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lady-divine-writes · 4 years

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More than Words ... but They're Nice Anyway (Rated PG)

Summary: Aziraphale is distressed when Crowley won't admit to saying 'I love you' ... even though he's been saying it for weeks. (1559 words)

Read on AO3.

“I love you.”

“What?” Aziraphale looks up from his plate of crepes and across the table at Crowley busy buttering his slice of toast and, by all outward appearances, paying Aziraphale absolutely no mind.

“Hmm?” Crowley mutters, setting his first slice aside and starting on his second.

“Wh---what did you say?”

“When?”

“Just now?” Aziraphale glances around the dining room on the off chance someone else is about, maybe hiding in the shadows.

Someone who … loves him?

“Would you please pass the marmalade?” Crowley asks, extending a hand.

Aziraphale’s brow crinkles, curious how in the world he heard I love you if Crowley asked for the marmalade. None of those words sound even remotely alike!

“Yes,” Aziraphale says, handing the marmalade jar across the table. “Of course.”

“Thanks.”

“Is … is that what you said?”

“When?”

Aziraphale sighs in exasperation. “Just now?”

“Yeah. Why?” Crowley’s eyes meet Aziraphale’s. “Did you hear something else?”

Aziraphale holds Crowley’s gaze several long minutes before he decides he’s being ridiculous. Crowley has never exactly been shy about any of his feelings. If he loved Aziraphale, he’d simply come out and say it.

Obviously, that’s not the case here.

“No,” Aziraphale lies, returning to his crepes, his appetite gone. “No, I … I heard nothing.”

***

“I love you.”

“Wh-what!?” Aziraphale yelps, fighting to be heard over pedestrians screaming in terror as Crowley squeals around a corner and jettisons straight into traffic.

“What?” Crowley returns. “What was that?”

Aziraphale white knuckles the dash harder than required for him to keep his seat, frustrated that this volley of words above the screeching of rubber must continue since Crowley refuses to slow down and drive safely enough to engage in normal conversation.

“What … did … you … say?” Aziraphale asks through gritted teeth.

“Oh.” Crowley’s brow furrows, his eyes glued to the road as he maneuvers between cars, nearly clipping the curb when he passes a rather large lorry on the wrong side. “I said hold onto your seat. The ride’s about to get bumpy.”

Aziraphale shoots Crowley a side-long look. ‘That’s not what he said!’ he thinks. ‘That’s nowhere near what he said!’ Even if he didn’t say what Aziraphale thinks he said, he only spoke three words. Not that Aziraphale was facing him directly. He doesn’t take his eyes off the road for a second when Crowley drives in case he needs to miracle some poor innocent out of the road. Aziraphale caught Crowley’s lips move in the reflection of the rearview.

But his sleuthing gets knocked clear of his thoughts when Crowley veers to the left, throwing Aziraphale across the seat and into the door. Aziraphale swallows hard, pushing down the heart that’s lodged in his throat ready to propel itself out his mouth and escape this demonic death trap.

“I’m sorry but … it’s a bit … too late … for that … my dear.”

***

“I love …”

“What?” Aziraphale rounds in front of Crowley, stopping him in his tracks. “What is it you’re going to say? And be honest now! Because if you’re not saying what I think you’re saying, I might just be going insane!”

Crowley blinks behind dark lenses at the white fire glowing in the angel’s blue eyes despite them being outdoors in the afternoon and surrounded by humans. “I … I was about to say …”

“Yes?” Aziraphale leans in aggressively, forcing Crowley back a step.

“… that I love walking through the park with you. Reminds me of old times. The good old times, anyway.” Crowley pauses, waits for a response. He grows uncomfortable in the silence under the scrutiny of Aziraphale’s piercing glare. “You know, before we knew that feeding ducks bread was bad for them?”

Aziraphale huffs at Crowley’s attempt at humor, but only slightly. “Are you certain,” he says, enunciating each word carefully, “that that’s what you were going to say?”

“Yes?” Crowley replies unconvincingly, and with the addition of an emphatic nod. “That’s exactly what I was going to say. Why? Is there something the matter?”

His answer infuriates Aziraphale, deep down to his core.

A joke!

He’s treating this like a joke!

How can he be so cruel?

He’s a demon, yes, but this isn’t just run-of-the-mill evil.

It’s Evil.

There’s a great many things Aziraphale can stand Crowley joking about, but not this. He’s about to tell him that, too, in no uncertain terms; give him a lecture he won’t likely soon forget. But when Crowley offers the angel his arm in a gentlemanly fashion and knocks him a little bow, it topples Aziraphale’s defenses.

Aziraphale can’t fault Crowley for his feelings … or lack thereof.

He can’t be angry at him because his pride is bruised.

He takes the offered arm and winds his through.

“No, my dear,” Aziraphale says, returning to his place at Crowley’s side, matching his steps when they start strolling again. “Nothing at all.”

Aziraphale breathes in deep and exhales slow. He’s not being fair. He doesn’t know that Crowley doesn’t love him. If he didn’t love him, would he have begged him to go off to the stars as often as he did? And if that’s the case, Aziraphale doesn’t need the words if they’re what Crowley means to say. He and Crowley are supernatural entities. Their thoughts and emotions can’t be measured on the scale of common, human words. Why, he’d heard a passage in a charming older movie Tracy made him watch that explains it perfectly.

“Words, words, they're all used up, they're hard to say. They've all been wasted on the shampoo commercials, and the ads, and the flavorings. All the beautiful words. I mean, how can you love a floor wax? How can you love a diaper? How can I use the same word about you that someone else uses about a stuffing? I'm exploding with love for you and I can't use the word!”

And he was right. The distinguished older man with the unfortunately large nose who recited those words was right. What he and Crowley have goes beyond words – especially mortal words. No need for those overused and abused words!

I love you? Who needs them!? Not him! Not at all!

But once, he thinks with a heavy heart as he squeezes Crowley closer, just once … it would be so nice to hear them.

***

“Explain to me again – what are you taking me to see? Because I don’t think I understand.”

“It’s called Sixty Second Hamlet,” Crowley explains for the fifth time but with the same giddy chuckle as the first.

“So, we’re driving to a theater over two hours away to watch a performance of Hamlet that’s only a minute long?”

“Yup! And it’s worth every mile, I’ll tell you that! Someone finally figured out a way to make that damned play a helluva lot less dreary. Just wait till you see it! You’re gonna love it!”

And there’s that word, hanging in the air, directed at something other than him. And as much as he swore to himself that he wouldn’t let it bother him … it bothers him.

“Crowley?”

“Yes, angel?”

Aziraphale hangs back a step as Crowley leads him to his car, giving himself enough time and space to say what he needs to say before they go any further. Not just for now and not just for today, but for every day forward. “Before we do anything, I … I wanted to say something.”

Crowley stops with his hand on the door handle and turns around. “Yes?”

“I …” Aziraphale looks at the demon in front of him – six-plus-feet of conceit and ego and swagger that, despite himself, Aziraphale can’t see ever getting over if he lost him. Sure, they don’t need the words. But he wants the words. And if he’s the only one willing to say them then … so be it. “I love you.”

The blank expression that answers that declaration downright terrifies Aziraphale. If Crowley were human, Aziraphale swears he’d expect him to turn tail and run, leave his Bentley behind in favor of a swifter, more expedient exit on foot. Being the insufferable demon he is, he doesn’t react - not for a while. But then he grins ever so slowly, clapping his hands together in delight. “Finally!”

Aziraphale’s head jerks, taken aback by that response. “What? What do you mean finally?”

“I’ve been saying I love you for weeks, but I couldn’t get you to say it back!”

Aziraphale’s lower jaw drops of its own accord. “But … but I … I thought I was imagining it! When I asked you to repeat it, you’d say something else!”

“Because you looked so confused. A few times, you looked angry. I thought that maybe you … you know … didn’t want to hear me say …”

“Hear you say … what?” Aziraphale fishes.

Crowley’s triumphant grin becomes softer, fonder. “I love you.”

Aziraphale nods. He’s fighting not to smile. After everything Crowley has put him through, he doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

But he’s losing.

“You’re quite the idiot,” he says, his lips twitching uncontrollably at the corners. “You know that, don’t you?”

“Maybe.” Crowley steps away from his car and wraps his arms around Aziraphale’s waist. “But I’m your idiot. And there’s no getting rid of me now.”

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #ineffable husbands #anthony j crowley #aziraphale #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #Frankie writes

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eiressofinspirationwrites · 5 years

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Imitation

Pairing: Crowley x Gender Neutral Reader

Word Count: 1589

Requested: Yes; Anonymous

Description: After watching Crowley for quite some time you decide to try your hand at imitating his style in hopes of boosting your own confidence. Seems like a foolproof plan considering how confidently Crowley carries himself all the time. Things don’t go as planned.

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

“Alright,” you muttered to yourself as you stood outside a boutique, which was slightly more upscale than the ones you normally frequented, “you can do this. It’s not going to be that bad. It’s just clothes shopping.”

You took a deep breath to steel yourself for the process you were about to undertake. You squared your shoulders and strode into the store as confidently as you could.

Or at least that’s what you had intended to do…

“Shit!” you cursed as you stumbled forward, limbs flailing as you tried to steady yourself.

“Careful!” you heard a voice exclaim and a split second later you were surprised when they caught your arm to keep you from face planting.

“I am so sorry,” you apologized as an angry blush spread across your face.

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” your rescuer, a young lady, reassured you, “People trip over that little step all the time. I’ve had to catch three people already this morning.”

“That’s one way to make a good first impression,” you joked awkwardly fidgeting with your hands, “Save someone from busting their head open on the floor.”

“Works wonders to boost my sales,” the woman smiled, “They’re so grateful and/or embarrassed they feel obligated to buy stuff.”

“Well that’s good,” you nodded and then fell silent, unsure of what to say next.

“So, is there anything I can help you find?” the woman asked, “or did you just come in looking to be saved by a super saleswoman?”

“I’m actually kinda looking to update my wardrobe,” you admitted sheepishly, “My current look just isn’t doing it for me.”

“Then you’ve come to the right place,” the woman beamed, “I’ve got a huge selection of clothes that can meet any style you’re looking for. Do you have anything in particular in mind?”

“Um, this is gonna sound kind of stupid,” you said, “but I’m kind of looking to go for darker colors and really fitted clothes. Maybe some blazers, vests…”

“I think we can manage that,” the woman said as she wandered towards some clothing racks, “My name is Lydia by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Lydia,” you smiled politely, “I’m Y/n.”

“Well, Y/n,” Lydia grinned widely, “Let’s update your style!”

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

“Hello, Angel,” Crowley greeted as he slid into the seat next to Aziraphale.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale beamed at his friend.

“Where’s, Y/n?” Crowley frowned when he noticed that the third seat was empty.

“I’m afraid they’re running late,” Aziraphale sighed, “I’m actually starting to worry. It’s not like them to be this late.”

“No, it’s not,” Crowley’s mind started to run through all of the horrible things that could have happened to you.

Normally, you were irritatingly punctual which was why he was two seconds from sprinting out of the restaurant to search for you. That didn’t end up being necessary when the pair heard your voice behind them.

“Hello, loves,” you greeted as you slid into your seat.

“Y/n!” Aziraphale exclaimed when he saw you, “Where have you been?! My dear, we’ve been worried sick about you and what on earth are you wearing?”

“I decided to try something new,” you shrugged as you adjusted your blazer and slipped your sunglasses off your face.

“What brought that on?” Crowley raised an eyebrow as he took in your new wardrobe.

“Been feeling a bit stale,” you said as you slouched back in your seat.

Before Crowley and Aziraphale could interrogate you further, the waiter appeared at the table to take your orders. Once the waiter was gone, you didn’t give them the chance to bring your new clothes back up.

“So, Aziraphale, read anything good lately?” you asked.

Crowley groaned as Aziraphale launched into regaling the tale of how he came to be in possession of his newest book. The conversation wasn’t going to be going anywhere else for quite some time and he knew that’s why you chose to ask about that topic.

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

“Angel, what do you think of Y/n’s new look?” Crowley asked one afternoon a couple of weeks after you unveiled your new clothes.

“I really would rather not comment,” Aziraphale sighed as he placed one of his books back on its shelf.

“You don’t like it either, do you?” Crowley smirked.

“No,” Aziraphale admitted reluctantly, “They always looked so nice in their other clothes. I don’t understand why they thought all of these darker clothes would be a good idea.”

“They just don’t look like they’re comfortable either,” Crowley shook his head, “Their pants are tighter than mine most days.”

“I’m worried,” Aziraphale admitted, “Y/n’s been behaving differently as well. Quite frankly they’ve been behaving more like…”

“More like who?” Crowley arched an eyebrow when Aziraphale didn’t finish his sentence.

“More like,” Aziraphale paused uncomfortably before he finished, “Well, more like you, my dear.”

“Me?!” Crowley choked on his wine, “What makes you say that?”

“Crowley, it’s very obvious that they’re trying to emulate you,” Aziraphale rolled his eyes, “The blazers and skinny pants? The dark sunglasses?”

“I can’t say that I noticed,” Crowley shrugged.

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

“Two strawberry lollies,” you ordered upon reaching the ice cream cart.

“Since when do you like strawberry?” Crowley asked after the worker handed over the lollies and you started to wander away.

“I’ve always like strawberry,” you said as you took a bite out of the cold treat, but you didn’t hide your grimace very well as you tasted the treat.

“What’s wrong?” Crowley asked.

“Nothing,” you lied as you swallowed.

“Y/n, is there a reason that you’ve been copying me lately?” Crowley asked, deciding to ignore your lie.

“What makes you think that I’ve been copying you?” you asked indignantly.

“Love, it’s rather obvious,” Crowley said gently, “and I can see you cringe every time you’re short with a waiter.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said evasively.

“Love, come on, you can-,” Crowley was cut off by you whirling on him and seizing fistfuls of his shirt.

“Lay off will you!” you bellowed angrily.

A second later your eyes widened, and you fell back a few steps, “I’m so sorry. I-I’ve got to go.”

“Y/n!” Crowley yelled after you, “Come back!”

“Stay away from me, Crowley,” you ordered as you ran away.

“Please, just wait up,” Crowley’s heart fractured when he saw the tears running down your cheeks.

Crowley tried to catch up to you, but you were too fast and disappeared into the streets.

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

Crowley decided to give you a few hours to cool off before he made the drive to your flat.

“Love, I know you’re in there,” he called through the door after he knocked on it, “I need to know you’re alright. I’m worried about you.”

“Go away, Crowley,” you called through the door.

Crowley sighed in relief when he heard your voice, “We need to talk.”

“Go away,” you said again.

“No,” Crowley said stubbornly, “If you don’t let me in, I’ll let myself in. I’m demon after all. Doors aren’t really a challenge.”

“You’re insufferable,” you rolled your eyes when you opened the door.

“Part of my charm,” Crowley grinned when he brushed past you into your flat, “Now we need to talk about whatever’s been going on with you.”

“Nothing’s been going on,” you said stubbornly after you shut the door.

“We both know that’s not true,” Crowley said, “Why have you been trying so hard to be like me?”

Crowley trailed off and waited for you to start explaining yourself.

“Because you’re so… confident and amazing,” you explained as you flopped onto your couch, “and I’m not.”

“What are you talking about?” Crowley was dumbfounded, “You’re so amazing. How could you think you’re not?”

“It’s the truth, Crowley,” you rolled away from him, “I’ve never been anything but… ordinary. Not good. Not bad. Just regular. I thought that if I tried to be more like you, I could break out of my shell and be better. I didn’t work.”

“Of course it didn’t work,” Crowley snorted, “Do you want to know why?”

“I get the feeling you’re going to tell me no matter what,” you muttered and you felt Crowley take a seat on the empty cushion by your feet.

“It’s because you’re already perfect,” Crowley told you, “You are smart, kind, and extremely beautiful. You put the needs of others ahead of your own. I wish I was capable of being like that.”

“Yeah, right,” you snorted.

“Look at me,” Crowley ordered gently.

You sighed and sat up to face him.

“You are perfect just the way you are,” Crowley said, “You don’t have to change your clothes to shine, love, because you already do.”

“You don’t like the clothes, do you?” you asked.

“Not really, no,” Crowley admitted.

“Can I tell you something?” you whispered and when Crowley nodded you continued, “I hate these bloody clothes. I don’t get how you can move in these pants. They’re so bloody tight.”

“What do you say we get you back into your clothes, gather up all the awful new ones you bought, return them and then we can go get a bite to eat?” Crowley asked.

“That sounds amazing,” you smiled.

“Good, let’s get a wiggle on then,” Crowley said using one of Aziraphale’s lines and stood up to offer you a hand up.

“There’s just one thing I need to do before we leave,” you said as he helped you up.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“This,” you said before pulling his face down to meet yours for a kiss.

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

A/N: Hello, loves! Sorry that I’ve been absent lately and that it’s taking me so long to turn out requests. I promise that I haven’t forgotten anyone. That being said thank you all so much for your patience with me since school has started back up. I truly appreciate it and it gives me so much motivation when I see all of your feedback!

I’m closing in on 200 followers and I’ve got an idea in mind for how to celebrate that so stay tuned for more info on that! Requests are still, in fact, open and feel free to drop into my ask box to chat or anything else!

#crowley x reader #crowley #anthony j crowley #anthony janthony crowley #good omens #good omens fanfic #reader insert #gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader insert #crowley x gender neutral reader #good omens reader insert

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