1 - 20 of 23 Bookmarked Items in Good Omens- Crowley/Aziraphale

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  1. *

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    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.

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  2. *

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    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

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  3. *

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    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.

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  4. *

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    “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.

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  5. *

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    Crowley and Aziraphale have been dancing around each other since the beginning. From Eden to London, it eventually becomes very hard to avoid the only other immortal around. And after so many centuries, having a physically body becomes a bit uncomfortable. Crowley is left to wonder what it is about Aziraphale that helps ease the ache in his soul. It would only take him 6000 years to figure out that it was rooted in something deeper all along.

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  6. *

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    “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.”

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  7. *

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    Aziraphale's fingers brushed [Crowley's] cheek, then turned his head slowly.

    "I'm asking you to think it over," he said, so quietly that Crowley almost couldn't hear him. "That's all."

    Crowley's stomach clenched harder. Somehow his hand had gotten ideas again and migrated in the direction of Aziraphale's waist, blindly creeping its way around, forcing the angel to lean slightly forward. This was the sort of thing reckless human teenagers did, or in the very least reckless human adults who hadn't gotten out much and were just beginning to notice how entrancing their bridge partners were.

    "Won't take much," Crowley said, and leaned over to kiss him.

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  8. *

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    “Oh yes,” Crowley said breezily. “This is my husband, Francis. He’s a gardener by trade. We were hoping you might have an opening. An estate such as this.”

    Aziraphale gaped from where he stood on the stoop, feeling his heart speed up. Husband? Francis? Gardener? He’d never agreed to any of this!

    **

    In which Aziraphale and Crowley pretend to be married while they stay at the Dowlings as Nanny and Francis.

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  9. *

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    And there it is, isn’t it? Something they’ve known for a long time, but haven’t named it. Have been too scared to name it. Something that speaks in their bones, in the space between them.

     

     

     

     

     

    Crowley and Aziraphale are turned human. This is the aftermath.

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  10. *

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    Crowley is very good at temptation, not so good with what comes afterwards.

    Aziraphale knows demons don't love so he is happy to take anything Crowley would give him.

    Both of them are too blind to realize the thing they want is right in front of them.

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  11. *

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    Crowley gets kidnapped and dragged back to Hell. It's up to Aziraphale to rescue him.

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  12. *

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    Crowley doesn't know what to do next, but he guesses he can be excused. Armageddon doesn't happen twice, after all. Maybe it's time for a real vacation – but first there are a couple things left unsaid.

    Aziraphale is, perhaps for the first time in his long tenure on Earth, sleeping soundly, and he’s doing it directly in the center of Crowley’s bed. He’s lying on his side, curled up on himself, fist tucked against his mouth. Intermittently, he murmurs in his sleep, little snatches of celestial language that make Crowley’s skin prickle as if he’s being watched from a great distance, but have little other effect.

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  13. *

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    Maybe he’d shown Crowley how to perform a few miracles, but that Crowley had taken to them so well was surely a sign that he wasn’t all bad. And maybe Aziraphale had let himself be called upon to perform a few temptations, but that was just testing the will of the faithful if you looked at it from a different angle.

    He wouldn’t have needed to resort to these techniques, he told himself, if Heaven hadn’t recalled so many of their other agents over the years, if humans with their sins and their saintliness hadn’t multiplied quite so quickly, if someone had explained to him precisely his position in the Plan. But they hadn’t, and he had to get along somehow.

    And anyway, if it were really so bad someone surely would have told him to stop doing it.

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  14. *

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    In the very Beginning of it all, there were an angel and... an angel.

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  15. *

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    “They think I’m immune to demon fire, see,” Aziraphale said, in a slightly airy voice. “So they had to… get creative.”

    “Aziraphale, what. Did. They. Do?”

    “Can’t you tell?” Aziraphale gave a little laugh. This must be what shock felt like. “Can’t you sense it?” He grabbed Crowley’s hand and pressed it to his chest, so the demon could feel his rapidly beating, very human heart. “I’m a human now, my dear. Very, very mortal.”

    Aziraphale is punished. Crowley refuses to accept it. Shenanigans, feelings, and plots ensue.

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  16. *

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    Aziraphale knew Crowley liked him. He'd known it with a horrible clarity since around 1100, which was at least a thousand years after the first time he'd thought of kissing Crowley, and some eight hundred and odd before it occurred to him that the specific quality of Crowley's regard could be very dangerous for both of them, if they actually admitted their feelings aloud.

    It was also two weeks since any of that had mattered at all anymore.

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  17. *

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    “Why did you come here?” Aziraphale interrupts. “Why do you keep doing this?” All the saving, he means, all the chasing after Aziraphale he does. It can’t only be that he’s not keen to endure a replacement. That can’t be it, not anymore. He’s going to get himself in trouble, and then it’ll be Aziraphale’s fault.

    Crowley’s mouth shuts with a click. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, reaches for the handle of the fork and taps his fingertips against it before setting his hands in his lap.

    When he speaks, it’s very soft. “Don’t you know?” he asks.

    Aziraphale, unnaccustomed to his heart refusing to translate why it throbs with such haste, shakes his head.

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  18. *

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    God should not have built them with such discrepancy, made them need for love, and long for wholeness, then left them to their own devices.

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  19. *

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    God considers Crowley's unyielding pining for Aziraphale, his acts during the End of the World, and his very genuine desire to protect Aziraphale, worth rewarding. She can't make him an Angel again, but She can nudge Aziraphale in the right direction.

    If nothing else, She'd really just like Crowley to stop using Her prayer inbox for endless soliloquies about Aziraphale.

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  20. *

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    “D’you realize,” [Crowley] said, “that we never tire of things humans get bored with on the regular?”

    Aziraphale shrugged, lazily basking. “I’ve always assumed it’s that we don’t tire of each other.”

    [FINALLY COMPLETE! #75 added 14 February 2019; ran from 10/1/05 - 2/14/19. My love to GO fandom, always.]

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    Chapters:
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