Good Omens Oneshots

His Needs~

Aziraphale closed the bookshop early one Friday. He decided that he needed to go to the pub, look for someone to hang out with, look for someone to scratch an itch that had been growing inside of him.

When he left for the pub, it was about 6:30pm, and by 7:00 he was in a seat at the bar with a sherry in his hand, looking out at all of the people who quickly filed in. He sighs and notices that nobody's paying him any attention, so he makes sure nobody's looking, and switches his outfit quickly.

He's now just wearing a white button up—with two buttons undone— and some black slacks. He smiles as he gets the attention of a younger guy, probably in his late twenties.

Aziraphale sways back in his seat and takes a sip of his drink, the younger guy walking over to Aziraphale. "Hi, I'm Lance." The guy smiles, sitting next to Aziraphale.

"Ezra, it's nice to meet you." Aziraphale says, realizing that nobody would remember his name, so he may as well use the nickname he hasn't heard since before Jesus died.

"Well, Ezra, you look great tonight." Lance says, smiling and setting a skinny hand on Aziraphale's forearm.

"As do you, Lance. Care for a drink?" Aziraphale asks, waving the bartender over their way. "Another sherry for me and a..." Aziraphale starts, looking over at Lance.

"Club soda." Lance says, running his hand on Aziraphale's arm absentmindedly.

"Yes, a club soda for my friend here." Aziraphale says, smiling at the bartender.

"What's your story?" Lance asks, Aziraphale just now noticing the accent on the young man, it's definitely not English... maybe German?

"Ah, nothing much, I'm afraid." Aziraphale lies. "I've lived here for a long time, not much to tell, I suppose." He continues. "What about yours, Lance?" He asks.

"Well, I'm from Germany, moved here young, though. Graduated university a few years back, and now I work in London." Lance says, smiling widely.

"Just graduated university, huh?" Aziraphale asks, interested. He doesn't actually know many people who went to university.

"Oh, not into younger guys?" Lance asks, taking a sip of the club soda the bartender produced for him.

"Oh it's not a problem, just curious. What did you study?" Aziraphale asks, hoping that he doesn't look like some old man looking for a young guy to hook up with.

"Ah, literature. I'm a schoolteacher now and I write on the side." Lance smiles, Aziraphale getting excited.

"Oh that's lovely! What age do you teach?" Aziraphale asks, genuinely interested in this guy.

"Ages 16-18 mainly. They don't enjoy it very much, but I love our standards. We're practically soaring through Shakespeare's work." Lance says, making Aziraphale smile wider. "Shakespeare fan, are you?" Lance asks, laughing under his breath.

"Oh yes! I have many of his original pieces, actually." Aziraphale smiles, kind of showing off. "It was passed down through my family, as was the bookshop I now own." Aziraphale lies, once again. That's the one bad thing about doing these things with humans, but he needs to scratch that itch.

"Oh I would just love to see that." Lance says, voice dropping an octave. 

"I could show you." Aziraphale says, picking up what Lance is putting down.

"That'd be lovely." Lance says, drinking his drink quickly, Aziraphale doing the same.

When the two stand from the bar and Aziraphale passes cash to the bartender for the both of them, that's when the door to the pub bursts open, making everyone turn their heads to the door.