One Last Go-Around
Fandom: Good Omens (TV)
Characters: Aziraphale/Crowley
AO3 link: One Last Go-Around - Shipaholic - Good Omens (TV) [Archive of Our Own]
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This is my post-S3 fic. Spoilers for the entire show.
In the moment of dissolution, a starscape bloomed behind Aziraphale’s eyes. A field of familiar nebulas, swirling like paint, comets streaming past like fireflies. To his right, a presence, not-yet loved, oh-so-familiar, lifting a wing over Aziraphale’s head as a flaming ball of rock spun towards them…
And at the same time, he hefted a sword as it burst into magnesium-bright flame, and a burning pair of eyes bore through his as he threw the weapon aside and stooped to staunch the luminous blood flowing from an angel’s wound…
The sun beat upon his head upon the wall of Eden while a beautiful, sharp smile flashed at him
Rain spattered his face and turned the dirt underfoot to mud as he watched that clever, changeable face twist into shock at the cruelty of it all
Lightning bolts arced and revolved around a dumb-struck good man, while to his left someone mumbled but just to be able to ask the question…
Another good man wept and forgave while his wrists were nailed down, and Crowley was there,
Fog and dampness and some kind of porridge, and Crowley was there
Beautiful words washing over a non-existent audience, except for him, and Crowley was there
Fresh corpse-soup in a pickled herring barrel, and that wicked mouth pursing into a comical tut-tut-tut, and Crowley was there
And years streamed by like nebulas, flashing their colours and wreathing around him like showers of stars
Every moment in Aziraphale’s long history, all the ones worth keeping, Crowley was there.
To the world
Glass met glass in a ting
…And for a moment, it stopped.
Aziraphale stared at Crowley across the table. A cold bead of condensation slipped down his thumb.
Crowley’s smile faltered when Aziraphale didn’t speak. “Not saying it back, angel?”
Aziraphale swallowed heavily. “To the world,” he whispered, fiercely. He would always mean it, always say it.
Crowley was staring at him now, lowering his glass to the table. “Angel, you’re crying -”
And then it hit him too. Aziraphale saw the shadow pass over his face. The food and drink vanished from the table. Around them, the restaurant had already gone dark. Their table glowed white in a tiny pool of light.
“I think this is all we get,” Aziraphale whispered. He squeezed his eyes closed and felt the tears burn a course down his cheeks.
Crowley took a shuddering breath and slumped back. His cheeks puffed as he let the breath out again in a long hiss.
“D’you think she’s letting us have this? One last go-around of the good times?”
“Perhaps our lives are flashing before our eyes,” Aziraphale said with a tear-filled laugh.
“Ah. That’s nice. I hope everyone else got the same.”
Crowley tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling, before bringing his eyes back to Aziraphale. He twitched his dark glasses off his face and dropped them on the table, where they vanished.
“We chose right, you know. Only way this could have gone.”
“Oh I know. I know.” Aziraphale seized Crowley’s hand across the table.
“No point in sticking around after the lights are off and the chairs are up on the tables.”
“No world without humanity.” Aziraphale stroked Crowley’s hand with his thumb. His throat was thick. “I love that you chose them,” he blurted.
Crowley’s beautiful eyes were full. He scrubbed a hand over his face, which mostly just smeared the wetness around. “You too.” He gave a sudden laugh, with a creak of tears in it. “You know how much I loved you, too?”
“Oh, Crowley. Of course.” Aziraphale knew he must look an absolute mess. He made no attempt to wipe it away. “I loved you so much. Always.”
Their pool of light gave a flicker.
“Nearly time to move on,” Aziraphale said.
“Let’s get on with the highlight reel.” Crowley pushed his chair back. He was still holding Aziraphale’s hand.
“Do you think… if we had said how we felt, the first time we were here…?”
Crowley gave another puff of breath. “Maybe. Maybe we would have been happy for a couple of years. Wouldn't it only have made it harder, though? In the end?”
“I can’t imagine anything being harder,” Aziraphale choked out. "Or - or more worthwhile."
This time, Crowley let the tears spill openly over his sharp cheekbones. He stepped towards Aziraphale, into the same space. All the warm, lanky, living demon of him, for a long last look.
Aziraphale let himself be held. Then he let himself be kissed.
The kiss ran for a long, long time.
The memories resumed their spool, after a while. Aziraphale and Crowley swayed and kissed softly, in the shell of the Ritz, until the lights finally went out.


















