Hi! I'm a big fan of Good Omens and especially love the dynamic of Aziraphale and Crowley. I got this idea while on vacation so I wanted to share. I hope you enjoy!
Arizaphale walked into his bookstore to find Killer Queen playing unbearably loud from the record player. What must have been hundreds of books had been ripped out of their shelves and now adorned the floor, the tables, and even floated in mid air. And in the midst of it all was Crowley in a state of madness.
Ever since the events of Armageddon, Arizaphale's bookstore had become Arizaphale AND Crowley's bookstore, and Crowley's apartment had also become a shared space. Which was swell, Arizaphale kept telling himself. Just swell. But it was rather frustrating to enter what used to be a private space and see it ravaged by what used to be your forbidden friend. Of course, the two of them had become more than just friends since the event.
"What's wrong, my dear?" Aziraphale asked, a little scared to hear the answer.
"Everything is wrong!" Crowley exclaimed desperately, giving Aziraphale a peck on the cheek.
"Well what are you working on then?" Aziraphale looked questioningly at the mess of books and pieces of paper swirling around the former demon's head. Aziraphale snatched a piece of paper out of the air to find Crowley's messy handwriting scrawled across the page. Most of the words had been scribbled out and at the bottom was a drawing that displayed the artistic skills of a toddler. Some might have described it as a picture of hellhound if they squinted their eyes and held it up to the light for long enough.
"I'm writing an advertisement for hell," Crowley explained, grabbing the paper out of Aziraphale's hand and crumbling it up in his fist.
"Crowley! I am surprised at you! I thought you had given up your hellish ways."
"I have!" Crowley defended himself as he sauntered over to the love seat. "I'm just bored, that's all. And everyone should get the chance to understand the advantages of an eternity in hell. Even if I don't support the people who work there doesn't mean I don't advocate for the organization as a whole."
Aziraphale walked primly over to the love seat and sat down beside Crowley, causing Crowley to throw his arm over Aziraphale's shoulder. "Well I think it's a lovely idea. May I read what you've written so far?"
"I suppose so. It's not finished yet though. If you really wanted to, you could read my most recent draft."
"Splendid!"
Crowley stretched out his hand and a slightly ripped piece of paper floated into Crowley's hand on cue. Reluctantly, Crowley handed the paper over to Aziraphale's eager hands.
"Remember, it's still not finished -" Crowley started, but was interrupted.
"Yes, yes, I shall remember," Aziraphale assured, and then began to read.
"Do you want to spend your life on what counts instead of spending it on what's "good?" Do you find being a decent human being boring? Are you able to endure a great amount of pain for a very long time? Then an eternety in hell might be for you! Hell gives you all the benefits of life without having to spend time worrying about making it to heaven. With the promise of hell, you can do whatever you want, including but not limited to being an asshole. Now you can procrastinate on the consequences and be the human you've always wanted to be.
Remember - heaven comes at a price, but hell is free! You'll just have to pay the price later.
Call Crowley for more information."
At the bottom of the page was another childish drawing of a hellhound, this one slightly improved from the first drawing Aziraphale had seen.
"What do you think?" Crowley demanded.
"Well, you spelled eternity wrong. It has an i before the t-y instead of an e."
Crowley ripped the paper out of Aziraphale's hand, grabbed a pencil, blacked out the word "eternety," and scrippled the correctly spelled "eternity" directly above the fresh black mark on the page.
"What else?"
Aziraphale sighed. "I liked it. I really did. But it's a little...well, it's a little messy."
Crowley stared at Aziraphale confused. "What's wrong with 'messy'? Messy is good. Messy is eye-catching. Messy might just be what converts people to the side of hell."
"I suppose so. I'd just format it so it's a little easier to understand, that's all. It's going to be hard for people to believe in hell rather than heaven, so this ad has to be really good."
"Ha! Most people have already given up on heaven! If anything the public needs more advertisements for heaven, not hell."
Crowley watched in horror as Aziraphale's eyes lit up with that unmistakable sparkle - the sparkle that meant that Aziraphale had an idea. Usually this certain sparkle meant that bad things were to come.
"No, no, no, no, no! Do not suggest what I think you are going to suggest," Crowley shouted.
"I should make an advertisement that makes people believe in heaven again!" Aziraphale declared, completely ignoring Crowley.
"Ugggh," Crowley sighed dramatically.
"Crowley, thank you so much, you have given me an amazing idea. I'm going to the apartment to start writing. You clean up here until I get back."
Aziraphale gave Crowley a quick kiss and rushed out of the apartment, leaving Crowley to sulk dramatically.
Aziraphale returned to the bookstore many hours later, during which time Crowley had cleaned up the bookstore and subsequently undid all of his cleaning.
"I did clean up the bookstore! I swear!" Crowley insisted after Aziraphale questioned him on the matter.
"Then why is it so much a mess?"
"It turns out messing up the room is a lot easier than cleaning it up.
Aziraphale sighed, trying to hide his laughter. "No matter. I suppose it'll take a miracle to clean this mess up."
And just like that, the room was meticulously clean.
"Nice one," Crowley commented.
"Don't think I'm happy about this," Aziraphale scolded, but once Crowley's back was turned, a secret smile slid onto Aziraphale's face.
"Well now it's my turn to read your ad." Crowley outstretched his hand.
"I'm not so sure that's a good idea," Arizaphale said insecurely. He looked like he wanted to disappear into thin air.
"And why would that be?"
"It turns out it's much…harder than you would think it would be to write an ad."
"You don't have anything, do you?" Crowley asked flatly.
"No I don't!" Arizaphale whined, "I tried so hard but I couldn't think of anything to write. Well, I suppose that's not entirely true. I have a total of 17 drafts."
"17 you say?"
"Don't push it. They're not very good."
"Well I want to read these 17 drafts."
"All of them?"
"Yes, all of them. I would read thousands of not-good heaven advertisements for you. And I don't like good things, so I'm assuming I'm going to enjoy these quite a bit."
Aziraphale sighed, still hesitant to hand over the ads. Finally, after an unbearably long stare from Crowley, a pad of paper was miracled into Crowley's hands.
"You can read all of them if you want, but I put a star next to the draft that I think is my best work," Aziraphale noted.
Crowley admired the 17 pieces of thick, cream-colored paper. Not one wrinkle could be found on the page. The words were meticulously written in cursive with expensive ink, showing off Aziraphale's extensive calligraphy ability. They were a stark contrast from Crowley's messy work. The hell ads were full of chaos and clutter, while the heaven ads didn't have an ink-blot out of place.
Flipping through the pages, Crowley found the star on the 12th page and decided to read that draft first.
"Dearest humans. You deserve to have a good life and an even better afterlife. I, Aziraphale, shall help you to reach the salvation you have always wished for.
Hell will never be for you, but heaven can be.
Thank you."
Crowley looked up from the paper with a scowl.
"You don't like it?" Aziraphale asked.
"Why did you sign it with the words 'thank you'?"
"They took all that time out of their day to read my ad, I was trying to be polite."
"Well it was certainly polite."
"Why thank you," Aziraphale beamed, "Go on now, read the other 16 pages."
By the time he was finished, Crowley could understand why the 12th draft was Aziraphale's favorite. Despite the finished and clean appearance of the pages, all other drafts ended in the middle of sentences. Crowley's personal favorite was the 5th paper that ended on the words "Being a bad person may seem like a good option." Of course, Aziraphale had intended to add an end to that sentence explaining that being a bad person isn't actually a good option, but Crowley liked to imagine that the sentence was always supposed to end at that spot. Aziraphale rolled his eyes as Crowley tried to persuade him to show the 5th paper to the public.
"Out of the question. The only thing I will display is the 12th one, and that's final."
Crowley sighed aggressively. "Fine. Where should we hang up our ads then?"
"What?"
"Where are we going to display what we've written? I think there's a bulletin board at the local 24-hour café."
"You never said anything about hanging them up so soon."
"Well what did you think we were going to do with them? Make them into paper airplanes?" Crowley inquired sarcastically.
"Actually, paper airplanes sound like great fun," Aziraphale said naively, "Maybe we should ask Adam to teach us how to make them."
"No! We are not commissioning the son of Satan to teach us how to make paper airplanes."
"FORMER son of Satan," Aziraphale clarified, stressing the word "former."
"Whatever," Crowley grumbled
"And to answer your question, I just want to take some more time to refine my work. I really feel that I can write a better advertisement for heaven."
"I don't know, this is probably about the best you're going to do, considering the other 16 drafts," Aziraphale rolled his eyes as Crowley continued, "And I don't think you have much of a choice now."
"What do you mean?"
"While you were talking, I stopped time briefly, just briefly enough for me to take both of our ads and hang them up at the coffee shop down the street. I was right - they do have a bulletin board!"
"Crowley! I -"
Aziraphale was trying to be angry with Crowley. After all, Crowley had just betrayed Aziraphale's trust and had placed Aziraphale's personal work on display for the public to examine and scrutinize. But his love for Crowley was getting in the way, and all he could manage to do was fight against the smile creeping onto his face. Eventually, his anger was completely washed away by the adoration flowing from his heart.
"Fine," Aziraphale finally said as his capability of speech came back to him, "Let's go see where you put up these advertisements.
Crowley grabbed Aziraphale's hand and the two exited the bookstore together, hand in hand.
"Why didn't you just miracle the two of us to the café?" Crowley asked as the demon and the angel approached the coffee shop.
"I didn't want to alarm the customers. Who knows how people would react if they saw us suddenly appear in the middle of their dinner," After a moment's hesitation, Aziraphale continued, "Plus, there's no harm in a star-lit walk with your boyfriend."
Pink crept onto Crowley's cheeks, but he didn't respond. Instead, he reached for the door handle and held the door for Aziraphale to walk inside to the cozy café.
Even Crowley had to admit that the walk had been lovely, although he would never say so out loud. Crowley preferred grand gestures and speaking through actions rather than words in their relationship. Simply talking about love had never really been Crowley's strong suit, so Aziraphale learned to take comfort in Crowley's silent indications of affection.
The two made their way over to the bulletin board, where Crowley had indeed pinned up their ads. The two papers had been placed over other assorted advertisements already on the bulletin board so that Crowley's and Aziraphale's posters were front and center. Aziraphale couldn't help but notice that Crowley had placed Aziraphale's advertisement slightly in front of his own.
"Lovely job," Aziraphale told Crowley, "Let's sit down and have some coffee. That way we can see if anyone notices our advertisements."
The two walked up to the counter to order. Crowley looked up at the menu written on the chalkboard, his eyes filled with disgust beneath his sunglasses. Meanwhile, Aziraphale admired the various drink options as if each held the gift of immortality.
"What do you want?" Aziraphale asked Crowley.
"Does anything contain alcohol here?" Crowley interrogated, "What's the point of a drink without alcohol?"
The teenage barista behind the counter took notice of Crowley's comment and stared at the former demon with a mixture of fear and confusion.
"Take no notice of him," Aziraphale addressed the barista and then turned his attention back to Crowley, "No, there's no alcohol here. But there's plenty of coffee and tea that you can get."
Crowley groaned. "Fine. I'll try something other than alcohol."
"I think we are ready!" Aziraphale called to the barista, who approached them cautiously. Their wary eyes scanned Crowley, as if searching for danger. Crowley, meanwhile, regarded them with boredom.
"I will have an iced lavender latte please," Aziraphale ordered.
"Anything else?" the barista asked.
"Yes," Crowley said, taking no note of the visible disappointment on the barista's face, "I'll get a cup of tea with 9 sugars."
"9 sugars?" the barista questioned incredulously.
"That's what I said."
Aziraphale laughed nervously. "That will be all, dear. How much will I be paying?"
After paying for and receiving their drinks, Aziraphale and Crowley walked over to a set of armchairs by the window and sat down, watching the drizzly rainfall outside. Crowley explained to Aziraphale that Witchfinder Sergeant Shadwell drank a cup of tea with 9 sugars frequently, so Crowley had decided to try it. However, Crowley spat out the sweet tea as soon as he took a sip, running to the trash can to throw the drink out. The barista rolled their eyes behind the counter.
Crowley and Aziraphale remained at the café for many hours, only returning home when the pink sunset reflected off of Crowley's sunglasses. The two convinced themselves the reason they stayed so long was to see if anyone would approach their advertisements. Of course, each secretly knew that they stayed because they enjoyed the good company and the good coffee. Or, in Crowley's case, repulsive tea.
The two routinely met at the café after that, staying for at least an hour each day. After the first week, Crowley finally found a drink that he actually enjoyed, and he refused to order anything other than the blackest of black coffees thereafter. Crowley described the drink as "the same shade of black as his soul." After two weeks, Crowley and Aziraphale found out that the barista's name was Arlo and they used they/them pronouns. The two ended up inadvertently adopting Arlo after learning that their parents were homophobic and transphobic. Another week went by, and Crowley and Aziraphale began to be referred to as "regulars" at the café, much to Crowley's annoyance. Aziraphale, meanwhile, was proud of the new title.
Finally, after four weeks, the pair arrived at the café to find that their advertisements had been completely taken off the bulletin board and replaced by a glossy poster that promoted a pair of skateboards. Crowley ripped the imposter advertisement away from the bulletin board in revenge while Aziraphale made his way to the counter and inquired after the missing papers.
"Oh, those were gone before I arrived this afternoon for my shift. Someone must have taken them down this morning," Arlo explained, "I'm sorry I don't know anything else."
"That's quite alright," Aziraphale reassured. "We'll have our usuals, please."
The two sat down in their regular spot with their regular order, but this time there were no advertisements rooting them to the café. They could go anywhere they wanted now! The two could get coffee at another café, or go out for some alcohol for Crowley. But the two decided to remain seated, at least for today.
"What are we going to do now?" Aziraphale asked, "Do we want to make new advertisements?"
"Too much work," Crowley complained.
"Well, does that mean we have to stop coming here?"
Crowley shook his head decisively. "No! This is our place. We don't have heaven or hell to return to anymore. This has become our new haven. And I'm not so ready to give that up yet. Even if it means not getting to drink as much alcohol"
"Good," Aziraphale smiled, "I like that."
And so, the two sat sipping their coffee. Happy to have found a sanctuary where the two could share each other's company.
