A new chapter! Hope you'll enjoy.

Good Omens and all characters related are property of Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman.

Chapter 7

Morning after

What she finds more unnerving is how much she has come to trust the enemy's agent in the few months of their association. She doesn't trust easily, it's just not in her nature. However, there's a certain… affinity with Crowley that makes it so easy to trust him…

Which is a very stupid thing to do, that's for certain.

However, here she is, after 10 months of meetings, waking up with an awful headache, sprawled on Crowley's bed, with him firmly pressed against her side. She has never, not even once, gotten drunk with Michel (or, God forbid, James) and yet… here she is.

She groans and tries to sit up. Crowley protests and his grip on her waist tightens, but Aziraphale barely notices. She looks around the room, taking into account the state of her surroundings. There are a couple of glasses on the night table, half filled. The bed is messy, with the sheets tangled around their feet. Her sweater is missing and also most of Crowley's clothes (actually, he's only wearing his boxers), but she's wearing enough clothes to feel confident that nothing else happened. That's good: worse than waking up next to her enemy, would be waking up next to the enemy, after having had sex with him.

She got out of bed, after wrestling with Crowley's arms wrapped around her middle. He's surprisingly strong for someone so thin, especially considering he's asleep. She remembers fragments of the night before: she remembers him on top of her, pinning her to the couch and her pulse quickens. She also remembers pushing him off; basically straddling him and her trying to play it cool afterwards.

This is bad. So bad.

She picks up her purse and fishes out her phone. No missed calls, no texts. Good thing last night she had enough presence of mind to think of sending Michel a text, letting him know she was fine, but tired and that she wouldn't go back to the office.

She wondered how long she could keep up with this. This was no longer a business relationship. There was something deeper growing between her and Crowley, but she didn't know what. She didn't want to know either. It was far too scary.

She went to the kitchen, trying to hunt down something to eat. Her mouth had an awful taste and she was thirsty. She opened the fridge and found a carton of milk. An open carton of milk that smelled funny. She made a face and throw it out.

Well, she better find her sweater and go get something to eat. Crowley didn't seem inclined to leave bed anytime soon and she was hungry. Sighing, she took Crowley's keys that were lying on top of the kitchen table, found her sweater lying underneath the couch (she didn't want to know how it had ended there) and went out.

She would come back later, after she had some coffee. And some headache pills.

When she comes back, Crowley is still asleep. Aziraphale rolls her eyes and sits on the edge of the bed, gazing down at her "enemy". He looks even more handsome now; it should be illegal to be this handsome. She has woken up with her fair share of attractive men, but she has never found herself so mesmerized by someone. She sighs. This is so messy…

She thinks of calling her fiancé and asking if he would like to go out for lunch. She knows she won't do it; James would suspect she has done something she's feeling guilty about. He won't confront her, of course, but he'll know something is up. And she doesn't want that. Besides, she hardly did anything…

She was just drinking out with her enemy. Still, it's not like she cheated or something…

She's many things, but a cheater she isn't. However, this… closeness she shares with Crowley feels a bit like cheating. Only it's worse, because they're not supposed to even like each other. And yet…

"Morning sleeping beauty" she quips, nudging him gently, in an effort to stop thinking about her ever growing attraction. Crowley groans and rolls around, his back at her. Aziraphale rolls her eyes and places the coffee cup she has brought with her on the nightstand "I'll just leave this here, then. I'm going to take a shower"

She picks up her purse and goes to the bathroom. She undresses calmly, while the water heatens and tries to clear up her mind. Everything is so confusing… She shouldn't have gone home with Crowley. She shouldn't have drink as much as she had. She shouldn't be feeling half of the things she was feeling, but…

She hears the apartment door being open. She tenses immediately. What's going on? Did Crowley lure her into a trap? Are there enemy agents standing outside, ready to abduct her?

She forces herself to calm down. She's being paranoid. If Crowley was trying to lure her into a trap, he wouldn't have gotten so drunk. Besides, the would-be-abductors would have arrived earlier. She wouldn't have been able to go out, get some coffee and come back to the apartment.

This must be an unscheduled meeting- because Crowley wouldn't have gotten so drunk if he knew he was going to have visitors the next day (or so she thinks). Still, she supposes it won't do if his bosses or associates find her here.

Sighing, Aziraphale finishes showering. She'll have to improvise. She steps out of the shower and hunts for the "disguise" she always carries on her purse. She's glad she's always prepared for emergencies, regardless of how silly is to carry around all the stuff she carries around (or so Michel says)

She starts dressing. When she's finished, she looks at herself in the mirror and smiles.

Perfect. She's unrecognizable.

Crowley is happily asleep when someone hits him with a pillow. He groans and sits up, glaring at his attacker. Then he takes notice of his surroundings and tries to suppress the feeling of dread clawing its way across his back. Hastur and Ligur are standing next to his bed, Aziraphale's and his glass are still on the night table and there's no sign of his "enemy" anywhere near.

"Ah… hi guys. Fancy meeting you here, at this ungodly hour…"

"It's 11 in the morning, Crawly" Hastur argues, making Crowley glare. He hates when they call him that, but he suspects that's the reason Hastur does it "we needed to see you"

"Ah, well…"

"We were expecting you last night" Ligur continues, his tone low and dangerous "as always, you failed to come back to the office after your meeting"

"Ah, well, the thing is…"

They're interrupted by the sound of the bathroom's door opening. Crowley glances at it apprehensively and then stares at the person standing at the threshold confusedly. Who's this woman?

"Well, sweetheart, I was beginning to worry" she says, an ironic smiling playing on her lips "I was worried I was a little too rough on you last night"

"Ah… I… what…?"

"My, my, Crowley. So this is what you were doing last night?" Hastur asks, leering at the pretty brunette standing in front of them. The woman smiles pleasantly "You could have told us. You should be more… sharing"

Crowley makes a face, thinking that the last thing he would ever do is share a female companion with his bosses but… well, some people in Hell are seriously messed up.

"That would increase my rate" the female argues amicably "So; can I have my money now, Mr. Crowley?"

"I… what?" he asks, his brain still half asleep and unable to process what's going on in his apartment.

"It'll be £300, please" she continues, still smiling.

"What?!"

"I did explain you my rates last night, Mr. Crowley"

"I don't even remember a thing"

"Not my problem you were drunk, Mr. Crowley" she argues, a playful smirk on her lips "come on, pay up"

He glares but stands up to retrieve his wallet. Hastur and Ligur are still leering at the pretty brunette, but she ignores them. Crowley offers her the money and when she tries to take it, he holds it back "For this amount of money, don't I get at least a goodbye kiss?"

Aziraphale glares at him and he smirks. Her "green" eyes sparkle with fury, but finally she concedes "Alright. One kiss"

He steps closer and places his hands around her waist. She's still glaring at him, but he doesn't feel slightly guilty. She got herself in this mess. She should have tried to find other meanings of escape, that didn't involve posing as a whore (an anyway, where did she find that disguise?)

Her lips are as soft as they look and she surprises him by the enthusiasm she puts in the kiss. She's quite skilled at it too and he finds himself carving for more. He pulls her closer and she doesn't protest. She opens her mouth and lets his tongue explore it.

It's over all too soon.

"Thank you, Mr. Crowley" she states, taking his money and placing it on her purse "gentlemen" she continues, nodding her head as she walks toward the door. Ligur and Hastur are still staring at her lasciviously, but she either doesn't notice or pretends not to.

Crowley can't really think straight.

That was one hell of a kiss.

Aziraphale hurries out of the building and walks into the first restaurant she finds. She locks herself into the restroom and proceeds to take off her disguise.

She takes of her brunette wig and runs her fingers through her short blond hair. She manages to take off her green contacts without the help of a mirror and takes off her tight fitting dress, her high heels, her push up bra and her corset.

She redresses with her big sweater and her horrendous jeans. She always feels ridiculous wearing her disguise, but she admits it's very practical. Men don't tend to look at your face when they're too busy staring at your rack.

She places a hand over her lips. That kiss… god, why did she do it? She must have been feeling suicidal or something… It's Crowley's fault, really. He should have seen the precarious situation she was in (that they were in, actually) and make it easy for her. Then again, maybe she shouldn't have asked for such high amount of money…

She smiles and looks at the bills Crowley handed her. She supposes she'll have to get him something; giving the money back just doesn't seem right. Perhaps a nice bottle of wine that they could share…

Better stop right there. She can't do this again. From now on, no more personal topics would be discussed, there'd be no more drinking and definitely no more kissing.

She just hope she'll be strong enough to fight temptation.

So… what did you think? I'm a little confused with the tenses, my English grammar has gotten worse over the years… Any mistakes you find, feel free to point them out.

Thanks for reading. Comments, anyone? Pretty please?