream demon. He could so rarely show affection of the sort with the real version and having this escape was nice to do as he wished. To escape the expectations and rules of the real world.

A familiar ripple went through the dream and Aziraphale couldn't help the wide grin from cracking across his face.

Crowley was here.

The angel rubbed his hands together and double checked everything once again as he awaited the demon to emerge from the bedroom. Dining room table, set. Food, cooked. Wine, chilled. Candles, dimmed. Everything was ready to go.

"Angel?" Crowley called out as he stumbled out into the living/dining room.

Just as planned he had his sunglasses in hand as he squinted in the dimm lighting. Aziraphale grinned and stood waiting next to the finely decorated table.

The demon froze as he took in the sight, his sunglasses clattering to the floor, "Wha-" his golden eyes dilated in the dimm lighting leaving no whites in his eye. He spared a look back to the bedroom before turning back as if in disbelief.

"Please do sit down." Aziraphale called out softly, placing his hand on the back of the chair and pulled it out.

Crowley stumbled forward eyes glazed over in a daze as he let the angel guide him into the chair. "What is this?"

"It's dinner." Aziraphale chirped, rushing to get the wine and pouring it for the two of them.

"You cooked?" Crowley's voice was weak as he spoke.

The angel laughed and sipped at his wine delightedly, "Yes, I did dear. I wanted a nice dinner for the two of us."

The demon hummed and took a shaky sip of his own glass. "Right."

Aziraphale fought the urge to ask if Crowley liked it. He was part of his imagination, this was a dream, of course he liked it. It was so easy to forget that in the moment.

"You... did this." Crowley said slowly, his eyes flitting over the table and the china and candles Aziraphale had decorated with.

The angel nodded. "It's so rare I get to be this... open with you. I very much appreciate our time together and how you make me feel. I wanted to do something nice."

"That's an understatement. Angel this is..." he trailed off.

Aziraphale clapped his hands and stood, "Well, shall we get started? I have that pasta that the real version of you so adored back when we met up in Italy. I had never seen you eat so much before. Obviously, I'm not the culinary chef of your dreams however with a few miracles I think I got it pretty close."

As the angel walked away ready to serve the dish Crowley said quietly, "Sounds perfect angel."