Good Omens (One-Shots)

Fireflies

I should really do those requests...

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Matching: Aziraphale x Crowley
Song: None
Written: July 20
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Aziraphale snapped his head down to look at Crowley. "Pardon?"

The serpentine demon sighed, "I asked why you keep staring at the sky, at Heaven."

"Uh, I wasn't.."

"Aziraphale," Crowley pursed his lips. "I know that during all 6000 years we knew each other—and before that, you were the perfect little soldier. So I know that you're finding it hard to let go of them after following their each and every order for millennia." Crowley smiled, grabbing the angel's hand. "You can let go, now. You're free. We're free."

Aziraphale stood abruptly, ripping his hand from Crowley's grip, "I don't know what you're talking about. I certainly did not follow each and every order! And—"

Crowley stood as well and shrugged, "most orders, you did. Each and every one except, well, meeting up with me. You were never one to sneak around so it wasn't exactly your fault."

"—I was not their 'perfect little soldier'! How dare you accuse such a thing! I was not obedient, I was not a fighter, I did very little for them, in all," he snapped.

The demon frowned, what has gotten into him? "Angel—"

"Don't call me that!" The angel stuck a finger in the demon's face.

Crowley stumbled backwards, surprised from the aggression in Aziraphale's tone. "Aziraphale, what the Hell has gotten into you?"

"None of your concern, demon," the blue-eyed entity spat, crossing his arms.

The golden eyed demon blinked at him, not comprehending the situation, "Azir-"

"Just go."

"What?" His voice was merely a whisper.

Aziraphale glared at him and said, gritting his teeth, "Go away, shoo, leave me alone, goodbye."

Crowley opened and closed his mouth a few times, stammering incoherently. The only word he managed to find was, "fine," and it came out only a squeak. He wouldn't admit it, but tears were starting to form behind the dark sunglasses he wears.

The demon turned, and left the angel standing by their bench in St James' park.

"Trouble in Paradise?" A passerby asked curiously. "I've been there," he continued when he got Aziraphale's attention. "Don't let him away, he clearly loves you."

Crowley.. loves me? The angel thought, his eyes widening.

The Bentley decided it would only play Queen's love songs. Over and over until it reached Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy, then Crowley had enough.

He yelled out and slammed the button to turn the audio off, also slamming on his brakes. He hadn't realized it but he was driving out of town—he was possibly half way to Tadfield.

Crowley took off his glasses and finally let the tears fall, he was surrounded by a wooded area—not that he could see much because everything was completely dark. He rested his forehead against the steering wheel, letting the gateway that held the sobs back break.