#he just wants them both to be safe but aziraphale makes that very difficult. he loves him of course but its so frustrating for crowley

[boylikeanangel]

ok yknow what else. I am so glad they're acknowledging the 180. I haven't really voiced this cuz I was otherwise so excited for this season but I really was on the verge of indignation about them just deciding to make gabriel a goofy sidekick after he was literally the biggest villain of season 1. it really felt like they weren't willing to acknowledge just how much pain he's actually caused aziraphale and crowley and, to be honest, it seemed a little out of the blue that aziraphale would try to help him. but no. they're actually talking about it. it's a central point of conflict for them that crowley rightfully wants nothing to do with this because it's GABRIEL, he tried to kill aziraphale, he's still understandably terrified that heaven will try to hurt him again, and now he wants this guy nowhere near either of them, and cannot understand why aziraphale would have him in his bookship after what he's done. and as for why aziraphale wants to help him, that seems like it's actually going to be explored rather than just accepted for the sake of the plot moving forward. not only have they not forgotten just what gabriel did or tried to do last season, they're placing that lasting fear and apprehension towards him front and centre and are going to have aziraphale and crowley conflict over whether or not he deserves their help. I'm honestly so relieved because I had always been staunchly anti-gabriel and never really enjoyed the fandom's overly jovial attitude towards him, and was genuinely really skeptical when it seemed they were going to make him a sympathetic character in the new season, especially since the trailer played the comedic angle for all it was worth. but it's not just absurdity for absurdity's sake. it's actually something for our main couple to work through. the writing knows this is a difficult shift in dynamic to contend with. and they're directly employing it as an obstacle for aziraphale and crowley. it's really good and it's put a lot of my worries about the overall tone and messaging of this season to rest

#not even getting into how this is literally the same conflict from season 1 but with a slightly different power dynamic #like aziraphale and crowley have the power to say no now. they can move on with their lives and not feel obligated to involve themselves #in heaven and hells business. and no doubt crowley wants to stay as far out of it as possible #hes content to just be a human now basically. and hes frustrated that at the first opportunity aziraphale is diving back into it #and once again crowley is forced to close ranks and focus on only protecting aziraphale. only now its more frustrating because #aziraphale can say no! crowley tried to get them out of there before but of course aziraphale couldnt. and crowley understood that #to some extent anyways #and now theyre finally free to do as they wish like he wanted and aziraphale still cant fully break away #he just wants them both to be safe but aziraphale makes that very difficult. he loves him of course but its so frustrating for crowley #like WHY cant he just enjoy their freedom. why cant he seize it with both hands. thats all hes every wanted for them #its the same conflict as in 1x04 but worse now. because aziraphale can say no and he can choose crowley over heaven. so why isnt he #ohhhhh the interpersonal conflict. its so juicy. its gonna be so good i can just feel it in my bones in my SOUL #good omens #good omens spoilers #ineffable husbands #meta tag

[lenaellsi]

I'm wondering how much of the fandom reaction of "Aziraphale doesn't ACTUALLY want Crowley to be an angel, he just wants to keep him safe/happy!" is because we spent four years between seasons assuming that Aziraphale had already accepted that Heaven and Hell aren't all that different, and that demons and angels aren't inherently good or bad. And it's difficult to let go of that idea in the same way that it's difficult to let go of the idea that they talked their shit out That Night At Crowley's Flat and have been happy ever since. But to actually understand Aziraphale's choice without hiding it behind coffee or lies or secret plans or body swaps or magic tricks or purely romantic intentions, we have to to understand that Aziraphale is still working under an incorrect framework of the world as divided into Cosmic Good and Cosmic Evil.

Because the thing is. Aziraphale does not like that Crowley is a demon. He just doesn't. We can talk about his reasons, but I really don't think that it's a disputable fact at this point. Aziraphale CONSTANTLY talks down to Crowley about the differences between them, and disparages demons in general and Crowley in particular over and over again. I mean, he's obviously just spewing the party line at this point, but he even describes the ultimate triumph of Heaven over Hell as "rather lovely." To Crowley. Where does he think Crowley fits, in that scenario? Is he thinking about it? (He is, surely, given how distressed he is over the danger Crowley is in due to the Arrangement?)

Crowley, to be fair, often says similar things about himself, and hates when Aziraphale calls him things like 'nice.' But as I've mentioned in another post, I think 2.03 makes it all but canon that a lot of that is self-preservation. Hell can't know that he's running around saving children and rescuing people from suicide and poverty, or he'll get dragged down there for decades. Crowley doesn't really think of himself as evil--he's visibly upset during their argument when Aziraphale hits him with "you're the bad guys!" because he thinks Aziraphale knows him better than that.

But instead, Aziraphale makes knee-jerk assumptions about Crowley and his intentions over and over again, including that he's behind the Reign of Terror in Paris and, about two minutes before realizing he's in love with him, that he's working with Nazis. Crowley seems annoyed and hurt both times, and denies it. There's no demonic posturing from him then.

Which makes the Job ep really interesting, right? Because Crowley actively lies and says that he is doing the properly demonic thing, but Aziraphale doesn't buy it. And why doesn't he buy it?

"I know the angel you were."

To Aziraphale, Crowley's kindness stems from the traces of that angel he knew. He thinks Crowley does good in spite of his nature, and not because of who he is as a person, life experiences as a demon very much included. This is because to Aziraphale, Heaven is Good, and all goodness must stem from it.

I've seen people get accused, when making this point, of attacking Aziraphale, or saying that he doesn't love Crowley, which is a ridiculous takeaway from S2. I've never seen a person more obviously in love, or a person more obviously trying to do good in the world. But so much of Aziraphale is tied up in his ability to believe multiple contradictory things at once. (See: the 80 years between "maybe there is something to be said for shades of gray" and "Heaven is the side of truth, of light, of good.") That doesn't make him stupid or ill-intentioned (in fact, he wouldn't need to do the kind of mental gymnastics we see from him if he wasn't clever enough to see through at least some of the bullshit) but it does mean that he's fully capable of loving Crowley while at the same time believing that demons are 'the bad guys.' Solution? Make Crowley an angel. Fix him, fix the bad apples in Heaven, be happy together, eliminate human suffering. Vavoom. Sorted.

Idk man. I'm constantly seeing takes that just...completely discount that Aziraphale really, genuinely, has misunderstood Crowley and the way the world works in his choice to return to Heaven. We can't blame it all on miscommunication. The most honest conversation in the world wouldn't fix this. Aziraphale has to go up there, without Crowley, and learn for the last time that Heaven is not Good, and will never be Good, because there is no Good. Good doesn't come from Heaven, or God, or even Crowley (and I see y'all, putting Crowley on a pedestal, saying Aziraphale wants to remake Heaven in his image--stop it.) Good comes from making the choice, in a very complicated world, to help as best you can, and it comes from love. And that's what Aziraphale will learn in season 3.

#good omens #good omens meta #good omens season 2 #aziraphale #gos2 spoilers #long post #sorry about the paragraphs of meta every couple of days. I'm still unwell about it all. #this will be the last one. maybe. who can say

[howmanyholesinswisscheese]

i made more sad stuff

Three days ago I made a post here about aziraphale and crowley and it made a lot of people sad. One of those people was adoptive son and disappointment to the family name @weirdly-specific-but-ok, who proceeded to hit me back by unearthing my deep seated dad issues writing a movie.

Long story short we roped each other into a duel slash sad-off, because i cry easily and he decided to exploit that because he's evil a great guy, and now it's my turn to throw a punch.

Take this Asmi. Take this. The long version, under the cut.

***

Relief is… Relief is. Relief is a difficult emotion.

Relief is, technically, a feeling of reassurance and relaxation following release from anxiety or distress. Aziraphale should know – he owns several copies of the dictionary. And Crowley should, too – he helped write it.

There are many things relief is, and there are just as many if not more that relief is not.

Relief is not seeing your best friend again. There is no reassurance, no relaxation to be found in glimpsing his familiar white curls at the doorstep of the bookshop he abandoned when you know the reason he’s here, and it’s not you. There is no release to be gained from the sort of desperation that forces you back to the sullen, once affectionate eyes that you know will hide from you behind dark glasses despite how much you love them – only a dull, familiar pain.

Relief is not saving the world with him. Not when you’ve done that before. Not when he is your world, and you have failed so spectacularly at keeping him safe as to end up hurting him. When humanity is saved once more, distress still lingers, and your hands still shake at the thought of reaching out and touching him.

Relief is not being alone with him. When all is said and done, and you both return to the home that is not your home, the scars left by each other’s words still bind your hands like fishing wire, sawing deeper into your skin the harder you struggle to break free. To walk by his side is to wade through a sea of regret, knee-deep, and you cannot stand to see the pain you put on his face.

Relief is not this bookshop, this sacred place you tarnished with an offer you will never stop regretting. With insults you would give your life to take back.

Relief is not any of this.

Relief is a Demon interrupting your bumbling attempts at filling the hollow silence that fills, unbidden, the place you wish you could both call home, yet do not dare to anymore. Relief is a gentle voice, a voice so soft that you could never tell that it comes from the lips of a fallen angel.

Saying, “Aziraphale. Stop. Just stop.”

Relief is permission to breathe.

Relief is an Angel gathering his thoughts and somehow still stumbling trying to tell you how he feels. He gestures wildly, and you watch fondly as he puts words to the ineffable. Relief is some things never changing.

Relief is the Angel who hurt you saying, “All I ever wanted was for you to be safe.” Saying, “Please, please tell me I didn’t make you think I don’t care for you. Because if I did, I am so, so very sorry.”

Relief is not taking his hands in yours, his beautiful, beautiful hands, and brushing a thumb over the marks he’s subconsciously scratched into them, calluses and raw skin that tell the tale of a life without your love. But it is in how he squeezes back.

You tell him that you hurt him, too. That you’re sorry.

You tell him that you love him and you see his eyes widen, then brim with tears.

Relief is a second chance. A second kiss, and it’s nothing like your first. It’s full of life, and hope, and none of the anger that laced the way your lips last met. It’s the hands of a Demon cupping the cheeks of an Angel, gentle and tender and shaking slightly, and that only makes it all the more real.

Relief is a Demon’s tears, freely falling. They mix with yours, staining your lips with salt, and yet nothing you’ve done has ever tasted this sweet. You have known love as a dagger, twisting in your gut. This is not that. This is the love of someone who has known its absence and oh, has his pain only ever made him kind.

Relief is your Angel still clinging to you, after all that you’ve done. His hands come up to grip your forearms, as if you’d ever leave again, not after this. As if you could bring yourself to, when he kisses so softly you have to choke down a sob. He is a being of love, and yet he craves yours like a dying man. Relief is knowing he will never let go.

When you both pull back, it is only to wipe away the tears. You cried the last time you kissed, but not like this. You’ve never cried tears of joy like these before. They are bittersweet, and they taste like everything you’ve never said.

There are no words spoken through gritted teeth, there is forgiveness in both your eyes but it is the tender kind, and you have never known a moment to be so full of care.

“I missed you,” chokes the Angel who had once been so terrified. There is no resentment in his voice, not like last time.

“Missed you too,” comes the watery reply of a Demon completely and enormously in love, and he does not turn and walk away.

You sob, and he sobs, and you fall into each other, smiling despite the tears that spill down your cheeks and trace familiar lines that were born of heartbreak and pain, now carved deeper by the spoils of such a release. You laugh together, and you hold on tight, and everything feels okay. Because for the first time in so long, your tears are happy, and you are where you belong.

This is relief in its purest form: forgiveness, and a second chance.

You will live, forever, in this moment, this moment that is entirely yours and yours alone. Even far away, after years go by and you find yourselves in a cottage in the South Downs, you will never leave this moment. You will never leave his arms.

Relief will stop being tears and broken apologies. It will be waking up next to him, and watching the rise and fall of his chest as the sun rises and the nightingales sing in the apple tree you planted outside together. It will be wrapping your arms around his waist as he cooks and tasting spoonfuls of batter as he scolds you.

It will be an Angel and a Demon, and a world in which those titles do not matter.

END.

Update: ao3 link here :)

#sorry again guys so sorry #SORRY #i might put this on ao3 who knows #i played with perspective a bit so it feels a little funky but oh well #good omens #aziraphale #crowley #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #ineffable breakup #fic

[badaziraphaletakes]

This may be a bad place to ask this question, but I have a bad headache and feel like making poor choices.

If some fans who have posited this turn out to be right-I will not feel surprised or that the story choice was unfounded or unearned- but at the moment I'm of the personal opinion that Aziraphale really did like the idea of going back to Heaven to fix it from the inside with Crowley and that his face at the end is a mixture of sadness about breaking up with Crowley and alarm at what Metatron has just revealed about the second coming.

If we take the story at face value-I am struggling to see why this would engender quite so much hatred of Aziraphale. In taking the narrative at face value as I am currently doing- I see a being desperate for approval and acceptance in an abusive system that they've believed in their whole lives and breaking out of that is really really difficult and sometimes there are setbacks. I guess one of the emotions I feel for Aziraphale right now is pity.

Given some recent blog posts of your's on my dash, I think there might be something I'm missing though?

This may be a bad place to ask this question, but I have a bad headache and feel like making poor choices.

Hi! Thanks for reaching out! It’s not a poor choice! We definitely want to keep these lines of dialogue open :) We try our best to be respectful when engaging in discussions like these! After all, our goal is to promote a more respectful and inclusive fandom.

If some fans who have posited this turn out to be right-I will not feel surprised or that the story choice was unfounded or unearned- but at the moment I'm of the personal opinion that Aziraphale really did like the idea of going back to Heaven to fix it from the inside with Crowley and that his face at the end is a mixture of sadness about breaking up with Crowley and alarm at what Metatron has just revealed about the second coming.

It’s certainly possible. I don’t blame him for wanting to believe what the Metatrash said - after all, ever since Crowley fell, Aziraphale has never for one moment imagined that there’s any possible scenario where he and Crowley could be safe together, so no wonder he leapt at the idea of them both being able to be in heaven together (assuming that’s what happened and he wasn’t, idk, bluffing or something - but I’m not even gonna open that can of worms lol). Also, I don’t personally think it’s wrong of him to want to try to fix heaven from the inside, either. It’s not like he has any other choice, after all.

I am struggling to see why this would engender quite so much hatred of Aziraphale. Us too! :)

In taking the narrative at face value as I am currently doing Fwiw, I don’t think anyone is or isn’t taking the FF “at face value”. It’s very clear there’s a lot of the FF we didn’t see and a lot of things about it that were deliberately meant to be confusing. It makes sense that some people think Aziraphale was happy at the idea of Crowley going back to heaven and some people don’t and some people think Crowley stopped time and some people don’t and some people think the whole thing was planned and some people think Aziraphale had a bullet in his mouth and some don’t, lol! :)

I see a being desperate for approval and acceptance in an ab*sive system that they've believed in their whole lives That’s definitely one possible explanation and if that is what was going on in Azi’s brain, that’s FINE and NOBODY has the right to condemn him for it.

But here’s the thing: We saw that Metatrash could hear what was being said in the bookshop and that Aziraphale knew that.

Given that, it’s a very safe bet that the conversation was very different because Aziraphale knew he was listening.

(We also have the extremely unsubtle “coffee or death” metaphor and we saw that Metatrash tapped the Coffee or Death logo which just happened to be facing toward Aziraphale and that Aziraphale saw him do it. Metatrash was holding a gun to his head.)

Is it possible that Aziraphale wants Metatrash’s/heaven’s approval and acceptance / still believes in him to some extent? Sure. HOWEVER. We should never assume victims believe the things their ab*sers force them to say. As a survivor, I can attest that that assumption is exceptionally painful and burdensome for victims to have to live with and multiplies the psychological harm. (And sadly, the assumption is rampant in our culture. There have been studies that show that people think victims in hostage videos who read statements prepared by their kidnappers with a gun held to their head actually believe the things they’re being forced to say. It’s deeply troubling. Not saying this is what you’re doing just to be clear lol!)

Victims get into this horrible mental pretzel of thinking that they’re as bad as their ab*ser and must secretly like and/or deserve and/or "cause" the ab*se, and so on, yada yada yada. It plays into the ab*ser's goals of causing alienation from friends and loved ones so that the victim has to depend completely on them for physical and emotional reasons, and of eroding the victim's sense of self, by making them think they're a bad person. (E.g. Victim thinks "I must be a bad person, because if I were a good person, I wouldn't have let [ab*ser's name] make me say that my friend is fat" etc etc). It’s really one of the most depressing aspects of ab*se.

Given that, I think practicing giving Aziraphale (or whatever character) the benefit of the doubt and defaulting to the interpretation of his motives that attributes as much influence as possible to the literal gun to his head lol (i.e. he’s going back to heaven because he doesn’t have a choice and needs to do it to protect Crowley, slash also to save the world, because, let’s face it, it’s not like they have any other options; they were only able to interfere with Armageddon in S1 because Crowley’s official position working for hell gave him an in) is good for us to get into the habit of, so we can make sure we extend the same respect and dignity to real-life victims/survivors. (At this blog we are HUGE believers in the idea that the way we behave toward characters informs the way we behave toward real-life people, and also reflects it).

and breaking out of that is really really difficult and sometimes there are setbacks.

Absolutely. The physical setbacks (i.e. “my ab*ser will kill me if I leave” &c &c) are far too often underattributed, however, with far too much of victims’ motivations for staying being put down to “psychological confusion” or “emotional ties” or whatever. I wish we as a society would pay more attention to how to solve the problem of ab*sers committing ab*se in the first place, and then why they are so much more likely to kill their victims if they try to leave, rather than the question of why some victims are still in love with their ab*sers and so on and so forth. Because that is the only way we'll ever find a solution. Whether you’d want to stay with the ab*ser even if you had the choice to leave is completely irrelevant when you can’t leave because they’d kill you if you did.

I guess one of the emotions I feel for Aziraphale right now is pity.

Us too!

Given some recent blog posts of your's on my dash, I think there might be something I'm missing though?

Hope this helped! :) Again, thank you for a very thoughtful ask! It gave me an opportunity to revisit some points that I think bear re-iterating frequently on the blog anyway, so I appreciate that!

#good omens #goodomens #aziraphale #good omens 2 #goodomens2 #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #ineffablehusbands #cw: abuse #ineffable divorce #aziraphale defense squad #aziraphale my beloved

[onceuponapuffin]

Fanatic Intervention Part 6!!

Not much to say here this time. I'm glad you all are enjoying this. I'm having a blast! :D

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*****************

After a while you speak.

“Well,” You say, “I can tell you what we’re not doing. We are not going to see Mr. Gaiman. Honestly, Crowley, the man is a genius, but he is also a troll. He doesn’t give away plot – if anything he gives the most chaotic response he can think of, and then tells you to wait and see. SO, that wouldn’t help us at all.”

Muriel is the next to speak.

“Um, also I don’t think those other angels are on earth?”

“Would we know if they were?” You say, looking to Aziraphale. The principality shrugs.

“To be honest, I really don’t know. It was such a long time ago.”

“Okay,” You say, “So we call up Anathema, and we go to America to look for Jesus. I mean...the things that Neil and Terry plotted out did happen, even if they weren’t all identical to the book. So it’s probably safe to assume that the pattern will continue.”

“Right,” Aziraphale says, reaching for his rotary phone, “I’ll call Miss Device.”

“Hold on,” Crowley says, “Who’s this we who’s going to America?”

“You, Aziraphale, Anathema, Me,” You say, “Muriel needs to stay here and look after the bookshop. Maybe Newt could --”

“And what makes you think you’re coming?” The demon presses.

“The fact that I dropped in from another reality, know everything that has happened so far, and is the only one with half an idea of what’s going to happen next. Also Anathema is going to need help wrangling the two of you.”

“Whassat supposed to mean?”

“You’re a pair of Disaster Puppies.”

Crowley opens his mouth again, offended.

“Trouble does seem to find us an awful lot,” Aziraphale says. Clearly he’s decided to give you the benefit of the doubt. You make a mental note that he is not upset with being called a Disaster Puppy for some reason. Priorities maybe?? You let it go.

“Great,” You say, “So it’s settled.”

------------

All things considered, it doesn’t take very long for Anathema and Newt to arrive. Apparently they happened to be visiting London. What are the chances of that? It’s almost like this is a work of fiction that I am writing and so I can make things surprisingly convenient if I want to. Now, let’s continue.

It takes longer to answer Newt’s questions than it does to fill Anathema in on the situation. You’re grateful for her sharp mind and willingness to accept things that are...well...difficult to just accept. Probably comes with being a witch/occultist. Once they both know the full story, and Newt’s curiosities are satisfied, Anathema nods.

“Okay,” she says, “Right. So we need to save the world again, and we’re hinging all of our bets on finding Jesus and successfully convincing him to help us? Seems...like a long shot. Like, a really long shot.”

“These two have managed to succeed with implausible plans before,” You point out. Anathema hums. She doesn’t seem convinced.

“I mean, it’s not that I mind helping you. Jesus probably has the kind of aura that I could find and track without too much trouble. I would just...really have appreciated that if you were going to interrupt our getaway that you would at least have a backup plan. Or, maybe some intel that’s actually intelligence instead of guesses. Like if Aziraphale had actually been in Heaven as the Supreme Archangel, he could have been feeding us information and instructions. And then we would know for sure where to go and what to do.”

Oh. A rock sinks to your stomach. And you suppose that after making them ward the bookshop like that then...needing to leave it...you just might have accidentally put a target on your backs. Whoops. Turns out saving the world one step at a time is really, really hard.

“That would have been way too dangerous though!” You say, desperate for your own defense, “I’m not putting these two in anymore danger than absolutely necessary. I….” You look over at your beloved angel and demon, then turn back to Anathema. “I need them to be okay,” You admit quietly. That’s what it’s all about for us, isn’t it? All the theories, all of the South Down Cottage manifesting. The fanart, the fanfiction, the edits and animatics. We love them and while we understand that they need to go through angsty things to grow, in the end we need them to be okay.

Well, most of us anyway. I can’t speak for everyone.

You feel a hand on your shoulder. Aziraphale is there once again.

“And we will be,” he says softly. You hear Anathema sigh.

“Right,” she says, “okay, so we head to America. I need to go home first and get my supplies. Newt will stay here with Muriel and help them hold the fort.”

“Um...this is a bookshop?” Muriel adds uncertainly.

“I bet,” Newt says slowly, “That if I help a few people around here with their computers, I might make enough mischief to convince Heaven that there’s still a demon around here. Then that looks almost like you’re still here, right? Might buy you some time at least.”

“It’s worth a shot,” Anathema says. Muriel practically glows.

“Oh! I get to live with an actual human! You can teach me human things!”

“Oh, uh yeah,” Newt says, “I don’t see why not. It’ll be fun.”

Anathema agrees to return with Newt in two days. She expects you lot to sort out the plane tickets “Because,” she says, “I am not having you fly me over, or poof me over, or whatever it is that you do.”

“I am a demon! I do not poof!”

“I don’t care. I want plane tickets.”

“Ooh!” You say, raising your arm in the air with a jump. “Can they be first class? I’ve never flown first class before!”

Crowley groans. Aziraphale sighs.

“We are not genies,” Aziraphale says, “Or banking machines.”

“No, but you do have unlimited resources so in a way,” You say, pausing for dramatic effect, a mischievous smile spreading from ear to ear, “You are like Santa Claus!”

You make a fast exit from the room before Aziraphale can say anything. Crowley is laughing and you hear what you think is a chair falling over.

❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🖤

Beginning || Previous || Next

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #good omens 2 #good omens fandom #aziraphale x crowley #good omens fanart #we can call this art right? #aziracrow lasts forever #ineffable fandom #let's write #fanfiction #good omens fanfiction #good omens fanfic #poll fic #choose your own adventure #fanatic intervention #part 6 #making myself laugh tbh #anathema #newt #muriel #metatron #good omens 3 #good omens season 3 #neil gaiman #ineffable idiots #crowley is disaster coded

[southernpansy666]

Bad Omens Book 4: Ineffable Part 1 (Full Length Novel)

Bad Omens Book 4: Ineffable Part 1

By SouthernPansy666

Good o

Prologue

Eden Alexandria Queen Fell folded up her tartan blanket and Doctor Who TARDIS blanket and placed them on the bed. She had another nightmare. They weren't as frequent as they used to be but whenever they returned, they were still very intense.

But this one was a little different from the others….it was Death, coming for her with the flaming sword, followed by swirling images of Hastur, Sandalphon and Aamon lunging towards her….followed by fire and blood….

Eden pushed the images away as she them grabbed Ducky from his shelf along with her newest companion, Doctor Bear. A teddy bear dressed as the Tenth Doctor, one of her 25th birthday presents. He had been a great source of comfort ever since she got him. Star, Eden's dog, wagged her tail in excitement as Eden placed Doctor Bear, Ducky and her Paddington in a tote bag are gathered up the blankets.

"Come on girl." Star followed Eden out of the cottage. Eden didn't want to disturb her parents, she overheard her Daddy, Crowley have another nightmare and it was a bad one….whether it was about Paris, last Halloween or the War…..she couldn't be sure. Her Papa and him had talked so quietly that she couldn't really make out what they were saying.

She and Star stopped by Samwise Gamgee's stable and the old horse seemed to be expecting them.

At long last, the group was inside the TARDIS. Eden had strewn about blankets on the floor so they would be more comfortable. She draped the tartan blanket over Samwise and her plushies were snuggled next to her along with Star. Eden then pulled her Doctor Who blanket around her and drifted to sleep. Clutching her sonic screwdriver and her TARDIS key.

Chapter 1

Aziraphale tiptoed down the hallway until he reached Eden's room. The dark blue TARDIS door was left open by a crack, which meant that Crowley had checked on her not to long ago. Which was good, the demon had been sleeping a bit better lately.

As for the angel…..it had been difficult. He mostly had been spending the nights reading and watching over Crowley, ready to step in whenever a nightmare became too intense. And now during the nightly routine he took it upon himself to check on Eden.

Aziraphale gently pushed the door open a bit more and his gaze found his daughter, sound asleep underneath her Doctor Who blanket, blue TARDIS'S swirling among the stars. Aziraphale beamed at the sight. Eden was snuggled next to her black and white dog, Star. Both of them warm and snuggled under the blanket.

Aziraphale had grown quite fond of the dog and was relieved to see both of them sleeping peacefully.

For an entire year and some time after…..he would dread his daughter having to either sleep and be tormented by nightmares or to wake and be in terrible pain.

Aziraphale slipped in the room and approached the bedside and he gently reached out to stroke Eden's flame red curls, reminding himself yet again that it was no longer damp with blood.

Aziraphale felt a lump in his throat at the memory but he pushed it away.

That didn't matter now. His Little One was here, safe in bed and alive. Under his protection.

Aziraphale had no idea how long he stood at the bedside, watching over Eden and Star when he felt a warm hand on his shoulder.

"Angel." It was Crowley. "Everything okay?"

Aziraphale squeezed his husband's hand tightly. "Everything is fine my love. I just thought I pop in and check on the girls." Aziraphale leaned down and gave Eden and Star a kiss.

"Did you have a nightmare?" Crowley asked his voice sharp with concern.

"I haven't been sleeping dear, you know that."

"I know, why do you think I'm worried?" The two of them left the room and as Crowley shut the door Aziraphale replied, "But I would like to get some rest, do you think you can help me with that dear boy?"

Crowley smiled softly. "Of course angel."

Chapter 2

Archangel Gabriel stared at the small black box in his hand. He opened the lid and examined the ring for what must have been the millionth time today. His tailor referred him to a jeweler friend of his and he did not disappoint.

The ring was a crystal blue star cut diamond with a silver band. The band was a silver serpent with two tiny blue diamonds for its eyes. It was perfect. Or to be more accurate, ineffable.

Gabriel had taken upon himself to find the means to make his bond with Eden both official and permanent, and fortunately for him, Aziraphale was more than willing to help. The angel had practically wept tears of joy when the Archangel revealed to the Principality that he wanted to "marry" Eden. Gabriel had learned of the term and its meaning the more time he spent with the Fells, and the Archangel determined very quickly that he wanted what Aziraphale and Crowley had with Eden.

Chapter 3

Archangel Gabriel had just stepped into the bookshop when Aziraphale rounded the corner smiling from ear to ear. "How did the ring turn out?"

Gabriel grinned as he handed Aziraphale the small box. "I think she'll like it."

"Oh its stunning!" Aziraphale gushed, "She will definitely love it. Although, if you don't mind me asking, why did you choose this particular design?" Aziraphale was genuinely curious. Aziraphale had taken his pinky ring, melted it down and had it made into two different rings for them, one the shape of angel wings and the other the shape of a serpent.

Aziraphale glanced down at his golden serpent ring fondly as Gabriel replied, "I chose this blue diamond because it reminds me of her eyes, the star cut in honor of our second outing under the stars…." Aziraphale smiled. That had been the night Eden had snuck out to meet the Archangel. "And I don't think I need to explain the snake band."

"Definitely not." Aziraphale concurred as Gabriel suddenly realized something. "Where is Eden? And Crowley for that matter?" The bookshop felt strange without seeing or hearing Eden and Crowley's raucous laughter or their own form of banter.

"Not to worry." Aziraphale replied with a smug grin. "I sent them both too run some errands, we have plenty of time. Now let's go to the back room, I put the kettle on just before you got here. I want to hear how you plan to propose to my Little One!"

Gabriel smiled but then realized something, "What about Crowley? We-I mean, I still need to tell him and get his blessing…."

"We'll worry about that later, now come along, don't keep your future father in law waiting!"

Chapter 4

Crowley laughed as he watched Eden try to sneak a bite from a freshly washed carrot. One of the many errands that had to be done was to pick the vegetables from the garden. While Crowley was washing another carrot, a tannish brown arm had appeared at his side and was very sneakily dragging a carrot across the countertop.

"Queenie, just eat the damn carrot. You're killing me!" Crowley snorted. The hand, that was serving as the creatures head, opened in shock, then grabbed the carrot and disappeared.

"Now, will the snek come back and try a tomato?"

Chapter 5

"I'm going to take her to your stargazing place. At night of course so the clearing will be lit with starlight. I'll have the picnic table there all spruced up with a spread of food, Fish N' Chips and lemonade, the first meal we ever had together. And….I'll pop the question either during or after the meal. I haven't decided yet."

Aziraphale beamed as he refilled the Archangel's tea cup. "That sounds so romantic Gabriel. I'm truly happy for you both."

Gabriel shrugged, "She hasn't even said yes yet."

"I'm sure she will. She loves you very much and she has told me that she would like to get married one day….although at the time neither of us would have guessed it would be you!"

Gabriel let out a sigh of relief, but it caught in his throat when Aziraphale concluded, "Now we just have to tell Crowley and everything will be tickety boo!"

Chapter 6

As the two angels enjoyed their tea, Gabriel asked, "How have you all been doing?" The Archangel felt his stomach twist when Aziraphale's expression turned into a worried look. "Crowley and I…..we're doing much better but we have are good days along with some bad…but…"

"But?"

Aziraphale sighed, "It's Eden. I'm really worried…"

Gabriel tensed, "Has her PTSD gotten worse? Has the holy fire damaged her further?" The Archangel had half a mind to run to South Downs right then and there.

"No, nothing like that. She seems to be doing fine, like us she has her good days and bad….it's just….she's been spending a lot of time in her TARDIS."

"Is that a bad thing?" Gabriel asked confused.

"Usually no, but she spends most of her days there…and nights. We found her sleeping in there with her stuffed animals and Samwise and Star. Good thing Crowley has a spare key to the TARDIS otherwise we wouldn't be able to check on her."

"I have been busy planning and preparing for this proposal…..I haven't been spending as much time with her as normal…." Gabriel admitted guiltily, already blaming himself for this turn of events.

"Now there will be none of that Gabriel! I've told Eden that you're renovating your cottage so she won't become suspicious. This actually started a little while before you asked for my blessing for this proposal." Aziraphale took a sip of tea and continued. "Perhaps this proposal is what she needs. You genuinely make her happy."

"And I intend to keep it that way."

Chapter 7

Crowley, his hands shaking, gathered up the pile of bloody towels and washcloths. He and Aziraphale had just finished cleaning the blood from their daughter's corpse. Eden was now dressed in one of her unicorn nightgowns and he draped a tartan blanket over her. It felt wrong to leave her there with no blanket, especially when she was so cold…..

"I must go check on Gabriel." Aziraphale said tightly, tears still fell from his husband's eyes as the angel left Eden's bedroom to check on the Archangel.

Something inside Crowley snapped as he scooped up his daughter's limp body yet again. He hugged her close, attempted to resurrect her again and when his healing didn't work he snarled under his breath, "You promised." Tears fell onto Eden's pale face. "You promised that you would protect her. Is this what your plan was all along? To have my daughter die in agony?" Crowley bared his teeth as he looked up at the ceiling, ignoring the glow in the dark stars that he himself had put there when he finished building the nursery all those years ago. "After everything that Aziraphale did for you and humanity…..she was the sweetest and kindest girl in the world but you still let her die…..you did nothing while Lucifer……" Crowley broke into a sob but regained his composure and spat, "Fuck you and your Ineffable Plan. Fuck you."

Chapter 8

When Aziraphale didn't find Eden in her room reading he decided to check the TARDIS. It was parked just beyond the vegetable garden where Eden's reading clearing and their picnic area was nearby.

Eden had been spending a lot of time there lately, more so than usual…

"Eden, Little One? Are you there? May I come in?" The angel asked as he knocked gently.

"Yes Papa?" Eden replied, forcing her voice to sound normal when the door creaked open. The sudden knock had scared her half to death.

"You've been out here for quite awhile, are you alright love?" Aziraphale instinctively reached out and ran a hand through her untamed curls.

"Yeah, just reading. " Eden replied casually as Aziraphale inspected the tartan bow barrette in her hair, making sure it was straight. "We'll then, how about we get supper started? How does spaghetti and meatballs sound? Your father has already started on the meatballs…"

The angel smiled ever wider when Eden brightened up at his words, "Oh yes please! I'm starving!" There she was. His Little One, smiling and happy. As the two of them walked towards South Downs hand in hand, Eden took a quick glance back at the TARDIS, anxious to return as soon as she could.

Chapter 9 Aziraphale set the batch of freshly baked sugar cookies on the counter. "There we are, now, how about we make some icing for these cookies? Vanilla and chocolate?" Aziraphale turned and realized that he was alone in the kitchen. He darted to the back door and peered out and sure enough, he saw Eden entering the TARDIS.

Chapter 10 Crowley felt his heart tear in half as another bout of coughing erupted from Eden. "Unnnngh." she moaned as she drifted awake. "Ow."

Aziraphale placed a gentle hand on their daughter's chest, "Easy darling…easy…." Aziraphale glanced at Crowley. "Love, I think she needs another blanket." Ever since this fever hit, Eden had been shivering nonstop. "Papa…." Eden moaned.

"I'm here my dearest." Aziraphale replied as he gently cradled Eden in his arms, making sure that she was still covered by the blankets. "It hurts and I'm cold…."

"I'll be back in a second." Crowley said tightly as he opened the bedroom door and stepped into the hallway…..

And was met with the sight of the Archangel Gabriel, sitting on the floor in the hallway with his back against the wall. The Archangel was hunched over, hugging his knees. He must have been here all night and most of the day, Crowley realized.

"How is she?" Gabriel asked as he lifted his head, his purple gaze filled with worry.

"Not good." Crowley replied curtly. Crowley saw fresh tears in the Archangel's eyes. "When….when can I see her?" His voice was sharp with desperation to see the woman he loved. "I don't know. " Crowley replied honestly. "We've been trying to get her to rest but the blasted coughing keeps bothering her…and the damn pain isn't helping her either." Crowley barely finished his sentence as he quickly turned away and went to his and Aziraphale's bedroom to collect their extra blankets.

As Crowley passed the Archangel to deliver the haul of blankets, Gabriel rasped, "Please, take my blankets from the guest room and give them to Eden. She needs them more than I do."

Gabriel gazed up at the amber eyed demon and added, "Tell her that I'm here for her." Crowley's expression was unreadable but Gabriel didn't want to bother trying to figure out what he was thinking. He simply wanted the okay to go see Eden if only for a few minutes. The last time he visited her she barely had the strength to talk to him or look at him with those beautiful eyes of hers. Gabriel hung his head and hugged his knees when Crowley went back into Eden's bedroom.

Gabriel felt something soft and warm being draped over his shoulders. It was a blanket. He looked up and he met the teary eyes of Crowley. "Come on in, she's been asking for you."

Chapter 11

Crowley was brought out of the memory by the sound of Aziraphale and Eden entering the cottage. Crowley savored the sound of his daughter and husband laughing and greeted them both with a smile.

After a scrummy meal of spaghetti and meatballs with homemade garlic bread, Crowley and Aziraphale stepped out of the dining room with Crowley as Eden began to clear the table.

"She seems alright to me angel." Crowley whispered. "I think you might be overreacting a bit."

"Crowley, I have every right to do so after everything she has been through!" Aziraphale replied tightly.

Crowley shrugged. "She told us about her nightmare that night when it happened, unlike before when she wouldn't tell us anything at all. Yes, I would have preferred it if she woke us, but she went to her TARDIS, her sanctuary. Isn't that why we built it for her?"

"That's what bothers me Crowley. " Aziraphale said sternly. "This isn't normal. Not at all. We should have been the first people she came to, not to that infernal blue box!"

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that we need to get her back into the old routine. No more squandering her days in the TARDIS."

Crowley said, "I think she just wants her space….and she doesn't spend every moment in the TARDIS angel. She still works with you at the shop and she's pretty much been back to her old schedule since Gabriel hasn't been around lately." And that was fine by Crowley. Things were back to normal at the shop, he and Eden were back to their normal shenanigans, (which entailed scaring off customers who were staying to long or just getting Aziraphale to stop working so he could join in on their fun)…. The demon had been enjoying the Archangel's absence.

Aziraphale had nearly lost his patience. "That's at the shop. I'm talking about here at South Downs. She's starting to shut us out again Crowley, we can't let that happen. We need to get back into the routine here, until Gabriel is free to spend time with her again."

Crowley arched an eyebrow, "Speaking of which, where has that pompous bellend been lately?" Since it was just the three of them again at the moment, Crowley was back to being the one who would take Eden out for lunch during her breaks, along with Papa of course. Fine by him.

"Did that fuckface say something that upset her? If he did I swear I'll-"

"No dear." Aziraphale cut him off mid snarl. "He's renovating his cottage. Eden is aware of this…"

The fathers froze at the sound of Eden's call, "Daddy, Papa, I cleaned up. I'm going back to the TARDIS now."

Aziraphale shot Crowley a pleading look as Eden headed for the back door.

"Hey Queenie, why don't we do the dishes really quick and maybe, if you'd like, we can pick up where we left off on our D&D campaign. We haven't played in awhile…."

When Eden hesitated, Aziraphale added, "I'll put the kettle on and whip up a batch of snickerdoodles, your favorite Little One."

"Maybe tomorrow night guys. I'm not in the mood."

Once Eden shut the door behind her Aziraphale turned to Crowley. "You see what I mean?"

After a moment, Crowley nodded. "Yeah, that's definitely not normal…..I'm going to make a call, be back in a minute."

Aziraphale peeked out the window, and watched Eden enter the TARDIS without even glancing back at the cottage.

Chapter 12

Eden yawned and rubbed her eyes, she had lost track of how long she'd been in here again. She had been on the TARDIS'S computer, which was built into the console, and she had finally made her decision. But it wasn't time to act on it yet. She needed sleep and more importantly, wait for Gabriel to be free to come see her.

As Eden entered the cottage, she was greeted by her Papa, who had a mug of cocoa in his hand. "Oh Little One, I was just about to come out to see you! I made you some cocoa." Eden accepted the mug and thanked him.

Aziraphale guided her to the living room and they sat together on the couch. "The Youngs are coming over for afternoon tea tomorrow."

"That sounds nice." Eden replied, it would be good to see her best friends Bella and Adam Young.

"They'll be bringing little Terry along-"

"Terry?" Eden instantly brightened at the mention of her godson. Her best friends Dr Bella Young and Adam Young had a son at the beginning of the year, Terry Neil Young, and Eden was his godmother.

Crowley entered the room and added, "Yeah. And Bella and Adam want to make arrangements for you to start babysitting the little bugger."

"Really?" Eden brightened up instantly. "Oh Daddy can we go to the toy store down the street from the bookshop? I saw the cutest bear that I know Terry will love!"

Crowley grinned. "Of course love whatever you want." As Eden darted to the front door, Aziraphale said, "Thank you love."

Chapter 13

"Eden Alexandria Queen Fell, will you marry me? No that is too dull….Edie, you are absolutely ineffable and I….ugh!" Gabriel had been struggling to find the right words to propose to Eden, not to mention, he had no idea how he was going to ask Crowley for his blessing…..

The Archangel jumped when there was a knock on his door. He quickly shoved the ring in his pants pocket and darted to the door. To his delight he was greeted by the sight of Eden and her godson Terry Neil. "Hi Gabriel!" Eden smiled up at him as little Terry sucked on his thumb.

The Archangel felt his heart ache. He had been spending weeks preparing for this proposal. But these past two weeks have been the hardest. He wanted to use as much time as he needed to practice the words he was going to say when he popped the question. But it came with a price. He hadn't been able to spend time with Eden. These past two weeks felt like an eternity.

"Eden." Gabriel said breathlessly, he rushed forward and pulled her into a hug. "I've really missed you." "I missed you too, my love." Eden murmured, breathing in his familiar scent of lavender mixed with vanilla. "But you're crushing me and the baby."

Eden giggled as Gabriel apologized to Terry as he quickly pulled away. "I was wondering if you would like to take a break from renovating your cottage and come have lunch with us at South Downs." Eden said as she passed Terry to Gabriel. The baby really liked him and to Eden's delight, the Archangel, it turned out, was quite fond of children.

"That sounds lovely." Gabriel said as he shut the door behind him.

"So how's the renovation coming along?" Eden asked as they made their way down the dirt trail that would lead them to South Downs. Gabriel was pushing Terry in his stroller and nearly halted in surprise at the unexpected question.

"Oh uh it's coming along great….should be done in about a week!"

Gabriel fought the urge to not sigh in relief when Eden changed the subject as they saw the cottage in the distance.

Chapter 14

"So it seems you have solved the TARDIS problem?" Gabriel asked as he bounced Terry on his knee, just like Aziraphale showed him. The two angels were enjoying one another's company in the family room.

"Yes." Aziraphale said with a bright smile. "Eden seems to be back on track, Crowley and I are making sure she is kept busy and that we spend time with her. And she's really gravitated to her new duties as Terry's babysitter. Not to mention caring for Star and Samwise helps her too."

"That's good to hear." Gabriel replied, relieved. "I'm going to get back to spending time with her, I feel particularly responsible for this."

"Don't say or think that Gabriel." Aziraphale said. "She just needs to be reminded that she has a life that is worth living. Here and with us. That is all."

"All the same I can't bear to be apart from her anymore…"

Aziraphale nodded, "I understand dear. Now let's go see how our two gingers are doing…." The sound of splashing and raucous laughter, along with some vulgar language could be heard.

Eden and Crowley were tasked with washing vegetables for their salads and it obviously wasn't going well.

"Yeah, we better get in there before they flood the kitchen. " Gabriel concurred as he scooped up Terry and followed Aziraphale into the kitchen.

Chapter 15

As the group ate their meal, Gabriel couldn't help but smile at the sight of Eden feeding Terry his baby food, even going as far as to not to touch her own meal until after the baby had been seen too. The Archangel found it quite endearing how much Eden cared for the baby…the sight of the two together gave the Archangel yet another yearning….a yearning he couldn't really place. Instinctively, Gabriel reached towards his back pocket and felt his blood turn to ice. The ring was gone.

Meanwhile, Terry had finally ate his fill and Eden scooped the chubby boy into her arms and made her way upstairs so he could take a nap in her old crib, which had been brought out of the basement for Eden's new job.

Crowley realized that he left his sun glasses in the family room on the coffee table. He excused himself and as he made his way towards the family room, Gabriel suddenly shot under the dining table. "Bellend." Crowley muttered. He didn't want to know what or why the Archangel had been acting weird….moreso than usual. As long as the Archangel respected his little girl and didn't interfere with him spending time with her…. Crowley grabbed his glasses from the coffee table but then something sparkling and blue caught his eye….

Chapter 16

"What the bloody hell are you doing down there?" Aziraphale demanded the very second the Archangel Gabriel ducked under the dining room table. In all of his six thousand years, the Principality thought he would have never seen such a sight. "The ring….it's gone…" Gabriel replied breathlessly. "It was just in my pocket but now it's gone!" "Shit." Aziraphale swore as he too ducked under the table. "Did you check all of your pockets?"

"Of course I did! They were the first place I checked!"

After a moment of scanning the dining room floor Aziraphale said, "I don't think its here." The poor Archangel was pushing the chairs out of the way and looking under them even though it was clear that the ring was no where in sight.

"Then where could it be? I haven't taken it out of my pocket ever since I got here!" Gabriel's voice became strained with panic. "Now dear, stay calm, let's think, where have you been within the last couple of hours?"

Realization dawned on the Archangel. "The family room."

Aziraphale nodded. "Alright then, that's a start why don't we-"

Suddenly a growl cut off Aziraphale mid-sentence, "Wot the hell is this?"

Gabriel and Aziraphale peeked out from under the table and were greeted by the sight of a very pissed looking Crowley, holding the very ring that the two angels were searching for.

"Fuck." said Gabriel.

Chapter 17

"Crowley I can explain-" Gabriel began hurriedly, for fear of Crowley going off on an enraged tangent, "I wasn't going to propose to Eden until I got your blessing. I have already talked with Aziraphale and-"

Crowley interrupted, "You knew about this Angel?" Crowley glared at his husband, shocked and a little bit hurt.

"Yes dear boy. Gabriel came to me with many questions about how to make things official with our Eden and I gave my blessing."

Gabriel cut in, "And I was hoping for yours Crowley before I asked her….believe me this is not how I wanted to tell you or have you find out-" Crowley tossed Gabriel the ring and the Archangel caught it, grasping it tightly.

"I'm a demon, we don't bless anything." And without another word Crowley left the dining room.

"Crowley!" Aziraphale exclaimed as he crawled out from under the table. "I'll talk to him, soften him up a bit. Don't let his foul mood stop you my dear. You and Eden deserve your life together and if you need help with anything you only need to ask."

Gabriel watched as Aziraphale darted after his husband and quickly pocketed the ring when Eden returned to the dining room. "Gabe, Terry is finally asleep and Papa said that we can go ahead and get our dessert. What would you like? Papa and I made a cheesecake yesterday…"

Gabriel was instantly put at ease by Eden's blue serpentine eyes and loving smile. "Cheesecake sounds delicious."

Chapter 18

"Crowley that was very rude of you. And uncalled for, and unnecessary….not to mention embarrassing..…"

Crowley just sat on their bed and shrugged. "It's the truth. We don't give blessings."

"Oh don't give me that Anthony J Crowley!" Aziraphale snapped. "He wants to become an official member of this family and you didn't even consider his feelings or our daughter's."

Crowley didn't reply and just lay back on the bed, his arms crossed behind his head. Aziraphale sighed. "I had hoped that after everything Eden and Gabriel endured together, you would actually be happy when Gabriel brought this up to you….not be an ass. He truly loves her Crowley and she loves him, I know you can sense it now." Crowley forced himself not to fidget under Aziraphale's unbreakable blue gaze. "I'm going back downstairs, feel free to join us when you are done being an arsehole."

Alone at last Crowley stared up at the ceiling. The day he had always dreaded had finally come but in all honesty he didn't think it would come so soon. What was worse was that his husband was right. Crowley had been able to sense Eden's bond with the Archangel ages ago.

Crowley turned to the bedside dresser and grabbed the picture in a frame made of buttons. Eden and Aziraphale had made it for him as a Father's Day present when she was one. And the picture was of the three of them on a picnic, with little one year old Eden in her little sailor dress. Since she was so little at the time, Aziraphale did the frame but Eden's contribution was the globs of pink and red glitter.

But the sight of the red glitter suddenly reminded him of the blood that stained the pavement of the Tadfield Airbase as it pooled around Eden as she fought for breath in his husband's arms.

Crowley's hands began to tremble and he quickly set the picture down.

Crowley rose to his feet and made his way downstairs, clenching his fist, willing them to stop shaking. What was he worried about? Eden may not even say yes….

Chapter 19

Aziraphale rushed to the door when he heard a knock. He wasn't surprised when he met the nervous purple gaze of Archangel Gabriel.

The Archangel was dressed in a casual plaid shirt and jeans, "Is Eden busy?" Gabriel asked. "It's a lovely night and I wanted to see if she would like to join me for a starlit picnic."

Aziraphale smiled warmly in greeting but then his smile faltered. "She isn't busy Gabriel but I'm afraid she is in the TARDIS….she has been in there for most of the evening…." Gabriel felt his heart twist with concern. This wasn't like Eden at all.

Chapter 20

Eden was fiddling with the buttons and controls of the console and even typing on the TARDIS'S computer when suddenly there was a knock on the door.

Eden darted to the twin doors and opened one slowly, peeking around the door, only to fling it open when she met the piercing purple gaze of the Archangel Gabriel. "Gabriel? What are you doing here this late in the evening?"

"I wanted to see if you would like to join me for a evening picnic." He followed Eden inside the TARDIS. Eden flopped down on the rickety couch and sighed. "Did Papa put you up to this?" Eden pulled her sonic screwdriver from her pocket and fiddled with it.

"No, I actually would like to take you out for a picnic." Gabriel replied. "But Aziraphale did express his concern about you spending a lot of time in here….a lot more than normal."

Eden didn't reply as Gabriel sat down beside her. "He also said that he hasn't been able to get a answer from you when you have your talks at the shop."

Eden shrugged. Gabriel reached out a held her hand. "He says you change the subject. Edie, can you at least talk to me? This isn't like you at all."

After a long pause, Eden's serpentine gaze finally met his and Gabriel was instantly captivated by them once again. "Do you still want to see the world?"

Gabriel blinked slightly taken aback, "Well…yes…of course. But after everything that has happened within the last two years….I've been focusing on other things."

Eden's gaze didn't waver. "What if I could show you the world right now?" Eden rose to her feet and helped Gabriel to stand and led him to the console. Gabriel stared at the computer screen, not at all sure what he was seeing. "This is just a list of locations, along with maps, landmarks…"

"It's an itinerary of sorts." Eden clarified. "I've been working on this for ages. I want you to see and explore this world with me….and I want to explore it with you."

"Edie-"

"I've already seen the world with my parents, but there's so much you still need to see and experience and I want to do it with you."

Before Gabriel could reply Eden finished with a soft, "Before something else happens."

Chapter 21

"What do you mean by that?" Gabriel demanded, clasping Eden's hands tightly.

Eden took a breath before finally answering. "I'm scared Gabriel. I want to experience as much as I can with what little time I have left."

"Eden, why are you talking like this? Where is this coming from?"

"I-I guess I just feel like I'm living on borrowed time, and I don't want to risk missing anything with you."

"Because of the War?" Gabriel prompted gently. Eden nodded. "And everything that happened afterwards. I don't think we've seen the last of Heaven or Hell."

Gabriel reached up and stroked the slanted scar on Eden's cheek. "Have you talked to your parents about this?" Eden shook her head. "No. If they knew I was planning this trip…I was afraid that they would try to stop me. They've been going out of their way to keep me out of here. I don't mean to linger, it's just so soothing in here when my thoughts get too overwhelming."

"I think you're overthinking Edie." Gabriel said reassuringly. "I think both Heaven and Hell have finally gotten the message to leave us alone."

Eden melted into his warm hand as it caressed her scarred cheek. "And if either one of them ever tries anything to hurt you or your family again, they'll have to go through me."

Gabriel gently pulled Eden into his arms and held her close.

"But what about the world?" Eden murmured, burying her face in Gabriel's warm chest. "Don't you still want to see it?"

Gabriel buried his face in her flame red curls and replied. "The world can wait. I have more important things to see." They pulled apart to meet one another's gaze. "Now, how about that picnic?"

Eden glanced around at the familiar surroundings of the TARDIS.

"Yeah, a picnic does sound nice. Lead the way Gabe."

Chapter 22

"Oooh." Eden gushed at the sight of her family's star gazing clearing. The soft green grass was alight with the pale blue light of glowing pale blue spheres.

"Blue stars?" Eden glanced at Gabriel, amazed.

"Yes. I took a few lessons from Aziraphale on how to make stars. He himself learned a lot from your lessons with Crowley."

"Is this what you have been working on at your cottage?" Eden asked as Gabriel led her to the tartan picnic blanket waiting for them, an impressive spread of food waiting for them.

Gabriel nodded. "Yes, I wanted to treat you to a starlit picnic." Gabriel helped her to sit down on the blanket and quickly changed the subject. "I packed us a kale salad with some chicken drumsticks. Your favorite." As the two of them unpacked the picnic basket he continued, "With cinnamon rolls for dessert and for the drinks…I brought wine and lemonade. I didn't know what you would prefer so I brought both." "You're so thoughtful Gabe." Eden murmured as Gabriel poured the drinks.

Chapter 23

Crowley made his way through the foliage. He had suspected something was up when Aziraphale told him that Eden would not be joining them for dinner. So while the angel was preparing their evening meal, Crowley took it upon himself to follow Eden's scent, which was almost immediately overwhelmed by the Archangel Gabriel's scent. The two scent trails led him to Eden's TARDIS but then it veered off into Epping Forest. Which meant that they were alone in the woods at night.

It wouldn't hurt to check on Eden. Crowley told himself.

Chapter 24

"That was scrummy." Eden murmured as she snuggled against Gabriel's warm chest. They had just finished the meal and were now gazing at the blue stars that encircled the clearing.

Gabriel turned and glanced at Eden, her blue eyes even more stunning in the starlit clearing. Now was his chance.

"Edie, do you ever think about what's next for us?"

"Seeing the world together of course." Eden replied, disappointed when Gabriel pulled away to lock eyes with her.

"I mean something more permanent, like what your parents have."

"What?" Eden asked.

"An arrangement where we can be together. Where I can take care of you and we can be happy together for our entire existence." He smiled when Eden just gaped at him. "What are you saying Gabe?"

Gabriel continued, "From the very first moment I laid eyes on you, I thought you were the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. But even before I saw you, I heard you laugh and it filled me with joy and yearning. Yearning for someone who cares for me as much as I care for them, but Eden you gave me so much more than I ever asked for. You welcomed me with kindness, acceptance, and unconditional love. Which is something that Heaven abandoned ages ago. You've given me the gift of joy and laughter. I have never experienced any of these things until I met you and these past two years have been the happiest of my entire existence."

Eden blinked then rasped as tears stung her eyes. "But what about when….?" She touched her scarred cheek.

Gabriel caressed the hand that was touching her cheek. "Every moment you were gone, I ached for you. When we found a way to get you back, I didn't dare let anything stop me. And….and when you were recovering….I didn't dare lose hope. Because losing you again is simply not my department." "Pfft." Eden giggled. "You really mean that love?"

"Every word." Gabriel replied as he reached into his back pocket pulling out the ring.

"Gabriel!" Eden gasped, the ring was beautiful.

"Eden Alexandria Queen Fell, will you marry; and spend the rest of eternity with me, even though eternity isn't long enough…" Gabriel reached out, took Eden's hand and slipped the ring on her ring finger. "I love you so much Eden, more than you’ll ever know-OOF!" Gabriel was suddenly on his back as Eden collided with him in a big bear hug.

"YES YES YES A THOUSAND TIMES YES!" Eden squealed with delight. "I love you too Gabriel." she said in a softer voice. "So very much."

Gabriel laughed, blushing, his face bright red as he and Eden kissed passionately.

Ineffable. Gabriel thought as he and Eden melted in one another's arms.

From the bushes, a pair of piercing amber orange eyes stared at the couple. "Ngk." said Crowley

Chapter 25

Aziraphale had just finished preparing his and Crowley’s supper when he heard the demon enter the kitchen. Crowley was oddly quiet as the two set the table but Aziraphale ignored it, he assumed that his husband was still sour about the impending proposal.

Aziraphale was just getting ready to bring the subject up again when suddenly he heard the front door creak open and a voice call out, "DADDY! PAPA! You won't believe this! I can't believe it!"

Eden dashed into the dining room. "Papa, Papa! Gabriel just asked me to marry him! And I said yes!"

Aziraphale got up from his chair as Eden ran to him and they hugged. "Oh how wonderful my darling! I'm so happy for you both, did he get you a ring?"

"Oh yeah, look, isn't it gorgeous?" As Aziraphale and Eden admired the ring, Gabriel entered the room, looking a little shy.

"Congratulations Gabriel." Aziraphale beamed. "I'm truly happy for the both of you." Aziraphale turned to Crowley who was still seated. "Crowley, dear boy, don't be rude. Come congratulate our daughter and Gabriel." When Crowley didn't reply, Eden said, "Daddy? Is something wrong?"

Crowley, forcing himself to maintain control, rose from his chair and pulled Eden into his arms. "Nothing is wrong Queenie. I'm so happy for you, congratulations."

Chapter 26

"Isn't it a lovely ring?" Eden asked the ducks as she fed them bread crumbs. She and Gabriel had made their way to St James Park to enjoy Eden's break. And Eden wanted to relax at the pond with the ducks before the two of them returned to the bookshop. Eden and Gabriel had brought a loaf of freshly baked bread from the local bakery to feed the ducks. "Of course it's not as lovely as my Gabriel, especially when he is being swarmed by all of your beautiful ducklings." Eden thought she would explode at the sight of the Archangel, whose lap was filled to the brim with fuzzy yellow and black ducklings. The ducks of St James had taken a shine to him, and Eden was anxious to introduce him to this year's clutch of ducklings and she wasn't disappointed.

Gabriel stroked a fuzzy yellow head with a gentle finger. "This one is my favorite. He's a bit of a show off, I like that." The little bugger would puff out his chest whenever he felt like he wasn't getting enough attention or bread crumbs. And he was clearly the center of attention while he sat in Gabriel's lap.

"Why do you think I named him Archie?" Eden replied with a wicked grin.

"I don't show off." Gabriel huffed.

"Yes you do….and I like that. I think it's cute." Before Gabriel could reply, Eden pecked him on the cheek. Blushing furiously, Gabriel helped Archie and the rest of the ducklings out of his lap while Eden doled out the rest of the bread crumbs.

Chapter 27

As Eden and Gabriel walked back to the bookshop, hand in hand, Gabriel asked, "Do you have any ideas about the wedding ceremony? I'm afraid that I don't know much about it other than what I read about."

Eden nodded, "Yeah me too. But there's a lot of preparation."

Gabriel glanced at Eden, "What sort of preparation? We say our vows in front of family and friends right? Followed by a meal and dancing…." Surely they could handle that?

Eden continued suddenly sounding uncertain. "I'm afraid there's a lot more to it than that. We have to decide what kind of meal we want. What kind of cake, what our vows will be. Who we want to invite as well as determine how many guests we will be hosting. Not to mention my wedding dress, the music that we want to hear during the ceremony…and the rehearsals…" Gabriel halted to meet Eden's now worried gaze. "How long does this usually take?" Eden swallowed. "A year…or two." Gabriel gasped, shocked. "But I don't want to wait that long. I want to start our life together as soon as we can."

Eden sighed. "I know honey, but we'll be able to work this out. If worse comes to worse we can just skip the formalities and we can just have a little get together with friends and family, have someone officiate and say our vows to each other that way. We don't have to go all out." "But I want to go all out…for you Edie." Gabriel rasped. "But I wish it didn't have to take so long." Eden suddenly grinned. "It might not have to. We can either do what you suggested or what I just suggested but until we make up our minds why don't we move in together?"

Gabriel did a double take. "What?"

Eden smiled from ear to ear, "Archangel fucking Gabriel, would you like a roommate? With benefits?"

Chapter 28 "Crowley, you have been acting off ever since Eden and Gabriel told us the good news. What's gotten your knickers in a knot?" "Hmph." Crowley pouted not looking up from his wine glass. But Aziraphale knew him all too well. "Oh love, surely you didn't think she would say no did you?"

"Maybe." Crowley grunted.

"Crowley…" Aziraphale began but was interrupted by the sound of the bookshop doors being opened. "Hey Daddy, Papa! Gabriel and I have some more good news!" Eden dashed into the shop, holding Gabriel by the hand, the Archangel grinning and blushing from ear to ear.

"What is it Little One?" Aziraphale asked, instantly excited by Gabriel and Eden's demeanor. "Gabriel and I aren't exactly sure when we'll set the date for our wedding." Eden began, "But since it's going to take us a while to plan everything out, I'm going to move in with him at Archangel Falls!"

Crowley spit out his wine, shocked, while Aziraphale stood there, suddenly silent, his expression unreadable. "We both want to start our life together as soon as possible….the concept of marriage and the entire process it entails seems like it will take time and careful planning." Gabriel said.

"But we don't want to wait that long, so we decided that I should move in with Gabe." Eden added. "That way we can be together."

Before Crowley could decide how he was going to react, Aziraphale smiled brightly and yanked the couple into a warm embrace. "I think that is a wonderful idea! But I don't want either of you two to worry about the wedding plans. I will assist you both in any way I can….hell I'll plan it myself!"

"Really Papa?" Eden beamed up at Aziraphale. Aziraphale ran a hand through her untamed curls. "Really sweetheart. I must confess that I have been fantasizing about this day for quite some time…" The angel suddenly got choked up. "And the day is finally here…my Little One is all grown up." Aziraphale then turned his teary blue gaze to the Archangel. "And I am truly so happy for you both. I can sense how much you care for one another. Your bond was strong even when you hadn't known each other for long but after everything you two have endured together these past couple years, your bond is stronger than ever before." Aziraphale turned to Crowley, who had risen from his seat and miracled away the spilt wine. "Isn't that right Crowley?" "Er, yeah!" Crowley said hurriedly. "Strong connection. Not surprised really." Crowley, forcing his hands to not tremble, shook Gabriel's hand and then pulled Eden into a tight hug. "I'm very happy for you Queenie….." But it felt like his heart was being ripped from his chest.

Chapter 29

Almost immediately Eden began to pack her things. Aziraphale and Crowley helped of course, but it was quite difficult. "Have you and Gabriel decided where your belongings are going to go?" Aziraphale asked as he watched Eden carefully wrap her Doctor Who figures in newspaper and place them in a box. "Not yet. We'll figure that out when I get settled at the Falls…Gabriel doesn't really have much stuff. Just clothes." Eden grinned, "Not that I'm complaining."

Crowley glanced at the dark blue TARDIS door. "What about your door Queenie? You've had it since you were seven."

Eden nodded. "Yeah definitely. Gabriel said I can bring it and we can use it for his…I mean our bedroom." Eden blushed.

"What do you mean, "Our bedroom?" Crowley asked, immediately not liking where this is going. "We'll, we're going to be sharing a bedroom of course. That's why he said I could bring my door so I could feel more at home. And he even wants me to decorate his room, I mean our room with my glow in the dark stars…." Crowley paled as a knock at the door was heard. "That's Gabe right now!" The Archangel insisted that he come and help Eden pack. "Crowley calm down." Aziraphale said when he saw his husband clenching his fist. "He has no ill intentions towards her."

"Grrrr." Crowley growled. "How can you be so okay with this angel?"

Aziraphale replied, his voice tight, "Because for a while I thought she would never get to experience the next chapter of her life. For so long despite how hard she fought I thought we would still lose her Crowley….and I feel the same for Gabriel. He has come so far and he loves her so much. But more importantly she is grown up and she needs to make her own decisions and live her own life. And it's our job to support her." Aziraphale then left the room to greet Gabriel leaving Crowley alone.

Chapter 30

"Don't worry Samwise, Gabriel is going to snap your stable in a nice spot next to the Falls. He already showed me around. It's very nice with plenty of places for you to graze and there are still lots of trails where I can ride you." Eden explained as she brushed his silvery mane. She had taken Samwise outside for a quick grooming so Gabriel could move Samwise's stable to its new location. The Archangel snapped his fingers and the stable disappeared.

Samwise huffed nervously. "Don't worry sweetie. We're going to walk you to your new home, Gabriel knows that you wouldn't like to be poofed."

Chapter 31 "Crowley." Aziraphale said when he found his husband sitting on Eden's bed. "I'm sure Eden would like it if you helped a bit more than just sitting there like a bump on a log." Everyone had been helping with packing Eden's belongings. But Crowley had just stopped helping and glumly sat on the bed. Star had seemed to notice his sadness and had her head on his lap.

"Gee I'd love to, but she can't seem to keep her eyes off of that Archangel."

Aziraphale sat on the bed next to Crowley. "Don't be like that." "I know you are acting like this because you have been dreading this….when you should have been anticipating it. Yes, I know this is difficult. She's grown up so quickly and she's gone through so much…..but Crowley, she will never stop being our daughter and we will never stop being her fathers." Aziraphale pecked him on the cheek.

"Mnh." Crowley huffed as he lay his head on Aziraphale's shoulder.

"Now, Gabriel just miracled Samwise's stable to the Falls and Eden asked me to come fetch you and Star so we can join them and get the animals settled into their new home."

"Okay Angel."

Chapter 32

The family and the animals walked on the dirt path quietly. "Daddy." said Eden.

"Yes Queenie." Crowley said.

"I don't want you to worry. I'm going to still be working with Papa at the shop. Things aren't going to change that much."

Oh Queenie everything is changing. Crowley thought.

"I'm happy to hear that my darling."

"But…" Crowley began. "Why don't we have a nice family dinner before you move in?"

Eden smiled. "That does sound nice. What are you two going to do with my old room?"

Crowley and Aziraphale shared a glance. The room was already empty except for the bed.

"It's going to be another spare room. For you and Gabriel whenever you two want to stay over." Aziraphale answered.

Chapter 33

Aziraphale and Crowley were sitting on Eden's bed again, clasping each other's hands tightly.

"It went by so fast." Aziraphale rasped.

"Much too fast." Crowley sniffed.

The memories filled their minds, both good and bad, and the tears fell.

"Daddy? Papa?" Eden popped her head into the room. Since her TARDIS door was gone, she easily heard the crying.

They had less than an hour to get ready and walk to the Falls and have a celebration meal for her and Gabriel to celebrate their new chapter together. Seeing her parents crying, she dashed into the room and knelt in front of her parents.

"Little One." Aziraphale replied, "We just can't believe that you're all grown up."

"Queenie." Crowley said after a few moments of weeping quietly. "I'm going to miss seeing you every morning and making you breakfast, and telling you goodnight…."

Before either of them could say anything more, Eden yanked them both into a hug. "I'll miss that too…"

Chapter 34

Gabriel stood in the doorway and watched Eden bid her parents goodbye. They all had made dinner together and once they all finished their meal the four sat and spent some time together in the family room for a bit before the late hour finally approached.

"You'll call if you need help with any of the unpacking?" Aziraphale asked as he ran his hand through Eden's wild curls. "Yes Papa. I will." They were getting teary eyed again.

"And you make sure that Archangel feeds you. Properly." Crowley added. "Daddy, you don't need to worry about that. Gabe takes good care of me. Although to be fair I could do with a little less feeding." Eden chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.

"Nonsense." Crowley huffed. "There's nothing wrong with being well fed."

Crowley wanted to say so much more. He wanted to remind her of the "Twelve Inches" rule. And forbid her from going anywhere near the Archangel's bedroom but he bit his lip. "I love you so much my Eden, more than you’ll ever know." Crowley then turned to the Archangel.

"Take care of my little girl." The demon's amber orange eyes, usually sharp with suspicion, were now round with sadness and wariness.

Chapter 35

"Of course I will Crowley." Gabriel replied as Eden and her parents broke apart.

"Once you two get settled, give us a ring and we'll get you back onto the old schedule." All were looking forward to that at least. The routine would be back to normal and they would be back to seeing each other every day.

"Okay Papa."

"Are you okay Eden?" The Archangel instinctively wrapped his arms around her.

"I knew this was going to be hard….but not this hard."

"If you want to wait to move in together, we can wait if you want more time…"

Eden shook her head. "No. I want this. I want us." She buried her face in Gabriel's warm chest. "I just need a moment.

Once Eden regained her composure, she and Gabriel walked back into their cottage, did the dishes and went upstairs.

The two of them were now in the hallway, standing outside the Archangel's bedroom. "Er…" Gabriel began awkwardly. "I have the guest room prepared for you. I know that most couples usually share the same sleeping quarters…but I know that this is a big change for you…"

"I want to sleep with you Gabe." Eden answered without hesitating. "I don't want to be alone, and I don't want you to be alone anymore."

"Are you sure Edie?" Eden nodded. "Yes Gabe. A nice, long, uninterrupted cuddle is long overdue. Let me change into my jammies and unpack my Doctor Who blanket."

Chapter 36

Birdsong and warm sunshine woke Eden as it trickled in through the open bedroom window. Eden sat up and rubbed her eyes. "Good morning Edie." Gabriel walked in the room with a tray, a freshly made Full English Breakfast filled the room with its delicious smell. "Oh Gabriel you shouldn't have!" Eden said as Gabriel popped the tray's legs out and set it over Eden's lap.

"I've waited a long time for this Eden, I hope you like it." Gabriel kissed her scarred cheek.

"Aren't you hungry?" Eden asked. "You need to eat too." "I had some cereal. I'll be okay." Gabriel reassured. "Now eat up before it gets cold Edie."

"Pfft." Eden scoffed. "Cereal isn't a proper breakfast. Share this with me? Please? My handsome, lovely, gorgeous Archangel?" The pupils in Eden's crystal blue eyes dilated, making them look like fat ovals. It made her look adorable. "If you insist my love." Gabriel rasped. He couldn't resist that puppy dog look.

As the two of them finished their breakfast, Eden said, "You're just as good a cook as my Papa….and my Daddy." Both were excellent cooks.

Gabriel wiped his face with a napkin and replied. "They taught me a lot during your recovery, I'm glad I can finally cook for you." They clasped each other's hands tightly for a moment. "Can I help you cook? I did it with Papa…I would like to help you…"

"Of course Edie, whatever you want to do to make this transition easier for you. Archangel Falls is your home now." Gabriel replied as the two of them assumed the familiar position of last night's cuddle.

"No." Eden corrected with a smile. "Our home."

Chapter 37

"Why can't I put the glow stars on the ceiling?" Eden asked as she held onto the ladder. Gabriel had insisted that he would do it. "I don't want you to risk hurting yourself Eden."

They had finished unpacking and rearranging the Falls. They were working on putting the stars on the ceiling and then the TARDIS door would replace the current bedroom door.

Chapter 38 Aziraphale had been looking through the photo albums while Crowley would sit on the porch and gaze at the now empty spot where Eden's TARDIS had been.

Aziraphale jumped when the telephone rang.

Chapter 39 Hastur and Sandalphon shook hands, their faces lightning up with wicked grins. The time to strike was finally here. Two glowing yellow eyes peered over Hastur's shoulder. The beast growled, anxious to taste blood.

"Lead the way Sandalphon."

Chapter 40 To the delight of Aziraphale and Crowley, Eden, accompanied by Gabriel of course, got back into the old routine very quickly and she and Aziraphale resumed their work at the shop, and Aziraphale was overjoyed to be chosen by Eden to be the wedding planner.

So in-between working at the shop, plans for the wedding were officially underway.

Chapter 41

Gabriel rifled through the pictures and photos that lay out in front of him on Aziraphale's desk. "I would like the blue hydrangea." Gabriel said without hesitating.

"And I want purple roses." Eden said.

As Crowley jotted down the flowers the couple wanted, Aziraphale snapped his fingers and a myriad of cake slices appeared throughout the shop. "Now, I want you two to try these cakes, I miracled every flavor known to man, and most are replicas from your favorite bakery Little One."

Eden grabbed Gabriel and dragged him to the nearest plate. "Uh Papa, I love every bakery…in the world…"

Aziraphale grinned as Gabriel, who had still many more foods, including sweets to try, took a spoonful of a red velvet cake, courtesy of Eden, and wanted another bite.

"Cutter and Squidge." Aziraphale replied.

"Oh yes, that is my favorite." Eden said as she let Gabriel finish off the red velvet.

"Now, I'm more than willing to bake your wedding cake myself…"

"No Papa, that's too much for you, you're already doing enough." Eden grabbed a slice of chocolate lava cake and handed it to Gabriel.

"Daddy, where are we going to get the flowers?"

Crowley shrugged. "Our garden of course. We've always got blue hydrangeas….you remember…" Eden nodded. The pale blue flowers were among the flowers that sat on her windowsill during her year long recovery.

"And I know just where to get purple rose seeds, and a quick miracle will have them fully grown before you know it."

Chapter 42

"Ugh…never let me eat that much again." Gabriel groaned. He and Eden were sitting on their couch, exhausted from the day's festivities.

"Aww, do you have a stomach ache my angel?" Eden cooed rubbing Gabriel's stomach. "No..er..I've just never been this full before…" Gabriel was blushing furiously now.

"Don't worry, you'll feel better in a bit." Mesmerized by her serpentine blue gaze, his head lay against her soft bosom and he immediately felt sleep tugging his eyelids shut.

"What are you doing Eden?" Gabriel murmured.

"I want you to sleep, of course. It helps to sleep when you have a full tummy, now stop talking and may you dream of whatever you like best." Gabriel melted against Eden's soft body, wrapping his arms around her as Eden lay down flat on her back so the two of them would be more comfortable. After a moment of silence, Eden murmured, "Hey Gabe, why did you pick blue hydrangeas?" Gabriel smiled, his eyes still closed, "They remind me of your eyes."

"Heh. That's why I picked purple roses…" Gabriel clasped Eden's hand and kissed it, briefly admiring the ring on her finger. "I love you." He rasped.

"I love you too." Eden replied as sleep finally claimed them.

Chapter 43

"We want to get married at St James Park." Eden said. She and Gabriel were having dinner with Eden's parents at South Downs, to discuss wedding plans and to spend time together.

"Really sweetpea?" Crowley asked.

Eden nodded as Gabriel stepped in, "And have the reception here, if you don't mind."

"Oh of course!" Aziraphale gushed. Gabriel and Eden made it clear that they wanted a simple, yet elegant ceremony, with only loved ones in attendance.

"Why the park?" Crowley asked.

Gabriel smiled as he glanced at Eden, who left to fetch his desert. "That's where I met my Edie."

"Papa is going to officiate," Eden said as she returned with two plates of key lime pie, "My friends Bella, Nina, Peggy and Soairse will be my bridesmaids, Shadwell will be Gabe's best man….I'm so excited!"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves just yet." Aziraphale said. "We still need to pick out your dress, and you need to decide on what music you want to have playing throughout…"

"I know Papa I'm just excited…"

"And," Crowley cut in, "Gabriel needs to look into getting a car."

"Daddy we don't need a car." Eden replied, "We got here just fine with the TARDIS." It was perfect for when they didn't want to take the ten minute walk to South Downs.

"Trust me, there will come a time when he'll need it." Crowley said solemnly. Gabriel nodded, "Actually, a car sounds like a good idea. I can't take the TARDIS directly into Soho to see the tailor."

"Good point." Eden agreed.

Chapter 44

Hastur, Sandalphon and the hulking beast peered through the foliage and glared at the cottage. "Are they all there?" Hastur demanded. The creature sniffed the air and chuffed. "Yes….I want the Abomination…."

"You'll get what was promised when the time is right." Hastur spat' he turned sharply to Sandalphon, "Are the others in place?"

"Of course they are." Sandalphon replied, smug, taking great pleasure in this whole ordeal.

Hastur bared his teeth and spat. "Get them."

Chapter 45

Eden and Crowley were doing the dishes while Gabriel and Aziraphale were still talking about wedding plans, the menu specifically. "Fish N Chips!" Eden had squealed, making everyone laugh.

But everything stopped when a clawed paw crashed through the kitchen window and slashed Eden's shoulder….

Eden's head collided with the kitchen floor hard, she screamed in pain and in horror. The yellow, furious eyes of Aamon stared down at her.

"N-No…" Eden whimpered.

Aamon's razor sharp beak twisted into a smile, revealing his long yellow fangs.

"Yes." His teeth flew towards her throat….

And to Eden's surprise, Aamon suddenly reared up and roared in pain.

Crowley had grabbed a steak knife and thrust it in Aamon's furry shoulder. "Aziraphale! Gabriel!" Crowley barked, but the two angels were already at his side, helping him support Eden, who had blood gushing from her shoulder.

"Crowley she's hurt!" Aziraphale exclaimed, placing a hand over the deep gash, he tried to heal it but he had to duck from Aamon's flailing tail.

"The TARDIS!" Gabriel said as he helped Aziraphale carry Eden out of the kitchen. Eden was barely conscious and he was helping Aziraphale support her weight. "We should be safe in there!"

Crowley nodded, his mind spinning. How did Aamon get past the protection wards….? Not now Crowley! Crowley reached into Eden's pant pocket and with a jolt of relief, pulled out Eden's sonic screwdriver. He pressed the button and a thin beam of blue flame shot out. "Clever girl."

Chapter 46 Eden moaned as Aziraphale and Gabriel hauled her over the soft green grass, bright red droplets splashing on the green.

Crowley covered the back, brandishing the sonic, the soft humming noise almost drowned out by Aamon thrashing about in the cottage.

Pain burned fiery hot in Eden's shoulder. Aziraphale had to grit his teeth and push through it, they were nearly there….

A roar erupted from the cottage as Aamon burst through the same window, ignoring the cuts that marred his body as he gave chase.

Gabriel finally reached the TARDIS, he grabbed the silver key that he was wearing around his neck and unlocked the door, quickly hauling Eden inside.

Crowley slammed the twin doors shut and switched the sonic off.

"Crowley, I need your jacket!" Aziraphale said. Crowley dashed to his husband's side, already peeling off his black jacket.

Aziraphale and Gabriel had laid Eden down on the TARDIS floor, but Gabriel cradled her, not wanting her to be uncomfortable as Aziraphale quickly yanked off his coat and draped it over Eden, who was now shivering.

"I'm here Aziraphale." Crowley said as he quickly bunched up his jacket and handed it to Gabriel, who used it to cushion Eden's head.

Crowley and Gabriel watched anxiously as Aziraphale placed a hand over the deep, still bleeding gash in Eden's shoulder, and both sighed in relief when the gash disappeared.

"She'll be all right now." Aziraphale rasped. "But she will need rest due to the blood loss."

The trio glanced at the twin doors, the sound of Aamon snarling could be heard.

Chapter 47

Eden's head was throbbed with pain. "Ow." She groaned.

Eden's eyes flew open at the sound of Gabriel's voice. "Eden, are you okay?"

"Gabriel…" Eden tried to sit up but Gabriel tried to stop her. "You shouldn't move." Eden shrugged him off as her Papa entered her line of vision. "Little One, are you alright? Are you hurt anywhere else?"

"I don't think so…but my head hurts." Aziraphale kissed her forehead and the pain went away.

Eden glanced down at the blood soaked coat draped over her. "Talk to us Queenie." Crowley asked, concerned. Eden's skin was pale due to blood loss.

"How long have we been in here?" Eden rasped.

"Twenty minutes…" Crowley began but stopped at the strange look in Eden's eyes. "Here, I borrowed your sonic. Clever idea, putting that blue fire of yours in it, I'd like to know how you did it…."

Eden crumpled in Gabriel's arms. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. This is all my fault…." Aziraphale and Crowley gasped in horror.

"Eden no don't say that-" Gabriel began but stopped when everything started to shake. "What's happening?" Gabriel gasped, holding Eden tighter to him. A loud cracking sound filled their eardrums.

"Shit!" Crowley cursed. "Everyone hang on!" Crowley grabbed Aziraphale, Gabriel and Eden, holding them tightly as the TARDIS fell down the newly formed chasm.

The End ?

#Good Omens #Goodomensprime #Goodomensseason2 #Goodomens2 #Aziraphale #Crowley #David Tennant #Michael Sheen #Archangel Gabriel #Jonhamm #Eden #Ineffable #ineffable husbands #Ineffable Family #ineffable fandom #Neil Gaiman #Terry Pratchett #Bad Omens #Doctor Who #TARDIS #novel #good omens

[on-stardust-wings]

I was thinking about Crowley and food earlier. There's this widespread fanon trope that (show) Crowley doesn't actually eat, he just tags along to restaurants to watch Aziraphale eat, and occasionally orders dessert to also give to Aziraphale. I think it stems from the fact that we don't actually see Crowley eat on screen. It's kinda funny, so nothing really wrong with this trope.

But, I don't think what we see on screen is all that telling, actually? Book! Crowley keeps gourmet food in his fridge, and likes to have a good nap after a large meal. So, at least Book! Crowley likes to eat sometimes, and I don't feel like Show! Crowley is that much a different character.

He obviously isn't near as enthusiastic about food as Aziraphale (and honestly, that level of bliss reached through food would be difficult to match for anyone who isn't Aziraphale). He enjoys watching Aziraphale eat because Aziraphale loves food and it makes him happy and Crowley likes to watch him be happy. But if he wouldn't enjoy food himself in his own way, their lunch and dinner outings would be a bit of a weird choice for a shared activity. (It also implies Aziraphale would know and fully endorse that Crowley's only enjoyment gained from their lunches is watching him, which doesn't really sound like it would be true at least for their earlier acquaintance.)

No, I think it's something else. What we see on screen is Crowley stressed to his worst. It's Crowley strung like a bow, to near breaking.

You see enough articles about stress eating, about eating as a form of comfort to cope with your problems. You read less about the opposite, about the type of people who can't swallow anything when they're stressed out. (Probably because it doesn't end with a gathering of extra pounds around the waist... But as one of the people who can't eat when stressed, let me assure you that it's a real thing and that it's as much a problem as eating too much when you're upset, because neither is healthy.)

They're both really stressed out during the show. The End of the World is upon them. The first time we see them have lunch, Crowley has just delivered the Antichrist and the sheer horror of it is still really fresh. He tempts Aziraphale to lunch to keep him company, so he can continue to try and convince him to agree to his plan to raise Warlock together. It's a means to an end as much as a social activity they shared before that's a safe fallback at that moment. But would you feel like eating if you'd just brought about the End of Everything? I certainly wouldn't.

The other times we see them eat together are the very stressed last week of the world, where again, Crowley is probably just far too stressed to eat, and the Ritz after, where he's tired and relieved and looks actually rather overwhelmed, if not entirely unpleasantly so. (Also, their table is very full there, so maybe it's not all for Aziraphale to eat.)

I kinda want to see the fics where after everything calms down and they're settled in their new lives, they go out and have lunch or dinner and Crowley actually eats all his share of their order, and that's when Aziraphale knows he's fine again.

#might have to write it #as if that list wasn't long enough as is #I'll never finish anything if this keeps up #ah well #good omens #good omens headcanon #crowley #aziraphale #food #p+a

[queeenpersephone]

Hello! I’d love to see what you have written for the Good Omens/Doctor Who story! ☺️

yay! okay this is literally just copy/pasted from my doc for this fic (about 2k), so the plot probably won’t be obvious but hopefully it’s still enjoyable to read! i just don’t think i’m ever gonna finish it because i never finished good omens

without further ado...

take it up with the badlands

summary: If he wants her to stay, he’ll have to fight those who shaped the universe. And they could, he knows. He is an immortal demon, no longer bent to the will of heaven or hell. She is the Bad Wolf, Goddess of Time and Space, capable of feats even he can barely imagine. That’s not even in question. The question is: would she ever actually want to stay with him?

Deep down, Crowley knows the answer. And it’s not a happy one. 

The white haired man looks her up and down, a mask of evaluation on his face, before grimacing in distaste. “Oh, I suppose I know why you’re here,” he announces when he has finished deducing. “Wish you people would leave him alone,” he adds under his breath.

Rose just smiles, playing along. Maybe the man this man speaks of is someone who can help her - the reason Bad Wolf sent her here. “Sorry, can I just wait for him here, then?” She twists one of the hoops in her ears, giving the bookseller a bright grin.

Instead of looking reassured, the gentleman looks even more unsettled. 

-

“I've been working on this top secret project for years now,” she tells them. “The Dimension Cannon - supposed to get me back to my proper universe. Only, someone noticed I wasn’t aging that quick, so they somehow got my blood from my files and ran some tests. Still don’t know what they found, but a couple days later my stepdad was deposed. He only had the resources to get my mum and my little brother to a safe house before they killed him.” She swallows hard. “I was tortured for about four months.”

Aziraphale murmurs a sympathetic “oh dear!” but makes no move to comfort her. Crowley tries to refrain from rolling his eyes: angels have a great sense of empathy, but really know shit about showing it.

“Anyway, I escaped. Been on the run for a month or so - saw something in your window that made me think this was a safe place.” Something in her eyes tells Crowley that she won’t tell them what it was, not yet. “I figure something about this universe makes me age slower, but they thought I was alien. After all the crazy shit that’s happened in the last decade, they felt betrayed, I guess.”

Crowley shrugs. “You are, though.”

Rose starts. “What?”

“You’re an alien,” Crowley clarifies unhelpfully.

Aziraphale takes over. “What Crowley is trying to say, my dear, is that you are neither angel nor demon, but you are an immortal. Quite a powerful one, I sense.”

Rose’s jaw nearly hits the floor. 

-

“Well, love,” Crowley drawls, “seeing as you’re probably going to be here awhile, you might as well come for drinks.” He drapes a loose arm over her shoulder, leading her out the door as Aziraphale closes up shop behind them.

“Are you tempting right now?” Rose teases, but he can see the shock and pain that still hide behind those golden eyes. Crowley’s never had mortal attachments, and he’s not the type to be empathetic, but he still acknowledges that it must be difficult. He’s only known this newly immortal human for an hour, but he can already see how strong she is. “‘Cause I’d rather have a friend,” she admits.

Crowley, thankfully, is saved from responding by Aziraphale’s gentle hand on Rose’s shoulder. “Ah, my dear, I’m quite sure we’ll get along splendidly! My demon friend here is slower to trust, but he’ll come around.”

“Oi, right here,” Crowley grumbles, but he manages a soft smirk at Rose as they stride off to their favorite bar. He’ll get to the bottom of this anomaly if it kills him. 

-

To Crowley, Rose is a walking contradiction.

She has a dark sense of humor and a penchant for danger and trouble, with a generally mischievous air that Crowley has always associated with demons. Yet, her staunch sense of right and wrong and blinding optimism could only belong to an angel. Well, Aziraphale, at least. The rest of the lot are right bastards. 

And she’s so far out of the rest of the humans’ league that she might as well be in another universe.

From one, Crowley mentally corrects. Then he wonders when this little goddess-human prototype began to take up so much space in his conscious thought. The space usually reserved for good tea and terrorizing plants and tight jeans - now filled up with thoughts about Rose Tyler’s bright laugh and bad jokes and uncertain fate. 

-

“There’s something you’re not telling us, love,” Crowley observes.

“Yeah,” she admits, a soft blush blooming on her cheeks. “Well, I guess it doesn’t matter, does it? I trust you.” Crowley makes an impatient shooing motion with his hands. “Yeah, okay, so in my universe, I sort of absorbed the time vortex? Long story short, I controlled all of Time for a few minutes - the Doctor said I would’ve burned, but he took it out of me.” Rose shrugs. “Anyway, the torture I went through.. that’s how I discovered I can kinda… control it, I guess.”

“Control it?” Crowley leans forward into her space, taking his hands out of his pockets.

Rose gestures around. “It’d be easier if I showed you - Aziraphale, do you have anything in the shop you’re not attached to?”

Crowley nearly loses it at his friend’s offended and very concerned expression. Oh, this girl is only proving herself to be more and more precious. 

-

“You’re God, huh?” Rose knows, gazing intently at the shadowy figure in the corner of her dream.

The figure straightens, but Rose still can’t make out any singular feature. It’s a woman, surely, but nothing else. “Bad Wolf, you do not belong in this universe,” God says, and Rose rolls her eyes.

“Took ya kind of long to figure that out, yeah?” 

God shrugs. “We couldn’t decide where you fit in with the Plan. And now We’ve decided you don’t fit, so We are sending you back.”

Rose's heart jumps at these words. “Back?” she stutters, “to the Doctor?”

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

Rose squints at Her. “You’re not doing it out of the kindness of your heart though, are ya?” God is silent, and then Rose knows. “You’re afraid,” she realizes. “You’re afraid of the Big Bad Wolf.”

“We have no fear,” God says, but it is like She is shouting in Rose’s head.

Rose’s eyes flash gold. “I take your atoms…”

“ENOUGH.” 

Rose wakes sweaty and exhilarated to the sweetest sound she has ever heard. To the sound of the TARDIS. 

-

Crowley takes one look at the Doctor and the way he holds Rose’s hand, keeping her slightly behind him in a completely unnecessary protective stance that fires up Crowley’s indignation - he left her, he left her, he has no right to protect her - before shoving him up against the wall in a chokehold. If Rose hadn’t been panicking about the possibility of them killing each other, she would probably be a little turned on. The man she’s loved for years and the demon that made her smile again, both with the body and face of her dreams? It’s probably a good thing she’d only ever think about that possibility in hindsight. 

“I fell,” Crowley growls, “through ash and fire. All for pride. Rose Tyler, all annoyingly empathetic and stupidly optimistic and fucking brilliant that she is - she helped me find peace. And that makes things very simple. If you hurt her, if she feels one ounce of pain that you had it in your power to prevent, I will fall to God’s feet and beg forgiveness for my sins just to travel between universes and rain hellfire down upon you.” His words have the same, ancient feel to them as the Doctor’s, the same cadence as holy scripture, as absolute truth, and Rose shivers. His voice is so low and heated that when she steps close between them and lays a hand on his chest to push him off the Doctor, even she can barely hear it. “And I’m quite good at that,” he adds, smirking down at Rose, who shakes her head at him with a soft smile on her face. 

“It’s been a ride, gentlemen,” Rose says, sparing Aziraphale a friendly nod before gazing up at Crowley. “Thank you.” She rubs the fabric of the henley over Crowley’s heart, and he groans in frustration.

“C’mon, love,” he tries, “look at him! I’m sure I can give you at least twice as many orgasms.” Rose giggles, used to Crowley’s brand of humor, but doesn’t miss the sharp noise that the Doctor makes behind her. “I’ll make you see heaven,” he promises, but she can tell by his eyes that he already knows her answer.

The Doctor moves up behind her, twining an arm around her and pressing his palm to her stomach. “And with me, she’ll see stars,” his voice is low and dark, and Rose knows that they need to get onto the TARDIS before a full out brawl occurs in front of her. 

So she takes the Doctor’s hand from her stomach, pressing a kiss to the back of it before shooing him back to the TARDIS. He goes, but he watches Crowley with sharp eyes.

“You’re better than you believe, yeah?” she whispers to the demon in front of her, cupping his cheek gently. “If I was meant to be here, in this universe, I’d be the one to show it to you. So you just gotta get back out there and find this universe’s match for you. I know they’re out there.” Her eyes dart to Aziraphale for a moment, wondering if something might eventually come from that. There’s history there, and they have the rest of eternity to figure it out. “Rely on your best friend, yeah?” She adds, wondering if a hint could turn into a catalyst.

“Rose-” Crowley begins hoarsely, before Rose dives her fingers into his ginger hair and pulls his lips down to meet hers. 

It’s a soft, chaste peck, nothing like that drunken night, but the possibilities hit them both like a freight train. It’s not hard to imagine their endless days: going for drinks with Aziraphale, lounging at his bookshop, Rose following his angry rants at his plants with a soft touch to their leaves, Crowley tempting ordinary humans into sin and Rose tempting Crowley into bed. In fact, it’s easy, and when Rose feels the hint of tears at the corners of her eyes, she pulls away. “Bye, love,” she murmurs, borrowing his nickname before giving him a quick squeeze. His arms don’t have time to come around her before she is walking back to the Doctor, who brushes his lips against her forehead before she walks past him and into the TARDIS. 

Crowley ignores the lump in his throat, but before he can walk away, a low tenor stops him. 

“I’m the last of my kind,” the Doctor is saying, eyes dark and intent. “I’m the killer of my kind. I’ve spent my life trying to do the best thing for the universe, but rest assured, I’ll now be doing the best thing for Rose. Forever.”

Crowley nods in agreement with this promise, before letting a smile quirk at his lips. “Have you considered whether she’ll let you?” He asks.

The Doctor grins full on at this. “Oh,” he says, stepping into his transdimensional blue box. “I can see why she liked you.”

With a groan and wheeze, the Bad Wolf disappears from this universe. God is satisfied, but Crowley sets out to get really, really drunk.

He won’t stop living, though, he refuses to disappoint his Rose like that. No, he’ll find his match.

After a few bottles of Scotch. 

-

“Did you love him?” The Doctor asks quietly, weeks later, when they have regained some sense of stability.

If she had been the same person she was when she started traveling with him, she might’ve lied. Been afraid to disturb the peace, the delicate tightrope that she and the Doctor always seem to balance on. But now, Rose is different. She understands relationships, understands love and trust and commitment, a little better. She knows the Doctor would never leave her, never let her leave unless he was absolutely sure it would truly make her happy. They’ve already hashed it all out, amongst tears and rage and late night nibbles, sitting at the foot of the TARDIS’ doors and dangling their feet into the cosmos. After everything they’ve been through, honesty comes easy.

“I could’ve,” she admits. She saves the waxing poetic, the memories of the dark quips and burning hugs and blunt speech, for their next visit with Jack. She’ll be honest with the Doctor, but she won’t set out to hurt him. “He’s a good man- demon, I mean,” she corrects. “Misunderstood and angry at the universe. He deserves a love that didn’t already promise someone else forever.” The Doctor reaches over, twining their fingers together. “And I’d never regret that promise, yeah?”

“Good,” the Doctor whispers, tugging her close. “Cause that’s how long you’re gonna stay with me.”

#crowley x rose #rose x crowley #rose x doctor #dw fic #good omens fic #dw #good omens #rose tyler #crowley #i'd love to finish this someday #bc i love a little bit of a darker ten #and i love the crowley rose dynamic #and the scene with her and god #BUT #clearly that's not happening soon lmao #hope it was fun to read anyways!

[lady-divine-writes]

Good Omens - Dodge and Parry (Rated NC17)

Summary: Crowley discovers that he is rather enamored of his angel's bruises ... especially the ones that go farther than skin deep. (2006 words)

Notes: I wrote this for Kinktober 2020, the prompt 'bruises'. So I was going to write a piece about bruise worship, which this sort of is, but it went much deeper. I will try to come up with something kinkier and more fun another time XD

Read on AO3.

“How does that feel, angel?” Crowley asks, soaking his washcloth completely, then wringing it out over Aziraphale’s scalp. “Too hot? Too cold?”

“Neither.” Aziraphale hums happily with eyes shut. “It’s perfect. Sublime, I should say. Like soaking in a nice, warm cup of tea.”

“We’ve added enough dried flowers and wot not that you could just be,” Crowley comments, swiping a hand through the water, swatting at a cluster of rose petals, lavender, sweet jasmine, and chamomile.

“Hmm. Then you could drink me,” Aziraphale says, sinking deeper into the steaming water.

“Ngk … I … I could …” Crowley stumbles, but he recovers, a triumph since that remark from his angel almost had him choking on his tongue. “But let’s save the sweet stuff for later, eh? We’ve gotta get you fixed up.”

“Yes … let’s. Then … I can do you …” Aziraphale mumbles, drifting off, his cheeks rosy from the warmth and the company. Crowley soaps up his cloth and runs it over Aziraphale’s arm, sliding past a mark that has blossomed considerably since he last saw it. He runs the cloth over it again and it seems to darken, the cream-colored suds rinsing into cloudy water and revealing a plethora of purples swirled together, related to one another by hues, tiny freckles sprouting along the fringe like shy violets.

A galaxy of them really.

Crowley isn’t normally fond of scars and bruises, especially on his angel. Aziraphale bears many types of blacks and blues, with varied stories behind them. Older scars on Aziraphale’s corporation - ones following mortal paths and having faded to silver - come by way of other angels who delight in his suffering. Crowley has seen every one of those, categorized their existence, set their placements to memory. A touch of his fingertips tells him when they were created … and by whom.

Crowley has gathered a list of enemies on his angel’s behalf, and that list is long.

Very long.

Not all of angel’s bruises are visible to the naked, mortal eye, but they’ve dimmed his aura considerably.

Crowley never thought the humans’ quarantine would get to Aziraphale. Being locked inside, forbidden to go out and socialize, leaving him heaps of time to read his books, seemed like a dream come true. With no one coming into his shop to browse, there was nothing keeping him from doing his crossword puzzles till his heart’s content. And it seemed that way for the first few months.

But it didn’t stay that way.

More and more, Crowley would catch his angel sitting in a chair by the window, staring up at the sky, sighing deeply as if for a long lost love, which seemed utterly preposterous to Crowley since every book Aziraphale could ever want lay in a stack beside him. Aside from that, he had his music. And cake! Why, they’d been baking cake every single day! So much cake, in fact, that any poor soul who so much as poked their head out of their door received a cardboard baker’s box packed to bursting with confections, passed along at a socially safe distance courtesy of a long, wooden shepherd’s crook.

And thanks to a wonderful service with a mildly vulgar name, whenever Aziraphale so desired, a delivery person dropped by with a box of his favorite sushi, which Crowley generously tipped for.

But Aziraphale still wasn’t happy. And he was becoming less happy by the day.

Something had changed.

He mentioned several times to Crowley that he felt hemmed in; that lately, being locked inside made it difficult for him to breathe. He longed to walk through the park, soak in the sunshine (when it made itself available), and feed the ducks again.

Crowley didn’t understand it. Aziraphale despised exercise to such a degree that if he sat at Crowley’s kitchen table, preparing to sup, and discovered that he’d left the butter in the fridge, he’d rather do without then to get up and fetch it.

It wasn’t until days later, when Crowley found a stack of newspaper clippings hiding underneath Aziraphale’s ledger, that he began to catch on:

Covid cases increase rapidly as next steps planned

'Tier Three' Covid restrictions in announcement on Monday

More than 80% of positive UK cases in study had no core symptoms

It wasn’t the toll quarantine was taking on Aziraphale. It was the toll this disease that caused the need for a quarantine was taking on the humans he was so fond of. That time spent staring at the sky, Aziraphale spent praying, wondering why the Almighty would let this continue, let so many of Her beloveds die and for what?

From the expression on his angel’s face after, Crowley assumed he got no answers.

It was like the Ark all over again, only without the refreshing rain, and with no rainbow in sight.

Determined to take his mind off of it, Crowley arranged a private movie marathon for his angel at his flat. They sat on his sofa with homemade snacks and watched some old Errol Flynn movies. And it worked! After a while, Crowley started watching Aziraphale more than the film, his angel that much more entertaining. Aziraphale had started the way he watched every movie - sitting primly upright, hands folded in his lap, eyes glued to the screen. But over time, he’d started to inch forward, lean in, muscles twitching to recreate the fight scenes - the swipes of a sword, the parries, his feet shuffling enthusiastically in place to mimic the steps of the actors’ retreats like they were performing a gavotte.

Encouraged that this was a way to break through Aziraphale’s melancholy, Crowley recommended they dig out the old fencing foils and have at it, sans protective gear in honor of old Errol. Besides, they didn’t need it.

“Oh! No, no, no!” Aziraphale argued at first, even with a smile on his lips. “I couldn’t! It’s been so long!”

“Nonsense!” Crowley retorted, heading for his closet. “You were an expert swordsman centuries ago. I’m sure you’ll do wonderfully now. It’s like riding a bicycle.”

“And how’s that, dear?”

“Once you fall off, you get right back on.” Crowley tossed Aziraphale a foil, which he caught without looking, and Crowley smirked knowingly.

Crowley didn’t give Aziraphale a chance to back out, didn’t salute him like at the beginning of an official duel. Crowley came at him like a buccaneer, crowing and catching Aziraphale off-guard. But Aziraphale fought back. He wasn’t upset by Crowley’s abrupt start. On the contrary. He laughed at Crowley’s antics, especially when he tried to evade by climbing over the sofa, and then onto an end table. His joy was infectious. It rang through Crowley’s flat, made the plants (which had initially recoiled at the sound of clashing metal) stand straighter, wave their leaves and cheer. It rose up inside Crowley as if the joy were his own, making him laugh, too.

Laugh till he snorted, which he hadn’t done in a long time.

But it didn’t last as long as Crowley had hoped.

Aziraphale got lost somewhere in the fight, lost in thinking, his mind drifting in all directions while he dodged and parried by rote. His face grew tense, his expression morphing from concentration to anger … to vengeance. He went after Crowley with clouded eyes, as if everything pent up inside him - the sadness and the anxiety - had found a weak spot in Aziraphale’s armor.

And now, it was starting to break through.

Crowley didn’t know who Aziraphale saw when he looked at him. Those world leaders who didn’t take this pandemic seriously, who didn’t act quick enough, who were greedy.

Beelzebub and the Dukes of Hell, whom Aziraphale credited for the speed in which this disease took hold, and the blind, stubborn stupidity of those who refused to do their part to stop it.

Gabriel, who has long since laughed off any correspondence Aziraphale has sent him regarding the matter, rejecting the last dozen with a very snarky ‘Return to sender!’ emblazoned in gold across the envelope.

Or the Almighty, who has the power to stop this but who has refused, and doesn’t have the decency to tell him why.

Or maybe he simply saw Crowley, who treated the whole thing like a joke, not only taking a nap for the first few months but then extending it, leaving Aziraphale alone when he might have needed him most.

Aziraphale attacked, closing in on Crowley fast, fighting with more fist than blade, and Crowley defended.

They struck one another at the same time - Aziraphale bringing his wrist down on the bridge of Crowley’s nose, Crowley’s guard-covered fist coming up to block and accidentally clocking Aziraphale on the jaw.

Both stumbled back, seeing stars.

Had they been human, Crowley’s nose would have broken, and Aziraphale’s jaw would have shattered. As was, Crowley’s nose ended up a bit crooked till a minute ago when Aziraphale snapped his fingers and set it straight. Aziraphale’s jaw still sported an indigo bruise reminiscent of a mum.

“Oh … oh my dear boy! I am so sorry!” Aziraphale apologized profusely when he saw Crowley’s nose, blood pooling underneath.

“Wot?” Crowley sniffed, wiping his Cupid’s bow with the back of his hand, examining the stain left behind with swimming eyes. “Oh, this? It’s nothing. Barely a scratch. Think nothing of it.”

“But … but …” Aziraphale stuttered, on the verge of tears. He dropped his sword, almost dropped to his knees, too, but Crowley hurried forward and gathered him up, wrapped him in his arms and held him.

“It’s all right,” he whispered, hugging Aziraphale tight. “It’s going to be all right, angel.”

“Do you … do you really think so?”

“Yes,” Crowley said with a sigh. Whether he did or not didn’t actually matter. But no one, angel or human, was going to get through today and on to the next if they didn’t believe it was at least possible. Crowley had to hold Aziraphale together, even if he did it with lies. He had to keep the one angel left on earth who still cared going. “I do.”

That’s when Aziraphale’s tears began to fall.

Crowley held him.

An hour went by, and Crowley held him.

Crowley declared Aziraphale the winner, and as a reward, offered to give him a bath and miracle him healed.

But when he got his angel naked and saw the bruises glowing on his skin, he hesitated. He shouldn’t be attracted to them. He shouldn’t find them appealing. On top of being physical damage to Aziraphale’s skin, some of them were bred out of despair. They should have repulsed Crowley, but they were actually glorious, like a small corner of impressionist art brought to life and tattooed on his skin.

Because not all of these new bruises, exploding with vibrant color and depth, were bad. They happened when Aziraphale was still smiling, still laughing. When his leg banged the corner of a table during a particularly rowdy retreat. When he tried to follow Crowley vaulting over the back of the sofa, misstepped, and landed on his knee. When their foils tangled together and Crowley accidentally kicked Aziraphale in the thigh in his effort to separate them. Aziraphale had watched Crowley fly backward, land on his heel, and spin three times like a ballerina, stopping in a perfect arabesque, just to then trip over air and land in a chair. Aziraphale threw his head back and laughed so hard, he walked right into Crowley’s (blunted) sword, the flat tip leaving its circular shadow behind.

Those bruises …

Those are bruises of pleasure.

They run deeper than skin.

And Crowley is quite satisfied by that.

Crowley almost regrets his promise to rid Aziraphale of them.

But being the one who gets to heal Aziraphale is an honor all its own.

However, he realizes with a grin, there is a way to get them back.

He’ll memorize these, too. Their exact locations.

And freshen them up later with his mouth.

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #ineffable husbands #kinktober 2020 #ineffable lovers #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #aziraphale #Crowley

[sushiandstarlight]

Clearing the Air

Read this story on AO3

It had been two weeks since the world appeared to be at it’s end- and then, wasn’t.  Two weeks after they had shared a terrified bus ride, hands clasped on the seat between them.  Scared that this was the end of all things, that it was the end of them and all that they had shared.  Scared, perhaps even more so, that it may be the very beginning of all things for the two of them.  Uncertain, to put it mildly, that tomorrow may put an end to this tiny sprout of a thing.  Or, might create a world where they had to live with the consequences of the thing.  Six thousand years they had run: from their sides yes, but ultimately from this thing between them.

And then... the world didn’t end.

They had chosen this world as the place they would stand their ground and they had chosen one another- their side, their world.  They had worn each other’s skin to protect what they had- both, in the quiet tension before detainment, having thoughts that only a short time ago they’d held this hand.  That they knew the shape of it, the warmth, the rough spots, and the softness.  Feeling that connection to the other side.

There wasn’t time to discuss it and, really, that wasn’t something they did.  Drunken nights discussing flailing Kraken or dolphins [the fate thereof] or trying to figure out if ducks had ears in the park as the sun crested the trees.  Afternoons with the angel’s nose in a book and the demon gleefully stirring up trouble on his mobile.

There had been numerous times in the years spent on this world that they had gone long bouts without contact.  Early on, their meetings were purely accidental.  Or, at the very least, not planned on their own parts.  Thwarting and miracles and stirring up trouble- it was just the job.  They didn’t get a choice on where they were sent or when.  And, even afterwards, when they found they enjoyed the company they moved like chess pieces: trying to keep the air of random chance when really it was anything but.  In those times, they could go months or years without a sighting of one another.

There had always been plenty of time.  Being immortal meant time slipped along like a quiet stream.  You could take a dip and enjoy the moment, but the steady movement was really irrelevant in the long run.  The sun shining down, the same way.  It was still the same stream or light, all things considered.  Things changed, but they also stayed very much the same.

But, being reminded that that immortality was actually only at the will of some higher power or in the hands of a capricious ruling body in Her stead?  It made every handful of water, every face full of warm sunshine, feel more precious than before.  One could focus on a moment of skin on skin and fixate.  Moments could become worlds all their own.

That didn't mean it was easy to acknowledge them.  Far from it, in fact.  Because what if a moment meant more to you than it did to someone else?  A moment of connection shared in a dark, stressful time might be only that: a brief need for comfort, taken when it was needed and never sought after again.  Or, it could be more.  Something longed and hoped for- an impossibility made real, somehow.  Something forbidden and rebuked, but impossible to shake.  A slow-burning ember, just waiting to be coaxed into a roaring flame.

It had been two weeks and neither of them knew which it was to the other, only what it meant in their own heart.

Aziraphale was, he thought, a patient enough being.  He was usually content to be alone with his books: a millennia of human stories.  The stream of time could ebb and flow outside his cocoon of a bookshop and there was very little to mark it.  The thwarted apocalypse had marked it, surely, even if only because his safe place had been threatened, destroyed even, though, thankfully, he had missed the sight of it.  Even that he would eventually compartmentalize, given enough time and distance from the event.

But, that bus ride.  That moment of connection.  That hope that blew hard on the ember that had, for so long, clung to life despite his efforts to ignore it.  In another millennia, he would not forget it, regardless of whether it meant as much to both of them or not.  Only, one option would hurt more.  Who else did he have save Crowley?  Who else would he ever find?  There were no other matches- only two beings on their side.  A fact  recently acknowledged, but that was how it had always been.  He had been truly deluded to ever think otherwise.  The companionship in heaven had never warmed him the way that just sitting, side-by-side, on a park bench with Crowley had.

The slip of paper he found wedged under his shop door came as a welcome surprise.  It was clearly the demon's scrawl.  Even his penmanship, or the lack thereof, was enough to make the angel's heart flutter.  Crowley hadn't disappeared; he wasn't done with him.  Their friendship had meant more than a means to an end.  Yes, it said all of that to Aziraphale, but in context.  Context had been most of their communication over the years.  All of it, really.  Rarely had they ever spoken of the things that truly mattered in plain terms.

“The park, 11am, Tuesday. -C” was all it actually said.  What Crowley would hate to know was what Aziraphale easily detected: this was the last of several attempts to write a note.  The impressions of all the previous words left hills and valleys all over the paper.  He couldn't read them, of course, but he knew what they meant.  They meant that Crowley had been nervous about contacting him.  This wasn't an assignment.  It wasn't to discuss world-ending business.  It couldn't, at all, be written off as work-related.  Crowley wanted to see him just... because.  At the very least, he missed Aziraphale.  At the most... Well.  Aziraphale tried not to dwell too hard on the possibilities.

Crowley had missed their time together.  If that's all it was- that he got to see the demon.... That they stuck to discussing squid communication strategies over actually talking about what they were- that was okay, right?  They had fought for and won the time again.  They could ignore the stream and sit in the shade together.  The world could go on around them and things could stay the same as they had always been.  But, it was hard to shake, this feeling of mortality that shivered down his spine.  He had been ended.  His life that should have marched on into eternity had been over.  Yes, he had returned, obviously.  But, the movement of time, the way it ticked by relentlessly, that was difficult to leave behind.

The days until they were to meet seemed to stretch and ache with the wait of it.  Why did Crowley need so much notice, he groused to himself.  What pressing things did he have to do that meant putting Aziraphale off?  But, really, he just missed the demon.  A few more days shouldn't be any worse than the prior two weeks.  Oh, but time was cupped in his hands now.  He held it and then it slipped away.  He held the next and watched it go.

Before he knew it, despite counting the moments, it was Tuesday.  Absurdly, he found himself in front of his bedroom mirror, every bowtie he owned strewn across the rarely-used bed behind him.  It was nearly 10:30 now, but none of them seemed right.  He wasn't sure why he was worried about which bowtie to wear to see Crowley.  Crowley didn't seem to actually like any of them.  Still, it would, perhaps, give the demon something to comment on.  Something to break the two and a half weeks of confusing silence.  But, none of them seemed to be the right one and he had no time to get another.  He could miracle one, of course.  But that wouldn't be the same.  Too much detectable effort for something that should be trivial.  Crowley would know.  It could spook him.

Aziraphale gave it up as a loss, going without.  It felt a little scandalous: having his shirt undone at the top and exposing a little bit more of his throat.  There was precedent for that, though.  There had been ages before bowties existed.  Terrible times.  Okay times.  Now was better, surely.  Not just because of bowties, but they certainly helped.  None of this forethought stopped him when he reached the gate of the park and paused to straighten the absent bowtie.  His hands fluttered at his neck for a moment before he clasped them, resolutely, behind his back.

It wasn't nearly as hard to find Crowley as he'd thought, considering the lack of direction in the note.  A demonic miracle floated on the breeze, he could smell it.  Somehow, the light smell of char settled him.  It was familiar, as was the prickling that went down his spine and ruffled his tucked-away feathers.  That's what it felt like to be around Crowley and it was a greater relief than even he thought it would be.

He followed the sensations down a winding side-path that he was certain had not existed the last time he had been to the park.  It was dotted along the sides with salvias in full bloom- red and blues mixed together.  He was vaguely familiar with the flower from one of Crowley's many long one-sided, often drunken,  discussions on plants.  It occurred to him that they might be meaningful, but if Crowley had mentioned a meaning for them, he couldn't remember it.

The path abruptly ended and opened into a perfectly circular clearing.  And there, in the center, sat Crowley.  Under him was a blue and red checkered blanket strewn with the contents of a picnic basket which sat by his right hip.  There was no way all the treats had fit inside that basket without a miracle- the finger sandwiches and pastries, coffee and mugs, wine in a bucket of ice with it's own glasses that perched upright on the blanket against their will.

The most arresting bit of all, though, was Crowley himself.  His wings were out and spread in great arcs over the picnic.  The feathers caught the sunlight as it streamed down on him, bouncing it off his black feathers in shimmers of blues and greens and even gold.  And, speaking of gold, Aziraphale paused  at the head of the trail when he noticed that Crowley's glasses were nowhere to be seen.  When Aziraphale dared to meet the demon's golden eyes, Crowley swallowed hard, but held his gaze.  The very trees in the clearing seemed to bend their leaves around he demon with a very peculiar, but not entirely uncomfortable, tension.

Here he had thought a miracled bowtie would be too much of a give-away and Crowley had miracled a secluded alcove in the park, a picnic of everything portable that he enjoyed, and he was barring himself in near public as he had never dared to do since the beginning.

Aziraphale approached slowly, hands now fidgeting in front of him, unable to tear his eyes from Crowley's.  His heart hammered all the harder the closer he got, no matter how sternly he told it that the pounding was unnecessary.  Finally, after just a few moments that felt like something more, he was at the edge of the blanket.  He knelt across from Crowley and took in his friend, smiling genuinely if a bit nervously.  This all definitely looked like... something.  But, there was always, always room for misinterpretation. 

“No bowtie?” Crowley was smirking and it did wonders to settle the angel's flip-flopping stomach.  This was Crowley.  He was safe, no matter what the context.

“No glasses?”  Banter.  Banter they could do.

“I thought,” and Crowley broke the eye contact they had thus far maintained, but then seemed to shake himself and resume it with purpose, “I thought we could meet here, with- without pretense.”

“No pretense?”  Aziraphale settled down further onto the blanket and if his knee was nearly brushing Crowley's, well, that was okay now, right?

“Open, honest, without walls,” a ripple went through Crowley's wings and it seemed he might put them away, “I thought we could be... us.  Just us.”

“Just us?” Aziraphale shook out his own wings and watched with no small amount of pleasure as Crowley's eyes traveled over them, his face going slack before smiling a beautifully genuine smile.  When was the last time he'd seen the demon smile?  Not a smirk, not a grimace, but a smile?  It made Aziraphale want to dare the world- to leave his wings out for the rest of eternity- just to ensure that he could go on pleasing the demon, “I think that sounds lovely, my dear.”

“Ngk,” at the use of the endearment, Crowley's eyes snapped away and then, resolutely back to his, “it's not like we have excuses now, anyway.”

“Excuses, what for?”

“Don't be a complete bastard, Angel.”

Aziraphale smirked at him and cocked his head in question.  His confidence was rising by the moment that his was exactly what he thought it was.  Still, he wanted it confirmed.

“I missed you, okay?”  Crowley bumped his knee with his own and then... left it there, the two of them pressed together.  Aziraphale pressed back and watched, in wonder, as Crowley relaxed.  His wings stopped shifting.  He seemed to somehow melt back down into himself.

“You could have just dropped by the shop,” Aziraphale trailed off as he watched the demons eyes dart away again, “or called?”

“I'm not sure I can... I wondered if...,” Crowley cursed and took a deep breath, “Openness: I may need time getting over seeing our home in flames, Aziraphale.  Knowing... knowing that you were gone.  That I was alone.  And, I don't- I don't just mean against the end of the world, you know?  I mean, if I won?  What would I really gain if you were still gone?”

“You would have gone on, darling, yes?” Aziraphale only noticed after he had done it that his hand was now resting on the demon's other knee.  He left it there.

“... yeah, but it wouldn't have been the same...”

“Why not?”

Crowley gave him an incredulous look even as Aziraphale squeezed his knee in encouragement.  Aziraphale was leaning closer to him now, even as Crowley sat still, starring grumpily at him.

“Obviously, you have gone to a lot of trouble here for me, Crowley.  No walls, no pretenses.  Whatever it is you're trying to tell me you know you can just say it, right?”

There was a long pause where Aziraphale watched the demon struggle with himself, his eyes darting down and then up, as if looking for help somewhere, anywhere.  He swallowed and then shuddered, his mouth opening and then shutting again.  Finally, the angel took some pity on him.  He offered his hand to Crowley and the demon took it.  Then he pulled it towards him slowly, pressing a soft kiss to the palm.

“It's just us, Crowley, no walls.  You invited me here because you want me here and I am glad for it.  I came at your summons as I always will, darling, because I wish to be with you.  There's nothing you could tell me or ask me that would send me away save the direct instruction to do so.  Even then, I would try to dissuade you of the notion before taking my leave.”

“I've half a mind,” Crowley chuckled damply, “to test that, Aziraphale.  All the times you've sent me away.  No, let me finish.  I know why you did it.  Really, I understand.  I pushed you too hard because I was scared.  I wanted you on my side- our side- I thought I was running out of time.”

“You were,” Aziraphale squeezed the hand he now held captive in his lap, “you- we- were running out of time.”

“It worked out though.”

“Yes.”

“And we're on our side now.”

“Yes, dear.”

“That's what matters,” Crowley nodded resolutely, “All of this... I wanted to celebrate that.”

Aziraphale took in the spread of food and drink again before responding.

“That's all?”

“You're going to make me say it, aren't you?”

Aziraphale stared up at him through his eyelashes, but the look was ruined when he laughed.

“I love you, you bastard.”  Crowley tried to tug his hand back, but Aziraphale held it steadily in his lap, smirking as the demon struggled.  Then, without warning, he stopped fighting and allowed himself to be pulled forward with all of Crowley's force.  Crowley tumbled backwards, his wings stretching out to either side of him as he fell- there was no way they could catch him.  Still clutching his hand, Aziraphale landed, sprawled on top of him.

“What?” Crowley blinked up at him in shock, both his hands- one just freed- hanging in the air on either side of the angel smirking down at him.

“Oh, my silly serpent,” Aziraphale pressed his forehead to Crowley's and met his eyes without mercy, “I love you, too.”

What happened from one moment to the next was unclear.  He had missed a burble in the stream of time and lost it.  All he knew was that Crowley's lips were on his and his hands were in his hair.  When the stream resumed, he kissed him back with fervor.  He worked his hands under the demon's shoulders and pulled him over as they rolled, knocking over the ice bucket and the glasses- though neither cared.  He reached behind the demon, over his shoulder blades, and into the delicate feathers that connected them to his wings.  Crowley whimpered and arched into him, finally breaking the kiss.

“Why, Angel, is that a hardback novel in your pocket or are you just really happy to see me?”

“Crowley... I am always more than happy to see you.”  And then to ensure no more interruptions, he kissed him again.

A breeze rustled through the clearing, combing through feathers entangled: ebony and ivory.  It traveled upwards and away from them, carrying a relieved sigh through the leaves of the trees.

#aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable husbands #good omens #good omens fic #star light-reads #i had no idea this had become a 3k+ monster until i started typing it up #whew lol

[cleverlittlejay]

Raphael anon back once again with a hilarious thought: Family therapy with Crowley, Lucifer, Gabriel, & Micheal and it’s just so wild & the poor therapist is so confused. They assume it’s just rich people scandals & shenanigans but all of these drama queens in a room together trying to work through over 6,000 years of family issues while some poor human tries to keep everything from becoming a chaotic nightmare without the full story of what’s going on is infinitely funny to me.

hello, anon! this was such a delight to write! also, fun fact, i’m a psych major and took one (1) intro to counseling psych class, but that actually helped in writing this, so that was fun! This is also super long (1k words!) so it also goes under a read more. (another fun fact: i stole the name Dr. Martin from Lucifer on Netflix because why not.) 

(one more fun fact, i genuinely hate the Neflix!Lucifer stereotype that a psychiatrist who went to med school would be a therapist. it’s two different fields. ok sorry, it’s fic time)

Dr. Martin was good at her job. She worked hard to become a therapist, and she genuinely believed that she could help her clients. It’s why she started her private practice. 

Her next appointment was a family therapy session. She briefly wondered how her secretary forgot to mention that she had an appointment or that she had new clients at all, but these mistakes happen. Sometimes computers just don’t want to work, deleting emails and not saving the clients’ last names in the file. 

The family consisted of four siblings. Lucifer, Michael, Gabriel, and Anthony J Crowley. Anthony, she learned, preferred to be called Crowley, and the other three siblings did not share that last name. 

The four siblings did not get along. At all. And they wanted to, Crowley explained, but they just couldn’t see eye to eye. 

“It all started when Mother kicked me out,” Lucifer said. “More specifically, she had Michael kick me out because she’s–”

“Because,” Michael interrupted, “you were an awful son who refused to listen to her. Causing trouble, thinking you’re better than her. Asking questions.” That last part was clearly directed at Crowley, who offered a light shrug. 

“Interrupting isn’t kind, Michael,” Dr. Martin said. “Please let Lucifer talk, and then you can say your part.”

If looks could kill, Dr. Martin would’ve died a hundred times over in her career. Michael’s glare was terrifying, but she’d seen it all before. 

The final picture was that their mother kicked out Lucifer and Crowley due to rebelliousness. The two questioned her authority and so they had to be removed before they corrupted any others. Now, after the disappearance of their mother, the siblings decided to get together again and reconnect.

A cult, Dr. Martin realized. She was working with the aftereffects of a cult. The religious names, the absolute authority, the punishment that included some kind of fire, the isolation from others, it all painted a very clear but dark picture.

She thanked them for their openness and had her secretary book their next appointment. 

Then, she realized how much she didn’t know about cults–she owned a private practice, she didn’t work with law enforcement or social services–and began her research. She read articles on cult-related family dynamics and trauma. She even called her old colleague for some direction. 

The next session, the two eldest siblings focussed on each other. As Lucifer and Michael went on, Crowley and Gabriel seemed content to watch them argue as Dr. Martin futilely attempted to control the session. 

“Even now, you’re a pest,” Michael sneered, ignoring the no-interruptions rule. “Your demons cause nothing but trouble and you barely control them.”

Inner demons were difficult to control, sometimes spiralling and causing issues in real life. It took strength to admit that you need support in fighting your battles.

Lucifer spoke before Dr. Martin could voice that. 

“Maybe you should control your angels, Michael. Always wandering into trouble, making friends with demons and then getting hurt. It’s almost as if they don’t respect your command.”

“Tell your demons to stop fraternizing with the enemy!”

“Hey,” Crowley interrupted. “I thought that sides don’t matter anymore. I can fraternize with an angel if I wanted to.”

“Now, yes, but not before,” Michael said patronizingly, as if she was leading the session rather than Dr. Martin. “But you endangered yourself and Aziraphale by being with him.”

“Not like Aziraphale was in danger,” Gabriel grumbled. “He got away with it.”

The session ended without any of the siblings making any progress. It was fine, Dr. Martin rationed. Progress is not always linear, and she needed to first create a safe space where they were comfortable speaking up. 

She also realized that her original theory was wrong. It wasn’t a cult. It was the mob. 

Different sides, angels and demons, both told that the other is the enemy. Perhaps Lucifer and Crowley disagreed with their “mother’s” rule and were punished for noncompliance. Michael was clearly the enforcer, punishing those who stepped out of line. It blurred the definition of “sibling,” but it explained the disdain that Lucifer and Michael had for each other. 

This realization led to a new line of research. The mob was harder to research from a psychological or counseling therapy perspective, and Dr. Martin ended up making even more calls to colleagues and old professors. 

“First a cult and now the mob,” her old classmate laughed. “You have some interesting clients.”

Dr. Martin refused to admit that she was wrong about the cult. No one had to know. 

She changed her strategy during their next session. The past was important to understanding a person, but perhaps it was better to focus on the present. 

“Despite everything that happened, Lucifer and Crowley being kicked out and you being forced to lead, how do you feel about Lucifer right now?” 

Michael didn’t answer immediately, which was a good sign. When she answered, she didn’t look at Lucifer or speak to him directly, but she knew that he was there and listening to her.  

“I don’t hate him,” Michael said slowly. “He’s still my brother. I didn’t have a choice, you know. I had to do it.” 

Dr. Martin could imagine the lack of choice. It was likely that if Michael didn’t do as told, she would’ve also been punished. It was coercion, and Michael couldn’t be held fully accountable. 

“I don’t hate you, either,” Lucifer said. There was a forced air of casualness around him, protecting Michael from rejection. “You’re still my baby sister. No fall can change that, Micah.”

Progress. It took three sessions and a lot of pain and bitterness, but they were making progress. Michael and Lucifer finally broke through their hard shells to admit that there is a possibility to move forward in their relationship with genuine love and affection. That kind of hope was why Dr. Martin was a therapist in the first place. 

Dr. Martin scheduled their next appointment. She was hopeful for their next session, creating an outline that would include more dialogue and encourage the younger two siblings to speak more often. The four of them had hope yet. 

Dr. Martin was good at her job. She would help bridge a 6000 year old gap of pain and misery to create a new era of peace. Not that she knew that, of course. She was just a therapist to a weird group of siblings. 

Humans, She thought in amusement, were clearly Her best creations yet.

#anon that offer for my firstborn is still valid #also sorry that this was less shenanigans and crowley related #i can do a follow up if you want? #i just love outsider povs so much #you do not understand #thank you for the prompt #and i might post this on ao3? #its long enough lol #ok rambling over and time for search tags #good omens #raphael theory #my post #yall can reblog and it would be cool if you did but its your choice #Anonymous

[kaesaaurelia]

fine quality copper ingots

For @whumptober2020 day 29: I Think I Need A Doctor (specifically "reluctant bedrest")

Continues on from day four, wherein Aziraphale met up with a distraught coworker, waited for Crawly at the base of the Tower of Babel, and then it fell on him, day five, wherein Aziraphale did his best to help the citizens of Babylon, and was caught by demons for his trouble, day eight, wherein Aziraphale found brief and unexpected camaraderie among the prisoners of Hell, day eleven, wherein Hell tried to make a deal with Aziraphale, day twelve, wherein Crawly finally stops by, and doesn’t help, day fourteen, wherein Hell subjects Aziraphale to a very unpleasant experience, which is admittedly kind of Hell’s brand, day twenty-four, wherein all the lights go out and Crawly someone springs Aziraphale and guides him through the tunnels of Hell, and day twenty-seven, wherein there’s an earthquake and the tunnels of Hell collapse in on both of them.

This is the end of the Tower of Babel fic!  I’ll be posting this to AO3 at some point, probably this weekend.

Aziraphale/f!Crawly, with a little post-canon Aziraphale/Crowley bit at the end as well.  Mild respiratory distress and wing wounds discussed, but nothing gory; this installment is mostly hurt/comfort.

It took them a while to reach the top of the stairs, and Crawly had been hurt badly by the cave-in, but the growing window of light and sky above buoyed Aziraphale's spirits enormously, and he thought Crawly felt similarly, although she was having such a difficult time that Aziraphale ended up tsking to himself and carrying her.

Crawly was indignant, at first. "Angel, don't be ridiculouss --" she started, before she had another coughing fit; Aziraphale decided that was permission enough to be ridiculous, and Crawly raised no more objections.

When they emerged into the light, it was into the city of Babylon once more, and things were much calmer than they had been before. All the light gave Aziraphale a bit of a headache, and also, he had to put Crawly down or they were going to get very strange looks.

They made their way to an inn, and got the attention of the proprietor. "Don't think she speaks any of our languages, angel," said Crawly, hoarsely.

"Have you got a room?" Aziraphale asked her, loudly and slowly, and she rolled her eyes at him and said something incomprehensible. She seemed to be asking a question, and she pointed at both Aziraphale and Crawly in turn. She held up two fingers, and looked inquiringly at the two of them, and then mimed sleeping.

"Two, yes. Two beds," said Aziraphale, because he really needed a rest, and she presented them with two keys. "No, no," he said, "only one room. One!" he said, holding up one finger. "But two --" he held up two fingers, and mimed sleeping again. "Two beds."

"Ah!" said the proprietor, and took back one of the keys.

"But has this one got two beds?" Aziraphale asked, gesturing again, and she assured them in gestures, yes, go to the room.

So Aziraphale tried to take the key, but she tugged it back, and demanded payment -- the procedure for this was that Aziraphale laid out coins on the table, hoping at some point she would agree that it was enough coins, and she watched, and then, eventually, Crowley hissed, "She's cheating you, angel," grabbed the key quicker than the innkeeper could take it back, and pulled him off to go to the room. (Then she'd had another coughing fit on the stairs up, poor thing.)

This was how they ended up with one room with one bed. It was not ideal, but in fairness, Aziraphale supposed he should have expected this.

"Was I not clear enough with her, do you think?" he asked, frowning down at the bed.

"It'ss fine, you were fine," said Crawly, still winded. Technically she didn't have to breathe at all, but she did need it to speak, and also, once you were in the habit of breathing, not doing it was very uncomfortable.

"You should lie down," said Aziraphale, "you sound dreadful. Is it all just stuff in your lungs, or did you break something?"

"I don't know, and I don't --" She began coughing again, and reluctantly sat down on the bed. "Ow," she said, miserably, once the coughing fit was over. "Fuck. Could you get... sstuff out of my lungss and I'll -- angel what the fuck," she said.

Aziraphale had got out his wings, so that he could finally heal them, and he'd been ready for the pain, but he'd forgot how bad they would look, especially ignored for however many days he'd been trapped in Hell. "Got caught in the tower collapse," he said. "I suppose... I suppose that didn't have anything to do with you after all."

"No!" she said, and began coughing again. Aziraphale dragged the dust out of her lungs with a miracle, and she was able to breathe more freely, although she still winced whenever she moved. "Thanksss. Let me ssee your wingss, they're awful, I'm sso sorry you had to -- Satan, did the whole tower collapse on you specifically or what?"

"It sort of leaned over and fell, and I didn't get out of the way in time," said Aziraphale, unhappily. He sat, and winced as Crawly ran her long fingers gently over the wounds, treating them with stinging healing miracles.

"So you didn't have anything to do with it either?" Crawly asked.

"Me? Why would I --"

"Heaven did it, ssomehow," said Crawly. "Didn't they?"

"Well, they didn't send me to do it," said Aziraphale. "I'd have told you! And not been standing under the tower waiting for you." He winced and tried to stay still as Crawly set one of the bones in his wing. "How did your meeting with the copper merchant go, anyway?"

"Horribly," said Crawly. "Basstard tried to cheat me. I mean, I knew he was going to do that, I'd sussed him out as a good target for being tempted to greed early on, but that wasn't what I was there for," she said. "Actually, if it'd gone well maybe the tower could've stayed up a little longer."

"Oh?" said Aziraphale. "Crawly! Were you trying to save Babylon from this awful disaster?" He was very touched. "I mean, it was going against God's will, that's properly demonic, I suppose, but --"

"I wasn't trying to ssave anybody," Crawly insisted. "Have you talked to the people who live around the tower? I mean, not now, can't talk to them now, they won't understand you -- but before, I mean. Did you get a chance to talk to any of them about it? There, I think that'ss the last break, try the left one," she said, tapping his left wing.

Aziraphale spread the wing experimentally, flapped it, folded and unfolded it, and it felt sore, but otherwise fine. "Yes, I think you got them all. Thank you, my dear," he said, and he realized as her hands paused in running over his right wing, what he'd called her. "Very kind of you," he said, quickly, to distract her.

"I'm not --"

"And no, I hadn't talked to any of the people who lived nearby. What would they have said?" he asked Crawly. He winced as she fixed another break.

"Well, they didn't like it at all," she said. "Ruined all their views, didn't it? Gave them shade when they didn't always want it. You have a nice little second floor apartment in the middle of the city, and then suddenly this great bloody tower springs up like a -- like a -- well, it’s awkwardly phallic, only instead of just being not what you want to see, it takes up your entire front room window and makes it too dark to do anything indoors. They were so angry about it," said Crawly, sounding very pleased with this. "Try the right wing now?" she suggested.

Aziraphale tested his other wing. "Much better, thank you," he said, and he was a little surprised that she pulled his wing back towards her. "What are you doing?"

"Well, they look awful, don't they? All clotted blood and messy feathers everywhere, I'm embarrassed to be seen with you, frankly," said Crawly. "I'll have to neaten them up."

It felt... good, having someone else run their fingers through his feathers. Aziraphale tried not to think about it; it needed doing, and she had offered. "All right," he said.

"Right!" she said, starting in on his wings. "Anyway, I thought, well that's a good source of misery, that is. And maybe other people will try and build bigger ones, and land will start getting horribly expensive because there's a big tower craze and you can fit more shops and tenants into a tower than you can into a regular building. Only... what if lightning strikes the damn thing? Then it just burns and maybe kills the people at the top, and the tower's not appealing at all and everything goes back to normal."

"Mm," said Aziraphale, who was having a bit of trouble paying attention, because he hadn't quite realized what a terrible state his wings were in until she'd started cleaning them up, and goodness, that did feel good, didn't it? "Sorry, what does the copper have to do with any of this?"

"Well, I had an idea about redirecting the lightning," she said.

"Towards... people you don't like?" Aziraphale asked.

"No, no! Just, to the ground. That'd make towers safe. Or, safer, really. And then more of them would be built and they'd cause everyone misery as everybody tried to build bigger and bigger buildings and eventually they'd all run out of money and stone and wood and they'd be stuck with their big stupid buildings, all hating each other."

"Do you really think so?" Aziraphale asked. "I thought it looked quite nice."

"Well, sure, that one did, but once they start being the thing to build there'll be imitators and some of them will be substandard and everybody knows the sequel's never as good as the first one." Crawly sounded so pleased with herself that Aziraphale felt bad contradicting her by reminding her that there would have been even nicer towers built, once human architects really got used to working with the medium. It didn't matter; it was against the Will of God, so it wasn't going to happen, anyway.

Aziraphale decided, also, that he'd better neaten up his own wings, because that felt -- maybe -- too good? Yes. Best not to make any sort of mistakes. He didn't want to end up in Nisroc's shoes.  "Well!" he said, folding his wing in front of him, and standing up to walk away from the bed. "I think I can take care of the rest of this, Crawly, thank you for healing me. I think you ought to rest up, though, you've been through so much."

"But --" She looked very disappointed.

"I'll stay here with you if you like," said Aziraphale. "We haven't even had that lunch yet, have we? Why don't we do that tomorrow?" he suggested.

"We don't have to -- if you don't want --" She looked embarrassed, for some reason.

"Crawly, you did save me from Hell, I do think I owe you lunch, at the very least, and, well, I know you like sleep, and I think you need rest. I had to carry you up those stairs!"

"Didn't have to," she muttered. "But... oh, fine," she said, rolling her eyes. "If it makes you happy." So she lay down and closed her eyes, and if Aziraphale ended up settling in next to her, one newly-preened wing laying over her, that was his own business. And if Crawly ended up deciding she was too comfortable to move and going back to sleep for another few days, well... nobody had to know.

--

Aziraphale felt that he really ought to stay in town and see that Babylon recovered adequately, and Crawly had decided a city where nobody could understand each other was optimal for her wiles, and so, a few weeks later, they both still happened to be in town, by coincidence, and had met up for lunch, also by coincidence, nearly every day.

"One thing I would like to know, Crawly," said Aziraphale, over a very strong drink that he didn't think was quite what he'd meant to order. It was very good, at least. "What was that awful drawing of Satan you were terrorizing me with?"

"He was remaking a fallen angel," said Crawly, as if this much was obvious.

"Ah. So you were telling me I was going to be 'remade,' said Aziraphale.

"What? No! I was telling you you had to wait until he was busy with all of that," said Crawly, pouring herself another glass of the mysterious drink. "Because of the blackouts. They had some really powerful, you know, big names in Heaven, I guess, and I knew the lights would be out for a good long time."

"Ah," said Aziraphale. "That's -- that's not how I interpreted it." He felt a bit sheepish now. "You could've been more clear, though."

"I'm not a very good artist, cut me some slack, Aziraphale," she said.

"Did you know the earthquake was coming?" Aziraphale asked.

Crawly shook her head. "Knew there'd be something like that, but I wasn't thinking earthquake. With the stronger ones, anyway, when their powers come back they sort of... echo. It's hard to explain. Usually not earthquakes, though."

"Did you have to go through all of that?" Aziraphale asked.

"Everyone had to go through all of that, angel," said Crawly. He must have looked appalled, because she went on, reassuringly. "And then you get your new name, and then you're done, and it's fine."

Nisroc had mentioned this, but it hadn't really stuck in Aziraphale's mind. "Did -- I'm sorry, did Satan name you Crawly?" he asked.

"I didn’t have much input," Crawly said, and then downed the rest of her cup. "It's fine. I'm used to it by now."

"I don't know why I expected anything better out of Satan," Aziraphale admitted.

"Could be worse. At least I don't have to work for Heaven anymore," said Crawly, and grinned at Aziraphale's sour look. "Definitely worth it."

"Well. I suppose we'll have to agree to disagree," said Aziraphale.

--

Several millennia later, Aziraphale remembered a question he'd been meaning to ask Crowley for a while. It was a lovely morning -- it had been a very lovely evening -- except that the news on the telly today was all about some people who were very angry about a new, very expensive tall building going up in front of their own, extant, very expensive tall building. It was not the first time he'd heard about something like this, and it would probably not be the last, but when Crowley came up behind him and buried his face in one of Aziraphale's wings while wrapping his hands around Aziraphale's chest, it was the first time he had the opportunity to ask the question just as it occurred to him.

"Dearest," said Aziraphale, waiting for Crowley to be done with this. He did get very silly about Aziraphale's wings sometimes, which was very flattering and quite delightful in the bedroom, but also it was sort of inconvenient the morning after, when Aziraphale wanted to sit down for a while, or go for another cup of tea.

"Mmh?" Crowley asked. He unburied his face and kissed Aziraphale on the cheek. "Yes, angel?"

"Did you --" Aziraphale gestured with his mug of tea towards the television, where the announcer was gravely explaining that the views outside of some very rich people's windows were going to change, and that this upset them greatly. "Was that you?"

"No, they did that on their own, I'm afraid," said Crowley. He tsked to himself. "The Americans got all the credit for skyscrapers. And the lighting rod! World's not fair, angel. I suppose it's what I get for making all those claims about starting wars and whatnot in my reports Downstairs."

"Well, I'll always know you were ahead of your time," said Aziraphale. He turned to give Crowley a quick kiss, but it lingered, and he shivered as Crowley ran his fingers along the edges of his primary feathers, with the lightest, most delicate touch. Eventually, reluctantly, he pulled away, and smiled at Crowley's surprised look. "I thought I wanted another cup of tea," said Aziraphale, putting his nearly-empty mug down on the coffee table, "but I think that can wait." He kissed Crowley again, and this time, pushed him back towards the bedroom.

#whumptober2020 #no.29 #i think i need a doctor #reluctant bedrest #good omens #aziraphale #anthony j crowley #ineffable husbands #fiction #text #kaesa op

[maawi1253]

ship ask game - ineffable husbands, han/leia, han/luke, stormpilot (if you ship it?? shit i'm not sure)

*crack knuckles* ALright LET'S DO THIS, read more bc this is long XD

Ineffable husbands: The umbrella, when it rains - Aziraphale. Crowley is too easily distracted, and Az would be fussing anyway, easier to just hand it to him as soon as the first raindrop falls. The popcorn at the cinema - Crowley buys some caramel/hot pepper monstrosity which Az refuses to touch, let alone eat. The baby, when it cries - Oh god. They both stare at it with a "deer in the headlights expression". I think Crowley would cave eventually, he has marginally more experience with infants because of the whole, y'know, Antichrist exchange. The ice cream cone, when they share - Drastically different tastes and attitudes to food tho, don't think they would share. The remote, when they sit down to watch a movie - Whoever didn't get to pick the movie. The basket, when they go shopping - Definetely Az. The door, on dates - Az, unless Crowley is in an exceptionally sappy mood. The other’s hand, most often - 50/50. They hold hands A LOT because it feels safe and they keep reaching out to each other in any and all situations (A funeral? Anathema giving birth? Unexpected visit from Gabriel? You betcha.) Their breath, upon seeing the other on their wedding day - Crowley would be hyperventilating the entire time. The camera, when they take pictures together - Crowley, he's better with modern technology in general.

Han/Leia: The umbrella, when it rains - Han. MUST PROTECT THE PRINCESS. Leia is torn between amused, fond, and annoyed. The popcorn at the cinema - Look, I don't think Han can be trusted around food? His life has been rather difficult, and regular meals wouldn't be a feature, so all food around him disappears immediately. Leia made the mistake of handing him popcorn once and never again. The baby, when it cries - Chewie, he fucking adores babies. If it's their kid, they probably argue who gets to hold the beloved rascal. If not theirs, they swiftly leave. The ice cream cone, when they share - See "popcorn". No sharing food with Han, get him his own cone. The remote, when they sit down to watch a movie - Leia. That girl is not about to give up an ounce of control, pun intended. The basket, when they go shopping - Leia (see above), but then Han gets weird about letting her lag everything around on her own, so he gets another basket for heavy things. His basket ends up holding a pack of tampons and nth else, but at least he Contributed, right? The door, on dates - Leia is not into the Prince Charming act. Whoever gets to the door first. The other’s hand, most often - Han sometimes needs reassurance he's wanted, and that's the easiest way to get it, especially when Leia is busy with sth else and can't be asked for verbal reassurance right this moment. Their breath, upon seeing the other on their wedding day - I would say both of them end up choked up. The camera, when they take pictures together - Leia. She wants this well-documented in case it ends.

Han/Luke: The umbrella, when it rains - Han. MUST PROTECT THE SWEET DESERT CHILD. Luke would be so flustered. The popcorn at the cinema - Luke because he doesn't know better. Han gets sick from inhaling the entire bucket in 15 seconds flat. The baby, when it cries - I think kids would adore Luke and his sunny disposition. The ice cream cone, when they share - See "popcorn", except it was 5 seconds this time. The remote, when they sit down to watch a movie - No one, the movie gets too quickly forgotten in favour of making out. The basket, when they go shopping - They go in without the basket and unfailingly end up carrying half the store around in their arms. The door, on dates - Han. Luke is VERY into the Prince Charming act. The other’s hand, most often - Luke is touchy-feely af with EVERYONE, but ESPECIALLY his boyfriend. Their breath, upon seeing the other on their wedding day - Would they get married, tho? Maybe years upon years down the road, when Luke is feeling secure enough as a Jedi to take on another huge commitment and be able to handle both. And at that point, it feels as if they were married for decades, so, neither. The camera, when they take pictures together - They usually get other people to take pictures of them, bc they have tendency to make each other giggle at the wrong time.

Stormpilot (babe I ship everything, and even if not, I can headcanon anyway) The umbrella, when it rains - Neither of them gives a fuck about the rain, so, neither I guess. The popcorn at the cinema - Poe. Finn quickly finds he prefers gummy bears or chocolate bars or w/e else to popcorn. Poe tries not to judge him too much. The baby, when it cries - Finn. His voice is magic and calms down even teething toddlers. The ice cream cone, when they share - Poe. With a manic grin bc Finn is a liiiittle embarassed by the whole ordeal. The remote, when they sit down to watch a movie - Finn because he's been deprived of control and choice long enough, if you ask Poe. The basket, when they go shopping - Handhold, Finn. The wheeled around kind is Poe's because he's the designated pilot driver of EVERYTHING. The door, on dates - Poe is DETERMINED to give Poe ALL HAPPINESS HE COULD HAVE EVER WANTED, and that includes cheesy romantic gestures. He always gets Finn flowers for dates, too. The other’s hand, most often - Finn, although it's more often holding onto elbow/jacket/whichever part of Poe is the closest. He still can't believe he's allowed to, sometimes. Their breath, upon seeing the other on their wedding day - I bet you anything that Poe actually faints, like the drama queen he is. Finn has no time for breath-holding and he runs to check up on his dumbass husband-to-be. The camera, when they take pictures together - Each of them with one hand and it's as sickeningly adorable as it sounds.

#thank you! #Rory #star wars #good omens

[new-endings]

The Nice and Accurate Guide to Courting

Summary: As Hell’s bastard prince, Crowley is expected to wed an Archangel of Heaven’s kingdom to bring peace between the two warring nations.

It really is too bad he only has eyes for his sweet, bastard of a Guide, the Principality Aziraphale, who is dead-set on making sure the engagement happens.

Chapter 3: 

Interlude: A Guide’s Folly and Frustrations

ch1, ch2, ao3

Chapter Summary: In which Aziraphale struggles to find the meaning behind Crowley's exceedingly odd behaviors.

Special thanks to @top-crowley-central, @sadwendigo, @imjustadrummer and of course, @hope-for-snow (dw bby I’ll give you yours next time) for helping me come up with these little courting intricacies!

Aziraphale fought the urge to pace back and forth.

He’s late. Again…

Aziraphale could understand being nervous; he himself was the last person to fault another for such feelings. It was, after all, quite a momentous occasion.

The Angel did his best to set the mood: an abundance of miracled flora sprawling vibrantly over the white walls, the clearance of both his and Crowley’s schedules, and all on a lovely sunset—clouds painted with lovely pinks and blues as the warm, orange twilight bathed the castle in its romantic glow.

Aziraphale ducked his head out from the balcony and his heart caught in his throat—

Ah. Finally.

The prince had arrived.

Aziraphale sighed a breath of relief and smiled to himself as he let his eyes trail over him. Well, doesn’t he look fetching?

Crowley tended to wear darker garb, as was customary for many people in Hell, and while he hadn’t altered that aspect of his wardrobe, he did heed Aziraphale’s light suggestion in wearing something a little more form-fitting… something that accentuated Crowley’s height, his lean body, and elegant lines. And the results were nothing less than spectacular.

Crowley, unfortunately, was making a face far less pleasant to look at.

Or rather he did until he met eyes with Aziraphale; a bright smile graced his lips and Aziraphale gave a little wave back.

Good, Aziraphale thought. What was probably pre-date jitters seemed to melt right off. Aziraphale gave an encouraging grin in return and made a gesture for the prince to get on with it.

Archangel Uriel wasn’t going to stand around at the keep forever.

The prince made a show of rolling his eyes before sauntering towards the awaiting Archangel, her shoulders visibly stiffening at the sign of the prince’s approach.

Holding a breath and uttering a short prayer, Aziraphale forced himself to watch on with apprehensive hope. It was quite difficult to get a hold of any of the Archangels, but with the deleterious prospect of war hanging over their heads, the Archangels were less inclined to deny a Prince of Hell private audience.

Then, it was simply a matter of choosing one that best suited Crowley’s fancy.

Archangel Michael was the most revered of the Archangels: her fortitude in the battlefield earned her place as the Queen’s Right Hand—

—but that being said, she was also terrifying, slain innumerous members of Hells’ army, and in Crowley’s words “a wanker.”

Though Aziraphale sputtered at the last bit, Aziraphale supposed he should count their lucky stars that there were other choices to speak of; Michael, for now, was safely off the table.

Then there’s Archangel Gabriel—

—to which Crowley vetoed outright. “Angel, does it look like I fancy the prospect of going for an early morning jog every damned day for the rest of my life?” And, well…

Aziraphale could hardly fault him for that, now could he?

That left Archangel Uriel.

Calm and steadfast in her mannerisms, Aziraphale felt that out of all the Archangels, Uriel would probably be their best bet in going forward with their Queen’s plan. Sure, she seemed a bit cold. Standoffish, really, and a tad intimidating—but she was also a refined lover of the arts. Something that Crowley (and himself) could greatly appreciate.

There, Aziraphale thought triumphantly. An Archangel who isn’t interested in liquid protein concoctions and an Archangel who you can bring home to without constant threats of assassination for vengeance. Crowley, begrudgingly half-heartedly, agreed.

Oh! They’re conversing! The Angel fought back a delighted sound. He really, really hoped this would go well. He prayed that they’d at least get along. Aziraphale wasn’t naïve—he knew how much of a sacrifice this was for Crowley—for anyone, really. To tie one’s life to another for an end for a conflict, rather than for the simple joy and a promise to live a life together. It was…suboptimal, to say the least. But it must be done and all Aziraphale could do now was hope that Crowley could find both; that this would all work out in the end and that the prince would find himself with a happy marriage and live in an era of peace.

A happily-ever-after.

Aziraphale, with his love of romances and tales, was a Principality to his core. Despite their roles during the wars, Principalities were ultimately made to love.

And oh, how Aziraphale loved love.  

Hope bloomed in his chest as the minutes ticked by. It seemed to be going well enough.

Well enough being the key phrasing here. Neither of them made the efforts to step closer, keeping a sizeable distance as they conversed. It was always difficult to read Archangel Uriel, but with their backs turned, perched on the keep, and Aziraphale only able to observe from a tower balcony, it was impossible to tell the reality of things.

But at least the prince wasn’t flung off across the battlements, so Aziraphale would take that as a small victory. A positive sign.

Or it was, up until Crowley likely made a bad joke, judging from his shaking shoulders and the way the Archangel slowly turned beside him. Aziraphale’s high hopes took a sharp nosedive to the pits of his stomach, a feeling of dread creeping up to within him.

Oh no.

The pair seemed to exchange a few words before the Archangel Uriel turned and walked off, a noticeable haste in her stride, leaving Crowley making a hapless shrug at her exit.

Aziraphale blew out a blustery sigh, mourning the failed attempt. Back to the drawing board. He rushed out of the room, out of the spires, and towards the gardens at their designated meeting place.

And in his rush, he completely overlooked the triumphant grin on Crowley’s face and the pleasant tune he whistled out as he walked off.

.

“That went terribly.”

Aziraphale would have felt much more sympathy had the other even bothered to sound afflicted. “Prince Crowley—”

Slumped down on the stone bench next to him, Crowley rolled his eyes. “Just Crowley, Angel.”

“Your Highness,” Aziraphale continued irately. “What in Hell did you say to her?”

“Nothing,” Crowley replied but Aziraphale could see he was biting back a smile. “I was an utmost gentleman, I assure you.” He gave that same damned smarmy grin again. “Would I lie to you, Angel?”

The very one that made the Angel’s blood boil. “Recent history has proven that, yes, yes you can,” he sniffed. “Quite gleefully, might I add.”

Crowley made a show of pouting, but Aziraphale was not swayed. “Are you ever going to let that go?”

The Angel sent him a flat look. “Not on your life.” No siree. Not after that first humiliating encounter at the hands of Crowley’s deception.

The prince seemed to ruminate this for a while before sighing. “I’m sorry.” Huh. Aziraphale could almost believe that tone. “Honestly, I am. For how it made you feel.” Hesitantly, Aziraphale turned and was met with amber, pleading eyes.

Good grief. Aziraphale shook his head. “Crowley, it’s not my feelings you should be worried about!” He pinched his brows. “If Uriel makes a poor impression out of you, it may prove even more difficult to court—”

“Not exactly what I was apologizing for but,” Crowley paused at the sight of the unimpressed look Aziraphale shot back at him. “Yeah. Sorry about that too, I guess. What can I say? Birds don’t exactly have the best sense of humor.” He smiled to himself, obnoxiously smug. “As recent history has proven.”

Aziraphale let out a gasp. “Crowley!” Gracious, it was like he wanted things to go amuck! “You honestly shouldn’t sound so, so—”

Crowley gave a tilt of his head. “Dinner?” At the mere mention of it, Aziraphale cursed himself for his mood mellowing almost immediately. “To get your mind off it,” the prince continued. He eyed the Angel thoughtfully and Aziraphale fought the urge to squirm under his golden gaze. “There’ll be other opportunities, Angel. For now, let’s just enjoy the night.”

He already stood while Aziraphale uselessly floundered with his options; on the one hand, it would be best to regroup and discuss the meeting with Uriel thoroughly. That first impression seemed to have gone… less-than-ideal, but it was better to learn from the experience and make good use of it. On the other hand, it would be nice to get their minds off this first little misstep. And what better time to regroup than after filling their bellies to further fuel their conversation and ideas?

Crowley looked expectantly at him, hand outstretched to pull the Angel off his seat.

I talked myself into this, didn’t I? “Oh, very well,” he sighed, allowing himself to be whisked away for the night, much to his chagrin and much to Crowley’s glee.

Just like every other night, it would seem.

At least Crowley looked to be in high spirits. “Excellent! Say, how about we try that place with the thin pancakes that you like so much?”

“For the last time, Crowley, they’re crêpes—"

.

If the past few weeks taught Aziraphale one thing, it was that Demons were an astonishingly generous bunch.

Of course, he’s only had a sample size of one thus far, but Aziraphale feels that he’s got the basics down at least.

Crowley had a flair for opulence. Of course, this wasn’t unusual. He’s a prince—but Aziraphale couldn’t help feeling a slight shift as of late. Of course, Aziraphale still wanted to treat the prince as a guest of his kingdom; this often entailed Aziraphale scheduling meetings at lovely sights and monuments around the capital, the fine eateries and haunts Aziraphale frequented and could therefore vouch for in quality, and yes sometimes it would be on Crowley’s coin—

(All right, discounting their first meeting with the oysters, it was always on Crowley’s coin.)

— it seemed as though the prince’s natural desire for luxury eventually won out. Tender, juicy meats cooked to pinked perfection, fresh, flaky fish fillets lusciously seasoned, beds of vibrant and verdant vegetables, and ripe, refreshing fruits, assorted together in the varying styles of each of the four corners of the kingdom, far beyond a standard Principality’s paygrade to dine upon on a regular basis. But it was ever his fortune that as lavish the lifestyle of a prince must live (bordering on extravagance, really), Crowley was always more than willing to indulge Aziraphale’s tastes. He was delightfully thorough and thoughtful to his preferences, indeed.

Having been trained and stationed at the Eastern Gate for so long, Aziraphale’s mouth watered at the flavorings and spices of the North, the fine fragrance of the South’s wines, the luxury and decadence of the West’s desserts. He was quite eager to share them and their rich history, and Crowley…

Well he seemed to be content just to sit there and converse, letting the topic drift anywhere from the best plays that were in the theater to the rambunctious fun Crowley got into as a boy.

And to drink, of course.

Oh… Aziraphale sighed, breathing in the delicious aromas marrying together from the plate before him. The Archangel of his choosing will be surely a lucky one!

Aziraphale valiantly ignored the strange taste in his mouth at the thought. He succeeded with the aid of the lavish meal he dug into. The sea bass was cooked to perfection and paired nicely with the lemon jus and Aziraphale savored each lovely bite. Ah. Bliss.

Unfortunately, it appeared that Crowley didn’t quite agree. He had barely touched his meal and instead laid his elbow on the table ( Poor etiquette, Aziraphale thought; he ought to remind him not to do such a thing in front of an Archangel) with the palms of his hand resting his chin and staring…rather intently at Aziraphale.

The Angel blinked. “Is the food not to your liking, Crowley?”

That seemed to startle him out of whatever reverie he was under. “Hm? Oh, no—no, I mean it’s good. Just…”

“Not hungry?” the Angel offered.

Aziraphale was certain that although the poor dear gave a brisk nod, he was indeed lying. He looked positively starving! Perhaps he just wasn’t one for fish?

“Well that was scrumptious,” Aziraphale sighed, already feeling the day’s stresses dissipate. Still, the matter of the next attempts of wooing should be discussed and Crowley was looking quite famished. Perhaps they could opt for another night in at his quarters. “What are you in the mood for?”

Something flashed in those golden eyes but Aziraphale couldn’t quite put a name on it. “Alcohol. Quite extraordinary amounts of alcohol.”

.

The second thing that the past few weeks taught Aziraphale was that Demons were an incredibly forgetful bunch.

Aziraphale eyed the state of his quarters: various articles of dark clothing strewn about, sashes, scarves, coats, all matters of jewelry, even a bloody diadem just hanging on the post of his bed at one point—

Crowley really ought to take better care of his things. But, Aziraphale learned from the last venture when he had dutifully gathered up the rich cloths and glittering treasures and brought them back—

Only to be met with an…uncomfortable look from the prince and some rubbish about him Having another just like it somewhere in his wardrobe and Save it, would you? For safe keeping.

Whatever that meant.

“Oh! Before my mind slips from me,” Aziraphale said, compliant as ever in reminding Crowley about what else he decided to stow away in the Angel’s quarters. “You forgot your—”

The prince waved off the comment before resuming his regular position on the Angel’s new sofa. “Keep it; I’ve got plenty more at home.”

“Crowley,” the Angel chided. “Your ring? The one bearing your family crest?”

Amber eyes briefly flickered to the item in Aziraphale’s hand, blinking before giving a careless laugh. “Keep it; I’ve got plenty more at home.”

This little— “Oh you…” At the other’s playful grin, he had half a mind to throw it at his companion’s head, if not for sheer propriety holding him by the scruff of his neck. Crowley was a guest after all. “Fine, I shall place it here for safekeeping,” he announced, heading straight to the corner of his room that slowly turning into a prince’s lost-and-found, brimming with the other items Crowley has left and/or given him over the course of a few weeks. Books filled most of the shelves, a feather here, a vase of Imperial Snowdrops there, a constellation of gifts and memorabilia dotting the walls.

“Why not wear it?”

Aziraphale nearly dropped the ring in his hands. Has the alcohol gotten to him already? Aziraphale gave a (breathless) chuckle. “Sorry dear, I don’t think your ring would be a proper fit.” He gave a short demonstration, fitting the band and exhibiting how it stopped at the proximal joint of both his middle and ring finger.

Crowley protested to that immediately. “’course it will.” He gestured for the Angel to come closer and despite the warning signs, Aziraphale sighed and headed over anyways. Taking the Angel’s hand in his own, Crowley gave a bleary-eyed examination before plucking the ring, “Fits right…” and slipping it over Aziraphale’s pinky. “Here!” he deemed with a happy finality.

And it was a perfect fit.

Crowley sat back, looking so pleased with himself that Aziraphale could only answer with a mild, “Oh. I guess it does.” He examined the ring closer under the flickering firelight, fighting the urge to pull away from the warmth of Crowley’s hand still holding his.

It was a pale gold, unlike the dark, muted colors and vibrant reds that accentuated Crowley’s hair and eyes. It glittered, defining the details of a magnificent serpent sinking its fangs to the breast of a ferocious bird of prey. Aziraphale swallowed, suddenly feeling his mouth dry and cheeks flushed.

He looked up to find Crowley staring at him again. He seemed to be doing that quite often as of late.

“Right, then.” Aziraphale didn’t know what to make of the ring, the crest, and why Crowley wanted it on his finger, but he’ll keep it on to appease Crowley. He finally dropped his hand and Aziraphale scurried back to his desk, a pounding in his chest he could only attribute to the wine not pairing well with the fish he had earlier.

Thankfully, Crowley didn’t comment on the matter any further. Instead, what he did choose to comment on was much worse.

“Of course. I leave my feathers here after relaxing my poor, aching wings, and you use the primaries as—a quill?”

Aziraphale, paused, looking down, He was, indeed, using one of Crowley’s abandoned plumes as a quill. The Angel huffed. “You said to do what I want with them—especially after you begged me not to throw them out.” It wouldn’t do to have loose-lipped maids discovering that the prince was molting from finding the evidence in the trash and he couldn’t very well chuck them in the fireplace.

They were fireproof after all.

Crowley made a face. “I didn’t beg.”

It was Aziraphale’s turn to roll his eyes. “Right, dear. And I’m the one molting right now.”

“’m not molting!” he defended (rather poorly, in Aziraphale’s opinion). “’Just. Not acclimated to the weather here. That’s all.” He stretched the magnificent wings out, causing Aziraphale to startle at the large wingspan. “See? Does that look like a mess of molting to you?”

They weren’t. Either that, or Crowley was among the few birds that could molt gracefully without looking like a plucked chicken.  

Aziraphale bit back a smile. “No. I suppose not.” By the Queen herself, Crowley’s wings were gorgeous. Blacker than night, not a feather out of place despite how many he seemed to lose whenever he brought them out in Aziraphale’s quarters.

“Hey, Angel?” Aziraphale turned from his chair, glancing over to where Crowley was perched on the sofa. “Let’s see yours.”

Aziraphale wasn’t even aware he was making a face until Crowley pouted.

“C’mon give it a go. I’ve shown you mine already,” Crowley bargained. “It’s only fair.”

This time Aziraphale knew exactly what kind of face he was making. It was one that lead the petulant prince to pout at him.

The third little oddity—err, quirk he had noticed about his sample size of One, was that Demons could be…oddly affectionate.

At least, by Angel standards.

The sharing of feathers, the demand request to see his wings—

All quite…intimate things to do, but nothing out of the ordinary for close friends and families; a gift of feathers from one of a different flock was a declaration of forming new bonds, an act of adopting an outsider or joining as a family.

It made…for a strange warmth at the pit of Aziraphale’s belly and before it even fully registered, a flurry of white enclosed his peripheral vision.

They were smaller than Crowley’s. Not by much, mind you, but longer; he was made for gliding, soaring, rather than the wings of agile flyers like Crowley’s were.

And as such—they were also a terrible pain to preen.

“Don’t you ever take care of them?” Crowley gave a long once-over to each folded wing as he sat up. “Poor things look like they haven’t been groomed in ages.”

“Yes, well,” Aziraphale started, folding up his wings self-consciously. “I suppose it has been a while,” he murmured, tracing along a primary. Too long, really, since he’d had a partner to preen him. A partner to preen for. He beat back the unpleasant feeling as he cleared his throat. “I’m sure your staff keeps your wings well maintained, but not everyone—”

“They don’t.”

Aziraphale blinked. “Oh, but…” He stumbled. “Your family must—”

At that, Crowley gave a bitter laugh. “Pfft. Nah.” He gave a meaningful look to the Angel and his ruffled wings, and to his own, lovely pair. “I wouldn’t let them touch a feather.”

But whatever meaning it was, Aziraphale couldn’t understand.

 ..............................

Crowley didn’t know whether to thank his lucky stars or curse them to his kingdom and back for making the Angel so thick.

He’d watch on, unabashedly trailing his gaze from the way that soft, pink mouth opened and closed around every morsel of food, to the way his eyes fluttered shut, from way the Angel gave an enticing little wiggle as he savored each and every bite, to the polite and delicate way he dabbed at the corners of his mouth with the napkin.

The prince, with his food long forgotten, found that he’d much rather make a meal out of this delectable Angel instead.

Crowley never thought of himself as a glutton for punishment, but watching Aziraphale indulge and sigh in honeyed bliss gnawed at the chains of his control to not simply take the Angel by the hand and lead him somewhere nice, dark, and far away from prying ears just to hear what else Crowley could do to elicit such wanton sounds from that sweet, sweet mouth.

Crowley shook those thoughts from his head; it wouldn’t do well to be this aroused during one of their meetings. Not with Aziraphale insisting that he wear something a little too tight around the trousers—

—but ah those coy looks trailing over his form from the Angel himself was too difficult to ignore. Perhaps he’ll wear similar garb more often and hopefully speed up this entire ordeal of courting in the process.

And ordeal was putting it lightly.

Angels, from the sounds of it, needed far more reassurance of compatibility before initiating acts of courtship, hence why Aziraphale was there to give some insider-details of the Archangels’ follies and fancies. It absolutely would not do to initiate acts of courting without due introduction and shared interests.

Demons, however, tended to gauge all that through acts of courting.

It’s not uncommon for the two to share meals and outings together, even if it ended with Aziraphale giving him a tour of the kingdom. In the beginning, Crowley preferred those days the most since he gets to see Aziraphale in his most natural element: enjoying himself. But other times, the Guide’s sense of duty breaks through and Aziraphale will begin with such nonsense like “Oh Michael’s swordsmanship is legendary, but she has quite the affinity for spears as of late, so for a courting gift—” and other such useless topics. These were the times that regrettably reminded Crowley that he’s here to wed one of those wankers instead.

So, Crowley often deflected, steered the conversation away from unsavory waters, and navigated them towards more pleasant shores by innocently asking, “Right, good, but do you like the North’s dessert wines or do you prefer the South’s reds?”

Of course, Aziraphale will naturally start another hour or so lecture about why nothing beats the Southern reds.

And some nights, Aziraphale will find a nice bottle of Southern red and Crowley is duly repaid with a sunshine smile and his Angel in a happy mood the next day.

Using that same method, Crowley gathered all sorts of interests from the Principality; from his preferences of bygone authors and poets, to the locations of his favorite bouquets of rare Imperial Snowdrops, to which shops baked the sweetest cakes and other delicacies.

A fine ordeal, courting. But Crowley didn’t mind it.

When it came of official courtships, jewelry was traditional, but outright presenting them to the Angel was tricky; he couldn’t very well offer them as payment for his guidance and company as Aziraphale wasn’t took keen on adorning himself, save for a few choice items. So, Crowley did the next best thing: he took to leaving them in the Angel’s little nest instead. An armband here, a bracelet there, and Crowley chuckled at the memory of the Angel carefully wrapping his own diadem before presenting it back to the prince with a pinched look. My dear, I know you’re a bit scatterbrained, but please don’t leave such treasures in my room where I can be easily accused of stealing.

Let them know they’re gifts, Crowley strongly hinted suggested, but Aziraphale made that familiar downturn of his lips that let Crowley know that his “joke” wasn’t appreciated. He took back the headpiece and a few choice items. Obsidian blacks and bloody rubies were hardly Aziraphale’s style anyways.

Books, as scarce as they were in Hell, were Aziraphale’s favorite weakness. He’d never refuse such a rare gem for his collection, so Crowley had taken to sending requests from couriers with the implication that they were being utilized in the name of courtly love. And that was their designated purpose, but decidedly not in the way that would please the King, the next-in-line, nor the entirety of his own damned kingdom—but sharing that bit of information wasn’t necessary.

Wining and dining were a staple in all cultures across the lands, but it was especially appealing for Demons to seek a mate that could provide for them (and Crowley could, would, and was proving this aspect quite thoroughly) and it was nothing short of instinctively pleasing to know Crowley could nourish and sate his future mate to his heart’s content.

Not only that, but since food and drink were consumables, there’d be little evidence of the existence of said courting to point a finger at. Other Birds wouldn’t bat an eye if a prince went out to dine at expensive restaurants and demanded the finest of wines and liquor—oh, for him and his companion? Well he’s a prince after all, he can’t settle for anything less. It was perfect, really. Crowley’s preferred method of courting for this very reason.

Another bite of his meal and his Angel moaned, face enraptured, absolute ecstasy painting across his features. Crowley carefully adjusted himself in his seat.

Among other reasons.

By Crowley’s standards, his Bird was thoroughly courted—

But for better or worse, Aziraphale hadn’t noticed it at all. It seemed that they were on very separate wavelengths when it came to matters of the heart.

Which was really such a damned shame because Crowley, on the other hand, was growing restless and his senses going wild.

Wild in the sense that if he didn’t see Aziraphale at least once that day, his instincts itched and gnawed at him from the marrow of his bones to ensure Aziraphale’s safety; in the sense that he was becoming in tune with the Angel’s needs—It’s lunch time and he should be peckish by now, He’s brooding, Angels aren’t supposed to brood at least not mine something’s wrong and I need to fix it, He’s hardly sleeping and is probably up all night reading those novellas I sent him last week so maybe we should schedule our meeting later in the morning; in the sense that it drove him absolutely mad that he was not able to scent himself on Aziraphale—because if he can’t claim him, then anyone else could just as easily walk by and snatch his little Bird up—

Wild in that sense.

His thoughts were plagued with it and Crowley grew antsier by the day. There were some things he could intercede on behalf of his own sanity, at least.

Although he couldn’t very well scent Aziraphale’s form, his Bird’s little nest was helping soothe that ache. It was cluttered with shelves and collections upon collections of tomes, tales, diaries, and journals and most importantly— cluttered with things of Crowley.

His coats still hung by the rack, his pendant at the side of Aziraphale’s desk; wraps and cloths were strewn over by a chair, folded neatly on a shelf, inside a drawer that contained a variety of Aziraphale’s own outerwear, soft golds of bangles and rings tucked neatly away in a small chest within the trunk at the foot of Aziraphale’s bed—

Even his feathers.

The first time Crowley had been given entry to Aziraphale’s quarters, he was ever-so-fortunate that Aziraphale had been distracted with hunting down a bottle of fine wine to share when those bloody vestigial appendages popped from his back, leaving several feathers in its wake.

Crowley did the only thing one could do at the time—aside from panic: sprawl himself over the sofa and take a nice, big, stretch.

When Aziraphale returned with a vintage bottle, he gave one raised brow at the Demon. Making yourself comfortable, I see?

Crowley barely tilted his pillowed head from the outdated cushions. I’m trying but, this thing’s so ancient, it might disintegrate if so much as twitch.

(As a small aside, there was no way Hastur and Ligur believed him when he used his own coin to replace the battered old thing with something more opulent—something sturdier. All because the legs collapsed after Crowley gave one, hearty sneeze. They had sneered and mocked, rudely implicating that the causal activity likely had been a bit more rigorous to break the sofa.)

It seemed customary now; every time Crowley so much as set foot in Aziraphale’s nest, the night-black wings would manifest without fail. Crowley didn’t know if this was some sort of deeply rooted predisposition left over from their origins as Angels. He just hoped he wouldn’t find himself doing some idiotic mating dance next that consisted of flapping his useless wings around.

But Aziraphale didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he was being a bastard and teased him about his little molting issue.

Which it isn’t!

Crowley, please collect your feathers.

Daft bird. What am I going to do with my own feathers?

Well. what am I supposed to do with them?

Make a cozy pillow or something. Anything’s better than this stiff rock, he had said with a wide gesture to the array of cushions Crowley haphazardly displaced.

He’d meant for that to be a joke, but he quickly warmed to the mental image of Aziraphale curled up to a pillow made of his own down.

The Angel could say what he liked about the issue; so long as he finds use for those feathers. It just seemed. Right, somehow. Even if it was currently being utilized as a writing tool—delicately held in Aziraphale’s plump hands, well-manicured fingers tapping and twirling the plume, the absent-minded brush of the pen against his mouth as he contemplated something— Crowley wouldn’t complain.

In fact, he couldn’t say much of anything as he watched.  

.

Surprisingly, it was Aziraphale that took heed of the last little courting gesture. One that Crowley hadn’t even realized he’d been doing.

Since the little sofa incident, Hastur and Ligur had transitioned from merely ribbing him of the time he spent with Aziraphale to outright stalking them. Every so often, he’d catch a whiff of brimstone and find the pair staring back at him unabashedly. It made Crowley downright uneasy, knowing that they were tracking his movements, their activities.

Who knows what they’d report back to Hell…

Aziraphale was less perturbed by the whole thing. They’re your footmen, Crowley. Shouldn’t you be glad they’re actually doing their jobs for once?

But he relented under Crowley’s insistence that they meet at obscure areas and then head out for the day. Of course he had to deal with the Angel’s insistence that this is ludicrous! but Crowley won him over in the end.

He always does.

Getting Aziraphale to meet him at the designated destinations had been an ordeal of its own, however. It took quite a few trials and errors, but Crowley thought they had a pretty good system down by now. They’d already made four rendezvous points at this time, and it was going swimmingly—

Even if the Angel couldn’t remember between the bandstand (4th rendezvous point) and the national library storeroom (the 2nd).

Hastur and Ligur—as well as any other Demons that came aboard with him, were out of sight for the past week. Still, that did little to ease the anxiety slowly coalescing within him. He’d taken to surveying the area, half an ear attending to whatever his Angel was prattling on about, another honed on dark whispers, covert murmurs, and listening for telltale wheezy little laughs.

He didn’t know if Hastur and Ligur had more contacts, if people started talking and speculating about how much time he spent with this particular Angel. Sure, he can spin the tale justifiably since Aziraphale was ultimately his Guide to the kingdom, but sooner or later, people will be demanding results and progression towards his wooing to an Archangel and by then, Crowley will either need to have won Aziraphale over or—

“Crowley, could you please stop that?”

He startled, turning to the Angel. Aziraphale sighed and tugged him towards a quieter street and away from the throngs of people.

After taking a few lefts and the crowds walking by thinned down, Aziraphale forced the prince to look straight at him. He gave an annoyed huff, but there was no mistaking the worry in those stormy eyes. “You were making me dizzy.”

Crowley blinked. “What?”

There was a stern frown set upon the Angel’s lips now. “Did you even hear a word I was saying?”

A quick scan through rote memory and: “The musical. Yes. The Archangels will be there.” Right. That was why his Angel was wearing new attire: a coat, vest, and trousers of soft creams and off-whites—different from his usual robes. “You were showing me to the theater.”

Aziraphale nodded, suppressing a shudder. “Yes. The…Sound of Music.” He made a face like he had just sampled an under-seasoned cut of steak. “Gabriel’s favorite.”

Crowley grimaced. Ah. That. Archangel…romance-business.

“Yes; honestly not my favorite production but—there you go again!” Aziraphale gestured about him. “Kettling as we speak—”

“Kettling,” Crowley spat, heavily in denial though he halted his movements and…was altogether unsure exactly how he went from being right in front of Aziraphale to standing just by his left. Right. “Ridiculous—”

His Guide shot him an exasperated look. “Circling, then. Stop it, you’re making me feel like—prey.” Aziraphale raised a brow at the convulsion of emotions that just flashed through the prince’s face. “Crowley, is everything all right?”

The prince snorted, none-too-delicately. “Fine. Just…fine.” Prey?

For Go—Sa—for someone’s sake.

He really didn’t get it, did he?

“No, not just, Crowley,” Aziraphale started, patiently. “You’ve been acting all out of sorts for the past few weeks. It’s been worrying me.”

Crowley fought back a wince. “It’s—”

Nothing, really. I’m just upset and bloody hormonal because I can’t scent you, I can’t mark you, I can’t let anyone know you’re mine, and now I’m paranoid that my own men are going to turn against me because I’ve went and decided that I’m simply gone for you.

But obviously, he couldn’t say all that. Not now. Not yet. “The, uh. Situation’s finally gotten to me, is all.” Crowley gave a swallow at the confused look on the Angel’s face. “I’m not used to it. The responsibility. It makes me...anxious,” he ended.

“Oh dear…” Bless—curse this Bird for his cloud-puff soft heart and pleading eyes. “I thought you were adjusting so well.”

“Not your fault, Angel,” Crowley muttered. “New territory, too. Being in Heaven, that is. Can’t help but feel uneasy.”

Tentatively, Aziraphale reached for arm and Crowley wanted to take his hands again, just like that night under the stars weeks ago. Instead, Crowley let it hang limp as the Angel gave a comforting pat.

“My dear, I may not have my sword anymore, but you needn’t worry.” He gave a small, encouraging smile. “I promise to protect you.”

At that tender declaration, Crowley’s brain temporarily short circuited, causing him to trip over his own two feet.

“Crowley!”

That felt like final nail in the coffin: he’s so deep in love to the point it’s physically ruining him and his reputation.

.............................................

Crowley was late. Again.

And when Crowley was late, it never ended very well for Aziraphale and his best-laid plans.

“Well, well.” A Demon stood before him, blocking entrance from the West Wing where Crowley and the rest of his legion resided. Dark hair and complexion with fiery eyes. Ligur.  

“If it isn’t the Guide,” another called out from behind the Angel, effectively blocking the exit. An unnatural pallor framing dark, dark eyes; Hastur, then.

Aziraphale had no time for this. He cleared his throat. “Hello, gentlemen. Is Prince Crowley ready?”

He turned to see Ligur shoot a knowing smile to his companion. “Off to another affair?” he asked, ignoring Aziraphale’s question entirely. Okay. Fine.  

The Angel decided to play along. “We’re meeting in regards to the progression of—”

“Right, right…” Hastur muttered dismissively. He inched closer to the Angel with a toothy grin. “Say, he is wooing an Archangel, right?”

Aziraphale tried very hard not to give him a look that would have implied insult to his intelligence. “Yes, of course. That’s what I’m here for—”

“Just making certain that things are going according to plan,” Ligur assured with a complacent smile.

Yet something behind that tone made Aziraphale think twice about his intentions. “Yes. No hitches or road bumps,” Hastur added with a smirk at the way the Angel stiffened as he came up behind him.

“No…distractions,” Ligur added with an intimidating step forward.

Oh dear.

No wonder Crowley preferred spending time over at Aziraphale’s quarters if this was what he had to put up with. He nodded primly despite his mounting annoyance. “Quite right, gentlemen. I’m sure you’ll be relieved to know that things are progressing as expected, and that the Prince will be meeting with Archangel—”

“Oh good, good.” Ligur gave another shared smile with his Demonic mate. “Delightful to hear.”

“Yes,” Hastur nodded perceptively. “Especially since the prince has been exhibiting, well,” he gave a vague gesture. “You know…”

“Hastur,” his companion admonished with a scheming grin. “Careful, now. We wouldn’t want word to get out.”

That gave Aziraphale pause. “Word?” Was something wrong with Crowley? “Exhibiting what, exactly?”

Hastur gave a mocking gasp. “Oh, you haven’t noticed?”

“The prince has been exhibiting a few…peculiar behaviors of late, hasn’t he?” Ligur prodded.

Before Aziraphale could refute, deny, or even concede, Hastur answered for him. “Indeed, he has. Tell me, Bird,” he said, turning to Aziraphale with a blade-sharp smile. “Do you know how Demons court?”

Aziraphale didn’t know what to make of that question; it certainly never crossed his mind that courting differed between their two kingdoms. “I’m sure just the same as anyone else.” After all, love was Her creation. It shouldn’t vary so much…

Right?

Ligur gave a thoughtful hum, kettling—but this time, leaving Aziraphale feeling exactly like prey. “Not exactly. Not how you Birds court.” His eyes flashed with humor. “No preamble, no pussyfooting. Straight to the meat of the matter, as it were.”

“The courting itself is a means of gauging compatibility,” Hastur added, circling clockwise to his partner’s counter. “Gifts, usually food and jewelry.” He gave a pointed look to the ring on Aziraphale’s finger. “And other preferences,” he added with a furtive smirk.

The tartan bowtie Aziraphale had eyed yesterday at a shop and found neatly packaged in the middle of his bed suddenly felt tight around Aziraphale’s throat.  

Were they implying—

No. That’s…that can’t be, that’s—

Preposterous.

They must be messing with him. Playing him for a sucker. Ugh. It was no wonder Crowley could barely tolerate their presence. They were proving exceedingly poor company. Still, Aziraphale plastered on a placid smile. “Well! Then it seems our sessions have been fruitful!” His smile widened as the two paused in their movements, a few inches away from a full-on collision. “Crowley is ready to court, it would seem.”

There was a cruel smile etched on Ligur’s face. “Oh, I do believe you’re right, Angel.”

Aziraphale didn’t outwardly flinch. It was the same word Crowley had repeatedly called him; it was what he was, an Angel of the Queen, down to his very core of being. Yet somehow, it sounded so wrong coming from this Demon’s lips.

And he really didn’t want to stay there any longer. “Right. In that case, with the air cleared, please let me through. I do believe we’re running a tad behind schedule now.”

Hastur pulled to the side, the maw of the West Wing entrance left open to him. “By all means, don’t let us keep you.”

Aziraphale gave curt nod of thanks before heading off.

“Yes, and oh,” Ligur called after him. “Send Prince Crawley our best wishes.”

At that, Aziraphale stopped. He swiveled around and marched straight towards the grinning pair. He shook his head. “Goodness, what a noisy lot you are. And to address your prince as such?” He crossed his arms, a bite of authority in his tone. They may be guests but that didn’t mean they had free reign to do as they pleased. “Have you no tact? We’re all working on the same side, here! And your prince is making a noble effort for peace. That ought to deserve some respect from his men.”

At that, the façade cracked, even for just a second. “The same side,” Ligur sneered. “What do you think this is about, hm?” He took a step forward, surprised to find that Aziraphale held little to no fear in his eyes. “Have you no brains, little Bird?” Merely contempt.

“Leave him be,” Hastur admonished. “He’ll find out soon enough.”

The Angel wisely paid little heed to that statement; probably another taunt to rile him up again. “Hmph.” Aziraphale narrowed his eyes but turned all the same. “I bid you two gentlemen a good night.”

“Good night, Principality Aziraphale,” Ligur intoned with a mocking, sweeping bow.

The pair watched as the Angel made his way through the halls and to the Prince’s quarters, his footsteps echoing all the while.

Then, somewhere in the distance, an echoed, “Oh. Angel! You’re here already?”

“Yes, we need to be there by dusk, I told you this already!”

“Ah, right, right…”

Hastur gave a raspy chuckle. “Rather feisty, isn’t he?” There was a cruel upturn of his lips. “I can see why Prince Crawley has his eye on him.”

.

The carriage ride to the theater was a silent one. Mostly because Crowley was sulking at the prospect of spending the next few hours listening to inane singing, earworm-inducing tunes, and approaching yet another Archangel by his own Angel’s design.

For Aziraphale, the ride over was a rather pensive one.

He couldn’t help but replay their words, blood burning beneath his skin at their blatant disrespect and insinuations. But…that disconcerting meeting might have given Aziraphale insight and an answer to all of Crowley’s strange behavior.

But was it true? Was Crowley truly exhibiting courtship behaviors?

Was he ready to take the next step?

He couldn’t tell for sure. After all, Crowley was right in saying that his footmen were a wretched bunch, though they were lenient enough to let him do he pleased so long as he got himself out of trouble. Aziraphale knew that logically, he shouldn’t pay heed to them. Surely, Aziraphale would notice by now if Crowley had been showing signs of interest, signs of love—

He was a Principality, after all.

“Penny for your thoughts, Angel?” Aziraphale turned to see Crowley, once more slumped over in his seat. Goodness, can’t he sit straight for once?

“Careful, dear,” Aziraphale warned with a smile. “In for a penny, in for a pound, as they say.”

He gave a teasing grin. “Brooding, then?”

“What—no,” Aziraphale assured. “Just. Reflective.”

Crowley nodded. “Ah. So you are brooding.” He gave a chuckle at the derisive snort he received in turn. Golden eyes flickered from the Angel’s face to his vestments. “You’re wearing it, I see.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale straightened the bow with a pleased smile. “Yes, it’s lovely. Thank you.”

Crowley cleared his throat. “Think nothing of it. I think I did the tailor a favor, taking that thing off his hands. Really, Angel? Tartan?”

“It’s stylish,” Aziraphale countered. “And I adore it.”

An indulgent smile made its way to Crowley’s lips as he leaned back in his seat, looking quite accomplished with himself.

Aziraphale nearly let out a gasp.

It finally clicked into place. The gifts, the food, the books--! It all made so much sense now. And Aziraphale was frustrated that he couldn’t see it sooner. That he couldn’t help Crowley sooner.

Crowley was obviously exhibiting courtship behaviors to see how Aziraphale would react to it! That way he could gauge how an Angel would respond to the practices before displaying them in front of his intended Archangel!

It was brilliant, really! The marriage of two cultures shouldn’t just be Crowley forced into the traditions of Angels, but a collaboration between two courtship efforts!

It was…decidedly odd. But Crowley was an imaginative and decidedly odd Demon to begin with.

Still… Aziraphale thought. Practice…for courtship?

It was beyond odd—it was mad. But perhaps it’s just imaginative enough to work.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Aziraphale: Pure of heart. Dumb of ass. I’m sorry, Crowley. The light in your sky, the love of your life, is a moron.

Shout out to Binging with Babish’s “Jurassic Park’s Chilean Sea Bass” recipe.  

Also vultures, do not in fact, circle their prey.

I am so sorry for this mess lmao

#good omens #ineffable husbands #top crowley #bottom aziraphale #crowley x aziraphale

[ineffable-endearments]

“Don’t say that.”

Aziraphale, at the Globe, after Crowley first calls the Arrangement what it is:

“Don’t say that.”

Aziraphale doesn’t want to give the Arrangement a name. Naming the Arrangement both acknowledges that there is another specific set of rules they’re loyal to, and also implies that it’s an ongoing thing.

Why is this a problem? For one thing, Aziraphale is supposed to be loyal to Heaven’s specific set of rules - the Great Plan. By naming the Arrangement, they’re challenging Aziraphale’s loyalty to Heaven on a rhetorical level rather than just an incidental level. It adds another duty instead of being something Aziraphale can pursue “off-duty.” It changes his self-perception (which is already a difficult issue for Aziraphale) from “angel who sometimes bends the rules in a way that doesn’t technically break them” to “angel who always has multiple loyalties.”

In truth, Aziraphale doesn’t like every choice Heaven makes, but he does think they know what they’re doing, he does think he has a responsibility to them...and he is afraid of them.

We also know that language/rhetoric matters to Aziraphale possibly more than to the average person.

Also of great importance to Aziraphale is the fact that naming the Arrangement would also rewrite Crowley’s supposed loyalty to Hell, and as Aziraphale explains, this is life-threatening for Crowley. Crowley is no longer just being a bit disobedient on occasion. He’s actively committing treason against a brutal dictatorship.

Crowley, in the Bastille, after Aziraphale says “I suppose I should say thank you”:

“Don’t say that.”

Similarly to naming the Arrangement, saying “thank you” would officially label Crowley’s deed as a Good Deed, which is dangerous for him.

However, I do not think this is actually an immediate danger (they’re alone in a frozen moment of time, after all). It’s interesting that Crowley is the one who wants to name the Arrangement, which is equally if not more dangerous than accepting responsibility for one tiny good deed, but won’t accept a minimally-risky “thank you.”

I think instead of actively worrying after his own safety in this very moment, he may be sort of asking Aziraphale to accept that Crowley has no choice but to do his job. This exchange happens right after Aziraphale asks if he’s responsible for all the violence here in France because Crowley received (and accepted) a commendation for it. Crowley is basically saying “yeah I took that commendation for all these people getting beheaded because my bosses require me to be Bad and I’d be dead if I didn’t.”

This also explains why Crowley has that sort of patiently-indulgent look on his face 225 years later at the former site of St. Beryl’s when Aziraphale just outright says “thank you.” There is actually a HUGE amount of baggage behind that tiny phrase, and he’s a bit emotional about it, but knows Aziraphale means well, as he did when he offered a “thank you” in the Bastille.

The two “Don’t say that” incidents highlight differences between the characters and some of the main conflicts that have to be resolved between them. Aziraphale is caught up in the Grand Scheme of Things, with torn loyalties as well as anxiety about what is going to preserve Crowley in the long run. He doesn’t see their situations changing safely and believes they need to steal what moments they can from within the framework of the rules that have been set by the Great Plan. Trying to go against the Great Plan, he thinks, will get them annihilated. He sees no choice but to obey and to choose to be optimistic about believing the whole thing will end up working out for the best, since the only alternatives are death or eternal misery.

Crowley, on the other hand, is concerned about what’s going on immediately between the two of them. He believes that as two individuals rather than parts of two collectives, they can definitely outsmart Heaven and Hell, and only cares about Aziraphale being able to accept him for who he is.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #ineffable partners #ineffable spouses #good omens spoilers

[itsyaboiwritersblock]

Beauty and the Beast

Pairing(s): Crowley x Female Human Reader

Rating: G

Warnings: Language, Slow Burn Fluff

Words: 2,541

Genre: Fluff, so much fluff, Angst

Part two of: “Won’t Say I’m in Love”

@antmnwasp @pantaxbal

I do not own the GIFs, characters, or song

The song is “Beauty and the Beast” from the movie “Beauty and the Beast”

The sound of an amused chuckle broke the silence that seemed to blanket the small bookshop, though one of the occupants didn’t seem amused in the slightest, while the other couldn’t wipe the smirk off of his face. The demon had just start talking about the experience he had the night before at {Y/N}’s house, and the angel obviously wasn’t going to hide how he felt, even though smug didn’t really fit him at all. Crowley cursed himself, an unusual flush of embarrassment dusted his cheeks as he glared at a book, debating on chucking it at the angel while he thought back to how this had happened.

“How is our {Y/N} doing? I’ve been meaning to meet up with her as she’s been asking to borrow a book from my personal collection and I still need to give it to her. And now I simply must thank her for those delightful cookies she baked!”

“I can give her the book tonight if you would like, she suggested we have a movie night, so I. . . I invited her over to my flat.”

Crowley muttered the last part of that sentence, eyes, currently not hidden behind his usual sunglasses, stared at the floor. It was clear that he didn’t want to admit that fact because he could already guess Aziraphale’s reaction, and he didn’t want to meet it head on. At all.

On the angel’s face was the smuggest grin he could muster, which was actually impressive, well, Crowley thought it was impressive considering the angel’s too pure history. 

“You two are getting awfully close. One might think that you fancy her, perhaps, more than a friend?’

“I’m a demon! Demons don’t do more than friends! I don't know what you’re talking about, besides she’s a human. . . Like a human could be worthy of loving a demon!”

“Oh please, Crowley! You have a lot of strengths but hiding what you want isn't one of them. Demons really don't do subtle, do they? Personally, I think your little crush on her is quite adorable.”

Aziraphale grinned, raising his mug of hot chocolate to his lips as he listened to Crowley sputter and struggle for the right words.

“I’m not. . . ! Demons are. . . ! Adorable? Really, Angel?”

“This is really unlike you Crowley, getting all flustered over a human? How scandalous! What will He- er. . . Your side think?”

The angel seemed concerned for just a second before he went back to his smug expression, proud that he, an angel, he could crack a demon such as Crowley.

“First of all, I’m not flustered. I’m fine, I don't know what you’re talking about. Second, Hell doesn't care about me anymore, so I doubt they'll really try to track me down if I did something like fall in love with a human. If. Anyway, Angel, I really must be going. {Y/N} would have a fit if I’m late to a get together at my flat.”

Aziraphale watched as Crowley abruptly stood from his seat across from the angel and marched right of the bookshop. Unknown to the angel though, Crowley was lying through his teeth when he said that Hell wouldn't come after him for loving a human. He was sure Hastur or Beelzebub were already aware of what he really felt for his Dove. That was one of the main reasons why he didn’t want to admit he caught feelings for the human, he didn’t want to put her in any sort of danger. Another thing was that he knew what happened when two people had mutual feelings for each other. They got together and spent the rest of their lives with each other. The thing was, she would be spending the rest of her life with him. He would be forced to watch her grow old, sick, and deteriorate, and part of him pleaded to avoid her so he can spare himself of that pain.

As Crowley was moping around in his thoughts, he had realized that he had arrived his flat, as he wasn't really paying attention to his driving, rather paying attention to his intrusive thoughts. And as much as he didn’t want to admit it, they were beginning to win. Did deserve to go through the pain that was loving a demon? She was such a blessing to him that he didn't want to imagine her going through any sort of pain, especially inflicted by him. 

That was his worst nightmare, well, it would be if demons had nightmares, let alone had dreams at all.

With a worried glance, he glanced up at his clock that seemed to betray him when it read that it was only half an hour until four. Half an hour until {Y/N} would be arriving. He didn't know why he was panicking, if he couldn't get everything ready, he could just miracle it into place last minute. It wasn't like he hadn't done it before, even though a certain angel warned him that it wasn't a good practice, using miracles for small everyday things that could be done by hand.

Time seemed to fly because in no time, he heard a very faint knocking at his flat door. Once he heard that noise, he took a deep breath, hoping to all that was holy, well, unholy, that this would go without any bumps. That he wouldn't screw it up, because he’d hate to lose {Y/N}, even if being around her brings back the pain of not being able to have her. He’d rather have her with someone else and safe than with him and in danger.

“Crowley! Thank you for inviting me over, again, I was really surprised when you agreed to watch a movie with me. Especially a princess movie!”

{Y/N} greeted with a bright smile, stepping into his flat when Crowley moved out of the doorway, watching her surprised expression. The real thing clearly didn't match what she was envisioning a couple minutes prior.

“It’s no big deal, besides, all I already told you that I was a sucker for sweet things.”

He replied effortlessly with a wink, and he couldn't really catch himself before he replied. Of course, going along with his cheeky nature when he replied was normal for him, so he knew that trying to block that might be a little difficult. Demons were known for having little self control, and this little interaction showed it.

“Oh, and are those sweet things just movies or. . .”

{Y/N} giggled in a flirty whisper, standing on her tiptoes to stare at Crowley behind his sunglasses the best he could. Immediately, the demon pulled back, not used to his Dove acting so forward. And instead of going along with his instincts, he pulled back and turned away from her.

“Yep. Mainly just movies I’m afraid.”

{Y/N} watched with a heartbroken yet confused expression as her friend walked over to his large couch and practically fell on it, glancing at her like nothing had just happened. Like he hadn't rejected her quicker than he rejected new cars.

“Oh, well, uhm. . . Let me just put the movie in and we can start right away! I brought one of my favorites!”

She plastered on a fake smile and popped the disk into the player before sitting down next to Crowley on the couch. Well, next to was an overstatement, Crowley was practically hugging the right arm and {Y/N} was debating on sitting on the left arm, both determined to put as much space as they could between each other.

The movie started as the two remained silent, the only noise being the live action version of the classic playing on the rather large television. It remained this way for awhile, but it was actually Crowley that broke the silence.

“This character, uh, Belle is it? She’s an absolute idiot! The town’s most eligible bachelor is throwing himself at her and she’s shrugging him off like she won’t be forced to marry someone like him anyway!”

Crowley groaned, but he seemed to be grinning as he complained about the first few minutes of the film.

“It’s supposed to be about her being independent! Don't ruin it with accuracies!”

{Y/N} giggled from her side of the couch, rolling her eyes at the antics of her friend as he just continued to spout off about how much of a catch Gaston really was. As much as she wanted to scoff and laugh at him, he had a point. Gaston’s actor was pretty good looking.

It was at that point that Crowley had scooted a little closer to the middle of the couch.

“So. . . Her mother is dead, her father is the town crazy, and she’s the only woman in the village that can read?”

“Yes! I don't understand why that's so hard to see!”

Crowley couldn't help but give a soft laugh at {Y/N}’s small rant, now noticing that she herself was closer to the middle compared to where she was at the start of the movie.

“You never fail to make me smile, Dove.”

“You never fail to make me absolutely crazy, Crowley!”

She managed to get out between her fits of laughter, and although she couldn't see, Crowley’s eyes were brightening at the sound of it. Maybe this movie night was a good idea after all.

The rest of the movie passed the same way, Crowley making a comment about something he didn't like or didn't understand and immediately {Y/N} would defend the film, though not without having a chuckle or two. And as the movie continued to play and the two continued to watch, either they didn't notice or didn't comment on it, but by the halfway point, the two were sitting side by side, {Y/N}’s head resting gently on his shoulder.

“Oh my Go- gosh. . . Don't tell me they’re going to sing again! This is like, what, the hundredth song?”

“Hush your whining, Crowley this is the best part!”

{Y/N} lectured him from her spot beside him as she watched with wide eyes, already anticipating the most known song of the film. The two did share a name, so it was only that more memorable.

“Tale as old as time. True as it can be.”

The woman felt her breath hitch as she watched the two main characters slowly dance in each other’s arms, wishing she could, too, feel a warm embrace from someone she loved. Meanwhile, Crowley was fake gagging, but on the inside, he was panicking. Why in the hell did she have to pick such a sappy romance movie! It just made everything for him worse!

“Barely even friends. Then somebody bends unexpectedly.”

Of course that lyric had to apply to them. It just had to! Crowley cursed himself for agreeing to this, as he really didn't know what he was getting into when he said yes. But his nervous rambling was broken by an awkward chuckle from the woman with her head on his shoulder.

“Ah, too bad love in real life isn't that easy. . . Right, Crowley?”

“Nothing is ever easy in this dammed world, Dove. Especially love.”

{Y/N} couldn't help but smile at his answer, her eyes darting back to the screen, and she had assumed that Crowley had done the same. But instead, his focus was still on his Dove.

“All little scared, neither one prepared. Beauty and the Beast.”

He couldn't help but hate those lyrics too, as he felt like he just kept getting called out during this dammed song. Beauty and the Beast? It wasn't hard to make the connection there. {Y/N} was fiery but delicate, a beauty he couldn't ever obtain. While Crowley was a beast that was meant to remain hidden.

“Crowley. . .”

The soft call of his name caught his attention as he looked down and saw those wide {e/c} eyes he had fallen in love with, melting his cold exterior even further.

“Yes, Dove?”

“Finding you can change. Learning you were wrong.“

“Stop fighting yourself.”

Crowley stared at her for a moment, mouth agape, completely taken aback by what she had just said. What did she mean, though? She couldn't mean. . .

“Tale as old as time. Song as old as rhyme.”

“Dove I-”

“Stop fighting, Crowley.”

“Beauty and the Beast.”

Crowley blinked for a moment, still trying to wrap his head around what his human was saying. But his thoughts scattered as soon as he felt a much softer pair of lips press against his own. His eyes immediately blew wide, but his instincts and wants took over, his lanky arms wrapping around her waist to gently hoist her into his lap.

“Oh, Dove. . .”

He mumbled, disappointed in himself at the thought he could fight something so tempting. It was funny, him a demon, the king at tempting, trying to fight against the most tempting prize of all. Love. {Y/N} smiled softly against his lips, pushing herself upward, eyes fluttering close. Her hands ran into his perfect hair, the want she had to mess it up and play with it was finally fulfilled as she just rested her hands there. After a small moment, a hand strayed from his red hair and fell on his chin, while Crowley’s hands remained on her hips, tracing small circles with his thumbs.

Crowley was convinced this was what pure bliss was like. That nothing could ruin the moment.

And then he felt her take off his sunglasses.

Instantly, Crowley had shoved her away, trying to scramble and get them back, but the damage was already done when she opened her eyes in surprise and stared into the eye’s of a snake.

“Crowley. . . Crowley what the hell-”

“Get out.”

He forced himself to say, turning his gaze away from her as he couldn't deal with seeing the pain he had just caused her from that phrase alone.

“What?”

“I said. . . Get out!”

He snapped, standing up from the couch in an instant, but gaze still avoiding {Y/N} because just hearing her cry was tearing at his heart. He knew he couldn't stand seeing it. He knew he would break and ask her to stay, but he couldn't do that. Instead, he waited for that telltale sound of his flat door slamming shut before he stared at the spot his Dove sat in moments before.

“I’m such a monster. . . A selfish monster.”

He growled to himself, picking up the remote before chucking it across the room in a fit of anger, listening to the distant sound of it shattering and the batteries rolling everywhere.

“My my my, wasn't that dramatic. Always knew you had a flare for making a scene, Crowley.”

Crowley didn't get scared. Demons didn't get scared. But hearing that voice, that annoyingly buzzy voice, struck fear into the heart of even the most daring and brave demons. 

“Beelzebub. . .”

That was the only thing he said, turning around, yellow eyes wide and full of fear as he stared at his superior who was just a couple of feet in front of him.

“Crowley, I think you and I are due for a little chat.”

NOTE: Y’all I’m so sorry this took so long! I really hope it lived up to your expectations and I’ll see you next time! Thanks for reading!

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