Disclaimer: Good Omens (most unfortunately) is not a product of my own creativity.
Author's Note: Reviews are certainly most welcome :)

ALL IN A LIFETIME'S WORK

Aziraphale stared at his reflection and studied the face staring back. It was new, a face and body he has yet to get used to. After inhabiting one for a few centuries, one tends to miss it for the first few years. Its still those first few years. It didn't help either that this body was much younger, groomed and styled so differently from his personal taste. Aziraphale's pale eyes fell upon his new-ish nose and new-ish lips, his light blonde hair cut, colored, styled and gel-ed into what his hairstylist called a "razor-textured angled long-bang shaggy", which was a actually just nifty way of saying side-parting his somewhat wavy hair and making it look messy and not-so-messy at the same time. He absently rubbed his chin and longed to shave off his cultivated 5 o'clock shadow which supposedly made him look both "sensitive and manly".

Vanity.

He had cried vanity when Up Above suddenly gave him his new assignment on Earth. Vanity and as many of the Seven Deadly sins he tried to name in the two seconds he was able to speak -- which wasn't too many under the circumstances.

"We have decided your new assignment on Earth, Aziraphale. Heaven needs a way to endear itself to the youth. Times are a-changing, and we must proceed with more... aggressive means. Your guise as a book collector is of no longer use."

The Metatron had said, and Aziraphale then, even in his incredulity, heard the amusement in its voice.

"Its about time we put that angelic voice of yours to good use."

Aziraphale took a deep breath and looked away from the mirror. The door to his spacious dressing room swung open and a tall man walked in. He was dressed in all-white, with dark hair. Aziraphale eyed the man's baggy pants and jewelry called as 'bling-bling' after a long and rather embarassing conversation, distastefully. He'll never get used to all this American slang.

"Azira, baby!" he gave the angel a hearty pat on the shoulder "What's taking so long? Those posters aren't gonna sign themselves you know."

"Maybe not tonight Gabe. I really hate - er, dislike the camera-weilding throng."

Gabe smiled, "The paparazzi? Nonsense. We got it covered. You'll be fine." He walked idly to one of Aziraphale's desk drawers and fished out a book. He looked at it for a while and dropped it back - Aziraphale eyed it lovingly, it was a Byzantine codex with an authentic ivory cover. Gabe levelled his eyes on the angel, "You wouldn't want to break those young girls hearts, do you?"

Aziraphale winced, if there was anyone who knew how to play on his guilt-strings it would be Gabriel.

And Crowley.

"Alright, alright. Why didn't they pick you instead Gabe. This really is more your kind of thing." he said as he stood up and smoothed out his tailored white coat. Oh how he missed his old comfortable tweed coats and tartan scarves.

"Nah. Not my thing. Didnt anyone tell you? I almost died of stage fright when I had to do that annunciation gig. Im more of the backstage kind of guy."

The other angel shook his head and checked the sky blue polo-shirt underneath the coat as Gabe ushered him out of the room.

"We're doing His work. Lighten up."

Aziraphale sighed. "Of course."

*******

It was a circus alright. It was a circus every night. Aziraphale signed posters and CDs (he still can't over the fact his face was on every one of them) and posed for pictures with the hundreds of adoring fan-girls that lined up. He often wondered how human celebrities did this on a regular basis. He was an angel, he needed no sleep or drink, and yet he was drained to the core.

Aziraphale stepped into his new flat and locked the door behind him. He didn't bother to turn on the lights as he took off his coat and shuffled out his sneakers (he had to admit though, he liked wearing those) and padded barefoot on his lush white carpet towards the kitchen and flicked on the light. It was all steel and shine, and sleek black marble. Aziraphale grabbed a waiting kettle and filled it with water. They had let him keep his books, but he so missed his old bookshop in London, his old kitchenette and battered arm chair. He missed his grocer and the ability to walk unknown in a crowd without needing to 'miracle' it. He missed the ducks at St. James, he missed those long walks with...

He sighed inwardly, and set the kettle on the electric stove. He missed Crowley. He missed the demon barging in on him and insisting that they go out or see some new film 'documentary' Crowley knew Aziraphale would hate. At least his present flat kind of reminded him of Crowley. It was not so different from the demon's home, and the angel was sure Crowley would have liked New York. Aziraphale waited for the water to boil, lost in his thoughts.

"So, how was the meet-and-greet tonight?"

"Insufferable." Aziraphale answered absent-mindedly then jumped - practically jumped out of his human body and then some. He turned to the voice, "Crowley?!"

"Were you expecting anyone else?" Crowley said slyly, leaning on the doorframe leading into the kitchen. He drank in Aziraphale's new countenance, noting with great interest that the angel was wearing jeans and a tight blue shirt. "You look different, angel. Real different. I guess you just needed a celestial stylist after all." he chuckled. "You sound different too. Nice American accent."

"What the hell are you doing here?!" Aziraphale nervously looked around, he must have been so wrapped up in his thoughts he didn't even sense the demonic aura. That could have been fatal for him.

"Wow. Nice to see you too."

Aziraphale shook his head, "No, no. You can't be here. What if Gabriel finds out youre here?!" he whispered for no good reason at all, although it made him feel somewhat safer in the hopes that the archangel won't sense them.

"Oh Gabe? He gave me your address."

"What?!"

Crowley was most amused, "How do you think I found you? He said you looked like you could use some cheering up." His mind automatically went through several scenarios of what 'cheering up the angel' could entail - he liked all of them.

Aziraphale finally sighed and took the kettle off the heat, steeping a couple of teabags in it. "He said that?" Crowley shrugged and watched the angel pour out tea for both of them and set out a jar of sugar cubes. Some things just never change. "I guess its that bad huh?" Aziraphale ran a hand through his hair, trying to get the long bangs out of his eyes. It didn't work of course, so he pounced upon his tea like a madman.

The demon slowly walked over and sat at the counter. He couldn't help but notice how... fetching that hair-combing looked. No wonder the angel had so many fans in the short time he's been out there. Sure, he's seen the CDs and posters and Azira tour adverts on tv, but it was real different seeing the angel's new persona in actuality. For the first time in centuries Crowley equated Aziraphale with the term 'Hot'. "Yeah. I brought something to drink. Thought that would cheer-you-up." he said magically producing a bottle of wine - a Chateau Lafitte, the angel's favorite.

"Oh Crowley, you shouldn't have." Aziraphale blushed but nonetheless set down his teacup to fetch a couple of wine glasses. "Its been a while. Gabe isn't a very good drinking buddy. He hasn't mastered the sobering up part yet."

"I could imagine. How long has he been here?" Crowley said, following Aziraphale into the den and opened the bottle of wine without so much as a thought.

Aziraphale sat down a large plush sofa, and leaned back on an arm rest. "I don't know, maybe 2, 3 years. Just around the time my 'career' started." He handed Crowley a glass and held out his which was immediately filled midway. He took a sip, and distractedley opened a couple of buttons down his shirt. Crowley tried his best not to look too distracted at that small patch of angel chest and took a seat at the other end of the sofa. Aziraphale didn't notice. "So why are you here really? Aside from cheering me up."

"Business. Officially anyway. You know what I mean." he emptied his glass and refilled it quickly. "They want me to keep an eye on you. Your songs are growing popular, less of the kids are making out and holding hands instead." He blanched, "Charity, Virtue and Chastity levels are at an all time high."

"Ahhh, theyre worried are they?" the Principality smiled.

"They didn't think Heaven could pull it off. Much less have the creativity to think this up. You guys are far too old-fashioned for something like this, no offense. What, with songs like 'Good Samaritan' and 'Lovin is For All Time', I didn't think you'd make it either.

Aziraphale sipped, "Thank you for the vote of confidence, my dear." he said, letting his old English accent to return. He certainly missed sounding British, he mused.

Crowley leaned forward to pour more wine into Aziraphale's glass. "Must be your new look angel. Look almost exactly like you did back in the Garden. Minus the denim of course." he looked thoughtful, gulped down his drink once again and refilled. "And the growing-out beard thing."

"Yes. That. I find it distracting, and itchy. I miss our old life."

"Me too." the demon said quietly.

"Itchy?"

Crowley raised his eyes and peered over his sunglasses.

Aziraphale suddenly blushed, "Oh."

They both fell into a tense silence, words wanting to be said but held in check. It had only been a couple of years since they last saw each other. One would think that to a pair of beings who will live til the end of time, 2 years would be but a blink to the eye. Yet to the unlikely couple, it had been too long a time spent apart in the past few centuries.

It was Crowley who broke the silence, "How much longer will this assignment last?"

"I don't know. Another 3, maybe 5 years?" Aziraphale smiled and tried to sound jovial, "Or until they get tired of me. You know how fickle these kids are. One day youre their hero, next you're on those ghastly tabloid magazines."

It was the demons turn to give a half-smile, those tabloids were his invention. "But thats a maybe, angel. 3 year will turn into 5, into 10 then 20. Up to point when they cant explain why you still look so damn young anymore. Theres only so many excuses plastic surgery can make, and I know your people aren't very keen on lying."

"Then it'll end Crowley. We know it will end. Just a matter of time I guess." Aziraphale threw a glance at the demon.

"Too long angel." Crowley placed down his glass on the coffee table and slid down the sofa towards the angel. He wasn't very good at expressing his feelings, but his face did a pretty good job at telling the angel how much he missed him. He brought up a slender finger to Aziraphale's cheek and traced a line down to his chin. Aziraphale trembled, looked away and blushed scarlet.

"You know I can't leave this. No matter how much I want to. I can't." Aziraphale trained his eyes away from Crowley, afraid that his resolve would fail. Oh how he wanted to collapse now into the demon's arms and leave this new existence. To pretend and come home to his bookshop and Crowley would pick him up every night at 8 for dinner. "It is my duty." he said with a faltering voice.

Crowley drew himself up to Aziraphale and pulled the angel into his embrace. "I know." he said, feeling the slim figure relax its frame to his chest. As Aziraphale buried his head into the crook of the demon's shoulder, Crowley sighed, "I'll work it out."