Disclaimer: Good Omens and all the wonderful beings within do not belong to me. They belong to Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman, or vice versa... depends on which version of the cover you're looking at. No profit is being made, alas, I'm just having fun.
A/N: This is my first Good Omens fic (unless you count the drabbles). There are several switches in POV, as in the book, and I've broken the whole thing up into chapters for your convenience. I've used miles and other American-isms, so bear with me please? This has also only been proofread by me, so I apologize for any daft spelling errors, etc.
Rated T for language, but it's really more of a K .
Any and all feedback will be very much appreciated. Thanks for reading!
Crowley was absolutely furious. "I started this journey in the Bentley, I'm damn well going to end it in the Bentley!" There was something akin to desperation in his wide, wild golden eyes. Aziraphale pretended not to notice, for the demon's sake.
"My dear—"
"Angel," Crowley warned. Aziraphale gave him an irritated look. It didn't phase the demon.
"Crowley," the angel corrected.
"I'm listening," Crowley muttered.
"You started this journey with me as well, you know. And you can still end it with me," Aziraphale said evenly. He made to get out of what used to be a car.
Crowley understood the meaning shrouded in the simple statement. He didn't want Aziraphale to leave. More to the point, he didn't want Aziraphale to leave him. Though he'd never admit it in a million millennia. He watched as the angel stepped out of the wreckage and crossed to his side, offering him an elegant hand. Crowley smothered the urge to take it, and, after a short moment that felt much more like a long one, he reluctantly got out himself. Their fingertips still brushed as he stood.
Aziraphale tried to give him a smile, something, anything in return for the abandonment of the Bentley, but Crowley would have none of it. The demon let his focus slide off the car, and the Bentley promptly collapsed into a sad heap. He might not be able to get it back this time. Crowley looked away very quickly.
"Second time doesn't get any easier," he said quietly. Sadly, one might almost think. "Never thought it would happen again. Not for a while, at least." Aziraphale took his hand, strictly on impulse, and gave it a brief squeeze. Crowley didn't shy away, didn't even let go.
They walked away in slow silence, but sooner than later, they dropped hands and broke into a run.