Good Omens One-shots

Angel

Aziraphale slid the book back into its spot on the shelf with a satisfied sigh. A man had come in rather desperate to buy it. Aziraphale was proud to say that he had saved the book.

The bell above the door jingled noisily as it opened.

"I'm sorry, I'm afraid we're closed!" Aziraphale shouted without bothering to look away from his bookshelf.

"Aziraphale!" A familiar voice called, quite obviously panicked. The angel spun around, baffled by the noise. "Brother, I've been looking everywhere for you!"

"Castiel, what are you doing here? Last I heard you were in America."

Castiel paused and glanced around, his black wings brushing against the shelves. "Where have you been, brother? Why are you not at you post in Heaven?"

Aziraphale shrugged, "Same reason as you," he muttered. "I suppose."

Castiel blinked, caught off guard by the response. "Oh, well, that's rather unfortunate. Anyways, I've not come for small-talk. I have questions." Aziraphale urged him on with a nod. "Do you have beer, by any chance?"

"My my. You've gone American."

Castiel rolled his eyes. "Oh, be quiet. It helps me think."

Aziraphale snapped and a beer appeared in his hand. "Here," he chuckled, handing it to Castiel.

The dark haired angel nodded and accepted the bottle.

Aziraphale, with a silent gesture, ushered Castiel over to the couch. "Now, why, exactly have you come by the shop?" He held a glass of newly-created wine to his lips, a polite smile playing on his lips.

Castiel blushed, something he didn't know he was able to do up until now. "I need help, brother." He took a large swallow of the alcohol. "With — with relationship stuff. And, you know, how to tell someone how you feel about them."

Aziraphale's face burned into the roots of his hair as the glass of wine in his hands exploded. "Oh!" He gasped in surprise. "Oh, my coat!" His coat had splashes of red wine up and down the front. He shimmies it off and lays it across the arm of the sofa. I'll have Crowley fix it later. He thinks to himself.

"What," Aziraphale continues. "Makes you think I know anything about, erm, relationships?"

Castiel glanced at Aziraphale, visibly confused. "But," he muttered. "You've been in a relationship for nearly six-thousand years, I thought? With the redhead."

"Crowley?!" Aziraphale said, his eyes widening. "No! I mean — we aren't — that is to say — you see —"

"I know a Crowley," Cas interrupted, giving Aziraphale a moment of relief. "He's king of Hell."

Instantly all color drained from Aziraphale's face. "Oh, I do hope that's not him."

Castiel didn't seem to notice anything unusual about how Aziraphale's demeanor had changed. "No, no. My Crowley's got black hair. He's short, rather plump. Was never —" He hesitated. "Well, I'm pretty sure he was never an angel."

They sat in silence for quite some time. Aziraphale though about Crowley and Cas of Dean.

With a sigh, Castiel finally said, "You're as hopeless as I am, brother."

"Yes, I know." Aziraphale's voice was soft and his eyes were cast down. "I know I am."

Silence once more blanketed the room. Aziraphale's eyes fluttered closed, his mind going only God-knows where. Castiel simply leaned back, his eyes glazing over.

"So," Aziraphale said quite suddenly. Cas jerked out of his thoughts and sat up rather violently. "Tell me about yours."