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aethelflaedladyofmercia · 4 years

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Birth of a Star

Another Good Omens Prompt from the DIWS server! This one suggested by @angel-and-serpent - and it’s a good one - Crowley Realizes he’s in Love!

Can also be found on my AO3 - hop over and leave a comment!

Night had fallen while the angel slurped down a truly impressive number of mollusks and Crowley sampled several cups of wine that was more than drinkable. The conversation meandered – work, politics, music, theater – and slowly, he felt his bad mood melt away, one terrible joke at a time.

All the while they reclined upon the couches, facing each other across the table, Crowley felt an odd warmness bubbling inside, percolating a little stronger every time Aziraphale smiled in his direction, or even just asked him a question. Something as simple as that, how are you finding the city? He couldn’t put his finger on why it affected him so, except that no one – no one – had asked him anything of the sort. Not in the entire time he’d been in Rome.

In fact, come to think of it, not since the last time he’d spoken to Aziraphale.

As they stepped out into the street, he caught himself thinking that maybe…maybe this city wasn’t so bad after all. Not if it brought evenings like this.

Aziraphale walked beside him, looking up at the sky. “Oh, it’s too cloudy to see the stars. More’s the pity. I always like to see them, you know.”

“Do you?” Crowley hated it. Didn’t even look at the sky, not if he could help it.

“Oh, of course. They’re so lovely. Truly works of art. I always envied the Starmakers, you know, the angels of Creation. Such a glorious task.”

“I…I was one of them, you know.” He didn’t know why he was saying it. The wine was the easy excuse, coiling warm in his belly, but he didn’t think that was the case. It took more than an amphora or two to loosen his lips. But something inside of him seemed trying to work itself out, something that had sat, listening to Aziraphale all night and…perhaps…wanted to reach back across the divide. “I helped build the stars.”

“Did you? Oh, that’s – that’s truly wonderful! Why, I can’t even imagine – what a gift, Crowley!”

“Nh. Well. Not anymore.” He tried to smile as he said it, but his face wouldn’t cooperate. He tipped his head back to stare at the clouds. Misty and cold and distant, like the remnants of the fires that once had run inside him. “Only angels can Create. Demons Manifest. Not the same thing.”

“Oh, my dear…” He felt a soft hand brush his arm, just for a second, before pulling quickly away. “I’m so…truly sorry. That was a great loss, I should think. I can’t even…”

“S’not that bad,” Crowley sniffed, walking a little faster.

“But it is!” Aziraphale hurried to catch up. “Why, I’ve always wished I could Create! It’s a true wonder, to be able to – to shape the raw matter of the universe. I even tried—” He stopped, horrified.

“You’ve tried making stars?” Crowley’s eyebrows shot up. Would this angel ever cease to surprise him? “You’re a Guardian, aren’t you? That’s forbidden!”

“I…” Aziraphale looked at him, aghast. “Oh, no I-I-I didn’t mean…that is…naturally a Guardian would never attempt an act of Creation that’s…that’s…that would be a breach of-of everything…”

“You can tell me,” Crowley leaned against the concrete side of an insula, the shop window beside him boarded up for the night. “Let me guess. Blew up in your face? Forces too much for you to control?”

But the angel turned pink, looking suddenly a little angry. “I’ll not be mocked by you, Crowley. You know perfectly well nothing happened!” He slumped a little. “How could it? I’m not designed that way. I never had the spark of Creation in me.” Then, in a softer voice, “You truly had something special, Crowley, something the rest of us…”

Something about his posture, his tone of voice, the air of utter defeat, made Crowley’s heart shudder in his chest. “Look, you want to know a secret?”

The words were out before he knew what was happening. He shouldn’t tell Aziraphale this; he’d never told anyone this. The questions he’d asked – the things he’d learned – had led to his Fall. He wouldn’t put anyone through that, not his worst enemy, and Aziraphale was far from that. But one little secret would be safe. He pushed off from the wall, stepping closer, leaning in to put his mouth close to Aziraphale’s ear, so that his sharp cheekbone brushed lightly against the soft curve of Aziraphale’s face, sending shivers of lightning through his body.

“There’s no reason you can’t,” he whispered. “All angels were created the same. The classifications, the categories, the ranks…it’s all lies.”

Aziraphale’s head snapped up. “You – that’s – Crowley!” But he didn’t pull away, didn’t shout. His voice was almost as hushed as Crowley’s own. “That’s got to be blasphemy of – of some kind. The Archangels—”

“The Archangels want you to think they’re different. That they’re better somehow. They aren’t.” He stepped back to look Aziraphale in his wide blue eyes. “And any angel is capable of Creation.”

“You’re lying.” But he didn’t sound like he believed it. “This is a trick…a temptation…”

“I can prove it. I can teach you to make stars, right now.”

He bit his lip, eyes wide as a dwarf star about to go nova. “Oh, I…I…” The angel glanced up at the cloudy sky again. “Could you really?”

“Hold out your hands. Like this.” Crowley cupped some air between his palms. Hesitating, Aziraphale followed suit. “Now close your eyes. Run your fingers through the atoms. Can you feel them? Feel their weight? You just need to find the smallest ones, the lightest. Those are Hydrogen. Don’t worry, they’re everywhere.” Aziraphale’s brow furrowed in concentration, reminding Crowley of the first time he’d tried to light that fire, accidentally smothering it with every grasping attempt. “Don’t struggle. Just…feel for them. A little at a time. Pull them into the center and push them together.”

For a long moment, nothing seemed to happen.

Then, slowly, a tiny spark ignited at the center of his hands, glowing, growing, expanding as atoms crashed into each other, colliding, fusing. Shining.

The first star Crowley had ever made had been a tiny, fitful thing, flickering between his fingers, fading now and again, but oh, how he’d loved it. Carried it everywhere until he was told it would never be strong enough, had to be dissipated and made anew.

Aziraphale’s was healthy, strong, lovely. A perfect star. He should have been jealous, but he felt proud.

When the core was the size of a marble, Crowley carefully reached over and plucked it free – no need for this to explode in the center of the world’s largest city.

He hadn’t realized how much he missed it, the endless heat between his fingers, illuminating the darkest places within him. He felt lighter than air, he felt alive, he felt –

He felt like he was home.

“No, I told you Crowley, it’s no good. I can’t…” Aziraphale’s eyes fluttered open and landed on the tiny glowing bead between Crowley’s fingers. “Is that…it can’t be…”

“You made it, Angel. All you.” Crowley handed it back, carefully placing it on Aziraphale’s palm. A wave of cold struck him, sharp as the ice in the deepest pits of Hell, the moment the bead left his fingers. But somehow, he didn’t care.

Aziraphale held it up to his face and the glow lit him, the pure, perfect light filling him, like a candle covered in glass. The starshine danced off his eyes. And his smile, oh, Crowley didn’t think he’d ever seen anything more beautiful than that. He wanted to stare at him, drink it all in, hold on to this moment forever.

And then it all ended when Aziraphale held out his hand, giving him the star back. “What? Angel, that’s yours—”

“No, it isn’t. It’s ours. I never could have made this without your help. And I think you should have it.”

Crowley tried to step back, bumping into the wall behind him. “No - look - I relinquish my claim, whatever you need to hear.” He couldn’t believe Aziraphale actually wanted to give it to him. Surely it was just some polite nothing.

“Ah. Then it is mine to bestow upon whom I choose.” Aziraphale’s soft fingers caught Crowley’s hand, lifted it, until he felt the spark of celestial fire pressed into it again. “You must understand, I love it dearly. But...I can make another. You can’t.” He wrapped Crowley’s fingers closed around it, gave them a gentle squeeze. “It’s as radiant as you are, my dear friend. Please, take good care of it.”

Crowley stared down at the little perfect light, the piece of his past he’d never thought to reclaim, and found that his eyes were wet, that he had to blink back tears, for the first time in four thousand years. A warmth filled him, one that had nothing whatsoever to do with the star.

He looked up at Aziraphale and, quite without meaning to, smiled.

“Ah, that’s more like it,” the angel said, with a smug little grin. “You’ve been so sullen it was giving me indigestion. Perhaps now we can have a proper conversation.” He turned and walked away, as if nothing had happened, as if nothing at all had passed between them, with that bastard smile that Crowley loved—

Crowley loved—

Ah. Shit.

Crowley loved Aziraphale.

#good omens prime #good omens fanfiction #aziraphale and crowley #crowley loves aziraphale #starmaker crowley #falling in love #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #crowley loves his angel #ancient rome #bastard aziraphale #My writing #good omens prompts #tiny baby star

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skelligiri · 4 years

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Decided to try and write a ficlet to go with this. Hope you like it!

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It had been 3 days.

Or so the angel assumed, as he was making his rounds through the darkness with nothing but a candle to light his way. It was hard to keep track of the daily cycle in the absence of sunlight, after all. The heavy rain had not relented even for a minute ever since the ark had been filled with two of every animal, ready to start the world anew.

Well. Two of almost every animal, Aziraphale was reminded, as he turned a corner towards the outermost stables of the second level of the ship. Aziraphale, who had been assigned to Earth since the beginning, at first thought there had to have been some kind of misunderstanding. But in the end, he had to accept that the ineffable plan was not for an angel to understand, much less to question. He was also faintly aware that bitterness was an emotion unbecoming of an angel, but he found it to be rather hard to suppress after recent events.

Some of the animals roused at his presence and bleary eyes turned on him as he passed stables upon stables, occasionally stopping to pet and reassure some of the particularly confused looking among them. That’s when he noticed a draft coming from the direction of the unicorn’s stable. The poor creature had been quite distraught when it had been loaded on board the ark without its mate.

When he reached the lone unicorn, Aziraphale realized that there was a gash in the wood behind it.

That explained the draft, at least. More surprising, however, was the curled up figure in the stable with the unicorn. The red hair was unmistakable.

The angel tried to ignore the warmth that spread through his corporation at the sight of his hereditary enemy. Instead, he loosened the heavy ropes that were keeping the gate closed with a quick miracle, before stepping inside.

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Crawly knew what he would be telling his superiors in the off-chance that anybody questioned his actions. He was only helping some humans find their loved ones in the panicked frenzy that was Mesopotamia to lull them in some false hope, before it was all ripped away from them. Or maybe he’d tell them that God had wanted those people to die apart from each other, and that he interfered with that plan simply as an act of defiance.

It didn’t matter. He’d cross that bridge later, if he had to. He had other things to worry about in the meantime.

The water was rising fast, and he could see the angel in the distance among the chosen survivors, struggling to get the last of the animals to calm down enough to be loaded on to the boat.

‘Thank you, thank you so much,’ a woman cried over the sounds of the rain coming down in torrents when Crawly handed her the toddler she had lost in the chaos. ‘Don’t-‘, he hissed, but was promptly cut off by a wave hitting him from behind and sending him tumbling. He gasped, and for a brief moment was flooded not only by water, but memories of drowning, except it hadn’t been water and it had been hot. Not just hot, but searing, and all he could think about was how he hadn’t meant to incur Her wrath, he wanted to be let back up and go home and he kept screaming into the void, begging until desperation and regret turned into white hot anger, just to burn out and leave nothing but loss and sorrow in its wake-

He tried to shake the feeling and focus on the present while pulling himself up. But the water kept coming. The lower parts of the city had been long engulfed by the waves, and those that had survived had flocked to the hills. Trying to escape their fate and refusing to go out silently. Crawly only hoped that what was left of humanity would keep that fighting spirit alive.

He looked around and contemplated helping people onto their makeshift rafts as the waters reached his chest and his battered physical form began to lose the struggle against the waves, constantly finding himself underwater just to re-emerge, the rain making it hard to catch his breath. He didn’t notice Aziraphale appearing behind him until he felt a hand grab his arm, which prevented him from being swept off his feet once more. Crawly barely managed to make out the words ‘It’s time, we have to go now,’ despite the angel screaming them on top of his lungs.

Crawly gave him a long look, before tearing himself away from him and making his way towards one of the rafts. ‘Crawly!’

The demon pulled himself on the raft, or at least tried to; he knew he would have lost his weakened corporation then and there if he hadn’t been pulled up by somebody he couldn’t even make out through the rain. Crawly caught his breath and looked around. There was only one more thing he could do.

Some people pointed and recoiled, overcome with terror, when Crawly spread his dark wings and illuminated himself as if on fire so to stand out against the rain, before snarling at the cowering humans. With a powerful flap of his wings, he took off among the screams.

All he could do was hope that his appearance had changed who they were cursing with their dying breath. He hoped he wouldn’t see any of them again. It was the least they deserved.

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‘Crawly?’, Aziraphale asked quietly against the thunderous volume of the downpour outside. He crouched down next to the demon. That’s when he noticed it – Crawly was trembling, his face contorted in distress.

Aziraphale sighed. He hadn’t seen Crawley since they had made it to the boat, and when they did, Crawley had been angrier than he’d ever seen him. The angel had tried to assuage him, which was very difficult given his suspicion that the use of the words ‘ineffable’ or ‘plan’ would cause the demon to burst into literal flames. There was no point in trying to downplay what had happened.

‘I don’t like it any more than you do.’, Aziraphale had opted to say, finally.

And it was true. Crawly knew that it was true. And that’s when Crawly walked away, into the deeper parts of the ship. Aziraphale hadn’t followed.

And here they were, three days later.

Aziraphale sighed. He sat down on the straw, miracled up a blanket and began draping it over the demon.

At first, he didn’t notice him stirring at the gentle touch. He would’ve expected that if Crawly did wake, he’d shoot up and lash out at the angel, still filled with anger over what his side had done. He also would’ve expected some defensiveness at the very idea of being woken from a nightmare. Some snark about how demons don’t have nightmares, that they ARE nightmares, something along those lines of thought.

Or maybe that had been wishful thinking on his part, because Crawly starting to shake uncontrollably, curling into himself and gasping for breath was much, much worse.

Instinctively, Aziraphale put down his candle holder and reached out to pull Crawly close. To his surprise, there was no resistance. He was alarmed at just how thin he felt in his arms.

They would never speak of this, he knew. Crawly would trust him to never speak of this.

The angel wanted to say something comforting along the lines of ‘They are in a better place now’, as if that made it okay. Or ‘It was only a dream.’ If only. Instead, he held his dear nemesis in silence as he allowed himself to mourn, safe in the twilight next to the unicorn, the smell of mildew and sea water emanating from the crack in the hull along with the occasional drizzle of rain whenever the direction of the wind changed.

They sat together for a long time. And although there was a long journey ahead, Aziraphale knew that one day, the storm would pass.

A new dawn would finally break, and he took comfort in knowing that they’d be there to witness it together.

#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #crawly #noah's ark #ineffable husbands #ficlet #not sure how to tag this #tw:drowning #i guess?#someone give them a break #hurt #comfort #skelligiri

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earsofducks · 4 years

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Day 6 - Titanic

Whoops, I wrote this in like 20 minutes before my last class. I love having no time management skills.

Warnings: Titanic stuff. Lack of knowledge about Titanic stuff on the part of the author. Coercion (Gabriel @ Aziraphale, because Gabriel is trash and does not deserve to be an angel). Major character discorporation. ANGST.

@ineffablehusbandsweek

Aziraphale’s heart has sunk so low that she’s pretty sure it’s tangled in her stomach.

Her mood is a sharp contrast to everyone else boarding the ship, all of whom are deliriously happy. Excitement is tangible in the air.

After all, who wouldn’t be excited to be boarding the great ocean liner Titanic? It’s big and bright and beautiful and, as they've all been informed, unsinkable.

Aziraphale, who is miserably handing over her ticket and is also, incidentally, an angel of the Lord, knows better.

She’d been rather charmed by all the talk of the ‘unsinkable’ ship, to be honest. The humans’ confidence in their handiwork is always endearing, in her opinion.

Heaven did not think so.

She’s been tasked with making sure the Titanic sinks mid-journey, and she feels ill every time she thinks about it. She resisted this assignment more than she’s ever resisted anything. But she had no allies in her fight, and the higher-ups won, as they always do, and she can’t help wondering if this really is what the Highest Up would want. Surely She wouldn’t be in favour of drowning all of her children?

Images of an ark and a unicorn and dismayed golden eyes flash in front of hers, and Aziraphale forces herself to focus on the present, in which a voice is shouting “Aziraphale!”

She turns to find Crowley weaving his skillful way through the crowd towards her, looking absolutely delighted.

“Hullo!” he says once he’s within earshot. “What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” Aziraphale asks instead, unwilling to answer the question.

“‘M only here for the ride,” says Crowley, beaming, clearly caught up in the thrill of it all. “Built all this themselves, angel, can you believe it? Humanity - best idea She ever had, don’t you think?”

“Yes, quite,” say Aziraphale, clutching her bag and praying she doesn’t lose her lunch. And they haven’t even put out to sea yet.

“Here, let me take that,” says Crowley, snatching it out of her grasp before she can properly protest. “You’re looking a bit peaky.”

“Oh, no,” says Aziraphale, “I’m feeling fine.”

“If you say so,” says Crowley cheerfully, “but I’m going to carry it anyway.”

He is very excited about this boat, thinks Aziraphale wretchedly, and wishes fervently that she weren’t so much of a coward, that Falling didn’t scare her as much as it does, that she’d fought Gabriel harder.

Too late now.

Crowley shows her to her room, chattering about the ship and how big it is and what’s on it and who’s on it and Aziraphale grows more and more upset about what she has to do.

She lets Crowley show her around the room, too, regaling her with information about the bunk, the mirror, the bathroom. She lets him lead her up to the deck, watches him close his eyes and inhale ocean air, watches him smile to himself as children scamper past them, laughing.

And the whole time she knows, she knows, that she’s going to be sinking this ship in a few days, and it makes her absolutely sick.

But it would make her sicker for Crowley to know what she’s going to do, so she forces a smile when he turns to look at her, grin stretching from ear to ear, eyes bright with excitement, and prays to be given the strength to do what she has to do.

Except she can’t do it. She can’t, she can’t, she can’t. She comes to this conclusion right around the time that she sees Crowley listening intently to a little girl who is telling him why the boat is floating. (It involves a lot of fairies and a few mermaids and is not very scientifically accurate but you’d never know from the serious ‘mmhmm’ and ‘really?' noises Crowley is making.) When the girl is finished explaining, he surreptitiously snaps his fingers and presents her with a mermaid doll which is sporting sparkly purple hair and a long orange tail. The bright colours and plush sturdiness of it are all are well before their time, and Aziraphale can’t stop herself from beaming at him as the girl runs off to show her new toy to her mother.

“That was quite sweet,” she says.

Crowley promptly turns forty shades of red and sputters a lot of incoherent things that eventually turn into, “Shut up.”

Aziraphale does, but keeps smiling at him, because she can’t help herself, and then feels guilty, because he’s a demon, and the whole time she knows with absolute certainty that she can’t do it. She cannot sink this ship and end all these lives.

She simply cannot.

But Gabriel can make her, and she learns this in the most horrible way possible. She is on the deck late one night, enjoying the fresh sea air and feeling like an awful angel, which is how she feels most of the time, these days, when there’s the unmistakable sound of someone threading themself through time and space. She turns to her left, smiling, fully expecting to see Crowley (he’s so silly, she thinks fondly, to insist on doing things the miraculous way when he could just use the stairs) but instead finding the cold violet eyes of the Archangel Gabriel.

“Why is this ship still above water, Aziraphale?” he asks, voice dangerously level.

“Oh, Gabriel!” says Aziraphale, well aware that her attempt at surprise and innocence leaves a lot to be desired. “I was wondering if you’d - ”

“It’s been five days,” says Gabriel, voice still dangerous but not quite as level.

“I realize that,” says Aziraphale, unable to keep the nervousness out of her voice, “but I’ve been - ”

“We told you not to wait,” says Gabriel. He’s losing his calm. “We told you that it was time sensitive. It has to happen - ”

“But why can’t we wait?” asks Aziraphale desperately, interrupting Gabriel for the first time possibly ever. “Why couldn’t we wait until it’s closer to shore and more - ”

“No!” says Gabriel, and he is in fact glaring at this point. “Aziraphale, we know you like the humans, but you cannot let your emotions get in the way of your tasks. Angels are not supposed to have emotions. Now do the job.”

“Couldn’t you do it for me?” says Aziraphale, aware that she’s pleading at this point and hating herself for letting it happen at all but she can’t, she can’t -

“Aziraphale,” says Gabriel, and he’s in her personal space and she can’t seem to breathe and he’s too close and he’s angry - “Do it.”

And in a moment that Aziraphale will regret for the rest of her life, she does.

The effects aren’t awful immediately, because Aziraphale is a coward. There’s a shudder that seems to run through the whole of the ship, and then silence. Gabriel steps back, a satisfied expression on his face. He says “was that so hard?” and then he disappears.

Crowley appears almost immediately after, and Aziraphale feels relieved, thinking, “that was a close thing,” and then absolutely horrible, because how can she care about being found out for fraternizing with a demon when she has just done a much more unforgivable thing?

(Except that according to Gabriel {and Michael, and Uriel} it was supposed to happen and no forgiveness is necessary. Aziraphale does not understand.)

“What just happened?” he asks. There’s no hint of panic in his voice. He has no idea. He’s just curious.

“Oh,” says Aziraphale, and she feels as though she’s going to be violently sick any moment now, “I’m not sure.”

Crowley looks at her, really looks, because she’s never been able to lie to him. But he doesn’t realize what really happened, he can’t have, because he just looks concerned.

“What’s wrong, angel?” he demands. “Who frightened you?”

Aziraphale scoffs.

“Frightened,” she says. “Ridiculous. I’m an angel of the Lord, Crowley, I do not get frightened.”

“Okay, okay, I believe you,” says Crowley, who does not believe her. “Just - if something big were going down, you’d tell me, right?”

“Of course,” says Aziraphale, and when he wanders away, apparently satisfied with the answer, she starts crying.

It is one of the most horrendous nights of her life.

She stays on board, trying to help where she can, trying to find quiet places to multiply lifeboats and failing. She gives hugs and distributes as much peace as she can and tries to keep the tears at bay. She tries not to think about Crowley.

And she succeeds, until they’re loading up one of the last lifeboats. He turns up at her side, hands in his pockets, a haunted look in his eyes.

“So this is why you were here,” he says quietly. “It was the ‘unsinkable’ bit, wasn’t it? Heaven just couldn’t take that, could they?”

“Oh, Crowley,” she says, voice breaking, and somehow finds herself crying into his shoulder. His arms, wiry but strong, wrap themselves around her and she is held tight and feels safer than she ever has. (Which is silly, because she is on a sinking ship with a demon hanging onto her, but that’s the way it is.) “I’m sorry,” she sobs. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Shhh,” says Crowley, and his voice is raw, too. “‘Sn’t your fault.”

“But I - ”

“‘S those absolute wankers,” he says, voice going harsh and vicious and shocking her a little bit, “that made you do it.”

“I did the miracle, though, Crowley, I - ”

“Didn’t do it until you had to,” says Crowley, and his voice is soft but full of conviction. He pulls away, holds her at arms’ length, and she tries to pretend that she doesn’t very much miss the warmth of his torso and the snugness of his arms. “Not your fault, angel. It’s not your fault.”

“Well - thank you,” she whispers, feeling overwhelmed with grace she does not deserve. “That’s not - you don’t - I’m so sorry - ”

“I know,” says Crowley, looking past her to something on the deck. He’s quiet for a minute, and when he speaks again he sounds properly choked up. “Me, too.”

She turns to see what he’s looking at, and follows his line of sight to a purple-haired doll lying, abandoned, on the deck.

“‘S how it goes, I guess,” says Crowley, letting go of her and taking a couple long strides to pick it up. “You’d think we’d be used to it by now.” He looks at the doll contemplatively for a moment and then turns to her. “Well,” he says, puffing his cheeks and blowing out air. “This is it, then.”

“Indeed,” says Aziraphale somberly. “I’m not meant to fly away, I don’t think.”

“I’m not meant to be on board,” says Crowley ruefully. “Still, ‘m glad I came. Worth it, I think.”

“You can’t mean to - there’s still space!” says Aziraphale, staring first at him and then at the -

Last boat. The very last one.

“There is,” agrees Crowley, and he’s looking at her in a way she thinks she understands and knows she does not want to. “Just a little, though. Just for you.”

“No!” says Aziraphale, appalled at the thought. “No, not without you, Crowley! No!”

“Give that to her if you see her, will you?” says Crowley roughly, thrusting the doll into her hands and taking her by the shoulders.

She starts to struggle.

“No!” she cries. “No, no!”

But he’s relentless, and she’s used a lot of her strength tonight, and he guides her over to the last of the lifeboats. There is just barely space, and she tries to put up enough of a fight that someone else can get in, fill up the space, before she does.

Crowley spins her around to face him and meets her eyes. She can feel her eyes are welling up with tears.

“You’ve got to go,” he says firmly. “You can - help. You can help, without getting into tr - you can help. And you’ve never been discorporated, and believe me, angel, you don’t want to be. Now get in the bloody lifeboat.”

And he sweeps her up and deposits her into it with a tenderness that she starts crying harder.

“Please,” she says, so emotionally overwrought that she doesn’t care that she’s begging. “Please come with me. Please let me stay with you. Please, Crowley, please…”

“Bye, angel,” says Crowley, and kisses the back of her hand. “See you ‘round.”

And then he lets go of her and backs up and sticks his hands back in his pockets and she and the other weeping people in the boat are lowered into the water.

She stares at the redheaded figure on the deck, who is watching the grim proceedings with very practiced, very forced casualness, and her vision blurs when he raises his hand to give a final, lackadaisical wave.

She watches, eyes blurring with tears, until he’s out of sight, and then she clutches the doll to herself for a moment, wipes her eyes, and sets about keeping everyone in the boat alive.

#ineffable husbands au week #ineffable husbands #titanic #titanic au #aziraphale #crowley #gabriel #miracles #I don't even know what happened

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prepare4trouble · 5 years

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“You like the world, don’t you Aziraphale?”

Aziraphale hesitated, unsure how to answer. He had made it abundantly clear in his reports back to Heaven since the very beginning, and in his actions over the past eleven years or so that yes, he liked the world a great deal. After all, if he hadn’t, he would hardly have risked everything in an attempt to save it.

He just wasn’t sure whether admitting that now, tied to an office chair in Heaven’s conference room, while Gabriel and two other Archangels stood over him, was the best course of action. Maybe feigned indifference would work better.

Or perhaps it would be better to say nothing at all, and simply wait for Gabriel to continue.

He looked at the Archangel, standing over him with a smug expression on his face and realised that no, that wouldn’t work at all. Gabriel was looking down at him expectantly, waiting for a reply. Clearly the question hadn’t been a rhetorical one.

Aziraphale shrugged internally. There was no right answer here; whatever he said was bound to be a mistake. He straightened himself up as best he could while tied to an uncomfortable wheeled chair, tried to square his shoulders, then looked Gabriel directly in the eye. “Yes,” he said. “I do.”

The grin that spread instantly across Gabriel’s face sent a cold spike of terror right to the centre of Aziraphale’s being, and he knew with absolute certainty that whatever happened next was going to be bad.

He hoped that he hadn’t just doomed the planet again.

“Yes?” Gabriel asked, still smiling as though he was getting everything he had ever wanted. “And you like your demonic boyfriend too, I’m sure. Your books. Your… gross matter.”

Aziraphale nodded. It was too late to take it back now, and Gabriel wouldn't have believed him even if he had. He got the distinct impression that this entire conversation had already been planned out in Gabriel’s mind and that it wouldn’t matter what he did, or did not say, the outcome was going to be the same.

“I do,” he said, a little stiffly.

If it were possible, Gabriel’s grin grew wider still. He glanced excitedly at Sandalphon, at his side. It was clear that everything was going exactly according to plan. He turned back to Aziraphale.

“Imagine what it would be like,” he said, “if you could never see any of them again.”

“You can’t keep me apart from Crowley,” Aziraphale told him. “Not unless you plan to kill me.”

That wasn’t true, of course. It was completely within Gabriel’s power to keep the two of them apart. All he would need to do, would be to hold Aziraphale there, in Heaven, where Crowley couldn’t reach him. The demon had been snatched by the forces of Hell at the same moment that Aziraphale had been taken, and was presumably undergoing some similar treatment in Hell. If he were to be kept there too, it would be next to impossible for the two of them to find each other again.

But then, eternity, as Crowley had impressed upon him once upon a time, was a very long time. He genuinely did doubt that Gabriel would be able to keep them apart forever.

Gabriel shrugged dismissively, as though he was accepting Aziraphale’s point. “I mean, I wouldn't have to kill you. I could just kill him instead. But you’re right, I’m not going to do that. I’m an angel; we don’t go around killing people.” He hesitated. “Well, present company excepted, I suppose. I hear you were completely on board with killing that kid. I mean, I know he was the antichrist, but come on, Aziraphale. Murder? Really?”

It hadn’t been one of his prouder moments, and he realised now that if he had managed to go through with it — if he hadn’t been sharing a body with someone who had disagreed with the course of action, and he had been able to pull the trigger unimpeded — it wouldn’t have actually helped matters at all. In fact, it probably would have made them significantly worse.

He remained silent. He couldn’t think of an answer to give, and even if he could, he had already established that it wouldn’t make any difference.

“Anyway,” Gabriel continued. “Killing you would be too easy, and not as much fun. See, I was talking to Lord Beelzebub about it, and they had some… alternative suggestions. Demons have a knack for that kind of thing that angels just don’t have, you know? I mean, I know they say they don’t have any imagination, but let me tell you…”

Now that was worrying. Aziraphale shifted as well as he was able on the uncomfortable chair, and tried not to imagine the kinds of torment that Hell might have dreamt up for him. The human imagination described Hell as a place filled with fire and pitchforks, but he already knew that the reality was much, much worse.

“You’re working with demons?” he asked. It seemed… improbable, but he knew that it must be true. Gabriel wouldn’t lie about something like that.

The Archangel frowned. “That’s not disapproval I hear, is it? You’re one to talk, my friend. You do not get to judge me, you pathetic excuse for an angel.”

His voice grew more powerful as he spoke; not louder, but more forceful, and Aziraphale tried not to tremble at the holy power behind it. He stared straight ahead, his expression blank. Terror curled in the stomach and chest of the human body that he was wearing, but he refused to let it show. He refused to give Gabriel the satisfaction.

“So,” Gabriel continued, back to his usual tone, “Beelzebub suggested we make you Fall. It’s been a while since an angel Fell, you know. Turns out the punishment department down there is eager to get a new recruit to pressure into service. And on a personal note, I’d be fascinated to see what you’d look like as a demon.” He turned to Sandalphon. “What do you think? Fangs? Horns? Some of them actually have horns, you know.”

Sandalphon shrugged. “Maybe he’d be all snakey too. They could match.”

“Snake eyes! Yes!” Gabriel laughed gleefully. “Well, whatever he got, it’d make it difficult for him to keep on running that bookshop, passing for human. I can’t imagine I believed it was just a cover. He loves it. Just as much as he loves the demon.” He shuddered. “Gross.”

Aziraphale wondered how fast he could get the wheels of the office chair to move if he tried to propel it across the floor by moving his feet. Not fast enough, probably. “Well, Angels are beings of love,” he reminded them. Although, to look around this room it was very difficult to believe that.

“Love of the Almighty,” Sandalphon corrected. “Not of demons, and human artefacts, and food.”

Gabriel nodded. “Well said. Now that I think about it, maybe we should change the plan. How do you think he’d like it if he couldn’t taste anymore either? Is that something we could do?”

Sandalphon folded his arms and looked thoughtful. “Trickier,” he said. “It’s a mortal body thing, so all he’d need to do would be to change the body. There’s even a chance he or the demon would be able to heal him.”

Gabriel looked supremely disappointed at that. “Fine,” he said. “We’ll just stick to the plan, then.”

Aziraphale couldn’t stand this any longer. He knew it was exactly what Gabriel wanted, but he found himself asking before he could stop himself. “And the plan is what, exactly?”

The Archangel smiled down at him condescendingly and continued with his spiel. “Well, we decided you wouldn’t Fall, because that would only serve to bring you and the demon closer together,” he told him. “Don’t worry, we’re going to keep it in reserve though, in case you step out of line again. Do you know the difference between demons and angels, Aziraphale?”

He let the question hang in the air for only a fraction of a second, not long enough for Aziraphale to come up with an answer, before he continued.

“Demons can’t sense the Almighty. They can’t feel her love. Have you ever thought about what that would be like, Aziraphale? Or maybe you don’t have to, you could just ask… what’s his name? Crawly. It’s going to be very dark in your world soon; can you imagine what it would be like if it were cold and empty too?”

He knew that Gabriel was only drawing this out to torture him; to make the whole thing so much worse. It was probably a tip from Hell. He refused to give in to the urge to beg for clarification. If his arms were free, he would have folded them, as it was, he glared up at the Archangel and tried not to look afraid. “I’m quite sure I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“No,” Gabriel told him. “No, I know you don’t.” He was smiling in a way that Aziraphale really didn’t like. “So, we were brainstorming how to do this. I mean, if the human body you’re in gets damaged, you suffer the effects, but like Sandalphon here said, that can be healed. Even if we fix it so you can’t do it yourself, maybe your boyfriend in the shades can pull some… hamster… out of his hat.”

“Rabbit,” Aziraphale corrected. He didn’t particularly want to participate in this conversation anymore, but he couldn’t sit by as Gabriel got such a basic aspect of magic wrong.

Gabriel waved a hand dismissively. “Rabbit, right. Anyway, damaging the vessel won’t help in the long-run, so I thought… damage the celestial body instead.” He turned to his right. “That sound good to you, Sandalphon?” He turned back to Aziraphale, “Smiting’s his department, as you know.”

“Erm…” Aziraphale said. He didn’t like the way this was going. Not that he had expected to like the way this conversation went, but he really didn’t like it. “Damage?” he asked. “You’re going to damage me?”

“Yup. You’re going to like this… well, no. You’re going to hate it, but I’m going to like it. “Now, wounding the celestial body is a little trickier, but we came up with something. Well, Beez did. Hellfire!” he smiled like a gameshow host introducing the top prize. “If it gets bright enough, I think we can burn out every one of those eyes of yours.”

A chill passed through him; a coldness so deep within him that it felt as though his very soul was turning to ice.

“I wonder if you’ll keep the bookshop.” Gabriel mused as he turned to leave. “I mean, once you can’t read the books, will there really be any point?”

As he and the other angels walked away, a demon entered the room. He glared menacingly at the three retreating angels. Eventually, his gaze fell on Aziraphale, still tied to the chair in the middle of the room. Aziraphale wasn’t sure, but he thought he might have detected a flash of sympathy in the demon’s eyes. It was gone as soon as he noticed it. Probably his imagination.

“We’ll be outside,” Gabriel said to the demon, who, with a wave of his hand, lit a fire in the centre of the room. “Give us a shout when it’s safe for us to come in and collect him.”

Aziraphale wanted to shout after them; to beg and plead for them to reconsider. The words died in his throat; he knew that it would do no good. Their minds were made up, and had been made up long before they had brought him here. There was no hope for mercy. Not from Gabriel.

The only thing that he could do now, was to try not to let them see his fear.

#good omens #good omens fanfic #aziraphale #gabriel #gabriel is awful #alternatives #this one is particularly cruel #I'm sorry

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eveningstarcatcher · 4 years

Text

Ineffable Valentines Day 27: All This Time

“What would you say to some travelling?” Crowley was staring at the lovely blue of Aziraphale’s eyes across the table of his favorite sushi restaurant.

Aziraphale froze. “Travelling?” He asked, chopsticks stopping halfway to his mouth.

He had been recounting a tale of the rude customer that had nearly dog-eared a first edition Wilde that morning, mid-sentence when the demon spoke.

“Yeah. Just a thought. Don’t have to.” Crowley sat up, misinterpreting Aziraphale’s reaction.

“Oh, no, that sounds lovely, dear! You just surprised me.” The angel smiled sweetly at his partner. “Did you have someplace in mind?”

“Yeah, but it’s kind of a surprise. S’that okay?” Crowley suddenly seemed so unsure of himself.

Aziraphale secretly loved the moments where Crowley reached out like this - with something sweet and new. The moments where he second guessed, where he had to work upthe courage to mention something or to ask the question he'd been trying to get out for hours, maybe even days or weeks. He was overjoyed that after 6000 years, they could still surprise each other, still find uncharted territory, still find pleasure in new things.

“A surprise?” Aziraphale’s eyes glittered and he wiggled delightedly in his seat. “Of course that’s okay! You know that I trust you completely.” He reached over the table and placed his hand over Crowley’s.

“Yeah, good. Next weekend?” A light blush was creeping across the demon’s cheeks, which made Aziraphale smile in that crinkly-eyed way that made Crowley’s heart race.

“Sounds perfect.”

The next weekend Crowley and Aziraphale settled into the Bentley for the trip to the airport.

“I don’t mean to ruin this, but how am I to get there without knowing where we’re going? There will be signs, announcements, and it’ll be printed on the tickets.” Aziraphale wrung his hands in his lap. He was looking forward to finding out the answer to their mysterious destination, but was enjoying the anticipation, the guessing, the sly smile on Crowley’s face as he relished knowing something the angel didn’t.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got it all sorted.” Crowley winked and took Aziraphale’s hand in his.

Aziraphale didn’t have to wait long to find out what Crowley had meant by that. He had somehow miracled the entire airport so that every time someone spoke the name of their destination or Aziraphale laid eyes on its name in type it was changed to “London”.

The tickets were printed from London to London, when their flight was called the peppy woman called for passengers London.

“Clever,” Aziraphale mused as he held his boarding pass to the woman.

“Thank you, angel. Now you gotta promise not to look out the window on the plane. And I’m afraid once we arrive you can’t look around at all.” Crowley was smirking again.

“Please don’t tell me I have to wear a blindfold!”

Crowley laughed at the horrorstruck expression on the angel’s face.

“Only if you want to. I did get one in tartan, just in case.” Crowley shrugged one shoulder to call attention to his carry on bag that was slung over it. “Up to you, angel.”

“Won’t that look suspicious?” Aziraphale asked, settling into his seat.

“Humans won’t notice, only the two of us. What do you think?” Crowley slumped into his seat.

“Alright,” Aziraphale nodded.

“Really? I thought it’d take a lot more convincing than that.” Crowley blinked in surprise.

“Oh, I haven’t ruined it have I?” Aziraphale’s hands fluttered to his lap, but Crowley grabbed them in one of his before they could wring themselves.

“Not at all. It’s nice to see how much you trust me.” He ran his fingertips against Aziraphale’s cheek, then lifted his chin to press a chaste kiss to his lips.

“How much longer, my dear?” Aziraphale asked. He was trying to sound peppy, but he was tired. He had been blindfolded a few hours now, during which Crowley kept reminding him to act like he could see, otherwise he would call attention to them as the angel stumbled through the airport. Crowley had done his best, holding his hand, guiding him with an arm around his waist, but the angel was nearly useless without his sight. They both breathed a sigh of relief when they were safely seated in the taxi.

“Not much longer, dove. You’ve been wonderful. I think it will be worth it.” A note of worry played in Crowley’s voice and Aziraphale jumped to reassure him.

“I’m sure it will be! I am quite looking forward to seeing where you’ve whisked me away to. It’s all quite romantic, you know!” Aziraphale settled his head against Crowley’s shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah.” Aziraphale knew that Crowley had rolled his eyes, and couldn’t help but smile as the demon’s arm made its way around his shoulders.

“We’re almost there, just a little further.” Crowley had both of Aziraphale’s hands in his and was walking backwards, leading the angel to the perfect spot.

“You said that ten minutes ago!” Aziraphale pointed out with a smirk.

“What’s ten minutes when you’ve been alive over 6.000 years, angel?” Crowley dropped his hands.

“Fair point.” Aziraphale smiled. “Are we here?”

He felt Crowley step to his side and take a deep breath.

“Yeah, we’re here.” The demon reached up and pulled the blindfold from Aziraphale’s eyes.

Aziraphale gasped as he was nearly blinded by the light. The sun was bright and warm, but there was something more to this place, something ancient and lovely and full of love. It was pulsing around him as his eyes adjusted.

They stood on lush green grass, surrounded by trees, bushes, and flowers in a rainbow of colors. It smelled of clean air and plant life, thriving and joyful. The sky was a clear blue overhead and there were mountains standing tall, guarding this beautiful place. The whole place felt of love and nature, serene and perfect. Nearly paradise.

“Oh, Crowley!” Aziraphale sighed, eyes wide with wonder, soaking everything in. “It feels like Eden!”

He turned to face Crowley, who had a wide, lovesick, grin on his face.

“I thought so too. Saw pictures online and knew I had to take you here. Walk through the garden with you again.”

Aziraphale’s eyes brimmed with tears.

“You know, I wanted to. I wanted to spend every moment in the garden with you, feeling the warmth of the sun, seeing your smile. I wanted to reach out and take your hand, hold you in my arms, lay next to you in the grass.” Crowley was staring up at the mountain peaks, remembering their meeting on the wall that towered above the first garden. “I tried to make our own garden, but nothing compared to how beautiful you were, are.” Crowley reached up and removed his glasses, turning his attention to the angel. “ You were the most beautiful thing in Eden.”

Aziraphale collapsed into Crowley’s arms.

“How long have you been trying to find a new Eden?” Aziraphale’s voice was small, throat tight with tears.

“Since Eden.”

“All this time?” Aziraphale raised his head to gaze into those yellow eyes that he had first seen in serpent form.

“I just wanted one more day there, to spend with you.” Crowley held the angel’s face gently between his hands.

“Let us have it then.” Aziraphale snapped his fingers and there was a ripple in the air that felt like electricity.

Aziraphale stood before him, draped in pure white robes, his hair glowing like a halo in the sunlight. Crowley felt the breeze running through his long curls, his dark robe fluttering around his ankles.

“Missing something, I think.” Crowley muttered with a wink. He stretched his wings out, catching the light and glistening in hints of purple, blue, and red among the black. “Your turn, angel.”

Azirphale was staring at Crowley, eyes wide, jaw dropped, blushing deeply. Crowley was overwhelmed by the powerful waves of love crashing over him.

“You’re stunning,” Aziraphale whispered, stepping closer to Crowley. He twined a red curl around his finger as he stared at the figure before him, head tilted to the side. “I love you so completely, Crowley. I will never truly understand why you have trusted me with your heart, but I am so entirely grateful for it and I promise to treasure it always.”

“ Angel ,” Crowley fought back the tears stinging at his eyes and he drew Aziraphale to his chest. “You know I’ve loved you since that first day in the garden.”

“All this time,” Aziraphale whispered.

He smiled as he gazed over the beauty of the garden, their new Eden, a better Eden.

In this Eden, he was in Crowley’s arms.

Safe.

Free.

Loved.

For @mielpetite‘s @ineffable-valentines Also on A03

#ineffablevalentines #ineffable valentines #good omens #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #fic #go fic #gofic #my writing

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ourloveisforthelovely · 5 years

Text

Time to Waste 9

Good Omens

Link to Chapter 8

Pairings: Gabriel x Reader/Crowley x Aziraphale

_________

Still friends?

Over the following few weeks you began to wonder just what Gabriel’s definition of still friends actually meant? Gabriel didn’t stick around much. He claimed to be “working” on something. He didn’t even begin to elaborate on where he was going or what he was doing.

He would turn up every couple of days to see how Matilda and yourself were doing but he never stayed long. Part of you wondered if this had to do with Gabriel still not being 100% comfortable with his daughter. If that was the problem, Gabriel never let on. In the beginning, Gabriel would freeze for a moment when Matilda would wrap herself around his legs but that quickly changed. He didn’t hesitate to hold her for a few moments now.

Matilda was busy using Gabriel’s cluelessness to her advantage. If she wanted something, all that she had to do was tell her father. Gabriel would make whatever it was happen. There had been a few times that you had to step in and say no.

Maybe Gabriel was seeing someone else. You immediately scoffed at the idea. If Gabriel was seeing someone else then why would have kissed you that day at the aquarium?

You stood in the kitchen and was hovering over a boiling pot of water. When you were stressed, you cooked. You could keep your mind of Gabriel for a bit. If you kept yourself busy then you didn’t have to think about him in the arms of another woman.

The thought was foolish. You knew that you were being stupid thinking it but the immature side in you was going wild. You had expected Gabriel be begging shamelessly for you to take him back. When he was not trying to get you in bed with him, you were surprised! Surprised and slightly hurt was the feeling that you felt a good 95% of the time.

“Get it together, Y/n! You told him that you didn't want this. What do you expect?”

You mentally chided yourself. For once, Gabriel was doing what you asked him to. This time, however, was it really what you wanted? When Gabriel would turn up for a visit, sometimes he would kiss you. Other times, he acted like touching you would doom him straight to hell. On those days, you wanted nothing more than to remind him that the two of you had a four-year-old daughter that he helped to create. Those days, you simply avoided the archangel. You let him have his time with Matilda and stayed away.

Pulling yourself from your thoughts, you turned to look at Matilda. The child sat at the table coloring. She looked up at you with a little smile.

“Alright dear?”

You asked. Matilda nodded.

“I’m super sparkly.”

You turned with a smile. Hopefully, Matilda wasn’t listening to your thoughts. You didn’t want her to be worried about “grown-up problems.” When she didn’t say anything, you were confident that she was worried about something else.

The front door opening and closing quickly got your attention again. Matilda had slid out of her chair and took off down the hall. When Matilda took off like that you knew that it meant Gabriel was back. Fighting the feeling of excitement and hope, you quickly turned back to the simmering pot in front of you.

You smiled hearing Matilda’s chattering mixed in with Gabriel maybe getting one or two words in.

Time to figure something out….

You muttered. It was time to figure out just what Gabriel was to you. What if he didn’t want you back? What if he really thought about things and decided that he would rather just help raise Matilda without any romance thrown your way? You mentally put a hand over your face. When he started “thinking.” things could potentially get dangerous!

Without thinking, you moved your hand too close to the pot. You yanked your hand back the moment the burning sensation hit you.

“Son of a bitch!”

You squealed.

“Mommy! You said bitch!”

You quickly turned around to see Gabriel in the door with Matilda in his arms. As soon as she said “bitch” Matilda put her hand over her mouth.

“Matilda.”

Gabriel said her name calmly. Matilda sighed.

“I’ll go put myself in the corner.”

Gabriel sat Matilda down as she walked into the other room. He turned his attention back to you.

“What did you do now?”

“Burnt my hand. I wasn’t paying attention. Imagine that.”

You said, trying to laugh. Gabriel rolled his eyes. He walked over to you and took your hand in his.

“You are always hurting yourself.”

“I guess it is one of my talents?”

You suggested as he healed the ruined skin.

“Apparently so.”

Gabriel replied. You swallowed back the subject that you really wanted to talk about. Gabriel was in one of his “moods.” This was the time that you didn’t really want to be around the archangel.

“Anything new happen while I have been away?”

Gabriel asked as he turned his back to you. You shook your head. Gabriel had been gone 3 weeks this time. 3 long weeks! This was giving you enough time to tell the demon in your to shut up and realize that you deserve to be loved too! Gabriel was bad at loving at points but he tried.

“No, not really. You’ve been gone a while this time.”

Gabriel nodded and sat down at the table. He smirked at the picture of a cat that Matilda had clearly been working on.

“I have a lot to do.”

You swallowed. Maybe you needed to put your snark on the back burner and let him see what was really going on inside.

“I’m sure. Matilda and I have missed you.”

Gabriel didn’t let any kind of emotion. He didn’t even both looking up at you for a few more moments.

“The two of you appear fine.”

You made yourself hold back the emotions that were beginning to boil in your stomach.

“We...I wish that you wouldn’t stay gone the way that you do.”

Gabriel sighed and looked up finally. This conversation would have been a lot easier if he wasn’t in such a horrible mood!

“What do you want me to say, Y/n? I am not here to cater to your every whim!”

You shook your head and turned back to the stove.

“What?”

Gabriel asked. You didn’t turn back to him.

“Nothing.”

You knew that you were not going to get anywhere with him today! The sound of the chair pushing back got your attention. Gabriel had moved right behind you.

“Talk, Y/n.”

You took a breath.

“So what is going on with us?”

“Us?”

Gabriel questioned. He frowned as though this was some foreign subject. You nodded.

“Yes! Us! You and I! What is going on?”

Gabriel shrugged, giving you an innocent smirk.

“Nothing, I suppose. I thought that we were just friends.”

The feeling of depression hit you like a sack of bricks to the stomach.

“Is that it?

Gabriel sighed.

“What do you want me to say, Y/n? One moment, you want me. The next you don’t. I don’t have the patience for your indecisiveness.”

You looked away, fighting the urge to cry.

“I only said that I didn’t think that it was good for us to start sleeping together right away! Are you seeing other people?”

Gabriel rolled his eyes.

“I have been out a few times. “

That was all that you could handle. You turned and headed for the door.

“Funny how you say that we are just friends but there are sometimes that you are more than happy to act like my boyfriend and other times, like today, you are a giant dickwad. Well, you don’t have to worry about it now.”

Gabriel turned and walked from the house without another word. He didn’t want to deal with a hysterical woman at the moment!

An hour later, however, Gabriel had calmed down enough to start feeling guilty about what happened. He did love you but was also confused as to what was really going on between the two of you. You were right to want to take things slow. The last time that the two of you were hopping into bed together along came Matilda and four years of silence.

Walking back into the house, Gabriel held roses in one hand. After watching some sappy commercial, he figured that bringing you a gift may earn him some points.

Crowley looked up from the book he was reading as Gabriel stepped into the living room.

“Come to cause Y/n more trouble?”

Gabriel sighed.

“She told you?”

Crowley shrugged making sure to be as sassy as possible.

“I am her father.”

Gabriel muttered a few things under his breath.

‘I handled that wrong. I think she and I need to talk.”

Matilda looked up from the board game that she was playing with Aziraphale.

“Mommy isn’t here.”

Gabriel felt even worse knowing that his daughter had just heard everything. He turned back to Crowley.

“Where is she?”

Crowley smirked.

“Her friend Cami came for a visit. They are out looking for a better class of man.”

“Yeah, where is that?”

Gabriel snapped. Crowley grinned.

“Anywhere really.”

Gabriel sat down as Matilda walked over and climbed on his lap.

“Cami is where brain cells go to die.”

Crowley choked back a laugh while Aziraphale shook his head.

“That isn’t nice, sweetheart.”

Matilda held her hands up.

“I say that because Cami thinks that we are normal people. She’s also a walking anxiety commercial.”

Gabriel, having enough put a hand on his face.

“Stop.”

Matilda was clearly amazed that Gabriel actually told her to stop doing something for once. She frowned and put her arms over her chest. Gabriel stood up and motioned to the stairs.

“I think that you should go to bed.”

Crowley and Aziraphale went back to the TV show that they were watching when Gabriel followed Matilda upstairs.

“He’s doing better at the whole father thing.”

Aziraphale commented as took a sip of his tea. Crowley made a disgusted face.

“He’s so clueless that it is pathetic! Right now he is just pouting because Y/n gave him a taste of his own medicine ...which he deserves.”

Aziraphale nodded.

“Yes, he does but the two of them probably shouldn’t be doing all of this around Matilda. She picks up on stuff very quickly.”

Before Crowley could, respond the shrill sound of Matilda screaming filled the room. Aziraphale dropped the tea biscuit that he was holding.

“What’s going on up there?”

Aziraphale questioned. Crowley smirked.

“Gabriel is learning his first real lesson as a father. How to survive a tantrum.”

Aziraphale winced as Matilda started screaming at Gabriel to put her down. Two seconds later Gabriel walked in with Matilda under one arm. Crowley had to resist the urge to laugh and encourage his granddaughter to give her father hell.

“Like little alligators, huh?”

Crowley asked with a smirk as Matilda tried to bite Gabriel’s hand. Gabriel looked totally perplexed by the fit the kid was throwing.

“If you bit me again...I will lock you in a closet until your mother gets home!”

Matilda grinned.

“I’ll let myself out.”

Crowley stood up with a smile.

“Candy usually works.”

He said and made a lollipop appear in his hand. Crowley held the treat out to Matilda. The little girl had stopped her struggling and was eyeing the treat.

“If I give you this then will you please do whatever your father wanted before he has a complex?”

Matilda nodded eagerly and took Crowley’s peace offering. Gabriel sat Matilda down and she ran off into another room. Crowley gave Gabriel a shit-eating grin.

“That’s how you do it.”

Gabriel looked annoyed as he did the day that the apocalypse failed to happen.

“Right. Tell Y/n, when she gets home...I want to talk to her.”

Meanwhile,

You sat at a half-empty bar as Cami downed some booze. She was in her usual happy mood.

“I figured that you would want to drink more.”

She stated and pushed a half-empty shot of whiskey to you. You shook your head.

“Nah, booze won’t help this problem.”

Cami was quiet for a moment.

“Can I be honest with you?”

You nodded.

“Please do.”

If Cami had any good advice at the moment then you would be happy to take it! This day had to be one of the worst in a long time! You were kicking yourself forever coming back to England. If you had just stayed in Germany or Switzerland then you would have never ran back into Gabriel.

The only thing that you were thankful for was having Aziraphale and Crowley again. If you left with Matilda again, they would be shattered and so would your daughter!

“Gabriel doesn’t deserve your sadness. He knocked you up, treats you like crap, and you just keep letting him. This isn’t like you Y/n. You act like he is some kind of angel to man or something.”

You internally giggled at that. Cami sighed.

“I am just tired of seeing you hurt.”

You nodded.

“Me too. Well, you don’t have to worry about it. After today, I think that it is safe to say that Gabriel and I are over. I should probably get back home. Dad will probably be feeding Matilda ice cream until she goes into a sugar coma.”

Walking back into the house, you smiled seeing Crowley watching some kind of chick flick. You knew better than to ask him about his random TV selections. He looked up and smiled seeing you.

“Have a good time?”

You put your coat on the rack before turning back to your father.

“It's always a blast watching Cami drink.”

Crowley looked back to the TV for a moment.

“Your day is about to get a lot better. Gabriel is upstairs waiting for you.”

Your mouth dropped! This was the last thing that you expected.

“What?”

Crowley nodded.

“He feels like the giant asshole that he is. Matilda gave him hell too which was a joy to watch.”

You put a hand over your face. This was the last thing that you really felt like dealing with at the moment.

“I guess I better go deal with him.”

Crowley sighed.

“Good luck.”

You muttered “I’ll need it” under your breath before going to the stairs. Looking up the stairs, you sighed. What was waiting for you up there? Was it asshole Gabriel or the Gabriel that you loved? Time would only tell.

_____

@brokencasbutt67-writer

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@marichromatic

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#Good Omens #Gabriel x Reader #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale #good omens fan fiction #Gabirel #crowley #Aziraphale #good omens reader insert

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luckyspike · 5 years

Text

Familiar, but not too familiar

I would like to dedicate this fanfiction to the McElroy brothers, Hasbro, the artist geothebio, my sofa, a patient that one time told me he tried to destroy a Ouija board and it caught fire and he almost died, some of the not-spooky parts of Paranormal Activity, and my stupid brain. Oh and also Good Omens. Thank you to John Roderick and the Long Winters for the title of this fanfiction, It’s a Departure off of their album Putting the Days to Bed, and thank you to the Maximum Fun Network for hosting some podcasts I enjoy.

The Ouija board is Brian’s. His parents got it for him for his fifteenth birthday, and during one summer night after the end of the school year, the Them found themselves studying it by light of a lantern, in a tent in their hollow. “My parents,” Wensleydale says, “said that we aren’t to play with Ouija boards, because they’re the vessels of demons.”

“Yeah, well,” Adam shrugs. “I mean so what? Why bother, then?”

“Yeah,” Pepper seconds. “If we want to talk to a demon we can just call Crowley - no need to mess around with this whole board situation.”

“It’s supposed to tell you the future,” Brian says, sullenly, arms crossed over his chest.

“Anathema could tell us the future,” Wensleydale says.

“But she doesn’t. We could ask it all kinds of questions.” He picks up the planchette. “And anyway, it might not be a demon. They’re called spirit boards, aren’t they? Might be a ghost.” He sighs, and sags a little. “Come on, guys, at least it’ll be a laugh.”

Pepper looks to Adam. “I don’t think -”

“Yeah, I’m not playing,” Adam says, before she can finish. “If you guys want to, that’s fine, but I’ll watch. Just … I dunno, just in case, I guess.” Wensleydale and Brian nod, solemn, and Pepper sighs.

“I’ll play. But for the record, I think this is stupid.” Brian beams, though, and she helps set the board on the lid of the box, which is the flattest surface they can find in the tent. Adam doesn’t move, but he keeps his arms wrapped around his knees, nose wrinkled in thought.

He isn’t sure this is a very good idea. It has been four years since the Nah-pocalypse, and Crowley and Aziraphale and Anathema have all taught him all kinds of things about the occult, although nobody has ever mentioned Ouija boards. He’d certainly never seen any of them with one. It’s probably, he thinks, perfectly safe. It’s a game, after all, and they sell them at stores all over - it’s not as if the company has necromancers binding demons to each board. But still …

“Alright,” Brian says, seated at the top of the board. “Nobody move the planchette.”

“Duh,” says Pepper.

“Right. I’ll start. So, uh, mighty - mighty?” He glances to Adam, who shrugs. “Might Ouija. It is me, Brian, coming to seek wisdom. Is there a spirit here with us?”

Nothing happens for a minute. Adam, internally, breathes a sigh of relief. But then the planchette moves. Slowly, achingly slowly, it slides to ‘Yes’.

Brian, Wensleydale, and Pepper exchange a look. “I didn’t do it,” Wensley says in hushed tones.

“Me neither,” Brian and Pepper agree.

Adam shifts, suddenly uncomfortable. “This might be a bad idea.”

Wensley manages a weak smile at Adam. “Nah, I’m sure we’re all just moving it subconsciously together.”

“What’s your name?” Brian asks, shakily, and Adam glares at him. The planchette moves faster this time, but the board still isn’t quite even, and it catches. The four watch intently, lips moving as it stops on each letter in turn, and they don’t look away when it comes to a rest back in the center of the board. “Nancy?” Brian cocks his head. “Who’s Nancy?”

“I thought it spelled ‘Kelly’,” Pepper says.

Dog whines.

“Alright, that’s it, let’s put it back in the box,” Adam says suddenly. “You know, I dunno if we should take it to Anathema tomorrow or whatever, but definitely time to put it away -”

“Yep,” Pepper agrees, withdrawing her hand as if she’d been burned. Brian and Wensley follow suit almost instantly. “Yep, absolutely, we’ll take it to Anathema tomorrow and -”

The planchette moves again. The three human teenagers scream, and the former antichrist winces. This time it doesn’t catch, there’s no halting movement. ‘A D A M Y O U N G’ it spells.

“Oh, shit,” says Adam, before the four teens and the dog bolt from the tent.

The path from the hollow to Jasmine cottage is well-worn, these days, and they don’t need a lantern to get there in the dark. Still, they aren’t stealthy about it, and before they can reach Anathema’s door she is out of bed and pulling her robe on, less out of a sense of premonition and more because they sound of four teenagers crashing through the underbrush, with accompaniment of a frantically barking dog, is fairly difficulty to sleep through. Newton stirs, but she slips from the room and to the front door, pulling it open before Pepper can bring her hand down for the first knock. They all scream. Anathema blinks.

“What’s going on?”

“I didn’t mean it!” Brian says frantically. “I thought it would be a laugh!”

“Brian talked us into a Ouija board,” Pepper explains, when Anathema raises a hand to stop the taller boy.

Adam adds quickly, “I told them it was probably a bad idea. I didn’t touch it.”

Anathema’s eyebrows are raised. “Like the board game?”

“It moved on its own,” Wensleydale insisted. “No, miss, really, I know it sounds crazy, but it did, honestly.”

“It spelled my name,” Adam said quietly. “And they weren’t even touching it.”

“Oh.” Anathema is just about to say that she’s sure there is a logical explanation for this - it’s a board game, for goodness’ sake - when Dog begins his frantic barking once again, this time directed at the garden gate. They all look.

The board is propped up against the gatepost, planchette in the grass just in front of it. It glows.

“Ah.” Anathema swallows, and steps aside. “Why don’t you kids come in. I’ll make tea. And Adam, I’d call your godfathers.”

By all the map applications, it takes approximately 2 hours to get from South Downs to Tadfield. In reality, Crowley and Aziraphale arrive at Jasmine Cottage exactly seventy-five minutes after Adam called them and explained the situation. Anathema, Dog, and the Them meet them in the front garden, while the engine of the Bentley quietly cools at the curb. The notes of Queen still hang in the air, faint as the smell of lilac on the breeze.

“I thought you said it was in the front garden,” Aziraphale says, looking around. “By the gate?”

“It was when I called you,” Adam says, looking miserable. “Sorry, guys, I knew it was a bad idea, really, I should have talked Them out of it more -”

“I should have listened,” Brian whimpers.

“Not to worry, my dear boy, they sell them in every games shop. You weren’t to know.” Aziraphale pats Adam on the shoulder, and Brian as well.

“So it moved inside?” Crowley asks.

Anathema nods, slowly. “Ye-es. How did you -?”

“I recognize the style. What’s it doing now?”

“Well,” Pepper says hesitantly, “we tried to set it on fire -” Crowley winces “- Yeah. And then when it didn’t catch Anathema drew a circle around it with salt and it’s just sitting on the table. The planchette keeps moving.”

“What’s it spelling?”

“My name,” Adam says glumly. “And ‘kill’ and either Kelly or Nancy, we’re not sure. And then it just, bounces back and forth, left-to-right.”

“Sometimes it makes a figure-of-eight,” Wensleydale adds. Crowley groans.

“Well, that’s alright then. Come on, we can sort this out in a minute.” He pushes past the group and into the cottage, taking a few backwards steps while he asks, “Where’s Newt?”

“Upstairs, asleep.” Anathema sounds somewhat testy about it. Aziraphale tuts, and follows Crowley, indicating for the others to follow.

“Knew I liked him,” Crowley says.

“Just stay behind me,” Aziraphale adds.

In the kitchen, the Ouija board is on the table, surrounded by a circle of salt. The planchette is on fire, swinging right-to-left across the face of the board in a smooth arc. Crowley looks annoyed as he breaks the salt circle from the outside. “Alright, Zozo that’s enough.” The planchette stops for a minute, and then begins to slide across the board. “Don’t do the spelling thing, I don’t have all night.”

There is a flash and a whiff of sulfur and ozone, and then there is a demon standing on the table. They are short, and stout, with frizzled dark hair and smoke rising from their shoulders and a big, toothy grin. “Crawly! It’s been ages!”

“Yeah, it’s Crowley now. Are you still possessing these things?”

“And you’re with the angel, still,” the demon - Zozo, presumably - says, ignoring the question, and taking in the cadre standing in the door to the kitchen. “Oh, and the witch, nice work on the salt circle here, and yes, the young Mr. Young! I’ve heard so much about you.”

“You have?” Adam asks, sounding distinctly unhappy about it.

“Of course! You were the talk of the town Down There after the whole business with the Apocalypse. My if the higher-ups weren’t furious about the whole thing! But I said, he’s his father’s son, I said, rebellious to the last and -”

“That’s enough,” Aziraphale snaps, in a tone that brooked no argument. Zozo’s jaw clapped shut.

“Well, in a good way,” they said then, after a minute. “Saving Earth instead of destroying it? I tell you what, kid, and don’t let anyone hear me say this, present company excepted, but that was some real slick work.” Zozo winks then, and Crowley groans. “Us Earthside agents weren’t all gung-ho for the whole war business. You guys have some pretty sweet digs going up here.”

“Alright, yes, that’s great Zozo, why are you still possessing Ouija boards?” Crowley groans. “You got freed from that bargain centuries ago, I thought. Just after - was it during the Qing dynasty?”

“During, actually,” Zozo corrects, sitting down on the table and toying with the planchette. “Yeah, I was, but you know, well, the tempting still needed to be done, and old habits and all.”

“Ah.” Aziraphale nods. “And you were going to tempt Adam and his friends, were you?”

“Me? No, angel, never.” Zozo scoffs, and raises their hands placatingly. “What, you think I would go up against Adam Young, former antichrist? Me? A demon of the first circle? Minor tempter and general nuisance Zozo?” Aziraphale shrugs. “No, never. I just wanted to say hello.”

“Well you picked a creepy way of doing it,” Adam snaps. “You didn’t have to follow us. Or catch fire. Or all that.”

“Everybody’s got to have some style, right, Crowley?” Zozo turns to smile at their fellow demon, and when their enthusiasm was met with a scowl, they shrank a little. “Right. Okay, so it was creepy. Noted. Sorry.”

Crowley sniffs. “I think you ought to go.”

“I’m getting that message, yeah.” Zozo raises a finger. “But, uh, a word of advice? To the kids?”

“Depends,” Aziraphale and Crowley say in unison, and then look embarrassed about it. Zozo just grins.

“Not temptation I promise. Like I said, don’t let anybody catch me giving you this tip, though. I’m not immune to Holy Water.” Zozo spares a glance to Crowley, and then lowers their voice and says, “Adam, listen, you’re lucky it was just me came through tonight, but if I were you I’d get rid of the board, alright? You never know who might show up.”

Adam looks to Crowley and Aziraphale, and then nods. “O-kay. Yeah.” He looks to his friends. “Right?” They nod, fervently. “Right, yeah. Do uh, is there a certain way we have to get rid of it?”

Zozo and Crowley, as one, look amused. “Nah,” says the lesser demon. “This old thing is just cardboard. Doesn’t work unless you really truly believe, and someone on the other end feels like giving you the time of day. But in your case …”

“Yeah. Got it.”

Zozo brightens. “You could probably donate it to a charity or something. Maybe get a tax deduction. Pass the wealth forward, as it were. I promise I won’t tell anybody to murder anyone through it.”

“Hm,” Aziraphale says, lips pressing to a thin line.

“We’ll think about it,” Anathema says, laying a hand on Adam’s shoulder.

“Or just burn it,” Zozo sighs, defeated. “That works too.”

“Much more likely,” Crowley agrees.

“Okay, well, nice meeting you, Adam Young.” Zozo waves, and positions themselves cross-legged on the table, smudged salt ring crackling under their boots. “Good seeing you again, Crowley. If you’re ever around Dallas feel free to stop in.”

“I won’t be.”

“Don’t blame you for that one. Right. Bye!” And with a sort of odd, cold sucking sound, Zozo vanishes, leaving behind a scorched cardboard board and a planchette, clattering to the floor.

Aziraphale breaks the silence. “Well. They seemed alright, for a demon.”

“Don’t start,” Crowley warns. “Right, let’s burn this thing and then you all can go back to - what were you doing?”

“Camping,” Brian says, from behind Anathema, while Crowley collects the board and the planchette.

“Why?”

Adam shrugs. “Dunno. Seemed fun. Hanging out, camping, playing games.”

Aziraphale nods. “Certainly, well, yes, but perhaps next time snakes and ladders might be more apropos.”

“That’s for little kids,” Pepper points out.

“Monopoly?”

Crowley brushes past. “Nice try, angel.”

“Are kids not playing Monopoly anymore?”

“I don’t think they ever were,” Anathema says, laying a sympathetic hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder, as they and the Them follow Crowley into the garden. “It’s a more adult game.”

“Is it? I thought children liked it.”

Wensleydale looks interested. “I always liked it.”

“Yeah,” Pepper says, in the tone of one who has experienced first-hand on numerous occasions Wensleydale’s devoted love of the game of Monopoly. “Yeah, you have. Even though it’s a capitalist propaganda game, and no matter how many times I tell you that.”

“We could go back to my place,” Adam says, while Crowley sets the game board in the firepit and sets it aflame. He does not use a lighter. “Play Fortnite.”

“That wouldn’t be camping, would it?” Brian looks put-out. “I like camping. Being outside.”

Crowley sidles away from the firepit as the flames die down, hands in his pockets. “What’s wrong with normal teen stuff? Smoke some weed, drink some cheap booze -”

“Crowley!” Anathema and Aziraphale say in unison, and Crowley has the decency to look slightly apologetic.

“Right, sorry. Do not do those things, teens, Adam. Stay in school and all that.” He moves toward the Bentley. “You ready to go, angel?”

“Yes, I suppose.” Aziraphale looks to Adam and the Them. “Do have fun camping but please, if you ever get the urge to contact the spirit realm or think you might have a possibility of summoning a demon, please call us first next time. Or if you actually need to summon a demon for some reason -”

“Right, call Crowley, I know.” Adam nods, and smiles. “I got it, I promise. No more occulty stuff without you or Anathema. Right, guys?”

“Right,” the Them agree.

“Promise,” Adam confirms. Aziraphale nods, and turns to head toward the car, and the collected humans wave goodbye. “Drive safe!”

“He doesn’t,” Aziraphale replies with resignation, before the doors to the Bentley close and the car peels off into the night.

“Hey, Adam?” Wensleydale asks, while the watch the car go, “if they’re all supernatural, right? Why do they always drive?”

“Because they’re kind of stupid,” Adam says, still smiling. Anathema covers her mouth with a hand, and turns away. “But that’s alright. Oh. And don’t tell them I said that.”

“You think they know?” Pepper asks. “6000 years, they ought to know.” Anathema has a coughing fit, which sounds suspiciously like laughter, and retreats into the cottage with a hurried ‘goodnight’ to the Them.

Adam begins out of the garden, and his friends fall into formation behind him. “I really don’t think they know. Well. Crowley might suspect it. But he has anxiety so I think he probably tells himself it’s all in his own head.”

Brian nods. “Yeah. I get that. So what’re we gonna do now?”

“Sleep?” Wensleydale suggests. “We could sleep. It’s already half three.”

“Not much point in sleeping then, is there?” Pepper points out. “You know, I did bring Clue.”

“I like Clue,” Brian says eagerly.

Adam nods, and Dog bounds at his side, back toward the tent. “Yeah. Me too. And you can’t summon any demons with Clue, so that’s alright for tonight.”

#good omens #i wish i didn't enjoy fanfiction so much #please watch geothebio's animations from mbmbam #including how to properly get rid of a ouija board #oh no i am writing found family fanfiction again #im so fucking predictable #ineffable husbands #the them #anathema device

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our-smooty · 4 years

Text

Flowerbeds and Fertile Soil: Chapter 8

Fandom: Good Omens

Rating: Explicit

Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens, )Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer

Tags: Kidfic, Mpreg kind of, they can choose to present however so idk, Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Has A Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has A Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has A Vulva (Good Omens), OCs Galor, parenting, using your snake form to avoid confrontation, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Pregnancy, if I missed a tag lemme know

Summary: They could do anything, go anywhere, all without the worry of Above or Bellow making a fuss. Even so, they mostly kept to their little patch of Eden, their cottage and garden and the simple life they’d carved out among the locals. Aziraphale opened a book shop in town, where he only occasionally sold any books (and the ones he did sell, were all modern and stocked specifically for that purpose). Crowley focused his attentions on the garden, and if he occasionally helped their elderly neighbour with her disobedient willow tree, then that was a secret no one needed to know. Lately, however, they had both been feeling rather restless, unbeknownst to each other. Aziraphale tried reorganizing his store, changing the way he tied his bowtie and even ate pizza –something he considered to be far too messy for him personally. Crowley had branched out into birdwatching, and then car maintenance (the human way), and even reading. Nothing scratched the itch for either of them.

Ao3 Link

“Was it something I said?” Newt asked as soon as Crowley had cleared the dining room. Everyone had gone quiet around the table, even the girls who had been previously chattering happily. Aziraphale shook his head with a small sigh. Though the paella still looked delicious, he’d lost his appetite.

“No, not really. How were you to know that he’s been so very… sensitive about the issue of our baby,” he said, hoping to assuage any guilt the young man might have.

“I thought something felt off when I mentioned it to him,” Anathema chimed in, looking only slightly less guilt than Newton

“I should have warned you he’s been a tad flighty, it’s my fault my dears.” Aziraphale waffled for a minute because he wasn’t sure how much Crowley would approve of him sharing. Probably nothing, but that didn’t seem like it was going to be possible in these circumstance. “Crowley wasn’t fully on board to, er, start a family initially. But then our situation improved, and he changed his mind only I’m not so sure we went about things the right way.”

Not for the first time, Aziraphale wished he’d insisted they talk about things more thoroughly before getting carried away. It wasn’t that he was doubting that Crowley wanted to have a baby with him, not really, but more that the demon was still harbouring some anxieties about what that actually meant. Even though God Herself had told them they would be safe, and their child fine, Crowley always had been full of questions and anxieties. Aziraphale had had a few moments of panic of his own, so he couldn’t imagine what kind of things Crowley was cooking up in his own mind.

“Crowley is very private. And for some reason he’s got it in his head that this whole matter is extremely personal. He won’t even talk to me about most things, I’m afraid,” he explained, trying the phrase things in a way that would cause the least amount of damage if Crowley were to overhear. “He’s been lying about the morning sickness and dizzy spells. He seems to think I don’t notice”

Anathema nodded along, still eating from her plate. Annabella and Charlotte had begun playing with their food more than eating it, though they remained reasonably quiet. “Doesn’t surprise me. It took him how many thousand years to confess he was madly in love with you?”

Aziraphale blushed. Over 6000 years, and at least 4000 of those he had also been aware of his feelings for the demon (more likely he’d felt that way from the beginning and not admitted it to himself until that first dinner they’d had--oysters at Patroneous’). They’d probably spoken more about their feelings in the past 10 years than the entire 6000. And even then they often left things unsaid out of pure habit. Perhaps that was exactly what Crowley was doing now, and really it was Aziraphale causing the problem by expecting something different.

“I thought he trusted me,” he said quietly, staring down at the table. Suddenly he realized that he was essentially complaining about his relationship issues much more than either human probably wanted to hear about. “Terribly sorry, forget I said anything. I’ll speak with him later, I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding.”

Anathema raised an eyebrow, clearly not ready to let this die. Newt seemed to pick up on her energy and slowly began clearing the empty dishes away. The girls took this to mean they were excused and quickly scampered away to their bedrooms, eager to get back to their toys.

“Listen, Aziraphale. I’m not going to pretend to know half of what you two have going on,” Anathema started, her voice matter-of-fact, “and honestly I don’t have that much relationship advice to give, since I always knew I’d end up with Newt eventually from Anges’ book. But I do know you need to talk to each other. All the love in the world isn’t going to keep a relationship going if you don’t talk about things.”

This was the reason why Aziraphale loved humans. They could be so honest and willing to help, even when they didn’t have to be. “Thank you, my dear girl. You’re right of course, we’ve fallen into some very bad habits that are in need of addressing.”

Aziraphale stood to help Newt with the dishes, but he was waved off. “Why don’t you go see how he's doing out there? It’s been a while and we do have a dishwasher.” Aziraphale was doubtful of the machine's ability to stand up to Newton's general inability to use technology, but he was also grateful for the excuse to go check on Crowley.

“Thank you. I’m sorry again for making a bit of a scene. The food was delightful as always, Anathema,” he said. Anathema smiled and got up herself, most likely to check on the suspiciously quiet children.

Outside, the weather was much the same as it had been when they arrived--warm with just a hint of autumn chilliness in the air. The trees were all still green for the most part, though a few had started to yellow at the edges. Aziraphale was looking forward to the fall because that was when all of his favourite cafes started serving exciting flavours of coffee and cocoa. He shut the front door quietly behind him and made his way to the Bently, still sitting quietly in the driveway.

“Crowley?” he called. The tint on the windows made it impossible to see into the seats so he had to open the doors to check inside. It was empty, which was only a little surprising; Crowley was a restless being and Aziraphale had expected he would go for a walk instead of hanging around the car. There was nothing to be done for it then, and he would just have to wait until the demon came back of his own accord.

“I do hope he isn’t gone too long…” Aziraphale murmured to himself. In the meantime, it couldn’t hurt to do one last check to make sure all the girl’s toys and sleepover items had been returned and weren’t hiding in the backseat or trunk. They didn’t want another incident where they got all the way home, only to discover a precious toy or favourite pair of shoes still tucked away. When he’d confirmed there was nothing in the backseat he popped the boot and went to check there.

“My word!” he gasped. Upon opening the boot he was greeted by several feet of black and red scales. “Crowley, what the devil are you doing in the car boot?”

Crowley’s body shifted, scales sliding against each other with a whisper-soft sound. Eventually, his head appeared to stare unblinkingly at Aziraphale. It was impossible for him to parse the snake’s facial expressions since there really weren’t any, and Aziraphale sighed again. It felt like he’d been doing that more than usual recently.

“Dearest,” he reached out to caress the space between Crowley’s eyes, “are you alright? I have to say finding you hear, like this, is a shock.” Crowley’s head swayed up and down and he bumped his snoot against the angel’s hand, asking for more pets. “Is shifting like this safe for the baby? Not that I don’t trust your judgement.”

Realizing that Crowley couldn’t speak in this form and that he didn’t seem to want to change back, Aziraphale switched gears. “One boop for yes, two for no?” Crowley nudged his nose against Aziraphale’s hand once.

“Very good love. Now, are you alright?” One boop. “And is this safe for the baby.” Another single boop, a little more hesitant this time. “I trust your judgement, Crowley. Do you mind if I stay with you, or do you want me to leave?” Crowley gave him a Look, probably because there was no way to answer that question with their current system. Aziraphale internally cursed; he was so bad at this.

“Do you need some more time to yourself? I won’t be mad if you do,” he said, running his hands along the reddish scales that framed the snake’s eyes. Crowley nosed his face into the touch but didn’t give an answer. “I promise I won’t be angry if you want to be alone for a bit Crowley.”

Instead of answering, Crowley drew back and unfurled himself, slithering out of the trunk into his regular human shape. Aziraphale took a step back to give him space to finish the transformation, busying himself with shutting the boot after all of Crowley’s tail had cleared it.

“I dunno,” Crowley said finally, staring down at the pavement. “You didn’t give me one for that.”

Another internal reprimand. “Apologies, I’ll remember to next time.”

“Can I get a hug?” Crowley asked quietly. He was shuffling his feet and generally looked miserable. Aziraphale didn’t hesitate to scoop him up in his arms.

“You needn’t ask, lovely.” Crowley felt small in his grasp, his height not making up for the fact he was skinny as a twig. “I think we need to have a little chat later though, don’t you?”

“'Bout what?” The question was muffled and a tad whiney. “Nothing to talk about, just fancied a nap.”

“Crowley we both know that isn’t true. I thought you might want to discuss it at home though, where you’d be more comfortable.” There was no answer of course. Aziraphale hadn’t expected this to be easy. Personally, this was incredibly uncomfortable already, but trying to muddle through for Crowley’s sake. This didn’t come naturally to him, all this talking about their feelings, not after 6000 years of hiding. It seemed to him that even though they'd spent the last 10 years together, they really hadn't made much progress.

Crowley stayed silent, burrowing his face deep into the threadbare fabric of Aziraphale’s coat. The angel hummed tunelessly and shifted them from side to side slowly and rhythmically. This, at least, was familiar. This quiet sort of comfort was what he did best, and was often what Crowley asked for. Unfortunately, it wasn’t going to get them any close to talking things through.

“Listen, I know that this whole situation is very strange and that you were uneasy with things from the get-go. I don’t blame you for feeling, unsure, about everything, I just want you to know that.” He was babbling, as he often did when he didn’t know exactly what to say. And as usual it seemed he’d stuck his foot in his mouth because Crowley tensed and pulled his head back, eyes hard and mouth grim.

“I’m not bloody unsure,” he snapped, ready for a fight. Aziraphale could see Crowley getting himself worked up, could see this going much the same as that night two months ago if he didn’t fix things. Only he wasn’t sure how to do that, without knowing what Crowley was thinking.

“Sorry, I--Crowley I just want to help! I-I want you to talk to me, so I can help you,” he pleaded, trying to push all his love and devotion and worry at the other. “Please, just talk to me.”

Crowley struggled in Aziraphale’s arms and wrenched himself free. “I don’t want your help! I don’t want you hovering, a-and fussing! I hate people making a big deal out of this!” He paced along the side of the Bently, his stride long and irate. “It was supposed to be no big deal, yeah? It’s not a big deal, humans do it all the time!”

Aziraphale watched him, afraid to say anything else since he’d messed things up so seriously once again. He felt like he was missing pieces, like he was on a completely different track at all times. If things kept up like this, he wasn’t sure how they were going to make it through.

“I don’t like being treated like an invalid Aziraphale. I hate their pity, and yours too. I just want everything to go back to normal.” Crowley was winding down. Sometimes that happened, he’d run out of steam and out of words and then pop off to his flat for a few days. Leaving Aziraphale to think over and over and over what he could have done better.

“Of course you’re not--I didn’t mean to suggest--I only worry. It’s hard to see you suffering especially when you won’t let me do anything about it and I--”

“I don’t want you to worry about me!” Crowley growled, back on the offensive. “I hate feeling like you--like anyone needs to watch out for me.” Hands wrapped around each other, strangling fingers as the twisted back and forth. “It’s the worst thing, you know. Making you worried about me.”

Trying very, very hard not to reach out and comfort Crowley, Aziraphale mirrored the wringing action of his hands. He couldn’t help it, really, the compulsion to reach out and touch and make things better. But if what Crowley was saying was true, then that was exactly the issue. “You not talking to me makes me worry more!”

Crowley physically recoiled, like Aziraphale had hit him. The angel watched as the carefully constructed walls and barriers behind Crowley’s eyes began to topple faster than he could rebuild them. “This’s stupid. We should have never--”

“Don’t say that!” Aziraphale shouted, his own emotions getting the better of him. “I-I can’t hear you say this was a mistake, that our baby was a mistake. It’ll break me, Crowley, please.”

“Fuck Aziraphale,” Crowley said, taking a sudden sharp breath, “I wasn’t--I don’t think it was a mistake! I was going to say we shouldn’t have come here, stayed for dinner. Do you really think I don’t--that I don’t want it?”

And once again, Aziraphale had stuck his foot in his mouth and jumped to conclusions. He’d made everything worse for Crowley and opened up another pit between them, all because he couldn’t bloody think things through. If one could discorporate from regret, Aziraphale would have been long gone.

“Well I… You seem so miserable, and you won’t talk to me. I just thought you might wish things hadn’t gotten so complicated.” Apologize, you idiot, he told himself. Another old habit he needed to break. “I’m sorry for assuming things. This’s why I wanted to--why we need to talk more.”

The few seconds of silence before Crowley answered felt like years. He took a shaky breath like he needed to and wasn’t just pretending at being a human. Sometime during the argument, his hands had come to wrap around his waist and hips, like he was shielding himself from the harsh words between them. It wasn’t supposed to go like this, he’d wanted to wait until they were home and they could sit down amongst their things and talk about this civilly. They could have even ordered in, gotten out some of the fresh fruit juice Aziraphale had taken to stocking up on, and made an evening of it. An evening that they could have remembered fondly, the point where they finally bloody talked instead of bumbling through things.

“I wanna go home,” Crowley said in response, refusing to make eye contact. “I’ll be in the car, say bye for me yeah?” He was quick to turn around and climb into the drivers seat, slamming the door behind him (though not too hard, ever since it burned Crowley had be extra careful with the Bently). Aziraphale, frozen by the sudden dismissal, could do nothing but watch.

It took him a few seconds to get moving. When he did it was almost automatic. He went up to the door, inside the house, and thanked Anathema and Newt for dinner. Said goodbye to the girls and to Alfred, told them Crowley said goodbye too, all with his usual smile. Aziraphale assured everyone that he and Crowley were fine, and that the demon had begun to feel unwell again so they’d better be off.

All of those goodbyes took much less time than usual, and he used the excuse of Crowley’s discomfort as a crutch to speed them along even further. In total it only took 15 minutes before he was back outside, standing at the passenger side door of the Bently. He didn’t even think of trying the driver's side. No matter how upset Crowley was, he wouldn’t let someone else drive his car. So Aziraphale waited a moment, until the Bently rumbled to life, then opened the door.

Normally Crowley would rib him about taking so long to say goodbye, but not this time. They were both silent as he entered the car. It made Aziraphale extremely nervous, so much so he began to toy with the fraying edges of his waistcoat, endangering their structural integrity. Of course, he could miracle it back into perfect condition, but then it wouldn’t exactly be the same jacket he’d bought over 150 years ago. So halfway through the drive, he had to force his hands to be still by tucking them between his thighs.

Crowley’s face as impassive as he drove. Aziraphale tried not to glance over too much, but he couldn’t help it. Was Crowley angry? Was he upset? When they got home, what was going to happen? Aziraphale’s heart was pounding with anxiety by the time they pulled into the cottage drive, his entire being vibrating with it. Crowley still looked about the same.

“S-so,” Aziraphale started. He was about to begin babbling, all the words he’d kept inside for the past few hours were going to come out in a big messy puddle and probably make things worse. But he couldn’t--he didn’t know how to do this. “I, ah, what I mean to say is--”

“M’tired,” Crowley mumbled, hands still poised on the steering wheel. “And I’m feeling a little, uh, my stomach’s all twisted, like a spring and I don’t wanna be sick all over the Bently so if we could go inside…”

“Of course! Let me--I mean, I’ll get the door and then make us a cuppa?” Much to his relief Crowley nodded and finally, finally looked over at him.

“Did Book Girl give you that tea she was talking about?” Aziraphale was surprised, enough so that he didn’t say anything about the nickname.

“She did, would you like to try some? It smells of peppermint to me.” He hadn’t expected Crowley to want to have anything to do with the things Anathema had given them, nevermind ask about them so soon. But that was good, wasn’t it? Unless he was feeling so awful he was willing to try anything, which in that case Aziraphale felt worse for not noticing.

“Yeah, and some crackers maybe? If you don’t mind,” Crowley added, fidgeting restlessly. “We could, well you could read but I might watch some telly?”

“Sounds lovely dear, I’ll put the kettle on.” He wanted to ask if Crowley needed help getting out of the car, but he had enough sense to know that would probably start another argument. So instead he gave Crowley’s shoulder a squeeze, then got out of the car to go do as he’d been asked. At the very least it gave him something to do, opening the front door with his key the human way, bustling about the kitchen to prepare the tea, spreading the crackers and a few slices of apple with cheese from the garden around a plate. He could hear Crowley come in not long after him and settle down in their living room, followed shortly by the intro to Great British Bake Off.

“Here we are!” Aziraphale announced, balancing two cups of tea and the plate of nibbles as he hurried to the sofa. One cup found its home in front of Crowley, who was staring resolutely at the telly, and the other stayed with Aziraphale. The plate he put between them so they could both enjoy the snacks. Crowley mumbled his thanks and sniffed cautiously at the drink, but he took a sip and didn’t wince, so Aziraphale hoped it was alright.

Again silence settled over them. It wasn’t the companionable silence they often shared while having a snack and enjoying each other's company in the late afternoon. It was a silence of absence, of things left unsaid. It was as bad as in the car.

“Thanks,” Crowley said suddenly, much more clearly this time. “For the tea and the crackers. They help, sort of.”

“Happy to hear it. I don’t mind, you know. Whatever you want I’ll bring it to you,” Aziraphale assured him with a soft smile. The desire to move the plate and scoop the other up and hold him tight. “I’ll wait until you ask though, if that makes it better? I guess I do--I have been hovering something dreadful.”

“You have,” Crowley agreed, taking the tiniest nibble of apple, grimacing and setting it back down. “I could’ve been a bit better about saying something though, I guess. I just, you know what it’s like, down there. I’m not used to… this. Needing help.”

This time Aziraphale did move the plate and shuffle over so he was close enough to lean against Crowley’s side. Crowley leaned into him too and it made the tight coil in Aziraphale’s chest relax slightly.

“I’m not used to playing things by ear. I may have gotten a little swept up in everything and gone overboard with my attentions. I’m sorry for making you feel uncomfortable, but I need you to tell me these things Crowley. I’m not a mind reader.”

Crowley sighed and put his empty teacup down before snuggling into Aziraphale’s side even more. The angel lifted his arm so Crowley could tuck his head into his shoulder. “You could if you wanted. I wouldn’t mind.”

“What, read your mind? I would never invade your privacy like that!” Aziraphale exclaimed. The idea was off-putting, using his Angelic influence on Crowley in that way.

“You’re too good for me angel,” Crowley replied with a hollow chuckle. “I’ll uh, try to say something next time.”

“And I’ll try to hover less. But Crowley?” Crowley made a noise to indicate he was listening, but Aziraphale hesitated. He wanted to tell Crowley that the demon deserved good things, that he deserved to be treated kindly. But that was probably too much for the current moment, so he held his tongue. Instead, he said, “You know I love you, right?”

Crowley cuddled closer. He always did, his snakish instinct to get closer to Aziraphale’s heat often overriding his unconscious mind. “Yeah. Love you too angel.”

The silence that followed was much warmer and more comfortable than the previous ones. Much more like their usual dichotomy. Aziraphale leaned forward a little bit to snag another cracker, which he pressed to Crowley’s lips.

“A few more, then I maybe I can read to you? Or you can watch your shows while I read by myself.” This newly found peace after such a stressful afternoon was tentative, and Aziraphale was worried about breaking it by being overbearing again.

Crowley, however, just hummed in agreement and took the cracker. Between dainty nibbles he asked, “Can we finish this episode, then maybe you can read something? This is the one with the durian and it’s hilarious. Unless you want to do something else, that’s fine.”

Would they spend the next however long Crowley was going to be pregnant walking on eggshells? What about after the baby came? “No, no, that sounds good to me love. As I said, all you have to do is ask and I’ll give you anything.”

“‘Kay,” Crowley answered, holding his hand out for another cracker, which Aziraphale immediately provided. They’d have to go out to the shops and stock up on some more at this rate. Maybe he could find a bakery nearby that made some fresh that Crowley might like better than the dry store-bought ones. “Can you get rid of the apples? They uh, they’re making me feel sick.”

In a blink the apples and the cheese (just to be safe) were gone and only the crackers remained. Crowley leaned up and placed a messy kiss on Aziraphale’s jawline in thanks, then turned back to his show. Aziraphale gave him a little squeeze around the shoulders, then settled in with the book he kept on the side table for moments like these. Things were comfortable again, and they’d talked a little. More progress could be made tomorrow, or the next day. After all, there wasn’t really any rush.

#fanfic #fbafs #good omens #gomens #aziraphale #crowley #aziraphale/crowley #crowziraphale #mpreg #tw mpreg

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muses-darling · 5 years

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A Seduction of the Darkside - A Star Wars AU - CH.5 Falling & Rising

Lifting his head the Emperor spoke suddenly, “Do you feel it? Your Jedi has found our guest. They must not be allowed to escape. Kill them if you must do not fail me Lord Ignis, or it will be you who takes their place.”

Ignis glared at the ground not raising his head, “It will be done.” Ignis stood up. “I have never failed.” He looked to to two of the Inquisitors laying on the ground. Impressive little shit. Ignis searched out through the force finding them and smiling. “Come out, come out little Jedi, I’m not done playing with you yet.” He started in the direction. “Or your snakey little friend.”

________________________________________________________________

“I thought you said that you’ve been here before?” KIt threw a panel of metal over the hole that they had cut into the side of the trash compactor. Tentacles of the dianoga trying to lash at them through the gaps.

“Well sometimes things change in a millennium. I think the bigger question is what are you doing here?” Crowley asked slicing the tentacles away from them.

“I was captured, You?”

Crowley sighed. “Same trying to save you.”

“Master Aziraphale was asking about lunch with you. Did you ever make that?”

“Do we really have the time for this conversation?” Crowley asked shaking his head as he spoke. “But yes and together we saw what happened to Alderaan and I came to rescue you.”

“Well in that case you’re doing great. You found me, now we just need to get off this bloody planet.” Kit snarked.

“Oi!” Crowley snapped. “Keep up that tone I might just leave you to be Lord Ignis’ toy.”

Kit made a face at him as they raced along the corridors. “I think we should be quiet I sense more ahead of us.”

“Agreed.” Crowley said before placing a hand on Kit’s chest stopping him. “This door.” He pointed. “It was this one not the last one, one door off.”

“We were almost Dianoga food!” Kit whisper shouted.

Crowley shrugged then tried a few codes, “Ugh I swear I need to stop being the one to install panels or be allowed to work on any electronics I swear, they just always get so dodgy!” He used the force to pull off the panel his fingers going to the wires. His body jerked as he touched a wire. “Yeow! That was exciting!” He stuck out a tongue yellow eyes moving behind dark glasses. The door slid open revealing a side door into the Hanger bay.

Kit tapped Crowley’s shoulder, “Crowely we have company.”

There standing in a row were Sith troops guns aimed at the two Jedi.

“Yeah well I can see that,” Crowley pulled out his lightsaber, “Only question is are you going to help me do something about it?” The blade that extended out was of a pure white like his “Angel’s” hair.

Kit turned on the two lightsabers but froze as Ignis came stepping forward. Steps behind him told him reinforcements were arriving.

Crowley hissed. “Ignis, buddy you remember me? I mean how could you ever forget?”

“About how you left? Or was it how you left? How’s Aziraphale?” Igins asked. “About to be a Widower soon?”

Crowley glared at him, “Kit you take the-”

Kit was already slicing the ventilation behind them obscuring the vision of the reinforcements as he turned and ran at Ignis.

Ignis let him run to him almost at him then sidestepped letting Kit rush passed him before looking back to Crowley with an eyeroll. “Kit I’d like to avoid killing you most of all.”

Kit skidded to a stop realizing the troopers had moved back forming a ring around the three of them.

“But if you leave me no choice I will.” Ignis ignited his blades.

“Oh you can try but even I know you aren’t much of a match for he and I put together.” Crowley told Ignis.

Ignis smiled and spoke calmly. “Oh we will see.”

The three clashed, a whirl wind of blades, flashes of Red, green and white lighting up the armor of the soldiers standing around them. Arcing, slicing, leaping, and thrusting. It was clear that all three were well versed in their forms as they moved along. Kit’s blades caught Ignis’ left blade causing it to fall from Ignis’ hand. The blade extinguished, Kit kicked it away slicing it in half.

“That was not very nice, after all we shared,” Ignis smiled. “Also not very smart of you.” Ignis reached out with the force.

Kit felt his breathing lessened then stopped, Kit reached up with a hand pushing at Ignis to no avail as his vision became spotted.

“I told you I’d like to avoid killing you most of all.” Ignis gritted out.

Crowley brought down a heavy blow on Ignis’ right breaking his concentration.

Ignis turned as Kit dropped to his knees. “Do you mind?” He asked before slicing at Crowley who dodged.

Kit felt the world going black around him and heard the footsteps of approaching troopers.

Ignis looked to Kit making sure the Jedi was breathing.

Crowley looked at Kit then at Ignis, “You wanted to kill me remember?” He held out his arms. “Then go for it?”

Ignis wasted no time stabbing him through the abdomen. “Good bye traitor.”

Crowley smiled. “Yes I think that is a very good sentiment.” He reached up with the force and sent Kit’s unconscious form flying onto a ship. Then closed his eyes and disappeared.

Ignis watched Crowley fade something wasn’t right before he turned and there boarding a ship and waving in the captain seat was Crowley.

“See you sucker!” Crowley pressed a button and the ships systems told the front guns to shoot at Hades who caught the bolts in front of himself the force becoming visible.

Crowley sent the ship backwards crashing through the bay flames nearly engulfing the ship. “Well that was a rush, and in time for tea with Aziraphale.” He smiled as they entered hyperspace.

________________________________________________________________

Senses rung as Ignis stood up pulling off the fire covered outer robe and letting it drop. Sith Troopers pointed their guns at Ignis, who could easily have taken them all out and another squadron. He smiled in the direction of Kit’s departure. “See you pretty boy.” A terrible grin came to his face as they forced him into the cuffs. “Tighter, please.” This earned a butting of the back of the head from a trooper’s gun. “Oooh, harder.” He grinned then headbutted the one in front of him.

Dragged before the Emperor, Ignis grinned up at him. “Aww if you were really serious about not letting them escape you wouldn’t have me here.”

The Emperor sat clearly unamused. “Your short time with that Jedi has done little in your favor.”

“Oh on the contrary, it gave me insight.” Ignis watched the Emperor stand nearing him.

“Insight?” The Emperor neared him raising his hands as the energy of force lightning crackled around him.

“Oh yes,” Ignis watched him unfazed by the display of the Emperor’s might.

“And what might that be?” The Emperor asked sending a forceful wave through Ignis sending him back.

Ignis landed hard his body jerking but his smile still there. “I don’t know if I should tell you.”

“Do tell me,” The Emperor said standing over him lightning crackling over his fingers before lashing at Ignis.

“That you are weak,” Ignis slid his leg swiping at the Emperor’s knocking the older man over. Ignis rolled forward on top driving both his fists down on the Emperor’s face. A terrible cracking sound as the cuffs fell away. Tossing the key away he summoned his lightsaber turning it on, “Your reign has ended.”

________________________________________________________________

Upon occasion the Jedi Master Aziraphale could be called upon to leave the temple, this was one of those occasions. In all the fighting going on books and other sources of data were liable for destruction. Moving along the Jedi knight moved softly through the crowds of people the sands shifting under foot as he turned nearly bumping into someone, “Goodness me! Sorry.”

The grunt from the creature causing the bangs of his hair to fluff.

Pursing his lips Aziraphale moved away from the creature continuing onward till he reached the Cantina. Sitting down at the table he spoke, “Honestly the places you have me meet you at Crowley.”

“Are less conspicuous,” Crowley said. “Kit’s recovering with the ship while we refuel. Did you get what you were after?”

“Why yes!” The Jedi Master perked up reaching into his bag and pulling out a paper book. “Agnaaz Siruf’s Art of War. In remarkable condition I might add and in paper. Do you even realize how impossibly rare that is? They just gave it away, can you believe that just giving this away?”

“You used the force didn’t you?”

“I would never,” Aziraphale said pouting. “In fact I am shocked, shocked you would even imply such a thing!” He added.

Crowley looked to him. “And how well is that working out for you?” Crowley asked noticing the shift in the crowd at the bar.

“Quite well thank y-”

Crowley placed a hand over Aziraphale’s mouth pulling up the other’s hood then his own.

“You STOLE MY BOOK!” A rather angry looking Sullustan came through the bar guards behind him.

“I did no such thing,” Aziraphale said. “You threw it away!”

“You stole it!” The Sullustan glared at him.

Crowley sighed downed his drink before grabbing Aziraphale and the book. “Come on Angel! We’re leaving.”

“But Crowley!” Aziraphale said looking up at him.

“No but’s,” Crowley urged Aziraphale out the door. “We need to go.” Crowley broke into a run.

Aziraphale followed after as the guards of the city began pursuit.

Using the force to bring a signal tower down behind them as they boarded the ship. “Well that’s a cantina we can never go back to again, not that it was worth going back to.”

Aziraphale nodded as he sat down then he moved to stand as his face was over come with shock. “OH THE BOOK! I FORGOT TO GRAB THE-”

Crowley held it up with one hand before the other Jedi. “There you are, don’t ever say I don’t do anything for you.”

Azirphale felt his heart swell with gladness as he took the book gingerly, “Oh thank y-WATCH OUT FOR THOSE PIT CREWS!”

“They know the risks of their livelihood!” Crowley smiled bringing the ship out of the port and into the atmosphere entering Hyperspace set for Coruscant.

“Well you should be more careful they might have families.”

“They are droids,” Crowley looked to Aziraphale, “They have no one.”

Aziraphale sighed then looked down at the book, “Thank you again that was very nice of you.”

Crowley made a face and stood up pulling out a bottle of Nabooian Vintage. “What do you say we celebrate and you tell me just how you got that book from that Sullustan? What do you say Angel?”

“I think that would be a wonderful way to spend our time dear,” Aziraphale summoned two glasses for them to use with the force.

________________________________________________________________

The Throneroom burned various bodies scattered as Hades and the Emperor fought blood, burns, and lacerations.

The Emperor was surprisingly agile for his age and had apparently been keeping his power dormant. Flashes of lightsaber on lightsaber, crackles of the Force energizing into lightning, maddened laughter tainted with the darkside filled the air. The wise stood on the sidelines and waited for the outcome.

Ignis threw a blast of lightning at the Emperor who blocked with his own. It seemed that no matter what he did the Emperor found a way to match him. Ignis dropped to his knees.

Emperor Moloch neared him and imposing figure even this battered and bruised. “Like many others before you that have tried and failed, you underestimated me. And for the last time, Ignis. You will always kneel, it is who you are, what you are, a servant, of me, and the Darkside.” He neared Ignis smiling down at him. “You will fall, just like your precious Persephone did.”

That woke something up in him as Force lightning crackled and fizzled around Darth Ignis.

“You can’t even gain power from her memory? No wonder you are weak,” The Emperor shot him with lighting.

Ignis absorbed it until the air around him began crackling, “NEVER MENTION HER NAME AGAIN!” Lightning forcefully shot out of him and into the Emperor frying the older man till nothing but ash remained as Ignis stood breathing heavily. No one would ever know how close he had gotten to being defeated, right up until the end there. He turned upon the rows of Sith Lords now kneeling to him proclaiming him Emperor.

#Ch.5 A Seduction of the Darkside #SeaCoastCity SWAU #SW:ASD

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not-a-space-alien · 7 years

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To Ineffability and Beyond!

Surely you all knew this must be coming eventually??? Obligatory “ineffable husbands in space!!!!” fic

Big thanks to @lunasong365 for always being an incredibly helpful beta!!

Title: To Ineffability and Beyond

Pairing/Characters: Aziraphale/Crowley

Rating: Explicit [nsfw]

Word count: 22,900

Warnings: Smut, body horror, bestiality??

Summary: Far into the future, Aziraphale and Crowley get a new assignment: to accompany humanity into the deepest reaches of a distant galaxy.

On LJ

On AO3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

You would be surprised at humans’ ability to make any topic politically controversial.

Well, you might not, since you’re a human yourself. Or presumably you’re a human, since aliens don’t exist. But we’ll get to that later.

The point is, conservative factions on Earth managed to raise objections to the idea of interstellar travel at every step. First there was talk about how atheists wanted to use space travel to further their secular agenda. Then there were objections that aliens, if they existed, would be damned to Hell and it wasn’t worth finding them. Alternatively, some kind souls argued it was their duty to proselytize the aliens, if there were any. Those factions argued into stalemate. Then some on earth said that it would be dangerous and immoral to send humans into the depths of space for a variety of reasons, none of which could be articulated properly, of course, because they were ineffable. Comparisons with the tower of Babel abounded—humans had no business trying to reach the sky, and the deep space program was a work of human hubris like nothing before it. These arguments were countered by religious liberals who argued that they had a right or even a duty to explore all of God’s creation so it could be properly admired.

Aziraphale eyed the developments with nervousness. He’d received no orders from Up There about the topic, so he kept his head in the sand as much as possible. When he could not help getting involved, he generally tried to persuade humans to keep their feet on the ground. Not because he was taking the side of the religious protesters in the debate, but because he did not like the thought of Heaven sending him on a journey a million light-years away. He could see it off in the distance coming towards him, like a train on an inevitable track.

Exploring the galaxy. Where no man (etc.) had gone before. Giant leap for mankind, and all that. The talk about the bird on the spaceship travelling for eternity to the end of the universe came back to him. He didn’t like it at all. Space seemed uncomfortable and dismal and he probably wouldn’t be able to bring his books.

Well, that issue was resolved when new laws put into place restricted the use of paper. He holed himself up for a week in the throes of depression after it happened, because he knew his collection would be seized as contraband. They would give him digital copies, of course, but it wasn’t the same. He thought bitterly of the Library of Alexandria and how they had stolen the manuscripts of everyone coming in. It didn’t seem fair now that he was on the other side of things. The computer bank he received as compensation just didn’t have the same effect as being surrounded by books. But it did make him feel better that he could take his collection with him rather easily if he should have to move.

It seemed like an increasingly likely possibility when finally, after centuries of development, interstellar space travel became a reality.

They tested with a probe, of course. Humans always use a probe first for everything. But the government said that the test was in preparation for a manned mission to colonize a distant planet.

Humans watched the probe, did their calculations, and turned their telescopes to the stars to find a suitable candidate planet. Aziraphale drank more heavily than usual during this time, waiting, watching.

The probe was successful. An enormous deep-space vessel was commissioned. Aziraphale waited for the orders he just knew were coming. Then finally:

Your new mission is to relocate with the humans who will board the Aphelion vessel and continue your angelic duties in their new destination.

At this point in history, Crowley and Aziraphale had been living together for several hundred years, so Crowley saw the instructions as soon as the angel got them. He shook Aziraphale by the shoulders.

“We get to be space explorers!”

“Yes,” said Aziraphale dismally.

“Where no man has gone before,” said Crowley, tripping in his excitement.

“Yes, of course, dear.”

“Hell is going to send me too, of course.”

“I’m sure they will.”

“We should start packing.”

“It’s going to take decades to build the vessel, my dear.”

Over the next few years, Crowley’s consumption of science-fiction media skyrocketed. He got out his telescope every night and looked at the sky from the porch of their little cottage to track the progress of the construction of the vessel. The thing was so enormous that it had to be constructed in orbit as there would be no way for it to escape Earth’s gravity. It was visible to the naked eye in the sky as it began to take shape.

Humans had a pretty decent mastery over living and working in space by that point. They’d had a colony on Mars for a while; Crowley had gone up to see what it was all about, but he’d returned a few years later complaining that it had been incredibly boring since they weren’t terraforming Mars and were just living in a big bubble mining things. But he remarked on how efficient it was. Humans truly were fluent in the mechanics of working in space.

So the construction of the Aphelion vessel was rapid, efficient, and enthusiastic. And yet Crowley began to mutter to himself when he saw how it was coming along.

“What’s the matter, dear?” Aziraphale said, coming up behind him one evening with a mug of cocoa for each of them.

Crowley took his cup sourly. “I don’t like it.”

“What? The ship?”

“Yeah.”

“And why not?”

“It’s…” He struggled to put his feelings into words. “It’s….not cool!”

“Not cool? It’s an interstellar space ship! What could possibly make it un-cool?”

“Just look at it!”

Aziraphale turned, gazing up at the sky and sipping his cocoa. The vessel was faintly visible in orbit, mostly built, although parts of it still had a skeletal frame and nothing more. “What about it?”

“It looks like a bloody Hula-Hoop! Or a wagon wheel!”

“Crowley, the ship is circular so it can spin and generate artificial gravity with centrifugal force. What did you think it was going to look like?”

Crowley had been thinking of the thirty-fifth James Bond movie, which had taken place in space and had not been scientifically accurate. It wouldn’t do to admit that, of course, so he sipped his cocoa bitterly without answering.

His enthusiasm returned when their applications for becoming colonists arrived in the electronic mail. He opened them the second he laid eyes on them. The two of them snuggled together on the couch to fill them out.

The questions were pretty basic, although the two of them had a hard time answering them. Date and place of birth were difficult to decide on, and neither of them had ever been to the physician and didn’t know their blood type.

“Angel,” said Crowley. “Look at item 137.”

Aziraphale scrolled to the end of his application and saw that 137 was a simple statement in bold:

THE INTENTION OF THE APHELION MISSION IS A PERMANENT SETTLEMENT ON PLANET KEPLER-442B. THE APHELION VOYAGER IS EQUIPPED FOR A RETURN JOURNEY TO EARTH IN THE EVENT OF MISSION FAILURE, BUT THE LIKELIHOOD OF A RETURN JOURNEY TO EARTH IS VERY SMALL. BY SIGNING HERE, YOU ACKNOWLEDGE THAT YOU ARE AWARE OF AND ACCEPT THIS LIKELIHOOD.

“What’s the matter?”

“If we get on board, we’re probably not going to come back to Earth. They don’t have any plans to come back.”

Aziraphale set the screen with his application down on the table. “Well, I had thought that was a given. They’re going out there to colonize. And it’s very far away.”

Crowley was looking at his application with an expression of sorrow.

“Had you not thought about that?’

He tapped a finger on the side of his screen. “It’s not worth staying here anymore since they stopped making cars,” he said, signing the line.

It was said with a forced joking tone. Aziraphale took his hand. “Crowley, it’s not the same as Armageddon. It’ll still be here. It’ll just be a bit further away.”

“Yeah,” said Crowley. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Aziraphale thought he was quashing down his feelings because it had already been decided that Aziraphale was going, and one of them staying and the other going was unthinkable. And maybe, just maybe the thought of being on a space ship and going off into the unknown where strange and exciting things awaited was enough to make up for it.

They were both called in for the second round of screening. They were given a physical examination, an ethics test, an aptitude test, a personality test. Crowley chatted excitedly about the questions, which were supposed to be confidential, as soon as they stepped out of the testing center.

Their results came back within a month: Crowley had been accepted for the third round of screening, while Aziraphale was given a letter of polite declination. Aziraphale glared at Crowley when the demon turned red and shook with suppressed laughter, and then the angel set about changing his corporation and applying again under a different name.

The second attempt was also rejected. Crowley fell into a giggling heap on the couch. Aziraphale huffed indignantly and asked Crowley to pull some strings in the computer system to let him in, the same way he had designed the sigil Odegra into the M25 all those centuries ago when humans still used highways.

“Oh, all right,” he said. “Anything for you, angel.”

Aziraphale was awoken by the sound of bare feet on the wood floor rapidly pattering towards him, and then a weight ramming into him.

“Oof!” Aziraphale wheezed, opening his eyes to see that Crowley had jumped onto the bed and landed directly on the angel’s ribs.

“Wake up, angel!” Crowley said, bouncing on the mattress excitedly. “Wake up! Wake up! Wake up! Today’s the day! It’s today!”

“Yes, all right, all right,” said Aziraphale, untangling himself from the sheets. “Give me a moment.”

There was already a cup of tea waiting for him on the table. Crowley was busily moving things around in the kitchen.

“Crowley, what are you doing? The landlord is going to be coming later today to take care of the house.”

Crowley shook his hands out. “I don’t know. I’m just so excited.”

“Relax, dear. Just enjoy the morning, because things will be very different soon.”

They ate a leisurely breakfast, although Crowley’s leg was still vibrating under the table. Crowley grabbed the suitcases, and Aziraphale wheeled the cart that had his digital collection of books behind him.

“See, you can take your whole collection with you!” said Crowley. “Humans know what they’re doing.”

They stopped by the park to feed the ducks one last time, emptying a bag of birdseed onto the ground and watching them squabble over it. Aziraphale had to convince Crowley not to try and sneak a mallard onto the Aphelion.

They arrived at the airport and went straight to the gates reserved for interplanetary travel. Crowley had cheated to get them first class seats, so they got to sip champagne while they waited to board.

“So where are you two headed?” said a woman who sat down next to them, a kind soul who apparently had never gotten the memo that small talk with strangers was taboo.

“The Aphelion,” Crowley answered proudly.

“No way!” said the woman. “Lucky! I applied to go, but they turned me down.”

“Not that lucky,” said the man waiting on the other side of them. “They get to go into deep space and live on some barren rock and never come back. Probably go mad with cabin fever and kill each other, the lot of them. I’ll pass.”

Crowley glared at the man, but he was wearing his sunglasses so the intended effect was lost.

They were finally called on board. Interplanetary ships looked a lot like airplanes, except they pointed nose-up at the sky and you had to climb a ladder to get to your seat. Crowley and Aziraphale allowed their luggage to be wheeled away and strapped themselves in, suspended in their seats looking up.

“Aziraphale, have you ever been on an interplanetary trip?” said Crowley as the seats around them filled in.

“Afraid not,” said Aziraphale. “Prefer to keep my feet on the ground, I suppose.”

“Halfway through the flight, the whole cabin is at zero-G, and while you’re not technically supposed to unstrap yourself and move around, the stewards will usually let you if it looks like you know what you’re doing.”

“Charming.”

“You’re not going to give it a shot?”

“No.”

A man in a flight attendant’s outfit came through and made sure everyone had strapped themselves in, as though they were on an amusement park ride.

“Attention in the cabin,” said the voice of the pilot through the intercom. “Welcome aboard flight T654. Our destination today is Earth’s moon with a layover in the upper ionosphere. We have some special passengers on board today headed to the Aphelion.”

Crowley enthusiastically waved his hands above his head. Aziraphale grabbed his arms and pulled them down.

“This is a reminder that the pull of gravity decreases the further we get from earth and then increases closer to the moon. Docking at the Aphelion will bring us up to approximately 1.1G’s, so if you’re remaining on the shuttle please stay in your seat for the duration of that connection.”

“How are we going to dock with the Aphelion?” said Aziraphale. “I thought it was spinning around at a zillion revolutions per hour?”

“That’s what generates the artificial gravity,” said Crowley from beside him, in an impeccable and nasally imitation of Aziraphale’s voice. The angel glared at him.

“Now, if you please, pay attention to the health and safety demonstration at the front of the shuttle, and we can take off.”

The in-flight video demonstrated where the emergency exits were (“Where on Earth would we be exiting to?” Aziraphale commented, to which Crowley replied, “No.”), the location of the emergency oxygen masks (“That wouldn’t be helpful if we were in the burning cold of space!” Aziraphale had said worriedly, and Crowley had shushed him.), and a plethora of other safety devices upon which Aziraphale offered his fussy commentary.

Another flight attendant came by to check and make sure there weren’t any items loose in the cabin that would start floating around without gravity. Aziraphale thought they were rather making a big deal out of this, and people went to the moon all the time and why was this a whole big long process? They should just take off already.

The crew buckled themselves in, and the countdown finally started over the intercom.

10…9…8…

“Do they have to be so dramatic about it?” Aziraphale said.

7…6…5…

“Because I’m sure they don’t need to actually count down.”

4…3…

“It’s for the ambiance. Hey, angel.”

2…

Aziraphale looked over. Crowley was giving him a lecherous look.

1…

“I can’t wait to suck you off in zero-G.”

The woman behind Crowley had clearly heard what he had said and had a shocked look on her face. Aziraphale was thrown back flush against his seat before he could respond. The cabin rattled and shuddered. Aziraphale was glad there weren’t any windows, because he was sure they were going faster than he had ever gone before in his life.

We have liftoff.

They began to slow. The motion died down.

“Angel, relax,” said the voice beside him.

Aziraphale looked down and realized he was white-knuckling his armrest. He peeled his hand off and ran it through his hair. “That wasn’t so bad.”

Crowley suppressed a snort.

A ticker at the front of the cabin showed their altitude, skyrocketing before their eyes.

“Humans are amazing, aren’t they?” said Crowley. “Remember when they thought the moon was only a couple dozen miles away?”

“Yeah,” said Aziraphale.

They sat there in silence for a while, just holding hands, thinking of the planet zooming away beneath them.

“It seems a little odd to me that they’re only sending one angel and one demon with the Aphelion crew,” said Aziraphale. “The population is slated to be, what, several thousand isn’t it?”

“You know they don’t pay attention to those things, angel.”

“Mm, maybe they just wanted to get rid of us once and for all.”

“Ha! I wouldn’t put it past them.”

“Hmm, who should we send to be Hell’s representative on the barren ball of rock a trillion miles away? I know—that chap Crowley! He messed up the apocalypse, but surely he’s perfect for this job.”

Crowley sat in uncomfortable silence.

“Crowley? Did I say something wrong? I’m sorry, I was only joking.”

“They didn’t send me,” Crowley said.

“What?”

“They told me to keep my feet on the ground because they were sending another demon.”

Aziraphale grimaced. “Oh.”

Crowley flashed him a nervous smile. “Fuck ‘em, I say. What are they gonna do about it?”

“My dear, they might very well do something if we aren’t careful.”

“Whatever,” said Crowley, letting go of his hand to indignantly cross his arms. “And it’s not going to be a ‘barren ball of rock,’ Aziraphale. There’s going to be aliens on there.”

“…You can’t be serious.”

“Of course I’m serious! Aliens have to be real somewhere out there in the galaxy! It wouldn’t surprise me if they were on the very planet we’re going to!”

“Did you read the pre-voyage materials they sent us?”

Crowley didn’t answer.

“You didn’t read them.”

“It looked like homework. I don’t do homework.”

“Crowley, they already did a scan of the surface of Kepler-442b and it showed no signs of life at all. If there were a bustling alien civilization on it, I hardly think we’d be going to colonize it.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me with the way Europeans behaved in the 16th century,” Crowley muttered. “I’m telling you, there’s going to be aliens on there.”

“We have to terraform it first. There’s nothing alive on there. It’s empty.”

“Aliens. Mark my words.”

“They would have seen them.”

“They’re underground.”

Aziraphale patted his hand. “Whatever makes you feel better, dear.”

They began to feel lighter and lighter as the pull of gravity lessened. At one point Crowley looked over to see Aziraphale’s mass of curly hair had drifted upwards and ringed his head like a halo.

The intercom dinged. “We are now approaching the Aphelion for docking. If you’re getting off, please stay in your seats until the ‘Gravity’ sign at the front of the cabin turns green. Reminder that if you’re continuing on to the moon, stay in your seat.”

Aziraphale’s stomach dropped as gravity re-engaged, gradually forcing him back into his seat.

“Aw,” said Crowley. “We didn’t get to float around at all.”

One of the flight attendants came by and escorted them from their seats. They were ushered to the same door at the back of the ship from which they had entered. When it whooshed open, they were greeted by a positively utilitarian bare metal room, the front of which led to a single extremely thick, locked porthole.

“This is the place, then?” said Aziraphale. His shoes tapped on the metal as he went in.

Two stewards came out with their baggage, plopped it down, then scurried back inside.

“Have a nice journey, boys,” said one as they disappeared back into the shuttle.

The door vacuumed shut and sealed. Crowley and Aziraphale picked up their luggage. The door on the other side of the room did not open. The shuttle remained where it was.

“Ah…” said Aziraphale. “Are we supposed to…do something?”

“You’re the one who read the pre-voyage materials,” said Crowley.

A red light began to flash on the door in front of them, accompanied by an alarm that sounded like a foghorn. The porthole at the far end popped open and swung outwards with a groan. The two of them scuttled across the threshold, dragging and wheeling baggage behind them. But they found themselves in a second room identical to the first, except this one had a small, squat window in the door at the far end of the room.

The door slammed shut behind them of its own accord.

“Uh….” said Crowley.

Aziraphale strode forwards and looked into the small window. “I can’t really see anything.”

Crowley huffed and sat down on one of his suitcases. He zipped the other one open and withdrew a potted plant. It was in one of those fancy electronic pots that held all the soil in and regulated water levels.

“Ah good, he survived the baggage compartment.”

“Crowley!” said Aziraphale. “They were very clear that you’re not supposed to bring your own plants or animals on board!”

“Aw, what are they going to do about it?” said Crowley. “Nick’s already here.”

“You’ve named it.”

“He was the best of the best of the best. This spider plant is ninety-five years old and has risen to every challenge I’ve thrown at him. I’ve decided to be nice to him now. He’s proven himself. We need something to liven up our cabin! I’m sure it will be dreadful without at least one plant.”

The same red light and foghorn sounded in the empty room, and the door with the window whooshed outwards.

“Come in, come in!” said a woman’s voice.

They dragged their things out the door into a metal hallway. It was an infinite hallway, connecting rows and rows and rows of metal doors as far as the eye could see, until the unnoticeable curve became visible in the distance and the hallway dipped up and out of sight behind the ceiling.

Crowley blinked at it, fighting vertigo.

A perky woman in a blue vest smiled at them. ��“Welcome aboard the Aphelion, space explorers!”

As soon as her eyes fell on the plant in Crowley’s hands, she gasped and lunged at him.

“What are you doing?” Crowley yelled as she tried to wrestle it off him.

“Flora not from the approved greenhouse is strictly prohibited onboard the Aphelion!”

“Get off him!”

“I need to confiscate this, sir.”

“He never did anything to you!”

She finally managed to wrench the plant out of his hands, and she immediately threw it back through the door through which they had come and punched a button on the wall. An alarm beeped and the door slammed shut.

“Hey!” Crowley pressed against the door and peeked out the window. The plant was on its side on the floor.

Another alarm sounded, and through the window Crowley could see the door at the far end of the antechamber open, revealing the black void of space dotted with stars and milky swirls of distant galaxies. The plant flew out in the blink of an eye.

“Nick!” said Crowley. “No! You murderer!”

He turned away from the window. The woman was breathing heavily, and she smoothed back her hair and put her smile back on. “Sir, we have a seed bank on board that contains upwards of 75% of the estimated plant species on Earth. If you’d like a potted plant, you can get one from the greenhouse free of charge.”

“He didn’t deserve that.”

“Sir, if outside flora brings disease on board it would be an ecological disaster. We’ve under strict quarantine.”

Crowley crossed his arms and glared at her sourly.

“Now, may I see your boarding passes, please?”

Aziraphale took his screen out of his pocket, pulled it open, and navigated the glassy surface to the information card they had given him. Crowley was still muttering to himself as he took his out and followed suit.

“Oh, you two are in the F wing. Excellent choice,” she said. “I’m partial to the third circle myself. Come on, I’ll show you to your room.”

The wheels of Aziraphale’s cart clattered on the metal grate beneath them as they moved forwards, down that logic-defying hallway. “Did you say the third circle?” said Crowley.

Aziraphale elbowed him and whispered, “I told you to read the pre-voyage materials.”

They filed into an elevator, which ended up going more sideways than up or down. Even given the fact that there were signs and arrows and maps spattering every inch of the walls, Aziraphale and Crowley immediately got lost.

The woman in the vest gestured to a door. “Here you are, suite 889b! If you need anything, my name is Maria and my contact information will be on the vidscreen in your room. Have a nice day!”

She moved off, disappearing into the wall a distance off. They both blinked, staring down the narrow hallway.

“This place gives me the creeps,” said Crowley. “It’s like a big metal labyrinth.”

“The pre-voyage materials had a blueprint, dear,” said Aziraphale, swiping his screen in the slot on the door. “It wasn’t supposed to be a surprise to anyone.”

The door swung open. Their room was small, with one decent-sized bed in the center and a pair of dressers and not much else. All the furniture was bolted to the floor, and the walls were bare except for a vidscreen that said:

YOUR VOYAGE ASSISTANT (VA) IS MARIA

CONTACT NUMBER 60.547.8

Crowley muttered under his breath and approached the vidscreen, tapping it and swiping, crossing out Maria’s name and writing plant murderer.

Aziraphale collapsed his screen into its smallest shape and stuck it into the wall to charge. “All right, Crowley, now that we’re here, I insist that you read the pre-voyage materials. They had some very important information that you’ve simply missed. You’re going to mess something up and get us in trouble because you won’t follow directions.”

Crowley gave him a dirty look and pulled his own screen out, sliding it open and tapping on it. “All right, then, Mr. Follow-the-Rules.”

Aziraphale set about putting his clothes into his dresser. Crowley threw himself on the bed, the materials from the Aphelion management open on his screen. “Ugh, Aziraphale this thing is like a thousand screens long! It’ll take forever to get through it all.”

“It only took me a few hours, and I was taking notes.”

“Whatever, nerd.” Crowley rolled over, holding the screen above his face, the light from the ceiling shining through the screen’s translucent, plasticky surface. The first screen had a picture of the great metal donut herself, accompanied by the words WELCOME ABOARD, SPACE EXPLORERS

He flipped. The second screen went on and on about the mission statement, to expand the human consciousness into the furthest reaches of the galaxy in the noblest way, etc. He scrolled past that to the details about the star that served as their destination, Kepler-442 (K type star, nestled in the constellation Lyra), and its planet that would be their new home, Kepler-442b (exoplanet). The days on Kepler-442b were three weeks long, and with an axial tilt that small, say goodbye to seasons.

“It says it’s going to take us 500 years to get there going at twice the speed of light!” said Crowley. “They expect us to stay on here for 500 years? Hey, angel, what’s this bit about cryosleep?”

Aziraphale’s face appeared above him, warped by the screen. “Crowley, if you would actually read it, you’d see that we’re going to live on the Aphelion for about a month as it leaves the solar system, and then once we’re stable at light speed everyone on board is going to go into cryosleep until we reach our destination. It’s the only way humans could actually live long enough to get to Kepler-442.”

Crowley collapsed his screen. “Hold on, angel. You’re telling me we’re going to sleep for 500 years?”

“Yes.”

“I get to sleep—”

“Yes, dear.”

“—for 500 years. And not only is this expected—”

“Yes, Crowley.”

“—but it’s mandatory?”

Aziraphale stared at him for an additional second and then said, “Yes, Crowley.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” said Crowley, sliding his screen back open. “This is fantastic!”

“Because I thought you had read it,” Aziraphale said testily. He dragged Crowley’s suitcase over and began to unpack the demon’s things when it became obvious it wouldn’t get done otherwise.

Crowley noted that the pods for cryosleep would come out of the floor of their cabin, but he failed to find where they would be appearing from.

The Aphelion will be your home for the next 500 years, although you’ll only perceive it to be a few months. The living spaces are arranged in three circles. The outermost and largest circle, the first circle, holds wings A, B, and C and is subject to 1.1G’s. The second circle is slightly smaller and is maintained at exactly the same gravitational force as on Earth, and holds wings D and E. Guests in wing F in the third and innermost circle can expect to live in 0.9G for their stay. Each wing has its own greenhouse and set of amenities. Non-authorized personnel are not allowed to move further than the third circle; the force of gravity decreases with the radius of the ship, and the ship’s engines and robotics are maintained at temperatures below zero. Please note that the Aphelion is a perpetual motion machine; barring the event of catastrophic failure, the vessel always remains in motion and the outer circles should never experience zero-G. Please rest assured that the AI programs that will control the ship during cryosleep are programmed to put the safety of the human passengers as its paramount goal.

Since most of the processes on the Aphelion are automated, most of its citizens do not need to work full 6-hours days as on Earth; however, depending on your profession, you may be summoned to lend your expertise at various points throughout the journey.

Crowley had been growing bored, but he snapped back to reality as he read the part about being called to help with the ship. “Angel.”

“Hm?” said Aziraphale, not looking up from folding laundry.

“It says they might call us to help out depending on what our skillsets are.”

“Well, yes. I told them I was a shopkeeper, so I had assumed I won’t be doing much until we establish settlements on the planet.”

Crowley bit his lip.

“Crowley?”

“So…do you remember how you asked me to pull some strings to get you in?”

“Yes. Crowley…what did you do?”

“They wouldn’t take you because of the lame personnel profile you submitted! I had to make some changes to it to get you on board!”

“Crowley, what did you tell them my profession was?”

“I…may have…told them that you were a robotics engineer.”

“Crowley!” said Aziraphale. “I don’t know anything about robotics! What am I going to do if they call me to help with something?”

“Just lie!” said Crowley. “A few miracles, they’ll never know the difference!”

“I can’t lie! And I’m going to mess something up! Bugger, Crowley! What did you tell them your profession was?”

“Botanist.”

“Of course! The nice and easy one! If you get called in all you need to do is prance around in the garden for a while and—”

The vidscreen on the wall suddenly flashed to life, vibrating and showing the microphone icon that indicated a call. They both jumped with surprise, clutching each other.

They stared at the screen. The microphone vibrated.

“Ah…Hello?” said Crowley.

CROWLEY, said the voice from the screen.

“Bloody hell!” said Crowley, jumping again.

CROWLEY, WE NOTICED YOU DID NOT FOLLOW OUR INSTRUCTIONS TO STAY ON EARTH.

Crowley looked at the vidscreen fearfully.

COME BACK NOW, CROWLEY. WE HAVE PLANS FOR YOU DOWN HERE.

Crowley’s hands tightened on Aziraphale’s arm.

CROWLEY?

“No,” he said.

WHAT?

“No, I’m not coming back down. There, I said it!”

The microphone icon vibrated ominously.

“I’m a space explorer, on a mission to expand the human consciousness into the furthest reaches of the galaxy in the noblest way, etc., and I’m staying up here! What are you going to do about it? Are you going to come up and drag me back down?”

More vibrating, no speaking. A smile began to dawn on Crowley’s face.

“You can’t, can you?”

WHAT?

“You can’t get up here.”

DON’T BE RIDICULOUS. OF COURSE WE CAN.

“You can’t! Hah! You don’t know how!”

CROWLEY, WE HAVE DONE INFERNAL WORK ON MARS BEFORE.

“That was me. I’m the only demon who’s ever left Earth. Nobody else knows how to go about it, especially on such short notice.”

The icon vibrated in angry silence, and Crowley knew he had struck on the truth. He fell onto the bed laughing.

“I’m going to be sent a zillion miles away where you can’t reach me because nobody down there could figure out how to get on the shuttle fast enough.”

IT’S NOT THAT FUNNY, CROWLEY.

“Amazing. This is amazing. I know you can’t see me right now, but I’m giving you the finger.”

YOU DARE TALK TO US LIKE THIS?

“It’s two fingers now. All the way up.”

YOU’LL RECALL WE WERE SENDING ANOTHER AGENT, THOUGH.

Crowley’s smile faded.

WE HAVE PULLED A CHAOS DEMONESS STRAIGHT FROM THE PITS IN THE NINTH CIRCLE. HER POWER IS SO TERRIFYING THAT SHE HAS BEEN LOCKED AWAY FOR MILLENIA. WE HAVE RELEASED HER ESPECIALLY FOR THIS MISSION.

Crowley began to shake with peals of laughter.

CROWLEY??? HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND??

“You sent a demoness who hasn’t set foot on Earth in thousands of years. And who wouldn’t know jack shite about talking to humans, let alone operating technology. To be your sole representative. On a space ship?”

The icon vibrated. IN RETROSPECT, IT DOES NOT SEEM TO HAVE BEEN THE IDEAL CHOICE.

“Bloody hell!”

BUT WE HAVE REPORTS THAT SHE HAS ALREADY MANAGED TO BOOK A TICKET.

“Oh, has she? How long did that take her?”

THAT’S NOT IMPORTANT. SHE’S BETTER THAN YOU IN EVERY WAY, CROWLEY. REMEMBER THAT. GOODBYE.

The screen clicked off.

“Oof,” Crowley said, rolling over and throwing a hand over his face. “Hey, angel, how much time did you say we had before we go into cryosleep?”

“A month from when all the passengers have boarded.”

Crowley heaved a sigh. “I suppose we need to resolve this situation with the other demon onboard before we go under, then.”

“Why?”

“Put it this way. We’ll be asleep, and we wouldn’t know if someone was, say, ejecting our pods out the airlock.”

“Point taken.” Aziraphale turned back to the laundry. “We can get started on that after you finish reading the materials.”

#good omens #my writing #my good omens fanfic #to ineffability and beyond

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