#i saw with mine own eyes someone say aziraphale would have forced crowley to return to heaven if he could

[zaxal]

look at me. look me in the eyes.

at the bandstand crowley says "let's run away to alpha centauri together [implied: let earth be destroyed by armageddon and the great war, but at least We'll Be Together]"

and aziraphale says "i can fix this, i just have to talk to the right person, everything can go back to the way it was [implied: this is not ideal, but at least everything won't be destroyed, and if god steps in and says 'This Is Not The Plan, The Rest Of You Are Wrong And Aziraphale Is Right,' we won't be punished for stepping in.]"

and crowley says "well im going with or without you [implied: this is the end of our longstanding dynamic unless you change your mind]" and aziraphale says "ok, then go [implied: you no longer have obligations towards me, i don't expect you to save me this time.]"

they have this exact same conversation on the street, when aziraphale says "i forgive you." whatever happens next is not crowley's fault. he's willing to carry it all alone. he is SO prepared to do this that he's Shocked to find out crowley is still on earth after he's been discorporated.

and at the end of s2, we have crowley going "let's run away, we can be together, im willing to admit to the full breadth of what i want to have with you [implied: the earth will be destroyed]"

and aziraphale says, in more words, "we can fix this. you're right; talking isn't enough, we can take over, we can take action, AND we can be together. [implied: this is not ideal, but we can stop it, we can be together, we can Show them that we're right and there's a different choice they can make and if we're in a position of power, what could they do to us?]"

and crowley says "well i'm not going [implied: this is the end of our longstanding dynamic unless you change your mind]"

and aziraphale says "i forgive you [implied: you no longer have obligations towards me. i don't expect you to save me. whatever happens to me is not your fault. i'll carry everything alone.]"

it's the SAME conversation, and aziraphale is not the only one repeating the same lines and refusing to adjust his worldview to account for the changes in their relationship and the material realities of what their action or inaction would bring about.

they are both right. they are both wrong. they are both hurting because they never talked until there was 5 minutes left on the clock and not enough time to sort all of their shit out. there could have been a compromise; they didn't have enough time to reach it, so it's all desperation and emotions and discovering that, oh shit, we should've had a real conversation at some point in the last four years.

[ellenripleysbelieveitornot]

AcuteAngleAziraphale Fics

Finally got around to making a directory of my Good Omens fics, with links to AO3 and Tumblr (including a fic by fic breakdown of the Chicken Soup for the Ineffable Soul drabble collection.)  A few at the top, everything else under the cut, since there’s like, 50+ fics here. (sorted by most hits on AO3)

Your Lips Are Poison; Your Taste Is Divine (Explicit)

He was beautiful, but in a ‘don’t touch’ sort of way, like the apple he was famous for- freedom and banishment all wrapped into one tantalizing fruit. Unfortunately, Aziraphale had never been particularly good at resisting temptation. So, of course, it started with a touch.

AO3 only

Chicken Soup for the Ineffable Soul (Collection)

Threadbare Heart (Gen)

For the last ten or so years, Crowley has felt an odd sort of affinity with Aziraphale’s waistcoat.

Tumblr | AO3

Wanting (Gen)

Crowley was used to wanting. Answers from a god. A place to call home. For his love to be returned.

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Lucky (Gen)

“Angel,” Crowley said, draping his entire body across the desk where Aziraphale was reading. “Angel, let’s go somewhere.”

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Three Words (Gen)

Three words. Three simple, little words. That was all it took for Crowley's world to fall apart. "I'm in love," Azirphale had said, a soft smile gracing his lips.

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Free Fall (Gen)

Aziraphale fell in love slowly. That was probably for the best, since once he started, he just couldn't seem to stop.

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Anytime with You (Gen)

Aziraphale loved spending mornings with Crowley. He loved those early hours that he got to spend reading in bed with the demon curled up, asleep, by his side.

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Prayer (Gen)

Crowley is a prayer waiting to be answered, and Aziraphale is finally ready to let the hymns spill from his lips.

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To Love the Sky (Gen)

There once was an angel who loved the sky more than anything.

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Grace (Gen)

Crowley liked churches, and Aziraphale pretended that he didn’t know.

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Hymns (Gen)

Crowley sang hymns long forgotten to the choirs of heaven.

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I Choose You (Gen)

Some people believe in soul mates. Crowley was not one of those people.

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Unsaid (Gen)

Aziraphale could fill entire books with words he’s left unsaid. If he transcribed every utterance he’d bitten back on his tongue, he’d find that he had covered enough pages that he could line every bookshelf he owned. 

Tumblr | AO3

Giggly (Gen)

Aziraphale had a problem, and that problem wore skinny jeans and strutted around like he was more limb than substance.

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Flicker (Teen+)

“Crowley,” Aziraphale mumbled into the demon’s lips as they kissed. “You’re doing it again.”

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Bigger Than These Bones (Teenish)

Crowley was most definitely not human. That fact must be made abundantly clear.

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Get Your Ducks in a Row (Gen)

The angel paid him no mind as he stopped in the middle of the path and turned around, forcing Crowley to stop, too. “Crowley, please, would you mind explaining the ducklings?!”

Tumblr | AO3

A Sort of Wickedness (Teenish)

There’s a sort of wickedness to his smile, Crowley notices, and he wonders how he didn’t see it from the start. But that’s why they go together so well, isn’t it? Just as Crowley has a little of the light running through his veins, Aziraphale has just a lick of the dark, there below the surface.

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Not Made To Love (Gen)

Demons are not made to love. That is the only explanation Crowley can come up with for the way he feels ready to come apart at the seams. 

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Where Legends Are Born (Gen)

Crowley walked the streets of legend and saw the world unfold before him.

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Constellations (Gen)

Aziraphale had stars covering his skin.

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Paint the Sky (Teen)

Crowley used to paint. His brush was the cosmos and his canvas was the universe, infinite and vast. With just one stroke, he could bring the sky to life.

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I Love You (Gen)

It was unexpected, almost. Aziraphale wouldn't have thought it (though, that was more because he had never allowed himself to dwell on such things) but, despite all of Crowley's rough edges and walls he had built to protect himself from getting hurt, he loved incredibly freely and easily.

Tumblr | AO3

Made To Love (Gen)

Crowley was made to love Aziraphale, he was sure of it.

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The Truth (Gen)

Fic request: Crowley gushing to The Them about Aziraphale

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Harmony (Gen)

Crowley’s love was a hurricane; wild and all-consuming, it surged within him until there was room for little else.

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Stop Me If You’ve Heard This One Before (Gen)

Crowley relaxed even further into his lover’s lap and closed his eyes. “Can you tell me a story?”

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Eden (Gen)

They met for the first time in the garden, but not atop the outer wall, on the day of the first rain.

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Me-ow! (Gen)

“Oh, good lord- I’m jealous of a cat.”

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*bang*bang* Tartan Love! Whoa! (Gen)

It’s ridiculous, really, the things Crowley will do for love. Walk across consecrated ground. Run inside a burning building. Change the upholstery in his Bentley to bloody tartan.

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First Kisses (Gen)

The first time Aziraphale had leaned forward and closed the six thousand year long distance between them to kiss Crowley, he had made a strangled sound much like a giraffe choking on a twig and promptly fallen to the floor.

Tumblr | AO3

Call Me Angel (Gen)

Aziraphale still remembered the first time Crowley had called him ‘angel.’

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Warmth (Gen)

The lump of tartan blankets on the couch in the back room of Aziraphale’s shop appeared with the first snowfall after the apocalypse-that-wasn’t.

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Your Hand in Mine (Gen)

They held hands on the wall.

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Titus Anacondicus (Gen)

...and maybe Aziraphale had just confessed to six thousand years worth of longing to a snake that was not actually Crowley at all.

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An Absolute Angel (Gen)

In retrospect, Aziraphale probably could have avoided making an utter fool of himself if he had simply asked Crowley if they could meet up to compare disguises before making their way to the Dowling residence. As it was, he was lucky he didn’t blow the whole con by turning into a blushing mess during his job interview the moment Crowley stepped into kitchen as Nanny Ashtoreth.

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Companion (Gen)

Though he never talked about it, Aziraphale was ancient. One of the first angels.

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Sunrise (Gen)

[Aziraphale] had already filled this sky with his favorite colors (every shade of blue and the lightest yellows imaginable) but now the sunrise had him a bit stumped.

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He Loves You, Idiot (Gen)

If Crowley hadn't known any better, he would have thought that Aziraphale was in love with him.

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Treasure Beneath Gold (Gen)

Crowley, in the guise of Aziraphale, fidgeted nervously on the bench as he awaited the angel’s return from hell.

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Accidental Miracles (Gen)

It was too much. Aziraphale was in love and it was too much.

Tumblr | AO3

Forgiveness (Gen)

“Forgive me,” Aziraphale whispers as he presses his lips to tear tracked cheeks.

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He Knows (Gen)

‘I love you,’ Crowley says, not with words, but with his actions...

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All This Time (Gen)

Aziraphale has a husband. This is news to Crowley.

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Nothing Rhymes With Aziraphale (Gen)

Crowley took to writing when the moments without Aziraphale seemed to stretch into infinity. There was something about the repetitive scratch of the quill against the parchment that seemed to calm him; maybe it was just the way it seemed to drown out the part of him that had (unforgivably) learned to miss someone.

Tumblr | AO3

By Any Other Name (Gen)

Crowley wasn’t sure what exactly went wrong, but somehow, his lunch date with Aziraphale had ended with the angel acting like a complete nervous mess. OR the one where Crowley tries out various pet names.

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The Other Side of the Coin (Collection) (Role-Swap AU)

The Beginning (Gen)

An angel and a demon meet outside of Eden.

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Azra and the Antichrist (Gen)

Azra rides a bicycle and misplaces a baby. Raphael makes Gabriel drink coffee.

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On Being a Bastard (Teen)

The first time Raphael had called him ‘bastard’ Azra was, understandably, a little bit insulted.

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The Bentley (Gen)

"I still don't understand," Raphael said, as he maneuvered his Bentley at breakneck speed through the busy streets of London.

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From an Outside Perspective (Collection)

A Little Secret (Gen)

Brother Francis, during the course of his employment for the Dowlings, always seemed to be on the very cusp of being fired.

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Local Idiots Terrorize Ducks at St. James Park (Gen)

There was a small group of ducks at St. James park that were far more intelligent than any ducks had any right to be. This tended to happen when certain celestial beings were involved.

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Ducks! They’re what you practice proposals on. (Gen)

It wasn’t everyday you walked into St. James’ park to find a man down on one knee, ring box in hand, declaring his undying love to a duck, but it seemed today was a day of absurdities, because that was exactly what was happening.

Tumblr | AO3

Snark (Snake Park)

As a spy, Agent [redacted] of the British Bureau of [redacted] had seen some, for lack of a more elegant word, shit. Which is why when the sunglasses wearing redhead in St. James’ Park turned into a massive snake in broad daylight, he didn’t bat an eye.

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Because I Love You (Gen)

This is too much. They barely survived the apocalypse, barely survived getting offed by their head officers, and now Crowley asks him for this?

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Mr. Fell and Mr. Fell (Gen)

Crowley once again changes his name.

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Allow Me (Teen for blood)

Heaven orders Aziraphale to kill a human. Crowley is there to pick up the pieces.

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Third Time’s the Charm (Gen)

For the prompt “please marry me.”

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Routine (Gen)

For the prompt “why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

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Sentimentality (Gen)

Aziraphale keeps his most treasured possession in a cigar box that finds its home nestled in the tea cupboard next to the angel’s favorite brand of earl grey.

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It’s Always Been You (Gen)

A love story told in reverse.  

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God Only Knows (what I'd be without you) (Teen) (4/8 chapters)

Crowley and Aziraphale through the ages, but each time they meet it is for the first time.

AO3 Only

The Complete Idiot's Guide to Exorcism (Gen)

Aziraphale and Crowley fake some exorcisms.

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An Unfortunate Lack of 'Wahoo's (Gen)

“–And then I finished my presentation, Angel, my really good presentation, I might add, you would have been proud, I used notecards and everything. Notecards, Angel!”

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On the Stars (Gen)

I hung the stars for you.

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I See You (Gen)

Crowley sees Aziraphale in the sunrise. He sees him in the light as it graces the sky with color and warmth.

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One, Two, Three (Four) (Gen)

Each time they meet, it's like a dance.

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Big Spooky Fan, Me (Collection)

Trick or Treat! (Gen)

Nanny Ashtoreth and Brother Francis take Warlock Trick or Treating.

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A Dark and Spooky Night (Gen)

Aziraphale and Crowley tell scary stories.

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traditions, old and new ( winter fic collection)

Traditions (Gen)

And suddenly, it’s about traditions made together.

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[new-endings]

it’s a gray day; have a whumpy wip.

(reverse omens; raphael is an archangel, living under the guise of crowley, a lower tier angel; azira is the poor demon that raphael lied to for 6 millennia and got his heart broken upon learning the truth) 

takes place at the bus stop after armageddon: 

---

Azira flinches when Raphael— appearing this time as Crowley— approaches.

Raphael opens his mouth, trying to get a word in, but Azira won't let him.

"You shouldn't be here."

Crowley— no...Raphael pauses. It's the same words he greets the demon whenever he shows a little too much enthusiasm at spending time with the angel. 

"They'll come for you, if they knew your involvement. You may be an archangel, but you'll be outnumbered."

"I don't give a damn about that!" Raphael automatically retorts.

For the first time since his arrival, the demon turns to look at him. "Since when?" Azira asks evenly.

This time, it’s Raphael that flinches. He always used that excuse to avoid getting closer to the demon, the excuse to stave off those feelings that have been brewing since the beginning of humanity.

What will my superiors say when they find one of their own fraternising with a demon?

Words he threw out so carelessly before, but Azira had always been undeterred, always saying that he'll be sure to be careful.

(he never was, hence why Raphael had to lie and say he was only manipulating the demon for Heaven’s benefit)

He’ll make it up to him. He will. "Since now," Raphael says, sitting next to him on the bench.

His heart aches when Azira stills before inching away from him. "There's no need. What's done is done. They don't need to punish both of us."

"I won't let you suffer alone— "

"You don't need to be here, Raphael." 

That word, that name, doesn’t sound right coming from Azira's mouth. It was always Crowley. He was always Azira's Crowley.

But Azira's not done. "You have what you want and I have what I want. Perhaps it's time to end this little arrangement—"

"What," Raphael grabs him by the arm, heart splintering when Azira looks at him with fright. "What do you mean—"

"The hellfire. It's yours. And I—" Azira swallows. "I have my earth. I may not have long to enjoy it but—"

"Then come with me,” Raphael pleads. "I'll protect you, I've always—"

"No," Azira gasps. "No, I don't— I'll be fine on my own."

"Azira, no, we both know—"

"Yes, yes, I know, I've always depended on you to keep me safe, isn't that right? Well, it's a damn good thing I'll no longer be your burden to bear!"

"Burden?" Raphael breathes out. Where is this coming from? 

"It's a fine thing you did, hiding your name, hiding your power, hiding your intentions all this time. I know I wouldn't have the patience to pull it off."

"My intentions—"

"Were to manipulate a demon, isn't that right? Gather intel for Heaven?"

The realization sinks in. His demon overheard him and misunderstood. "Azira, wait—"

"I'm no longer of any use to you. When they bring me back, it will be to my execution." He turns to Raphael, the warm, firebright glow that always used to shine when the demon looked at him, dulled to dying embers. "I don't have much time. Please, let me go."

"You're mad if you think I intend on letting you go—I'm telling you, I can protect you! I won't let them hurt you, you know that—"

"By what? hiding me away? Do you have a cozy little prison waiting for me in Heaven where Gabriel can torture me for more information with the bloody Sound of Music—"

Raphael's growing frustrated; time's running out and—he's never had Azira deny him before. Not like this. Not even with the hellfire. "Do you honestly think I’d do that to you!?" Raphael's grip on Azira's arm is beginning to hurt and the demon whimpers under the force. "How long have you known me, Azira? I would never—"

"I don't," Azira gasps, prying his arm from Raphael's grip and scrambling away from him in a panic. "I don't know who you are."

Raphael's heart breaks. "It's me. Yes, I lied about my name and my position in Heaven but that's all—Azira, I swear to you! I lied to the others so they wouldn't suspect a thing when they saw us together—"

"So you lied about being worried that your superiors might catch you?!"

"Azira!" Raphael knows he should be apologizing, begging for forgiveness, but he can't stand that look of contempt on his demon's face, not when that face had only ever shown him warmth and happiness when they were together.

"I loved him, did you know that?" Azira breathes out, eyes wet.

Something ugly twisted in Raphael's chest at the admission. "Who?"

Who is he? who stole your heart after all this time? After I thought you had only wanted mine?

"Crowley," Azira says, tears streaking down his face.

Raphael’s heart stops. "Azira..." A delirious warmth spread throughout his chest. Raphael wants to gather the demon in his arms, kiss him until the tears stopped and kiss him more after that. "I'm here, Azira, please— I lo—"

"But he was a lie too, wasn't he?"

that’s all i have so far. 

the idea i had in my head was a reverse!omens with a demon aziraphale and an archangel raphael who lives on earth under the alias of crowley

the gist of the whumps is that azira fell and fell hard for crowley and crowley....cared about him (this is really a reversal) and only learned to love him much later on—

only for aziraphale to realize that the person he fell in love with is a lie.

crowley never existed. only an archangel who lied to him for millennia

it's the reverse of Good Omens too in that azira is very open in his adoration and (giant) crush on crowley, but crowley always played it off, at first believing that— well azira's a demon so that's a no-go, but also later on when he does start admitting to himself that he cares for the demon a lot more, he ALSO puts the barrier up because... he knows now that he's putting the demon he genuinely cares about in danger by being with him

later on, when they have an argument over hellfire (crowley wants it as insurance; he may be powerful, but so are the other archangels), crowley calls their tentative whatever it is "fraternising" and it honestly breaks azira's heart 

like poor azira, he genuinely thinks that maybe there's a chance that he could be more than just good company to have, someone the angel can converse with over wine about topics that he can't with other humans—

but it's there that azira gets this feeling that crowley...might just be using him. 

it. hurts.

but azira's in love and has been in love for so long, and against himself, he gives crowley the hellfire anyways. he leaves it there, warming the cold, barren hearth of crowley's apartment

in the attempts at botching the Armageddon, azira misplaced the antichrist. crowley's furious, not really at the demon, no, but azira's right there and a target of the archangel's panic and ire

azira recommends that they run off together and crowley scoffs at the idea

in crowley's mind, he knows that he won't be able to protect them both this time. he won't be able to fend off the other archangels who not only want his blood, but his demon's as well

crowley needs a plan and needs it fast. and— he can't have azira flubbing it this time

((raphael, obviously stronger than azira, has spent maaany millennia saving the demon. weird, it's almost the spoilt thing wants to be rescued))

he tells azira to leave and go home; he already made a mess of things as it is and that he'll call azira if he needs something

((further cementing the feeling azira has that crowley is only using him))

heartbroken, azira leaves but not before finding the book of prophecy the witch-girl left after crowley, in his panic-stricken mind, actually ran over (she was okay; azira made sure she survived) he goes through it, poring over it and understanding the prophecies and goes to crowley to show him what he's found out— show him that he's not just a burden—

only to sense the powerful presence of several archangels

azira panics— what if they found out what crowley was up to? what if they take him, or worse, punish him for trying to avert armageddon?

he hides his presence (a neat little trick he picked up; very useful when following the trail of the angel you love) and listens in on the conversation and nearly has a heart attack when crowley drops the façade and shows his form, his true form, the archangel raphael

heartbreak 1: crowley lied to him. in fact, worse: crowley was the lie himself. the being that azira loved and cherished never existed

heartbreak 2: the archangels are talking to Raphael about the demon that he was supposedly 'manipulating' in order to gain intel (a lie Raphael came up with so that they wouldn't be suspicious about why he was hanging around a demon so much); of course, azira believes them and understands, truly, that he was just being toyed with from the start

heartbreak 3: Raphael sounds like he's all for war (he's not; he's playing the role the archangels expect him to) ready to eradicate the legions of hell and bring an end to this miserable world (the world azira loves, the world where he feels he belongs, the world where he fell in love and almost believed himself to have a chance at being loved in return)

azira leaves and vows to fix things

he doesn't need crowley, raphael, whoever— he is

he'll stop armageddon himself if he needs to

azira goes to track down the boy himself using the prophecies from the witch's book meanwhile, raphael is panicking; the plans are underway and even speaking to the metatron doesn't give him access to speak to God— his last-ditch effort

he thinks back to azira's stupid suggestion—that they run off together—and a part of him is desperate enough to believe that even prolonging their demise would be enough.

he can't—won't fight azira in the battlefields. and he'll slay his own kin if they so much as raise a sword to his demon

he's calling azira's bookshop but there's no answer. he goes there himself and finds it engulfed in flames

hell has found his demon and raphael gives up all hope

it’s azira that finds Adam and is the one to single-handedly convince him to stop armageddon, that he doesn't need to be a slave to this supposed destiny of his

meanwhile, crowley watches on, stunned—that his demon is alive and—actually competent?

raphael wants to be there, wants to stand by azira's side so badly

he knows he has a lot to explain, a lot to apologize for, over 6,000 years of lies and deceit but it's that look in azira's eyes from across the tadfield air base that stops raphael in his tracks.

fear

azira is afraid…of him

armageddon is averted all thanks to a demon that loved this world more than anything and no thanks to an archangel who would have committed treason to save the demon he loved

[wanderingalicewrites]

So Much Discounted - Chapter 10

Genesis - III

(also on AO3)

Aziraphale returned down the path to the clearing in which he had found Compassion. He half expected that other, angry aspect to have vanished while they spoke, but there he was. Still dressed in the same robes Crowley had worn in Eden, with the gold of Heaven dusted across his skin. He was leaning against a tree with his arms crossed, glaring at Aziraphale as the angel came around a bend in the path, the creature riding draped across his shoulders.

“Took you long enough,” the aspect sneered. “Did that goody-two-shoes tell you all about what a mess you landed in?”

“He did.” Aziraphale could feel the anger radiating off of this aspect of Crowley, hot and hard and heavy.

“And I expect you’re looking for a way out?” the aspect asked, scowling. He stood and stalked into the center of the clearing, where the sunlight glinted off of the gold in his skin. “You’re here to ask me how to get back up, aren’t you? Well, surprise, I have no idea. You’re just gonna have to help yourself, like you angels always do.”

The creature hissed around Aziraphale’s neck, its fire flaring as it stared down the angry aspect.

“And what would you know?” the aspect snapped. “You’re just a dumb animal. Instinct and nothing more.”

“It’s been invaluable to me in getting this far,” Aziraphale told him, lifting a hand to stroke the creature, which had started vibrating so hard he feared it might fly apart.

The aspect laughed, harsh and guttural, like nails on glass. “Sure. Sure. Defend that, why don’t you? A monster out of nightmares, and you’re wearing it like a scarf. Do you have any idea what that thing could do if it got out?”

Aziraphale shuddered, remembering the creature as it had been in the cell, an insane mass of negative emotion, attacking anything that came near it with all of its pain. He didn’t even want to imagine the kind of damage such a creature could do, if it had not been contained.

The angry aspect rolled his eyes. “Fucking typical. You have no clue the consequences of your actions, do you? Just like all angels, off living in your own ideal world where everything’s sunshine and rainbows while some of us are struggling just to keep alive without falling apart.”

“That’s not fair,” Aziraphale cried, stung. “I’m not- I- I’ve never-” He wanted to protest, but a voice inside pinched at him, preventing him from speaking. You didn’t think before you lied to him, did you? it asked. You just lied to protect yourself, and Crowley suffered because of it.

The aspect exhaled a violent huff of air and spun on his heel, walking away from Aziraphale. “Whatever. Go on then. Find a way out, if you can. Leave us alone.”

Aziraphale hesitated for just a moment. Then he strengthened his resolve and stood straight and firm in the center of the clearing. “No.”

“No?” the aspect demanded, whirling to face him. “What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“No, I’m not leaving.” He met angry gold eyes and held his gaze. “I mean to return Crowley to himself, and I’m not leaving until I do.”

“Why?” the aspect snapped, harsh and cold. “What could a demon be to an angel?”

What could a demon be to an angel? That was the question, wasn’t it? He was an enemy and nothing more, if you looked at it from Heaven’s point of view. And yet, he had never really looked at Crowley in that way. They had never been enemies, as such. Merely…. Pieces on opposite sides of a giant chess match. Pieces whose roles had become so intertwined and interchangeable over time that they sometimes took on each other’s moves. But even that was really the wrong way to look at it.

“It’s not like that,” he told the aspect. “It’s not, we’re not ‘an angel and a demon’. That’s just, as Crowley would say, ‘our job description’. And it isn’t even really that anymore. We’re just two supernatural entities that happen to care very much about each other.”

“Care?” the aspect scoffed, but he seemed unable to look away from Aziraphale’s steady gaze.

Aziraphale found himself smiling faintly, remembering how hard Crowley had argued to get him to accept this very thing. And now here he was, their roles reversed. The irony was not lost on him. “Yes, of course,” he said. “Crowley is my dearest friend.” It felt odd, saying that to someone who was both so like and unlike his Crowley. This aspect felt… harder. Certainly angrier. Where Compassion had been like Crowley with the edges filed away, this aspect was all edges and sharp corners, with none of the gentleness he had come to know within his friend.

“There is not one being in this entire universe that I care for more,” the angel added. “I suspect I could not have gotten to this place if that were not the case.”

“And you think I would believe that?” the aspect growled. “You positively stink of Heaven. And I can smell the guilt on you from here. All this,” he waved his hands in the air, indicating the garden around them, the creature on Aziraphale’s shoulders, and the mirror in Aziraphale’s hands. “This is your fault, isn’t it?”

Aziraphale looked down. “Yes,” he admitted in a small voice. “I was… thoughtless, like you said. I didn’t notice how much pain Crowley was in. If I had…” he shook his head and gritted his teeth. “But he’s to blame as well. He knows I’d help him, if he asked. All he had to do was tell me.”

“And what expectation did he have that you would?” the aspect demanded. “Did he even know how much you supposedly care about him?”

“I…” No. The answer was no, Crowley hadn’t known. Aziraphale had kept it to himself for thousands of years, expecting the demon just to infer from the fact that he didn’t leave that he liked being around him. Hell, he’d flat-out told Crowley he didn’t like him that evening under the bandstand. He’d caused his friend so much pain, and he hadn’t even realized until it was too late. The knowledge cut at him deep inside, like knives in his heart, but he had no one to blame but himself.

“I should have been more honest with him,” he admitted. “I expected he would understand without my saying so. I was wrong. I won’t make that mistake again.”

The aspect laughed at him. “You won’t get the chance again. Your demon is gone. All you’ve got left is that thing,” he pointed to the creature. “And some bits of a soul. You’ll never succeed in putting us all back together, and the sooner you accept that the better it’ll be.”

Aziraphale glared at him. “I will not. I refuse. Yes, I should have done better. I should have told him how much he means to me. But I absolutely will not give up on him now. I will put him back together.”

“Oh you will, will you?” the aspect sneered. “Sure, right up until it’s too much effort and you give up. Until you decide that I’m really not worth all this and fuck off back to Heaven where you belong.”

The angel took a long, steadying breath. He had never seen Crowley this angry before. Perhaps it was because his rage was usually tempered by other emotions, or perhaps he simply had better control over himself, but Aziraphale had never thought to see him like this - vibrating with barely contained anger and snapping like a wild animal.

“You don’t remember me,” he told him. “So I don’t expect you to know this. But I do not just give up on things once I’ve started them. I do not give up on people. I have never, not once, given up on Crowley. And I certainly don’t intend to start now. My place, ‘where I belong’, as you put it, is not in Heaven. It’s on Earth, at Crowley’s side. Just as his is at mine. It has been for the past six thousand years, and will be for however long we both exist.”

The aspect stalked forward, leaning in to glare into his eyes. “You say that, and maybe, just maybe I can believe you mean it. But then tell me this, angel. You hold his soul in your hands. Everything he is is right here.” He grabbed the mirror from Aziraphale, holding it up and scowling at its empty depths. “Are you really going to put us back together just the way we were?”

In the glass, an image formed. Crowley, face contorted in anger, screaming at his houseplants.

Aziraphale blinked in surprise at the question. “What? Yes! Of course I am!”

“Really?” the aspect lifted an eyebrow. “When it would be so easy for you to just… scratch in a little change?” He drew one sharp nail down the glass inside an empty circle. “Write out the bits you don’t like and replace them with something else?”

The image in the mirror changed, becoming clouded and faded. The expression on mirror-Crowley’s face went eerily blank.

“No.” Aziraphale snatched the mirror back, scrubbing frantically at the scratch. “No. I like Crowley just how he is. I would never try to make him into something else.” He saw with relief that the scratch had vanished under his fingers. The image of Crowley yelling returned for just a moment, and then disappeared entirely.

“No?” the aspect asked, stalking closer, forcing Aziraphale to take a step back. And then another. And another. “Not even to calm that demonic temper?” His voice was quiet, even, almost emotionless. He took another step. Aziraphale could feel a tree at his back now. “Or remove that pesky stubbornness?” He leaned in, bracing a hand on a branch above the angel’s head. “Or how about that forbidden curiosity, that got him cast out in the first place?” He kept moving forward, until Aziraphale was pressed against the tree, no more than an inch between them.

“No,” he repeated. “That would be wrong.”

The aspect laughed, harsh and bitter. “Sure, sure. Admit it, though. There are parts of him you don’t like. Things that annoy you, hurt you, even anger you. Wouldn’t you like to get rid of them? Make him into the perfect companion? Someone worthy of an angel’s company?”

Pain flared hot within the anger the angel could sense flowing from the aspect, ancient and terrible. This was an old, old hurt. How long, Aziraphale wondered, had Crowley felt like this? How many times had he told himself he wasn’t worthy of Aziraphale’s companionship? And how many times had Aziraphale let him feel that way, because it was easier than admitting that Heaven might have been wrong? Well, that could not, would not continue.

Aziraphale looked up into those angry golden eyes, and brought a hand up to cradle the aspect’s face. “My dear,” he said softly. “You are, and have always been, worthy. I was a fool for not seeing it from the very start. And while you can do some things that upset me, I am certainly guilty of more than a few faults of my own. No one of us is ever perfect. Your faults are a part of you. To remove them would not only be the gravest of violations, it would make you less than you are. I would never do such a thing, even if you were to request it.”

The aspect stayed silent, breathing heavily and staring at Aziraphale as if entranced. Around his neck, the creature vibrated and let out a low buzzing hum.

“You can’t just… cherry-pick the pieces of a person,” the angel continued. “Decide ‘I like them this way, but not that’. That’s not how people work. And even when you say things that hurt me, or make me angry, I still love you. Just as I love you when you drive that infernal car far too fast, or when you ask me uncomfortable questions I don’t want to answer. Which is also just as much as I love you when you make me laugh, or take me to dinner, or do all those wonderful things you do. So no, to answer your question. I will not be leaving out pieces of your soul. I will put you back together exactly as you were, faults and all.”

“Then name me,” the aspect growled. “Tell me, what part of that soul am I?”

That was simple. He knew this one already. “Rage,” he said. “You are Crowley’s anger. And you are as vital to him as his Compassion and his Curiosity.”

Rage leaned in, so close now their foreheads were almost touching. “You would return me to his soul?” he demanded, voice barely above a whisper. “Knowing what I am? That I am an aspect of sin?”

“I would.” Aziraphale told him calmly, and watched those familiar eyes widen in surprise. Rage pulled back, stepping away, and Aziraphale followed, reaching out and taking up his hand. “It’s as I said.” He stroked the back of Rage’s hand with his thumb and guided it down to press his fingers to the mirror, holding them there in the empty circle beside Compassion. “To remove you from him would make him less than he is. I do not love Crowley in spite of his rage. I love him because of it, and every other aspect of his soul.”

“You mean that,” Rage said, wonder in his voice.

“I do. And I am so very, very sorry for all times I made you feel like I didn’t. You have every right to be angry, my dear. At me, at Heaven, at God, and anyone and everyone else that has hurt you. I can only beg your forgiveness for my actions, and hope that I can do enough to earn it.”

Rage sighed, the tension falling from his body. “You have it, angel.” He smiled, a genuine smile. “I think it must be hard for me to stay mad at you for long.” His free hand came up to grip the metal frame of the mirror. “Good luck,” he said as it flashed. “Give that asshole in the center a good kick for me when you see him.” And then, he dissolved into a bright stream of light. When his eyes cleared, Aziraphale saw the sigil for Rage now etched into the glass beside the circle for Compassion.

[ineffablegoodhusbandsomens]

Rewrite the Stars

So, this was inspired by an animation by @tomeart. It’s really good, and I love it to death, and really wanted to make a fic of it. Here’s the link, if any of you guys want to check it out. I highly recommend it. They’re a fantastic animator, and their videos are really good! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3cL_FtQE2GA Thanks a ton for letting me write this, Tomeart, it was super fun to work on, and I love the animation a bunch!

   It was a calm peaceful day in London. Aziraphale’s shop was open, where the angel was moving books around, but he hadn’t seen a customer in so long, he was inclined to believe someone was miracling them away. But he certainly hadn’t, and he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Crowley in almost a week, outside of the Dowling Estate. Hopefully the demon wasn’t getting into too much trouble. The apocalypse wasn’t due for another year, as Warlock had just turned 10 a few months ago. Perhaps Crowley was doing everything he could to enjoy Earth for one more year.

   “Don’t think too hard, Angel. You might hurt yourself” came a familiar voice, knocking Aziraphale out of his thoughts. The angel smiled and turned to see Crowley leaning against a nearby bookshelf. Aziraphale couldn’t hide his blush, seeing the demon back in his shop after a week. Sure they saw each other when they were playing the parts of Nanny Ashtoreth and Brother Francis, but it just wasn’t quite the same.

   “I would say the same to you, my dear, if I was under the assumption that you were capable of thinking” Aziraphale shot back, smirking at the demon. Crowley lifted a hand to cover his chest in mock hurt. Even with his glasses on, Aziraphale could tell the demon’s eyes were bright with happiness.

   “Ouch, Angel. I don’t see you outside of work for a week, and this is how I get treated upon my return?” Crowley asked, and Aziraphale playfully rolled his eyes.

   “Perhaps next time, you won’t leave for so long” Now it was Crowley’s turn to smirk.

   “Did somebody miss me?” the demon asked playfully, and Aziraphale felt another blush creeping up his face.

   “Hardly, darling. I merely worry about the poor innocents being tormented by the forces of evil, with nobody to thwart it” the angel said, and Crowley smirked even wider.

   “You absolutely missed me” he said, leaving no room for argument, as he gently pushed away from the bookshelf, and approached the angel. Aziraphale rolled his eyes once again.

   “If I say yes, will you drop the subject?” he asked, no real annoyance behind his voice. Crowley shrugged his shoulders, grinning at Aziraphale.

   “Maybe. What do I get for my troubles?” he asked, and Aziraphale thought for a moment.

   “What do you want?” he asked in return, and Aziraphale thought for a moment, that the demon's face reddened as he lifted his sunglasses, and placed them on the top of his head.

   “What about dinner and dancing?” he said, voice soft, and Aziraphale’s eyes widened. Crowley knew why they couldn’t do that.

   “But you don’t eat” the angel said in exasperation. Crowley smiled softly.

   “But you do” he said, not meeting Aziraphale’s eyes. The angel could definitely see blush on Crowley’s cheeks now.

   “But neither of us can dance” he tried again, and Crowley huffed a small laugh.

   “I do. I can teach you” he said, and Aziraphale knew he was running out of arguments.

   “Bless is all, Angel. I’m trying to ask you out on a proper date. Not a secret meeting between adversaries to the opera, or the museum cafe to compare notes. A proper date between friends at the Ritz, or somewhere nice with a dance floor, where we can just enjoy the night” Crowley continued, sounding slightly desperate. Aziraphale looked at him sympathetically. He knew what Crowley was getting at. They both knew. Ever since their moment in the Bentley in ‘67, Crowley has done his best to go as slow as he could for his angel. But, with only a year left before the world was prophesied to end, he just wanted a year with Aziraphale, no hiding from head offices, no being scared of their feelings for each other. Just one year to have with each other, before they were supposed to fight against each other in the coming war.

   “Crowley...we can’t” Azirapahle said softly, turning away from the demon. Crowley’s face fell, and Aziraphale felt a pang in his heart. He wanted to. God, he wanted to. But in his mind's eye, he could see Gabriel, Uriel and Michael, all looking at him in disgust. He could see what would happen if they were caught. Worst of all, he could see what would happen if they weren’t caught. The life that he’s always wanted with Crowley, love, warmth, the feeling of home, and having all that snathed from him, as they are forced to square off on the battlefield. He wouldn’t be able to handle that, and he knew Crowley wouldn’t either. He was trying to protect both of them.

   “Angel…” Crowley said softly, reaching out a hand towards the angel, and Aziraphale steeled himself. He couldn’t.

   “No, Crowley. We can’t!” he said, firmer this time. Crowley’s hand fell, and he glared slightly. Not at anyone, but just in general. One can only get rejected so many times, before they become bitter to everything.

   “Why? Because of Heaven and Hell? Because I go too fast for you? Are you scared you’re going to Fall? What is it, Angel, because I can only go so slow” Crowley said, his voice growing angry, as Aziraphale’s own face fell in sadness.

   “Crowley…” Aziraphale said, and Crowley stepped closer to the Angel, reaching out his arm again.

   “You know I want you. It’s not a secret I try to hide” the demon said softly, taking another step closer to Aziraphale. The angel could feel his resolve breaking. 

   “Crowley…” he tried again, trying to make his voice sound more stern, and failing.

   “I know you want me, so don’t keep saying our hands are tied” Crowley continued, and Aziraphale took a step away from the demon, not even willing to look him in the eyes.

   “Crowley, stop. We can’t. This situation is out of our control, there is nothing we can do about it. If Hell finds out, they could destroy you. If Heaven finds out, I could Fall. I can not allow either of those things to happen” the angel said, attempting to put his foot down about this entire argument, when he felt arms on his shoulders, spinning his around to face Crowley, and he was pushed up against a pillar. Crowley’s hands went from his shoulders to his wrists, and held him there.

   “I don’t give a damn about Heaven and Hell! I don’t give a flying fuck what they would do or say! All I care about is you, dammit! Why can’t you see that I love you?!” Crowley said, bowing his head against Aziraphale’s chest, and closing his eyes, trying to calm himself down. But, as he turned the last thing he said around in his head, he realized what he said. He looked up at Aziraphale in horror, and quickly let go of the angel's wrists, his hands shaking. He took a step back, and looked down at his feet, prepared for Aziraphale to throw him out of the book shop. 

   “Crowley…” Aziraphale said softly, as he gently grabbed the demon's hands with his own. Crowley’s heart ached at the touch. He knew the angel wanted this, wanted him. But, they both knew it was impossible. If they acted on their feelings, they could run the risk of being caught, and losing each other. A final year together, freely, without hiding their love for each other would not be worth it if, in the end, they ended up dead, no chance to save the world. He just wished there was some way to change the circumstances. A song he had heard on the radio not too long ago popped in his head, and he couldn’t help but chuckle at the irony of the situation.

   “What if we rewrite the stars, say you were made to be mine? Nothing could keep us apart, and you’d be the one I was meant to find” he sang quietly, just loud enough for the angel to hear him.

   “What is that? It sounds familiar” Aziraphale asked, looking up at the demon in front of him.

   “It’s a song I heard on the radio about a week ago. I think it’s called Rewrite the Stars” he said, and Aziraphale smiled.

   “Ah, I remember now. A regular had come in once and played it for me. I quite liked it” he said, and Crowley smiled softly. Of course his angel would listen to a song like that. Then, Aziraphale brightened, and Crowley looked at him curiously.

   “Angel wh-” he started, before Aziraphale interrupted him.

   “All I want is to fly with you, all I want is to fall with you” he softly sang, pulling his wings into existence, and gently lifting himself and Crowley into the air together. Crowley looked up at him curiously for a second, before he smiled. He brought out his own wings, and used them to lift him up to be level with Aziraphale, still hand in hand with his angel. His sunglasses flew off the top of his head, but he didn’t care.

   “So just give me all of you” Crowley sang, as he moved his hands up Aziraphale’s arms, and they flew up, spinning gently, together. Aziraphale laughed softly.

   “Let it be said that you are a terrible sap, my dear” Aziraphale said, smiling. Crowley laughed, and pulled Aziraphale closer to him, one arm wrapping around the angel's shoulders, the other around his back. Azirapale responded in kind, wrapping both arms around his demon's shoulders.

   “Only for you, Angel” the demon responded, and he snapped his fingers. Aziraphale’s gramophone began playing the aforementioned song, and Aziraphale laughed again. He caught Crowley’s eyes, and together, they both pushed away from each other, smiles bright on their faces.

   How do we rewrite the stars? Say you were made to be mine

   Aziraphale flew around the bookshop, making his way back to Crowley, who reached out his hand, and spun Aziraphale under their arms as the angel took it. Their smiles had not left their faces. In fact, they had brightened.

   Nothing can keep us apart, cause you are the one I was meant to find. It’s up to you, and it’s up to me. No one can say what we get to be

   Together, they flew back at each other, and embraced the other tightly, hugging each other close, as they gently floated back down to the ground.

   So why don’t we rewrite the stars, changing the world to be ours?

   Their wings disappeared, as their feet touched the floor together, their arms still wrapped around each other. Crowley looked down at Aziraphale, trying his hardest to convey the love he felt for the angel with just his eyes. 

   “You know I want you. It’s not a secret I try to hide” Crowley sang softly. Aziraphale looked away, and his heart fell.

   “But I can’t have you. We’re bound to break, and my hands are ties” Aziraphale sang back, pressing his forehead against Crowley’s. They stood together for some time, neither wanting to let the other go. Maybe one day, the stars would get rewritten, and they could be together. But for now, they were bound to break, and their hands were tied.

[non-bunnary]

Good Omens Secret Santa 2019

Here you go,  @catherineamaris! I hope you enjoy!

It was a week before Armageddon, and Aziraphale had never felt so light and happy.

There was a skip in his step as he strolled down the sidewalk, humming a tune that he’d heard sometime around the 16th century, his hands clasped loosely in front of him. Even a few years ago, he wouldn’t have been nearly so jovial at the idea of the end of the world fast approaching, but now…well, their influence was clearly working on young Warlock, and he had confidence they just might have pulled off this daring endeavor.

He didn’t know what Crowley was so worried about; everything had gone according to plan, and neither of their sides were any the wiser that they were planning anything besides the tasks they’d taken up. As far as he was concerned, this whole situation was over and done with. Their part was finished, and now all that was left to do was sit back and wait for the end of the world not to happen.

Aziraphale had to admit, though…it had been nice to see Crowley more often these last several years. Not that he’d ever say so, but he did enjoy the demon’s company quite a bit. He made for much more interesting conversation than, say, Gabriel.

And, well…he did look rather fetching in his nanny disguise, he had to admit.

His feelings for Crowley were complicated, to say the least. Hereditary enemies they might be, but there were times it took a considerable effort not to lean in closer than was companionable, or reach out to take the demon’s thin hand in his, lacing their fingers like he’d seen so many starry-eyed lovers do in his many years. The only thing stopping him, really, was the laundry list of consequences. What if their respective sides found out? Or worse, what if Crowley didn’t return his feelings, and their friendship was irreparably damaged by his own blundering? No, it was best to leave things be as they were, even if the thought of going so long before seeing Crowley after all this was done gave him a certain ache behind his ribs.

He tried to shake off the sudden melancholy as he finally reached his destination: a simple, charming little barber shop just a few blocks away from his own shop. He’d been going there for nearly twelve years now, and was so familiar with the staff that they greeted him immediately as he stepped through the door.

“Ezra!” A man in his middle age with perfectly combed salt-and-pepper hair stepped forward, beaming. “We haven’t seen you in a while! Was starting to get worried you’d found a new barber.”

“Oh, Elliot, you know I could never trust anyone else with my hair.” He embraced the man briefly before stepping further into the shop. “I’ve been…occupied, of late, is all.”

Elliot hummed, giving Aziraphale a once-over. “Why, my friend, you’re practically glowing! Come, sit, tell me everything.”

Well, he couldn’t exactly tell Elliot everything, but he did relish the idea of chatting with him again after so long. Though they only saw each other in a professional setting, Aziraphale did consider the man a friend, and always loved to hear the latest news in his life.

Elliot snapped the protective apron into the air and settled it around Aziraphale’s shoulders, careful to cover every inch of his precious clothes. When he had it secure, he began misting the top of his head, then combing back the locks carefully. He didn’t need to tell the barber what he wanted; even now, he was a creature of habit, and had no desire to change that.

“So, tell me,” Elliot said with a grin, his voice low as he leaned in conspiratorially. “This preoccupation that kept you away for so long…might it have something to do with your friend, Mr. Crowley?”

“Oh, I shouldn’t say!” Aziraphale flushed a bit under the scrutiny. “You know how complicated that situation is, Elliot. If his…family found out about our friendship, even, it could spell disaster.”

Elliot nodded sagely, his scissors snipping just at the base of Aziraphale’s neck. “But he is on your mind, yes?” In the mirror, the angel could see the mischievous look on the barber’s face. “Talk to me, Ezra. What happens in the chair, stays in the chair.”

Aziraphale sighed wistfully, glancing around once before giving in. After all, it’s not like Elliot would run out and tell the angels about this. And what was the harm indulging in a bit of fantasy? “Oh, you can see right through me, can’t you? Alright, I’ll tell you. We’ve been…spending quite a bit of time together of late. More time than we’ve ever been able to before. There’s been dinners, and drinking, and…” He allowed himself a moment to remember the other night, celebratory drinks in the bookshop, lighting a fire and watching the way it played in the reds of his hair, the way his naked eyes drooped under the weight of alcohol and stared up at him through long lashes. He didn’t realize he had trailed off until Elliot was chuckling.

“You’ve got it as bad as ever, haven’t you?” He smiled good-naturedly as he moved up to the ears, carefully snipping around them. “You should tell him. Families be damned! I haven’t spoken to mine in decades, and I’ve never looked back. People like you and me, we make new families, ones that really love us for who we are.” The golden ring on his left hand glinted in the light as he moved to brush some hair from the apron.

There were a lot of assumptions humans made about Aziraphale that he was more than happy to let stand. This, the one that gave him a sense of community, was one he made no attempts to dissuade. Human though he might not be, he felt a certain kinship with those who were unjustly punished for who they loved.

“It’s not that simple,” he said glumly, with a small sad smile. “Besides…I don’t even know if he returns my feelings. Wouldn’t that be a thing, to feel so strongly and find out that he doesn’t even love me back?” Under the apron, his hand twisted the ring on his pinky nervously. No, it wasn’t an entirely just fear. Crowley did love him, in his own way. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have done all the things he did over the millennia. But there was a difference between loving your friend, and loving someone the way Aziraphale loved him.

Elliot’s hand squeezed his shoulder comfortingly, scissors set aside and forgotten. “Come now, how could he not? Why, if I didn’t have a husband waiting for me back home, I’d snatch you up in an instant.”

“You’re very kind, dear boy, thank you.” Now that his thoughts were down that path, however, he found he couldn’t stop thinking them. He wasn’t as fast as Crowley, or as exciting. He didn’t have that same self-assured confidence. Crowley would probably find a relationship with him boring, at best.

Elliot seemed to hesitate a moment, before suddenly walking off. Aziraphale blinked and stared after him. His haircut wasn’t finished yet, was it? No, they’d only gotten through half of it. So where was…?

His unspoken question was answered abruptly when the barber returned and showed him a small bottle.

“I wore this on my first date with my husband. This, coupled with my unrivaled charm, landed me the sweetest man in the world.” He lifted the apron and shoved the cologne into Aziraphale’s hands. “Now it’s your turn.” The angel flushed, trying to return what was clearly an important and sentimental item. Elliot refused, simply returning to the haircut and ignoring all his attempts.

It seemed like no time at all before he was paying and out the door, a bit in a daze after the bizarre events. The small square bottle was still clutched in his hand. Of course, Elliot meant well. As far as he knew, his relationship with Crowley was no more illicit than any gay man’s. A bottle of cologne couldn’t possibly fix all those issues.

He slipped it into his pocket and resolved to forget about it, possibly miracle it back onto Elliot’s work station after they closed for the day. No sooner had he done so than another being fell into stride with him. Startling, he realized it was Crowley.

“Crowley! You know I hate it when you sneak up on me like that.”

“S’not often I get the jump on you. Where’s your head today?” The demon grinned at him, though it wavered and dropped very quickly. “Hell’s getting really restless, angel. They’re out for blood. I shudder to think what they’ll do to anyone who, ah…denies them that.”

“Oh. Oh, dear, yes, I see.” He hadn’t thought about that. Though he was working in an unofficial capacity, he was still actively working against Hell in regards to the antichrist. He’d have to be careful in case any demons tried anything. “Thank you for the warning.”

Crowley hummed low in his throat, his head angled down. “Not like I’d let them hurt you. They’d have to go through me first.”

That admission nearly made Aziraphale stop in his tracks, but he managed to pass it off as a stumble. Of course, he felt the same, but…to hear it? To hear Crowley say he’d be willing to stand up to the forces of Hell for him? That was another thing entirely.

They reached the door to his bookshop and Aziraphale turned to invite Crowley inside, but to his great disappointment, the demon was already walking away, halfway across the street to the sound of angry honks and swearing. He’d practically brought traffic to a grinding halt.

Perhaps he’d just give the cologne a try, he thought, letting himself inside.

--

“To the world.”

“To the world.”

The champagne flutes chimed gently together as they toasted. Through all of it, thick and thin, somehow they’d come out the other side unscathed. Not only that, but…free? It was still surreal to think that Heaven wouldn’t be contacting him any longer, or sending him on errands. He was his own agent now, both him and Crowley.

The future shone bright with so many possibilities.

Crowley was talking, but Aziraphale found himself more than a little distracted with just what kind of possibilities lay before him. More than that, he couldn’t help how his eyes lingered on the demon that had become his best friend and more. He’d never been able to look without guilt before, but now…well, now he could study Crowley’s nimble hands, lose himself in the deep baritone of his voice, let his eyes linger on the top few buttons of his shirt, now open to the world.

It was an unconscious miracle, really, one he couldn’t remember doing but which felt so natural when he felt the square glass bottle in his pocket. He’d tried to cologne before, and it had failed spectacularly, Crowley’s stress about the apocalypse outshining it by strides.

Now, though…

Trying to be discreet, Aziraphale dabbed a few drops on both wrists, then slipped it back into his pocket. Crowley had such a keen sense of smell, there was no way he wouldn’t notice. To his disappointment, however, Crowley didn’t even hesitate in his speech. Perhaps it was a bit foolish to think it would change anything at this stage. They’d known each other 6000 years. If anything was going to happen, it would have happened, right? Crowley at least would have said something.

Aziraphale’s melancholy didn’t last long once their desserts were brought out. His was a decadent chocolate mousse, while Crowley had a scrumptious-looking crème broulee. Though of course he wanted his own dessert, he began inching his way towards Crowley’s, spoon in hand. The demon chuckled when he noticed what he was doing, scooting it closer.

His spoon had barely broke the surface when Crowley’s hand wrapped gently around his wrist. It was a light touch, but it startled him so much he dropped his spoon.

“Crowley?” An embarrassing squeak escaped his lips as the demon lifted his hand to his face, pressing his nose against the delicate skin of his wrist and inhaling deeply. His palm flattened against the other’s cheek as he pressed one light kiss where the skin was peeking out from under his sleeve.

It was impossible to tell where Crowley was looking with his sunglasses on, but his cheeks were tinged a bright pink. “You…smell good,” he said, by way of explanation. His hand laid over Aziraphale’s on his cheek. “New cologne?”

“Quite.” Aziraphale felt breathless as he leaned forward, slow and on the lookout for any reluctance. There was none as Crowley tilted his head and slotted their lips together.

The sounds of The Ritz faded into the background, unimportant noise as they leaned into one another. Aziraphale felt dizzy with it, his head a gentle buzz of feeling. So many years he’d spent imagining this, and now here they were.

When they pulled away, far too soon for his opinion, he felt moisture dripping down his chin. “Oh! I’m so sorry my dear. So sorry. I don’t know what’s come over me.” He moved to dab at his eyes with his handkerchief, but was stopped by Crowley’s thumb, cupping his cheek and tenderly wiping them away. The way he was smiling at him was enough for a fresh wave to fall, his heart clenching in his chest.

“It’s alright,” the demon said, his voice low and gentle. “I’ve got you. It’s alright.” Aziraphale allowed himself to be led into another kiss, and this time a laugh escaped his lips when they parted. He kissed Crowley again, and again, and again, and though it was never enough, when they finally parted for the last time, he was smiling so wide his cheeks hurt.

“I…I’ll have to tell Elliot his cologne worked,” he said, laying his head on Crowley’s shoulder. Part of him was aware that they were still in public, could still be seen by everyone around them who dared to look. He felt giddy with the freedom, to finally express the love that had been building up inside him for so long. He clutched the demon to him tightly. “I love you. I’ve loved you for longer than I can even remember.”

“Yeah?” Crowley’s self-assured answered wavered a bit as he hesitantly embraced Aziraphale in return. “I…me too.” The angel chuckled as the demon’s cool exterior melted away, revealing the person he’d always been in Aziraphale’s presence. He didn’t need to pretend anymore. Neither of them did. It was a new world, and they were free.

Soon after, an angel and a demon walked hand-in-hand out of the restaurant, into a new world full of possibilities, and a future they could share together.

[eturni]

Day 19 - Wish

Day 19 of @drawlight‘s holiday calendar and honestly such a bit thanks to him for putting it up and encouraging so much good content in the fandom. This has to be the most consistently I’ve written in a long time even if it’s murdering my sleep schedule.

Today is Wish and features stargazing, a meteor shower, some bad memories and a good degree of softness and reciprocated pining.

“How about that then?”

The demon shook his head. “Satellite, angel.”

Aziraphale huffed and straightened his waistcoat fussily. “I’m starting to think you’re saying it just to be difficult now.” He accused, turning to Crowley from where he lay on the picnic blanket on the flat roof of a Mayfair flat that did not have roof access, or a flat roof at all, a few scant hours earlier.

Even with the blanket at his back the winter chill worked through to his skin and made Crowley’s presence beside him a notable line of heat. He was close, far too close for their normal interactions but it was winter and there was mistletoe stitched into the holiday-themed blanket and Aziraphale restlessly traced the path of the stitches with nervous fingers as he prayed that heaven was casting it’s eyes elsewhere.

“Trust me, angel. I know what I see. It’s too slow and too regular. You’ll get another.” He promised with a faint smile. The shower wasn’t due to really kick up for a little while yet.

“Hmm, you’d best not be pulling my leg, as it were.” The angel narrowed his eyes at Crowley.

All for show, of course. They’d trusted each other for years with the Arrangement, and now more than ever.

Of course it did give him ample opportunity to study the demon’s face, lit as it was by the haze of light-pollution London threw out. A thing which, by all rights, should be making it impossible to stargaze at all, even with the chill air preventing any clouds from forming. Naturally a certain magnificent demon had ensured a clear enough sky just for them.

Frivolous. Reckless. Aziraphale smiled to himself regardless: it was the longest night of the year and the stars hung closer to them somehow. Aziraphale caught movement in the corner of his eye and turned his head just in time to catch a tiny fire-bright blaze across the sky.

“Make a wish.” Crowley encouraged with a low chuckle. If Aziraphale were paying attention he would say that it sounded a little strained.

Read the rest on AO3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/21638803/chapters/52188778 or:

These days Aziraphale was always paying attention. He was too starkly aware of what he could have lost in burying his head n the sand with Crowley. So much. He reached out to rest a hand on Crowley’s arm, wondering if he could hold a wish and store it up until he needed it. Why not? It was as likely as getting a direct audience with Her rather than the Metatron and he’d taken that chance.

“What’s wrong dear?” He finally ventured, letting the imaginary wish slip away to focus on the other.

“M’fine. Bit cold but it’s a good night for it. Stars was my thing. I know stars, but I know those too. All up there together after all, right?”

Aziraphale purses his lips and considers, gently squeezing Crowley’s arm but letting the matter drop as he lets Crowley map the stars for him while they wait for more meteors.

Within half an hour the meteor shower was building in earnest and the discomfort across Crowley’s face was clear.

Then something odd. Even for them.

A faint spot that seemed to take on a faint light. A spot across the bridge of Crowley’s nose. Barely there, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it light.

The angel went very still as he watched the night sky be reflected in yellow and black. Crowley was smiling. Or grimacing. There was quiet joy in his eyes, or else a gentle pain. It seemed to walk some fine line of love mixed with pain that Aziraphale almost wished he didn’t understand. He knew that look intimately but he just didn’t know quite what it meant here and now.

Maybe a wish to return out there. He’s asked Aziraphale to run away with him, not so long ago. Out to the stars. Made a wish.

“I’m sorry. It must be so painful.” He ventured, though he wasn’t certain on which part of it specifically.

Crowley only shook his head. “They’re not really stars. Not really mine.”

“You still said you know them well.”

“Belief’s a funny thing I guess. Same as wishes. It’s all up there, we dealt with it all. People they… looked at them and saw stars for so long.” Crowley grimaced again, went quiet as another flash of light blazed with small intensity and faded on the demon’s cheek.

“I… Crowley did you just…. Light up?”

“Mrrrm well kinda, a little. Just one of those things I guess. Happens more in a shower like this. Glitch in the old system. Wire crossed somewhere.” He reached up and brushed nervously at the bride of his nose, right where that first light had been.

“You light up.” Aziraphale echoed back, confused.

Crowley nodded. It was slow, slightly terse, and he was smiling at the sky though that was all pain too.

“Yeah, guess. Humans thought they were stars so I guess they got lumped in with what I used to do. Crossed wires and all that. Makes sense, I guess, if She has the worst sense of humour.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Meteors, shooting stars. You know,” The hand rubbed across his face in agitation, across soft freckles. Golden marks of an angel, stars dotted across his body burning out as heaven let out from underneath him, dragged out and leaving dark marks behind. “they call them Falling stars, too. Makes sense, doesn’t it?”

Aziraphale sucked in a slow breath of understanding and heartache, dying to reach out and hold the demon.

“Sometimes I get stuff through. Wishes to fallen stars, first one to find it. Like it’s supposed to go to heaven and my broken radio somehow crossed the frequency.” Crowley chuckled but it was dark and bitter.

“What do they wish for?” Crowley blinked and turned to Aziraphale, surprise flitting across his features before it relaxed into a fond smile. A slight roll of his eyes. “This time of year? Snow mostly. Whatever they asked Santa for. Often enough for someone they love to be happy. Not much world peace, surprisingly.”

Aziraphale hummed thoughtfully. Catch a falling star. Winner gets a wish to the fallen star maker. He concentrated on the sky until his eyes adjusted and could pick up small, far falling stars.

A glow soft but real under Crowley’s thin shirt. A line of nine freckles over his heart. Nine stars. Nine lights. One directly above the left ventricle setting Crowley’s pupil’s constricting. Desire and disbelief mingling.

Find some happiness for him. The joy he brings to me. All of it if you can but even a little; if he could even feel a little of it. He deserves so much more, much better. Words for what this has been for so long.

Make a wish.

“Yeah I see it.” Crowley croaks, eyes just a little wild as he looks at Aziraphale intensely. “Lets hope they don’t actually go upstairs. Always assumed it got up there eventually even if it went through me. Don’t want them seeing what a principality might want if it’s not bright paper packages tied up with string.” He grins but it’s tense and the flicker of his eyes checks around them instinctively for eyes. For ducks with ears.

“No. Sometimes, though, you know,” Aziraphale winds the ring around his pinky and it might be screwing his courage to the sticking place or it might be trying to force down the words beneath the surface. There’s silence for a while but there’s often silence between them and it sits between them a comfortable old friend.

“I sometimes wonder if they check at all.” It’s so low Crowley could have easily missed it. He doesn’t move, in case it reminds Aziraphale that he shouldn’t have a bad word about heaven. “So much to do, you see. Can’t even answer all the prayers so they couldn’t possibly have the time for frivolous wishes.

Crowley bites his tongue against words he Can Not say. Even yours? Never had the time for you. Leave it to me. I’ll hear you. Anything at all, especially that. Christmas all year ‘round, a permanent ceasefire. Peace talks with mistletoe and a side of our own.

“Yeah I guess it is like that. Sure someone’s listening though.” He eventually dares to look over to where the angel is; watery eyes glued to the stars and mouth set into a hard line to hold back… Hold back everything that made him so much better than any other angel.

“I know the best one’s listening.”

[muses-darling]

Fire & Fury - A Star Wars AU - Ch.8 Engineer

Tracing his pen across the screen watching the display come to life as line after line met his design coming to life. Prototypes of various inventions littered the shelves of his office a partially drunk very cold mug of caf sat undisturbed. Humming as he sketched he brushed a lock of ginger hair from his face. So far today had been less than exciting but that was perhaps the best for productivity? He pushed back from the desk stretching standing feeling his joints move into place after being sedentary for so long. His muscles remembered what moving felt like with pain. He really ought to move more often. His stomach growled again and he knew why he had gotten up, a brain thought better with food in the belly. He also needed more caf, opening the door of his office he noticed nothing out of the ordinary till a realization that the whole facility had gone eerily quiet like the dead. Peering around gave him no insight, he boarded the lift tapping the buttons and giving a imput of his code cylinder he made his way down to the kitchens. Halfway through the lift flickered then came to an abrupt stop. 

A glow of heated metal came through the lift door just a small part that almost as if by cutting continued in a circle before the force pulled the whole chunk away revealing a trio of what looked to be Sith. 

“No- no NO!” He threw the cup of cold caf at them watching it freeze in the air and shatter as one stopped it. 

“Hello Casper.” Darth Ceres smiled her hood concealing all but her mouth of her face. “We need someone of your expertise.”

________________________________________________________________

“I do not believe it is wise to go all the way to the Chorlian system,” Will said from where he stood at the center of the Senate floor. “Meeting the Sith on their doorstep. Is foolishness, it is genocide of our troops. What hope of victory can we possibly bring? We have not experienced an attack from the Sith in quite some time. To mount an attack after this peace we have seemingly felt is to incur their wrath.”

“Ah like the planet you serve Senator always looking for the peace where there is none.” A Senator mocked him.

Will turned, “I agree that the peace is only temporary, we should use it to give aid where it is needed. Rebuild, was Coruscant not just a mere few months ago under siege? What rebuilding effort have we made since? There are people on not just this planet but many others who cry out for help and we offer no aid when we can?”

“We are spread too thin besides now may be the most opportune moment to bring about the peace we seek by striking a blow on the Sith while their guard is down.”

“I tell you their guard is not down.” Will glared at them.

“What do you know of their guard Senator? What do you know of the Sith?” The Chancellor asked him.

“I-” 

“Precisely, this attack is advised by the Jedi even, they too want this war done and over with. If we crumble this wall we will end this before long peace will be at hand and we can do as you suggest Senator.” The Chancellor told him.

Will wanted nothing more than to give them all a taste of his mind but he had the people to think about. “Then I move that when this is over that we focus our efforts to rebuilding the Republic.” 

“I second,” The Senator of Alderaan said.

Will looked to Adrienne and smiled, she was always on his side. 

“Then we put it to a vote.” The Chancellor said.

The vote of course went to the affirmative but only for appearance sake. They would squabble and nothing would come of it. Will moved through the crowd feeling Adrienne touch his arm. 

“A moment?”

Will looked to her, “Of course.”

“I will be helping hand out rations today and wondered if you would join me? Perhaps if the people see that there are at least some Senators who care they won’t feel as abandoned?”

“You say Senators like there will be more than the two of us?”

“The Senator of Chandrilla and the Senator of Hapes Consortium will be joining as well.”

Will nodded. “I’ll see what I can do besides helping pass out rations, I’m sure there are some clothes and blankets to be found.” 

“That would be marvelous.” Adrienne smiled warmly. “How is the Queen?”

“Jane- Queen Ev’lyn is quite healthy.”

“And the pregnancy?” She asked quieter. 

“Our children were born without any problems. I get to see them when I make communications to Naboo.” Will smiled pulling out a small disk of a Holo photo showing twins who were at least six months old. 

“How precious.” Adrienne smiled.

“My daughter has a variation of your middle name for hers.” 

“Rosaline?”

“Rosemary.” Will smiled. “Her first name is Katherine.”

“And your son?”

“Abra’ham Fitzwilliam,” Will grinned.

“Oh Will that is so sweet.”  

________________________________________________________________

Hades was not the only one to tag Kit with some form of tracking, Crowley had done the same but with the force. Following it’s signature to the planet of Eadu the wild storms that ravaged the planet fit well with the current state of Crowley’s nerves. “Stay here,” He told Ben and Harper. “Guard the ship, guard Jules.” 

“But-” Ben started before Aziraphale fixed him with a look. “We don’t know what is out there and we don’t know who has Kit, right now we need you both here with Juliet.”

Crowley and Aziraphale moved silently and stealthily along the path curving through the cliff side. Rocks fell from the path way to the chasm below but neither one noticed their focus was elsewhere, elsewhere and keeping them from joining those rocks to smash upon their likeness far below. Lightning illuminated their way as they moved from one stretch of the path to the other. The path opened up revealing a research facility. 

Entering in as quiet as possible they made their way through the dimly lit building the silence broken by the thunder and nothing else. A console before them held security footage. “Angel guard me while I have a look.”

Aziraphale wanted to protest but knew there had to be a reason for Crowley keeping him from looking. Crowley was always good at knowing these things. 

Fingers flashed upon buttons and the screen till Crowley froze his face gave nothing away but his eyes they betrayed him first. 

“Crowley?” Azirphale asked his eyes looking to Crowley.

Crowley looked up, “Aziraphale...” 

It was all he had to say, his face now gave everything away. From the way that his lips twinged in sadness, to the way his eyes moved between what they saw on the screen to Aziraphale. The little head shake of disbelief, the tremble of lips that told Azirphale that what Crowley was feeling was strong so strong it swept the mask of calm away. 

Aziraphale moved to see the screen but Crowley pressed a button blackening the screen.Things moved slowly, “We missed him.” He said to Aziraphale. “We missed him!” Crowley stood up only for the weight of what he had seen. Aziraphale to catch him.

Aziraphale knew what he was going to see wasn’t going to sit well with him but seeing Crowley like this he had too. Curious Angel, he tapped a button watching as Kit stood before a cowering man only to cut him down, the audio wasn’t there but anyone could see the man had pleaded before Kit slew him. Kit walked up to the camera blood covering his face grinning with terrible Sith eyes then the feed cut out. Azirphale heard Crowley sobbing in his arms as his own tears fell into the forest of ginger hair that grew from his husband’s head. “Oh Kit.” What could have happened to him? What could have turned him? They had trained him so well!

The door came skittering off the hinges stopping at just before them as a sleek bronze colored droid entered. “Greetings: Hello Meatbags! I have come for my master.” 

Aziraphale frowned at the odd droid before moving from Crowley towards the strange droid. He grabbed the blaster yanking it away from blasting him and reaching behind he knew the model well, he had read about them and with a flick the droid powered down. 

When it powered back up HK-47 looked up from his powered down state. “Greetings: Salutations organic, might I be made aware of where my Master has gone? My last readings sense he was here. Have you seen him?”

“Most peculiar,” Aziraphale said studying him. “Kit never mentioned you.”

“I have had many masters.”

“And who is your creator?”

“Statement: Why Hades better known as Lord Ignis.” HK-47 said.

“I think I preferred him slightly more homicidal.”

“Oh hush,” Azirphale waved Crowley’s suggestion away. “I think he is more charming this way.”

“Agreement: But I cannot fathom hurting organics such as you in my current state I love all organics with every fiber of my wiring.” HK-47 said to Crowley. “Charm is not in my programming originally but I am adaptable.”

“Excellent!” Aziraphale smiled. “Do you have a ship?”

“Answer: No mine was destroyed upon getting here.”

“Then you shall have to come aboard ours.”

“OURS!?” Crowley said standing up. “I’ll have you know that is very much my ship!”

Azirphale fixed Crowley with a look.

Crowley crossed his arms. “And just what do you think that I’m going to let it anywhere near Juliet?”

“Do you want to find Kit?”

“Yes.” Crowley said as if it were obvious before looking at the Droid who had said yes in unison with him.

“Then I suppose unless you have any better ideas you just let me adopt the robot for the time being.”

“Droid Azirphale no one calls them robots.”

Aziraphale smiled a smile that told you that he knew he had won before walking back to the ship. 

Hk-47 followed Azirphale complimenting him on his ability to out maneuver the droid in close combat.

Aziraphale returned the compliment with one about the droid standing up to two jedi.

This was followed by HK-47 making a comment about killing jedi with no problem.

Azirphale chose to treat this like a joke patted the droid on the arm and told him that it was refreshing to hear someone who had a sense of humor.

Crowley both loved that smug expression and wanted to kiss it off of that cherubic face.  Watching the two leave and getting along like old friends was an odd sight to anyone who didn’t know Azirphale who saw the best in anyone. Crowley looked back at the console a shudder. Looking back at his husband and the droid in the distance with an exasperated sigh Crowley threw up his hands following after both too his ship mouthing, ‘unless you have any better ideas.’ Followed by, ‘I’ll show you a better idea.’