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rcreveal · 8 days

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An Adjustment

Aziraphale meets Crowley at a crossroads in medieval England because of the Arrangement, but finds that there's something he really wants to adjust. This takes place after the Arrangement started in 1020 and before the Globe Theater. It’s prompted by my writer's group: @theriverspath’s question about how long Aziraphale has been preening Crowley’s wings from a little exchange the two share in my “Spring Cleaning” fanfic, @moons weakness for wing grooming fics and the prompts: “How we began again, with an illicit bargain.” and “The Arrangement”. Also inspired by @skyler’s description of Crowley as “grabable”.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

On a windswept moor a solitary figure trudged up the steep slope using trails of broken slate that slipped under his feet. The late winter sunshine would be brief and the storm crowding the horizon promised to be prolonged. Finally rounding the last bend to see the top of the isolated hill and the person waiting for him, Aziraphale spake thusly to himself, “Blow this for a lark! I pray that I win the toss this time!” before reaching the demon at the crossroads.

Crowley was hopping from foot to foot, grinning madly. When he saw the angel, he threw his arms wide to take in the desolate hill, the threatening storm, and the little village huddled near the local castle down in the valley. “Lookit! This place is perfect! I even found a crossroads and everything! Both the temptation and the …other thing are due to stumble through here at the height of the storm!” Clapping his hands together, he propositions, “So what do you say to a little wager?” the demon was still jigging around, apparently eager to beat Aziraphale at a game of chance…again. It was really getting on the angel's nerves.

“Fine, but I'd like to choose the game of chance,” the angel grumped a little.

“S’fair. You lost the last time.”

“ Three times.”

“Three times, three times, right. Really? So whadda ya chose?”

“Coin toss with my coin this time.” Aziraphale said a bit acerbically, pulling out an old Roman coin.

“Show me both sides, jus’ like I did for you,” Crowley insisted, still gamboling in place.

Aziraphale huffed in exasperation but made a show of demonstrating both sides of the coin, “And look, nothing up my sleeves!” He pushed up his sleeves baring his forearms. Heavens it was brisk out today!

“Call it.” Aziraphale said as the coin sparkled into the air and he caught it and slapped it down onto his bare arm.

“Tails, cuz I'd never ask an angel to choose to be an arse,” Crowley said with an ironic smile, still gyrating about.

“Crowley! That's uncalled for! Serves you right, you fiend, you lost this time! I'll see you at the tavern when you're done for the details. Good day to you!” Aziraphale spun on his heel and started to stomp down to the valley hearing Crowley’s frustrated groan.

Such a stream of swears came from Crowley that the air literally sparked and flared with sulfur and brimstone. Wheeling back on the demon and waggling a finger at him, Aziraphale admonished, “You lost! Swearing won't get you out of it, and will you stand still while I'm talking to you! ” Aziraphale shouted, beside himself at Crowley's continued capering.

“Can't. Stand still. Itches, too much!” Crowley whined, his face strained, moving his neck irritably.

“What is wrong with you!?” Aziraphale demanded, “You're usually more composed than this!” Usually, the demon was smoothly confident, no hair or garment out of place. Now he looked, well he looked haggard, frankly. “You look awful!”

Crowley’s face scrunched and he mumbled, “Got a thing with a feather,”

Cocking a hand to his ear, Aziraphale asks, “Come again?”

Louder this time, Crowley intones, “I have a thing with a feather !

“Well fix it, so you can meet your part of the Arrangement!”

“Can't reach,” explains Crowley.

Aziraphale huffs impatiently, “Then miracle it. Surely you can heal yourself!”

“Yah, but not this one!” complains Crowley.

“That's the absolute last straw!” Aziraphale cries, “Out with them!”

“Wot!?”

“Out with your wings! I want to see this ‘feather!’” Aziraphale stands with hands on hips, mumbling to himself, “If there even is a feather.”

“I heard that!” Crowley stomped around and threw his coat onto the ground, “Don't believe me?” his black wings strain out of his back, “Lookit that!” he stretched his right wing towards the angel. And indeed, in the most awkward place to reach is a patch of feathers that are either broken or twisted.

“Crowley! You're bleeding!” Aziraphale has closed the distance and uncovered a broken feather, bleeding slowly but steadily and some twisted feathers and irritated pinfeathers? Maybe blood feathers? but he only catches a glimpse before Crowley mantles and hisses at him, pulling the wing out of reach.

“I didn't say you could touch it!” the demon snarls.

Aziraphale takes a deep breath through his nose, blue eyes flashing towards the incapacitated demon scratching his wings against each other and the incipient weather. His desire to win this contest warring with his instincts to help. He lets out a long breath and suddenly regains his composure. He can do both!

“Fiend! I’ll thwart your wiles!” he cries.

“What are you nattering on about? We already settled this! I’ll stay out here in the weather and you’ll be cozy indoors somewhere. Fair toss and all that.”

“You may tempt his Lordship with a “falcon”, but I can’t condone leaving it hurt like that! I insist that you bring that creature to the mews so I can mend those feathers!” Aziraphale is pointing at Crowley and winking.

“Wot?”

Dropping out of the pantomime, “I’m his Lordship’s falconer, Crowley!” Aziraphale said a little exasperatedly, “I said bring the “falcon” with the injured feathers to me and I’ll fix them! So the “falcon” can do its duty. Come now!”

“You want to fix my…?”

“Just get the, the “creature” to the mews. Immediately! Or I’ll have to take steps!” Aziraphale blustered.

Crowley looked at the angel open mouthed, then started to hop up and down with his fists balled at the sides.

“Oh, right, you got me, angel,” he says stiltedly, “I’ll bring you the “falcon” and you’ll fix its feathers?” ‘ How?’ mouthed Crowley.

‘Trust me!’ mouthed Aziraphale.

“You go first, demon! I’ve got my eyes on you!” Aziraphale ushered the demon ahead of him. “Pull in your wings!” he whispered.

“But it itches less with them out,” Crowley grumbles. Craning over his shoulder as he walks by, he offersd. “Look, you don’t have to do this. I'll just stand here with them out till the storm comes. Everyone will think it’s just one of those wretched swan cloaks. Really, I’ve got it covered,” he’s reaching back to scratch.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale remonstrates, slapping his hand.

Crowley pulls in his wings and goes back to his itchy dance down the moor to the castle mews with the angel shooing him onwards.

Sitting uncomfortably in the back of the dimly lit mews, having sidled past all manner of hooded raptors, Crowley asks, “You’re really the falconer here?”

Bustling about with pots of glue, dowels, some wicked looking pliers and knives, Aziraphale assures, “Oh yes! I’ve been doing falconer work off and on for centuries!” arranging his tools, “There. Now let out “the falcon’s” wings again. I’ll fix them up, then you go do what you were going to do.”

Crowley unfurls his wings.

Aziraphale reaches for the damaged patch, lifting the feathers gently and sucks at his teeth.

“That hurts!” Crowley snarls. All Crowley’s feathers puff out and he snatches the wing away. Aziraphale spends a fruitless few minutes trying to catch Crowley’s wing, with many a “Will you settle down!?” and “Not if you’re going to hurt!” and “If you’d hold still it’ll hurt less!” and “I am holding still!”

Finally at the end of his patience, Aziraphale raises a hand over the demon as though he really were a tetchy raptor and intones, “ SETTLE DOWN!”

“Did you just try to work a miracle? On m…” Crowley starts, incredulously.

“No! It was nothing like that!” Aziraphale yelps, thinking, ‘It was exactly like that, why hadn’t it worked? Oh right.’

“Even if an angel ever did try to work a miracle on a demon, I expect they would need the demon’s permission. Look, can you do anything to calm “the falcon” down?” Aziraphale asks.

“Got any alcohol? It’s partial to a good red wine,“ Crowley retorts cheekily.

Aziraphale rummaged under his bed and came up with a leathern flask that smelled of apples. “No, but the locals ferment apple cider around here,” the angel tops off a smallish horn cup, and offers it to the demon.

Crowley takes the horn cup with a sneer, “Quaint. You think you’re going to get me drunk on apple juice?” and empties the cup in one gulp. When his eyes water and he coughs, a small fireball erupts over the candles for a moment. Eyeing the liquor through streaming eyes, Crowley wheezes, “What do the locals call this stuff?”

“Scumble. Word to the wise, don’t ever pour it in metal.”

“Why?” asks Crowley.

“Scumble dissolves metal,” explains the angel matter of factly.

“I think I’ll take another draft,” Crowley says with a grin.

Some time later, Crowley was draped bonelessly over the back of a chair, to say he was in his cups was an understatement, but it certainly made him pliant. About the feather work.

Just now Aziraphale had rendered him incoherent with an old joke about a Mesopotamian pastry, a popular Greek play, and a Roman urn.

Shoulders shaking with laughter, Crowley finally dissolved into hiccups,“Ya know wha’ ‘m sayin’, angel? Right?”

“Oh, certainly!” Aziraphale found that he'd been having quite a convivial time. They had been sharing jokes and anecdotes that spanned thousands of years and dozens of civilizations. Burying the thought that he was giving ‘aide and succor’ to the ‘enemy’ was easier since that enemy was acting like any other hurt bird he'd cared for. Crowley had initially mantled, hissed, snapped, rattled his pinions, growled, snarled, and sworn whenever the angel had gotten anywhere near the bad feather. Which was still dripping blood onto the floor. But finally alcohol and Aziraphale's gentle ministrations were having the desired effect. The ‘falcon’ had settled enough that the skin around the bad feather just shivered when the angel touched it. Aziraphale pondered while his hands busied themselves with the damaged feathers: So Crowley couldn't heal that feather himself for some reason, but he could ‘build himself up’ and he hadn't done. That troubled Aziraphale, as he'd seen such injuries take the last of some bird's strength.

A cold little thought suggested itself, ‘What if Crowley…left and didn't come back?’

Lose contact with the only being in heaven or on earth who would reliably laugh at his jokes? That…wasn't acceptable. Anyhow, there were meant to be both of them, endlessly opposite, ah, …opposed to each other.

Aziraphale noted that Crowley had drunk enough that the demon kept forgetting how he'd started a sentence, so on to the hard bit.

Aziraphale opened with, “Now, I’ve cleared out the pinfeathers and imped…,”

“Imped?” Crowley giggled.

“ Splinted the bent feathers. But the broken blood feather will have to come out. You’re…”the falcon” is just going to keep bleeding!” argued Aziraphale.

“Ngghh,” finger raised, “Stops event.. ually. When it grows in,” disagreed Crowley.

“And how long does that take, pray?”

“Praying doesn, doesn’t help, angel. Doncha know? Tha’ featherrrr takes as long as it takesss.”

“Well it needs to come out! Do I have your permission?”

“Wha?” Crowley looked over at the angel blearily.

“Do I have your permission to fix this blood feather?” Aziraphale persisted.

“Yah, do wha’ever you like. ‘S not gonna make it worse,” Crowley laughed, flapping his hand vaguely at his wing.

Aziraphale went very still. That was far more leeway than he thought Crowley intended, but…he grabbed the opportunity (and the demon), anyway.

“Let’s get you comfortable on the bed!” he said airily, grasping the languid demon under his arms. “You might get a little light-headed when I deal with this.” Aziraphale quickly shifted Crowley towards his bed, the demon was anything but steady with the sudden move, chuckling “‘’m flyin’” as the angel steered him around in a controlled fall onto the bed, landing him safely belly down and ebony wings all a clatter.

Not giving Crowley a chance to take back his permission, Aziraphale commanded, “Now, SETTLE DOWN .” Crowley immediately dropped off to sleep, not fighting the suggestion at all this time. That was unsettling in and of itself, Aziraphale had the demon entirely at his mercy.

Aziraphale picked up the pliers that would frighten the life out of anyone seeing them coming. Thankfully, Crowley wouldn’t see them. Aziraphale had been considering what he had to do for most of the time he was working on the other feathers. This broken one was well and truly bolloxed. It looked like it had been injured then grew in worse every time it molted. No wonder the demon was so tetchy today. Who knew how long the thing had been bleeding. Even as tough as Crowley was, that had to be wearing on him.

Right then.

Aziraphale pulled the broken, bleeding feather.

And released a torrent.

Quickly, Aziraphale wove a healing miracle. He’d done it before on falcons, eagles, hawks, whose injured feathers threatened to end their flying. It wasn’t enough to just pull the feather. He had to heal the follicle, or it would never be right again.

The bleeding stopped, but Aziraphale still frowned in concentration. Something was keeping him from completing the healing. It was better. Much, much better. But, he’d have to see to it again. Maybe every time it molted.

So be it.

Crowley snored drunkenly on Aziraphale’s bed, his ebony wings softly furled, every feather gleaming and in place. The promised storm was just starting to pelt the castle.

Aziraphale pulled out two Roman coins from his pocket. One had heads and tails and the other had double heads. Aziraphale palmed each coin in turn and flashed them into the air, displaying first heads, then tails, over and over with the regularity of a pendulum. Flipping a final coin, he gazed down at the sleeping demon.

Waking Crowley and sending him out into the winter storm to uphold his end of the Arrangement would just undo all of the angel’s diligent work! Plus the unguarded look on Crowley’s sleeping face reminded Aziraphale of…Before.

Grabbing an oiled leather cape and a stout walking stick, Aziraphale left Crowley in the warm and headed out into the night.

“Ngghh, my head!” groaned Crowley. His tongue felt furred, his stomach was in revolt, his skin felt too big, his wings…

His wings did not itch or hurt.

‘Nggk,’ he thought between the pounding, ‘what the heaven happened last night?’ He tried to rack his untrustworthy memory: his wings had really acted up, he lost the toss, jokes, alcohol, a fuckery about fixing “the falcon”... The angel got strangely formal and asked permission for…

Crowley needed not to be epically hung over for this, so he expelled the poisons from whatever he’d gotten well and truly sloshed on, and looked at his right wing. Someone had expertly imped the bent feathers, the pinfeather sheaths were out and the broken, bleeding, festering blood feather...

Was gone.

Instead of the usual stinking hole, the follicle was in better shape than it’d been since before it’d been injured so long ago, so very, very long ago. And that was impossible, because that feather was never going to be right again. Only an angel could heal it and no angel would…

“Angel?” Crowley said softly, identifying gentle breathing nearby, looked down to see Aziraphale curled up asleep on a straw mattress on the floor.

Blue eyes opened softly and looked up at Crowley sweetly, until a smile that took on gleeful delight crossed the angel’s face. “You owe me double!”

“Wot!?” Crowley said in surprise.

“I did my blessing and the other thing at the crossroads in the storm last night. And I performed that little service for the “falcon”, so,” ticking off his fingers, “You owe double!” Aziraphale crowed and sat up.

“Is that really chivalrous when you obviously got me completely crocked?” Crowley rolled up on his side, “What the heaven did I drink?”

“Scumble, it’s made from apples.” Crowley finds the empty leather flask and sniffs it dubiously. “Stop changing the subject, Crowley! You. Owe. Me!” Aziraphale sang out happily.

“All right, all right!” Crowley said, amused to think ‘the angel has a bastard streak, who knew?’ “Obviously, for the temptation, but this…” he waves at his wing, “this is…” Crowley looks at the angel at a loss for words.

“Just a little adjustment to the Arrangement,” Aziraphale said airily, “That I hope you remember should I ever meet you in similar circumstances.”

Crowley nodded, “Sure, that’s…Alright, then…but,” he stumbled over his words.

“And if “the falcon” needs any further help, you’re welcome to bring him back here,” Aziraphale said more warmly. “Actually, I insist!”

“Insist, do you?” Crowley asked, face going from unguarded to a wry smile. Aziraphale’s heart melted a little at the brief flash of hopefulness in Crowley’s orange eyes. “Indeed, I do insist upon it!” the angel said firmly, a bit of the bastard in his twinkling smile.

Could they make a subtle adjustment to the Arrangement?

Aziraphale was certainly willing to wager it.

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p4nishers · 9 months

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"I THOUGHT WE CARVED IT OUT FOR OURSELVES "SO DID I"

#get it their colors are switched cause crowley is deep down a just a bit of a good person and aziraphale is just enough of a bastard to be #worth knowing haha im so smart #i will never and i mean NEVER get over this and we haven't even seen the full scene #I NEED IT NOW I CANT WAIT 9 MORE FUCKING DAYS BRO #good omens #good omens s2 #good omens season 2 #azicrow #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands

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thatdelusionalnerd · 3 months

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the ending of s1 is so 😊💕😁🥰

and then you've got season 2 😔😭😟💀

#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #neil gaiman #see this hit me when i rewatched the “if you weren't deep down just a bit of a bastard to be worth knowing” scene #neil gaiman i want something less heartbreaking for season 3 #please #i am actually begging you #cor speaks

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gayboy-vampyre · 1 year

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I've decided Saturdays are for posting my cringefail art, so here's the first one for today: a piece I did back in October after that season two poster dropped

Click 4 quality

#Been drawing these bastards since 2019 and they still don't look right #if I don't get season two soon I think I'm going to start chewing up my shoes #good omens #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #good omens fanart #my art #fritz's stuff #definitely going to draw them again soon since it's been a few months and my art style has developed a bit more

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boopboops22 · 8 months

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Just finshed Radio Omens and like. Crowley was trying so hard to flirt with Aziraphale the whole time. That was the only thing he did

#I dont quite forgive them for the lack of Azi calling him nice at the manor #or Crowley being sad when Azi gets distracted by the book #and while I understand why their climatic moment fell a bit flat in audio format it was still lame #and im specifically referring to the “spark of goodness” “enough of a bastard to be worth liking”#though I cant believe they cut the Nightingale Sang In Barkley Square moment #Crowley trying So hard to sound hot infront of Aziraphale the entire time does make up for it a bit tho #good omens #radio omens #rambles

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bone-yarddz · 4 months

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“Unforgivable, that’s what I am!”

“I forgive you.”

Okay, I was thinking this over (for like, the hundredth time since watching the show) and my mind kinda just clicked with something. Maybe Aziraphale feels that forgiving Crowley is a form of… something, like love, affection. Maybe he’s saying “it’s okay, I love you anyway and forgive you”. Let me explain. Aziraphale wants Crowley to come to Heaven, be an Angel again. He forgives him twice, once in Season 1 and the second time in Season 2. He seemingly forgets/ignores the fact Crowley is a demon at times. It’s like he thinks Crowley deserves forgiveness, thinks he doesn’t deserve being a demon. I think that’s why he is so quick to hand out his forgiveness , kindness, patience and even love. It’s because he believes Crowley is, deep down, kind and good. He thinks that in Crowley, there is an Angel that is still pure and longing to come back out, he thinks that Angel can’t because they’re buried beneath a demon. Let’s say, for the sake of sorting my brain out, Aziraphale separates the parts of Crowley into categories: Crawly, who is just the demon, The Angel, who is good and worth saving and Crowley The balance, the one he either feel in love with or thinks is proof the Angel he feel in love with is still in there. Crowley is the forgivable one, Crawly was the damnable one and The Angel is and was the lovable one. Perhaps. But who knows, maybe Aziraphale is just a bastard or bad at saying “Do it again”. (And now I will be drawing this idea, bless my artist brain, and crying over it)

#aziraphale good omens #innefable husbands #good omens #good omens fandom #crowley good omens #good omens 2 #good omens season two #good omens spoilers #gayer than a tree full of monkeys on nitrous oxide #god Aziraphale is driving me up a wall I can’t figure out how his dumb little Angel brain works #stupid angel man thing #WHY WAS HE SMILING IN THE ELEVATOR WHAT ARE YOU PLANNING YOU DEVIOUS BASTARD #bastard aziraphale in s3 #he’s a little bit of a bastard #aziraphale and crowley #aziraphale headcanons #angel crowley #im going insane

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im-outofideas · 7 months

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an old new thing

fandom: good omens

w/c: 1977

summary: word vomit domestic life feat. crowley and aziraphale.

a/n: got dang this is all over the place!!! this is plotless fluff and very much self indulgent. self-soothing after season 2. also i cannot write kiss scenes for my life so it turnt stupid LOL. please do not pay it any attention and enjoy the rest 🫶

----

"What on earth are you doing?"

"Convincing you."

“Well.. I’m not convinced.”

“You will be.”

Crowley stiffened. Over the last six millennia, Aziraphale had used distance as a hand over Crowley. If he'd suggested a scheme slightly too outrageous, or gone out and done it himself before relaying it to Aziraphale, he wouldn't see the angel for a long time. It sure took a lot of patience, being his..frenemy.

To be fair, Aziraphale was much more tolerant of mistakes than the angels he’d been surrounded by for all of eternity. Much more forgiving than the demons Crowley reported to. It only took hunting the angel down (not a particularly difficult task; he was conveniently predictable) and a little dance before they were back on their Arrangement and regularly scheduled meetings. Still, the weeks of silence frustrated Crowley beyond anything. He's glad Aziraphale decided to do away with the silent treatment since the notpocalypse.

He's taken up a new way to get Crowley to admit when he's wrong. Or to get him to admit Aziraphale is right. Rather than disappear, Aziraphale will cling. He’ll bother and bother and bother. He’ll talk and pout and follow Crowley endlessly until he’s had enough. Crowley definitely prefers this to the former method. He’d rather be annoyed endlessly than ignored for a little while.

Perhaps it's even why it takes so much longer for him to fold.

With that said, it's just so new. After 6,000 years of the same old routine, the affectionate turn in their relationship is taking some getting used to. It’s a bit much to handle in Crowley’s opinion. It's probably why Aziraphale does it so often, the bastard. He knows it's effective.

---

Two nights ago, Aziraphale had been reading on the armchair when the lights inexplicably went out. He picked up the lit patchouli candle next to him when a sound came from the darkness.

Aziraphale has cleverly stayed away from horror content most of his existence. Unfortunately, this made him very unaware of most cliches used in films. He was an excellent target.

“Crowley?” He tucked the book underneath his arm, using both hands to grip the candle closer to him. Another noise came from the left.

Aziraphale went to investigate. Crowley was meant to be in Glasgow for a boogie-concert. Both decided it would be better if he had gone unaccompanied. The last time Aziraphale attended a concert with the demon, a spill to his tartan coat had him miracle every narcotic on site into the chalky substance they put in candied hearts. There was a lot of confusion among the mosh pit, mainly about the lack of confusion everyone felt.

“Is that you, mister Mouse? I've told you, it's not safe for you here. There are snakes in this household.” Aziraphale called out, but there was no response. All noises stopped.

He went to the front door, intending to check the electrical box outside. He swung the door open. Aziraphale felt a presence somewhere out in the night. Dread filled his guts.

He chuckled to himself for being silly. The list of things which could harm an angel were short. Other angels took up a majority of it. Fear was one of the hundreds of human attributes he's indulged in during his time on earth.

He took a breath of courage, but choked on it when a two-headed, red goblin roared out from the side of the doorframe. Aziraphale screamed, dropping the candle and the book. The goblin quickly saved the book from hitting the floor, but the candle shattered. The ancient and quite ridiculously flammable carpet lit up instantly.

Aziraphale clutched his chest and shouted several incohesive ‘oh dear goodnesses’ while Crowley blew the fire out in a long, icy breath.

“Hm, well. Wasn’t expecting that.”

Aziraphale pushed past him. “Oh no, oh no..” he softly repeated until he was too far away to hear. The lights inside the bookshop flickered on. Crowley could now see the charred stain over the antique rug. He hissed.

The “oh no’s” were returning, growing steadily in volume, until it was shouted right near Crowley’s ear. Aziraphale appeared in the doorway.

“Look what you've done!” He whined.

Crowley stared at the spot in disbelief. “How did it go up so fast?”

“You startled me!” He continued indignantly.

“It's October, angel. Really, what do you use to top off these carpets? Petrol?”

“You burnt my rug!”

“...would explain the Bentley's recent behavior.* Actually, you dropped the candle. Seems terribly irresponsible to keep candles in an old bookshop.”

“You turned out the lights. I needed to see!”

“Right, well. Not a big deal.” Crowley pushed the armchair directly over the stain. “Good as new.”

“Not good as new, it’s still all ruined.” Aziraphale enunciated dramatically. “I expect you to fix it.”

“You're being ridiculous. You can't expect me to miracle it out tonight. The two heads thing took a lot out of me. You can’t even see it!” Crowley sat on the armchair, covering the gap - in which the stain was still very much visible - with his legs.

“I don’t expect you to miracle it out,” Aziraphale said. “I want it restored. Naturally.”

Crowley groaned. “Alright, sure. Fine."

“And a new candle.”

“Whatever you want.” he said spitefully.

“And company to Derren Brown’s Illusionist performance.”

“Never!”

---

Aziraphale is currently hugging Crowley from behind him, entrapping his arms in a one-sided embrace.

“No, I will not. Get off!” Crowley growled, pulling out his arms. Aziraphale remained hugging around his waist. Crowley huffed. “If a person makes a mistake, and then fixes said mistake, the mistake no longer exists and nobody owes anyone anything. I agreed to fix the rug. I’m not going to a silly magic show.”

“I’d hardly call it a mistake. The scare was certainly deliberate.” Aziraphale grumbled. “He who has done wrong unto another must make it up to thee who he wronged.” He made up.

“What, like… building interest? That's not how it works. Do all angels forgive like a bank?”

“Afraid so.” He hugged a little tighter. “Even though I've returned, I still haven't made up for… leaving.” The example seemed to spill out before he could ponder its appropriateness. “Didn’t do much good in the end, did it? So much was damaged. World nearly ended again. No, haven't even begun to make up for it.”

It's a tricky thing. Part of the healing process for Aziraphale had been to bring it up every so often, as casually as possible. Even during moments of domesticity. Perhaps one day they'd grow immune to the pain if exposed to it enough times. That was Aziraphale's logic, though sometimes he regretted ruining a nice moment with a sour memory. Crowley saw it more like a confession. A way for Aziraphale to relieve the guilt he felt. Guilt which hit him harder anytime he realized he was starting to feel happy rather than guilty. What a bitch, that guilt.

Angel’s felt nothing but guilt for over 6 millennia. Only for ever doing what he thought was right.

Personally, Crowley wished to never speak of it again. He didn't find it healing to reopen wounds. But he was working on his tendency to run from his fears, so he tolerated it.

“Course you have. I’ve forgiven you for that.” He softened.

“Yes, well..” I haven’t, he didn’t say.

Crowley squeezed the arm around his middle and took in a breath. “You can hold me however long you want, I’m still not going to the show with you.” He reminded Aziraphale despite not wanting to go. Perhaps he was running a bit. The subject is still awfully uncomfortable.

“It won’t kill you, my dear. It’ll only last six hours.”

“Six hours?? I’ll go mad. Add onto the week of you attempting all the tricks you've seen him do. Forcing me to watch. Forcing me to participate. No. You cannot make me- haha! You can’t make me go!” Aziraphale began to tickle around his grip.

Crowley tried to walk away, but Aziraphale followed surprisingly lightly on his back. Like a pair of wings. It would’ve been less frustrating if he had held Crowley solid.

“Let go!” He laughed.

“Oh, please come with me darling. We’ll have an incredible time. He won’t be performing here again for another year!” Aziraphale persuaded, pretending it was still his words doing all the bargaining.

“I- ehehe, piss off!!” Crowley stumbled over to the couch, legs beginning to give out under him. With a war cry, he suplexed himself Aziraphale-first onto the couch. His attempt to dislodge the angel failed. Infact, it only invigorated him. The hold around him tightened and the once gentle tickling turned deadly. Like a snake. Ironic.

There was an initial few seconds of kicking and cackling, before the laughter became true and bright. Still every bit as loud, but margins sweeter.

“GET OFF!” He shrieked.

“I think you’ll find you're the one on top of me. I’m quite frightfully stuck. I can’t seem to get out.” Aziraphale replied calmly. “Do you mind letting me up?”

Crowley struggled to sit up or wiggle off with Aziraphale still holding onto him. He dropped his head back and laughed in frustration. “Please!”

“Oh, alright.” Aziraphale chuckled. He stopped and let go. Crowley immediately rolled off the couch.

They both lay staring at the ceiling for a moment. Crowley turned his head to look under the armchair, directly at the charred stain. The cleaners wouldn't arrive for another day.

"Never do that again. Ever."

"I'll do it again the second your back is turned."

The threat made Crowley blush. There was another silence.

“Why do you want me to go with you anyway? I'll only spoil it with my complaining.”

“Nonsense. I enjoy most things more with your company. You could never spoil it.” Aziraphale stood up to straighten himself out. He stepped over Crowley, who frowned. Bastard didn’t even lend a hand. “But I suppose you’re right. I wouldn't want you to have a bad evening on my behalf.”

Aziraphale left the room without Crowley for the first time in two days.

“Hang on!” Crowley called from the floor. “What, that’s it? All that.. blasted effort into persuading me and you’re just letting it go?”

“Well, I tried everything I could think of. I figure you must dread to go if you're willing to endure all that tickling.” Crowley could hear him fiddling with cups. “I’ve stooped to torture. How you've corrupted me.” Aziraphale said low and fond.

“You only did it for a moment.” Crowley said as Aziraphale returned with a bottle of wine and two glasses. He furrowed an eyebrow.

“What’s this? You'll miss the performance if we start drinking now.”

“Oh yes, well… what's a year to beings like us anyway?” Aziraphale said gently. “Are you saying I could have convinced you if I kept going?”

“What? Ngk-no, no. I mean, maybe. F'ya did it long enough. This.. bloody corporeal thing. Right ticklish. But don't you dare!” he pointed at Aziraphale. He dropped his hand to his chest. “But the pestering. The hugging, I mean. I almost conceded there. Didn't, though. But that's only ‘cause I didn’t want it to stop so soon. Shut up!” he exclaimed upon seeing Aziraphale smile widely.

"Ugh." By that explanation, the same logic would have applied to the tickling.

“You could have just said.” Aziraphale smiled, bending slightly over Crowley’s head. He appeared upside down. Crowley looked away too late - a little smile was tugging the corner of his own mouth. “So, then, tell me. How can I convince you to join me?”

“Get me off this damn floor, for one.”

Aziraphale pulled Crowley up as though he were a feather, holding his hands. He scooted closer, straightening out the fabric over his chest. “And then?”

“Hm," he looked off. "I suppose you could give me a kiss. Might do the trick.” He said with a smirk and an old confidence in his words. He was grateful how well this communication thing was finally working out.

Both were flush when they parted. To Crowley’s dismay, a bit of steam trickled out of his ears quite cartoonishly.

“Look at the time!” he said, flustered again. “Ahm, better get a move on if we want good seats. Might as well be comfortable if we’re going to be there for six hours.” He hurried out the room to the front door. Aziraphale smiled and straightened with giddiness. How good the demon was to him.

“Bring the wine!” the demon shouted.

*referencing the headcanon that the Bentley and bookshop are in love with each other. 😼

#good omens #fluff #crowley is ticklish #he is at heart just a little bit of a good person #aziraphale is just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing

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lydiablackblade · 11 days

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YES, this angel definitely has a Better Idea what to do

The eye contact...

The suggestive tounge...

*hsahdglksaggdsgsdg*

SEND ME HELP

#I can't get over how hungry is Aziraphale #he wants cake #demon cake #horniest of angels #suggestive eating #bit of a bastard #how Crowley did not combust #good omens #aziraphale

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froggierboy · 8 months

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"aziraphale tried to just leave a hitchhiking woman" aziraphale tried to shoot a child

#rye.txt #good omens #i just feel we've all lost perspective a bit. aziraphale is a Stinky Bastard Man (affectionate)

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llumimoon · 1 year

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👀 (any dndads au you feel like sharing, lovebird! hope you're having a wonderful day btw 💜💜💜)

Hehehehe HIII HAPPI <3 I am having a wonderful day tysm!! :D I hope you are too <3

I'm trying to think abt if I have any aus that you don't already know about BWCEUAHAHAAH and im not sure how much you know abt the most recent one I've made

OOOH I have got this one fantasy AU I haven't touched in a while but I think would be really fun to revisit sometime! <3

The idea is that there's this ancient curse that's been unleashed on the land creating this magic rot that's slowly been devouring forests, towns, and eventually maybe even whole kingdoms! The rot can overtake animals and people, warping them into dangerous mirrors of their past self, this AU's take on doodlerization. the sauce if you will <3

Taylor is a member of the royal court of the Kingdom of Hell (son of the first prince Nick) and Link is his loyal guard and bestie who keeps him from dying in their shenanigans and escapades. They have a silly goofy, I've known you my whole life and I will die to protect you bc you're the person dearest to me also ur a dumbass who's stupid as fuck, energy going on <3 friends to dumbasses to lovers <3

Normal is a regular villager who recently happened to score an apprenticeship with the castle healer! Apparently his dad knew someone in the court and managed to pull some strings, wonder what that's all about. (spoiler alert: its pretty important and he's also secretly royalty but doesn't know it)

Scary is an amateur witch <3 She saw her mom start dating the castle wizard and was like FUCK THAT GUY AND HIS STUFFY BOOKS. BET I COULD DO THAT BUT BETTER AND COOLER AND LESS NERDY. So she's been sneaking off to practice magic with rudimentary materials and a few nicked things Terry left around their cottage.

Turns out Scary has a natural talent for certain parts of magic because she accidentally stumbles upon a prophecy outlining the world's possible end unless a certain group of people go to the ruins of a lost kingdom to stop the rot. And when she finds out who those people are she's like FUUUUUCK. bc now she's gotta find a way to sneak into the castle to somehow find these losers, one of which is apparently a PRINCE !! and then they've all gotta go out and not die on an adventure or else EVERYONE'S gonna die. and like she can't be bothered but also ig it would be kind of cool to shove it in her stepdad's face that she's more awesome than him and saved the world so. off she goes!

Hermie's the second prince who is often overshadowed by his older half brother. He happens to overhear the group talk about the prophecy around the time they're preparing to leave and tags along to prove his worth to his dads and also have people pay attention for him for once goddamn !!!!! also the healer boy is kinda cute <3

Cue super fun goofy and exciting magical fantasy quest !!! Secrets are revealed! Bonds are formed! Possible corruption? MAYHAPS! Also where even ARE the ruins of the kingdom of Oakvale no one seems to have heard of it at all! All while the rot continues to spread....

#ask #happi-tree #cal rambles #dndads #hehehehe thank you so much for indulging me <3333 #i know i took a little bit to respond sorry abt that <- i tried thinking abt aus to talk abt then i fell asleep and had to do hw #you know all my big ones already n lately ive mostly been scheming w/ nyx abt aus so im hesitant to call them my own without mentioning them #so my brain blanked i was like Uh. UH. HEVEGAJAHAHAJA #there are some little fun ideas i plan on elaborating on later i think!! havent told anyone abt em yet so hehe they're some fun bonuses #angel n demon au !! link's an angel taylor's a demon #i was thinking scary could be a fallen angel its just been normal i've been stuck on LMAO #bc i've been thinking abt how fun it is with how link and taylor have p clear angel demon imagery to me #while scary and normal feel more... in between? like yin yang type not all good not all bad #thought it could be fun to play with the idea of. Scary very recently fell as an angel due to Willy's influence #versus Normal who comes from a family of fallen angels ('corrupted' by the Doodler) but is trying to redeem himself and his family as well #with a storyline playing with the concept or morality and clearly defining good and bad with angels and demons #good omens style LMAO <3 Link and Taylor as an angel and demon DO remind me of Crowley and Aziraphale #Demon who's got a little too good of a heart to be evil and an Angel who's a little too much of a bastard to be purely good #ALSO been playing around with the idea of a fae au teheheehe #anyways rhat angel demon one really got away from me LMAO #its been a passing thought these past few days but i havent thought up like an actual plot line just alignments #so i havent mentioned it #WILL GET TO THE OTHER AU ASKS BTW EJWBAHAHAH #im jusy a VERY wordy rambler so it may take some time </3 #long post #HELP almost forgot that one #me n my walls of text <3

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