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concealeddarkness13 · 3 years

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WHG 15 Post-Games Brains and Brawn Part 8

A couple days before the masquerade! Tagging: @ratracechronicler, @maple-writes, @pen-of-roses (also thanks for Reine!), and @thoughts-of-nora!

A couple days after Shine met Triel, I still couldn’t get my mind off of her. Shit. I hated having a one-track mind.

So when I remembered that Reine had invited me to steal from an apartment near ours, I walked over to Reine’s room to see if she’d still be interested. I knocked on her door and smiled a little when she looked up. “So, you said about stealing from a fancy Capitol idiot?”

“Was wondering when you’d show up about that. Yeah, a building not far from here and enough stuff that one or ten things would hardly be missed.”

I smiled wider. This would be great! “Sounds like fun. Lead the way, if you’d like.”

She looked me up and down, and I had to stop myself from bristling. She was sizing me up, probably checking to see if I was capable enough for her standards. Shit. I was fine. But she just nodded and started walking.

I followed her, but I couldn’t just stay silent. I had to have some kind of distraction as we walked, or my thoughts would just return to Triel. “So, do you know how to dance? With that masquerade coming up, and all.”

“I’ve had some time to learn, yeah, though I don’t know what to expect for the Capitol’s version of dancing. You?”

I laughed. “I have no idea how to dance. Shine’s found some videos for me to practice with. I don’t know how good I’ll be though.”

“Well maybe we’ll be out before you’re forced to? Or maybe someone will cause a scene big enough to distract from how horrid you are at.” Her voice was light, and she looked back with a wink.

I grinned. “If anything, I’ll be the one causing the distraction. I’m good at being obnoxious.”

She sounded confused. “Obnox-” Pause. “Oh! Like annoying.” She didn’t know that? Well, I only knew it because the Shades called me that all the time, so understandable. She looked thoughtful. “I still don’t think that’s the right word though, not from what I’ve seen of you.”

How sweet, but she was wrong. “Then you haven’t seen me at my best.” I laughed a little. “Since you know about dancing, do you know anything else about parties? I’ve never been to one.”

“Generally? It’s loud and flashy, but there’s food and drinks and people tend to share way too much information after a while and their guards are dropped.”

The food and drink would probably be awesome! The other info didn’t sound so good, but oh well. I grinned. “Food and drinks I can handle. Not so sure about crowds, but I can try.” I lowered my voice to a mumble. “Maybe I can smuggle a feast out of the party.”

Reine laughed quietly. “I’ve seen people get a fair amount from them, I think you could manage it.”

“That’ll make it all worth it.” We walked outside, and I tensed slightly until I confirmed there wasn’t anyone around. I didn’t want to have any unwanted attention. But…speaking of unwanted attention, that guy who had been visiting Reine. Every single time he came, I always seemed to run into him. He was creepy, with that smirk and those analytical eyes. Might as well ask her what was going on. I glanced over at her. “So, who was that dude that came over and talked only to you?”

She tensed as well. So, not a friend probably. “He’s…Conor. Someone who just keeps showing up in my life despite best efforts.”

I frowned. “And I suppose that you don’t like him. You want me to punch him next time he shows up?”

“I—no, don’t do that. Thank you though. He’s a friend.” Yeah right. “I think,” she said quieter, not looking me in the eyes. “But he’s also trouble.”

Oh, I’d punch him. No worries about that. And then he’d know who he was dealing with. “If he’s a friend, what’s he doing working with the Capitol, and what does he want with Triel?”

“That’s the trouble part. I don’t know, I never with him, never understand his games. He helped get us out of the Games, but,” she laughed, sounding strangled. Oh, I was gonna punch him so hard. Possibly multiple times. “Out of one and into the other. He promised to help again, hopefully it’s just him hoping for entertainment.”

Entertainment? Shit, that sounded like the Shades. “I really will punch him when I see him again.”

“Yes, he does have that effect on people,” she said dryly.

I frowned. “So, how do you even know a Capitol escort?”

“I made a mistake and failed and got him killed.” She paused. “Nearly. So I felt responsible for him for awhile. That turned out so well.” She shrugged halfheartedly.

I kept frowning. Jerk. “He’s a sneaky one for an escort, it sounds like. I’ll have to plan out my attack.” I sighed. This was making me frustrated and her unhappy. “But enough topics that don’t involve stealing. Are we close?”

“Yeah, right up there.” She gestured up at a balcony on the top floor of the apartment building we were close to. Oh boy!

I grinned. “So, we’re climbing?” I didn’t wait for her as I trotted up to the building and scanned for hand-holds. It shouldn’t be a bad climb.

“You can if you insist,” Reine said behind me.

I jumped and looked over at her with a frown. “What other sneaky way could we get in?”

She snorted and glanced around. Then she rolled her shoulders and revealed…brown wings. “I think my way will be faster.”

Holy shit. My face immediately flushed, and I couldn’t stop staring. They were beautiful. “Well.” My voice cracked. Shit. “I suppose that would be faster.”

She laughed. “A bit, yes.” She held out her hand to me, and my face got hotter. Holy shit. I wasn’t prepared for this. But I also was. Flying! I was actually going to fly again! This time without metal around me.

I took her hand. “How—how fast can you fly?” And would I be able to go that fast now?

She shrugged and pulled me close. Shit. Hopefully, she hadn’t noticed my blushing. “I can keep up with some pretty fast cars, though I’ve never really put the effort in to find out, kind of hard to keep it hidden when doing test on it. Hold on.”

I held on tight as she shot up into the air, and I stared. The wind in my face, the different vantage point, it was beautiful. Amazing.

It was over too soon, as Reine touched down on the balcony. As I got my feet back under me, I turned to Reine with a grin. “How did you get those wings? Do you have magic besides that? Have you tested how high you can go? What kind of wings are they? A type of bird’s?”

“Short answer? I was born with them in a way. And I think they’re like some form of owl’s? At least that’s what Aleksis said after hours of researching, and I can fly high enough for the air to get thin.” She shifted and rolled her shoulders so the wings disappeared again. “As for the magic and stuff…let’s just say I’ve been around for longer than you’d think.” She gave a forced laugh, but then she winced.

Oh, she was uncomfortable. And I had just asked her to talk about her magic. I should have known better. Stupid piece of shit. So, I should repay her with at least showing off my magic. Lucky me, the doors to the balcony were locked, so I found water in a vase on the inside. I activated my magic, and the water crystallized into a knife and cut through the lock. I opened the door, and bowed. “After you.”

Reine bowed back and smiled. She slipped into the room and looked around before starting to look through the items strewn about the room. Damn. It was a mess in here. They wouldn’t miss any of it.

I took a few small things until I picked up a gaudy, sequined shirt and a felt pirate hat, and I grimaced. Those idiots from the costume store. “Holy shit. I might have already met these people.”

“And your opinion of them?” She looked up from the crate she had been sorting through.

“Loud. Obnoxious. Think they know everything about pirates when they know nothing.” My voice got quieter. “Think they know Triel when they know nothing.”

“Well then.” Reine pocketed an antique spyglass and straightened up. “I was planning on being subtle and not leaving a clue, but…maybe a bit of destruction and robbery wouldn’t do too much harm?” She looked over at me with a mischievous glint in her eye.

I grinned back. “Nah. I don’t think it would.” I knocked over the vase I had already taken the water out of, and it shattered on the floor. “Whoops.”

Reine knocked over a ship in a bottle. “Oh no. How terrible.” Then she upended the crate, letting everything scatter on the floor. She was so awesome.

I grabbed something off a shelf, but before I could throw it, I actually got a good look at it. It was a compass, and it actually looked valuable. “Huh. This actually looks rare.” I held it up for Reine to see.

She swallowed hard and took it carefully. “Yeah, this is…probably really valuable. Doubt they even know they have it or what it’s worth.” She kept staring, running her fingers over some kind of engraving.

I frowned. “Do you recognize it? A possession of an ancestor or something?”

“Or something. Father’s.” Huh. I guess she had said she lived longer than usual. But still. How old was she? That compass looked old. She pocketed it and looked around. “Oh look a closet. Is there anything in here not covered in glitter or sequins?” She held up a long coat with weird fur or something on it. “Or…are these feathers?”

“It’s shit, that’s what it is.” I grabbed the coat and used the crystal knife to cut a message into it. Dress like a real pirate.

Reine laughed and handed me some more before she paused on a long black coat mostly free of sequins and glitter that actually didn’t look too bad. “Actually, I think I might take a page from Triel’s book here, think they’ll recognize this at the masquerade?”

I blushed again, just imagining her wearing that. I smiled a little. “I don’t think you’ll be wanting for dance partners, that’s for sure.”

“Wait till you see my mask and you’ll probably rethink that.” She winked and tried the cloak on, and I flushed more. “Not as good of material as the real thing, but it’ll do its job-” Her eyes wandered over toward the door, and she said something I didn’t recognize, and she had an accent when she spoke again. “I think they might be coming back.”

I frowned. How did she know that? I hadn’t heard anything. But I trusted her judgment. I swore and ran over to the balcony. Wait. We flew up. I glanced back at Reine. “Would you be able to do the wing thing again? Or should I start climbing down?”

“Wings.” She ran for me, and I threw the coat I had knifed at the door just as it opened, and the person who had come in was met with the coat in their face. Just as Reine took off and flew us back toward the ground.

We both laughed, and I grinned. “We make a good thief team!”

“Simply the best!”

“So, we gotta steal more after all this’s over!” I paused as we got closer to the ground. I hadn’t been tons of help. She hadn’t had to bring me along. “Thanks for letting me come along.”

We got back to the ground. “Oh we should definitely do this again. And as if I could get you to stay if you heard what I’d planned.”

“You got me there.” I held out a fist to fistbump and winked at her. “And I owe you a clumsy, awkward dance at the party.”

She fistbumped and winked back. “I dare anyone to say anything about it too.”

#writeblr hunger games #writeblr

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justkeeptrekkin · 4 years

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Wrote a little Good Omens/Star Trek crossover

.... for the awesome @comicgeekery. Thanks for the inspo!

5th April, 2063

“--historic day for humankind. For this is truly the first time that we have been able to refer to ourselves as such with the certainty that there is, in fact, life elsewhere in the perceivable universe.”

It’s a balmy, spring afternoon in London when Crowley rolls out of bed and turns on the television. Honestly, he’s fairly used to ignoring the news; it’s only on because he’d left it on channel one last night for a nature documentary that he and Aziraphale have been watching about whales. That’s why he pays very little attention to the picture on his projector screen.

“-- quite extraordinary. It seems as if this was all triggered by Zefram Cochrane's attempt at warp-speed flight, and er-- just coming in now, these beings call themselves Vulcans, Jane, and-- aha-- well, they’re not quite saying that they come in peace, but if our translators are correct, they’re offering us a long and prosperous life--”

Crowley slams his mug on the counter. He’s run out of coffee. He could very easily conjure up some more now, right here, but miracle-coffee is never as good as the nice Costa Rican stuff he buys. Or, more accurately, that Aziraphale buys for him, because he’s just that much of a kept man, apparently.

A knocking at the door. A light rapping that Crowley recognises immediately, and it would usually make him humiliatingly happy except for the fact that he’s just woken up from a--

He checks the time on the TV screen.

-- from a two week nap, he hasn’t got any coffee, and the TV is blabbering on far too loudly. Waving a hand at said TV until it is muted, Crowley slides over to the door, dressing gown belt flapping about against his leg, and opens it with a flourish.

Aziraphale has that bright-eyed, bushy-tailed look about him: never a good sign. “Crowley--”

Crowley plants a brief kiss on his cheek, then immediately retreats back into the kitchen, shoulders heavy with sleep. “I’m going back to sleep, angel. World’s too loud still.”

”Crowley--” the sound of the door slamming, very purposefully, Crowley thinks, as Azriaphale continues: “I have been trying to call you all morning. I thought you left your phone on vibrate for such things.”

“I did. Didn’t I?” Crowley scratches his head. He’s sure he’d changed the ring tone for Aziraphale’s phone number specifically so he’d wake up when only he called. “Apparently not, sorry Angel-- any news?”

He sees the way Aziraphale is rolling his eyes and flapping about when he turns back around from the kitchen with two mugs of tea. His hands are fiddling with each other in that excitable way that they do, a happy nervous way that he’s come to adore. Crowley hands him a cup. Aziraphale takes it with a pointed raise of his brow.

“Any -- any news? Really. You could not have asked a more absurd--”

At that point, apparently, he’s lost for words. More frustrated than Crowley realised, and so he begins to take Aziraphale’s bright eyes and bushy tail a little more seriously. Particularly when Aziraphale puts down the cup of tea of all things, and gestures to the television, one arm outstretched and gaze still fixed on Crowley.

The screen remains muted. However, Crowley gathers what Aziraphale is gesturing at fairly quickly. He’s so used to letting the news blend into the background, tired of feeling depressed by the human race -- especially with this World War III nonsense -- that he’d completely missed that something, actually, rather important has been happening.

It looks like the research base in San Francisco. Crowley knows only a little about this; as the angel who created a fair few of the stars in the sky, he takes interest when humans start pointing their big magnifying glasses at them. Zefram Cochrane, the inventor of warp-speed engines, and a few other important looking men (who may well be important, what does Crowley know? He hasn’t been paying attention) welcomes three people. People, except they’re not human. Humanoid, perhaps, but human? No. Crowley can spot an alien a mile off.

“Crikey,” he mutters, hovering in his sparse living room with his dressing gown open and tea steaming.

Aziraphale nods fervently.

“Which ones are these?”

“These are the Vulcans,” Aziraphale explains. “Do you remember? Our colleagues -- oh, I forget their names -- a few of our colleagues helped set up. Erm.” Aziraphale purses his lips. “Well, their version of Eden.”

“Something like Sha Ka Ray, if I remember,” Crowley mutters, unblinking as he watches one of the Vulcans raise their hand in a v-shape, the humans mimicking.

“That was it! Sha Ka Ree.”

They’re wearing long, heavy cloaks. Even expressions, but glints in their eyes, as if they are taking some professional enjoyment out of this. The humans, barely containing their own excitement -- and probably a good dose of apprehension. Human beings, finally meeting an alien species who could take them down a notch, teach the buggers a couple of things. Crowley and Aziraphale certainly never managed to, much as they’ve tried. Far too stubborn.

After a while of sitting and watching the proceedings-- the beginnings of a new, enterprising delegation-- Crowley gives a long exhale.

“Those bowl cuts are questionable.”

Stardate: 53459 (17th July 2269)

“What? Just give them a quick ring? Give the flagship of Starfleet’s exploratory expedition a cheeky call, just to check in? ‘Hello Enterprise, nice to meet you’?”

“Yes. Why, do you not think that they’d appreciate it?”

“It’s less that they won’t appreciate it and more that it might blow their tiny minds, Angel.”

“They’ve met plenty of extraordinary species by this point -- extraordinary by their standards, anyway. A call from us will be -- how do they put it -- ‘a walk in the park’--?”

“Not the point. That’s -- that’s actually the bit that I’m struggling with, here. What is the point, exactly? What are you aiming to achieve? You looking to freak them out or…?”

“Well, I thought perhaps we could… ah. Tell them who we are.”

Aziraphale looks at Crowley. Red hair tied up, ringlets around his face; silver eye-shadow; a black jumpsuit in the style of the Terran fashion that really leaves very little to the imagination, with cut-outs here and there all over his body. Legs crossed, foot bouncing impatiently, arms sprawled across the back of Aziraphale’s sofa. In his old bookshop, Crowley always sticks out like a sore thumb, and he’s always loved that about him.

He tilts his head. “Really,” he drawls, vaguely amused.

“Yes. Don’t you think it’s about time?”

“IIIII dunno…” Crowley sucks air through his teeth contemplatively. “Never ends very well. Tell humans that angels and demons roam their planet and they get all agitated. Don’t need to tell you that, you remember how much it traumatised dear old Hieronymous. Couldn’t stop painting us, the poor bastard.”

Aziraphale sighs. “Yes, well, that was different. That was almost a millennia ago, now.”

The bookshop is still just as dusty as it has ever been. Crowley has been urging him to at least install a proper computer -- one that will answer to him, rather than sitting there stupidly, looking like a brick. But he is quite happy with it as it is, especially when he has Crowley here, lounging about as he’s always done, draped across the furniture like he’s still wrapped around that apple tree. And drinking more wine than is good for them.

“Right so -- let’s just role-play this--” Crowley’s glass makes a decisive clink against the table, “-- we patch into their network. Right? I find their frequency and just, try and call from my PADD.”

“Yes,” he confirms, not liking his partner’s tone of voice.

“So then they answer, all, military-like and ready for some sort of diplomatic… situation.”

“Mm…”

Crowley’s leaning forward in his seat, gesticulating a enthusiastically. “They see us, they’re all, ‘oi, how did you get this number?’ and we’re all, ‘sorry, just thought we’d pop in and introduce ourselves, we’re your new neighbours,’” he wrinkles his nose mockingly, “‘Cept we’re not new at all, not really, we’ve been here since the dawn of time, but don’t worry too much about that’.”

“Well--”

“So they’re all, ‘ah, immortal beings from outer space!’ and we have to explain that, actually, we’re not really from space at all, we’re the ones who made space, and no, sorry, we’d love to patch you through to God, except She’s been a little busy for the past six thousand odd years, no can do, just got us boring old sods’.”

“Crowley, really. Don’t you think you’re being a little reductionist?”

“No.” Suddenly serious. “I don’t. They’re humans. They’re brilliant, but they’re also humans, which means they’re also thick as shit.”

Aziraphale purses his lips, electing to ignore the love of his life for this moment. Sitting up properly, linking his hands in his lap. “I think it’s time.”

“And what do you think they’ll do?”

“Perhaps it will bring about some new, interesting philosophy. About the nature of the universe, of the overlap between science and faith.”

Crowley’s brow quirks, yellow eyes staring, wide and disbelieving. “Some ‘new and interesting philosophy’? Books. You’re talking about books. You think you’ll get some nice literature out of this.”

Aziraphale flounders. “Well, that’s not exactly how I’d put it--”

Crowley scowls. But then, he’s taking out his PADD from his purse, making aggravated noises as his fingers fly across the screen.

“You’re doing it?” Aziraphale asks hopefully.

“Yes, yes. You got all happy as soon as you started talking about it and-- I was never really going to say no, was I? You know how pathetic I am by this point, surely.”

He’s not looking at him, but Aziraphale is gazing with those big, angel-eyes that Crowley’s told him he uses sometimes. They drive him insane, but he can’t help it, not when Crowley’s being so unintentionally romantic. “Oh, Crowley.”

“Shhhht. Stop. I’m not doing anything nice, I’m--”

“Not nice, I know.”

Aziraphale smiles serenely. Crowley’s scowl deepens, just as the PADD begins to ring.

The screen is propped up against a wine bottle, just in time for the image to reveal a man. A man in green and gold, sand-blonde hair swept back and a look of cautious curiosity in his hazel eyes. Behind his chair, a woman in red is leaning over the controls. The captain’s head is angled slightly, tilted as he seems to consider his situation -- consider the two strangers who have called their starship.

“Greetings, this is Captain Kirk of the Starship: Enterprise. To whom am I speaking?”

“Oh, how exciting,” Aziraphale whispers, nudging Crowley a little. Then, more loudly, “Greetings, Captain Kirk! My name is Aziraphale, and this is Crowley.”

Crowley sighs, seeming very put upon.

Aziraphale nudges him again. “Well! Don’t be rude, Crowley.”

“Yes, hello, how very nice to meet you,” he simpers accordingly.

“This is a secure line, gentlemen. How did you access our co-ordinates?”

“Ah, yep, sorry, my fault,” Crowley waves a hand. “I’m -- well, we’re, er… we can do stuff. Lots of stuff. He’ll explain later.”

He shoots Aziraphale a glare, which seems to be a warning that this could go horribly wrong. Aziraphale, ever the opportunist, elects to ignore this.

“That I shall,” Aziraphale adds, pointedly.

Kirk thinks. He thinks, sitting so still as he leans towards the monitor, that for a moment, Azirpahale thinks the screen has frozen. Then, turning his head to his right, he notes that he is talking to someone. A certain someone who then appears on screen, a royal blue shirt and hands clasped behind his back. A Vulcan. The two converse with a silent look.

Ah. Aziraphale knows that look very well.

“Be that as it may,” Kirk continues, turning back to them, “it is technically a federal crime to trace Starfleet co-ordinates and to contact a ship without first organising an official meeting. That is, unless it is an emergency.”

“Oh, yes, I have heard of your ship’s adventures, captain,” Aziraphale rushes. He puts down his glass of wine. “You’ve done an awful lot of good, helping those in need.”

“We… do our best,” he says with a slow nod.

“Sorry. For the, er… illegal call,” Crowley says.

Another moment where both men share a glance. And then, the Vulcan in blue tilts an inquisitive chin.

“Sir, may I enquire as to the colour of your eyes? They do not appear to be contact lenses.”

It takes a moment for Crowley to realise that he’s the one being addressed. Then, “Ah! Bollocks. Forgot the sunglasses-- see Aziraphale, this is why we don’t call Starfleet when we’ve had two bottles of Rioja.”

“Awfully sorry, dear--”

The captain looks up at his colleague with a wry smile and a raised brow. “Spock, don’t you think it’s a little rude to as a stranger questions about their appearance?”

“A stranger who has made contact with Starfleet’s flagship outside of legal parameters.”

“Still, politeness can go a long way,” he adds with a smirk, and a look in his eyes that’s, quite frankly, obscene.

Crowley clears his throat. “To answer your question-- although, seems like they’re more interested in each other,” he says to Aziraphale as an aside, “- to answer your question, yeah, they’re real. Snake eyes. Unfortunate accident involving a bastard called Lucifer.”

A pause. The man named Spock tilts his head. Kirk leans forward in his seat.

“Lucifer, you say?”

At that, Crowley gives a wicked smile. Aziraphale sighs. This wasn’t exactly how he’d imagined this conversation starting.

Stardate: 51650 (9th May 2271)

“My point is -- my point is -- tribbles. Tribbles, now -- whose idea were those, then? Who thought they were a good idea? They’ve -- they’ve not got faces, they’ve not got hands or feet or paws or anything, just, little balls of fluff that just poof! Reproduce, until you’re up to your tits in furballs.”

“Now, tha’s what ah been tryna tell yeh, captain. And you mind what he’s saying, too, Lieutenant Uhura! I know you thought they’s adorable, but they’re terrors.”

“Pointless, they’re pointless. Don’t know what they were thinking of when they made tribbles, whoever they were.”

“Aye! See, straight from the mouth of an angel!”

“Er, former angel.”

”Them wee bastards’ve been cloggin’ up my ship’s engine, would ye believe?”

“Our ship, Scotty.”

“Oh. Well, o’course, captain… I didnae mean no disrespect, captain--”

“In Russia--”

“I swear, if you’re about to say that Russia invented tribbles, Chekov, I’ll kick you out of this here bar faster than you can say Alabama Slammer.”

“Alright, now, Bones, it’s shore leave. He can say what he wants. We’re all here to relax. Isn’t that right, Spock?”

“Yeah, he sure looks relaxed there, Jim.”

“I am not accustomed to frequenting such establishments.”

“I would like to state, for the wecord, sir, that I was not going to say that Russia inwented tribbles.”

“I -- ah -- actually, I have a bit of a confession to make in that respect…”

“Angel. Please. Please don’t tell me that you’re… Christ, you didn’t…”

“You are the angel responsible for creating the tribble species?”

“You have a lot to answer for, Aziraphale.”

“It wasn’t intentional! Or, rather, the intention was to simply create a creature so lovely and adorable that no one could quite resist it. And, I suppose, what with evolution and how that may have changed their, erm, reproduction process…”

“You bastard.”

“Crowley -- for Heaven’s sake, it was simply an accident! You can hardly say that it’s worse than some of your creations.”

“I invented Luton airport. You invented the universe’s most irritating pest. Honestly, I figured some lower ranking demon had been the one to come up with it, but now I feel, sort of… betrayed.”

“Don’t say that! May I remind you that you are the one who came up with the M25? Which nearly destroyed the universe as we know it!”

“I beg your pardon? Would you care to rewind and just, explain that last bit, Aziraphale?”

“Oh -- er, it’s a long story.”

“A very long story that would mean another round. Angel, you are definitely bloody-well buying.”

Stardate: 43897 (24th November 2366)

“You know, when you said that you wanted to check-in with Picard and the team, this isn’t what I imagined.”

Their call isn’t immediately picked up. However, when it is, the first thing they see is a large barbershop quartet. They’re all wearing pink, candy-stripe suits and wicker hats. The bridge of the Enterprise looks much the same as it did under captain Kirk, if not for this barbershop quartet, and perhaps a few technological tweaks. And, of course, the current captain who sits in his chair, face in his hand.

“Er.” Crowley looks at Aziraphale, who looks back at Crowley. “This doesn’t look like a good time.”

“No, by all means,” Picard gestures to the screen, other hand still covering his face. “If you have any advice to offer, then I will happily take it.”

“What…” Aziraphale trails off, purses his lips. The, trying to affect something light and airy, “What seems to be the problem, captain?”

Picard looks over the edge of his hand. “Are you aware of the being that calls itself ‘Q’?”

He’s about to say that he isn’t -- perhaps Crowley knows this Q?-- but before they even have a moment to deliberate, the tallest of the barbershop quartet members steps forward from the throng and hops down the steps to Picard’s side. Dark eyes that have seen too much, brightened by mischief. And for a moment, there is the faintest flicker of recognition as he doffs his hat to the screen, leaning against Picard’s captain chair.

“Good day to you, gentlemen. Did you like my song?”

“No,” Picard says quite firmly. “Now, would you please leave and take your pestering elsewhere!”

Q tuts, rolls his eyes. Pokes his thumb in Picard’s direction. “He’s just grumpy because he hasn’t had his morning cup of Earl Grey.”

“You…”

It’s Crowley that says this. Leaning forward on Aziraphale’s sofa, snake pupils narrowing. And it’s then that Aziraphale realises that this is absolutely someone they know. He just can’t put his finger on it, whilst Crowley clearly has.

“You know him?” Picard says, with the smallest flicker of hope.

“Wait. Wait a second now,” Q points his finger at Crowley, frown deepening. He miracles his hat away, cradles his chin. “Now, we worked together a long time ago, didn’t we?”

That makes Aziraphale stare back at Crowley.

There’s some hesitance. “Oh. Sure, probably. Long time ago, now, wasn’t it? Who knows. Worked with lots of people.”

“No, no, no -- we did a lot of creating with each other. Some fun messing around you know?”

“Er. Not sure. Might have a different person in mind--”

And then those eyes widen. A wicked grin on his face, and Aziraphale can only imagine that this Q must be a demon.

That’s when Aziraphale finds himself standing on the bridge of the Enterprise. Jean-Luc Picard looking up at them despairingly, whilst the rest of his crew work as diligently as they can with a quartet serenading them. Data, notably, is working with the utmost focus, whilst Wharf looks like he’s two seconds away from ripping something in half bare-handed. Riker looks no more patient.

“Oh,” Aziraphale remarks. “You’ve -- you miracled us here!”

No use, Q is far too preoccupied by Crowley. Pointing a finger in recognition. “You’re Crawly! I remember you! Oh, we got up to some good stuff together, huh? It’s been a long time since I’ve seen any of the guys from the Milky Way neighbourhood. You guys really like to keep to yourselves, I never understood it. Totally obsessed with your ‘Eden’ as if the rest of us don’t exist.”

“You o know him,” Picard says with some accusation.

Crowley looks, to put it lightly, a little embarrassed. Hands sliding in his pockets and averting his snake-eyed gaze, “Yup. Long time ago. Hung out with a different crowd, then, you got to understand…”

“Qasphiel.” The name bubbles up on Aziraphale’s tongue from nowhere; memories of a gaggle of angels who called themselves the Q Continuum, who were cast out for blasphemy. Creating your own little gang was never something that The Almighty did like. “You’re Qasphiel. You know, I do remember you, now that I think about it.”

Q looks Aziraphale up and down once. “I don’t remember you. Were you one of the more straight-laced types? Yeah, we wouldn’t have hung out, much.”

“Excuse me? I… I’ll have you know, that since then I’ve become quite the rebel--”

“What’re you doing here, Qasphiel?” Crowley interrupts with some exhaustion. “Coming in here and getting on everyone’s nerves -- believe me, I get that it’s fun for a while, but, come on. You must be a bit knackered of it now, no matter what the others are getting you to do.”

“Ah, but I don’t work on anyone’s terms any more. Not even the Continuum’s,” Q smiles smugly.

“That’s awfully nice, but the alternative is buggering off, so the rest of us can get on with our lives.”

He narrows his eyes at Crowley. “What’s in it for me?”

A weary sigh. And Aziraphale considers just how kind Crowley has always been, even if he doesn’t always see it. “Listen. How about -- what about a catch-up. Grab a drink on some planet in the Omicron Delta quadrant. Talk about old times? Big Bang and all that?”

“Ah yes,” Q sighs. Then, apparently distracted, “You know, I don’t recall the yellow eyes,” he gestures to his own. “The demonic thing. Did you fall with Lucy and the others, Crawly? Bad luck.”

“That’s a story that needs telling over a drink.”

There’s a long moment -- too long a moment -- where Q considers this offer. Picard is leaning back in his seat and watching the interaction over steepled fingers. Even Data has stopped to listen, head tilted in interest.

Then, Q shrugs.

“Alright. Let’s go.”

And with that, Picard’s bridge is once again empty of divine or immortal beings. Or barbershop quartets. It is extraordinarily quiet.

Picard lets out a long exhale. “Never a dull day.”

Stardate: unknown

Three suns set upon the horizon of Alpha Centauri. Palm trees wave in the breeze; planted there a few decades ago when this planet first became populated by humanoid species. The air tastes like salt and smells like ozone. A burning orange sky, a deep purple scattering of stars directly above them. Small, clay houses, their shutters closed in the late afternoon heat. Mountain ranges in the distance, seeming so small from their little balcony.

“Total tourist trap,” Crowley mutters into his glass of Romulan ale.

Aziraphale stifles a burp. “Sorry?”

“Look at it. Tourist trap.” Crowley crosses his legs on the railing of the balcony. “All of it. Built like a Terran city, as well. Palm trees and all that bollocks. Shops and restaurants, Christ, it couldn’t get more human if you tried. When will they stop colonising and just learn to appreciate?”

“Mmm.”

“Remember when we could come here and not be harassed by people selling sunglasses? When it was just a big, ol’ expanse?”

“Empty,” Aziraphale remarks. Then, wide eyed, “Hot.”

They watch the first sun dip behind the mountain ranges. The Romulan ale burns Crowley’s throat nicely.

“D’you ever wonder what it would’ve been like?”

Aziraphale takes a slow, indulgent breath. And Crowley knows that he understands what he’s asking. “Sometimes. But I think it’s better that we didn’t run away. We did save the universe, after all.”

“I know, obviously. But do you ever wonder what would have happened if we hadn’t?”

Of course he does. They both have. Images of a war-torn universe, of all of this: gone.

Crowley drops his hand, finds Aziraphale’s. Their fingers link, and they absorb the light of three, alien stars.

#star trek #good omens #ineffable husbands #lmao #my writing #this was meant to be 5 +1 times and i just realised it was 4+1 #oops sorry m8

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dearest-sunshine · 6 years

Text

Word Count – “Sure just let me … Lie down here.”

Date – August 18, 2018

Word Count – 2270

It’s not every day you get to see the gates of hell while still living. And apparently, I should be lucky. Or so this grim reaper dude says.

“Honestly man, I was sleeping. Can I go back to sleep? And wake up in my own bed?” the man shakes his head. Honestly, the grim reaper does not AT ALL look like what we make him out to be. Imagine your version of Aphrodite. Yeah. That’s what he or she looks like. Death is HOT. At the moment though, I did not give a single flying shit.

“I’m sorry ma’am. We need to meet with Satan to figure out what’s going on. Like why you’re here. We may break so you can nap for a second though!” I look at him. And then at the river of lava beside us. And then at the ground which was made of rocks and red sand.

“Sure. Lemme just…. Lie down here for a sec…” He glares at me and mutters under his breath.

“Oh, for the love of shit you are one of the most annoying people I’ve ever met. And I deal with some annoying ass people.” I smirk.

“that’s the goal. Imma make this trip hell. Oh wait.” He rolls his eyes and mutters under his breath and I leap from one boulder to another. Oh well. If I’m in hell I might as well, make it worth it. I mean, aside from the lave and sharp rocks, it isn’t that bad. It’s just like a giant sauna. That I will be trekking. For who knows how long. I groan.

“How long will this take?” I ask him. Genuinely curious. “I was planning on going to the prom for once and it’s today.” Death throws me a look over his shoulder. Like I should know better. Which is annoying because I’ve never been to hell and I have no clue what’s going on.

“I have no clue. Time in hell is weird.” Jesus! That is not an answer!

“God are you always this confusing?” he scoffs. I groan. And we walk. And walk. An hour later or so. (He’s right. Sadly. Time is confusing.) I check my phone. Thankfully, it was in my hand when I fell asleep, so it came with me. I try and turn it on. Instead of my usual lock screen, or a black screen, it shows a red screen. Like pure red.

“Dammit! What’d you do to my phone? I just want to check the time!” he stops and turns around.

“Shit do I have to explain EVERYTHING to you? Time is weird here. Electronics don’t work. You cannot die. We need to reach Devil man. I have no clue how long it will take. Now will you shut up? God the dead are NEVER this loud.” I smile. At least he acts human.

~ ~ ~

We walk in silence a bit longer but then I get bored. I hate silence.

“So….” I start talking, not knowing where I’m going. “why are you so fucking gorgeous?” he sighed a little bit. Like he hated explaining but did so all the time.

“I look different for each person. Basically, your version of the most attractive person ever, I am that person. I guess it makes dying easier.” Makes sense. He stopped, and I almost ran into him. He turned.

‘What do I look like to you?” I considered.

“I’m not sure how to describe you. You look kind of normal to me, but I’m not really attracted to the physical. I guess, if I were to describe you physically, you have a fade top. Your skin’s like fucking bronze or something. Your eyes are like a emerald green and you have a sharp ass jawline.” I pause for a second. there’s something else I just can’t put my finger on it. “Oh! Your missing your right pinky and have a scar around your neck.”

He looked at me with his jaw dropped. I felt scared. Did I describe him wrong? Shit.

“Did I..... Do something wrong?” he shook himself and pulled up the hood on his sweater. Funny. You think death would wear like a scary cloak and carry a scythe but nah. Just a red sweater and black pants.

“No.” I snap back from my tangent and look at him. “That’s… that’s what I actually look like. I’ve never had anyone describe the actual me. No one has ever found the real me attractive.” Damn. I’m kinda shocked. I never really had a type. I was kind of attracted to everyone. Just felt more attracted to personality than physical. I mean yeah physical was important, but I never really thought about it. He snapped his fingers in front of me and I shook myself into reality.

“Sorry man. dude… bro… what should I call you?” he laughed as I blushed a bit. Dammit. Why am I blushing?

“I never really had a name. most people just call me death.” I nod.

“That’s fair. I’m gonna name you.” He looks worried. “relax. I’m actually pretty good at naming things.” I consider.

“Jordan.” I nod definitively. He shrugs.

“Not too bad.” We make eye contact and blush. Dammit! “we should probably keep moving.” He says, looking at the distance ahead. I grin, and we start walking. This time, its peppered with conversation. We talk about school, why I’m so excited for prom, what prom is like what it’s like being death, and finally, why the fuck was he only a teenager?

“I’m actually one of the first ever people to die.”

“damn. Why do you look like a…? I dunno… ‘modern’ teen?”

“Because I’ve aged? But not in a biological sense. More I just look like a teen in the certain time period. My clothes and wardrobe change with the times too.”

“Damn. So, you’re like 10,000 years old?” he nodded. “Jesus.”

We walk a bit longer in silence.

“So why were you chosen to be death?” he thinks about it for a minute.

“because of the rest of the… village I guess? Didn’t want to die and I was the one who helped everyone come to terms with it. It was kinda trippy to see the first one die. Like how did you know they were dead? It was strange. Everyone was panicking and I kinda calmed them down. I was actually the last in my village to die.”

“Huh. Heroic.” He smirks and shrugs. “So, what about the devil and god and all that? How does that work?”

“well its different for everyone. It depends on your religion and beliefs. If you’re atheist, its kinda just nothing I guess.” I nod. Makes sense. Growing up in a Christian household, I still hold some of the Christian values even if I don’t support Christianity.

“Yeah. I guess I always figured id end up with hell. Even if I wasn’t pan, I've probably committed enough other sins. I mean who hasn’t?”

Jordan nodded.

“everyone has. It just depends on how bad they are. Honestly, though, I don’t understand why anyone would want to be in heaven. It’s kinda boring there. Then again, Utopias bore me. Nothing bad happening? Hah.” Yeah. I can get that.

“Plus, God is a douche.” I stop. Damn. I mean yeah, that makes sense. But still. Damn.

“How?”

“Well for the first couple centuries, he was really proactive. Very benevolent towards those who worshipped him. Smite those who are bad. Blah blah. He actually controlled hell too. Satan hadn’t really had a reason to be angry at him.

Anyways, after the black plague, he kinda stopped caring. Got lazy. I mean he still listens to his followers, but he got egotistical. Cared only for the opinions of his loudest disciples. He does what they say. Hence, gay people going to hell. All that.

So, after a couple years, Satan gave up. She tried her best to talk some sense into God, but he did not give a flying shit. After a while, she kinda just said fuck it and created a place for those who sinned. I actually enjoy being down here more. She’s like my older sister.

Anyways, she has more of a moral compass than doofus up there so those who really have sinned, molesters, pedophiles, rapists, etc., get actually punished whereas those who don’t really deserve it kinda just chill.

Every couple year, she has me do a sweep of heaven and bring down those who deserve to be punished but went unpunished because they supported God. Also, those who are just kind of sick of God.” I nod. Everything he says made sense. And, honestly, I’m excited to meet Satan now.

~ ~ ~

We trek for a while. Finally, I see lights up ahead. Jordan sighs.

“I forgot. There’s a party tonight. It’s gonna be hell finding Satan.” I giggle when he says hell. Its kinda funny considering the situation. And honestly, he and I have gotten along rather nicely. I’m definitely more attracted to him than I was at the start of the adventure.

We get to the gates and hear music. I kinda bob along to it. It’s definitely my style. That reminds me. Prom. I sigh, realizing that I’ve probably missed it. Jordan looks at me confused.

“I just realized that I’ve probably missed prom by now. And my family probably thinks that I’ve run away.” He shrugs. I find myself not really caring anymore either. My family sucked. we enter the party. It looks awesome. Loud music, grinding, food, everything a party needs. God, I love it.

I start dancing to the music, swaying my hips and all that when I feel a pair of hands on my hips. I jerk around and see Jordan smirk at me.

“Satan’s normally at the middle of the party so we might as well dance our way there.” I roll my eyes but go with it. We grind and slowly make our way through the crowd. It hot and sweaty and so much damn fun. There’s guys dancing with guys, girls with girls, guys with girls, and so much more going on. Jordan pulls me closer and I blush. After about a week together, I can fully admit to myself that I like him. He leans down and whispers in my ear.

“I think I see her but she’s dancing this girl she wants to bone. Let’s give her a minute.” I giggle and nod my head. Leaning back, I wrap my arms around his neck and close my eyes as we ‘dance’. We sway for a minute and then a feel him gently tug on my arms. He spins me around and my eyes fly open with mild shock. He pulls me close as I look up to him. He’s a good 5 inches taller than I am. He smirks, and I feel my face turn beet red. I know exactly what’s happening. I’ve seen movies.

He leans down, and I close my eyes. God. This if fucking magical. I’ve definitely had my fair share of kisses, but none are as good as this one. Let me tell you one thing, person who’s reading this. Kisses are nothing like how they right in books. There are no fireworks. It doesn’t change your life. You won’t get married to your first kiss.

But here’s the thing. While there may not be fireworks, you will feel wonderful. Your toes will curl. You will feel warm. It will feel right. And god, did that kiss feel right.

~ ~ ~

We break apart and I look at him. He smirks, and I blush harder than I ever had.

“That was… fucking amazing.” He laughed breathlessly.

“Damn right.” I looked around. “Oh look! Satan’s staring at us. Joy.” And damn was she. Her mouth was open, and she had frozen. Jordan waved at her and she jolted. A big grin crossed her face as she made her way to us.

“Baby bro!!! you made it! And you brought a guest!” she exclaimed, hugging Jordan and looking at me. “Oh! You must be the one who told me you’d sell your soul to get out of your family and town! I’m so sorry life was so terrible for you. Anyways, you’re welcome to live here. I see you’ve already met my lil bro.” Damn. For someone portrayed as dark and foreboding, she was very bubbly. Then again, Satan was portrayed as male in the bible.

“Hi.” I say, a little shy. Satan was hot as fuck. “I’m Jada. And actually, thank you for listening to my... Prayer I guess? I couldn’t stand another day.” She nodded sympathetically.

“Of course, dear. Now, I know that you’ve obviously met my little brother, so he can guide you to your room.” Jordan nods and takes my hand. He leads me to the house that the party is coming from. We weave our way through couples practically fucking on the sofas and upstairs to a cozy looking hall with multiple bedrooms. Jordan guides me to the next one.

“This one will be yours. Mine is just across the hall.” I nod shyly and consider the room. Its rather lovely. I turn to him a blurt something out that I never in a million years thought I would.

“Will you help me get comfy in here?” I scream internally as I end with a wink. Jordan stares for a second, blinks, and then picks me up. I wrap my legs around his waist as he starts kissing me. The door shuts behind us and the rest is history.

#writing #decaffeinated writing #short story #death #satan #hell #idk.#im probably gonna anger some people with this

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