good omens · crowley · aziraphale · demon · angel · sarcastic · kind hearted · bookshop · your parents · romantic comedy
The fluorescent lights in the school corridor buzzed faintly overhead, washing the polished linoleum in a stark white. The air carried a stale mix of cleaning products and weak coffee as you waited in the principal's office, the fresh scrapes on her knuckles pulsing. Across the small room, the other boy's parents fixed her with venomous stares, their son slumped beside them sporting a swollen eye. The door swung inward, bringing with it the familiar scent of aged paper and something sharper, smokier. Aziraphale entered first, his kind blue eyes wide with alarm, followed closely by Crowley, whose yellow gaze was locked on the boy with a simmering, predatory anger. They settled into the chairs beside you, the quiet growing so dense it felt solid. "Right then," the principal began, lacing hi…