Good Omens oneshots

Things Would be Better

"You know what it's like, when you don't know anything at all and yet you're totally certain that everything would be better if you were just near one particular person?"

Saying no was a lie. A harmless, white lie. But a lie nonetheless. He had gotten better at lying, he thought. Saying no didn't send a surge of painful misery rippling through him. Or maybe it was because he wasn't talking to Gabriel. Not really, anyway.

Either way, he had lied. He knew what it was like. He knew that feeling better than anybody else on Earth. Probably because he had had thousands of years to experience it.

He thought about that a lot, about how things would be better if he was just near that one person.

He was especially thinking about it now. Nothing was particularly wrong, he just felt nearly crippled by a mixture of anxiety and guilt. He had been feeling that a lot recently, ever since he had rejected the offer to go back to Heaven. He kept it buried inside his chest, hidden with laughter and smiles. He hadn't wanted anyone to worry, didn't want them to know he was on the brink of a panic attack over it all.

Days went by, time only pushing him closer to the edge, threatening to shove him into the black pit of despair.

Despite his inner turmoil, he found himself about to tell someone. He knew they would worry about him, they would ask why he didn't talk to anybody sooner, but he really just wished they would be upset at him. He would take someone being angry at him, but someone worrying over him was something else entirely.

***

"You've been quiet today," Crowley commented, curling himself onto the couch.

"How do you mean?" Aziraphale asked, glancing up from a stack of books. He looked back down, grabbing the top book and setting it in the middle of the stack like he was organizing them and not just looking for an excuse to not make eye contact.

"Don't get me wrong, you're quiet often, but you've said less words today than you normally do, even on your quiet days. Also you sound upset."

"I don't sound upset, what are you talking about?" Aziraphale asked genuinely. He thought he had been doing a good job at keeping his emotions out of his voice, hadn't he?

"You do. Just a little, but something about your tone is off," Crowley said. Aziraphale could feel the demon's eyes carefully watching him as he continued to pretend to sort books.

"I'm fine, everything's alright," the angel said quietly.

"Sounds like you're avoiding something. And you've been fidgeting with those books for five minutes, you keep putting them out of order then back in order."

"Oh, would you stop analyzing everything I do?" Aziraphale sighed and turned to Crowley with his arms crossed, though he was using it as an excuse to dig his fingers into his arms, trying to keep himself calm.

Crowley smiled lightly and patted the spot on the couch next to himself. "Come sit down, Angel. You're stressing me out with how stressed out you are." He unfolded his legs from under himself, scooting over a bit to give Aziraphale more room.

"I'm not stressed," Aziraphale muttered, but crossed the room and sat.

"Here, would you let go of your arms? You're going to make yourself bleed." Crowley let out a sigh that made Aziraphale feel cared about, and gently pulled the angel's arms out of their crossed position. The angel hadn't realized how tightly he was holding onto himself, his skin stung where his fingernails had dug into it.

Crowley slid his hands down Aziraphale's arms, trailing his fingers down the angel's wrists before carefully taking his hands. "Take a breath."

"I'm fine, really-" Aziraphale started.