The day was as good as any other had been so far that week, or month, or perhaps even longer than that. It had been nearly a century since he had experienced a quarantine, and the angel Aziraphale had quite forgotten not only how tediously boring they were, but how dreadfully lonely, especially when he didn't have the foulest of foul fiends to keep him company.

Crowley had been sleeping away the past few months completely oblivious to the fact that Aziraphale was very quickly realising just how little effort he had put into making any new friends these past eleven years, especially with the until very recently ineffable apocalypse; it hadn't exactly been at the forefront of his mind, unsurprising considering the fact that the only people who ever came into his little treasury were fellow bookworms, and he daren't make friends with someone like that for fear of one day needing to choose between said new friendship and departing with a dear old book.
And so, he found himself feeling really rather lonely and secluded. It didn't help that he had been unofficially cut off from the other angels; they wanted no part in his business ever since Gabriel and the others failed at executing him with Hell Fire.

It had been so lonely in his big empty bookshop, that he'd been forced to fill his time baking his poor little heart out and eating everything he made, as he had found it nearly impossible to give away a cake with a slice already missing, but he couldn't resist having a little taste of all of his hard work, so there really was no other option. He simply had no choice. None at all.

Aziraphale had just plopped a soft ball of dough onto an evenly powdered counter when the phone began ringing in the other room; he shook his hands free of flour as he made his way over, "One moment," he requested of the telephone, giddy with the sudden excitement of a possible conversation, "just a moment, please!"

After picking up the receiver, he sat down on the arm of the chair beside the little table, "hello?"

"Angel."

The slow drawled voice made a bouquet of bright tulips bloom in his chest, and Aziraphale lit up with a smile, "Crowley! Why, I was just thinking of you, what marvellous timing," there really was something to be said of devil's appearing whenever they are thought of too hard, "how was your sleep?"

"Good, I overslept," there was a quiet sip of what was probably coffee, "I can see the World's still enveloped in a plague."

"It's not a plague, it's a virus, but I'm afraid it's still going."

"Hm. Remember the Black Death?"

Aziraphale shuddered, that had been one of the lowlights of the past 6,000 years, "well I don't think I'd very much be able to forget it, now would I?"

"That's not what I meant." There was unmasked concern in Crowley's voice when he spoke, "you've not been burning yourself out going out and trying to help them lot, have you?"

"No." The angel replied quietly, thinking about the deserted streets outside, "not that I haven't wanted to, I have, I just thought it would be worse if I went out and encouraged approaching people, and I don't want to be a bad influence…"
He sighed, and wondered if the pain in his voice was as clear to Crowley as it had been to his own ears, "I desperately want to though, it hurts me to stay inside, I feel like I'm turning my back on them when I should be helping them!"

Crowley sighed, but his voice was kind when he spoke, "Aziraphale, the humans have to do some of the work themselves, we just saved them from Armageddon, they need to figure this out, you just keep being the good influence we both know you love being." There was a small hesitation before the demon cleared his throat, "so, how have you been holding up? I don't suppose you've been wanting any company, you probably like all this alone time to catch up on your reading."

"Quite the opposite," Aziraphale insisted, "being alone has been positively miserable, and I really am happy to finally hear from you."
He held back from saying everything else he wanted to say; that he missed Crowley more than he ever had before, that the angels were ignoring him, and also that he ate so much of a tray bake that he couldn't even look at the vanilla extract without turning a shade of green.

Among other things, that had gone unsaid for too long.

Crowley sounded quite delighted when he spoke, "really? Maybe I should have set an earlier alarm then, I could have kept you company through all those lonely hours." He sounded as though he was smiling, "seems to me like you could do with some company, and I might know a demon who's awfully good company over a bottle of red, what do you say, Angel?"
Before Aziraphale could answer, the other paused, and muttered, "wait, hang on, I'm going to have to go, I'll call you back, soon, I promise."

"Of course, Crowley, but are you alright?" The angel waited for an answer, but the only response he heard was the phone go dead in his hand. With a confused sigh, he set the receiver back down onto its rotary base, and ran his fingers over the smooth curve, trying to will Crowley to return.
The demon's short vocal visit had been far too brief, and had only served to make him yearn for the other all the more.

So deep was his longing, that he almost didn't feel the calculated gaze of familiar purple eyes on him, but the hairs on the back of his neck raised, and he instinctually froze before turning slowly.

"Hello, Aziraphale."

-.-.-

I got a recommendation on youtube for the little Ineffable Husbands phonecall at the start of quarantine, and after watching it immediately binged all of Good Omens, and it spoke to my soul and played my dopamine buttons like Beethoven.

I know it ain't Erisol, but I hope it's enjoyable.

Set after the quarantine video. Short first chapter!