Preface
Like Real People Do
Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at /works/48928846.
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: M/M Fandom: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Good Omens (TV) Relationship: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens) Character: Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale (Good Omens) Additional Tags: Fluff and Angst, Second Kiss, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Idiots in Love, One Shot, Hurt Crowley (Good Omens), Hurt Aziraphale (Good Omens), Happy Ending, POV Aziraphale (Good Omens), Fix-It, Miscommunication, Kinda, they're just dumb and gay, Love Confessions, Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Good Omens Season 2 Spoilers, Good Omens (TV) Season 2 Fix-It Language: English Stats: Published: 2023-07-28 Words: 2,874 Chapters: 1/1 Like Real People Do
by charlottatozier
Summary
"I have to go," Aziraphale said promptly, not looking back as Metatron yelled after him.
He listened to the way his yells grew further and further away as he rushed across the road, careful not to get hit by an oncoming car.
That would have been a very anticlimactic end, plus it would have been a lot of paperwork.
"Oh, dear," Aziraphale muttered to himself as he came to a stop in front of the Bentley.
Crowley stared at him from behind his dark shades, not saying a word.
Or: Aziraphale goes back to Crowley. (Major Good Omens season 2 spoilers)
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
Like Real People Do
'I could not ask you where you came from
I could not ask you, neither could you.
Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips
We could just kiss like real people do.'
-Like Real People Do, by Hozier
Aziraphale approached the elevator to Heaven, eyes squinting against the angelic light, his head spinning.
He was distantly aware that Metatron was in front of him, staring at him expectantly as he held out the door, waiting for him to step inside.
Aziraphale could see his lips moving, saying something no doubt very important, yet his mind refused to catch up with him and let him process the words, instead replaying the feeling of soft lips pressed against his.
Shakily he brought a hand up to his lips, touching the spot where Crowley had kissed him just moments prior.
It had all happened so fast. So very fast.
He'd been happy, delighted at the prospect of going to Heaven and taking up the mantle of the archangel. He could fix things, change them for the better, help humanity, and ensure nothing like Armageddon would ever happen again. Though if he was being entirely honest (which he reluctantly had to admit he struggled with) he'd been elated at the prospect of being able to spend time with Crowley, not having to fear the wrath of Heaven or Hell ruining the fragile existence they'd carefully carved out for themselves.
Crowley would have been brought back into God's grace and he could have done anything he wanted. He could have made more stars, filling up the galaxy with his beautiful creations with a smile on his face.
Aziraphale remembered how beautiful he'd looked when they'd first met, a soft smile adorning his then angelic features as he stared out at the galaxy in front of them, the twinkling stars and exploding nebulas playing in his striking eyes. He'd been practically shining with pride, watching the labors of his love and work shimmering in front of them.
Look at you, you're gorgeous.
Aziraphale remembered how badly he'd wanted that look directed at him.
He hadn't seen him after that, only later discovering that the angel whose name he'd never managed to catch had fallen into a pool of boiling sulfur.
He'd felt partially guilty, after all, he hadn't stopped the angel from asking the All-mighty questions.
When he'd finally met him again at the gate of the Garden of Eden, he'd offered up a wing to shelter him from the rain, as he had once offered him shelter from the falling stars.
Aziraphale brought his hand down to his side, pushing away the memory as he let the world catch back up with him.
"Shall we go then? We haven't got eternity now have we?" Metatron asked, clearly fed up with waiting.
Aziraphale pointedly ignored the pure irony of that sentence. He was supposed to have eternity.
"Yes, quite," Aziraphale said, glancing between the elevator and the bookshop. His beloved bookshop. The one he'd owned since 1800.
His eyes widened as he spotted Crowley leaning against his car, staring right at him, his red hair shimmering in the warm evening sun.
It wasn't a dark and stormy night but it certainly felt like it should have been one.
For Heaven's sake, none of this was supposed to happen. They were supposed to go to the Ritz, dine like normal, and revel in each other's company. Crowley was supposed to order champagne, and Aziraphale was meant to drink one too many, blaming the soft look in his eyes and fleeting touches on the alcohol.
He was supposed to selfishly steal whatever small touch or look he could get from the demon for his own selfish needs, all the while making sure not to reveal too much.
This was all wrong.
Crowley's words rang out in his head, playing on a loop like a broken record.
That's the point. No nightingales.
Unconsciously Aziraphale found his hand snaking its way back up to brush against his mouth, the feeling of soft lips kissing him lingering underneath his fingertips, threatening to make his head spin more than any amount of alcohol ever could.
Crowley stared at him, face unreadable, dark shades covering those brilliant eyes of his. The eyes Aziraphale had found himself thinking about on countless occasions, wishing that he'd ditch those shades of his.
"Aziraphale," Metatron said from behind him, foot tapping impatiently against the floor of the elevator.
"I-" Aziraphale said, eyes still fixed on Crowley in the distance. Brilliant, lovely Crowley who had miracled his books back for him. Crowley who'd stuck by his side through thick and thin. The person who he could trust his life with, time and time again.
You could always rely on me. We're a team, a group. Group of the two of us. And we've spent our whole existence pretending that we aren't.
"I have to go," Aziraphale said promptly, not looking back as Metatron yelled after him.
He listened to the way his yells grew further and further away as he rushed across the road, careful not to get hit by an oncoming car.
That would have been a very anticlimactic end, plus it would have been a lot of paperwork.
"Oh, dear," Aziraphale muttered to himself as he came to a stop in front of the Bentley.
Crowley stared at him from behind his dark shades, not saying a word.
Please don't hate me, he thought to himself, as he stared at the demon in front of him, words failing him. He hadn't really thought this through.
Aziraphale had never seen him this quiet. He looked stiff, all hard lines like he expected to get punched. And wasn't that just terrible? He'd done that.
This close Aziraphale could swear he saw a small hint of fear behind those dark shades of his. The one's that he'd worn for what must have been a millennia.
"Crowley-" Aziraphale said, not sure what to say as he stared down at his shoes.
He had so many questions on the tip of his tongue, threatening to all come out at once.
Why don't you want to come with me?
Why don't you want to be an angel?
Do you hate me?
Why did you kiss me?
He stared at his tartan socks, the socks Crowley had gifted him sometime after they'd stopped Armageddon. When Aziraphale had asked what the occasion had been Crowley had simply looked away and mumbled something incomprehensible under his breath.
Aziraphale hadn't asked, instead smiling warmly as he'd thanked him.
The socks had quickly become his favorite pair.
Crowley did that a lot. Bring him small gifts now and then, never elaborating why.
Distantly Aziraphale thought that it all made a little bit more sense now.
"Well, spit it out then," Crowley said, voice cold.
His voice had lost all its warmth, leaving him harsh and guarded.
The last time Aziraphale could remember him acting like this had been back in 1967 after he'd given him the thermos of holy water.
He felt sick to his stomach.
"I don't understand," Aziraphale said weakly, his voice breaking on the syllables.
"I don't think there's much to understand, angel. I said my dues and you said yours. Nothing lasts forever," Crowley said, echoing Aziraphale's words from earlier.
Aziraphale cringed, finally looking up at him.
"Why don't you want to become an angel?"
Why don't you want to come with me? He wanted to say.
He could see Crowley's jaw clench, his carefully constructed mask slipping just the tiniest amount.
He sighed, looking away, a pained expression on his face, "I told you, angel. Heaven isn't any better than Hell. I was cast away for a reason."
"Well, yes but you could be an angel again! You could continue to create more stars, be happy-"
"I'm perfectly happy as I am now," Crowley cut him off, mask finally slipping to reveal the pained expression on his face.
He took off his glasses, hand shooting up to rub at his eyes that were shining with unshed tears.
A feeling of guilt twisted deep in his gut.
He had to fix this. He could fix this.
"Please join me," Aziraphale begged, hands shaking.
He felt like screaming. He wanted to get down on his knees and beg him not to leave. He didn't want to be alone. He couldn't be.
"I wanted to enjoy the life we carved out for ourselves, angel," Crowley said, voice edging on desperate.
Aziraphale didn't say anything, staring at the way Crowley shook like one of his house plants.
He wanted desperately to grab him and tell him that everything would be alright. That he wanted them to be a team. For them to be us. He wanted to admit that he'd maybe wanted that for longer than he could really remember.
"Crowley-"
"I thought that we were on our side!" Crowley said frustrated, eyes glimmering as tears threatened to fall down his cheeks. "We wouldn't have to be lonely when we had each other," he added quietly, looking away like he'd said something shameful.
Aziraphale's mind reeled back to them sitting side by side, making sure to leave a large gap between them as they sat watching the waves crashing against the shore, the air warm as the water glimmered against the soft sunlight.
That sounds- um-
Lonely?
Yeah.
But you said it wasn't?
I'm a demon. I lied.
He clenched his hands at the memory.
Crowley deserved so much. He was so good and he had no idea.
That's why he'd been ecstatic at the prospect of Crowley becoming an angel again. Being a demon seemed to cause him so much pain. All he wanted was for him to regain that dazzling smile he'd witnessed back on their first meeting.
Aziraphale found himself wanting to kiss him. To take hold of his lapels and draw him close. To do it right this time, showing just how much he cared. He wanted to make him know just how brilliant he was. How loved he was.
"Crowley, listen I-" Aziraphale started.
"Don't," he said looking away, voice harsh.
"But-"
"I never expected you to love me back. Trust me I've come to terms with that years ago," Crowley muttered, looking away.
Aziraphale could feel hot tears he hadn't noticed pooling in his eyes starting to steadily stream down his warm cheeks.
"You… You love me?" Aziraphale asked weakly.
"Yes! Bloody yes! Did you really not gather that from what I said earlier? Or the sodding kiss?" Crowley asked, exasperated.
Dazedly Aziraphale noted that he looked embarrassed.
"You love me," Aziraphale repeated, processing the words.
His mind replayed the way Crowley would stare at him when he thought Aziraphale wasn't looking, or the way he'd begged him to go off together to Alpha Centauri, or the countless other small gestures over the years that had kept him up at night, mind racing a mile a minute as he tried to desperately distract himself with whatever novel he was reading at the time.
"Of course, I do angel. I have for a long time," Crowley said weakly, his voice no louder than a whisper.
The tears that had been shimmering against his brilliant eyes, finally dropped, quietly making their way down his face.
Aziraphale had never seen him cry.
"Oh, dear," Aziraphale said, cupping his cheek.
Crowley didn't stop him as he leaned into the touch, closing his eyes, refusing to look at him.
"Is it because I'm a demon?" Crowley asked weakly, arms trembling beside him.
Aziraphale could feel his heart breaking in his chest. How could he think that? How could he ever think that Aziraphale didn't love him just as he was?
"No, dear. Not at all," Aziraphale said as he finally pulled him into a kiss, one hand cupping his cheek, while the other snaked its way around his waist.
Crowley gasped into the kiss, quickly pulling him closer by the lapels like it was the only thing keeping him grounded to the Earth.
Aziraphale smiled into the kiss, chest fluttering as he marveled at the feeling of Crowley's lips pressed against his for the second time.
This kiss was slower and far more tender than the first. It was less rushed with both of them taking their time to revel in the feeling.
Aziraphale could see why humans liked kissing so much. It was a marvel that such a simple gesture could make you feel so loved.
They slowly parted, foreheads pressed together as they breathed the same air, lips inches apart.
Aziraphale found himself never wanting to lean away.
"I love you too. Have for a long time," Aziraphale whispered, voice soft.
Crowley pulled away, staring at him, mouth agape.
Aziraphale smiled ruefully, heart racing at having that brilliant gaze filled with so much love finally directed at him.
"You love me?" Crowley asked dumbly.
"Well, yes. I supposed the kiss should have made that obvious," Aziraphale said, voice teasing.
Crowley shook his head, a small smile adorning his face, "You're a smartass you know that, right?"
Aziraphale grinned at him, heart hammering in his chest.
"You know you could have said that from the start instead of putting me through the wringer like that," Crowley said, before squinting at the socks Aziraphale was wearing. "Are those the socks I got you?"
Aziraphale flushed, "Ah, well yes. They go well with everything and I happen to rather like them-"
"Shut up," Crowley muttered as he stole a chaste kiss.
Aziraphale stared at him with a small, fond smile.
"I'm going to need some time to get used to that," he muttered, face warm.
Crowley laughed, looking away.
His eyes narrowed as he stared at where the elevator up to Heaven had been just moments ago.
"Did he leave?" he asked, glaring at the doors like they'd personally offended him.
"I suppose he did," Aziraphale muttered.
"You're not going with him? To become an archangel and all that?" Crowley asked, voice quiet like he was afraid that after all of this, Aziraphale would still leave him.
"No, my dear. It's not worth it without you by my side."
Crowley looked at him, eyes soft.
He looked so incredibly fragile.
"No?"
"No," Aziraphale shook his head.
"I thought you might have wanted to become an angel again. Build all the stars and nebulas to your heart's desire," Aziraphale admitted.
Crowley shook his head, "Those times are behind me. I'm not the person I was back then."
"You know we met once," Aziraphale said promptly.
Crowley looked at him curiously, shaking his head, "No?"
"Yes! You showed me the galaxy you were working on, we watched the stars," Aziraphale admitted ruefully.
Crowley shook his head, a pained look on his face, "I don't remember that."
"It's alright, my dear," Aziraphale smiled kindly as he took him by the hand. "We can watch the stars from down here, can't we?"
Crowley flushed, looking away, nodding his head.
Aziraphale smiled at him, "They're brilliant. You know that right?"
"They don't look as good from down here, light pollution and all that," Crowley said, cheeks still warm.
"Maybe we'll go look at them closer someday then. We have time," Aziraphale said, stroking his thumb along the back of Crowley's hand, reveling at the touch.
"I'd like that," Crowley admitted, squeezing his hand.
"Well then, let's go inside, shall we? I think we've caused enough of a scene," Aziraphale said, realizing with embarrassment that they were in public.
He spotted Nina outside her shop cleaning a table, a small smile on her face as she watched the two of them.
He gave her a quick nod before turning away.
"Doesn't Muriel run the shop now?" Crowley pointed out, thumb tracing soft patterns into the skin of Aziraphale's hand.
"Oh, yes. Forgot about that," Aziraphale muttered. "I'll explain and get them somewhere else to stay. We'll have it all sorted before you can say George Robinson!"
"Jack Robinson," Crowley corrected, a small, amused smile on his face.
"Ah, yes," Aziraphale agreed, nodding. He had no idea who Jack Robinson was. Must have been someone famous, he thought distantly.
Casting a brief glance at the Bentley parked by the curb, he noticed the multitude of plants scattered across the back seat.
He frowned, wondering how Crowley had been living in it with the limited room and no doubt stifling air. He shuddered at the thought.
Crowley started pulling them towards the shop, a soft, content smile on his face.
Aziraphale hesitated, pulling them to a stop.
"What is it, angel?" Crowley asked, staring at the way he was rocking anxiously on the balls of his feet.
"...Dear, if you like you could start staying with me in the shop? I'm not sure if living in a car is particularly comfortable and-"
Crowley interrupted him before he could properly start rambling, softly squeezing him by the hand, a small fond smile on his face, "I'd love to angel."
"Right,"Aziraphale nodded as he pulled them towards the shop, head still spinning.
There would be time for apologies later. For now, they could simply revel in each other's company.
Whatever would come next, they'd face it together.
Afterword
End Notes
These two idiots made me sad so I had to take matters into my own hands. :")
If we don't get season 3 I'm actually gonna go berserk.
Also, I spelled Aziraphale's name wrong in numerous different ways while writing this. It was honestly impressive.
I apologize for any spelling mistakes and such I wrote this in a haze.
Any and all comments are greatly appreciated! 3 :)
Please drop by the archive and comment to let the author know if you enjoyed their work!