anyway i'm on my good omens shit and they were the first thing that came to mind. they being aziraphale and crowley. like. come on. i'm sure this is already a fic out there with this title, i haven't ventured yet. i just think they're neat and obviously crowley's up my alley for the pov. and this took a lot longer than expected because i rewatched the show again for ideas. oops. spoiler tagged but read with caution.
was there a word for what he was currently feeling? it felt more morose than anger but angrier than disappointment. it was one of those human emotions that they talk about in films, the sort of films he usually found boring and would stir up trouble in the cinema. he quite liked making a mess there.
people were so fascinating. with their reactions, with their, well, with their everything. there were words he knew—and he knew them well—that he could accurately describe what he liked about people. he just preferred not to list them. it kept him off track.
despite the speed, which he knew the car liked to go up to, crowley managed to weave in and out of the traffic with ease. the more he pressed on the gas, the faster the bentley went, the further he got away from that bookstore. not that it would be occupied by anyone anymore. whatever. he couldn't stay. he simply couldn't.
embarrassed. that's a word he felt. maybe. did demons feel embarrassed? they must. they must because what the fuck? they were supposed to be an us.
driving will help. queen will help. if there was anyone in the whole of creation who would get crowley through this mess of whatever was in his head, it would be freddie fucking mercury. but even as he placed a cd into the player, hearing one song start before queen began, his thoughts drifted again to where he didn't want them to drift. the memory came to him in a warm flash, as they usually did, whenever aziraphale was concerned.
he couldn't ignore it anymore. a flood gate opened and now he was looking back on memories he once wished to dismiss with a certain sense of fondness.
