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preraphaelitepunk · 5 years

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Fictober19 Day 9: Taste Test

Prompt #9: There is a certain taste to it

Fandom: Good Omens (GO)

Characters: Aziraphale, Crowley

Rating: Teen

Warnings: None

Taste Test

Getting Aziraphale to allow a television in the back room of his shop had been interesting. The angel had taken to a few elements of the twenty-first century like a duck to another duck that the first duck really liked -- he had been terrorizing other bidders at online rare book auctions for years, and had nearly gotten the hang of ordering delivery on his elderly desktop computer. The computer, Yertle, was far too old to have any business even connecting to the internet, but since Aziraphale expected it to, it did. (Mobile phones were still a challenge, but Crowley was working on it. Progress would be increased if Aziraphale didn't sporadically pretend to have presbyopia and claim he couldn't see the words on the phone screen.)

Television, though, he resolutely resisted. It did not bring food, or new books for his hoard, or Regency snuffboxes, or anything worth while. It wasn't until Crowley thought to point out Antiques Roadshow UK, Bake Off, and Jamie Oliver that the walls began, very slightly, to crack. When he mentioned how Bluetooth headphones meant that one person (Crowley) could watch James Bond movies without disturbing anyone else (Aziraphale) with the noise, the mortar between the bricks of the wall started to flake off. When Crowley found a sleek, modern, experimental-model television that actually retracted into its base, hiding itself like something sleek and sinister and not coincidentally not blocking access to bookshelves, the walls crumbled completely.

“This is actually quite lovely, my dear,” Aziraphale mused, running a hand absently through Crowley’s hair. They’d determined early on that the ideal viewing position was the angel sitting on the battered sofa, with Crowley sprawled out and resting his head in Aziraphale’s lap. “I’m so glad you talked me into getting a televisual contraption. Oh, look: it’s another cookery show up next!”

“It’s the bloody Food Network, angel. Of course it’s going to be another food show up next. What were you expecting, Sir David Attenborough?”

“Oh, hush, foul fiend.” Aziraphale booped him gently on the nose. “Oh, it’s that sweary one. I like him.”

“Huh. Wouldn’t have thought he’d be your type.”

“Silly boy! I don’t mean I like him. Although he is not entirely unattractive, for a human.” He smiled fondly when Crowley stuck out his tongue. “I mean he reminds me a little bit of you. Very tough and sweary on the outside, but he’s actually quite kind. He just has high standards. I saw one of his shows with children, and he was so patient and supportive of them. Reminded me of you with Warlock.”

Crowley frowned at the white-clad man on the screen, evaluating. “Right now he reminds me more of me with my plants.”

Aziraphale chuckled. “Yes, he is a bit hard on the new cooks, isn’t he? Ooh, he’s going to do the blindfold thing.”

“Ngk?” Crowley had not been expecting blindfolds. This was a pre-watershed program, he’d been sure.

“It’s a blind taste test, to evaluate one’s palate. See if you can identify foods without visual cues.”

They watched in silence as the competitors tried and failed to identify basic foodstuffs. Crowley felt a twinge of sympathy, not that he’d admit it; most food tasted bland and ashen to him, and he was impressed that they’d gotten any guesses right. Aziraphale was, however, not so kind.

“Imagine not being able to tell the difference between a potato and a parsnip! What a galoot.”

“Galoot?” Crowley sat up, appalled.

“A sap. Idiot. Fool.”

“I know what a galoot is, angel. I just didn’t expect to ever hear you say that word.” Crowley sighed. “Who am I kidding? I should consider myself lucky you didn’t say ‘fopdoodle.’”

“He’s that, too.”

“It’s very easy for you to sit there and judge, you know. I bet you couldn’t do much better than that lot, if you didn’t know what you were eating and couldn’t see anything.”

Aziraphale’s eyes twinkled. “All right, you’re on. What are the stakes?”

“If I win, you have to try sleeping. Not just reading while I sleep: actually get your head down and kip.”

“Agreed. And when I win,” Aziraphale did that hideously cute thing with his eyes, glancing down and then cutting them back up at Crowley, “you will allow me to tell you how nice and wonderful and kind you are, for a full five minutes without complaining.”

“And you call me a fiend!”

A bit of rummaging around found an old tartan ascot that would serve well as a blindfold; Crowley tied it carefully, checking to make sure it wasn’t too tight and trying to ignore the angel’s happy wiggle. Best not to think on that too thoroughly; probably it was just anticipation of winning that made Aziraphale hum to himself. Crowley pulled up a random ingredient generator on his phone, and started miracling up food samples.

“Plum. Not a very ripe one.”

“Nobody said anything about ripeness, but you’re right.”

“Chicken; breast, not thigh. May I get a sip of wine, dear? Just a palate cleanse. Thank you. Tofu. Silken, I think; not water packed.”

“Tofu, yes, but it’s not anything-packed. I’m just miracling these things up.”

“Regardless: it is clearly from a UHT pack.” They worked their way through a dozen more samples. “ Ah, that cheese — gouda, I believe.”

“If you think I’m going to make a pun about gouda, angel. . . .”

“I would never think such a dreadful thing about you, my wily old serpent.”

“Thank you. But I guess you’ve proved your point. You’ve guessed them all right.”

“Oh, wonderful. But just one more, maybe? Just to make sure.” Even with the blindfold, Aziraphale had a stunningly effective pout.

“All right, then. I can’t say no to you, but I know it’s just because you like me feeding you.”

Wiggling a little, Aziraphale popped his mouth open, waiting for the next tidbit. If Crowley had been more alert, he would have been prepared. As it was, the hand that grabbed his wrist with the next morsel of food (white chocolate, with dried raspberries in) caught him totally off guard.

Aziraphale guided the food closer and nibbled, his lips brushing Crowley’s fingertips. “Mmm, white chocolate. Something else in it, though.” The tidbit had been devoured, but his hand was being drawn inexorably farther forward. “Strawberries, perhaps? No, raspberries.” A tongue flickered across Crowley’s finger, and teeth nipped playfully. “And this: so familiar, so redolent of something lovely, there’s a certain taste to it, but I can’t tell precisely what.”

“Grfl.”

“It’s absolutely scrummy, whatever it is.” And now Aziraphale gave the finger a quick suck, and Crowley’s knees threatened to give out. “Ah, I think I know now.” Aziraphale pulled off the blindfold with his free hand, and gazed up at Crowley adoringly. “It’s the taste of home, of being cherished and loved and protected. It’s the taste of my beloved, my dear heart, my darling. My Crowley.”

“Yours,” Crowley managed; the angel was peppering his hand with tiny butterfly kisses, and his thoughts were sluggish. He cleared his throat, trying to regain some composure. “So I guess you win.”

“Dearest, I won the day I fell in love with you. However,” Aziraphale added with a smirk, pulling the demon down onto his lap, “I do still intend to hold you to our bargain. And I intend to begin now.”

It was an excruciating five minutes, being complimented and praised and coddled and cuddled, but Crowley wouldn’t have traded it for anything. He might even have to arrange a similar wager again soon.

#fictober19 #good omens #good omens fanfic #my fanfic #aziraphale/crowley #aziraphale loves crowley #crowley loves aziraphale #implied sweary chef guy #fluff

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theyellowsubmarinefanremakeblog · 5 years

Text

Part 1

SONG: Eleanor Rigby

Ah look at all the lonely people Ah look at all the lonely people

Eleanor Rigby, picks up the rice In the church where a wedding has been Lives in a dream Waits at the window, wearing the face That she keeps in a jar by the door Who is it for

All the lonely people Where do they all come from? All the lonely people Where do they all belong?

Father McKenzie, writing the words Of a sermon that no one will hear No one comes near Look at him working, darning his socks In the night when there's nobody there What does he care

All the lonely people Where do they all come from? All the lonely people Where do they all belong?Ah look at all the lonely people Ah look at all the lonely people

Eleanor Rigby, died in the church And was buried along with her name Nobody came Father McKenzie, wiping the dirt From his hands as he walks from the grave No one was saved

All the lonely people Where do they all come from? All the lonely people Where do they all belong?

(After the song, we open in Penny Lane, at the top of Hope Street, a rather depressing street in Liverpool. We’ll put it where we want, and the reason we chose Liverpool is that Mr. Kite once lived there. Well, we’ve always wanted to pay him a little compliment, so the Beatles therefore are staying in Liverpool. We pan down from the sky to see them making their way downtown, chatting with each other. A banker with an umbrella passes them by.)

Paul: Why’s that banker got an umbrella?

John: Must be saving up for a rainy day.

(In the nearby River Mersey, the Rhapsody surfaces, its periscope swinging around, until it points in the direction of the Beatles.)

Coco: Hey, Cap’n! Look!

Fred: By Neptune’s nibbles! Quick now, navigate our way over to them.

(The sub follows the Fab Four, while staying in the river. Ringo perks up and looks behind him, but the Rhapsody has vanished back underwater.)

Ringo: Say, fellas, would you believe me if I said that we were being followed by a yellow submarine?

George: No, I wouldn’t believe you.

Ringo: Didn’t think you would.

(They reach the place where they’re currently staying, the Pier House Apartments.)

Ringo: I could have sworn it was a yellow submarine! But that isn’t logical now, is it? It must have been one of them “unidentified flying cupcakes”, or a figment of me imagination… But I don’t have an imagination.

Paul: You don’t even have a figment.

(As they enter, the submarine surfaces again.)

Coco: Hey, Cap’n? How exactly are we gonna do this? I mean, we can’t just go up there and cry for- (notices Fred is not there) ...Cap’n?

(Of course, Fred is already at the door.)

Fred: HELP! HELP! HELP!

Coco: (facepalming) Oh for the love of...

(She flies out after him, as he bangs on the door.)

Fred: HEEEEEELP!

Ringo: (through the mail slot) No thanks. Don’t need any.

Coco: He means us! We’re the ones that need help!

Ringo: Oh, really?

Fred: HELP! Won’t you please, please help us?

Coco: Cap’n, you’re being ridiculous. This is just embarrassing.

Ringo: Be pacific.

Fred: Ggggaakbunkahbdonkaglrigabpbr music lmrapqlifrheabffffunkahhluh blue gegahdahmaeroohthe s-s-submarine nbnhh explosion grfl BLUUEEE MEANNNIEESS!

Ringo: Is he like this often?

Coco: Only before dinner.

Ringo: What you two need is...

Fred: H for hurry,

E for Ergent,

L for love me do,

and L for p-p-PLEASE HELP!

(The door opens up into a large hallway, and Fred enters, Coco on his shoulder. As they look around, they are surprised to see Ringo driving a car towards them. Coco lets out a squawk of fear and flies up. Thankfully, Ringo stops just before running down Fred.)

Ringo: Oh, you've touched me heart, you have. Hop in and we’ll get me friends.

Fred: Oh, bless you!

Ringo: Did I sneeze?

Coco: Just drive already. I’ll tell you what you need to know. You see...

(They drive off, as Coco explains everything. Dissolve to them reaching a hall of doors.)

Fred: Just park it here.

Ringo: I’ll just park it here.

(They get out and enter one of the rooms, which is full of displays.)

Fred: Hey, what would your friends be doing here?

Ringo: Displayin’.

Fred: Displayin’ what?

Ringo: Displayin’ around. (Rimshot)

(The three pass through the Hall of Heroes.)

Fred: Can’t we take one of these?

Ringo: No. I only work with me mates.

Coco: Wait wh-

(Smash cut to John throwing magnetic letters against the refrigerator. Ringo, Fred and Coco enter the room.)

Ringo: John, listen-

John: Keep out of the firing line! Wouldn’t want to put words in your mouth.

Ringo: Look, John, we’d like a word with you.

John: Sorry! Didn’t I offer you one? (holds out some cookies shaped like various letters) Now, what is it?

Ringo: Listen to Old Fred.

Fred: Ggggaakbunkahbdonkag music lmrapqlffunkah blue gemaeroohthe s-s-submarine nbnhh explosion grfl BLUUEEE MEANNNIEESS!! ...So what d'you think?

John: I think it needs a rehearsal.

(Cut to the group back in the hallways.)

John: So, when do we leave?

Coco: Well, Ringo said there were three of you, so two more left.

John: Alright then, what day is it today?

Ringo: Sitarday.

John: Then George will be here. (opens a door)

(Inside, we and the group are treated to a bevvy of psychedelic imagery. At the center of it all, George sits meditating.)

Ringo: George, what are you doing there?

Coco: That’s only one of the things I’d like to know.

(A voice from behind startles them.)

George: What is it, Ringo?

(They turn around to see George driving up in the car.)

George: Is there a matter you’d like to take up? Or down?

Ringo: This chap here...

Fred: Ggggaakbunkahbgmusibluuemaerosubmarinenbnhhexplosion-

All three men: BLUUUUUUEEEEEEEEEEEE MEEEEAAAAAAANIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEES!!!

George: ...Ah, you’re nuts, the pair of yer. (begins to drive away)

Ringo: Hey, wait a minute, that’s my car!

George: How do you know it’s your car?

Ringo: I’d know it anywhere.

George: What’s it look like, then?

Ringo: Well, it’s red with yellow wheels.

(With a honk, George is driving a different car.)

Ringo: I mean, blue with orange wheels.

(And again, George rolls up in another car.)

Ringo: I mean-

George: It’s all in the mind.

Coco: ...You know what, let’s just find the fourth guy.

(The others get in.)

Ringo: Come on, move over! I’m driving.

George: I got here first.

John: I’ll drive, if you like.

George: No, you sit in the middle.

Ringo: No, I’m sitting in the middle.

John: You said you were driving.

Ringo: I am driving!

George: I’ll get in the back, then.

(This continues as they drive offscreen.)

Coco: LOOK OUT FOR THAT-

(Suddenly, there is a horrendous, multi-part crash from offscreen. Things hit things and fall on top of other things, knocking them into other things on the way. The last thing, whatever it is, sounds quite small and goes clingclingcling… clink. The group walk back onscreen.)

John: Come on, we’d better find Paul, hadn’t we?

(He opens a door onto real footage from the movie King Kong (not the 2005 remake), as Kong is loose in the city.)

George: Do you think we’re interrupting something?

John: I think so. (closes the door)

Coco: Are you sure you have some idea where he is?

John: Probably through this door.

(He opens it onto a face washing table... but then a FRICKIN’ STEAM TRAIN COMES BARRELING TOWARDS THEM. Luckily, John slams the door shut just in time.)

George: It’s all in the mind.

John: Let’s try one of these doors.

Coco: Oh god... (prepares herself for whatever craziness is imminent)

(John opens the door onto a cheering audience. The reason they are cheering, of course, is because of Paul, playing Mozart on the piano.)

Ringo: There he is!

George: They do look nice, don’t they?

Ringo: Yes, they do.

John: They do, though, don’t they?

Ringo: Don’t dey, dough?

George: Dough?

Coco: D’oh!

(Paul comes out, a loving fan’s bouquet in arm.)

Ringo: Don’t ask.

George: Dat’s dough.

Paul: What’s the matter, fellas? Blue Meanies?

Coco: How did- (pause) Forget it.

(Meanwhile, outside, the foreboding shape of the blue sub quietly surfaces, unnoticed by bystanders. It’s hatch opens...

Cut to back inside.)

Coco: So, that’s why we’re here. Bottom line, we need he-

(She is interrupted by a harsh knock at the front door. Ringo looks through the mail slot again, this time seeing a group of strange men clad in blue. Coco joins him, and is shocked by what she sees.)

Coco: Oh, no. They followed us!

Ringo: The Blue Meanies? They don’t look blue to me.

Coco: Any nonhuman being from the Fabuverse turns human under the Squareverse’s sun! Now let’s get going, fast!

Fred: Isn’t there another way out?

John: Sure, I’ll lead the way.

Coco: Then lead!

(Quickly, they head for the back door. Shortly after they disappear around the corner...)

Stormblueper: Three! Two! ONE!

(There is a scream, followed by the door breaking off of its hinges, one of the now-human Stormbluepers having been used as a living battering ram by his compatriots. They look around, confused.)

Stormblueper: Find them!

(They all run into the hall of doors.)

Stormblueper#1: Which way?

Stormblueper#2: Here!

(They all crowd around, weapons drawn, as he opens the door...

Suddenly, CHOO-CHOO! Cut to the protagonists, having made it outside, as we hear the Stormbluepers screaming.)

Fred: Well, lads, what do you think?

John: I think that-

Fred: Remember, there’ll be rough Seas ahead. What do you think?

Paul: Well, then, um-

Fred: Pounding, overwhelming waves! What do you think of that, eh?

George: Well, I think-

Ringo: As a matter of fact, I-

Beatles: I think-

Fred: Well?

Beatles: I’ve forgotten.

(They arrive at the Rhapsody, which instantly opens its hatch.)

Fred: Right, then! Let’s get this vessel shipshape.

Paul: I kind of like the way it is; submarine-shaped.

(They climb aboard. Cut to inside the sub.)

Paul: So this is a submarine.

George: Soft, isn’t it?

Ringo: (pops up from the bottom hatch) Not if you’re on the bottom.

Fred: All right, lads, time to stow the gab and turn to.

Paul: Groovy. How do you start this thing?

Fred: (pulling out stuff from the cupboard) Well, it starts with a Blue Meanie attack.

Coco: That’s not what he meant.

Fred: Oh.

John: Supposing that there’s no Blue Meanies in the neighborhood?

Fred: Well, then, uh... then, you start looking for a switch.

Ringo: Which switch?

Coco: Any switch, Ringo.

(Ringo looks at the controls before covering his eyes and flicking a switch. The Rhapsody submerges.)

Ringo: Perhaps this is it.

SONG: All Together Now

One two three four Can I have a little more Five six seven eight nine ten I love you

A B C D Can I bring my friend to tea E F G H I J I love you

Bom bom bom bompa bom Sail the ship Bompa bom Chop the tree bompa bom Skip the rope bompa bom Look at me

All together now All together now All together now All together now All together now All together now All together now All together now

Black white green red Can I take my friend to bed Pink brown yellow orange and blue I love you

All together now All together now All together now All together now All together now All together now All together now All together now All together now All together now All together now All together now All together now All together now All together now All together now

Bom bom bom bompa bom Sail the ship Bompa bom Chop the tree bompa bom Skip the rope bompa bom Look at me

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