Disclaimer & crap: I don't own this! Good Omens and the characters within belong to gneil & pterry. NOT ME! Characters most certainly NOT used with permission, but hopefully, if you're either the authors or their lawyers, you won't get too terribly offended and try and sue me. You might get a few empty bottles of Sobe & half a set of prismas, but that's about all I own…
Get What You Want
In terms of being a demon, Crowley thought himself to be very good at it.(1) This included always getting what he wanted, in whatever manner possible, especially if it meant trampling on others to get it. Except, what he really wanted wasn't exactly a what. It was sort of a who, in the way that it resembled a body, a rather attractive one, if Crowley said so himself. (The problem with calling Aziraphale a who was that he wasn't technically a who, or a he, but rather a Heavenly Being, which was more of a what than a who. But he found this to be considerably aggravating and confusing to think of the angel in terms of a what, even if it did irritate Aziraphale.) Crowley knew tempting him was out of the question, simply because he honestly didn't want the angel to fall, no matter how hard he tried not to care. Still, this bothered him. He was a demon, for Somebody's sake, and a demon always got who or what they were after. He decided, after a night of drinking by himself at a local club, that this was entirely angel's fault. After all, Aziraphale had chosen the body that Crowley was lusting after. This brought up another problem, he discovered, after a few more drinks. He of course lusted after Aziraphale, that was what demons did. Sins of the Flesh and all that. But the more Crowley thought about it, the more he realized that there was something else he felt for the angel, something more potent than lust and slightly unnerving. Again, he blamed this strange, unnamed feeling on Aziraphale.
"Crowley, my dear, I think you've had too much to drink, you're babbling." Crowley stared at Aziraphale in confusion, why was he here? Didn't he come alone to the club?
"You asked me to go with you," Aziraphale answered for him. Where did the angel get that leather(2) jacket? He looked sexy in it. Crowley decided that perhaps he had better sober up, he didn't like not knowing what was going on.
"Anyway," the angel continued, "what is all my fault? You started rambling about whether I'm a Who or a What, then said something about getting What you want…"
Crowley blinked. Oh blast, he thought. I must have started thinking aloud. "…um…" he said intelligently, sobering up just enough to speak coherently.
"Come on, Crowley, explain yourself," 'Zira said with angelic patience.
"Um," he repeated, examining his immaculate nails. Oh bugger it, he thought. I'm a bloody demon; I'm getting what I want! He leaned over and kissed a rather surprised Aziraphale on the lips. "Demons," he explained. "Always get what they want."
Aziraphale smiled. "That's nice, my dear," he said airily, putting his hand on top of Crowley's. "Took you long enough."
1: Of course he thought that, among other things, demons were quite conceited.
2: but really it was pleather. Azi saw no point in wearing animal skin when there were substitutes.