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ellenripleysbelieveitornot · 4 years

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The sun slowly peeked over the horizon to find Crowley and Aziraphale seated on a bench in the park. It was an ordinary, uneventful morning, well before the threat of impending apocalypse would loom over, ruining simple mornings such as these.

Of the two beings who didn’t need to sleep, it was the one who very rarely did who had suggested meeting well before the break of dawn, much to Crowley’s reluctance and dismay. He had sworn the moment he sat down that he would be off as soon as they finished their debriefing to ‘get some much needed beauty rest, really Angel, are you some kind of sadist or something?’

However, all business had been thoroughly discussed, and then discussed some more, just for good measure, and Crowley had been unable to part himself from Aziraphale’s company as soon as he had looked at him with those bright blue eyes (how could an angel be so good at tempting?) and asked, ‘won’t you enjoy the sunrise with me, dear boy?’

Aziraphale was delighted that Crowley had agreed and giddily awaited the glow of the break of dawn. When the first rays of light set the sky ablaze, he gasped in wonder, and his hand flitted over to briefly grasp Crowley's before he remembered himself and primly clasped both his hands together in his own lap.

Crowley flexed his hand, the one Aziraphale had grabbed, and Aziraphale briefly thought he would reach out and rejoin it with his, but the moment passed when Crowley cleared his throat and said, "So. You really like sunrises?"

"Oh, they're my favorite!" Aziraphale gushed. The colors are so magnificent.

"Yeah, they are," Crowley agreed gently. He stared off, so entranced by the sight before him that he removed his sunglasses. Suddenly, his head snapped over to Aziraphale. "Hey, wait! Didn't you make the sky?"

"I helped," Aziraphale said simply.

"Yeah, yeah, hey, remind me which bit you worked on?" he asked with all the casualness of someone who knew the exact answer to their question.

"...The colors," Aziraphale said flatly.

"That's right, the colors! Now, you do know pride is a sin, right?"

Aziraphale might have been offended, if Crowley's tone didn't carry the hint of laughter that told him he was only teasing. He put on a show of being so anyway, purely for Crowley's benefit, just so he could see that toothy grin.

“All jokes aside, though, orange was a bold choice. Why’d you pick it?” Crowley asked, that familiar look of curiosity in his eyes.

“Copper,” Aziraphale corrected automatically, because he was particular about certain things. “Not orange.”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “Fine. Why’d you pick copper, then?”

---

Aziraphale was deep in thought when one of the other angels (after all this time, Aziraphale honestly couldn’t remember their name) led an entire host of new angels through his work area. He had already filled this sky with his favorite colors (every shade of blue and the lightest yellows imaginable) but now the sunrise had him a bit stumped. He had tried various colors, but they didn’t quite seem to fit right, and now he didn’t know what to do.

“Don’t mind us,” the angel said. “Just showing the new angels the ropes. They’ll pick up where you leave off. Starmakers, and all that.”

“Hmm? Oh, yes, that’s fine,” Aziraphale said distractedly, unable to tear his gaze away from his work. A deep green, perhaps? No, that didn’t make any sense at all.

“Right.” Aziraphale barely noticed that the angel seemed to take some small offense to being mostly ignored. “Come along, now, then,” he said to his flock. “There’s still much to see.” And then the angel left, with the rest following after him like ducklings, and soon they were all gone.

Well, all but one.

Aziraphale felt the presence behind him and turned to find an angel with hair the color of flames that seemed to dance in the breeze in much the same way, too. Though he was younger than Aziraphale, the other angel had a few good inches on him and he had angles in places where Aziraphale had never seen them before. He watched him wring his hands together, recognizing the same nervousness that he felt in front of his superiors.

“Can I help you?” he asked gently, not wanting to startle the poor thing.

“I just- It’s really- really beautiful,” he stammered out awkwardly. “Just thought I should tell you.”

Aziraphale beamed. “Come here,” he said, beckoning with his hand and leading him around to the night side, where Aziraphale had placed the deepest blues he could conceive of. “This is where you’ll be working.”

The angel stared in awe. “I didn’t know anything could be so blue,” he breathed out.

Aziraphale’s smile grew wider and he flushed. “You should probably catch up with your group,” he said. “Before they notice you’re gone.”

"Oh!” the angel started. “Right!” And he hurried off, throwing a quick thank you and a goodbye over his shoulder.

Aziraphale watched him go, a new sort of warmth filling his chest. As he finally began working on the sunset, visions of copper curls filled his head and a soft smile remained perched on his lips.

---

Aziraphale thought of admitting to everything, then. How he still remembered how Crowley often came to visit him as he finished up with everything. How he had stretched the project well past its due date to prolong the time they spent together. How the reprimand he received had been worth it just to see that spark in Crowley’s eyes. How he wondered if Crowley remembered it all, too.

He thought of telling him how his heart had broken in Eden when he had slithered up next to him on the wall and Aziraphale realized that his inspiration had Fallen. How his devastation faded away as he got to know him again and came to find that becoming a demon really hadn’t changed him at all.

How he found himself still deeply, deeply in love.

But that was a discussion for another time. When the false start to the end of the world led him back to Crowley’s flat. When he would abandon all pretense and bare his soul, letting the confessions pour out until Crowley staunched the flow with his lips.

“You know,” he mused instead. “I don’t really recall.”

#Good Omens #good omens fanfiction #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #anthony j crowley #crowley #my fic #skypainter!Aziraphale

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feathered-serpents · 4 years

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Yes...One year later, and I have yet another love confession post for the Husbands.

I know most people see the confession happening with Aziraphale confessing, and I love that! But I think it would be interesting if Crowley was the one who finally swallowed his fear (and his pride) and was the one who confessed to Aziraphale

Not that he’d be smooth about it, I mean, he’d probably start trying to be smooth about it.

Here’s the scene: They’ve gotten Heaven and Hell off their backs, they’re free. Crowley has taken Aziraphale out and he’s been playing up the night with high romance. Candlelit dinner, fancy restaurant, no expense spared (not that he actually spends money but hush), then he takes Aziraphale home. He puts on a record, there’s wine, Aziraphale’s never used fireplace is lit and crackling. Aziraphale is sitting in his desk chair, facing Crowley who’s sitting on the blanket-covered sofa with a full wine glass. Aziraphale has his spectacles on and is reading some old, dusty tome. He’s content, it has been a good night.

Right, now is the time.

Crowley swallows. He’s practiced this. In his head mostly. Once in the mirror- twice- maybe.

“Angel?” “Yes?”

In his head, this is when he says something like, “You’re an angel and you’re insufferable, but more often, you’re a bastard and I love that. I love you. You heard that? Cause I’m not saying it again.”

In the mirror hey says, “Bastard of an angel you are. I love you, you’re such a terrible angel that you made me love you.”

In this moment, he says nothing.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale glances at him over the rim of his glasses.

He takes a sip of his wine. It’s very dry wine. A poor choice for this moment.

Aziraphale sits up in his chair. “Are you alright?”

Crowley claws at the arm of the sofa. Grinds his jaw. In the back of his throat a hiss begins to form.

He says, “I thought you died on Saturday.”

“I did die,” confirms Aziraphale, calmly. “Well, I discorporated, briefly.”

“No,” says Crowley, “I thought- when I came into this shop and saw all that fire I thought- I thought they got you.”

“They got-” Aziraphale went stiff, his eyes settled on Crowley’s, and the demon was very grateful they were hidden behind his glasses.

“Oh,” said Aziraphale, “Oh dear-”

“No,” Crowley says, harsher than he intended to. He leans his head back against the sofa and hisses through his teeth, a thread of plush fabric from the sofa gets caught on his nail. “That’s not what this is about.”

“Then what are you going on about, dear boy?”

Crowley sighs, a long, dramatic, nervous sigh. Finally, he looks up.

“Aziraphale,” he begins. “When I came into the bookshop, or a moment...” He runs the top of his finger on the rim of the wine glass, filling the shop with the soothing, pitched tone. “The world wasn’t worth it.”

“W-wasn’t worth?”

“Saving.” Crowley finishes his wine. Taking it away from his lips with a loud ah. “If you weren’t in it.”

“Surely...you don’t mean that,” says Aziraphale. “That-that would mean.”

“I’m in love with you.”

Aziraphale blinked. “You’re...” He removed his full moon spectacles and placing them haphazardly on the desk behind him. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

"What was I supposed to say!” says Crowley, putting aside his glass. “What kind of demon loves!”

“I’ve loved you for eighty years!” says Aziraphale, standing from his chair.

“You’re an angel!” says Crowley, standing to meet him. “You love everything!”

“Not like this, not like-” Aziraphale stops. He scans Crowley with his eyes. He reaches one hand forward, tenderly but carefully brushing his fingertips against the demon’s. “Not like you.”

Crowley’s arm stiffened when Aziraphale touched him, his fingers twitched, he brushed Aziraphale’s palm. “Eighty years?”

“Not quite eighty...”

“I’m sorry...”

“It’s not your fault.” Aziraphale brushes his thumb over Crowley’s fingers. Then, looks up at him.

“Look at you...” he says, “I could- I could kiss you.”

“Yeah,” says Crowley, “You could.”

“Yes.” Aziraphale reaches up, and slowly pulls the sunglasses off of Crowley’s face. Folding them and tucking them into the front of his shirt. “I could.”

#Good Omens #ineffable husbands #long post

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thyra279 · 4 years

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High Hopes

For Day 4 of the Good Omens Celebration 2020.

Prompts: “Force” and “fruit” (this one got away with me but I’m gonna post it here for consistency as well as on Ao3.

On a warm autumn's day in 2005, Aziraphale's mobile phone rang out the same jarring electronic jingle 72 times before he managed to locate it behind an old bookcase full of A Breefe History of Northern Shropshire, vol. 1-281. Pushing the bookcase aside, he dusted off the little black-and-white screen and fixed it with a hard stare. The mobile, which had been firing off its jingles increasingly furiously, grew soft and mellow on the 73th ring, and Aziraphale turned his attention to the Nokia's caller.

"Hullo, Crowley. You know, I never should have let you talk to into getting me this portable telephone, it keeps moving about and hiding itself in the-"

"Aziraphale." Oh. Crowley's voice sounded harsh, which wasn't unusual, but also very noticeably strained, which was.

"Are you alright, dear?"

"Uhhrm…"

"Crowley? Whatever's the matter?"

"I've… I've been arrested."

"Have you, now?" Aziraphale let out a relieved little chuckle and sat down in his favourite chair. It was nothing the demon hadn't tried before. Keep at shadowy, nefarious business long enough, and it was bound to happen. He'd lost count of how often Crowley had found himself jumbled up with the police.[1]

Aziraphale himself had found himself come into too close contact with London's various police forces a few times since their invention. He usually encountered the Mets, though he had a soft spot for The City of London Police and carried out his substitute demonic temptations within their Square Mile if he could help it. Politicians and bankers were soft targets. Besides, the City Police always served up bourbon biscuits during their questioning. The angel idly wondered if Crowley had been served up any biscuity treats during his questioning and before being hit with an embarrassing pinch of jealousy.

"When'll you be done, do you reckon? You could come over for wine and commiserations later, perhaps? I think a Chateau Cheval should do quite nicely." He lifted a hand to play with the phone cable, then remembered it wasn't there. "…Bring some biscuits."

"It'saaah. It's a little more complicated than that, I'm afraid."

"What's the problem?"

"Nfffhhh well, I've been in here for coming up two weeks for starters." Aziraphale sat up.

"Crowley, are you- are you in jail?"

"I, uh. Yeah."

"Well, get out of there!"

"Told you it was complicated."

"Do you need me to, ah, to come and get you?"

There was an interesting kind of silence at the other end. "Angel, are you offering to come and break me out of jail?"

"I'm an angel, I do not break anyone out of jails," Aziraphale deadpanned with the practice of several centuries. "It would be a rescue."

"Well, it won't work. I mean, it would work. I could easily get out of here, that's not the issue. Wouldn't solve the actual problem."

"What is the problem then?"

"It's erhhh…"

Aziraphale shifted in his seat, growing a little impatient. "Where are you? What happened?"

The demon sighed. "I'm at Dartmoor Prison. Got arrested near Torquay."

"What were you doing in Cornwall of all places?"

"I… well. I've got a piece of land near Torquay, in a nice deserted place. Thought it'd be out of the way enough. It's quite a big piece of land, really. Massive, actually."

The angel couldn't suppress another tut. "What would you need a massive piece of land for, Crowley?"

"I, ah, I built a farm." Aziraphale could sense the demon's embarrassment pulsing down the line. He himself was caught entirely off guard at the aggressively urbanite yuppie's confession, but tried to sound accepting.

"Oh. Right. What do you do with it, as it were?"

"I grow… things."

"Yes, well-"

"Mainly weed."

"…What?"

"Marijuana, Angel."

"Yes, I know what weed is, thank you." For the second time, Aziraphale felt a rush of relief. "That's alright, then, isn't it? I'm sure growing illegal cannabis is a perfectly acceptable demonic activity. I assume that's why you were arrested?"

"Yup." For a moment, a hint of pride entered the demon's voice. "I've grown lots of it. Don't know if you saw the newspapers last Monday? Apparently, there was quite a big buzz about it being the second largest marijuana plant ever discovered in the UK?"

"Oh, yes," Aziraphale crooned. He hadn't so much as looked at an earthly newspaper for several months, but he didn't like to dampen the demon's (evil) spirits when he was already down. "It all sounded terribly impressive."

"Hnghyeah, well. The coppers said so themselves, actually. They only got a preliminary sweep of the place done, though, before I set my lawyers on them. We've been fighting their warrant. It's been good fun, actually, lots of frustrations all around. Easy job for my side, you know. And we always get bonus points on our job performance for getting lawyers involved. You know I can really use the, erh, goodwill this'll generate downstairs, it'll sort me out for the next few years."

Aziraphale nodded absentmindedly, which Crowley seemed to understand.

"Unfortunately, even my bastard lawyers and enough money to bribe a small state haven't been able to get the judge to drop the warrant. So according to the lawyers, Cornwall's righteous police force, narcotics division, will be able to do a full sweep of the farm some time the day after tomorrow."

"And why exactly is that a problem?" The angel offered when Crowley fell quiet. He was met with a great, heaving sigh loud enough to hear through the telephone line.

"The thing is." The demon drew a breath, then let it out again through hissing teeth. "The thing is. The weed farm's a front."

"…What?"

Crowley sounded flustered now, voice straining again with every word. "It's a front. The cannabis. 'S a cover."

"Why would you… what were you… what in Heaven's name are you doing that's so terrible that you thought a cannabis plantation would serve as an appropriate cover-up, Crowley?"

"Well, well hnghfff. Look, I can't tell you over the phone, I've got a reputation to maintain, alright? Anthony J. Crowley's been going strong since the war, and, and- don’t really want to let him go. Just. Just go out there tomorrow – I know you've got nothing on, don't even start – and get rid of the evidence for me. No, nah, leave the weed crops. But there's a barn. A green barn in the middle of it all. Burn it, please. Maybe don't look inside it, but – eurgh – s'fine if you have to. I don't care how you do it, but get rid of everything in there."

Aziraphale hesitated, more shaken by Crowley than he'd been for a good fifty years.

"I'm, erh, I don't really know, Crowley, I think you should tell me-"

"Aziraphale, please. Please, Angel." Crowley never begged.

"Oh. Oh, alright then." There was a rush of demonic relief down the phone.

"Tha-"

"Don't."

"Look, I'll make it up to you, alright. Whatever you want. Tell you what, I'll buy you sushi at that stuck-up little Japanese place you like so much, every bloody month for the next decade. If you want."

"Alright," Aziraphale huffed.

The demon started to sound slightly more like himself. "I'll throw in a good sake and dessert too if you promise never to bring this up ever again."

"I'll have to see for myself how bad this is, Crowley, before I make good on that promise."

"Fair, that's fair. Just please, Angel, 's no big deal, okay? It was just a little lapse of judgement. Here's how to get to the barn…"

And so, the very next day, the Principality found himself wandering down a dirt track in Cornwall, sore and irritable after hours on overnight public transport and more nervous than he'd care to admit at what he might have agreed to. The stench of the marijuana greeted him long before the greenhouses even became visible. A single police car was parked further down the track at the main entrance to the farm, so on reaching the edge of it, he looked casually left and right before dipping below the police tape. No one noticed him, and he quickly disappeared between row after endless row of huts and greenhouses.

The place was like a labyrinth – literally – and he had to rely on Crowley's instructions to find its centre. The air hummed with the insistent song of thousands of heat lamps. Aziraphale was beginning to suspect that he wasn't entirely immune to the charming waft of cannabis in the hot air around him when suddenly, there it was, a singular old green barn. It was singing at him. Aziraphale wasn't entirely certain he wasn't hallucinating it, but it felt sturdy enough beneath his grasp when he tore the heavy padlock away from the door. The door rattled irately at him, but at least the barn stopped singing.

He hesitated, one hand on the door. Crowley had always taken care, he suspected, to hide the darker sides of his demonic activities from him. He wasn't at all sure he wanted to be privy to them. Unbidden scenes of blood and chains and fires and screams sidled into his mind, finally breaking through the defences he'd constructed as soon as he'd put down the phone last night. He didn't want to know. And yet, he'd promised. He was an angel, and Crowley needed his help, and he'd promised.

Here goes, he thought, allowing himself a deep, steadying gulp of air (and wasn't that lovely, the sweet heady rush that came with it) before pushing the door aside.

Aziraphale blinked. Then blinked again. He blinked a total of 15 times before he entered.

Aziraphale had tried very hard not to imagine all the sinister things he might find in the middle of Crowley's marijuana plot. Even if he'd given himself over to pondering every possibility, he wouldn't have expected this.

The barn was lit up by the same warm, red glow as the rest of the farm. A few dusty skylights gave the room a sense of space that it didn't quite deserve. The air smelt sweet in here too, but it wasn't the pungent suffocation of the cannabis. No, in here, the air hummed with unexpected freshness, with the heady, delicious scent of fruit. There they were, lined up along the walls, a few peach trees, lemons, pears and berries – roses and apple trees too. All ripe, ready for the picking.

The fruit trees couldn't keep his attention, however. In the middle of the room was a little meadow full of wildflowers, bursting with colour. Bees whipped around from stem to stem, and towering over them all, stretching towards the skylights, were the tallest sunflowers Aziraphale had ever seen.

It was beautiful. An age went by while Aziraphale explored the flowers, overcome with surprise at their maker as he smelt, touched and tasted his way through the barn. He senses Crowley in every petal, in every lush green leaf, and couldn't stop himself from lying down in the middle of the meadow, giant sunflowers watching over him. He imagined Crowley here, sneaking in to do the same. It seemed absurd, the smooth, black hardness of Crowley in the middle of this colourful, buzzing force of life. Aziraphale ached to see him here, almost imagined that he could.

The skylights had gone dark above him by the time he got up. Only once on the other end of the barn, he faced what he'd come here to do. It seemed a terrible tragedy, and yet he'd made a commitment to Crowley.

With a great sigh, he lowered his trusty satchel from his shoulder, taking out a stack of little brown bags that hadn't been in there a moment before. He went around the meadow again, caressed every flower, letting it know how beautiful it was. He persuaded even the looming sunflowers to bend down and let go of a few of their seeds. Then he rounded on the fruit trees, trusty tartan tin in hand, and picked a single piece of fruit from each and every one and a little prickly cutting from every rose.

Satchel in hand, the angel took one final look at Crowley's dirty secret, this micro-paradise he'd hidden away. Then he snapped his fingers and sent it all to somewhere he hoped was good, somewhere with fresh air and a warming sun, and just enough rainfall. He didn't notice the extra weight of his bag, and he kept it close, held it in his lap on the sleepy train back to London. Only once he made it safely back to the bookshop did he let go, taking care to count each and every brown bag, folding out their creases and speaking to them gently, as if the plants could still hear him.

He spent the next two weeks drying out the fruit until they let go of their precious cores, and when it all was ready, he put it all in the best firesafe and airtight container he could find.

The container found a new home behind a bookcase full of A Breefe History of Northern Shropshire, and it survived a fire, the apocalypse and the layers of dust that settled over it in the years after that.

Aziraphale never mentioned a word to Crowley, enjoying plenty of sushi, sake and dessert for his efforts.

He carefully guarded the little seedlings until a day, very far into the future indeed, after yet another war, when the angel casually floated the idea of the two of them acquiring a little cottage together somewhere outside of London and the demon scoffed in his face at such a ridiculous suggestion. Somewhere, perhaps, with a nice little garden that Crowley might take care of. He had just the thing to get it started.

[1] Some time during a dull few years in the 1970s, Aziraphale had gifted him a scratch map of the UK counties, instructing the demon to scratch off every county he'd been arrested in. Last time the angel had seen it, sometime during 2003, two thirds of the map had been revealed.

Link for the other (shorter) stories on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24037873/chapters/57837565

#goc2020 #good omens celebration #goodomenscelebration #good omens fic #ineffable husbands #crowley being a soft bastard #crowley #aziraphale #crowley and aziraphale #south downs #good omens fanfiction #anthony j crowley

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circuscarnage · 4 years

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Potion class panic.

Just a silly one-off fic featureing Sebek Zigvolt and Jack Howl. Thank you to @holyheaven for letting me use his idea.

Words: 1901.

Potions was one of most interesting classes at Night Raven Collage. It taught the students how to use items that they would not usually use in other settings, such as cauldrons and exotic ingredients. It also educated them on how to defend themselves without the use of their wands. It was remarkable what you could put into a tiny potion bottle. Divus had noted that a good magician always has a potion or two up their sleeve, 'just in case' anything were to happen.

In all honestly, they were quite handy. If you were defenceless and needed to run away from battle, just use a mist potion to distract your opponent as you made a safe escape. If you were facing a powerful enemy and were seconds away from death, you better hope you packed a healing elixir, otherwise... Well, you get the point.

The potion class for the first years was more tame, focusing on introducing the students slowly to the dangers of the magical liquids. Instead of throwing them into the deep end immediately, Crowley offered a calmer experience. Things really got exciting in the second year, but we are not here for that.

Students were paired up in teams of two, preparing a special potion set out by Divus Crewel, the potions teacher. Don't let his love of fashion fool you. Even though he may not look it, he is one of the most powerful potion masters at Night Raven. The potion they were preparing today was a weak transmutation potion. Divus warned that any misdemeanours when making this would earn a detention, as well as a stern talking to from Mozus. As such, everyone was on their best behaviour. Sebek was practising his own work, using the scales of mermaids, unicorn blood, and the hair of a phoenix to create his elixir. It was almost complete, all he had to do next was to stir and let it simmer for a few minuets. In all honestly, he didn't know what to do once he created it. He had no need for this potion, he could cast a transformation spell himself. Perhaps he could gift it to Malleus? Would he enjoy such a gift? He was already powerful enough, giving him something as trivial as this would be considered nothing but a trinket. But maybe he would like the thought?

Sebek was too busy in his own thoughts to notice another student carrying a few too many bottles. They fumbled around between their fingers before eventually letting one slip, and sending it cascading towards the floor. It shattered upon impact, sending a marvellous crash throughout the entire classroom before it was engulfed in a thick pink smoke. It was utter chaos. No one could see and inch in front of their face. A chorus of coughing and confused cries could be heard as students tried to swat the smoke away, opening windows and using text books to clear the room. "Is everyone alright?" Divus called as he batted the pink mist away with his free hand.

Once the mist has dispersed, everyone looked around, eager to see whether or not it had any effect. Potions class could be disastrous if something went wrong. It could be as small as turning a desk into a piece of cake, or as big as accidentally summoning an almighty fire demon hell bent on destroying the entire school. Thanks, Floyd.

But as the students searched around the classroom, they were disappointed at the lack of change. Everything seemed to be in place. Every potion bottle was securely where it was left, and not a singe desk had been transmuted into a terrible beast. There was a calm silence that lay over the students, letting out breaths of relief as they settled once again.

That was until the entire class had their attention drawn as the sound of another glass shattering filled the air. Simultaneously they turned in the direction of one student, who was standing next to a broken bottle filled with pink shimmery liquid, accompanied by a long and scaly crocodile tail. At first, Sebek was taken aback. He hadn't realised a crocodile had made its way into the school. He jumped back, surprised when he realised the tail was following him wherever he went. How did a crocodile even get in here? He turned himself around, trying to get a glimpse of the creature. But wherever he was facing, the crocodile seemed to be right behind. At this point, he seemed to have connected the dots. A mild panic started to build up in his chest, which seemed to affect the tail as well, as it started to flail wildly. Some students took the initiative to stand back, far away from the manic tail, while others attempted to stifle a laugh, amused by the tails antics.

With one wave of his hand Divus silenced the group of youngsters. His footsteps echoed through the room as he sauntered across the class, stopping to take a peek at the newly grown tail. It was quite the sight. Reminiscing that of a real reptile tail, it swished back and forth under his gaze. "How peculiar." He hummed. After a moment of inspecting it, he walked back over to his desk, where he took out an old purple book, carved with strange markings. He flipped through the pages before settling on one towards the middle. "Not to worry, I'll have an antidote ready later. You'll just have to wait it out until then."

The tail was going to be a challenge. Even though it only came down to the back of his knees, it was plenty powerful, and could cause some serious damage if he wasn't careful. He needed to get this sorted quickly. With this tail causing problems, he wouldn't be able to protect Malleus properly! Even the thought of not being there when Malleus needed him most was enough to send Sebek into a blind panic. His emotions also seemed to affect the tails behaviour, as it started to flail wildly again, knocking over several more potion bottles, sending them crashing towards the floor.

"Bad pub!" Divus called from the other side of the class as he stormed over. Sebek stood still, fearing that his behaviour would leave a bad mark on his record. When he eventually made his way over, Divus took Sebek by the collar as he lead him outside the classroom, treating him like a new puppy who had torn up his favourite cushion. "I advise you to stay out of trouble until I sort this out." With one hand on the door frame, and the other placed on his temple, Divus let out one final request before slamming the door in Sebeks face.

"Now, sit. And stay."

Sebek walked along the cobbled path of Night Raven, letting his tail swish lazily behind him. Ever since he left the classroom, it calmed down, no longer feeling the need to rampage among the potion bottles. Originally, he had planned to stay put like Divus told him to, but Crowley was patrolling the halls that day, and advised that he take a walk around the school to let off some steam. It seemed to be working.

He let out a small sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He sincerely hoped that Divus wouldn't be mad at him. Surely, he would understand it was an honest mistake. He also hoped the other students would forgive him, he didn't mean to cause a scene. With any luck, they would be able to continue the class without any more disruptions.

"The hell happened to you?" Jacks voice cut through Sebeks inner monologue, and drew his attention towards the Savanaclaw student sitting idly by himself on a nearby bench. The white wolf gestured to the newly grown tail, studying it intently. He had seen students with similar features, those being from the reptile family, ranging from lizard tails, snake like features, and even tortoise shells. However, he knew Sebek wasn't one of them. And seeing him with one was... weird, to say the least.

"There was an... accident." Sebek confessed before telling his friend what had transpired in the class before. The stress seemed to be getting to him, as when he explained all the horrors of having said tail, it started to swing again, smacking into whatever poor soul was walking past them. Jack grumbled as he watched Sebek try to get a grip on his own tail, flustered and fumbling around. It looked like a dog trying to chance its own tail, and failing miserably. Of all the students here, the savanaclaw ones were the ones most experienced with having extra limbs. Jack was reminded of his own tail, remembering how hard it was to control when he was younger. For some reason, that seemed to piss him off more.

"Christ, can you get a grip on that thing?" Jack called out, his hand instinctively gripping onto Sebeks new tail and keeping it in place. It was against the Savanaclaw rules to grab another students tail, but Sebek wasn't in Savanaclaw, and this situation was already getting out of hand. His tail seemed to become even more panicked as it squirmed under his tight hold. Sebek was no different, getting agitated by this fact. The new nerve endings in his tail seemed to scream at him, compelling him to fight back.

"H-hey!" Without thinking, Sebek grabbed onto Jacks already heightened tail, causing it to bush up even more. At first, Sebek had grabbed Jack's tail as a way to get back at him. An eye for an eye, or in this case, a tail for a tail. But as he met the others gaze, he could practically feel the atmosphere change around them.

Canines bared, ears heightened, and eyes glaring with animistic ferocity, Jack seemed ready and raring to pounce at any given moment. "Let. Go." Jack barked as he stared Sebek down with frightening intensity. It didn't take much for Sebek to match Jack's bloodthirsty stare. He was already quite intimidating without even trying, now he looked like he could take down Malleus with a single glare. "You first." Both males seemed to be increasingly reluctant to back down first, each of them having individual pride that they were not willing to put aside.

They stood there for a moment, glaring each other down, growls starting to emerge in their throats. It wasn't until the sound of someone clearing their own throat that they realised they weren't alone. Another student had stumbled upon the scene, and was trying to process what was happening. "Divus is looking for you, said something about an antidote?" As the student spoke, they couldn't help notice the strange situation they had walked upon. Their face furrowed in confusion as they let out a shaky question, "Is that a tail?"

Both men immediately let go of the other and straightened up, brushing off the remaining hostility that lingered in the air. Sebek coughed to clear any more awkwardness before speaking. "Thank you for reminding me, I had better be on my way." He turned back to Jack, having the courtesy to at least bid him a farewell. Jack only turned away and let out a small growl, still mad about having his tail grabbed. Sebek made a mental note to apologise for that later.

#twisted wonderland #sebek zigvolt #jack howl #one off #thank you for reading #Should I do more of these?#They are really fun to write

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nerdsxenite · 4 years

Text

Words and Actions

Good Omens Secret Santa’s Gift to @alendilsama, I hope you like it!

***********

Crowley lift his glass at Aziraphale’s direction. “To the world,” said the demon.

“To the world,” said Aziraphale before slightly hitting the demon’s glass with his own.

The angel took a sip of his drink as he sent little loving glares at Crowley, who kept looking straight at Aziraphale as always.

Aziraphale leaned at the demon’s direction with a mischievous smile on his lips. “Oh, Crowley! I just can’t stop wishing that you could’ve seen the faces those demons made when you didn’t melt in that tub like they’ve planned.”

“Tell me everything, Angel,” said Crowley.

“Oh, no, you first, my dear. I gave you some already but you hadn’t given me a single clue about how it went in Heaven,” said Aziraphale truly curious.

The angel sipped his drink one more time while he observed the demon, who seemed to be wondering if or what he would tell the other.

Crowley gave one of his demonic smirks, one of those he’d use when he was pleased with a bad job well done. “I breathed fire on their faces,” he told the angel.

Aziraphale looked surprised and amazed at the same time. “You didn’t.”

“I did,” Crowley assured him. “Right at Gabriel’s direction. It didn’t hit but they might have nightmares with you, even if they don’t sleep.”

“In any other circumstance, my dear, I would strongly disapprove your attitude. However, today, I shall thank you.”

“Come on, Angel! I should be the one thanking you for making trouble in hell in my name and messing up with the bosses, no less.”

They laughed, each one imagining their respective bosses terrified of them, then, slowly their laughs subsided. Crowley dropped his head a little and stared at his cup on the table. “We did it, didn’t we?”

“Yes, dear, we did it.”

“Until the next Armageddon comes,” reminded the demon gloomy.

“Yes,” agreed the angel.

Aziraphale silently gave some thought to how much time they might have until the next Armageddon. Will it be more six thousand years? Will humanity do it on its own? After all, it didn’t seem so far from it. For how long would he be able to stay at their own side in peace without having to worry about the end of the world, the end of them?

“Crowley, would come to my bookshop with me?” Aziraphale asked without looking at Crowley, still half-concentrated on his thoughts.

“Sure, Angel,” replied the demon quickly a little surprised with the request. “I’m an unemployed demon now. My agenda is empty.”

That made the angel smile for a moment then he thought he was an unemployed angel. What was he supposed to do from now on? Just whatever he wanted? It was quite terrifying and exciting at the same time. However, first things first. He had something to discuss with Crowley, which required somewhere private. That was why he asked the demon to go to his bookshop. He would take care of that, then, he would throw himself at the issue of what he would be doing with his life without Heaven’s missions and orders.

Crowley paid the bill and they walked to the angel’s bookshop in silence. The demon was getting nervous in anticipation of what the angel wanted by asking him to go his bookshop. Aziraphale looked a bit down, which he couldn’t understand why very well. The demon was processing all the events of the last days and even more of the last ours, but he couldn’t be feeling more free and relieved. He thought Aziraphale should be feeling the same, but there was something disturbing the angel’s peace of mind.

At the bookshop, they walked straight to the back room where they usually had their talks over wine, which Aziraphale went to grab a bottle as Crowley got himself comfortable by sprawling at the angel’s couch.

Aziraphale returned with the wine and two glasses, poured some of the drink on one glass and offered it to Crowley, who thanked the other with a nod. The angel poured some wine for himself and sat at his favorite armchair across the demon.

The demon sipped his wine while observing Aziraphale, who was only grabbing his glass with both hands as if he was holding for dear life. The angel’s eyes where unfocused but fixed somewhere on the floor between them. Crowley wanted to ask what was wrong, but held back for the other. He could see the angel trying to decide how to start that conversation, so he kept his curiosity and worry at bay, ready to give Aziraphale as much time as he would need.

“Crowley, I need to apologize to you,” said Aziraphale still looking at the ground.

“Apologize? What for, Angel?” asked Crowley confused.

“For all the times I denied our friendship or said that I don’t like you or accused you for terrible things the humans were responsible for. All the times I hurt your feelings by assuming the worst just because you are a demon, although, I know you are not like the others. I’m so, so sorry, Crowley!” apologized the angel raising his head and looking at the demon’s direction thought not at him exactly.

“There’s no need of that, Angel! I know you didn’t mean it,” said Crowley trying to sound cool and comforting at the same time.

“I’m glad you know, but I do need to apologize!” insisted Aziraphale. “You are the most important person to me, Crowley, and from now on, I will say so to whoever is willing to hear me and also to those who isn’t. Whenever someone calls you my friend, I won’t deny it. I won’t deny that I like you. I won’t deny that we have known each other and helped each other for so long. I will show them my pride and gratitude for having you with me… on our side. Oh, my dear, I’m so sorry for what I said at the bandstand!”

“Angel, please, stop that. I know all those things already. Why do you think I still came back to you twice after our meeting at the bandstand? You were forcing yourself so much it made me feel bad for pushing it, I thought about giving you some time to cool off but Hell found out about me and things got quite crazy.”

“I still needed to say it all aloud anyway,” said Aziraphale once again dropping his head. The angel had that look as if he was about to cry, feeling needy and lonely, silently asking for a hug though unable to voice it.

Crowley have been watching the angel long enough to recognize some signals, especially those regarding what the other wanted or needed but would never ask. “Aziraphale, come here,” said Crowley as he got up putting his glass aside on a nearby table and opening his arms.

Aziraphale put his own drink at the table, got up from his armchair and practically launched himself over Crowley eagerly for the hug.

“I accept your apologies but you have to stop apologizing for all those things you did because you were afraid of what might have happened if any of our former sides had found out about us,” said the demon rubbing the angel’s back in a soothing move.

“I have always felt so bad about it, dear,” confessed the angel. “You didn’t deserve it. Every time I would see my words had hurt you, —“

“Shush. It was only at first, Angel, then I would see that you didn’t mean it and you were already sorry, although you couldn’t say it.”

“That’s precisely why I’m doing it now! I should have done it sooner, actually, but we still had that last puzzle to solve… I’m so glad you accept my apologies, Crowley! It’s such a relief!”

“I had accept them even before you spoke, Angel. Feeling better now?” asked Crowley getting away from the angel only enough to allow them to look at each other.

“Absolutely, dear, thank you,” said the angel finally looking at the other’s eyes – actually sunglasses.

They stared at each other in silence for longer than usual then Crowley swallowed hard and cleared his throat.

“Now it’s my turn, Angel,” said the demon sounding slightly afraid and nervous. “There’s something I have been crazy to tell you… Well, to tell you with words, ‘cause I’m sure you know already. You are the most intelligent person I have ever met, after all. So, the thing is…”

Crowley cleared his throat again.

“What I want to say is… Gotta say… Arg! Why is it so hard?!”

Crowley broke the hug and moved away from Aziraphale exasperated with himself. The angel stayed still only observing the other, patiently waiting for Crowley to continue.

The demon paced in front of the angel while trying to start a sentence he could finish, but all his attempts were fruitless.

Why couldn’t he say it? It had been stuck on his throat for millenia and now he just couldn’t say it! Crowley even dreamed with the day he would be able to finally – finally! – tell the angel and now… the words seemed to deny themselves from leaving his mouth!

“Crowley, dear, if I may suggest…,” said the angel feeling bad for the demon’s discomfort and irritation. “Do you think you could say it with actions?”

“Actions?” asked the demon confused but also curious to understand what the angel meant with that.

“Well, yes, actions,” Aziraphale repeated hoping it wouldn’t sound as something stupid. “Something that may convey your feelings and intentions leaving no place for doubts nor misunderstandings.”

“For example?” asked Crowley, he had calmed down with the angel’s suggestion. He got closer to Aziraphale moving slowly as a chaser after its prey, a snake about to strike a fussy mouse.

“I-I don’t know. Yo-you have always been the best when it came to it,” said Aziraphale unable to keep his eyes nor his hands quiet. He looked everywhere around his bookshop though always looking at the demon before he would change the object of his fake attention, while his hands would rub each other, or play with his golden ring or manicured nails.

“I wouldn’t say that, Angel. You took action when you decided to give away your flaming sword,” said the demon stepping closer. “And when you gave me that thermos filled with holy water,” one more step closer. “And when you raised your sword, ready to fight Satan himself,” said stopping right in front the angel capturing his eyes only for himself. “And especially, when you held my hand on the bus we took from Tadfield to my flat.”

Crowley took Aziraphale’s right hand with his left one and interlaced their fingers. The demon circled the angel’s waist with his right arm, resting his free hand at the other’s back.

“Those are nothing when compared to all the things you ever did, my dear. Keep doing…,” said the angel as if he was out of breath.

“Do you want me to stop, Angel?” asked Crowley half joking and half-worrying for ‘going too fast’.

“Oh, please, don’t you dare stop!” said Aziraphale grabbing Crowley’s right shoulder with his free hand for support and incentive.

Crowley chuckled and leaned closer to Aziraphale, lightly brushing his nose against the other’s, making the angel smile softly as he did so, then turned his head slightly to his right as Aziraphale reflected the move to the opposite direction. Slowly, warmly, gently, sweetly, calmly their lips met, sealing a silent vow to all eternity.

To love one another.

To take care of each other.

To protect the other and themselves.

To fight for their love, life and world.

After a while, they separated their mouths breathing hard.

“I love you too, Crowley. I love you so, so much!” said Aziraphale looking at the other with his eyes full of love and adoration.

“Aziraphale, I… I… Damn it!” said Crowley getting frustrated for not finishing the sentence he wanted so much to finish.

“It’s all right, dear,” assured the angel. “You may not be able to say it but I can feel it clearly and powerfully in my essence and heart.”

“I’m sorry, Angel. I wish I could say it,” Crowley apologized.

“But you do! You have being telling me with your actions. I wish I could have answered properly before.”

“Well, now you’ve got the chance to compensate me,” said the demon smiling mischievously.

“Oh, you old serpent! I sure will!” said Aziraphale smiling brightly then pulled the demon for another kiss, this one deeper and longer than their first.

***********

Thanks @mabsgatos for inviting me to participate!

#GoodOmensSecretSanta #good omens secret santa #GoodOmensOneshot

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citrontartellete · 5 years

Text

Truly, Madly, Deeply

This fic is for the beuatiful, beautiful, beuatiful brazilllian fandom of Good Omens, I should´ve wirite this one in my native language? Yes, but I needed to practice my writing in english.

Inspired by the prompt “If Crowley gave Aziraphale Mr.Darcy speech to confess his feelings’ I modified a little mr.Darcy´s speech. Hope you all like it.

Truly, Madly, Deeply

6 months Post- Amargeddon´t

It was a sunny day; well as sunny, as can get in the middle of the British spring and his hands were sweating. Not that he was going to admit it, ever! He is a fucking demon. Demons don´t get nervous for Satan’s sakes! Crowley bit his lip and shot a last glance to the picnic basket full of his and Aziraphale’s favourites treats éclairs, macaroons, chocolate cake, small Parma ham sandwiches, crepes and of course two or three bottles of Veuve Clicquot. He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, his heart thundering in his chest. Today was going to be the day. The one he finally would confess his feelings, oh well, if he didn´t got too nervous, because Crowley was almost sure that he would burst into flames before he could say anything or his wings were going to just manifest themselves because of his nervousness, he is too anxious to have control about things. Really. None should feel like this. It´s just like hell, in the beginning he managed to brush it aside and keep their arrangement and small encounters friendly. All that ‘I will keep it friendly’ thing did is cause this pain in his chest. He could not keep it for himself any longer, especially now. Six months ago, they almost lose everything they loved; including each other and the feeling of losing Aziraphale even for a few hours was unbearable, too painful to put into words Crowley did not want to feel like this ever again, that was when he knew he had to tell his angel everything he was feeling, each word. Hell and Heaven be damned. Therefore, the demon came with a perfect plan, make surprise picnic in the countryside and finally, finally confess his feelings. Perfect plan. He parked his Bentley in front of the bookshop seeing the angel already waiting for him on the pavement. The demon frowned a little he never had seen Aziraphale wearing jeans and converses before and he quite liked it, fitted than angel perfectly, although the colours did not changed at all blue jeans, white converses, blue shirt, with a nice blue cardigan. Crowley did not think possible to fall in love more with the angel. But here he is drooling over Aziraphale because, the blues of his shirt and cardigan brought his clear coloured eyes even more and made him look so bloody shaggable. Crowley wanted to scream. The angel was a walking temptation.

‘Hello Crowley, dear !’ the angel smiled and waved.

‘Get in the car angel’ Crowley said and waited nervously as he watched Aziraphale moving to get into the car. The angel was comfortably seat at his side ‘Where you got this clothes, angel ?’

‘I´ve miracled them. You don’t like it ?’ Aziraphale answered frowning a little. He sounded almost sad. Crowley absolutely loved it, not that he was going to say it out loud because, he was afraid he might say something inappropriate like Oh angel, I love it very much, all I want to do right is drag you back to the bookshop and shag you ‘till we both start a new apocalypse.

‘It´s different. It´s all’

‘In a bad way ?’

‘In a good way, angel’ Aziraphale smiled gently, the smiling reaching up to his eyes making them spark with joy. I swear he is going to kill me, the demon thought ‘Where are we going ?’

‘To the countryside. For a picnic’ the angel giggled and gently patted Crowley´s thigh as way to show how much he loved the idea. Crowley ignited the car again and they drove in a comfortable silence sometimes talking about the weather or what about they are going to do now that they didn´t have head offices to respond to. The demon thought he was imagining things because at each moment the angel stared at him, as if he was the most precious thing in the world while gently caressing his legs smiling to himself before looking to the landscape outside the window again. Of course, he is imagining things; because Aziraphale is an angel so it is only natural, that he looked at everything with all the love in the world.

‘You are too quiet today dear. Not even music you are listening to and I know how much you love music’ the angel said staring at him again. The demon´s mouth went dry.

‘I know you don’t like the type of music that I listen to Aziraphale, so….’ It was his answer. The angel smiled again, one of those mysterious smiles of his. The one that Crowley clearly read, as I know something you do not know. He hated it. It made him feel uneasy.

‘Do you mind if I sing then ?’

‘You sing ?’ The demon shouted in surprise ‘Obviously you can sing being a bloody angel and all’ and then Aziraphale started to sing. Just Like Heaven, in a perfect voice and tune like he was born to do it and then Queen all of Crowley´s favourites. If a few moments the demon doubted it now he was sure, his beloved angel was trying to kill him today.

***

Apollo´s Temple, Stourhead Garden, Wiltshire.

Aziraphale was puzzled. Did Crowley know where they were in ? Did he know that place was considered romantic by hundreds of thousands of mortal girls around the world ? That one of the most beautiful scenes of the cinema was recorded right here ? Did the demon know that he absolutely love Pride and Prejudice the book and the movie of 2005 ? The angel looked around. This is odd, he thought. He shook his head and helped his lovely demon to set the things. He knew about the longing glances Crowley was giving him, shifting at each second, fidgeting with his champagne flute. He also knew that demon loved him. He loved him too. He did not say anything before because there were so much between them. Heaven and Hell, reports and being completely honest Aziraphale was completely afraid. Not for himself but, for Crowley´s life. He dreaded what heaven or hell could do to his beloved demon, if they ever knew they were fraternising. So he drowned all his feelings for the demon down inside him, inside his mind, kept down on the bottom of his mind and heart for so long it hurt him but now they didn’t have anyone to respond to or to fear they were on their own side now.

‘Are you alright dear?’ Aziraphale asked, moving his hand to remove Crowley’s sunglasses ‘That is much better, there’s only us here no need for these glasses’ He watched as the demon swallowed hard, following the way his Adam pome bobbed, if he leaned in a little more he could kiss it or nibble and then kiss it, like he imagined doing for all this time. Sometimes he wondered how would be Crowley´s skin to the touch. Aziraphale was going insane.

‘Angel ?’ His demon called him, just then he noticed that he had been staring ‘Are you okay Aziraphale, because you are looking at me like I am one of your crepes’ Aziraphale laughed and sip more of his champagne before continuing :

‘I asked first dear’ the demon twitched a little more and looked away from him.

‘´Course it is, why do you ask ? Are you not liking it ?’ A nervousness that he never seen before was emanating from Crowley, enveloping him and making him give these rushed defensive answers.

‘I am loving it Crowley. Is just you bring me here of all places, then a nice picnic and you are acting nervously. What is happening ?’

‘What is the matter in coming here ? I like it, I quite like it, it´s a nice lovely place and…’ Crowley tried, sitting with legs crossed, resting his champagne flute on the tartan tablecloth the moment had arrived and he wasn’t sure if could tell everything without stutter. Of course, he knew the meaning of that place, he had watched Pride and Prejudice enough (not that he was going to admit it either but he loved this movie too) and he knew the angel loved that place, and that scene in special. He took a breath and closed his eyes, taking Aziraphale´s warm hands in his ‘Listen angel I have something – something to tell you…’

‘Your hands are cold and trembling my dear….’ The angel said, taking their joined hands to his lips and kissing Crowley’s. The demon shivered and stared at his beloved ‘…..Tell me dear, what is it ?’ The sincerity and the love on his angel´s bright blue eyes made Crowley´s head spin a little, so he took another breath again and then he started it :

‘Angel, I have struggled in vain and I can bear it no longer. These past few millennia have been a torment. I came to wherever you were with the single object of seeing you. I had to see you. I have fought against my better judgment, and ignored everything that we are our head offices and their expectations we being supposedly hereditary enemies’. The fact that you are heavenly and I´m no more than a bloody fallen angel that has been craving your affection since the beginning of the times, even though now our head offices will leave us alone, for a while or for the time they wish to . I put all these things aside in the past just to have a moment with you and now I ask you to end my agony. In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you’ Crowley said with a hoarse voice full of emotion, making sure every word is wrapped in love, so his angel could feel it in his bones, in his being whole being. He watched as Aziraphale, leaned in closer resting their forehead´s together their nose touching.

‘You bewitched me Crowley, body and soul and I love you, I love you, I love you…’ Aziraphale whispered, staring at him intertwining their fingers, dropping his gaze to his lips.

‘Angel….’ He whispered, then the angel kissed him, it wasn´t chaste as he expected, it was so full of love, of longing and unsaid things, their mouths almost devouring each other. Aziraphale´s hands on his neck, tracing the back of it gently. Crowley´s hands on his angel´s hips, holding him in an almost bruising touch. They break the kiss smiling like two fools. The angel hid his face on his demon neck placing soft kisses on his skin.

‘Are you happy ?’ Aziraphale asked.

‘Very much so’ Crowley answered, caressing the angel´s hair and shoulder.

‘How should I call you from now on, my dear ?’

‘When you are cross with me of Crowley or demon, when I do something that pleases you very much you can call me love, on our daily life it can be my dear and when you are extremely happy you can call me my love…’ The demon whispered on his angel ear feeling him shiver and giggle and look up at him again with bright eyes, moving to kiss him again, whispering softly on his lips

‘My love, my love, my love from the dawn of the times until the stars don´t shine anymore’ They kissed again, forgetting their picnic and the rest of the world.

Edited :)

#good omens #aziraphale x crowley #aziraphale #crowley #fluff #love confessions #my fic #tooth rotting fluff

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hekate1308 · 7 years

Text

The Not-So-Friendly Ghost

Basically, this is pure wish fulfillment. Also, no Beta this time around, because I want to see the reviews coming in whether I’ve gotten over my bitterness before I inflict my typos on anyone again.

Anyway, enjoy!

@dmsilvisart @shaonharryandpannisim

Things actually calm down for a while.

Maybe that is the very thing that puts Dean on edge, but anyway, he is the first of them to notice something’s up.

His things start... moving around. Only slightly, just a tick to the left and the right, but he was brought up to notice these things, so how can he not?

Still, he might just be paranoid, so he doesn’t bring it up to Sam or Cas, who just recently moved into the bunker once and for all. No reason to start the alarm just because he’s a little jumpy.

After all, why should the bunker be haunted of all places?

Only that it’s more than him being jumpy, because on the next hunt, he gets knocked around by a ghost who in turns gets thrown across the room.

What the hell?

At first he has no idea what is going on.

And then he remembers a samurai sword sliding into his hand.

There’s a ghost around. Has to be. It’s the only explanation. But why, and how?

He pretty soon figures out that it’s only around him anything remotely spooky happens, and never when he’s with anyone. Aside from when he’s hunting and his new... bodyguard decides to act.

Dean can’t really say why he doesn’t mention it to Sam or Cas; maybe, he’ll late think, he felt from the first this wasn’t an evil power.

How ironic, all things considered. But that’s for later, when he’s gotten used to this new normal.

For now, he’s curious enough to try an Ouija board one night.

“Hey” he says, feeling as silly as when he did his own ghosting around in a hospital so long ago, “You there?”

Before he can say another word, the arrow slitters over to Yes. If he was talking to a human, he’d say it was an impatient gesture.

“Okay. Next question. Do I know you?”

The cursor flies of the board, makes a circle through the room, and lands on Yes again.

“No need to be so dramatic, jeez. Just can you maybe give me a hint? Most people I know don’t have much of a life span...”

The arrow starts moving fast. He can barely keep track.

“Now, slow down – “ he stops talking because of the three letters he just read.

S-Q-U-I-R-

There are barely any words that start with this combo. There are barely any words that have this combo to begin with.

No. It can’t be. He wasn’t – he wouldn’t come back as a ghost –

“No way in Hell. If you really are who you say you are, tell me something only I would know.”

The cursor moves again.

T-H-E-T-R-I-P-L-E-T-S-W-E-R-E-B-L-O-N-D-E-S

Fair enough, but that’s easy to guess –

M-A-L-E-S

He swallows. “Crowley? Is it really you?”

The arrow draws circles around the word yes, then proceeds to hop up and down the board.

“Hey, I get it.” Dean blinks. Truth is, he has no idea what to do. So Crowley’s a ghost now. Should he help him move on? But that would certainly mean him landing back in hell, and why should they just repeat that? Crowley was- is – a friend. Kind of.

Also there’s the fact that Dean is so freaking happy he feels like bursting into song. He missed the damn demon, alright? Maybe a bit more than he let on when Sam and Cas commented on his bad mood. Repeatedly.

“You feel particularly vengeful? More than you used to be, I mean?”

The arrow skitters over to No.

“So basically you’re just... hanging out?”

Yes.

“Okay. Cool.”

He’s definitely not going back to sleep tonight. Remembering Bobby, he asks, “So if I... pour out a drink for you, you can actually sip it?”

Yes.

And that’s how he ends up sharing a drink with Crowley once more, if a bit more quietly than he’s used to, if he ignores the Ouija board, because the demon – ghost – whatever is apparently ecstatic about being able to communicate.

That last motel was god awful –

You needed way too long to figure out it was a tulpa three months ago in Miami –

That ghost was so pathetically weak –

It all runs together after a while, but Dean doesn’t mind in the slightest.

“Dean?” Sam asks the next morning.

“Yeah?”

“Is everything alright?”

“Sure” he says, looking from him to Cas, who looks as confused as Dean himself feels at the question.

“You were just humming while making me a spinach omelette.”

“So? Can’t a guy just be in a good mood for once?”

Because he is. He really is. Somehow, their team feels more complete now that Crowley’s returned to them – even if only in spirit form.

The Ouija board gets tiresome after a while, so Dean takes a pencil and notebook and it turns out Crowley can write things down. Awesome. He just has to be careful that the others don’t see it, because Crowley’s handwriting is pretty distinct. Seriously, did he practice calligraphy when he was alive?

He still hasn’t told Sam and Cas. Crowley is obviously haunting him specifically anyway, and he’s not doing anything evil, so what’s the damage?

He also knows exactly what they would say and do, and he’s not the least ready to say goodbye, he admits to himself a week after they first communicated.

Turns out he missed the demon more than even he realized.

Thing is, Dean gets that being haunted is supposed to be awful and scary and whatnot, especially if the one who’s haunting you was kind of a friend back when he was alive.

But truth is, it’s not. Sure, it can be a tad annoying when Crowley is bored, but it’s Crowley. Things could be way worse.

One morning, he stumbles into the kitchen. Next thing he knows, a cup of coffee drifts over, exactly how he likes it. “Thanks, man.”

It’s surprisingly easy to get used to it. It helps that Crowley’s bored out of his mind, apparently, because Dean simply stops dropping things, even when he’s had a few drinks; truth is, they just keep getting caught just in time by his helpful spirit pal, as he calls him in his head but never to his not-face.

“Hey!” he complains one afternoon when Crowley switches the channel. “That’s Doctor Sexy!”

I am dead and I can feel my brain cells evaporating, the notepad declares.

He rolls his eyes.

“What do you want to watch, your Highness?”

Huh. The 1995 version of Pride and Prejudice. He doesn’t even have that bad a taste.

It’s then and there that Dean admits to himself that he’s clinically insane, but can’t bring himself to care, especially because soon afterwards a bowl of popcorn comes drifting his way.

And then comes the night when Crowley decides to have an opinion. Dean’s about to reach for the bottle of jack to refill his glass when –

It skitters away.

“Hey!”

It skitters further. “What do you think you are doing – “

And with that, the bottle takes flight. “Oh no you don’t – “

Thing is, both Dean and Crowley were pretty sure Sam’s asleep and Cas in his room.

They aren’t. In fact, they’re just coming down the hallway and the bottle hits Sam straight in the face.

“What – “

And so Dean has no other choice but to confess.

Sam is incredulous at first. “A ghost demon? Dean, you’re not so gullible.”

“Do you really think I can’t tell? Crowley, write something down for Sam to make him see.”

Crowley complies. He usually does, unless Dean asks for really stupid stuff.

I am dead, Moose. Thought you’d be happy. You were the one who wanted to kill me dead, remember?

Sam stares at the paper. “That sounds like him.”

“Told you.”

“How long has this been going on?”

Dean shrugs. “A while.”

“A while?”

“He’s not doing any harm, is he?”

“Harm – Dean it’s Crowley as a ghost. God knows what he gets up to.”

That’s what you get for being a helping hand, the ghost writes.

Dean snorts.

“Dean – “

“Come on, Sam, we’re good. There’s no danger. Do you feel anything, Cas?”

“Now that I know a spirit’s here, I can feel it, but it’s definitely not vengeful.”

“There you have it, Sammy.”

He leaves them there, wishing that this could be all... Only it’s Sam, and if he knows one thing about his brother, it’s that he doesn’t know when to leave him alone.

And so a few days later, he tries again.

“Dean...” Sam trails off when he sees the chess board in front of him. “What are you doing?”

“Playing chess. Just try doing anything else with him; he’ll cheat every time.”

His king falls down. “Oh, don’t you start, you know you do.”

“Dean, can we talk?” his brother asks. “Alone?”

“Sure. Crowley, stay put, alright? And don’t even think about it. I know exactly where each piece is standing.”

He follows Sam into the library.

“So” his brother begins. “You were just playing chess. With a ghost who used to be a demon”.

“Yep. We were bored.”

“You were – Dean, don’t you realize this is a little bit crazy?”

“Compared to what? God’s sister?”

His brother sighs. “Alright I – look I’m a little nervous, that’s all.”

“Why? It’s Crowley.”

“Exactly!”

“If you’re worried he’s going to get crazy, don’t be. I think it has something to do with him not being human before he was a ghost, but – “

“Fine” Sam mutters and leaves.

Dean shrugs and returns to the game. “Alright, that bishop was not standing on E3 – ”

Crowley puts it back. “That’s better.”

He gets that most people would consider what he’s doing insane. On a case, they meet some other hunters, and while they’re discussing the options, he asks his notebook, “Any ideas?”

Rachel, the hunter, jumps when the pen gets taken up. “What’s that? Some Harry Potter horcrux thing?”

“Nah, just Caspar the helpful ghost” Dean simply replies, reading Crowley’s answer. “ A wraith? Could be. And you know you’re helpful, shut up.”

When Rachel looks at Sam, he shrugs.

It’s a wraith after all, and they deal with it soon enough.

That night, he gets woken by all of his books being thrown off their shelves.

“What the – Crowley, what are you – “

The Blade he used to fight through Purgatory flies across the room.

“Are you trying to kill someone, stop – “

His closet bursts open and his flannel shirts fall out.

“Crowley – “

The answer is just more chaos, and he would think his demon-slash-ghost-kind-of-friend has finally snapped, only...

Nothing has hit Dean yet. Sure, he’ll have to fix his room, but that’s just a small inconvenience.

Which means that this is not an angry ghost out to hurt him.

No, this is a ghost crying out in panic. But what can possible be the matter? If Dean or the others were in danger, Crowley would act rationally to prevent things from happening; so what –

Unless – if –

Dean sprints out of the bed. “Don’t worry, I got this.”

When he reaches the war room, he hears Cas. “Sam, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Cas, it’s getting out of hand. I caught him playing chess with the ghost in the war room.”

“It’s not just “a ghost””. Now Cas sounds decidedly bitter. “I know you want to help your brother, but sometimes you forget – “

“Cas, he was playing games with a demon turned ghost.”

“Chess is a highly interesting strategy game that involves – “

“For the last time: I am doing this. You can either stay or go.”

For one moment Dean is frozen, unable to breathe. For once things have calmed down, they have been hunting quietly, he actually feels pretty good about his life, and his brother wants to –

“Sam” Cas suddenly says, sounding serious, “I don’t think I – “

And that is all Dean needs to storm in and snatch the bowl out of Sam’s hands. “What the hell do you think you are doing?”

“What we always do, help spirits move on!”

“Move on to where? Do you know he’d end up in Heaven, for sure? No you don’t! And can’t you imagine how many demons would be glad to see him back in Hell?” Dean snarls, holding up the bowl, which is violently knocked out of his hands by Crowley.

“Look what you’re doing! What you’re turning into!”

“What do you mean!?”

“The old Dean would never have tolerated a ghost hanging around! We even helped Bobby go to Heaven – “

“When he went berserk, Sam. Crowley will never become a vicious spirit, because he already was – as a demon.”

“We don’t know that for sure!”

“No we don’t, but do you think I wouldn’t be able to tell?”

“We know ghosts can possess people” Sam argues.

Dean looks at him. Finally he says, “Sometimes I think you don’t know me at all.”

He turned and leaves.

He half-expects Cas to follow him, and he does. “Dean, I want you to know – “

“I heard you. You weren’t completely on board. Got it.”

Then, unexpectedly, Cas looks up and say, “Crowley, I apologize to you as well.”

A pillow flies from Dean’s bed and hits Cas on the head. “Pretty sure that was him patting you.”

“I can easily believe that” the angel deadpans.

Dean grins.

The next few days are tense. Sam is silent, Dean is still a bit angry with him, and Cas is... well, Cas.

At least Dean thinks so until he hears the angel talking to himself one day.

“No, no, that would make it worse, I think. Dean’s so happy you’re back. He would probably think it was Sam’s fault.”

Dean listens but doesn’t hear a thing. “Yes, I know. But you and Dean were closer when you were alive.”

He’s talking to Crowley. Dean really shouldn’t eavesdrop but can’t help it.

“Crowley, you must know that... Dean has considered you part of team free will for a while now. He once – I know he has faith in you.” After a pause he adds, “As do I.”

Next thing Dean hears sounds like the notebook being thrown against a wall.

“Crowley?” Cas asks but apparently gets no answer and Dean steals away.

He returns to his room and a piece of paper with the word EAVESDROPER and a caricature of him being painted on it. He chuckles. “Come on.”

He still keeps the drawing.

After another few days during which he pointedly asks Crowley for the most mundane stuff when Sam is around to show he’s not a goddamn monster, his brother appears to be relenting; but he only truly learns what it means to have a ghost on their side during another hunt, when a werewolf who just threw off Cas is about to rip Sam’s throat.

Because he suddenly throws his head back and yowls in pain, giving Sam time to scramble away and Dean to shoot him.

On the way home, Sam’s silent for a long time. Then, he says, “Thanks, Crowley.”

The lights go on and off three times.

“I agree” Dean says, and the world rights itself.

Over the next few months, Sam and Cas start to address Crowley randomly too.

“I don’t recognize that word” the angel explains one day when they’re working on a script in Ancient Greek, “but then, as you would say, it has been a while. Crowley, could you – “

He’s already scribbling down the translation.

On another occasion, Dean finds Sam in the library. “You looking for something?”

“I know there was this one book about Egypt spells, but – “

It falls down in front of Sam. “Thank you, Crowley.” He blinks. “Good God, I just realized I’ve gotten used to this.”

“Join the club” is all Dean replies.

And this seems to be the way things are, until they stumble across an old witch. She hasn’t done anything wrong, but Cas feels her powers on their trip through town, so they decide to check it out.

They didn’t realize how old she is.

Some of the pictures on her wall are drawings from Egypt, around three thousand years ago.

And because she’s so old, she has a few tricks up her sleeve.

Esmeralda (“Call me Esme”) has been nothing but friendly and even made them tea. Dean has put his notebook on the table out of pure habit by this point, but Crowley’s been remarkably silent.

Completely silent.

In fact...

“Oh don’t worry” Esme says, “I performed the spell while I was in the kitchen, he’s resting by now.”

And suddenly Dean knows exactly how Crowley felt that night because – because –

“Did you – you haven’t – “

God damnit, he’s a hunter, he’s not going to have a panic attack in some witch’s living room –

“Oh no – no dearie, of course not. I would never send him to Hell. He seems like such a sweetheart, and he’s so attached to all of you. I don’t think he realized what I was going to do, but honestly I didn’t even try to get in contact with him, because his wishes were rather clear.”

“His wishes? What – “

“Dean – “ Cas says, resting a hand on his arm. “Please, let her speak.”

“So he’s alright?” Sam asks at the same time.

“Oh yes. In fact, I think he’ll be a little bit more in a while... There are some perks to being the only witch who knew the ways of Ancient Egypt and there life after death spells...”

Dean has no idea what she even means, but he decides to wait. He can always put a bullet through her later.

It turns out to be the farthest from his mind when Crowley comes stumbling in from the kitchen, rubbing his eyes.

“Witches – all the same” he grumbles to himself. “Have to tell the boys that – “

“Crowley!?” Dean gets up an d walks over to him. “You made him visible?”

Esme actually looks scandalized. “What do you take me for? I’m not just a witch.”

Dean doesn’t understand until he’s close enough to realize –

Crowley is breathing.

He grabs his wrist.

“Squirrel, what? I’ve been trying for months to – “

“He has a pulse” Dean announces. “Crowley, you’re alive.”

“Human, of course, like his soul has been since he died” Esme says. “But I trust it’s enough.”

“Dean?” Sam asks, “Is that really him?”

“You bet” Dean replies while Crowley is busy figuring out how he came back to life and that now that he’s human, thanks are probably in order.

Sam nods. “Cas?”

“It’s as Esme says” he announces.

Thank God. Thank Esme. Whatever.

“We’ll have to clean out a room for you” he muses when they’re back in the Impala.

Like they did for Cas, months ago.

Crowley, who has until now been pretty silent, replies, “Oh how I’ll miss watching you sleep.”

“Dean doesn’t like that” Cas informs him.

“You really think I wasn’t aware?”

Dean catches Crowley’s eyes in the rear view mirror. Yep, still Crowley. Still a sarcastic bastard, still annoying, but human.

He finds he can live with that very well.

#my writings #crowley #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel

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