Good Omens (One-Shots)

There Is No Our Side

GOOD OMENS SPOILERS (obviously lol)

My first one-shot, I don't have much experience with eh, with short stories so I hope it's alright. Also, thank you to all who read, comment and vote!!
And, last thing, characters do NOT belong to me. They belong to Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman.

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Matching: Crowley x Aziraphale
Song: None
Written: June 11
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     "There is no 'our side.'"

     The words ran through the demon's head on repeat, over and over and over and over again. A never ending loop. That one sentence was enough to make Crowley, the demon, go insane.

     Crowley couldn't think about anything besides the fact that, well, it was his fault. His fault he lost the Antichrist and followed the wrong boy. His fault he almost caused Armageddon. His fault he got Aziraphale involved. His fault his best friend most likely hates him now. It's all his fault.

     Wasn't it?

     Snake-like eyes wandered the ceiling, running over every crack and groove, looking at them through only memory as it was too dark to see. He glanced to the place where he knew the largest crack was imbedded, a four inch long cranny running diagonally over the patterned ceiling.

     The male demon sighed, why couldn't he just be like most demons? Demons just cause danger, harm and fear. What about him? What about Crowley? He's always had some sort of emotions. Maybe it was from being around humans for too long. Maybe it was in his blood. Maybe he was just different. Unordinary. Wrong. But why?

     Crowley sat up, the sheets around him shifting and falling off his bare chest. He ran a hand down his face, unsuccessfully wiping the exhausted expression away. He swung his legs over the side of his king-sized bed and stood up. Pulling on a pair of flannel pyjama bottoms over his boxers, he walked out of the dark room, navigating his way by only memory.

     The male stumbled down the hall of his flat, subconsciously heading to the kitchen. Crowley made himself some herbal tea, the herbs came from a house plant in the corner he recently scared into growing.

     Once he had a hot beverage, he headed back up the hall to the family room. I guess he couldn't call it that as.. well, he had no family. Living room, we'll say. He reached the living room and sat on a leather couch near the fireplace, pulling a blanket from the end of the furniture. Crowley pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders, holding his cup in the other hand.

     Why? Why did Aziraphale say it? What changed? There used to be an 'our side', what happened to it? Did he finally come to his senses? Did he blame Crowley too? Did Aziraphale think of Crowley as a demon and nothing more? Did he think nothing of him but a lying, dirty, silver-tongued cheat?

     Crowley couldn't blame him. He couldn't even find it within himself to be even slightly annoyed with the angel. After all, why be upset at an angel telling the truth? It is the truth, isn't it? That he was to blame? It must be if Aziraphale told it.

     The purest heart Crowley has ever met resided in that boy, the angel. That includes children and most certainly other angels.

     A knock at the door interrupted him, pulling him out of his thoughts. Strange. Who would be knocking at this hour? Two AM, who could it be?

     I'm sure all these readers could guess and you are right. It was Aziraphale.

     Crowley opened the door, blanket still wrapped around his bare shoulders, his tea was on the end table in the fami– living room.

     When he saw who it was, he nearly yelped and closed the door but settled for a surprised expression. "Aziraphale.." he breathed, well.. that's quite the wrong term. He felt like he couldn't breathe, that his chest was constricted, even though it was bare.

     "Quite right," Aziraphale nodded.

     They stared at each other for a few seconds (Read: minutes) before clearing his throat and opening the door wider, "right, erm, would you like to come in for some tea?" Crowley hadn't realized it before but now that he spoke, he noticed a lump at the back of his throat that caused his voice to break. Crowley cursed his luck.

     "Ah, yes, that would be lovely, thank you," the angel smiled and walked in the flat, heading straight for the kitchen. Crowley thanked his lucky stars that Aziraphale didn't notice. After all, how embarrassing!

     "I erm, I came to apologize. I didn't think before I spoke and–" Aziraphale was cut off.

     "No need to apologize, Angel. I'm the one that's sorry. If I hadn't convinced, tempted, you to go against your... side, then we wouldn't be here. And I certainly wouldn't have gotten you in trouble with the men upstairs."

     "Bu–"

     "No, listen, please," Crowley frowned, his lungs tightening more and more. He had to force the words out, "I'm sorry, Angel. Sometimes... Sometimess, I wish I hadn't met you so you would be sssafe and sssound, not in trouble with your people and certainly not asssociated with me."

     "You.. wish you.. never met me?" Aziraphale's eyes widened, his glasses nearly slipping off his face. He pushed them back up, all while maintaining a surprised—and shocked—expression.

     Crowley shook his head, his snake-like eyes also growing wide, "not like that, Darling! I meant that if we hadn't met, you would've had such a better life. That'sss all."

     Aziraphale sighed, his shocked expression rested, and he glanced up, giving Crowley a look that showed him just how old Aziraphale actually was. 6032 years old actually. Immediately, Crowley looked down at the table, unable to bare that look the other male had given him. It was new, he'd never seen it on such a pretty angel's face.

     "Crowley," at the sound of his name, said person looked up. Aziraphale was looking at him with a sympathetic expression, not pity but sympathy. "Crowley, I don't care what kind of trouble we get in. Whether you get us in it or me. I don't care. As long as.. As long as..." he swallowed, as if he, too, had a lump in his throat.

     "Yesss?" Crowley frowned, tilting his head confusedly. Aziraphale smiled softly and took one of Crowley's hands, the one that wasn't clutching the blanket.

     "As long as we're together. I like being with you, Crowley. Doesn't matter if we're an angel and a demon or just two humans. When I am with you, I'm happiest," Aziraphale's smile was filled with hope.

     Crowley's eyesbrows furrowed, "doess thisss mean what I think it doesss?"

     Aziraphale giggled and entwined their fingers, Crowley's eyes shot down to their locked fingers, a light dusting covered his cheeks and boy, was he glad the light was dim from the fire.

     "Yes, Crowley. This means I.. I think I love you," the angel nodded and the chest constricting pain from before just.. evaporated. It disappeared like dandelion seeds from a children's breath. In its place, was that.. is that relief?

     "I..." Crowley licked his lips. How did he feel? Was the chest aching pain... was it love? No, no. Was it.. Oh. Heartbreak. That would make much sense! After all, it only happened after he started thinking about how much Aziraphale must hate him..

     Crowley suddenly grinned, tears springing to his eyes, he lunged and hugged the small angel to his chest, "Y'know, I think I love you too, angel."