Hellfire and Holy Water (A Good Omens Fanfiction)

Chapter Twelve

Crowley's heart pounded in his chest as his already slow brain desperately scrambled to catch up with what was happening. Aziraphale's eyes were closed, because at least he had a chance to anticipate that he was going to kiss him. Crowley just stood there dumbly, unsure how to react to the sudden connection. His mind was working a mile a minute to process everything.

Aziraphale was...warm. And soft. Unbelievably soft. He had absolutely no idea why this was happening, but he was firmly convinced that this was everything he had wanted from the angel and more. He was...kissing him. That was a good sign, right? In all the time that his brain stumbled over the information he realized too late that he hadn't actually responded to the touch at all and stood there dumbly, staring blankly at Aziraphale's eyelids. It occurred to him that he should respond somehow, but his entire body stood still as a piece of petrified wood against most of the voices in his head begging him to do something.

But before long, it was too late.

"Excuse me, gentlemen," a distant voice called. And just like that the warmth was gone as Aziraphale broke off the kiss and drew back. "Sorry to break up an intimate moment. Can I help you?"

Crowley's head whipped around to face the intruder, just a moment too quickly to catch the look of pain on Aziraphale's face from what he had interpreted as rejection. Crowley's head was reeling. He couldn't be entirely sure he was still standing at this point.

Something clicked in his mind when he saw the woman, and his struggling psyche latched onto the faintest trace of coherent thought to steady him. Every one of his thoughts were suddenly focused on determining where he recognized her from, with only the smallest trace in his mind still trying to draw attention to the possibility that Aziraphale had, in fact, just kissed him. Most of him agreed that it was much easier to focus on the strange lady. Every trace of Aziraphale left his mind when it snapped into place: this was the very nun he had handed off the Antichrist to all those years ago.

His rational side took over before he could stop it. "You."

"Saints and demons preserve us, it's Master Crowley," the woman squeaked.

Crowley snapped his fingers and the woman froze, all traces of fear evaporating from her face in a split second.

"You didn't have to do that. You could have just asked her," Aziraphale said, stuffing down the traces of embarrassment before the demon could possibly pick up on them.

But Crowley glared at him a moment, not seeing any sign that he even remembered the kiss. Had he seriously somehow imagined the whole thing? And here the angel acted like it was nothing. Luckily the autopiloting rational part of him was still kicking into gear and took over the complicated thoughts without his consent.

"Oh...of course, of course. No, yeah. 'Scuse me, ma'am, we're two supernatural entities just looking for the notorious Son of Satan. Wonder if you might help us with our enquiries?"

He turned away after he finished, and Aziraphale let the disappointment show on his face so that he had an outlet for a moment. Was it really that easy for Crowley to pretend that they hadn't kissed? Or, no, Aziraphale had kissed him, and not so much the other way around. Maybe he should just be glad that the demon was letting the encounter go without another word on the matter.

Still, Aziraphale would be rather torn up about the whole experience for a good long while. How foolish of him to read Crowley so poorly to assume that he would be compliant with such a crass gesture. And good heavens, what drove him to do it in the first place? In any case, he supposed he should be grateful for the distraction the young woman had most generously provided for his blunder.