Good Omens- Crowley/Aziraphale
05 Aug 2019
Here in the South Downs cottage, Crowley has more than he ever thought he would: the two of them, safe, and he gets to live alongside Aziraphale every day. He still can't bring himself to say it, though, still finds himself wanting, doesn't want to drag the angel down with the mess of his love, doesn't want to ruin what they have.
Aziraphale, however, is getting tired of Crowley staring longingly off into the night sky, and confronts him.
There is more of a balance here than Crowley thought.
The angel smiles. That crinkling kindness, that laugh in the corner of him, bright and deathless and pure, and Crowley’s resolve is melting. Aziraphale does remove his glasses now, fingers brushing his temples, folds them into his own pocket, pocketing Crowley’s last defense. Neither of them looks away. The night sounds clutter around them, the sway of elderly oak branches, the gentle scuttle of a village turning itself into bed, reinventing for the next day, the caw and croon of things with feathers, searching for love. A knowing hum in an ancient throat, leaning in.
09 Nov 2019
After stopping the apocalypse, Crowley and Aziraphale finally take the next step in their six-thousand-year friendship. But when a spate of miracles sweeps across Soho and Mayfair, they realize their amorous escapades may have an unintended side effect. As they scramble to restore balance and an archangel arrives to investigate, Heaven and Hell’s messengers learn that you can never have too much of a good thing.
22 Jul 2019
Having defied Heaven and Hell for the sake of the world and each other, an angel and a demon prepare to face the consequences, and finally embrace what they truly fought for.
"...we have passed a door; and felt the wind that is the trumpet of liberty blow over the land of the living." —G.K. Chesterton, The Everlasting Man
31 Aug 2019
“How dare you!” Aziraphale shouts.
“It’s not personal!” the demon shouts back, peeking around the edge of the bookshelf. Aziraphale flings a blessing at him, but he jerks back before it can land. “I was assigned to you.”
“I’ll smite you back to Hell, you—you—snake!”
“Funny you should say that,” the demon mutters, before lifting his voice again. “Or how about we carry on what we’re doing and not attract the attention from Downstairs, yeah? Or Upstairs, for that matter.”
Or: Aziraphale has been assigned to secure The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch. He really shouldn’t have been surprised to learn that Hell had an agent of their own assigned to him.
Luckily for him, Crowley is a dreadful spy.
11 Oct 2019
“Angels don’t… we don’t touch, Crowley. Ever. I mean, you went to Heaven this morning, you saw what it’s like these days.”
These days, Crowley thought. Right. It hadn’t always been like that. His memory wasn’t clear, and certainly lacking something for being terminally cut off from God, but he didn’t remember it being so very cold.
“What are you saying?” he asked.
“It’s not that I didn’t like it, I swear, it’s just… so much.”