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banrionceallach · 4 years

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Reverse AU Crowley/Harry Omens Short

This will only make sense if you’ve read both my main fic and my scraps on AO3. Posting it anyway.

Raphael is still here.

He is still here and he keeps smiling at Aziraphale all the time.

Aziraphale keeps smiling back.

Crowley hates it.

He is not jealous, he tells himself, as he watches Raphael sit on a couch in the back of the bookshop. Raphael is currently pouring over an arcane text that Aziraphale thinks might solve the ‘angel from an alternate universe’ problem.

Crowley has known Aziraphale for six thousand years. He has argued and dined with and gotten drunk with the angel innumerable times. They’re best friends. Aziraphale walked into hell for him and sassed Michael into the bargain. He knows Aziraphale loves him. They are raising (another) child together, for Someone’s sake. Some alternate universe angel is not going to change that.

Even if he is basically a better version of Crowley.

Stupid angelic tosser. With his stupid round pupils and his stupid white wings and his stupid long braided hair that Aziraphale spent a whole minute complimenting after lunch.

( It is just possible that Crowley is trying to grow his hair out as quickly and discreetly as possible.)

Currently Crowley is alone with the Archangel Bloody Raphael, because the aforementioned child that Crowley and his angel are raising together had a sleepover with the former antichrist and Aziraphale has gone to Tadfield to pick him up and also consult the local witch on their Alternate Universe Angel problem. Normally picking up Harry from a friend’s house is something Crowley does in the Bentley, but today the knowledge that that would have left Aziraphale alone with Raphael for over an hour had made him strongly suggest that Aziraphale should go, and use the opportunity to consult the witch.

Crowley really hopes Book Girl has something. He doesn’t know how much more of the archangel’s presence he can take without jumping across the room and trying to claw his stupid perfect eyes out.

He notices the other red-head has put down his book and is looking at him with narrowed eyes.

“What are you looking at?” he demands.

Raphael shrugs innocently. “I was just surprised you didn’t go to Tadfield instead of Aziraphale.” He waves a hand at the piles of esoteric text cluttered around the room. “It would have been more efficient for you to bring Anathema here while we continued to research, wouldn’t it?”

“Leaving Aziraphale alone with you?” Crowley snaps, with rather more honesty than he prefers. “Not likely!”

Raphael arches a fine auburn eyebrow. “Are you always this possessive?” he asks and damn him, there is actual genuine concern in his tone. Who is he to be concerned about Aziraphale? He has his own version, yes? That he should be wanting to get back to? A tiny part of Crowley still doubts that. He can’t imagine a demon Aziraphale, can’t imagine Aziraphale Falling.

It hurts to think about.

“Possessive?” Crowley sputters, wrenching his mind away from the possibility of a horrified spiral into guilt. “I am not!”

And the thing is, he isn’t. Not usually. But of course, it occurs to him, it’s been rather easy to not be possessive when he can be safe in the knowledge that no one else on the planet has a hope of competing for Aziraphale’s affection. Not humans, not other demons, definitely not other angels.

Except now, there is another angel. An angel who never fell, still bathing in Her favour. With Crowley’s face. And, key point, without the more demonic attributes caused by the Fall.

He is polite and gentle and exudes a puppy-like bouncy enthusiasm and he keeps smiling at Aziraphale and Crowley hates everything about him.

“Really?”

“Really,” Crowley snaps back, baring his fangs. “I am concerned for his safety. For all I know, this could still be some trick by Above and Below to attack us. You could be in on it.”

“You really are very suspicious, aren’t you?” Raphael says, grinning like Crowley has just said something amusing.

“Demon,” Crowley snaps. “Goes with the job description. Suspicious, sly, evil demon.” He notes with satisfaction that his blunt reference to his status makes Raphael go pale and twitch slightly. Good.

“You’re not that demonic,” Raphael says softly after a moment, giving him a considering look. “I think Azirafell is worse. Better, I mean. At demoning.”

This is too much.

Crowley snarls and surges to his feet. “I,” he hisses, “am the Serpent in the Garden. The Fall of Man? Humanity exiled from Eden never to return? That was me. For six-thousand years I was Hell’s favourite demon. Don’t go thinking I am soft!”

Of course, it’s at this moment that Harry runs into the room, having just got back from Tadfield. “Dad! Dad! Is it true?”

Crowley draws his fangs back in so fast there’s an almost audible click. “Is what true?”

Harry is about to reply when he spots Raphael. Raphael stares at him, wide-eyed. Harry stares back, fascinated.

“Wow,” the nearly-thirteen-year-old breathes. “You really do look just like Dad! Weird!” Then Harry frowns. “Why don’t you have the cool eyes, though?”

Crowley flips from cursing Harry’s sense of timing to grinning widely. He and his angel have the Best Son. Objectively. It is fact.

Raphael makes a strangled noise. “Dad?” he manages to wheeze, still staring at Harry.

They had not mentioned Harry up until now as a precaution. Just in case Raphael was part of a plot against them. Watching Raphael almost choke in shock, Crowley is extra glad they’d not mentioned the young wizard.

He still has to squash the urge to snap ‘yes, this is our son’ in his most smug tone of voice. Crowley loves Harry and is not under any circumstances going to use him to score against the annoying stupid archangel who will be punted back to his own universe as soon as possible.

So instead he just waves, wiggling his fingers insouciantly at the Archangel. “That’s me.”

(It’s also Aziraphale, as well as James Potter, sadly deceased. People who start talking to Harry when he mentions his father soon learn to be alert for context clues.)

Raphael coughs, clearing his throat. “You’ve . . . adopted a child?” he says weakly.

“That’s right,” beams Aziraphale, who has just walked into the room behind Harry.

“Stole,” Crowley corrects. “We stole him. Evil, remember.”

“More like rescued,” says Harry, the little traitor. Raphael gives him a watery smile.

It turns out that (to Crowley’s great relief) Aziraphale has brought back a way to get Raphael home. Unfortunately, the ritual to do it takes hours to set up.

Raphael spends most of that time trying not to stare at Harry. He doesn’t really succeed.

Eventually, since they are now guaranteed to be archangel-free very soon, Crowley grudgingly explains how Harry came to be living with them.

Raphael is appalled.

“What do you mean, this headmaster knew and just left him with those people for ten years?” he hisses, his golden eyes narrow with outrage.

“He’d convinced himself that the blood ward was the only resort,” Aziraphale explains.

“Bullshit,” snaps Raphael and for a second Crowley almost likes him.

“Quite,” Aziraphale says. “We were less than happy with the state of affairs ourselves.”

“No kidding,” the archangel mutters. Right,” he says decisively. “Is that circle ready to get me home? I need to take a quick trip to Surrey. Just to check on something.”

It is possible, Crowley thinks, as Raphael steps into the circle and disappears in a flash, that the archangel will find that there is no alternate Harry. Or perhaps there’s no alternate Voldemort. Or Dumbledore. Who knows?

***

Harry Potter, aged almost thirteen, ran from Number 4 Privet Drive, his suitcase and his owl’s travelling cage thumping beside him. His could feel his heart jumping in his chest. He had never been so angry in his life. Why had he listened to Aunt Marge? Why hadn’t he done the smart thing and excused himself to the loo when she’d started to talk?

What was he going to do now?

A noise and sudden light, caught his attention. It was a car, approaching fast. When it reached Harry, it skidded to a stop. He backed away, fumbling for his wand.

Then the passenger’s window rolled down, and a man’s head emerged. “Hello,” the man said in a cheerful voice. “Harry, isn’t it?”

Harry gasped and backed away further.

“Look,” said the man, “I don’t normally get involved in these things, but my friend here” – he waved vaguely towards the driver, a man with long waves of red hair- “seems to think you need help.” The man squinted at Harry. “And from the looks of it, he’s right.”

An enraged roar, familiar to Harry, echoed out of the night.

Uncle Vernon, furious and getting closer.

“Alright,” said the driver, speaking for the first time, “that’s enough of that.”

Harry heard the sound of clicking fingers and suddenly found himself in the car’s back seat with Hedwig’s cage next to him. His seatbelt had already fastened itself. The big black dog, which he’d almost tripped over earlier, was sitting on the car floor and looking extremely puzzled.

“Really dear,” said the man in the passenger seat to the driver as the car sped off, Vernon Dursley’s furious shouts receding into the distance “Did you have to bring the dog too?”

“Yep. He’s a good dog.”

Harry swallowed and finally managed to speak. “People will come looking for me,” he said, trying to sound more confident than he felt.

The man in the passenger seat smiled at him. “Well I do hope so, my boy.” He nodded towards his friend. “Raf here is quite keen to give Albus Dumbledore a piece of his mind.”

#Good Omens #Harry Potter #Reverse Omens #Crossover crossover #because it makes me happy

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aethelflaedladyofmercia · 5 years

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Writing Crowley

So I’ve seen quite a few people say they find writing Crowley to be much harder than writing Aziraphale. As someone who has generally felt the opposite (shockingly!) I thought I’d throw out a few insights into his character. Feel free to add or even contradict (since some of these are more headcanons).

Crowley uses his cool exterior to hide his inner anxieties. This is Crowley 101, but yeah. He pretends to be James Bond so that people don’t see that deep down he really just wants a hug.

That said, Being the Hero (TM) is very important to him (weelllll being Aziraphale’s Hero) so he definitely has a tendency to go a bit over the top when he can play this role (see: Bastille, Nazi church, basically any time he gets to act like he knows what he’s doing). Conversely, when his plans fall apart, he gets a bit sullen and withdrawn, because he was left feeling exposed.

Despite all this, Crowley IS a happy guy. He likes to have a good time. Or more accurately, when Hell isn’t breathing down his neck and he gets to do something he enjoys (glue rare coins to sidewalks, drive the Bentley like a maniac, hang out with Aziraphale) he’s, well, he’s as happy as an angel with a plate full of crepes. As an example, look at him in the “getting drunk and plotting to become godfathers” scene. Yes they’re talking about the end of the world, but he got to go on a date, get pleasantly drunk, babble for hours, he’s so comfortable he’s taken his glasses off - and leaves them off even when he sobers up - and he’s convincing Aziraphale to spend a very large amount of time with him over the next 11 years. He’s in his element, and he looks genuinely happy.

Speaking of making plans, Crowley has two levels when it comes to planning: (1) Everything is laid out in an elaborate, multi-part scheme that is the biggest of Go Bigs where he gets to be the cool suave hero or whatever the appropriate genre equivalent is, yet somehow he’s failed to think of one essential point which will ultimately blow up in his face; (2) “Uuuuuuh I’ve got nothing but I’ll surely have a plan in the time it takes to stand up and walk three steps.”

Crowley thinks he has a better grasp of the human psyche than anyone in Hell, and he’s probably right. He knows how humans think, knows how to get under their skin, knows how to make them do what he wants better than literally anyone. He thinks all of Hell’s plans are incredibly stupid and has thought this for thousands of years.

That said, Crowley’s idea of “demonic behavior” is gluing a rare coin to the sidewalk and then watching from a nearby cafe. He likes to watch humans being humans. He likes to give choices and see what they decide. He also thinks anything that slightly ruins someone’s day is hilarious.

He’s as disturbed by the worst excesses of humanity than he is by Hell. No, scratch that, he’s more disturbed by humanity (see: Caligula, Spanish Inquisition, French Revolution, bunch of half-witted Nazis). I don’t know if he consciously thinks of it as “I gave them free will and look what they did with it” (since Eve *chose* to eat the apple, she arguably already had free will; he might see the apple as being largely symbolic, regardless of what weight it actually held) but at the very least he probably thinks “F**k humans were supposed to be BETTER than demons, but look at this.”

He’s more of a big-picture thinker than Aziraphale is. Someone else meta’d this better than I could, but in essence, Crowley is the one to recognize that the end of the world is BAD FOR EVERYONE whereas Aziraphale is the one to think of doing something nice for the person in front of him. Demonic “score keeping” aside, I think he rolls his eyes at a lot of the “Good Samaritan” crap Aziraphale pulls (particularly: Anathema) because he doesn’t see the point in helping one person have a slightly less-bad day.

He has been consciously aware of his feelings for Aziraphale longer than Aziraphale has been of his own (sorry that wasn’t an easy sentence). Whether you think he fell in love on the Wall of Eden, or go with the “they didn’t really start connecting until Rome” explanation, Crowley has always been the more emotionally aware one. There probably has been ups and downs and rough times, etc, and you have 6,000 years to explore this in; but by the time you get to the present, this is the Crowley who is fully aware of what he feels, has accepted it, and is now waiting for Aziraphale to come around.

Note that even in this extreme, apocalyptic situation the most he’s willing to throw his emotions at Aziraphale is “we can go off together” and “I don’t even like you/you doooooooo” (ok the scene in episode 5 goes a little further, but still). He didn’t grab Aziraphale’s shirt and try to force him to admit his feelings, and he never used his own feelings to try and emotionally blackmail Aziraphale into doing anything. He very much respects Aziraphale’s right to make a choice in this, even if Crowley thinks he’s being an idiot.

Related to both his emotional awareness with Aziraphale and his ability to “get” humans - Crowley is by far the more empathetic of the two, able to grasp what people around him are feeling. He does, however, have not-very-much compassion, so he mostly uses this information to mess with them. (I suppose you can argue that Aziraphale is high compassion, low empathy - he doesn’t always GET people, but he genuinely wants to help)

Crowley doesn’t care about labels. Male? Female? Heaven? Hell? Whatever, it’s all the same in the end. For the most part he just doesn’t CARE about fitting in or societal norms, but he’s probably at his most comfortable when he’s rebelling against them just a bit. So when he’s feeling a bit uncomfortable, it might help him to present more androgynously, or wear something inappropriate for his apparent age, or do something “shocking” just for the fun of it.

Ok, that’s what I’ve got. Anyone have anything to add?

#good omens #good omens prime #good omens fanfiction #crowley (good omens)#anthony j crowley #anthony janthony crowley #our favorite demon #ineffable husbands #Crowley and Aziraphale

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