#something something aziraphale giving up everything he's built up over the last 6000 years

[one-awesome-beetle]

[but-the-library-of-alexandria]

I have some thoughts about Good Omens, Crowley and Aziraphale and Change. Maybe all this is obvious but indulge me anyway. 

One of the many ways that C&A are visually presented as opposites - one of the subtler ones, I think - is that Crowley’s appearance changes frequently. Crowley’s aesthetic and his everyday lifestyle is in many ways defined by his changeability. He has a few favourite pieces, but he seems to wake up each morning and find something new and on-trend to wear. He has a new haircut every few years and a few times he(?) changes his gender presentation for a while, too. Sure, he has an old-fashioned answerphone and a vintage car, but those things are pretty on-trend right now, and he also has a smartphone, a fancy TV and a chic, relatively modern home. His modernity, in every era, relies on making frequent changes to everything he owns, and himself. 

Hell, one of the first things we see Crowley do is change: 

The next we hear of him, he’s changed his name. He’s changed it again when we see him in the forties, and both times there’s a whole little dialogue around it, just to make it more conspicuous. 

And Aziraphale? Well, he literally wears the same jacket for over a hundred years. He’s had the same haircut for all of time. Aziraphale’s aesthetic - both in terms of his own clothes and in his home/bookshop/favourite places - is defined by the old-fashioned and preserved. His whole earthly life has been built around preserving antiques - the bookshop, that jacket again:

Aziraphale also never seems to change his name. He presumably has a human alias, but it’s only used once (the Nazis call him ‘Mr. Fell’) and his false forenames are never revealed, except that the initials are A.Z (according to the sign over his bookshop). He generally seems to go by Aziraphale or nothing at all; he doesn’t seem to have given a name at all to Shadwell, while Crowley invented yet another alias to deal with him. 

Doesn’t this reflect their different attitudes to bigger things as well? 

Crowley is all for carving out a new path pretty much the moment the apocalypse shows it’s face on earth, while Aziraphale, the dude who said ‘you go too fast for me’ after 6000 years, waits until the very last minute to give up on going the approved, official route. 

It’s change Crowley threatens Aziraphale with to scare him into helping stop the apocalypse - the loss of his routine, the things he loves, his old things, old books and old clothes. The end of the world would promise an enormous change, even if ‘good’ were to win the war and create some kind of paradise. 

Of course, they’re both in this because they like their familiar lives on earth and don’t want to lose that, but it seems to be lack of change Crowley fears: 

Perhaps progress, new experiences, and constant stimulation are what Crowley likes best about being on earth, as opposed to the timeless stagnation of either heaven or hell. Aziraphale, meanwhile, likes to live in a bit of a cocoon, at least in the modern day: he’s not keeping up with the latest music or technology, just basking in the things humans have already created. 

This isn’t to say that Aziraphale doesn’t change at all. In fact, he adapts his look to the current fashions for thousands of years in episode three: a new, usually quite showy, outfit for almost every era of history.

The moment he startings settling into his Forever Look is sometime during The Breakup - here he is on that day, wearing his soon-to-be signature jacket:

and again, in the forties, in almost the same outfit:

and sporting the same Look for this infamous moment:

And he sticks with it into the modern day. 

He stops changing around the time he starts to get scared about how things are going. Earlier in time - pre-Arrangement and into the earlier stages of the Arrangement era - he seems happy enough to move with the times, fashion-wise and in terms of culture. It’s only when shit starts getting real with this whole thing he has going with Crowley - when Crowley starts asking for holy water and breaking into churches, and making it clear that what they’re doing is dangerous but that he doesn’t plan to let that stop him - that Aziraphale starts looking for more stability and clinging to ‘the old days’. 

That iconic line fits this whole Change theme perfectly: at some point in time,  Aziraphale was happy to be swept along, but when he’s hit with the very real possibility of his and Crowley’s destruction, all of a sudden it’s all about keeping things how they are, or even how they were, in defiance of a future where things look to be getting more and more dangerous for them. Perhaps the sweet spot was right there in the Victorian era, after their formative lunch date in Paris but just before the holy water debacle that made Aziraphale back-pedal - so he wears the jacket that belonged to that ideal time forever. 

Crowley has the opposite approach to being faced with possible destruction: change more! Explore new avenues of self-defence, new ways of living and of being! Get hold of holy water, stop the apocalypse, form a whole new ‘side’ distinct from either heaven or hell! But Aziraphale conspicuously struggles to accept Crowley’s changes, struggling with his new names, getting confused by his new-fashioned music and slang, and of course, his proposed changes to their relationship over the course of the years.

And I think it’s this dichotomy, more than the good/evil, angel/demon one, that causes most of the tension in their relationship. I’m gonna promote this post again for Good Shit relating to this: basically the idea that crowley’s reaction to danger is to commit to your stance and prepare some ways to survive the inevitable consequences, whereas Aziraphale’s reaction is to put the brakes on whatever you’re doing wrong and try not to get into any more trouble. 

Aziraphale’s instinct to hold back, to look back to a time before the trouble started - his instinct to stop things from getting worse, and to keep everything that’s working well, everything he’s comfortable with, exactly as it is, clashes with Crowley’s instinct to keep adapting and moving forward to stay ahead of the game. And isn’t that the real difference between angels and demons: fidelity to the status quo vs. questioning and pushing boundaries?

And I just love that you can see all this in their clothes.   

[ladyoutlier]

Nothing too original but: Some first date / first kiss would be lovely! Oh and also Crowley in cute panic mode when Aziraphale finally catches up to him romantically.

Read on AO3

It had been seventeen hours and 42 minutes since Aziraphale had told Crowley that he loved him. The demon would have the time memorized down to the second, but he had been too stunned by the returned declaration of love that the second, and quite a few more, had passed before he had regained his composure.

And after that moment, time had slipped away. Ooey gooey, mind-melting, light-headedness of having 6000 years worth of pining finally pay off would do that even to Satan himself. Y’know, if Satan ever found himself in that position—which was far from likely, although no one really knew who the Antichrist’s mother was. Crowley was exceptionally vulnerable to it, but Aziraphale did that to him. Made him lose his composure, even if it usually was only internally.

At some point the sun had risen, and a night full of talking about things Crowley never thought he would say out loud had passed. At roughly eight sharp, Aziraphale had suggested that Crowley go off to water his plants and meet him back here at his bookshop at three. Perhaps they would spend the afternoon somewhere. Perhaps Hyde Park. He didn’t say first date directly, but they both knew that’s what it was. They had their own wordless way of speaking that only a millennium or two of frequent interactions could create.

Crowley did not water his plants at his flat. There was so much more to do. Planning. Oh so much planning. How did dates even work? He had his fair share of seduction jobs in the past, but those didn’t really follow up with an ongoing relationship. Dates were practically as foreign to him as Heaven itself. You dress up for them, yeah? But a park was hardly a place to sport a penguin suit. Bring flowers? That’s a thing. There’s a whole language to that though. Certain flowers mean specific things, and as big of a plant enthusiast as Crowley was, he had no idea what meant what. Ask a flower person? Botanists? No, they were called florists. There had to be one of those nearby. Did he have time for that? Surely. Worst case, he’d miracle himself some more.

Would it be too cheesy for him to play “Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy” on the ride? Yeah, probably. He really should’ve thought this out more. Well, he did. Quite a lot over the centuries. But all those thoughts found themselves submerged deep within himself to face tortures worse than the most vile punishments of Hell. He could vow for that.

If he had known that he actually had a shot with Aziraphale—that one day they’d be actually be going on a date together—maybe he would’ve let those thoughts play out a bit more. If he had properly started preparing for this as early as the Wall of Eden, he’d probably be a whole lot more confident and a whole lot more calm right now. He couldn’t stop pacing around.

Maybe flowers were too cliche. Too puppy love teenager mushy rubbish. But a gift was necessary. That’s what these things were all about. A thank you for giving a horrible demon a chance. A symbol of love. Yeah, that was still weird. Aziraphale really did love him. Wow. Isn’t that something? Might as well have dumped a bucket of holy water on him because that thought alone melts him into a pool on the linoleum.

He could always steal that book back from that American girl with the glasses. Aziraphale had really liked that thing, although he probably wouldn’t be all that happy with him immorally acquiring it. AH! If his heart could calm down for just three seconds, he could think a bit clearer. Maybe he’d just get rid of it. Not like he needed it after all. But that wouldn’t be very nice. Not that he wanted to be nice. Just he wouldn’t even be here without that infernal organ.

He could pull a Van Gogh but instead of an ear just give Aziraphale his whole heart. Two problems solved: the irritating beating and the present. Problem with that was that Aziraphale already had his heart.

He needed something with weight to it. Something that showed Aziraphale both how long and how much he loved him. Something one of a kind, but not flashy or showy. Aziraphale wasn’t one for things like that.

He had to have something that fit those qualifications. He kept quite a few souvenirs over the centuries. But did any of them—oh. Oh, he had the perfect thing.

*

“Hey boy where do you get it from

Hey boy where did you go?

I learned my passion in the good old fashioned school of loverboys”

“Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy” did end up playing on the drive although Crowley swore the disc he picked wasn’t a Queen album. The demon was really glad that he had red hair because that certainly helped hide the pink tinge the tips of his ears had taken.

Aziraphale had been silent regarding the song except for a brief “Lovely tune, isn’t it?” before going back to talking about all sorts of things Crowley could listen to all day. The angel could be talking absolute bollocks, and he would still hang on every word.

Although Hyde Park wasn’t nearly as lovely as St. James’s Park, the change of scenery was very much appreciated. Plus, a new location very much fit with the theme of them being on a new level of their relationship. Aziraphale and Crowley found themselves on a nice bench in front of the river. An enormous tree rested in the middle of the path beside them. It seemed that instead of disrupting the giant, the humans had simply built around it. One of the rare examples of their environmental consciousness.

Of course, no appropriate first date at the park would be complete without a picnic lunch, and Aziraphale had thought of just that. He ruffled through his basket, which Crowley had called grandmotherly, and pulled out a few cucumber sandwiches. It was a light lunch, but for one, they didn’t actually need to eat, and two, they were likely to find themselves at some place for dinner in only a handful of hours.

Whether or not Crowley was one for eating was no one else’s business. It was also no one’s business how he ate if he did. As such, whether or not he actually ate the cucumber sandwich and how in that case it was devoured, remains a mystery. All that is known is that said sandwich was gone before Aziraphale had gotten halfway through his which wasn’t that surprising considering that the angel is a horribly slow eater.

“You know, this river’s called The Serpentine,” Aziraphale said, wiping his face with a handkerchief. “Thought you would find that amusing.”

Crowley leaned onto the back of the bench and scoffed. “That why you wanted to go here?”

“Maybe.”

Crowley grinned. The mood was playful. The atmosphere was calming. They had a nice lunch. There wasn’t a human in sight. Everything was grand. If now wasn’t the time, when was?

“Got you something, angel.”

The demon reached into his jacket and pulled out something wrapped in a silky black (for what other color would it be?) cloth. Aziraphale eyed him with a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth before he took the gift. As he unwrapped it, Crowley turned to look out over the oddly named river. Still, thanks to his sunglasses, his eyes were on Aziraphale.

As the last of the fabric fell away, what was left behind was a small display box. Like one a person would use for a scientific sample of a raw gemstone. Through the see-through lid of the box, the angel could see a chunk of white stone. It wasn’t natural or glittery in nature. No, it looked man-made as if it once belonged in the entrance of a grand bank.

“Thank you, dear.” He turned the box over in his hand. “Although I do think I’d be a bit more appreciative if I, um, knew exactly what it was.”

“‘S part of the Eastern Gate.” Crowley stretched out on the bench. The more relaxed his posture was, the more he could pretend this was an everyday occurrence.

“Oh, Crowley. You don’t mean Eden’s Eastern Gate?”

“Course I do. Was where I met you. Place was collapsing after Adam and Eve got evicted.”

“Do think that was your fault, love.”

“I merely offered them an alternative. Entirely their fault they chose it. But anyways, figured God didn’t care much for the upkeep of the place considering that the wall could hardly be serving a purpose crumbled down, so I took a brick.”

“And you’ve managed to carry it around for quite literally all of time?”

“Well, not on my person but yes. It’s a good memory. Part with you I mean. The rest was pretty bland.”

“And you’re just giving it to me?”

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t I? Don’t need it anymore now that I got you.”

Someone else might have not been able to tell whether Crowley’s remark was meant as a compliment or not, but to Aziraphale, who knew the demon’s tendency to give nuanced comments of admiration, it was dreadfully obvious what he meant. One does not simply have something for 6000 years and just give it up like it’s nothing. Aziraphale doubted there even was anything else left of the Wall of Eden besides this piece. Centuries of weathering and erosion would have ensured that. This was more than a time capsule. It was all that was left of the beginning. The only thing that could bring them back to their first moments together. And Crowley had given it to him just like that. The angel only regretted that he had nothing to give the demon in return.

“I’m at a loss for words. This is so sweet, Crowley. I really just can’t believe you’ve been holding on to it for all this time.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Aziraphale found himself doing something he very much wanted to but didn’t actually tell himself to do. He leaned over to the demon, still cupping the box in his hands, and kissed him right on the cheek. “Thank you.”

If Crowley thought his pink ears in the car was bad, he should’ve had a mirror for this moment. His complexion rivaled that of Satan’s in the red department. Somehow his sunglasses found themselves slid down the bridge of his nose. He was quite literally petrified. Maybe not as much as last night when his relationship with Aziraphale had started, but it was a close second.

“Too much?” Aziraphale asked, hesitantly.

“Do—do it again,” Crowley fumbled out as his mouth began to work once more.

“Gladly.”

The angel pulled him into another kiss, but this time, instead of landing on the cheek, it met with his lips. One would think that after 6 millennia of longing, nothing could live up to that desire. One would be very wrong. 

They held each other in a kiss that went on and on. Hands became involved, and they bound together as if they were always meant to be one. A shard of Eden was the only thing between them. And what happened next? Well, that’s their own personal business.

[angstalottle]

Puddle Trouble

@taylortut finally did that prompt

Since the invention of the telephone and almost instant exchange of contact information between the two Aziraphel and Crowley had never had a polite and what some would consider normal conversation over the phone.

This mainly stems from the fact that after knowing each other for over 6000 years the two had built up their own back and forth that didn't involve such things as small talk and needless pleasantries that humans clung to with even those they knew the best.

So of course when Aziraphel heard Crowley’s voice at a normal volume and not screaming profanities down the line he knew something was very wrong.

The mention of an old friend only added to the worry since the last friend the angel had ever known him to have was Freddie Mercury and even that had only ever been Crowley showing up randomly backstage at concerts.

No one other than Aziraphel had ever been inside the flat since it was bought in the 60s.

In that moment, the end of the world could wait, his demon needed him.

Aziraphale grabbed his coat and ran out of the door in such a state of worry he didn't think twice about a little miracle to help him get to the flat in only a matter of moments rather than the ten minute run it would have taken otherwise.

As he hurried the stairs never seemed so long or the door so heavy as when they stood between Crowley and him.

Finally though, panting and gasping for breath, he reached the top and felt his fear double instantly.

The door was left open ever so slightly.

Considering the door was never left without any less than five locks this was concerning in itself. But what really did it for Aziraphel was the smell.

It was a smell he knew very well that once filled him with a scene of peace and hope only made cold hard dread settle in his stomach.

It was holy water.

Part of him wanted to run back to his shop and try ringing again. To just hope that everything is fine and he would end up waking Crowley up to talk his ear off for a while.

His legs never felt so heavy as when he forced himself to the door and nudged it open with his foot.

An image of Crowley sat at his desk smirking with his legs up on the ridiculously expensive desk as he tortured one of his poor plants played across Aziraphel’s mind.

Instead, all he saw was a flask.

A flask that for a moment he didn't recognise.

Then the smell of the holy water hit him again and it all came crashing quite terribly into place.

He gave it to Crowley to keep him safe and now…

Without thinking Aziraphel took a step into the room stepping right into a puddle of mush that caused him to slip and fall to the ground.

Taking a moment to rub his bruised elbow tried to comprehend what happened. Of course, that's when he saw them.

A pair of black sunglasses laying near the puddle he had just slipped in. Glasses that no one else in the world would wear as religiously as Crowley.

With a shaking hand, he reached out and picked them up.

A droplet of water fell to the ground and Aziraphel simply stared at it.

“No… Crowley? Crowley dear where are you?” he threw the glasses to the ground and scrambled upright.

He began frantically searching the flat looking in every possible hiding place Crowley could possibly be in human or snake form.

He didn't stop until he turned the desk apart and ended up knocking the accursed flask to the ground.

“Crowley please… please I need you,” he whispered slowly sinking to the ground pulling his legs into his chest and wrapped his arms around himself.

“Oh my dear what have I done. If I… if I had just listened to you we could have been in the stars right now. You figured it out didn't you? You knew that we didn't need to save the world to be happy that all we needed was each other. I'm a fool a fool… I'm so sorry my dear I should have been here.” Aziraphale whispered steadily growing louder and louder until he was shouting, tears streaming down his cheeks.

It wasn't fair!

IT WASN'T FAIR!

Hadn't he been a good soldier?

Always tried to do the right thing and follow God's laws and now they took Crowley from him as payment for his thousands of years of service.

“H-how dare you!” Aziraphale yelled staring up at the ceiling as though that would get his message through to god easier.

“HOW DARE YOU TAKE HIM FROM ME!” he screamed, “He was the love of my life and you fucking killed him!”

Rematerializing back in his flat Crowley wasn't sure what shocked him more.

The fact that in less than five minutes his entire flat had been torn apart like a pack of wild dogs had been set loose, hearing Aziraphel swear for the first time since… well ever. Or just the little thing of hearing that his angel loved him.

However what won out was seeing Aziraphel crying, he decided that nothing else mattered until that was sorted out.

“Angel?” Crowley asked softly as he placed a hand on his shoulder.

It took Aziraphale exactly two seconds to process who was with him and to launch himself at him in a hug tackling his demon to the ground.

“Crowley! I… I thought you were! I… don't you ever do that to me again!” he yelled through his voice was muffled thanks to burying his face into the other man's shirt.

Crowley simply sat there stunned holding him as he took in the scene. Most importantly the puddle next to the door.

“I'm so sorry Angel I never wanted you to see this. Hells calling for my head and well this was my escape plan.” he gestured to the flask as Aziraphel sniffed pulling himself away from him.

“Oh my dear why didn't you tell me?”

Crowley shrugged “seemed like it was too dangerous, that it would have gotten you in trouble with heaven. I didn't want to risk losing you.”

Aziraphale reached up and ran his thumb along Crolweys jawline “My dear i would happily fight both heaven and hell to stay by your side. Give me a little credit won't you.”

Crowley stared in shock for a minute before a smirk crossed his face “fight heaven and hell?” Now that sounds like a plan huh? Hows about we go put a stop to the apocalypse then?”

Aziraphale smiled standing up and offering Crowley his hand “to the world.”

Crowley smiled taking the hand and pulling himself up.

“To the world.”

[anotherhawk]

5 Times Crowley Died Carelessly (And 1 Time Aziraphale Insisted on Caring) Ch1 - Good Omens Fanfiction

Summary: The fire in the bookshop was the first time Crowley had ever experienced the horror and loss of suddenly and violently being the only occult/celestial being on Earth. Aziraphale, on the other hand, has had plenty of chances to get used to that feeling over the previous 6000 years. Spoiler alert: he hasn't got used to it. Not even a little bit.

Warning for repeated temporary character death and an exceptionally loose and inaccurate account of the Book of Genesis

This should be 6 chapters. You can read it on AO3 here or click the read more below.

He wasn't sure just why he had followed Cain out into the east. If anyone asked he'd probably say that the first murderer seemed an ideal figure to hang around, what with his general remit being to cause trouble and everything. Truthfully he just hadn't really known what else to do. He couldn't have stayed - there. The grief of Eve and Adam had been too much for him to bear.

Most of the time he stayed in his snake form, slithering along in Cain's shadow, unseen or at least unacknowledged, keeping the worst of the weather and the wild animals away from the human and, discreetly bringing him food and water on those occasions when Cain spent more than a day or so lying under a tree, staring dry-eyed at his hands.

Every time he thought about showing himself – saying something. But he couldn’t imagine what he could say that could possibly make any of this better, and he could easily imagine plenty of things he could say which would make it worse. No, the thing of it was, he didn’t understand what had happened. Not really. He didn’t understand and he was pretty sure he was the one responsible.

Eventually Cain cried less and walked more, finally coming to a beach where he built himself a little hut out of assorted tree bits woven together and took up fishing. It wasn’t much of a life, all told, but then no one had much of a life really. There should be more than this, shouldn’t there? What was any of this supposed to accomplish?

As always his questions went unanswered.

With an uncomfortable pang he left Cain behind and spread his wings to fly across the ocean. From there he sort of just kept going – flying, walking, slithering , whatever it took to keep moving and not have to stop and think. Days, turned to nights, turned to days again, and the weather got colder until eventually the rains fell frozen from the sky and gathered in heaps so white they reminded him of Heaven and he hated it. They burned too, in a way that fire didn’t, and at the foot of a mountain range he stuck his hand deep into a drift, wondering if this was holy. It wasn't, he eventually decided. It was just cold.

He gazed up at the clouds obscuring the mountain top. Maybe the view would be clearer from the top. Maybe he'd be able to look across the world and understand what it was all for. Maybe, if he was that high up, She wouldn’t be able to ignore him anymore.1

He decided to climb the mountain on his own two feet, or at least the feet he was currently manifesting. Felt like it was the sort of experience you should work for, and the burn of the ice on his feet distracted him from everything inside his head.

It quickly became apparent that this was more of a struggle than he’d been expecting. In spite of his stern words to the contrary his corporation keep insisting that it needed more and better air to breathe than was available. As a sort of revenge he stopped breathing at all, but developed a splitting headache after an hour or two. And the cold just got worse, the wind biting right through his robes until he couldn’t feel his fingers or toes at all, and his body just wouldn’t stop shaking.

Staring vaguely at the white blotches covering his fingers, he sat down heavily on a miraculously handy rock outcrop, sticking out of the snow field. Just a few moments rest and then he'd either carry on or head back down.

The snow was falling thicker again. He tilted his head back and looked up. “What iss thiss all about?” he asked, scowling as his tongue felt more clumsy in his mouth than usual. Really this body was more trouble than it was worth. “Was it my fault?” he wondered forlornly, and he could pretend he was talking to the uncaring sky, rather than an uncaring anyone else.

He'd spent time with both Cain and Abel as they'd been growing up. Keeping an eye on them, enjoying the day to day family drama. He'd been fascinated when instead of joining his parents in foraging in the forest Cain had started collecting seeds and planting them, letting food grow on the first family's doorstep instead of having to go off and find it. He'd taken to following Cain around his fields and orchards, asking what he was doing and offering suggestions until finally Cain had shoved a couple of stick tools at him and told him to help.

Well, helping wasn't the sort of thing he was supposed to do, but he figured that any way of getting close to the humans was probably alright. 2 So sometimes he and Cain would sit and talk in the fields at the end of the day, watching the sunset. And sometimes Cain would complain about his brother, about being overlooked, and about favouritism and, well, he had never been anyone's favourite anything, and so he sympathised, he really did.

 He sympathised. And he was supposed to stir up trouble. And he'd been bored. So yes, he'd egged Cain on a bit. He'd wanted some fireworks, metaphorically speaking. A bit of a barney, a good old-fashioned family argument with everyone drawn in and taking sides.

 He'd never imagined what could happen. He'd never seen it coming.

 Of course he knew about mortality, there had been plenty of animal deaths by this point. If it came to that he'd seen angels die in the War, and even more die in the Fall. But this had been different. He'd watched Cain and Abel grow up. He'd seen them running and playing together, seen Abel cry in sympathy when Cain fell and bloodied his knee, and he'd seen Cain give up his last few figs to share with his brother. He'd thought they loved each other. He'd thought he understood that at least. But he'd seen Abel lying there on the ground, his face frozen in eternal surprise, and he'd seen Cain standing over him, the rock in his hand, and he'd realised he didn't understand  anything.

 It was only a few words. Only a little temptation. “They are made in your image though, aren't they?” he shouted into the storm. “I suppose overreacting is part of the design!” He stood up dramatically, arms thrown wide and immediately got buffeted off his perch by the wind and swept a little way down the mountain.4 He picked himself up and trudged doggedly back up the mountain. “Where was I?” he asked blearily, trying and failing to find his rock. At least he wasn't shivering now. Small mercies and all that. Actually he didn't even feel that cold anymore. Clearly he was getting the hang of this corporation lark. He looked up towards the top of the mountain. Might as well press on then, really.

 He wished he'd said something else to Cain. Wished he'd said something afterwards. Eve's scream echoed through his mind.

 Cain had been cast out. Cursed. So this couldn't have been part of the divine plan, could it? All of this, all of the little family's suffering, this wasn't by Heaven's design. He had seen the shock and horror on Aziraphale's face, had been certain it was mirrored on his own. Not Heaven's design, and it couldn't be Hell's because  he  was Hell's agent and he hadn't  meant  to. It had just been a few words... But that left it being something Cain had chosen to do himself, and that couldn't be right, could it? He'd loved his brother, hadn't he? If it was a choice, why make  that  one?

 Snow was falling on his face. The ice was hot against his back. He'd just lie here for a minutes more then he'd get up and be on his way. He'd just -

  1Actually if we accept that She is omnipotent we must accept that She is capable of ignoring anything She chooses to. However if we accept that She is omniscient then we must accept that She is also constantly aware of everything that She is actively ignoring. In this way, as in many others, we should probably accept that the demon-who-will-be-known-as-Crowley is something of a headache for all concerned.

2This was the same logic that he had earlier used to justify being Eve's first choice of babysitter on date nights. His angelic counterpart3 kept a dignified distance. Crowley invented peek-a-boo, claiming he was taunting the babies for not understanding object permanence.

3Aziraphale.

4It's possible this could be considered a minor form of divine smiting as a punishment for insolence. It's more probable that it was simply weather. It may even be possible that were we to suppose divine influence in this moment that it was intended as a message along the lines of 'Get off the blessed mountain you bloody idiot, you're literally a snake, you're sitting in a blizzard, and you're not even wearing shoes.'

 It had been the first truly harsh winter and Aziraphale had been kept busy. Eve was expecting again and now.... now the boys were gone the little family had struggled to survive. He'd started off trying to be circumspect about his miracles but in the end he'd just made sure that the fields yielded a full harvest whether anyone was tending them or not, and even then as winter wore on far too long he'd resorted to miracling the food stores full again.

 It was perfectly legitimate, he told himself. The humans were struggling because of demonic action. Angelic intervention was necessary to keep them going.

 It had been demonic action, hadn't it? He'd seen the demon, Crawly, talking to Cain not long before the murder, and Gabriel had certainly been satisfied with that as an explanation. Only Aziraphale had also seen the look on the demon's face afterwards, and that hadn't been satisfaction at a job well done or even enjoyment. That had been bewilderment and grief.

 He would have liked to have had a chance to maybe talk to the demon about if after – get the other side's perspective, so to speak. But he'd been far too busy trying to help the poor parents, and by the time he'd thought about it again Crawly had gone and he hadn't come back.

 Which was fine by him, really. It stood to reason that his job would be much easier if his demonic counterpart decided not to bother doing his.

 Still, it had been a long hard winter and it wasn't surprising that he felt a little odd, he considered, as he watched the sun rising over the hillside. It was only the nature of the oddity that struck him as peculiar. 5 He felt alone, which was strange, since he'd been the only angel permanently stationed on Earth since the Garden. So that shouldn't be a new feeling at all. He'd noticed when the others left, or at the very least he'd felt their absence which was sort of the same thing. So why was it hitting him harder today? Perhaps he should check in with Heaven? He didn't have anything in particular to report, there had been nothing significant since Abel's death, and after the way Gabriel had spoken to him then, he wasn't exactly in a hurry to repeat the experience...but perhaps he should? Perhaps he was lonely. Angels  were  supposed to be social creatures after all.

 But that wasn't exactly what this felt like. It wasn't coming from him, it was coming from the world. As though some vital piece had been ripped out, leaving nothing but a jagged hole. Something was missing. Let's see, he was here, and the humans, and...oh. Oh, dear. That was about it, apart from the expected assortment of God's creatures. Just him and the humans and a jagged hole where his demonic counterpart should be.

 This was the sort of thing he should investigate, wasn't it? Heaven would surely expect a report on demonic activity. And if he focused he thought he could sense where Crawly had last been – where he'd died presumably. Or discorporated, rather? This was all so new.

 He made absolutely sure that the humans would be fine on their own for a while and set out, flying across the world in a matter of days. He could have done it faster, of course, but then someone might have noticed and he'd really rather not have to explain what he was doing every time he turned around.

 Eventually he found himself flying up the side of the tallest mountain in the world. He was well above the snow line and good gracious it was cold. He shivered and automatically performed a minor miracle to keep the air immediately surrounding him at a comfortable temperature.

 He found the remains of the demon fairly easily, thawing the ice around the sad little lump so he could dig it out of the snow. There was no sign of violence or injury. It looked as though Crawly had just laid down and died.

“What in the world were you doing up here?” he asked, knowing that he was talking to nothing but a husk of flesh, the demon himself long since departed. “And why didn't you just miracle yourself warm for heaven's sake?”

 In death the demon didn't look especially intimidating.6 In fact, if it wasn't for the pale skin and those snake eyes, Aziraphale could easily have mistaken the body for human. Remembering how Adam and Eve had acted he reached out to close the eyes over only to find that in his transition between snake and human Crawly apparently hadn't bothered to install eyelids. He clicked his tongue and smoothed out the frown lines from the brow instead. Evil was apparently troubling even to its instigators. He didn't know how to feel about that.

 There didn't seem to be anything for him to do here. This wasn't any hellish scheme, Crawly had simply got too cold and discorporated. Probably he was down in hell right now, doing whatever it was demons did on their own time. No doubt either he or another demon would be back sometime soon and the status quo would resume. In the meantime he should get back to the humans, no point in lingering here.

 He lingered there, staring down at the red curls strewn across Crawly's face. Enemy or not, empty husk or not, just leaving him here didn't feel quite proper. The remains of a demon shouldn't just be left lying around, should they? That had to be some kind of hazard. The humans might come here at some point and it might be dangerous.

 Justifications firmly in place, Aziraphale carried Crawly down the mountain and buried him beneath an apple tree.

5Not that he had much to compare it to.

6Aziraphale had never been especially intimidated by him in life either.

[impishnature]

Falling, Fallen, Fell

AO3 Fandom: Good Omens Rating: T Summary: Crowley is done. Aziraphale thinks too much or doesn’t think at all. And sometimes words can hurt. Prompts: "This isn't what I wanted' and "Please, don't shut me out." Warnings: Discussions of Falling.

I’d love to know who gave me this prompt because I had far too much fun with it <3

.

 "Do you think I wanted this?"

The clink of china hitting china reverberated through the suddenly hushed bookshop.

There was a hint of malice in the air, a storm arriving that would not be swayed to pass overhead without breaking heavy first, crackling energy igniting everything in it's path.

It had been brewing for awhile, bubbling up to strike at a moment's notice, though he had done his best to contain it. Sure the pair had known each other for over 6000 years, but that didn't mean they knew each other. They were just asking questions, dancing around subjects that before were untouchable. They had survived the apocalypse together, changed fate, left their respective sides to form something new and whole and altogether different. They could do whatever they wanted without fear now, break down barriers and reconstruct them, learn and change and shape the world that they had built for themselves.

And it seemed that for his companion that meant asking questions. And really, he of all people couldn't blame him for that.

But his angelic friend kept getting caught up on one particular subject, bringing it up over and over again in a myriad of differing ways as if his answers were not good enough. And it rankled. Set his hackles rising and his teeth grinding. Wasn't it enough to ask, did he have to dig it in? Did he have to ask over and over and still come away disappointed in him? 

Was it not enough that it had happened at all?

Or was he that oblivious, that uncaring of his pain that he felt no guilt in bringing up the past.

Over and over, time and again until finally he asked the question that snapped the final thread.

"Did you choose to fall?"

It had been like a kick to the stomach, winding him in the most awful way. As if the person before him was not the person he had thought he was all along.

How could he even think- have the slightest, insignificant notion that he would ever-

Did he really think that little of him? Was he still that much of a demon to him?

He'd only ever asked questions. He wasn't a monster... was he? Just for that?

He hated how quickly the thoughts sunk into his chest, to that bitter place that like a child asked over and over why? why? why? to a God that wasn't listening, or if she was, refused to respond.

He hated more that he had yet to stop asking, that still in the deepest, darkest recesses of his soul, a part of him still hoped for a reply.

"Choose? Choose? You think I had a choice in falling? You think I wanted to fall from grace and leave everything I knew behind? Well let me break it down for you- This isn't what I wanted, angel, far from it."

"Crowley, please, I didn't mean to offend-" Aziraphale stood, his face wide and apologetic, his hands up placatingly.

But all Crowley saw was red. Or perhaps what blurred his vision was more tangible than he would like anyone to believe.

"No? Oh, of course you didn't!" Sarcasm dripped like poison from his lips, a hiss of something deeper overtaking his words even as he cursed his serpentine tongue for it's intrusion. "Then what exactly did you mean, angel? Because from here it seems pretty offensive."

"I just-" Aziraphale sighed, hands twisting in front of him as if he needed to move but didn't know quite what to do with himself. "You said it yourself that you sauntered into Hell, so I just- I thought you might enlighten me on what you meant, but you don't have to- I really didn't mean to-"

Crowley stared at him, his thoughts and feelings warring with one another. How could the angel be so apologetic but have no idea what he had done? He seemed to care but if he was asking these questions in the first place, it felt like he barely knew him at all. There was something bigger here. Something that begged the question as to why. Why did Aziraphale want to know? Why was he so insistent?

Why- Why- Why-

He was always so good at asking why.

"Of course I said that." The words came out quiet, laced with cold indifference as his friend's head snapped back up to his. "What else was I going to say? I don't know why I fell? I don't know why what I did was bad enough to fall along with everyone else? You said it yourself-" His words turned bitter, Aziraphale's face morphing even further into despair. "-It must be bad, or you wouldn't have tempted them to do it."

"Oh- Oh, Crowley- I really do put my foot in it, don't I?"

"It hurt, you know. To fall." He felt more than saw Aziraphale's distress, on his peripherals, as his mind slipped back to a time long gone by.

"Please- please, don't."

The words fell flat against him, useless and weak. "Sauntered- such a nice way of putting it, so much easier to swallow. All pretence, pretend just like the rest of them that you'd rather this. That Heaven was so much worse- I've seen it now, I'm not saying it's great, not by any means- but at the time- the looks, the hatred. Suddenly, you're a monster, all for asking questions-"

His words were cut short by a sudden warmth.

"I'm sorry."

There were hands on his cheeks, bringing him back to the present. His glasses had come off at some point during his tirade and his eyes locked onto pained blue orbs that wanted nothing more than to soothe the pain away that they had caused. He seemed to be trying to do so physically, his thumbs running soft circles close to his lips, little hitching movements that conveyed what his words wouldn't allow.

Crowley sniffed, embarrassment worming it's way through the pit in his stomach, slimy and cold. He hated that Aziraphale had seen, it was so much easier, so much more palatable to stay hidden behind the walls he had built. Letting the other in behind them left him vulnerable, left him seen and known and altogether more visible than he ever wanted to be. And so his words came out sulkily, harsh and sharp, in the only way he knew how to end the conversation. "You asked."

"I know I did, and I'm sorry." The words were said with more warm motions, small slides on the hand to keep him with him in the present. It was shamefully easy to accept the apology, to let the angel worm his way back into his good graces and erase the hurt that he had caused. "I never meant for you to say anything you were not ready to- nor ever felt forced to say."

"Then why ask in the first place?"

Aziraphale blinked, shock filtering across his face. "Crowley, you are always allowed to say no. Never think that you can't. You seemed comfortable when I asked before I just... assumed I could ask further. I shouldn't have. That's on me."

"Oh." Crowley coughed. "Right, yeah I knew that. But that still doesn't answer my question."

"Hmm?"

"Why did you want to know?"

Aziraphale's soft smile froze, his hands slipping off his face to leave a cold ice in their wake. "Oh. No real reason- I just, it had never quite made sense to me- that's all- can we just forget this ever happened? I'd hate for this to change anything between us."

"We've known each other for 6000 years, we just survived the apocalypse together, one more argument isn't going to break that." Crowley watched thoughtfully as Aziraphale breathed a sigh of relief, his shoulders relaxing. There was something else there, a tension that had not yet faded, some notion that Crowley had missed throughout their recent conversations that he now desperately needed to know. It was important, whatever this was. He could sense it, maybe even as easily as Aziraphale seemed to sense love. On the edge of a precipice waiting for the wind to change and send him falling once more.

Or perhaps it was just that easy to see when an angel was trying to deceive a demon.

"You're lying to me."

"What?" 

Crowley crowed, his anger morphing into a strange satisfaction. "I'm impressed. You, lying? Who'd have thought it."

"I lied all the time to the higher ups I'll have you know-"

"Yeah but they're angels." Crowley's smile widened. "They're not me. And you almost had me fooled- almost."

"Just forget it, I was being inconsiderate and I'd much rather we just forgot about it. More tea?"

Crowley brushed aside the feeble attempt to derail the conversation. "Aww, come on, Aziraphale. You can't do that to me now. Not after asking all those questions and watching me pour my heart out to you- imagine what the other demons would think if they knew I'd done that." Ok, maybe that was a low blow, but he felt he'd earned it as Aziraphale stared at him, winded by his words. He watched nervously as Aziraphale bit his lip, turning away from his prying eyes and his heart sank.

So it was important. It was something big, and altogether Not Good and frankly, he'd had enough of that recently to last him another 6000 years.

But the only thing worse than something Big and Not Good, was knowing that Aziraphale might go ahead with it without him.

"Please?"

The pair of them froze, both shocked by the utterance that Crowley had made.

He coughed, but stood firm, swallowing down the shame and vulnerability. "Please? Don't shut me out. I think we've been through enough together now, don't you think?"

Aziraphale gulped, staring at him for a few more seconds before he gave a strange low sound of defeat and began to pace back and forth before him.

Frankly, it did nothing for his nerves.

"This wasn't meant to happen like this." 

Crowley laughed, unable to stop himself, though it was slightly hysterical and more nerve-wracking than it ought to be. "When have things ever gone as planned for us? I'm pretty sure no plan is better than us having a plan at this point."

The angel paused, giving out a soft huff of exasperation. "Quite. But that doesn't mean I have to enjoy it."

"There has been literally nothing enjoyable about this conversation."

Aziraphale gave him a scathing look, one that made his grin widen into something more genuine. "You are not helping, Crowley."

"Why on earth would I help you after you asked such a ridiculous question?"

"Because-" Aziraphale gestured wildly before coming to a sudden halt, one hand pressed against his face so that his words were muffled. It took all that Crowley had in him to listen intently and not snap for him to repeat himself. "I was asking for me."

"...Who else would you be asking for exactly?"

"Crowley." There was something warming about the fond and yet irritated frustration brimming throughout that one word. "Please. This is hard enough as it is." He seemed to psych himself up in the ensuing silence. "I've just been thinking lately. After everything that happened- our respective sides were not pleased."

"Obviously."

"And it stands to reason that- they might- that they could-"

The realisation hit him like a freight train, his teeth gritting at the mere suggestion- that they would even try. "They don't have the authority. They couldn't- it's not up to them."

"But could it be up to us?"

All thoughts left Crowley's head, short circuiting behind the words- up to us- up to us- "I don't quite follow."

Aziraphale's shoulders sagged. "No, I guess if you really didn't choose all those years ago, then you wouldn't." He stood himself up straight, staring Crowley in the eye and making his stomach squirm. "I guess, I just thought- if it was already going to happen in the near future, I'd rather make the decision myself. I'd rather choose for myself."

"It's not- you can't just make that decision, Aziraphale. You can't just- decide one day and change back the next." It was inconceivable, strange and warped and oh so wrong. "You need to do something wrong, and what have you done?"

Aziraphale laughed. "I think we both know that list could be very long, depending on who you ask. And it's never been up to us what other's see as good and bad, now has it?"

"Alright I'll bite." Crowley raised an eyebrow. "What have you done that heaven-or god- or whoever decides- would think was the final straw in you falling from grace?"

"Well, I rather think I've fallen for you."

You could have heard a pin drop, if there had been one in the apartment.

As it was, the sunglasses that Crowley had not even noticed he was holding fell to the ground with a rather more resounding clatter.

The angel had tried for suave, though the demon could see through every nervous layer of tension. His tongue felt like it had tied itself up in response though, the sudden urge to slink into his snake skin all the more apparent as the other stared, waiting for an answer.

All he could think to do was laugh.

That's all that really came out, a bubble of laughter, a nervous twitch of shock and the unyielding need to move the situation back into more familiar waters. "Angel, that's not the same as- you know, falling. And neither of us have been punished for it yet."

Aziraphale shook his head, a sadness settling in his face that Crowley yearned to scrub away. "But- I think I would- fall for you, that is."

"You just said you had."

"Crowley. Please- is this so hard to believe that-"

Crowley was in front of him in a blink of an eye, cutting him short just as quickly as the other had done to him. "No. No, it's not but you need to stop talking about things you don't understand. You don't know what it's like, I wouldn't wish it on anybody, especially not you."

"But-"

Crowley placed a hand against his lips, sighing. "I wouldn't want you to. I wouldn't ever want you to." His hands moved, mirroring Aziraphale's from before, and finding comfort himself in finally allowing himself to be this close, to show his affection, his fear. 

He'd never wish for his angel to fall.

But the fact that he would consider it, sent his heart soaring.

"Wait."

"Hmm?"

"You said 'neither of us have been punished for that yet'. Do you mean-?"

Crowley locked up ever so slightly, eyes catching on Aziraphale's hesitant, hopeful gaze.

He chuckled once more, bringing himself closer so his words brushed against the other's lips.

"I fell a long time ago into that particular pit, angel, you just followed me there." 

[quipadeedoodaa]

I Had a Wits End

Had this dream shortly after discovering Good Omens. I thought I might use it for something, but honestly it’s great as is, directly from my brain as I typed it after waking up. It makes me giggle still XD they’re such dorks.

Putting it under the cut because it is LONG!

Contains: Fluff, Adam, Dream nonsense logic, bad photoshopping, genetic experimentation, and both of them being stupid. Also, Aziraphale probably smites someone.

Ineffable Husbands Dream August.01.19

Aziraphale is meandering town just thinking and remembering the insults from Gabriel and begins to wonder if Crowley thinks he's soft to. In the midst of fretting if his literal demon soulmate he saved the world with thinks he's physically attractive, he notices a new business, not realizing he's wandered into a shadier part of town. Its a gym! Well, really that would solve everything, wouldn't it?! Excited he goes in just to see the people inside are like HYPERmuscular.

"Oh! Oh uh, oh dear, um..."

Evil eyes catch sight of him and the only person with natural proportions comes along, the shop owner, a skeezy looking business man.

"Can I help you with something?"

"Ah, well, maybe, you see, I was hoping to try working out."

Skeezy dude eyes this smol soft cinnamon roll and grins wider. "You came to the right place. Why don't you let us set you up a routine." escorts a less nervous, and now babbling incessantly about his worry/desire to try bettering himself, Aziraphale further into the building.

Meanwhile, Crowley's been tracking down the source of some very illegal and highly dangerous genetic experimentation. Which just so happens to be based at the same Gym. He has no idea Aziraphale is going there to work out and is gone from home often enough to not notice Aziraphale is too.

The experiments aren’t just on people, but animals too. Just making things bigger, more dangerous and destructive. Crowley gets caught snooping so he finds out the hard way when he's being chased and almost loses his car again. "Not the Bentley!! Anything but that!"

Crowley is a literal noodle, and discovers exactly how prone to bruises he is, so many so he's exhausted from miracling them away.

Scene cut to home, apparently Adam and Dog visit often enough because they were there. And Adam shows Crowley that skeezy gym being advertised in a magazine b/c Crowley had told Adam about what was happening, but not Aziraphale. He didn't want to tell the angel the horrors he'd found out. Crowley never reads the article, which is a shame because if he did, he'd know Aziraphale had already been involved in all this and telling him could've helped.

‘Cause all the example pictures in the article include Aziraphale. Which I’ll spoil now is HILARIOUS b/c it's actually just Zira’s head photoshopped on a buff body because, as the masterminds have discovered (and thus think Zira is the perfect experiment) is that Aziraphale's body does not react at all to their chemicals. I mean it’s only a corporation after all. It was built as it is now and has never changed for 6000 years. Aziraphale is literally just going there to work out like at a leisure gym (ex: planet fitness if y’all have em) and socialize b/c despite being intimidating, these people are quite nice!

So while Crowley is freaking out, Adam had stepped out of the room to search for Aziraphale for food. Aziraphale enters in one of those wrestling spandex  numbers, and starts flexing and Crowley just completely forgets what he was just thinking about for a moment when he turns around and sees Aziraphale being an enormous dweeb in clothes uglier than usual. "...What on earth are you wearing?"

"I've been working out!" 

".........." Aziraphale looks exactly the same except the very ugly outfit if you could even call it that. "right. well..." 

And then Crowley freaks out because a moth had flown in and oh shitohshitojsgit!!! because one of the attacks had been via a giant moth monster. And now Aziraphale is worried about him. Miracles his normal clothes back on and decides maybe some food would help, he HAD been gone a lot lately. He sees Adam in the kitchen and shoos him back to Crowley "I’m worried about him, be a dear and make sure he's alright while I fix dinner."

Adam and dog return to the room to find super paranoid Crowley holding a massive egg like it's a time bomb, several holes are in the ceiling, but the moth is gone. Aziraphale realizes he's too worried to cook so just miracles some food and returns with it.

Crowley goes off on a long tangent about what's happening and what that Gym has been doing, which Aziraphale stands behind Crowley by the door holding a dish of noodles the whole time in shock, occasionally getting Crowley’s full attention for a section while he paces around. I forgot the exact words of his rant but he covered the human experimentation, the fact the egg was a moth egg and very dangerous and WOULD be exploding at some point most likely, almost losing the car again, ACTUALLY losing or at least sustaining massive damage to his home.

And Aziraphale is just filling with righteous fury for his husband and that he had so easily been tricked not that Crowley knows it yet. So Aziraphale makes eye contact with Adam and conveys he's going to take care of this, sets the noodles on the bed and leaves. But Crowley doesn't notice this, he just keeps talking fears of what these humans were truly capable of and accidentally knocks over the noodles. Dog rushes to eat them the movement catching Crowley’s attention and no! OH NO! "AZIRAPHALE!!" He falls to the noodles hands trying to gather them all up. "AZIRAPHALE!! What have they DONE to you!! Dog no! DON'T EAT HIM! AZIRAPHALE!!!" 

He scoops all the noodles back into the dish and holds it like a baby, you can notice very dark circles under his eyes as his glasses having fallen off, or askew during his meltdown. He’s shaking and in panic and Adam is quite worried about this fool. Why would he think the noodles were Aziraphale? but doesn't question yet, just lets Crowley drag him into a fear cling with the noodles. 

Ending with a hysterically sobbed "I used to have a Wits End and now it's GONE!" referring to the apparent name of this house Wits End, that’s been destroyed in several places and his husband gone! And Adam just pats him on the back. There there Crowley...

This is the point I woke up, but I retained knowledge of what happens next despite not seeing it.

Aziraphale storms the gym with the full brunt of God's wrath and not only destroys the building but all the research data AND miracles the information out of their minds. Just hits the place like a missile undoing everything. And the boss is done last so he KNOWS he fucked up using this nerd for a test subject. "What ARE you?"

"Fear not, I'm nothing you will ever remember." and then he doesn't.

It's not perfect like if Adam had willed it away but it was still satisfying to destroy things that had caused Crowley such harm.

And it's been awhile since he got to do a BIG miracle

Later. Once Crowley is calmed down, Adam’s gone home, and Aziraphale is there to ground his demon. Crowley calls him out on going to a gym at all. Aziraphale blushes and is all "I feared you would grow bored of me. I am soft, as you know... Not much of an angel either." 

"But you're my angel." Crowley says blunt and 'duh' as possibly

Aziraphale gives a big ole smile and hugs him more. "I'm sorry I'd forgotten."

"Well... Don't do it again!"

"I promise."

End