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one-with-the-floor · 4 years

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Water Erosion

My fic for the 5th SOSH Guess the Author game: a 500 word 5+1! Also a fill for “palm kiss” for @bingokisses! [Read on AO3]

They stood at the water’s edge while the waves lapped against their feet. One pair sandaled, one bare. One of the creatures behind them was braying mournfully. Its mate stood close, trying to soothe him.

“I suppose that’s it, then?”

“Forty nights not enough for you, angel?”

Aziraphale was quiet.

“Island’s nice, at least. Could stay here a while.”

“No. I’ve been told to head east after all this.”

“Oh.”

Aziraphale stepped onto the water, and Crowley watched him walk away.

***

“I don’t suppose I could stay to see the full effect?” Aziraphale called up. Crowley was perched on some scaffolding, practicing. The Nile was due to flood, and soon the banks they stood on would be crowded with worshipers.

Crowley was going to be a centerpiece of the celebration. Sometimes the snake tail got him places. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said though. “False gods. Idols, all that.”

Aziraphale nodded. “I understand.”

***

“That was… interesting.”

“It was certainly more… literal, than I was expecting.”

The lake rippled, as if to say don’t push your luck. I’ve got more swords where that came from.

“That’s it for my job, then,” Crowley said. “Arthur’s ready, that’s my cue.”

“Oh. Well. I’ll see you another time, then.”

“Yeah, angel. And think about that Arrangement idea, will you?”

***

Aziraphale was standing near a canal when Crowley walked up.

“How long are you in town?”

“Not much longer. Blessing down in Rome.”

Crowley scoffed. “Are there not enough blessings going on down there?”

“Crowley, please.”

“Could leave it alone, is all I’m saying. It’ll get lost in the shuffle. It’s been years since I was in Venice, I could use someone to show me around.”

Aziraphale twisted a button on his doublet. “It’ll have to be someone else, I’m afraid. I have to go to Rome.”

“Oh.”

Aziraphale stepped towards the canal. “It was nice to see you,” he said, and stepped onto a boat. Crowley watched him leave.

***

“I don’t need you!”

“And the feeling is mutual! Obviously!”

***

They stood at the water’s edge with sandy bare feet. It was starting to get cold. They’d missed the peak season, only finding their cottage at the tail end of summer. With the sun already sunk, the September air was chilled. Crowley shivered. Aziraphale unlinked their hands to wrap an arm around his shoulders.

“Alright, darling?”

“Mhm.”

“We can go in if you’re cold.”

“Nah. I like being out here. And if I’m cold it gives you an excuse to hold me.”

Aziraphale laughed.

They watched the moon come up, and Crowley pointed out all the stars in the sky that weren’t quite where they were originally meant to be. Aziraphale’s arm stayed around him the whole time.

When Crowley quieted, and they’d been standing in comfortable silence for a time, Aziraphale spoke up. “I think I’m ready to go home, dearest mine. Are you alright with leaving?”

Crowley kissed Aziraphale’s palm. “Yeah,” he said. “As long as I’m leaving with you.”

#my fic #sosh gta #kissesbingo2020 #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley #good omens #good omens fic #5+1 things #I PULLED OFF A 5+1 IN 500 WORDS AND I'M PROUD OF IT

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empresskaze · 4 years

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Sleep, my angel (Good Omens, M, Illness)

Ok here's like 2200 words of self indulgence for a sick sniffling Az...

Not beta'd

~~~~

It wasn't more than a week after the Notpocalyse had well...not happened. For the past three days Crowley had been drunk. Staggeringly, fall down, yelling happily about saving the dolphins drunk. Aziraphale had joined in the first day. The two had ravished the remaining bottles of Chateauneuf-du-Papes. However, Aziraphale had sobered himself up during the night while Crowley slept awkwardly on his sofa in the back room. He had expected the demon to follow his lead but when he'd returned from running an errand to Crowley once again stone faced drunk, Aziraphale was a bit surprised.

Truly he didn't mind, they'd been through a lot, especially his friend who had gone through the emotions of thinking he'd lost the angel. Aziraphale couldn't blame the demon for indulging a bit. At least Crowley was mostly entertaining, well until he began singing "How do you solve a problem like Aziraphale" to the tune of Maria from The Sound of Music. That's when Aziraphale needed a break. Closing up the bookshop he decided to head to the bakery for some brioche. Sadly it wasn't authentic Parisian pastries but Aziraphale didn't want to pop across the channel and leave Crowley alone for too long. Goodness knows what that wily serpent would do to his bookshop.

[[MORE]]

That thought alone sent a chill down Aziraphale's spine as he looked over the bakeries selection. Heavens, everything looked scrumptious.

Happy with his purchase the angel had not noticed the grey clouds hovering over Soho. Not more than a minute out of the bakery the sky opened up soaking everyone who had not thought to bring an umbrella.

Normally rain didn't bother the angel, he could simply miracle himself dry so he only upped his walking pace so the bag of pastries wouldn't get too wet.

Returning to the safety of his bookshop, Aziraphale locked the door while ignoring the water dripping off him. It was then he realized something. It was quiet. Too quiet. When he'd left Crowley had been singing loudly. Now, a pin could drop and passerbys would hear it cling against the floor.

"Crowley?" Aziraphale called tucking the bag under his arm. No answer but he heard distinct rustling coming from the back of the shop.

Rounding a corner of shelf, Aziraphale found Crowley kneeling on the floor in front of another tightly packed shelf.

"Crowley?" Aziraphale said confused on what his friend was doing.

"Angel!" Crowley lept up turning to Aziraphale. "Y-y-you're back. Uh...hey, hi." He stammered quickly putting his hands behind his back. "Didn't hear you c-come back. Did you get more wine?" He asked with a nervous smile.

Well Crowley was sober, this was good news. "No, only some brioche. I got peckish, I...what are you doing?" Aziraphale's head cocked watching Crowley's gaze pivot to his backside.

"What? Me? Nothing." Crowley shrugged and casually leaned against the wall.

Aziraphale eyed him and set down the bag on a nearby table. Removing his coat, Aziraphale didn't notice the trail of raindrops he'd left since entering the bookshop. After hanging the coat, Aziraphale adjusted his waistcoat and slowly approached Crowley who was doing his damndest not to meet his gaze.

"Crowley. What is it?" Aziraphale sighed tiredly.

Crowley grunted before pulling his hand forward. "Sorry, angel." He held antique statue, one Aziraphale had acquired in Rome back in 41 A.D, well pieces of it. "Knocked it over on accident." He continued, "I was simply going to miracle right again but I..." A faint blush appeared over his cheeks. "I can't find the head."

Aziraphale clicked his tongue as he took the broken statue from Crowley. "There is no head, my dear." He said setting it down back in perfect condition on the shelf. "Do be careful next time." Aziraphale added before running his hands over his arms.

This got Crowley's attention. "You alright?" He finally got a good look at the angel. "Your hair is wet." Turning he spied Aziraphale's coat and the raindrops. "You went out in the rain?"

"No, well not really." Aziraphale went back to his bag of brioche. "I got caught in it on my way back. Forget to miracle myself dry, no need to anymore I suppose."

"Angel you're shivering." Crowley said with a touch of worry.

"I assure you I'm fine." Aziraphale handed one of the pastries to the demon. "I'll make tea if it'll put your mind at ease." He exhaled and rubbed his forehead.

"Maybe I should, you look tired." Crowley said stepping closer to the angel. "Have you slept lately?"

Aziraphale scoffed. "That's your department, dear." He said pulling out his other coat. It was a bit thicker and warmer so as soon as he wrapped it around himself, Aziraphale felt a bit of relief.

"I'm serious, angel." Crowley said following Aziraphale into the makeshift kitchen area as he put the kettle on. "I know sleep isn't normal for you but..." Crowley rested his hand on Aziraphale's shoulder turning so they faced each other. "You've been through a lot, pretending to be me, assaulted by those bastard angels, not to mention being discorporated, you should take a break."

Aziraphale averted his eyes from Crowley's snake ones. "I have been, we celebrated remember?"

Crowley half nodded, he remembered some of the past few days but he definitely knew Aziraphale had been sober longer than himself. "Just promise you'll rest, sleep if it comes but try okay." He placed a kiss on Aziraphale's forehead.

That was enough to trigger a full body shake from the angel. "Yes, dear."

"Good." Crowley took out a pair of sunglasses. "I'm going to head to my flat, plants need to be watered." He said heading toward the entrance with brioche in hand. "Promise me, angel."

"Yes, I promise." Aziraphale said forcing his body to stop shivering. It was simply from Crowley. He thought. After helping himself to the tasty pastry, Aziraphale decided to read for a bit before taking up Crowley's advice. He hadn't wanted to worry his friend but he was feeling just a tad run down. Babysitting a drunk demon hadn't helped either. Reading always calmed him down. Problem with reading, especially in Azriaphale's case is one chapter turns into two into ten and suddenly it's morning and the book is finished. Aziraphale didn't even notice until he heard people passing by his windows. Sighing, he sat back in his chair and massaged his head. Oddly he felt a bit of a headache starting to surface.

Crowley wouldn't be pleased. However, he had rested, kind of, in his own way. Maybe the demon wouldn't ask.

To his good fortune, Crowley didn't end up coming by the bookshop that day. Aziraphale had a sneaking suspicion he'd taken some of his own advice and went to sleep. Hopefully it wasn't one that would last decades.

Aziraphale got to work opening the bookshop, assisting customers if needed but around midday the chill he'd caught yesterday in the rain returned along with a fair amount of sniffling. Nothing to worry about though he thought, the bookshop air temperature would compensate. Sadly though as the day continued his chills only grew worse. Knowing he couldn't have his shop feeling like Hell itself, Aziraphale closed up for the day. As he switched the door lock he suddenly pulled back.

Eh'tsshew!

"Oh dear." He groaned, sniffling again. "Right well perhaps Crowley was correct. Maybe I do need a rest." Aziraphale said to himself.

Rubbing his neck as a tightness had developed the angel sat down on his sofa next to his desk. Laying back Aziraphale closed his eyes however after a minute he opened them again. "How exactly does Crowley do this?" He wondered. Aziraphale couldn't even remember the last time he'd slept. Exhaling he adjusted himself to he was laying length wise, this felt more comfortable. Sadly, his mind kept thinking of different things like how Adam was doing, what he was going to have for dinner but mostly his thoughts were of Crowley. He wasn't sure when it happened but eventually the Angel of the Eastern Gate fell asleep.

Aziraphale wasn't sure what day it was. After his impromptu nap he'd woke in a haze consisting of a pounding headache, chills and pressure surrounding his face. Tea had brought little relief, Aziraphale did not have the energy to attempt miracling himself better. Any health related miracles took a major toll on angels so they were reserved for specific uses. Not that he cared about what Heaven's protocol was anymore but from previous experience healing the extremely sick, Aziraphale figured his body wouldn't react well.

Now he sat in a chair, wrapped in a quilt, mug of tea in one hand and his tartan handkerchief clutched in the other. Sniffling, his poor nose felt clogged which no amount of blowing seemed to elevate. Inhaling sharply Aziraphale's eyes squeezed shut as he covered another exhaustive sneeze.

Eehhh'tssschjuh! Hiissshheww!

Aziraphale pinched his nose which only led to a hard stifle.

H'nkdt!

"Oh..." He groaned running the back of his hand across his nose. Now he felt tired, Aziraphale felt he could sleep for days or decades for that matter but everytime he relaxed even for a moment a harsh deep sneeze erupted from him. Paired with the constant sniffling and dry sensation forming in his throat, sleep wouldn't happen now unless by some miracle.

Pushing himself up slightly, he sipped his tea, at least that helped the soreness in his throat. But as soon as he set the cup down his handkerchief was clasped back over his nose.

Eh'heh'EHtshschjuhh!

That one hurt, pain shot through his sinuses amplifying the already pounding headache knocking at his temples. Aziraphale's nose was buried in his handkerchief when he heard the front doors unlocked.

"Oh no." He paled quickly shedding the blanket. Aziraphale managed to right himself, fixing his waistcoat and tie as he heard Crowley sauntering down the aisle.

"Angel?" The demon called.

"Y-yes?" Aziraphale turned his back pretending to be looking over some papers on his desk. He ran his handkerchief over his nose once more before palming it in his hand.

"Ah there you are! Ready?" Crowley asked as he stuck his hands in his pockets.

Aziraphale froze. Ready for what? His mind a foggy mess, Aziraphale struggled to remember what he was forgetting. He barely remembered when they'd talked about the last time he'd seen Crowley. Realizing he had not replied, he felt Crowley closer behind him.

"Right, yes...of course." His strained voice broke half way. He sniffled again before finally facing Crowley.

"Angel." Crowley's mouth dropped saying the term of endearment.

Aziraphale couldn't look at his friend and for once thanked the Almighty for those reflective lenses as he did not wish to see Crowley's eyes.

"It's nothing, I'm fine."

"You are not fine!" Crowley snapped back. "What happened? I thought you were going to rest."

"I did!" Aziraphale retorted. "I'm fine, really..." He sniffed again suddenly feeling another tickle forming. "Now, ready to...go..." Aziraphale did a quick prayer that Crowley would casually mention where they were going. Before the demon could answer, Aziraphale pivoted away dipping his head into his handkerchief.

Hhhiistshcew!! Iisshhjuh!

A few tears formed in the corners of his blue eyes from the shot of pain in his sinuses. He tried blowing his nose but that only triggered more pain and a cough bubbled out of him.

Sighing, he rested his hand against the desk, supporting himself as he felt he could falter at any moment. Then suddenly an arm around his waist. "Come on, angel."

Oh heavens, he'd forgotten Crowley was even here. "Really my dear, I'm fine."

"Obviously." The sarcasm in Crowley's tone wasn't lost on Aziraphale. The demon led his friend back to his chair, easing him down and gently wrapped the quilt around him. "Do you have a fever?" He asked quietly.

Aziraphale hated the look of worry on Crowley's face. "I don't believe so, just some chills." He coughed again. "I'm sorry I've forgotten what we were supposed to do today." Aziraphale managed a faint apologetic smile.

"That doesn't matter, only you do." Crowley said cupping his hand around Aziraphale's pale face. The warm hand on his cheek felt delightful, Aziraphale leaned into it. The relaxing atmosphere didn't last, Aziraphale gasped as his handkerchief came up again.

Ehhtsshheww! Hp'tsxjuh! Heh..."

Aziraphale blinked desperately trying desperately to hold back the oncoming sneeze as the ticklish sensation grew in his poor nose which was now lined red along the edges. Another inhale, Aziraphale sniffled hard keeping the sneeze at by. Letting out a sigh, he leaned his head back against the chair.

"You'd probably be more comfortable in my bed." Crowley said crouching down next to the angel.

Aziraphale shrugged and rubbed his nose. "Perhaps, but I don't believe I...have the energy t-t-to..."

Eehhtshsewww!

"Stand at this point." Aziraphale whispered. His tired eyes met Crowley, who had removed his sunglasses. Those golden snake eyes which Aziraphale loved seeing now only held worry, it ached the angels heart. "Maybe the couch." He said sitting up.

Crowley, immediately on his feet, helped Aziraphale up, keeping the blanket tucked around him. Even the short walk felt like an eternity. "Thank you, my dear." Aziraphale rasped as both he and Crowley sat down.

Crowley's hand on his shoulder slowly eased him down, his head nestled in the demons lap. Aziraphale pulled the quilt up a bit more around his shoulders.

"Warm?" Crowley asked slowly running his fingers through Aziraphale's white blonde curls. The sensation a much needed relief to his aching head.

"Yes. Thank you." Aziraphale's eyes fluttered closed. "Let's hope this time sleep helps not hinders." He quipped with a small cough.

Within minutes the angel was softly snoring on Crowley's lap. He smiled still stroking Aziraphale's head. "Sleep, my angel."

#kaze writes: good omens #sneeze fic #illness fic #drunk!Crowley #sweet soft sick angel #sneezing #kaze writes: fanfiction

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patchworkkat · 5 years

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Lost and Found

Aziraphale gently hung up the phone and worried his hands. He’d been trying all afternoon and still couldn’t get ahold of Crowley. Fear gnawed at his gut as images of Heaven or Hell finding his demon alone ran through his head. One particularly chilling image involving Michel had him grabbing his jacket and speeding out of his bookshop. He had to find Crowley.

Only, how did he find Crowley? He’d done it before of course back in... no wait Crowley found him before the flood. Well, there was... nope, he was in Rome first they just happened into the same shop. He’d found Crowley in Wessex of course but that had taken three months!

Aziraphale paused at a particularly busy intersection. As cars sped by he realized that, throughout their history, it was mostly Crowley finding him, not the other way around. About to get his head cut off? Poof, there’s Crowley. About to be shot by Nazis? Crowley skips into the church. If he was in danger Crowley simply appeared.

Danger, the word flashed in his mind. It was always danger that made Crowley appear. If he was right, this would solve everything. If he was wrong, well how bad could heaven be, he passed their trial. Aziraphale took a deep breath and stepped off the curb.

Across town, a tall, lanky man dropped the exceedingly expensive plant he’d just bought. Oddly enough no one looked in his direction as the pot shattered and soil poured out across the pavement. Nor did they look up when that same man sprouted black wings and shot into the sky.

Flying was not easy for Crowley. In fact, it wasn’t easy for any demon. Well, not the ascension bit at least. He was, however, very good at falling. Which is exactly what he did when he spotted an idiotic bookseller walking headlong into oncoming traffic. He fell with precision and speed.

As far as the London bus driver was concerned, he’d done his civic duty swerving out of the way of the massive raven that landed in the middle of the road. The driver of the supped up mustang he’d totaled, disagreed entirely. Both were too busy arguing to notice the men who emerged from a pile of feathers, one gripping the other’s arm in a death grip as he dragged him home.

Crowley was furious. Furious at Heaven who had obviously done something to upset Aziraphale, furious at Aziraphale for whatever he’d just tried to do, and doubly furious at the angel now beaming behind him like everything had gone according to plan.

“What the hell were you thinking? You’d have been discorporated and back under the knife without me to withstand the fires of hell for you!” he finally spat out.

“I was looking for you,” Aziraphale said. His smug smile only grew wider.

“And you’d thought you’d find me under a bus?”

“I thought I’d find you if I was in danger.” Aziraphale managed to wiggle free of his grip and took Crowley’s hand in his. “I was right.”

#good omens #patches writes #ineffable husbands

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theroseandthebeast · 5 years

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Good Omens Fic Recs, Part 3

[Part 1] [Part 2]

13 more fic recs, all shades of Ineffable Husbands

A Time to Scatter Stones (and a Time to Gather Them), by for_autumn_i_am

The soft sound of Aziraphale’s steps is like the susurration of snow. He’s making his way through the radiant flurry of too-white flakes dwindling down to St James’s Park. This is the kind of snow children dream about but only their grandparents remember; all that matters to Crowley is how its chill makes Aziraphale’s nose an intolerable shade of lovely, lovely pink.

(Restricted) Our Own Eden, by DictionaryWrites

Crowley and Aziraphale want to have sex but...

There's a slight hitch.

Let's Pretend I Don't Want This, by treesblooming

There's no use trying to stay away. So Crowley doesn't.

A Honored Guest, by strawberriesandtophats

Mr. Aziraphale had been a frequent visitor since the day they had opened their sushi restaurant. His neat suit hadn’t changed or his blonde hair. In fact, he hadn’t aged at all.

Love's Such An Old-Fashioned Word, by Lavellington

There has to be, Crowley thinks, a better word than love.

Thy Kingdom Come, by ShanaStoryteller

Crowley is just following orders.

nothing but the wild rain, by Raven (singlecrow)

"The internet, Aziraphale!" Crowley says. "This is what the internet is for. This is, quite literally, what the internet is for."

"Oh," Aziraphale says, and Crowley knows, he just knows, that Aziraphale is going to say something about how it's jolly useful for hard-to-find first editions and tickets for the Last Night of the Proms.

or, Aziraphale and Crowley find sex confusing.

Tip Back the Scales, by Palebluedot

“Do you think you could miracle the cellar door open for me? I don't like to use heavenly means for lock-picking, even if it is ultimately righteous.” He paused. “Or at least neutral.”

“I don't do miracles,” Crowley huffed, but he snapped his fingers anyway.

---

Or, be gay, do crimes: the Good Omens story.

tell me is it just a dream, by nikkiRA

Crowley had seen the rise and fall of Rome. He had seen the invention of the guillotine. He had seen the Beatles’ final performance. He had seen the first time a human being said the word ‘bodacious.’ But nothing he had ever seen was more surprising than Aziraphale standing in front of him and telling him that he hadn’t realized that Crowley had meant him when he had said, drunk and distraught, that he had lost his best friend.

the bucket list, by darcylindbergh

There was a certain look that Aziraphale wore occasionally—a pinched sort of moue that looked like he’d just taken a very large mouthful of cinnamon—which meant he thought Crowley was being ridiculous. He had put it on.

“Hang on,” he had said. “You want us to do human things?”

If you're going to go native, you might as well go all the way.

A Home at the Beginning of the World, by stereobone

"Oh," Aziraphale says. "I think Crowley might have moved in with me."

Consorting With the Enemy, by Penknife

They've averted the Apocalypse and come up with a plan that might just save them both from the wrath of their superiors, and now Crowley feels they're both badly in need of a drink.

Fly Me to the Moon, by Vera (Vera_DragonMuse)

In which they get to Alpha Centauri after all.

#ineffable husbands #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #crowleyaziraphale #aziraphalecrowley #fic rec

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ineffably-effable · 5 years

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Come up and see me (make me smile)

Rome, 41 AD

AN: Continues on from the role-reversal au started in Come up and see me (make me smile)

Thanks again to @mia-ugly for being a wonderful beta-reader (which this time involved convincing me not to throw this out and then jump into the trash after it).

(read on ao3)

Crowley had been in Rome a month without seeing hide nor hair of his affable adversary. Even though he knew (hoped) the demon could take care of himself (probably) he still found himself seeking out the sorts of establishments regularly patronized by said demon to inquire after him ("Curly hair, golden eyes - no not brown, I said golden, yes I get that's not very common- look mate, have you seen him or not?!"). In the end it was a message from Michael that tipped him off to the demon’s whereabouts (a marked increase in sin had been observed one of the city’s seedier neighbourhoods, and if it wasn't too much trouble would Crowley please do his job and restore a bit of moral order).

This was how he found himself standing in the Atrium of a large public bathhouse, feeling utterly ridiculous in one of the lighter (and tragically optional) bathing robes.

After a short hunt, made shorter by a strong sense of demonic activity from the eastern chambers, Crowley spotted Aziraphale in the tepidarium. Oblivious to Crowley's scrutiny, the demon was lounging contentedly in the pool, his neck tilted back against the wall. Around him, throughout the pool and the surrounding alcoves, humans were grinding and rutting against each other in all manner of passionate couplings (and throuplings, Crowley noticed, a little impressed by the flexibility on display).

Aziraphale appeared to be watching over the proceedings with a sort of benevolent self-satisfaction. Every so often a human would approach him, and he'd smile graciously and nudge them towards another partner. He also seemed to be keeping an eye on the chamber's doorway and (although he'd missed Crowley) any humans entering the chamber were quickly ensnared, reaching for each other as their confused eyes quickly became insensible with lust.

As Crowley made his way over to him (a process made difficult by the need to dodge suggestive leers and groping hands) he tried to figure out how exactly this managed to attract notice upstairs. Obviously the S.O.Fs were innumerable, but those had always been considered a fairly low-grade offence. (Adultery would be the next logical conclusion but, knowing Aziraphale, Crowley suspected anyone in a truly committed relationship would be struck by an urge to visit another chamber).

"Crowley!"

Aziraphale spotted him and waved him over excitedly, looking for all the world as though he was sitting in a crowded tavern and not in the midst of an orgy. He clicked his fingers and the couple closest to him moved away, leaving room for the angel to join him in the water. Crowley ignored the implicit invitation, instead sitting on the ledge, arranging his legs deliberately so that they rested outside the pool. Aziraphale watched this with - an almost fond - exasperation. "Fancy running into you here! How have you been?"

"I'd be a lot better if I wasn’t getting chastised in missives about your behaviour," he replied. "You foul fiend ,'' he added as an afterthought (fully aware the smile on his face diminished the severity of the words).

"Is that so? Don't tell me you've been sent to thwart my wiles ?" the demon asked with an exaggerated air of disappointment and a suggestive tone.

"Honestly Aziraphale, I leave you unsupervised for a few years and suddenly-” Crowley paused, flustered, as he was interrupted by an enthusiastic, protracted moan, “-uh, hedonism is running rampant."

"You flatter me dear. This barely counts as-" the demon's words were drowned out by a loud proclamation - “Sweet merciful Gods!” - as a man near them seemed to find his bliss. Crowley raised his eyebrows and Aziraphale grinned, utterly unperturbed. “- corruption, blasphemy notwithstanding.”

"Ahuh."

“I'm hardly harming anyone,” he pointed out matter-of-factly. "Quite the opposite in fact."

"You're messing about with their free will. That's cheating."

"Oh please, I’ve removed their inhibitions and heightened some sensations. If they didn't truly want to be here, they wouldn't be."

"Weren't you meant to be influencing what's-his-name, the emperor?"

"Caligula?" The demon pulled a face. "Don’t remind me. That loathsome man didn’t need any suggestions from my quarter. The second he got a taste of power it went straight to his head. I’ve already written it up as a resounding success.”

"So now you’re stirring up trouble for the sake of it?'

"Still have those demonic quotas to consider." He shrugged. "You have to admit lust is the most innocuous of the seven." Aziraphale’s eyes tracked to where two humans seemed to be enjoying themselves, almost innocent in their exploration of each other’s bodies. "I tried gluttony for a bit, but then they started retching so they could continue stuffing themselves." He wrinkled his nose in distaste and gave his head a little shake (as if to clear the thought). "At least one can enjoy oneself here."

Crowley nodded in understanding, then froze as his brain processed the slightly lecherous tone the demon had used to stress the word enjoy.

The demon beamed at him, amusement plain on his face.

“You haven’t- not with-" Crowley spluttered.

"They're only human, of course, so not much of an intellectual connection, but some are extremely talented.” He winked at Crowley. “You should find a nice young man and avail yourself, I'm certain you'd have no shortage of offers."

"Don't be ridiculous," Crowley responded hotly.

"Aren't you the slightest bit curious what it feels like? You might be an angel, my dear, but you're housed in a human corporation that's very susceptible to pleasures of the flesh." The low timbre of his voice was enticing in ways Crowley would rather not think about. He attempted what he hoped was a withering look, but the demon just laughed. "Baby steps perhaps?" He gestured to the spot next to him, "The water is lovely. Are you sure you won't join me?"

Crowley stared at him incredulously, and then - almost involuntarily - his gaze lowered. Even obscured beneath the surface of the water, it was apparent the demon had made an effort. A respectable one. For a moment Crowley allowed himself to imagine disrobing and sliding into the pool. He’d corner Aziraphale, pressing him against the wall with the length of his body, and then he'd taste his lips, his throat, the hollow of his neck. He’d slip a hand down to grip him, firmly. Aziraphale would grin encouragingly, or perhaps - despite all his bold talk - he would gasp and flush prettily.

"Crowley?”

Crowley looked up, he could feel his face burning. Aziraphale was grinning at him like he knew exactly what Crowley had been thinking, like-

Oh.

Of course he did.

The bastard.

"Was that you?" Crowley growled.

"Was what me?" The demon looked genuinely puzzled. Crowley didn’t buy it.

Crowley snapped his fingers and the temperature of the water dropped. People sprang to their feet yelping in shock. Judging from the blushing and awkwardness, inhibitions had also come flooding back with a vengeance.

"Satan below," the demon muttered, standing up and out of the now chilled water. Crowley averted his eyes until he materialized a robe. "That wasn't very nice, my dear. I think you've ruined a few promising trysts."

"All in a day’s work."

Aziraphale furrowed his brow.

"Hmph. Well, seeing as we've both accomplished our goals for the day, could I tempt you to a spot of lunch?"

"I'm an angel. I can't go around being tempted by demons," Crowley replied through gritted teeth, still nettled.

Aziraphale seemed genuinely confused and not a little hurt.

"Of course, I suppose it's in my nature to try." He gave a small, self-deprecating smile that made Crowley feel terrible. Then he took a step backwards and started fumbling with his robe which made Crowley feel even terrible-er.

He racked his brain for something to say.

“I did hear there’s a new restaurant..." he offered awkwardly.

Aziraphale brightened up instantly.

“Do you mean Petronius’? With the oysters?”

“Yeah, uh, that’s the one. If you were to eat there then I suppose I’d have to tag along and keep an eye on you. Make sure you don’t wreak havoc.”

“Naturally.”

Aziraphale looked right at him, indulgent smile and sparkling eyes out in full-force, and suddenly - suddenly the room felt too small - Crowley mumbled something about “beating the rush”, and led Azirphale in the direction of the restaurant.

A couple of hours, and three (maybe four?) jugs of wine later, Crowley was in that pleasant state of inebriation (the one where his brain could still string sentences together, but jumped ship entirely when it really ought to be reminding him why he shouldn't enjoy the company of his hereditary enemy). Judging from the way said "enemy" was gesticulating wildly as he talked, the demon might have been a cup or two beyond that point.

They had left the restaurant a little while back (Aziraphale having noticed Crowley's poorly concealed disgust at the uncooked molluscs, and cheerfully scoffing the angel's half-dozen in addition to his own) and were now winding their way through Rome's streets at a leisurely pace. Aziraphale was bragging that he knew the streets like the back of his hand and was recounting how he'd saved a playwright from execution. He was arguing it could be justified as evil because the playwright spread misery (i.e. turns out this Seneca fellow wrote tragedies) and because the man was a political dissident. Crowley made an offhand comment that rebellion-as-sin didn’t seem all that clearcut, earning him a blank stare from the demon, who abruptly changed subject to how Crowley "really must try Globuli" - insisting they hunt down a street vendor who made “the absolute best in the city”.

Eventually (after the street vendor was located, roused from his rest, and handsomely compensated) the consumption of fried syrupy cheese curd was achieved and the two of them continued on, chatting amiably until they reached a street Crowley recognized.

"I think this is me," he said, nudging his companion.

"Oh. I'm the other way," the demon replied, apparently without any intention of moving.

"Try not to get up to too much trouble," Crowley told him. "I've got other assignments in the city. Can't go dropping them to chase you out of bath houses every five minutes."

"I make no promises," Aziraphale replied, grinning.

Crowley bit back a smile. "Well, until next time, you lecher."

"Until then, my dear."

Crowley moved to shake hands when suddenly Aziraphale grabbed him by the shoulders and pressed his mouth against Crowley's lips. It only lasted a moment. In fact, the lingering warmth was the only hint Crowley hadn't hallucinated it.

Crowley must have looked as bewildered as he felt because the color drained from Aziraphale's face.

"I'm sorry! I forgot you haven't been in town very long! That was an osculum, " the demon babbled anxiously, "a show of friendship between equals, not to presume we're-" He looked up, but clearly Crowley's inscrutable expression didn't calm him. If anything it seemed to have the opposite effect. "Of course it's not like, well nothing like what you saw at the baths- those were basium and well, savium too, obviously - amongst, well, os impuri - amongst other types of kiss-like er." (The demon blushed, and Crowley felt a surge of affection for this stammering idiot - who seemed to think it possible to live four thousand years on Earth without learning the difference between a kiss and oral-sex) "- but yes, platonic kisses. All the rage of late. I think they might have been adapted from the Persian greetings. Absolutely fascinating, really, these humans and what they get up to-"

Crowley cut him off by pulling Aziraphale in and pressing their lips together firmly. As he pulled away he took in the demon's stunned face with smug satisfaction.

"Osculum eh? Did I do it right?"

Aziraphale blinked slowly, before (visibly) collecting himself.

"Definitely passable.” he said, voiced slightly strained, “Should you ever wish to practice I'd be more than happy to oblige."

Crowley rolled his eyes, which seemed to bolster the demon's confidence. "As an angel you really ought to try some of the others as well." He smirked.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Please , you love it.”

Crowley waited a beat too long before laughing a little too loudly. Aziraphale stared at him, a strange look on his face.

"Well, I should probably be-”

“Best be on my way-”

“No rest for the wicked."

“Virtue is ever vigilant-”

With a quick nod (which Crowley returned) the demon set off, walking half a block in the wrong direction. Crowley looked on, bemused, as Aziraphale stopped, realized what he'd done, and then looked back to see if Crowley had noticed. Ever the bastard, Crowley waved at him.

“Like the back of your hand?” Crowley asked as the demon passed him.

“Oh, sod off,” Aziraphale sniped back without stopping.

Crowley laughed.

"Try not to get lost!" he called out after him and was extremely satisfied to see Aziraphale make a rude gesture.

#good omens #good omens fic #ineffable husbands #role reversal au #demon!aziraphale #angel!crowley #my writing

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maddiemaynot · 5 years

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Episode 3.1: Hard Times (just the cold open)

I wrote so much I'm splitting this into two

I am not prepared for this first half an hour tbh

Aziraphale here just straight up lying to God.

Noah's ark and Crowley's hair is a sight to behold

He's so happy to see Aziraphale

Aziraphale can't even justify this and he's trying so hard. He totally is done with the whole Great Plan so early on, he just tries so hard to hold on

The unicorn bit is priceless

Jesus' crucifixion honestly makes me so sad, they portrayed it so well, with a lot of tenderness.

Crowley responsible for the last temptations of Christ and he genuinely thinks he did a kind thing, and to be honest, he DID.

"Be kind to one another." This SHOW

Crowley's mood is drastically different when we see him in Rome. He's had enough of the good and evil thing already and it's only 41AD

OYSTERS

The shrug Crowley does in the suit of armour is honestly my favourite thing, it's such a stupid gesture to make in a suit of armour and it's so FUNNY

"You have sought the black knight, foolish one" CAN I JUST POINT OUT THAT AZIRAPHALE'S HELMET IS ALREADY OPEN AT THIS POINT. Crowley can SEE it's Aziraphale. He's literally just messing around in a costume again I swear. And Aziraphale is like "is that you, Crawley?" And Crowley is annoyed cos a) Aziraphale got his name wrong and b) he's ruined the illusion. I bet internally he's going "come on dude we can have a bunch of fun messing about in suits of armour right now and you just RUINED IT and you got my name wrong ugh honestly."

"But that would be lying" you literally lied to GOD, Aziraphale. To GOD.

Which actually is probably why he is so against lying this time, cos he probably still feels a bit guilty for that

Crowley's beard thing in the Globe is ridiculous I love it

Aziraphale panicking about someone implying they're friends is honestly so funny, you need to CHILL my dude. Although I guess it's cos at this point they've started playing Spy and he's sticking with his character 😂

Crowley already knows that Aziraphale has to go to Edinburgh. He is keeping tabs on his angel and I love it.

Aziraphale is so worried about whether hell will destroy Crowley, he doesn't even mention what heaven might do to him 😭

Crowley makes Hamlet famous cos Aziraphale pouts and that is such a running theme in this show 😂

Okay I have some STUFF to say about Aziraphale's bad French: my initial thoughts were that he had just not bothered to learn French.

Because he has perfect Japanese in the sushi restaurant and we can infer his German is good or near-good from when he inhabits Madame Tracy's body (like, he asks if they speak German. He probably speaks relatively decent German to be happy to converse with the people he's just met in it).

But his French. Is appalling. Like he never bothered to learn. And I just love the thought of Aziraphale going "yup I'll learn Japanese, yup I'll learn German. French? Nah why bother."

Then I realised something else: Aziraphale is very fond of his food and I'm suddenly wondering if he's only conversational in these languages in a restaurant setting.

So maybe his French is perfect... in the crepe place where he eats. Maybe his Japanese is abominable outside of the sushi restaurant.

Like either he just didn't bother with French or he's learnt a multitude of languages to the point where he's fluent only when he's in his favourite little restaurants.

And then I ran into a post on here that said something along the lines of "perhaps his Japanese is so good because he had such a scare in France that he took the time to then learn the languages of his favourite foods in case he wanted something to eat during a revolution again" (i.e. he's conversational in every language that relates to his favourite foodstuffs now because he got such a scare)

And I honestly don't know what theory I prefer out of the three.

Okay I'm over the language thing now I'll never be over the language thing

AZIRAPHALE'S FACE WHEN HE HEARS CROWLEY'S VOICE HE IS SO FREAKING HAPPY

Crowley taking the manacles off because Aziraphale pouts.

I want to know more about what "frivolous miracles" Aziraphale has been performing

You say you're here to see what the Reign of Terror is all about but we all know you're keeping tabs on Aziraphale and swooping in to save him Crowley, don't even lie.

PLAYING SPIES BY THE DUCK POND AGAIN

"Sauntered vaguely downward"

DUCKS have ears. Do ducks have ears? Must do. That's how they hear other ducks.

Aziraphale is so worried that Crowley might hurt himself with the holy water and that is so sad

"Fraternising" sure that's what you've been doing stop with your LIES Aziraphale

Now they're in this argument clearly and Aziraphale loves playing Spy so much he tries on his own. And it goes wrong. And Crowley has to swoop in and save him. I love this scene 😭

Crowley is so not okay with the idea of Nazis

Also I wanna know why and how Crowley is famous in 1941

Anthony Janthony Crowley

"That was very kind of you" CROWLEYS FACE SAYS IT ALL. He knows what he did. He knows he was being kind. He knows he's been keeping tabs on his angel and rescuing him whenever he's in trouble. He KNOWS.

Crowley saves the books and Aziraphale admits his feelings about Crowley to himself 😭 (and my heart breaks)

Is it wrong to find young Shadwell attractive?

Aziraphale miracles himself into Crowley's car. He has that ability. If he miracled himself to wherever heaven is sending him to do things, that would probably be okay with heaven. So every moment that he's driving around with Crowley, that is 100% just an excuse to hang out with Crowley. 100%. He just wants to spend time with him. You PINING MOTHERFUCKERS

I'm analysing that bit a lot so I don't have to push play and have my heart broken with "You go too fast for me Crowley" once again

My poor tattered soul can't take it

Tartan flask 💙

IM SORRY BUT AZIRAPHALE STRAIGHT UP ASKS CROWLEY ON A DATE THERE

"We could go for a picnic. Dine at the Ritz." That's not just "I owe you lunch for rescuing me from the Bastille", that's straight up "no lift right now cos I've just bared my soul by getting you holy water, so let's leave it for now but another day we can totally go out and do something cute together like a picnic" (I'm sorry but picnics are romantic af. Unless it's a massive group of us, I've never been on a picnic with just one person because at least for me and people I know, that is a DATE.) (Side note, my dog totally ruined someone's romantic picnic the other day and it was really quite the funniest thing I've ever seen, two people being chased off their food by a labradoodle. Obvs I caught her in and scolded her but. It was really funny. I'm putting off That Line again, aren't I.)

Okay. He said it and I'm crying. Are you all happy?

#mine #goodomens #good omens #Crowley #aziraphale #i will go down with this ship #ramblings of a lunatic this time

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a-musing-mixologist · 4 years

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@amrefevr asked:

( CHRISTMAS PRESENTS ! meme 1 / ? ) there’s several presents with crowley name under their tree ; one contains an aged booklet of an assortment of pressed autumn leaves. for the angel knows winter is not a favoured season for the demon , thus he hoped to capture a piece of time for crowley in the preserved leaves. each artfully dried & then set within the pages , some were a touch crumbled as he was new handed at this , but all in tact , forever frozen in their autumn hues.

( CHRISTMAS PRESENTS ! meme 2 / ? ) another present was a hand knitted scarf of red & black with a matching hat & fingerless gloves. whilst it holds a resemblance to tartan , but the pattern was modelled after a more modern design & the colours melded together with an ease that had the knitwear appearing winter runway ready. or so aziraphale thought. the material is thick & soft , made to be warm as can be.

( CHRISTMAS PRESENTS ! meme 3 / ? ) the next has two pairs of hand crocheted socks. one of grey & white , whilst the other is green & red. no cross pattern to emulate tartan whatsoever lays with these pairs. they are festive socks ! the first less so obvious in its grey base with white snowflakes , but the next is balant in its red base with a vibrant green tree as the top pattern.

( CHRISTMAS PRESENTS ! meme 4 / ? ) then there’s a necklace. it’s chain is that of gold , although there is a silver one as well in the box. the pendant is that of the constellation serpens. it’s glorious appearance compares nothing to what crowley has seen in being there , aziraphale is sure , but this small recreation now set in resin was the best he could do. & one half is nothing without its other , thus there is another necklace of the same chain but this pendant is of ophiuchi.

(CHRISTMAS PRESENT meme5/?)next one is the smallest of the lot,but inside there lays a single key. archaic looking&a touch grimy,it’s twin that aziraphale still had was much more worn&warped from use. it was the key to the upstairs bookcase,the enclosed glass one that was in the upstairs flat that held signed first editions of special meaning.everything within the case ranked a high material possession for the angel,kept under lock&key.except now that is, for what is his is now crowley’s

They'd always gotten presents for each other. Started sometime after that oyster thing in Rome. Little things, casually given when love fancy struck. Christmas had always been yet another excuse to do so, even more lavishly, after all it was hardly out of place to exchange gifts on that particular morning. But they'd never celebrated like this. With a proper tree and decorations... and... together. Without fear of what Heaven or Hell would say.

The first gift, reverently opened, was met with wide eyes. The leaves were beautiful – Maple, oak, poplar, and a myriad others, preserved in their flame-hued glory. Long fingers brushed over the delicate foliage, tracing the curved edges of each in turn. It was Aziraphale's handiwork, he realized. There was a warm and familiar sensation that lingered over them, a gentle energy that buzzed softly beneath the pads of his fingers.

“These... they're beautiful, angel.” Some were beginning to crack (as was his voice), but if Crowley had anything to do with it, they'd hold themselves together. Don’t you dare crumble, you’ll regret it. Hold yourself together. It was directed as much at himself as the leaves. Crowley sighed. As much as he wanted to linger on each and every page of preserved foliage, there were even more packages piled beneath the sharp-scented boughs. He set the book carefully down by his side, selecting another pair of cheerily-wrapped gifts.

The next two packages were of a more expected nature. Sure enough, there was the winter wear. The thick weave spread the same faint, sunlit warmth through his fingertips. Aziraphale had made these, too. Crowley swallowed down the mantra trying to worm its way into his thoughts, you don't deserve this, you don't deserve him, he's too good for you... his heart swelling in his chest even as they words formed. The material felt supple, though not scratchy, providing enough insulation to help trap what little warmth his lean body created on its own. They were such simple little things, and yet... He'd prefer them to any riches.

“You... You made these? For me?” The first set was trying very hard to not be tartan, and he couldn't help but grin. It was his colors, at least. Even if it had been the blessed pattern, there was no way he'd ever be able to say no to it. Despite being inside, protected from the December chill outside, Crowley promptly wrapped the scarf around his neck, nuzzling the fuzzy material, breathing in its scent. He’d wear it until it disintegrated. Boots and black dress socks were promptly discarded, replaced with the cheery red and green of the new pair, made just for him. “I knew you had many talentsss.” He couldn't hide the hiss, or the quaver in his voice. You don't need to. Not now. Not ever.

His inner voice could never seem to make up its mind.

There were more presents still. He decided to pretend his fingers weren't shaking as he picked up the next, smaller, box. He wore jewelry, if there was a piece that caught his eye. It was often serpentine in nature, of course, but celestial themes were a very close second. And these.... He held the pair up, the metal catching the light to reflect it back, as if for a moment they were the real thing, sparkling somewhere out in the winter sky above London. His constellations...

He swallowed thickly, holding them to his thin chest. It was about the only thing he could so, since his voice had left him. They're perfect, you're perfect. I want to show you them, someday. The real thing. He could feel the pinprick of tears at the edge of his eyes, and his glasses were nowhere to be found. Curse them. He blinked. You don't need them. Not here, not with him. You’ve never needed them here and you know it.

Crowley pressed himself closer to Aziraphale, silently turning to nuzzle his neck. He smelled like sunshine and books, wine and chocolate. Like safety, like home. His heart, pounding against his ribs like a trapped beast, began to calm. The tears still threatened to fall, but he refused to let them. Demons didn't cry.

“Thank you, angel,” he breathed, once he was able to summon his voice back. “They're amazing. Incredible.” He hissed a sigh against the blond's pale skin. “It'sss more than I could have ever asked for. You are... wonderful, my angel.” He was more than wonderful. There weren’t words enough for it. Did he know that? Did he realize? Did Aziraphale know, gifts or not, that he was everything? There was one more gift, a tiny thing that radiated importance. Crowley reached for it, settling back against Aziraphale as he opened it slowly.

Ironically, it was a key.

Aziraphale would find one of his own, in another small box tucked beneath the tree's boughs. Crowley held the cool, aged metal in the palm of his hand, staring. It was too small to be the door key. No, this one was to something even more personal. He knew the case upstairs, had gotten a small lecture on its importance to Aziraphale.

“Y-you really want me to have this?” His gaze shifted from the item in his palm to Aziraphale's face, bathed in a halo of holiday lights. He knew how much that case meant to the angel. And... The metaphor wasn’t lost on him. This gesture, more than any other, was plain as day.

You’re holding the key to my heart in your hands.

Perhaps the most treasured physical item the angel had ever possessed, and he was offering it freely to a demon. Crowley shook his head, the dampness at the edge of his serpent's eyes spilling over. Betrayed by his own bloody corporation. He collapsed against Aziraphale's side, long fingers curling over the precious key, free arm sliding around the angel's torso to pull him close.

“I'll keep it sssafe,” he whispered. “Guard it... you.. with my... everything. 'Sss'a promise.”

#amrefevr #ARE YOU HAPPY NOW???#V: Main #V: Turning a New Page With You #Happy Christmas I'm ded now #christmas 2k19

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lady-wallace · 5 years

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Post the First Line of your Last 10 Published Fics and tag 10 People

Otherwise known as “I am procrastinating so I’m going to do this” XD

I got tagged by @29-pieces for this. I don’t usually tag people, but if anyone wants to do this, go ahead!

(Some of these are the first paragraph because they’re short)

#1 Sweet Dreams (This was a one shot I did featuring Sam and Rowena friendship because that’s totally grown on me over the last couple seasons ^_^)

"Hey, Sam."

Sam jolted in bed, looking up into the face of his deepest, darkest, personal torment. "Nick?" he asked cautiously. "You're dead."

#2 Hero (This one was a Jack centric one-shot I did where Jack hunts solo and saves some kids)

Jack clutched the bags tight against his chest as he sat on the bench at the bus stop, waiting for the next bus to come so he could take it to the last stop at the edge of town.

#3 Books, Cocoa, and Bloody Feathers (This is from my first Good Omens one shot!)

It was a gloomy day in London, the kind that was perfect for hot drinks and sitting down with a good book, which is exactly what Aziraphale was doing. It was quiet in the bookstore, no one else seemed to want to venture out even for a good book to read, and really, the thought of one of his precious books getting soggy on the way back to someone's flat made Aziraphale shudder.

#4 The Best of All Possible Worlds (This was so much fun to write; a Cas and Crowley adventure where they get caught by a supernatural trafficking ring and sold to be faery slaves. Needless to say, not the best day)

The vehicle they were riding in hit a bump, throwing Castiel to one side, sending him practically into the lap of the demon next to him, both of them unable to catch themselves because of the chains locked tight around their wrists and ankles.

"I hate you," Castiel seethed.

#5 Break (A one shot with major Cas whump but lots of comfort from the Winchesters as well)

Castiel looked up at the towering evergreen trees surrounding them. The air was cool and damp and held the fresh scent of pine and balsam. It would be incredibly peaceful and he would have loved to spend hours out here, wandering through the trees, if it wasn't for the fact that they were currently hunting a wendigo.

#6 Thin Ice (Another Cas whump one-shot with angst because I get a lot of requests for cold/frozen Cas! XD)

Castiel stood by the Impala, hands in the pockets on his trench coat, the biting winter wind nipping at his face. Normally he wouldn't notice the chill, but he'd been experiencing a lot more…human traits the last few months, the cold only one of them. His fall was inevitable, and really, seemed fitting. After all, what was he really good for anymore? He couldn't even find his absent Father. Probably because God didn't want to be found and Castiel had been living a delusion that hadn't proven useful to anyone.

#7 Breakdown (A super angsty one-shot tag to S14 dealing with Sam’s mental state and looming breakdown)

He supposed that somewhere in the back of his mind he had known it was coming. He'd known that the lack of sleep, the disinterest in eating, the constant wearing himself down by going on one hunt after another was going to catch up to him. He just hadn't expected to fail in the middle of a chase and put the rest of his family in danger.

#8 Fracture (A one-shot AU of “On the Head of a Pin” I wrote because I thought we needed some more Cas whump in that episode XD And I love writing Alastair because he’s so dang creepy)

Dean felt ice in his veins. All the turmoil in him about this situation vanished in an instant with Alastair's words—now the only thing echoing in his head: you broke the first seal, you broke the first seal. You started this. You started all of this.

#9 Thicker Than Water (A Season 8 AU where Dean gets captured hunting vamps solo so Sam, sick from the trials, has to team up with Cas to go find them. And there’s lots of whump and no one is in good condition :P)

Sam stared at the blank screen of his phone, anxiously chewing a thumbnail.

It had been two days since Dean had called him.

#10 For Those About to Die (A “Hammer of the Gods” AU where Gabriel tries to make another pocket dimension to escape Lucifer but Luci hijacks it and they end up in Ancient Rome and there’s lots of gladiator fighting.)

Dean ushered the prisoners out of the hotel, though they needed little coaxing, running for their vehicles and getting the hell out of this hellhole. Dean was sure they didn't truly understand what had been going on there, but they knew that they were glad to be getting away from it, and he wasn't going to trust Team Pagan in there not to go back on their word at any second and run after their appetizers.

Hope you guys all enjoyed this! Thanks for the tag 29 :)

#tags #writing #my fics #ten first lines #supernatural #good omens

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