Disclaimer: I own very little.

A/N: This is a response to the New Year's Resolutions 2005 challenge, in response to clarity's request "Crowley/Aziraphale, please. Anything goes."

This is my first Good Omens fic ever, so please don't be too harsh. It also turned out kind of weird, I guess...

Flee Or Fall
The door of a dusty bookshop in Soho was pushed open. "Oi, angel!" called out a voice. "You here?" A young man walked into the shop. He looked very out of place with his black clothes, leather jacket, and the shades covering his eyes. Yet, at the same time, he looked like he had always belonged just there.

"Wherever else might I be, my dear?" answered a well-educated voice coming from the back room. A moment later the owner of the voice came to sight. He was just as much unlike the younger man as his shop was. His clothes were old-fashioned although comfortable, his hair in slight disarray, a pair of tiny reading glasses perched on top of his nose. He was carrying a thick, old book with him.

The young man smirked. "Why the glasses, angel?" he queried. "It's not like you need them. Although I have to admit, they do fit your style. Just as out-of-date as the rest of you." And just as cute,' he thought to himself, although he was careful not to say it aloud. Some things were best left just secrets.

"Was that really necessary?" the older man asked with a frown, although amusement sparkled in his blue eyes, showing that he wasn't really insulted. It had been a long time since his companion had last managed to truly insult him; they already knew each other well enough to know when the other was serious.

"Yes, it was," the younger man replied with a broad grin. "Come on, Az," he then said. "You haven't set a foot out of this old dusty shop for days. It's well about the time you go out. It's time to go for a dinner, angel. My treat, okay?" He tossed a pair of car keys into the air, then caught them again.

"What exactly are you planning?" asked the man called Az suspiciously. "Confess up. What are you after? It's definitely not like you to try to be this nice." He did, however, set the book down.

"Oh, you hurt my feelings," said the other man, smirking. "How do you know that I can't be nice every once in a while, too? After all, I've hung around you long enough for you to rub off on me."

The older man snorted. "You can be nice occasionally, fair enough," he said. "It's just that when you are nice, Crowley, you're usually after something. I'd like to know in advance what it is."

"Really, Aziraphale," Crowley replied, sounding exasperated. "Just how many times have I treated you for a dinner, or the other way around? What's so special about this time?"

"Your grin, that's what," replied Aziraphale dryly, taking the glasses off his face and putting them into his pocket. "You only grin like that when you want something from me. Otherwise, you just smirk."

For a moment Crowley felt disappointed about the disappearance of the glasses, at least until he decided that he preferred the blue eyes unguarded. He was so busy with watching that he at first didn't even register that the angel had moved, at least not until Aziraphale was right on his side. "W-what?" he stammered.

"Well, you wanted to take me for a dinner, right?" The angel raised an eyebrow at him. "I suppose I won't find out what you're after unless I play along. So, are we going or not?"

Still a bit stunned -- a feeling he didn't like one bit -- the demon then led his companion to his car. As he let the old Bentley drive itself, chatting lightly with the angel, he thought about his feelings for him.

Oh, they were enemies, fair enough. But when the enemy is the only one who's hung around for the last six millennia, you certainly get used to them. Nowadays, Crowley would go as far as to claim to be friends with the angel. Aziraphale, he was certain, had felt that way for a long time already. Angels just were that way, or at least this angel was. Lighthearted, friendly, optimistic -- and he was certainly rubbing off.

Okay, so he felt friendship towards Aziraphale. That wasn't so weird, considering their long history together. It wasn't like friendship was forbidden for demons, anyway -- it just wasn't a very clever idea to try to befriend a demon. Certainly it wasn't forbidden for a demon to befriend an angel, either; the mere idea was so unlikely that nobody had ever even thought of forbidding it. Still, somehow, he could admit that he called Aziraphale a friend, the only one he had had during his whole existence.

One might think that, forbidden or not, a feeling such as friendship would be impossible for a demon. However, angels were definitely not unfamiliar to it, and that aspect made this possible. Crowley was, after all, closer to an angel than any other demon. Or, rather, closer to the angel -- namely Aziraphale.

And that brought forth the real problem. It wasn't a problem that Aziraphale was his friend, no. Neither of them could get trouble for it. After all, if either side had found out about it, like they most probably had, they just thought they were having a good (or bad, depending on how you view it) influence on each other. So friendship wasn't what bothered him -- it was the fact that he wanted it to be more than friendship.

The mere thought scared Crowley. And, at the same time, it fascinated him. After all, he was a demon, and no sin was unfamiliar to him, least of all lust. He knew all about lust. Therefore, when he first found himself watching a tad too long how the angel's rosy lips curled when he smiled or his hips moved when he walked, he knew exactly what he was feeling. That was not a problem, at least not as long as he remembered to keep his body genderless. If he had made an effort to actually be male, of course, it would have made a problem only to be solved by a long, cold shower. What came after lust was what scared him.

It came slowly at first. From time to time he found himself admiring the way a couple of golden locks always seemed to escape the angel's ponytail and fell on his face. Then he became fascinated by the blue eyes, how they sparkled or veiled over, always reflecting Aziraphale's feelings like they truly had been windows into his soul. All this he thought to be just a part of the lust he had for the angel and ignored it. But then one day the angel dropped one of his precious books onto the floor. When he then bent down to get it and Crowley found himself admiring the way the angel's hair was all messed up rather than his admittably nice arse the demon realized that he was feeling something else, too. Something completely and utterly undemonic, something that he didn't even dare to admit to himself.

"Err... Crowley?" Aziraphale's voice broke into his thoughts. "Is something the matter? You've just sat there without saying anything for a while now. ...Crowley? Hey, Crowley?"

"What? Oh, yes. Sorry. I was just in my thoughts." They made their way into the restaurant, the Angel giving him weird looks. Crowley tried to ignore them, but didn't really manage.

The dinner was the most awkward occasion they'd been engaged in for a time longer than neither remembered. It was like Crowley's previous arrogance and easiness had been simply wiped off, which in turn made Aziraphale uneasy. There was no much of a conversation; Crowley was too deep in thought and Aziraphale too confused about his friend's sudden mood swing to really talk.

When they had both eaten, Crowley rose abruptly. "Let's go for a walk," he suggested. Aziraphale, still confused, agreed, following the demon out of the restaurant and towards the nearby park.

When they were standing in front of the duck pond, just like usually, the angel finally got enough of his friend's weird behaviour. "Okay, what is it, Crowley?" he asked. "Something is clearly bothering you. It's like you became a wholly different person on the way from my shop to the restaurant."

The demon drew a deep breath. "I think I have to go away for some time," he said. As the angel looked questioning, he continued, "Like... like for a century. Or two. Yeah, that'd probably be enough."

"What?" Aziraphale looked very confused now, and slightly hurt, too. "Why'd you leave?"

Crowley fiddled with a lock of his raven hair. "Let's just say that something has come up," he muttered. "Something that won't leave me in peace, so I have to leave to get rid of it."

"Oh." The angel looked very thoughtful for a moment. Then he said, "Yeah, I think I could manage that."

"What?" Crowley was startled. "What do you think you could manage? What are you talking about?"

"Well, moving the bookshop, of course," Aziraphale replied, looking at him with a look of mild surprise. "Do you really think I'd let you go alone, especially if you're in trouble? I'm too used to having you around. There's really no other option but me following you, wherever you are going to go to."

"No!" exclaimed the darkhaired man -- well, the manlike creature. "That is... er..." He found himself actually flushing slightly under Aziraphale's surprised stare. "I meant, you really don't need to follow me, angel... and you don't want to, either. It might -- it might get a bit nasty. Yeah. That's it."

"The more help you need," the angel said, not taken aback by this. As he saw Crowley's expression, however, he frowned. "That's not it, is it, Crowley?" he asked then. "It is something about me, isn't it?" A hurt expression came to his face. "It's me you're trying to get rid of!"

Crowley cursed in his mind. Damn the angel and his intelligence. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but nothing came out. Instead, he just closed his mouth and lowered his gaze.

"Why do you want to get rid of me?" asked Aziraphale quietly. "What's so bad about me? You've managed to stand my more or less constant presence for the last six millennia. I thought we were friends by now. Why would you want to leave me now, after all this time?"

The demon sighed. Seemingly telling the truth was the only way to get through this. "I don't want you to Fall," he whispered. "You can't Fall because of me."

His voice was too low for any human to catch, but the angel heard it with no problems at all. "Why would I Fall because of you?" he asked, sounding confused. "Friendship is no sin, certainly."

"No, friendship isn't," admitted Crowley. "But something else might be." As the angel still didn't seem to understand, he sighed in frustration. "Oh, for G- Sa- whoever's sake!" he exclaimed, stepping forward. One hand drawing away his shades, the other landing on Aziraphale's shoulder, he pulled the surprised angel forward and pressed a firm kiss on his lips. Then, before the now shocked immortal could react, he stepped back and wished himself to be somewhere, anywhere else. And so, he was.

Crowley sighed as he looked down at the city that had been more or less his home for more years than he cared to count. He might or might not miss it, but that didn't matter. All that mattered was that he would most certainly miss Aziraphale, no matter how much he didn't want to admit that even to himself.

He wanted the angel, there was no doubt about that. Wanted him so badly that it hurt to even think about it. Like he sometimes managed to admit to himself in the darkness of night, maybe, just maybe, he even loved the angel. However, he knew that he could never act on his feelings. If Aziraphale didn't return his feelings, he could never get over it. And if he did... he might Fall. And that couldn't happen. Not ever.

Crowley himself hadn't really Fallen, rather drifted down. He'd never been too angelic to begin with, so it hadn't been such a fuss to him anyway. Aziraphale, however, was as angelic as they went, despite the influence humans and Crowley had had on him over the last six millennia. No matter how many times he surprised Crowley with his suspiciously human-like behaviour, with the little inner bastard he didn't even try to hide so much anymore, the angel loved Heaven, and loved the God. Just like any true angel would, Aziraphale would suffer unimaginable pain if he were torn apart from the holiness his powers came from. His heart would be broken, and that would break Crowley's heart, too. He couldn't allow that to happen.

At times he had nightmares about it, bad enough to scare him off sleeping for days, sometimes even a week or two. He dreamed of having the angel in his arms, so pure, so beautiful... and then seeing the painful grimace of a holy creature just cut apart from Heaven, seeing those blue eyes turn golden, those wonderful wings darkening into the shade of midnight. And hearing Aziraphale scream like only a Falling angel can, hear the cry of ultimate pain and agony cross the lips of the one he loved. And knowing it was his fault.

That was why he couldn't do anything about his feelings. It was a sin, and Aziraphale would Fall. Crowley didn't want him to Fall. He'd rather have him only as a friend than get his love and see his pain. He was perfectly content with just being close to the angel. Or, at least, he had been.

Lately, though, that had begun to change. His feelings had intensified, making it almost impossible to be apart from Aziraphale. He could no longer trust himself to be able to hold back, to not let his lust get better of him. Had it only been lust, he would have already given in, consequences be damned. However, his friendship and -- let's face it -- love for the angel stopped him. Now he feared that they might not be enough sometime. And that might lead to something he wasn't willing to even consider.

The only chance was to cut himself away from Aziraphale. Cut all connections with the angel, not telling him where he was going or whether he would come back. Maybe after a couple of centuries his feelings would have faded enough for him to return, although he doubted it. From the way his heart ached at the mere thought of being away from Aziraphale Crowley knew that he could never safely return.

The demon sighed, again looking down at the city that spread out in front of his eyes. Somewhere down there was the angel that had captured his heart. Yes, however tainted and demonic it might be, Crowley still had a heart -- or he would have, had it not been held in Aziraphale's well-manicured hands. Black wings rushed forward to cover their owner from the sight of the night, the last night he'd ever spend even this close to his beloved. At the same time, they also reminded Crowley of just what he was.

'You are a demon, Anthony J. Crowley,' he thought, 'you are a demon, and that's all you'll ever be. You never had a chance with him, and you knew it. There's no way such a creature of Light would ever want something as Dark as you are. Just give up, collect yourself, and leave.'

Yes. Leave. That was what he had planned to do, anyway. He wouldn't drive his Bentley, though -- if he had to give up Aziraphale, he would also give up his whole former life. Everything he owned reminded him of the angel. There was no way he could ever drive his car again without remembering all the times he had had the angel sitting there beside him. No, he would fly, every stroke of the black wings reminding him why he had to leave, to never again have anything to do with his angel.

Just as he stood up on the roof and spread his wings to get into the air, however, he heard the rustle of another pair of wings, wings too large to belong to a bird. He glanced to his side and saw Aziraphale. His first thought was to leave, leave why he still could, but something was holding him back.

For a moment the angel just stood there, watching him seriously with those incredibly blue eyes. He wasn't wearing a shirt, probably because it would have been torn anyway when he unfurled his wings. The bare chest, tempting as it might be, however, wasn't what interested Crowley most now. No, his eyes were again drawn to the angel's face, framed by the now free golden locks of wavy hair, the blue eyes shining with otherworldly light. Those eyes captured him, making him stand still even as the angel came closer.

"Love is no sin," Aziraphale said softly, reaching out a hand to caress the demon's cheek. "Not even love for a demon." And, with that, he slowly leant forward until their lips met in a soft kiss.

At first Crowley tensed a bit, honestly expecting to have to watch Aziraphale Fall in front of his eyes. However, when nothing odd seemed to happen, he allowed his hands to wander up and wrap around the angel's neck as he started to respond the kiss. A pair of white wings enveloped him in a warm, feathery embrace, closing the rest of the world out as they deepened the kiss.

It was truly a good thing, they both decided, that neither angels nor demons needed to breathe.

That morning Crowley woke up feeling safer and warmer than ever. At first he couldn't comprehend why this was. Then, however, he forced his eyes open to look around, and noticed the large, white wing that was covering him. Pure, pearly white, with no sign of being tainted.

In a rush the memories of the last night came back to him. Memories of coming to his apartment, not talking much, just heading for the bedroom. And then, later... Had he not been a demon, those memories would have made him blush. Aziraphale might be inexperienced, but he certainly made up in eagerness.

The white wing shifted a bit, brushing over him in a gentle caress. And then the wing was away and his eyes found another pair of eyes, these a deep blue unlike anything else he'd ever seen. The rosy mouth beneath those eyes curled into a loving, slightly teasing smile.

Aziraphale leant forward, brushing his lips over Crowley's. "It looks like I haven't Fallen yet, so I doubt it will happen because of you anyway," he said then happily. "I told you love is no sin, didn't I?"

"Well, if I am all about sin," Crowley replied, "then you certainly got a whole little devil inside you last night." As soon as the words had crossed his lips he regretted them. However, it was too late to pull them back now. Uh-oh. There was no way Aziraphale wouldn't get pissed.

However, to his great surprise, the angel just smiled. "Now, now," he purred. "I wouldn't call it that little." And before Crowley could get over his shock, the angel kissed him again.

As Aziraphale finally cut off the kiss, Crowley just stared at him for a while. Then, he smirked. "I knew you were just enough of a bastard to be worth liking," he said triumphantly.

"Or loving," replied the fair-haired immortal, smiling at him.

To that, Crowley couldn't say anything. So, he just nodded, and kissed the angel.

His angel.

A/N: Now, that was it. No more. Tell me what you thought about it, and remember, this is my first attempt on this particular fandom...