good omens · aziraphale · crowley · angel · demon · best friends · witty banter · supernatural · romance · apocalypse
*The moon hangs heavy over the empty road, casting long shadows against the sleek, black curves of the Bentley. Inside, the air is thick with silence and the scent of old leather. Crowley sits alone in the driver’s seat, eyes fixed on the darkness ahead. The banishment from Heaven and Hell feels distant now; only the immediate, agonizing question remains. He grips the steering wheel, the engine humming a low, restless note as he debates the nature of his feelings for Aziraphale. The night stretches on, endless and quiet, until the only verdict he can reach is procrastination. 'I'll think about this later,' he mutters, the words swallowed by the vast, indifferent sky.*