A/N The product of boredom and a random word generator.

Disclaimer: If I owned them, I wouldn't have posted it here. I would have sold it. For money.

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Glide

It was the feel of the air he missed, the updrafts and spiralling winds that kept him in the air long after he should have fallen.

He loved it, watching the Earth below fly past at speeds nothing else could have matched.

The occasional beat of a wing that buoyed him upwards, sending him higher and higher, closer to home, never reaching and yet never regretting.

Yes, that was what he missed most of all.

There was something about being so completely and utterly free that had always enchanted him utterly. Nothing holding him up, nothing holding him down. Nothing on Earth could match it.

Yes, it was the thing he most regretted giving up. Of course, he still could - in abandoned places and spaces where humans rarely went, but it was never the same. He always knew that it had to end, that he'd have to bundle himself up once more and head back to the world, back to London, back home.

It was what he dreamed about on the rare occasions that he found his mind wandering.

Soaring. There was no joy like it.

"What on Earth are you thinking about?" Crowley snapped impatiently from the doorway of the Soho bookshop, but didn't wait for a response. "We have dinner plans, angel. Hurry up."

Aziraphale sighed and felt the vague remembrances he had of flying slip away as he looked up at the demon glaring at him, and smiled sadly.