#he loves Aziraphale enough to call him out on his bullshit

[nightgoodomens]

Michael Sheen retweeted this and my love for him grows every time he calls his Angel out on his bullshit and sides with poor Crowley

[lenaellsi]

after my latest rewatch I am even more convinced that crowley really doesn't have the intense self-loathing issues he's commonly depicted with. like he has some regrets and bad memories and insecurities like everyone does, and he's under an insane amount of stress basically always, but he's very confident in who he is. he's not particularly happy about being a demon, but that isn't the same thing as hating himself for it. he hates hell, not himself.

like. he’s not upset about being called one of “the bad guys” because he agrees, he’s upset because he knows aziraphale is wrong, and because this is evidence that aziraphale still believes in a philosophy that has divided them since even before his fall. he has never once considered himself less than aziraphale or any other angel. I think it's clear that he's pretty offended by that implication, actually!

“crawly” as a name is too squirming-at-your-feet-ish for him because he knows who he is, and he sees value in that person. his depression and his worrying relationship with his own life and safety come from his feelings on god and predestination, not from self-loathing. crowley does not believe in the system. he doesn’t believe in the idea that people are purely good or evil, and he’s sure enough of himself to know that he's not either. that's why he's able to make the choices he does. he's able to act in the gray spaces between heaven and hell (see: job, the flood, the "virtues of poverty," armageddon, etc etc) because he is confident enough to make those decisions without worrying about what the powers that be say about what's "right" and "wrong."

that doesn’t mean that he’s not self-conscious. he’s very concerned with what humans think of him, what aziraphale thinks of him, and (out of self-preservation) what hell thinks of him. he hides his eyes and puts on a cool, flashy persona to hide the more vulnerable parts of himself. I think everyone does that, to a degree, but it's especially obvious in crowley because of how it manifests in his glasses. he's been burned (literally) before, and he knows better than to show weakness when he could be hurt like that again.

and re: the "I never meant to fall" thing--he's upset about being a demon, yeah, because the fall sounds like it sucked, and his job tortures him when he's Good or just Bad in the wrong way, and he's deeply lonely, and the love of his life has a complex about their relationship, and he's trapped in a system where he has to blindly follow one of two nearly-identical sets of bullshit morality rules or be executed. but again, he's mad at god, heaven, and hell for all of that. I'm sure he's angry at himself for all sorts of reasons often enough, because crowley is generally a pretty angry person, but he doesn't hate himself in any sort of existential "I am an unlovable monster" way.

maybe sometimes he regrets falling. maybe sometimes he thinks it would be easier if he never did. maybe sometimes he hates his fucking line manager and wishes he could do any other job for a while. but no part of crowley thinks that he is any worse of a person after the fall, or any less worthy of aziraphale's company. he just thinks aziraphale thinks that, because of the amount of times aziraphale has told him so.

[onceuponapuffin]

Metatron Meta

Okay, so first of all let’s get a few things straight: I do not like the Metatron. I hate his big dumb floaty face, and these thoughts of mine in no way, shape, or form are meant to imply otherwise. He is perfectly responsible for his own actions and behaviours and is deserving of all resulting consequences. This is not a defense, excuse, or justification for any of his bullshit.

Got it? Are we clear? Yes? Yes.

So from here on out, will you promise to take a few minutes to hear me out, and then a few more to sit and actually think about what I’m saying? Okay, good, I trust you.

Here’s what happened: One night I was indulging in a stress-relief, fan-fiction-type, self-insert fantasy where I get to tell the Metatron exactly what I think of him straight to his dumb face, and as I’m imagining this conversation, a lightbulb goes off. He feels threatened by Aziraphale and Crowley.

Feeling threatened is a defensive reaction; he’s afraid. And so the question became the following: What could the Metatron, the most powerful angel in Heaven, be afraid of?

Come, walk with me.

The only being I can possibly imagine that the Metatron would actually be afraid of is God, but more specifically, afraid of upsetting or disappointing Her.

People have generally come to the consensus that God hasn’t been around for a while. Anytime anyone wants to talk to God, they talk to the Metatron. Anytime they’re given instructions, it comes from the Metatron. The lack of God’s narration in Season 2 seems to support this conclusion.

As far as I’ve seen, people have been happy enough to leave it here: God’s not actually calling the shots anymore, oh that evil Metatron grabbing at power, Metatron is playing God and doing terrible things.

I haven’t seen anyone – not one person (and if there is someone else who’s asked, please forgive me – it’s entirely because I haven’t come across your work) – say “If God hasn’t been around for a while, what does that mean for Metatron?”

Think about it – his whole existence, his whole purpose, is to talk to God and relay Her instructions to the rest of the angels. If his purpose and reason for existence has disappeared...I mean how would you feel?

Let’s not forget that Metatron is an angel. He was created to be a being of literal love and joy and light. He loves God and loves his job as Her voice – and she disappeared a while ago and hasn’t come back.

Let me say that one more time to make sure it gets through – THE CENTRE OF HIS EXISTENCE LEFT AND HASN’T COME BACK.

Are you with me? Good, because we’re going deeper.

Okay so let’s suppose that the last time Metatron heard anything from God direct was, say, Job. Sometime after Job, God disappears. Metatron, worried (and smarter than the other angels) goes back through the files, and notices a few things: the children are the same, the plan was disrupted. Also Crowley and Aziraphale are there.

(Right now, our beloved husbands are just a footnote, but keep this in the back of your mind for later.)

 For now, Metatron realizes that God’s plan for the bet wasn’t carried out properly. Right now, Metatron – a being of purity and love and light, whose Most Precious Thing is his connection to God – thinks he has messed up.

Maybe he expects to Fall. Maybe he lives in terrible, shaking fear that God will be angry with him for a bit. Maybe what he doesn’t expect is the Silent Treatment. And maybe what he doesn’t expect, then, is for it to last. He doesn’t expect the radio silence. He’s been ghosted by the being he loves most.

Alright, he figures, he hasn’t Fallen so the Almighty can’t be THAT angry with him. All he needs to do is go back do doing things RIGHT. He just needs to do the best job he can and God will forgive him and come back and talk to him again. He just needs to do a Good Job. He just needs to Do Everything Right. He needs to follow The Plan, as he knows it, and if he does it well enough, She will come back to him. His existence, his purpose, depends on it. And so, nothing can get in the way.

He can NOT let ANYTHING get in the way of The Plan.

So he keeps up appearances. He can’t let anyone know that God isn’t around. Who knows what kind of chaos that might occur? (And chaos is certainly not what God wants.)

He sees Crowley and Aziraphale avert the First Apocalypse (and this is where something perks up in his memory), but no matter because The Plan includes a clause for The Second Coming. Then their miracle together gets his attention.

Oh no, he thinks, this is what messed up my life the first time. Not again, I’m so close. I’m so close to getting Her to love me again.

And so he separates them.

You see, the thing about abuse is that it’s a cycle. The abuse that Metatron is imposing on Aziraphale and Crowley comes from somewhere I think. Everything in Heaven was created to be for the sake of Love. Maybe She left hoping that it would encourage the angels to love the universe as She does – take away the distraction, so to speak. Maybe God realized that Love isn’t enough and Nope’d  out, but whatever happened, when She left it royally fucked up everything.

Metatron has been desperately trying to Do A Good Job so that God will give him a CRUMB of affection, and that attitude has trickled down until all of Heaven runs on it.

If you haven’t ever lived like that, you might not realize the way it warps you. The way that getting that affection becomes all-encompassing; the way you keep collecting crumbs, thinking you can make a whole cake.

I don’t have sympathy for the Metatron. Regardless of what has happened in our lives, we are in full control of what we do and how we do it. He has let his love for God warp him into something that he wasn’t supposed to be. He’s become driven by obsession, while convincing himself it’s love. The way I see it, he’s come to a point of selfishness. His desire has warped him into the antithesis of what God made him to be, and I hope that comes back around to bite him.

[dopaminetreasurehoard]

I stan Aziraphale having a praise kink. If there is anyone who needs and wants their goodness validated, it's him. He's clearly bothered by the idea of not being a good enough angel, whereas Crowley has rejected any interest in having validation from the supposed side of "good".

This is why I have a hard time understanding why Crowley would have a praise kink.

(Full disclosure, I see a lot of myself in Crowley so I fully recognize my own bias in this situation. I'm not trying to say anyone is "wrong" in how they interpret him, just provide another point of view on his personality. I fully recognize that kinks aren't necessarily logical or predictable and so any headcannon you all have is valid.)

If you've been labelled "bad" by people who you've realized are toxic, you eventually lose the desire to be considered "good", to fit their mold, because you realize that "good" often means "obedient", "compliant", "silent".

Crowley was a questioner, and remains a questioner. He doesn't feel shame for asking questions, only a sense of being ill-used by God/heaven for such a small infraction, which I would argue he doesn't see as being a real fault to begin with. He has a strong sense of justice.

In an environment where people are shamed or punished for behavior that is self-protective, expressive, assertive, that voices individuality, people tend to go one of two ways (in my experience - please note I'm not an expert, I only know what I have witnessed in others and known in my own life, which includes many years of deep therapy work).

1. They accept their badness as truth and spend their energy trying to live up to the expectations of their labelers. (IMO, this is Aziraphale)

Or

2. They realize that their labelers are judging them based on their own flawed views. They embrace their qualities labelled as "bad" and recognize that these traits have their own virtues. The idea of being "good" is tarnished as undesirable because it would require them to relinquish the traits that helped them see their situation clearly in the first place. It means not being allowed to be themselves (IMO, this is Crowley.)

For example Crowley stood up for his work, questioned it's destruction, asserted and expressed his feelings about it. Speaking up for himself got him kicked out, but as he sees it, he was freed from having to deal with an environment that thrived on bullshit. His questioning revealed that for him. In this way, it actually helped him, and if that makes him "bad", why not embrace his own "badness"?

I'm not saying he wasn't hurt by his rejection. He most likely was. But it was clearly followed by strong self-acceptance. He isn't buying into this bullshit system and he has defined himself for himself. He doesn't seek validation from either side. He knows how to be true to himself with the kind of stubborn independence that can only come from feeling betrayed by those who were supposed to help you, care about you, be on your side.

So, what good would praise for "being so good" do for him? I mean, look at how he reacted to being called nice.

I'm sure there's the idea that he wants to be recognized as not being truly "bad", but if good means being all the things heaven wants him to be, I can't see that being appealing to Crowley.

Things like "goodness" and even "love" can all become negative in our eyes if they've been presented as untrustworthy or disingenuous concepts.

[majoringinsarcasm]

I think something very important that I have not thought about until right now is that Crowley knows the bullshit because he’s been a part of it.

In Hell before his “retirement” he was a chaos bringer, a mischief maker. Yes they had the Arrangement, but they did not collaborate on every single project. They were not put in the same place 100% of the time. He has to drive through a wall of fire because his own plan to make the M25 impossible to leave bit him in the ass. Not only was he Doing The Job of a demon, even if he tried hard not to be too Evil about it, he did well enough to earn the honor of delivering the Antichrist to his destination. Crowley might not have been a Duke of hell or besties with Satan (in the show I have not read the book I really think I should bc I love having all the lore) but he was the demon stationed in London causing trouble and had been possibly the main demon on earth for a long time.

Aziraphale on the other hand?

His bookshop is seen as, at best, a meeting hub for angels and at worst a joke. Gabriel questions him about eating which isn’t bad on its own but it’s very “Aziraphale the weird angel is eating food”. Nobody takes him seriously, he’s dismissed and ignored, they think his ideas are stupid. They Punch Him In The Stomach and he’s called useless or something to that effect when he accidentally goes to Heaven and loses his corporation. They hate him. To the point of finding joy in his death.

And here comes the mouth of God telling him that HE is the perfect Angel to take over for Gabriel. The supreme archangel of all Heaven. The one who went out of his way time and again to belittle him. Aziraphale? Replace him? And he can bring Crowley along? They can be safe from Hell and make Good changes and stay together? People will actually listen to him and take him seriously? He can leave behind his bookshop if it means taking Crowley and fixing Heaven. He can leave earth if he gets to have those things.

Because he’s never been Important before. He’s never had anyone from his own side give him a fucking complement in 6000 years. God asked him about the flaming sword Once and then Never Spoke To Him Again. Crowley seems to be the only one giving him compliments that he takes to heart. Maggie calls him an angel for being nice but he knew he did the no rent thing for selfish reasons. Crowley tells him he did a good job investigating and he’s all smiles and happy wiggles. He has never had anyone from his side be fucking nice to him and now the literal Headhancho is promoting him.

And for Crowley it’s easy to turn down. He knows Heaven is shit and he knows Hell doesn’t give a damn bc he’s experienced it before. Hell doesn't care how the job gets done and Heaven can’t see outside of its own ass and doesn't care about the Right thing. They don’t care about humans as people. They are set dressing to their own war not a creation of God that they should observe and care about. They want souls, they want to Win this little game that they SAY God wants them to play. And maybe She does, but maybe She’s Wrong. But regardless they don’t care about anything Real. But Aziraphale does. Crowley does.

And in an isolated incident yeah it might be out of character for Aziraphale to seemingly regress. But that’s not what happens. He’s not interested in joining Heaven as part of the cog again. He doesn’t want to be the universal punching bag anymore. He likes his independence and his records and his freedom. He doesn’t want to be just the weird little Angel everyone hates. But the Metatron is offering him a sort of protection. He’s being appointed by someone high up, given a role that is seemingly untouchable. They can’t hit the supreme archangel. They can’t mock his choice of company if he’s in charge. And it’s all fake it’s all lies he’ll no doubt be just a figurehead with a fancy title. But right now it’s all real to him.

So he says yes. Not because he’s fallen back onto his old ways, not really, but because he really thinks this is Better. Being involved to fix the community vs running away from it and risk being hunted down Again. They found him because he’s at the bookshop but they’re angels. If they want to find him or Crowley they will. This is everything he’s ever hoped for with the added bonus of not being on opposite sides anymore. Because they still are to everyone else. An Angel and demon are still an Angel and a demon to the outside world. Angels can find Aziraphale and demons can find Crowley and the other side can threaten the other and.

If they’re both in Heaven they won’t need to do that. So he says yes, because he wants to. But also… how do you say No to an offer like that? Someone else already said it but it’s Coffee or Death. Become the new archangel or say No to the closest thing to God after already being threatened time and again. Nobody would pick death.

People are Predictable.

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

Custody Battle - Plans and Agreements

The ritual of Propagation has succeeded. Aziraphale and Crowley prepare to welcome the newborn soul entrusted to them into their home. But Gabriel has other ideas.

In this week's chapter, Aziraphale and Crowley struggle to come up with a plan, but Gabriel's is already in motion...

(Please mind the tags on this fic!)

Read on AO3!

--

“Angel?” Crowley called softly from the hallway. “How are you feeling? Anything you need?”

“It’s…” He reached again for the nearest book. “Fine. Perfectly fine! Just a—a few more minutes and…” Scanning the page, and Aziraphale felt his heart sink. Not one word of it looked familiar. Had he even been reading at all?

“How about a bite to eat? I can bring you a sandwich, or…”

“Oh, I…” His stomach twisted painfully. Not quite nausea, he supposed, but hardly inspiring an appetite. “Not just yet. It’s still early.”

“It’s past noon.”

“Is it?” Which would mean he’d been staring at the little jar of wildflowers on the window sill for over an hour.

“Can I come in?”

“You may as well.” His tea had gone cold, too, and his notebook contained nothing but a little abstract drawing of some stars in the corner of one page. Waste of time.

One look at Crowley’s tense smile told Aziraphale that the cleaning hadn’t gone any better. His narrow shoulders slumped, just a little, when he spied the blank notebook page. “Nh. We’ll think of something,” the demon said, in a voice that tried to be light and hopeful, sliding his arms around Aziraphale’s shoulders to embrace him from behind. “Don’t give up yet.”

“I’m not… not giving up,” Aziraphale insisted, leaning back into the gentle warmth of Crowley’s love. “I’m just… I need to work my thoughts through in my head first.”

“Oh, of course.” Crowley kissed the top of his head. “Anything you want to share?”

“Ah. Well…” His eyes drifted back towards the window, through which he could see a bit of the greenhouse roof directly below, and a wide stretch of the gardens beyond. “Sandalphon will certainly back whatever plan Gabriel comes up with. Raphael, too, if only for a chance to confirm it was your Spark. Once xe gets curious about something, xe rarely lets go. Sabrael as well, though she’s likely to wait until things are mostly settled before taking a stance. Barakiel is easily enough persuaded, I think, as is Zadkiel with the right incentive. Michael or Kafziel, on the other hand—”

“And that’s enough of this,” Crowley said firmly.

“Dearest, we need to be prepared for—”

“No. Well, yes, but sitting by ourselves coming up with worst-case scenarios isn’t helping either of us.”

“I see.” Aziraphale reached up to squeeze his hand. “And what worst-case scenario did you come up with?”

“Nuh-uh. We can worry about that later. For the next… half-hour, I want us to forget all about Heaven and whatever bullshit they’re up to. Just have a normal Saturday.”

“…I’m fairly certain it’s Wednesday, my dear.”

“Not important. Let’s get you something to eat.”

“But I hardly—”

“Eat.”

Crowley overcame Aziraphale’s weak protests, leading him out of the library, down the stairs, and into the kitchen, now sparkling just a little more brightly in the sunlight. The demon stood by the stove with arms folded.

“There. Now. What are you in the mood for? I can cook you anything you like.”

“Dearest, you can hardly cook anything, apart from eggs.”

“Right. So. How do you want your eggs?”

Aziraphale couldn’t help a bit of a smile at that. “Slightly runny, I suppose.”

Read the rest on AO3!

[sleepymccoy]

Crowley and Aziraphale are absolutely adorably nauseating with each other in public, once they can be, but they’re also drama queens who enjoy that they can be rude to each other and fight without ruining things. So I posit that there are many times that their interactions have been mistaken as two strangers about to throw hands in the street

--

It was just another day at work. Phil was packaging up the slice of cake ordered by a man who was wearing sunglasses in mid winter and working on remembering the slightly convoluted sandwich order he’d just been given,

The customer who’d ordered the cake stood resting on the edge of the counter, waiting quietly as he stared at his phone. The bloke who’d spent an entire minute detailing his sandwich was still at the register, putting his wallet back together.

“Hey,” cake man said, “you dropped your- is this a fob watch?”

Phil glanced up curiously, watching in amusement as, sure enough, cake man was holding a gold fob watch and smirking at sandwich man.

“Oh, thank you,” sandwich man sad politely, holding his hand out to reclaim it. 

Cake man grinned, studying the fob watch. “I haven’t seen one of these in decades!”

Phil put the slice on the counter and muttered, “there ya go,” hoping to stop what was a needlessly rude interaction from being his problem.

“I’ll have it back, thank you,” sandwich man said tersely. 

“What century do you think this is?”

Phil sighed and started working on the sandwich. 

“I am perfectly aware of what century it is, of course,”

“Of course,” cake man mocked. 

“You’re one to talk,” sandwich man snapped. “Dressed like you woke up in a gutter three days ago and decided not to do anything about it.”

Phil finished the sandwich while cake man gaped at sandwich man in offence. He hoped they would leave before he had to do anything. Conflict resolution wasn’t his strong suit.

“I’m- how dare you-” Cake man said vaguely. Sandwich man took the moment and snatched his fob watch back. 

Phil put the sandwich on the counter too, giving sandwich man a polite smile. Cake man picked up both bags. “Sorry, that’s his order,’ Phil interrupted reluctantly.

“We’re together,” cake man said absently. They began to walk out together. “I curate this look, this takes effort,” cake man said.

Sandwich man bristled. “You clearly have no idea how much effort it takes to keep a fob watch in good condition in this era, no one knows how to fix it. I’ve had to learn clock working!”

“I can’t take full steps in these pants,” cake man complained. He opened the door and held it open, kicking a leg out to his hip as if to prove he couldn’t move it much. He was more flexible in those pants than Phil was naked. “I’ve sacrificed the ability to walk!”

“You’ve never had the ability to walk, dear. I do like you in slim pants, though.” The door shut, cutting them off, although Phil, quite bemused, saw them continuing to squabble as they walked off.

--

Sammy checked the street before crossing, of course, but it was a pedestrain stirp so she didn’t check with much focus. No cars, so she walked. She passed a nice looking man in a  cream coat who smiled at her warmly. Very warmly. She threw him half a smile and hoped he wouldn’t try to talk to her. 

As they passed a black car, old looking, came roaring around the corner, brakes screeching. The man pushed her hastily off the road and out of the way.

Sammy took a breath, feeling very much like she was made of electricity. She turned quickly, terrified of seeing the kind man mangled by the car. 

No, he was fine. He was standing in the middle of the pedestrian crossing, the bumper of the car barely an inch from his knees, glaring daggers at the driver.

The window of the car wound down slowly, the sound long and awkward in the street. A man in sunglasses leant out. “Watch where you’re going!” He yelled.

The pale man bristled. “Well, perhaps if you didn’t drive like such a maniac there wouldn’t be a risk!” 

A slender arm slipped out of the window, waving dramatically at the man in the street, who was still bravely glaring at him. “My driving is not the problem here, you didn’t even look before you crossed.”

Sammy’s saviour fixed his jacket and frowned. “I assure you, I looked, you’re just going so very far over the limit-”

“You didn’t look,” the man in the car interrupted. “I saw you, strolling about, not a care-”

“I looked,” the cream coat man snapped. “It’s your speed and- and trajectory that is so unknowable and erratic that-”

The man in the car began to climb out through his window, his body shaking with anger as he did. “I am in perfect control of this car,” he said, sitting in the window frame and leaning around to rest one hand on the windscreen. “But there’s not much that can be done for men who just waltz across the street without thinking!”

Cream coat leaned onto the bonnet and shouted, “I am perfectly safe, you nearly hit that young lady, though!” He waved a hand vaguely at Sammy. Sunglasses looked at her, then back to cream coat. 

“Phooey,” he dismissed.

The man on the street swelled for a moment, then deflated and said a casual, cheerful, “Oh!”

“What?” 

“Do you feel like pho for lunch?”

The man slipped his sunglasses down his nose and studied the other. He shrugged. “Sure,” he agreed. He clambered out the window and stood in the street. “Want me to pick some up, or go out?”

“Let’s go somewhere.”

Sunglasses nodded and got back into his car. 

“But I do need to check on the lady you nearly maimed,” cream coat said smugly. Sunglasses groaned loudly and slipped in dramatic exasperation in his seat. 

The kind man walked up to Sammy and smiled. “Are you hurt?” He asked.

“I’m fine, thank you,” Sammy muttered.

“I wouldn’t’ve hit her!” Came a loud yell from the car. The man was leaning out the window again. “You listening? I wouldn’t’ve hit her, I’ve never hit anyone.”

Cream coat smiled at her again, then his face went into a sudden frown as he returned to the car. “Oh, we both know that’s-”

“You were distracting me!” Shouted sunglasses. His arm was waving very wildly again. “Talking about love and all that bullshit, that was your fault.”

“My fault?” Repeated the man in the coat. He slipped into the passenger seat with practiced ease. “You’re mad,” he snapped. 

The car roared to life and drove both of them off. 

Sammy shook her head and went on with her day.

--

Agatha was sitting on the bench, waiting politely for the bus when a black Bentley sidled up a few doors down and parked. She watched it curiously, it reminded her of her father’s boss’s car, and she hadn’t seen the like in a while. 

As she watched the windows wound down, changing the deep, hidden thud of music to a loud rock song she didn’t recognise. The music got louder, then a man in all black slipped out of the car and climbed on the roof, laying there with his arms hanging off the edge of the car. 

Agatha pursed her lips, unimpressed with his rudeness.

A window banged open across the street. “Would you turn that racket off!” Shouted someone. Agatha turned her head slowly to see a man dressed in a nice waistcoat leaning out of the window to Mr. Fell’s bookshop. Agatha had never been inside the shop, but as it was currently closed she had to assume this was Mr. Fell. 

The rude man didn’t even look, he just flipped Mr. Fell off. 

Agatha gaped, her sympathy entirely with Mr. Fell until a moment later when he threw a stapler out his window, directly at the car.

It fell short and sat rather pathetically in the road. 

The rude man sat up and pointed at Mr. Fell. “Vandal!” He cried dramatically. Despite herself, Agatha had to agree with him. 

“Oh!” Mr. Fell shouted. “I’m trying to work, turn it off!”

“No!”

Mr. Fell disappeared from the window, only to walk out his front door a moment later, looking like a perfect picture of righteous anger. Agatha began to search through her bag to find her mobile in case she had to call the police. 

“Would you at least sit inside the car to muffle that horrible sound,” Mr. Fell asked, shouting over the loud music as he approached the car. 

The rude man swung his legs off the side of the car, sitting on the roof and facing Mr. Fell. “That’s the Beastie Boys, they get me,” he said, hitting himself in the chest emotionally. 

Mr. Fell scoffed inaudibly, his expression derisive enough, and reached between the rude man’s legs and through the open window.

“Hey!” The rude man snapped. His legs flew in wild directions then, in an action Agatha did not follow, he threw himself off the car and was standing next to Mr. Fell, whacking his arms lightly. “Hey, you don’t know what you’re doing, you’ll break it!”

The music stopped.

“Maybe,” Mr. Fell said, still reaching into the car. “Best drive away to stay safe,” he advised. 

The rude man pulled Mr. Fell’s arm out of the car. “What’re you even doing?” He asked. Mr. Fell wrenched his arm out of the rude man’s grip. “My taxes, it’s fiddly work and I need to concent-”

“Taxes?” The rude man interrupted loudly. He leaned against the car dramatically, hands in his hair. “You cancelled dinner for taxes?”

“I have to do them.”

The rude man dropped his hands and looked at Mr. Fell sadly. “You did them last year.”

“It’s a yearly thing, Crowley.”

“Ughhh how long are you going to be?”

Mr. Fell’s posture changed slightly. He leaned in to speak a bit more quietly. Agatha’s hearing was pristine, especially for her age, so she caught the softer tones. “Not too long, how about I come over to yours tomorrow?”

“Mine?”

“Yes.”

They leaned closer and spoke more quietly for a time, out of even Agatha’s hearing. She put her phone away and pointedly looked away as they briefly kissed each other. The youth these days, ridiculous.

The rude man returned to his car and drove off. Mr. Fell watched him until he rounded the corner out of sight, then turned and addressed Agatha. “I apologise, he’s a menace,” he said politely. 

Agatha smiled weakly, glad it was all over. Mr. Fell picked up his stapler and returned to his shop.

[fuckyeahisawthat]

heaven or love

Watching Aziraphale and Crowley’s breakup scene in the bandstand again, there was one thing that really stood out to me: how much Aziraphale retreats back into canned Heaven talking points.

We’re on opposite, eternally irreconcilable sides. We’re an angel and a demon and thus fundamentally different. I am literally holier than you. (Can you imagine Aziraphale, who teases Crowley about being too good, saying such a thing under any other circumstances?) Heaven shouldn’t get blood on its hands (cue ENORMOUS COSMIC LAUGH) by me killing Adam. We have nothing in common. We are not friends (let alone IN LOVE, can you even IMAGINE???). I don’t even like you. (Crowley’s “You do!” in response isn’t even hurt, it’s exasperated, like he can’t understand why they’re wasting time with this when there’s an apocalypse to stop.)

It’s all bullshit, of course. We know it, Crowley knows it, and judging by how miserable he looks, on some level Aziraphale knows it too. But I think he can’t see any way out of the coming war, and he is not--yet--ready to defy Heaven, so his only resource is to fall back on the kind of black-and-white thinking he’s been indoctrinated with his whole existence. Maybe if he says it enough times it’ll be true.

This is a character who is desperately clinging to the worldview he’s held his entire life, as it comes under enormous strain in the face of reality.

Up until the end times started, Aziraphale could kind of have it both ways. He could have his flirty lunches and under-the-table exchanges of temptations and blessings with Crowley, and he could still cling to the belief that the side he was on was right and good. But Armageddon forces a conflict between these two things, and he has to choose: Heaven or love. And at this point in the story, at the end of episode 3, he is not yet ready to choose love. He hasn’t yet broken the hold of Heaven’s ideology.

Right up until Armageddon’s doorstep, Aziraphale is still convinced that God will step in and avert catastrophe. He really believes that Gabriel, Michael, Uriel and Sandalphon are just a few bad apples. The system of Heaven is fundamentally good; they’re just being bad angels, not doing what they’re supposed to. If he can just talk to the right person, just get the word out that there’s a way to stop the apocalypse, just get a chance to explain this all to God, disaster can be averted. This is all just a horrible mistake. There is no way God would do something as destructive as let the war begin when it could be stopped.

Crowley, who has a much better handle on how Heaven and God operate, keeps telling him this isn’t going to work. There are no right people. God isn’t going to save us. She won’t answer our pleas. (She never answers.) But Crowley’s a demon; Aziraphale can’t take his word on that. He has to see it for himself.

So he finally gets as close to talking to God as he can. (He’s talking to her secretary, but that will have to do.) And what does the Metatron, the Voice of God, say about the war? The point is not to avoid the war. The point is to win it. The literal exact same fucking thing that all those bad angels have been saying.

And suddenly Aziraphale has to face the possibility that it isn’t just a few bad apples; that the system of Heaven is functioning exactly the way it’s supposed to; that its cruelty and callousness is a feature, not a bug. That God will not only not stop the war, but actually wants it to start.

This, my friends, is how you take someone who has faith in the system and turn them into a revolutionary.

It proves to be a fatal blow to his unquestioning trust in God and Heaven. When he gets accidentally sucked up to Heaven shortly thereafter, he almost immediately disobeys a direct order (“I do not intend to fight in any wars”), turns right around and goes back to Earth without permission, and is ready to fight in defiance of Heaven and Hell to stop Armageddon. He does something angels aren’t supposed to be able to do at all (possess someone). That’s a demon thing--but it turns out he’s perfectly capable of it.

But what does he do before all of this, the literal first thing he does after realizing God is not coming to save any of them?

He calls Crowley.

(Crowley’s in the middle of his own problems at the moment, and Aziraphale rapidly gets sideswiped by a surprise intervention from a whole other plotline. But the fact that Aziraphale’s first impulse is to reach out for Crowley when they’ve just had multiple breakup fights and Crowley has threatened to leave the planet...is significant.)

Looking at the larger structure of Good Omens, this is all part of a narrative arc that starts at the beginning of episode 3 and runs a little into the beginning of episode 5, until the journey to and final battle at the airfield really gets going.

Episode 3 begins with the long Aziraphale-and-Crowley-through-the-ages sequence. I think it’s notable that in the first three places we see them (Eden, Mesopotamia before the flood, and at the crucifixion) the same kind of thing is happening. Humans are suffering and God is either directly causing it or refusing to stop it. These are scenes of Crowley getting increasingly bitter at and disillusioned with God. And let’s be clear--he is already a demon. His own personal rejection by God has already happened. But he still has the capacity to be horrified by how cruel God can be to humans. Meanwhile, Aziraphale is trying to offer justifications, even though we can tell he’s not totally comfortable with what’s going down. But it’s God, right? It can’t be wrong. It’s part of an ineffable plan that is not ours to question or oppose.

By the end of this story arc, when Aziraphale goes back to Earth and finds Crowley, he’s in the same place--profoundly, bitterly disappointed by God, and angry, and ready to say fuck it and just try to do what he thinks is good and right, regardless of what anyone claims to know is God’s plan. It’s not until he’s been through that final process of breaking free of Heaven’s way of thinking that he is able to admit that yes, he really does want a life with Crowley, and there’s nothing wrong with that.

In addition to, y’know, creating a story that will just rip your fucking heart out, this is just an absolutely masterful, virtuoso example of what you can do with a complex story with multiple plotlines, and how they can intersect and bounce off each other in ways that make the whole story more powerful. 

An external conflict in one plotline (Armageddon is here) forces an interpersonal conflict in another (Aziraphale and Crowley’s relationship), which fuels an internal conflict for one character (Aziraphale), which drives him to a series of decisions (disobeying Heaven, returning to Earth, finding Crowley as soon as he can) that come back around and affect the “main” plot of stopping Armageddon. And it all fits with the series’s central themes, about the nature of God and good and evil, questioning authority and rejecting black-and-white ways of looking at the world. This is really, really brilliant writing.

[sushiandstarlight]

Cookies: Chapter 10

Previous Story: Of All The Beds In All The Hotels In All The World

Chapters 1-3 / Chapter 4 / Chapters 5 & 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9

Read this chapter on AO3

Rated: Light Teen, for suggestiveness but nothing explicit

The app on his mobile had him driving nearly an hour from the inn to find a sushi restaurant with decent reviews. It should have taken longer, but he cheated. He could say it was because he wanted to get Aziraphale to the sushi with haste, but really he wanted to get Aziraphale home with haste. Although, in the end, it all worked out to suit either premise.

They were seated quickly, Crowley having called ahead while the angel showered and changed: a blue sweater vest, that made his eyes seem to glow an iridescent blue-grey, with khakis. He didn't even know Aziraphale could dress down this way anymore and, somehow, it warmed him that he was comfortable enough to do so.

They ordered sake before the food and during the food and afterwards. Aziraphale ordered for the two of them, but Crowley begged off all but a few pieces of sushi that the angel insisted he try- by way of feeding him from his own chopsticks.

It was partly the warmth of the alcohol in his system, he thought, this bubble of ecstatic affection boiling up inside him as he watched Aziraphale enjoy his sushi. Each and every piece was it's own display of joy.

“I love that we get to have this,” he realized he was melting towards the table, chin resting crookedly in his own palm and elbow on the table, “that this isss the point of us now.”

“Me, too,” Aziraphale wiggled a bit in his chair and smiled brightly at him, his cheeks a light pink and his eyes sparkling, “I wish... Well, we wouldn't appreciate the peace of it now without the toil that got us here, would we?”

“I suppose,” Crowley made a face, but felt it relax a moment later as he went on watching Aziraphale.

“You've always done that, you know.”

“Done what?”

“You watch me.”

“I like looking at you.”

“You must do.”

“I could not watch you,” Crowley teased, sitting up and looking pointedly to the left, watching the next table over eating their food- not nearly as interesting, by far, “hmm, looks like they don't care for the tuna.” He could feel the pout the angel was aiming at him and he only maintained his fake interested look for a moment before he smiled, eyeing him out of the corner of his vision.

“I didn't say I didn't like it,” yes the pout was definitely there in his voice and then a loafer was stroking up the back of his calf, “I always thought it was a certain kind of... intimacy, even before. It was something I only ever had with you. A treasure, if also a secret. But, it's nice to know it so openly now.”

“I love you, Angel, you know that right?” The words slipped out, sounding easier than they were. It was something implied between them- shown in touches and actions- rarely said with words. The years of keeping such a thing under wraps gripped them, even now; old habits died hard. It was difficult, and he slouched in the chair so that he nearly slid under the table, but he made eye contact after his words. Somehow, Aziraphale's eyes looked even bluer than before.

“Of course, I do,” the flush on his cheeks darkened and it was clear he, too, struggled to keep eye contact, “As I love you.”

They eyed each other over the table, a frisson in the air. Of course, that's when the waitress brought the check.

“You fellas have a good night, okay?” They both jumped, staring at her as if she had appeared out of thin air, “You be careful getting home. That was a lot of sake you put away.”

“Of course, dear,” Aziraphale gathered his wits first and smiled up at her, “we'll be fine.”

Crowley paid the bill, he didn't ask the angel how much he tipped her.

-

They were halfway home and Crowley knew there was something they were supposed to discuss over dinner, he was just wracking his brain to remember what it was. He couldn't blame the alcohol anymore because he'd sobered up for the drive. Though, he'd insisted that Aziraphale didn't need to bother and, amazingly, the angel had conceded. He'd left the restaurant, arms wrapped around one of Crowley's and leaning snuggly into his side.

Only right now that same angel's hand was creeping, not so stealthily despite his efforts, up his thigh. It wasn't helping him remember the important thing to talk about. His pinky was just a hair from discovering just how distracted and affected Crowley was when they turned down the drive of the inn. Crowley noticed a light upstairs was still on, though the rest of the inn, save the light on the porch and in the foyer, were out. That final light went out, too, a moment later.

Gladys had waited up for them to get home. Crowley felt that surge of protectiveness again. Funny, that, since she was the one looking out for them. A moment later, as he parked, he wondered...

“If she's still up now, do you think I get to sleep in tomorrow.”

“Doubtful, darling,” his fingers had found their prize and he was teasing oh so gently.

“There was something we were sup-Posed to talk about, Angel,” Crowley shifted, more blood leaving his brain and with it, the chance of remembering. But then: “Ah!”

He watched Aziraphale jump and snatch back his hand, looking around wildly.

“What? What is it?”

“No, I remembered.”

“Remembered what?” Oh, but he sounded a bit bitchy now. That did nothing to stamp down the flames he'd lit in Crowley. Still, he tried to bank them. In a minute, they could get back to that in a minute.

“Gladys wants us to stay for Christmas.” Might as well rip the plaster off in one go.

“Oh.” There wasn't any indication of feeling in the one word. Crowley tried again.

“You don't have to stay. I know you probably have plans in the-”

“I don't.”

“Don't what?”

“Have plans.”

“Bullshit, you've been sneaking around making plans for weeks.”

Aziraphale paused, considering this. Or considering the glimmer of the windshield. It was hard to tell when his brain was rattled.

“It wouldn't be the first Christmas we'd be apart.”

“My plans have all been to be with you, Crowley.”

“What?”

“So it doesn't really matter where we are.”

“Oh.”

“It might be nice to be here, instead,” Aziraphale leaned close to him, “I've enjoyed our stay so far, haven't you?”

“... well, yeah,” Crowley swallowed, watching Aziraphale look at him the way he'd eyed the plate of sushi when it had first arrived at the table.

“Then, it's decided. We stay through Christmas. Was there anything else you wanted to discuss?”

“N-no?”

“Good,” Aziraphale reached over, pulled him over by the ear and kissed him senseless. When they finally made it out of the car, he followed the angel- dazed by his kisses just as much as the angel was by the alcohol in his system- across the lot, over the porch, and up the stairs. By some miracle, they both kept their feet beneath them.

Crowley would follow him anywhere and, when they stepped inside their room, he told the angel as such. Aziraphale's smile bloomed like flowers in the spring and he crooked a finger.

“Only a little more ways to go now, my darling.”

Chapter 11 is now up!

[lenaellsi]

I'm wondering how much of the fandom reaction of "Aziraphale doesn't ACTUALLY want Crowley to be an angel, he just wants to keep him safe/happy!" is because we spent four years between seasons assuming that Aziraphale had already accepted that Heaven and Hell aren't all that different, and that demons and angels aren't inherently good or bad. And it's difficult to let go of that idea in the same way that it's difficult to let go of the idea that they talked their shit out That Night At Crowley's Flat and have been happy ever since. But to actually understand Aziraphale's choice without hiding it behind coffee or lies or secret plans or body swaps or magic tricks or purely romantic intentions, we have to to understand that Aziraphale is still working under an incorrect framework of the world as divided into Cosmic Good and Cosmic Evil.

Because the thing is. Aziraphale does not like that Crowley is a demon. He just doesn't. We can talk about his reasons, but I really don't think that it's a disputable fact at this point. Aziraphale CONSTANTLY talks down to Crowley about the differences between them, and disparages demons in general and Crowley in particular over and over again. I mean, he's obviously just spewing the party line at this point, but he even describes the ultimate triumph of Heaven over Hell as "rather lovely." To Crowley. Where does he think Crowley fits, in that scenario? Is he thinking about it? (He is, surely, given how distressed he is over the danger Crowley is in due to the Arrangement?)

Crowley, to be fair, often says similar things about himself, and hates when Aziraphale calls him things like 'nice.' But as I've mentioned in another post, I think 2.03 makes it all but canon that a lot of that is self-preservation. Hell can't know that he's running around saving children and rescuing people from suicide and poverty, or he'll get dragged down there for decades. Crowley doesn't really think of himself as evil--he's visibly upset during their argument when Aziraphale hits him with "you're the bad guys!" because he thinks Aziraphale knows him better than that.

But instead, Aziraphale makes knee-jerk assumptions about Crowley and his intentions over and over again, including that he's behind the Reign of Terror in Paris and, about two minutes before realizing he's in love with him, that he's working with Nazis. Crowley seems annoyed and hurt both times, and denies it. There's no demonic posturing from him then.

Which makes the Job ep really interesting, right? Because Crowley actively lies and says that he is doing the properly demonic thing, but Aziraphale doesn't buy it. And why doesn't he buy it?

"I know the angel you were."

To Aziraphale, Crowley's kindness stems from the traces of that angel he knew. He thinks Crowley does good in spite of his nature, and not because of who he is as a person, life experiences as a demon very much included. This is because to Aziraphale, Heaven is Good, and all goodness must stem from it.

I've seen people get accused, when making this point, of attacking Aziraphale, or saying that he doesn't love Crowley, which is a ridiculous takeaway from S2. I've never seen a person more obviously in love, or a person more obviously trying to do good in the world. But so much of Aziraphale is tied up in his ability to believe multiple contradictory things at once. (See: the 80 years between "maybe there is something to be said for shades of gray" and "Heaven is the side of truth, of light, of good.") That doesn't make him stupid or ill-intentioned (in fact, he wouldn't need to do the kind of mental gymnastics we see from him if he wasn't clever enough to see through at least some of the bullshit) but it does mean that he's fully capable of loving Crowley while at the same time believing that demons are 'the bad guys.' Solution? Make Crowley an angel. Fix him, fix the bad apples in Heaven, be happy together, eliminate human suffering. Vavoom. Sorted.

Idk man. I'm constantly seeing takes that just...completely discount that Aziraphale really, genuinely, has misunderstood Crowley and the way the world works in his choice to return to Heaven. We can't blame it all on miscommunication. The most honest conversation in the world wouldn't fix this. Aziraphale has to go up there, without Crowley, and learn for the last time that Heaven is not Good, and will never be Good, because there is no Good. Good doesn't come from Heaven, or God, or even Crowley (and I see y'all, putting Crowley on a pedestal, saying Aziraphale wants to remake Heaven in his image--stop it.) Good comes from making the choice, in a very complicated world, to help as best you can, and it comes from love. And that's what Aziraphale will learn in season 3.

[wanna-b-poet31]

Crowley’s Truth and Aziraphale’s Lies (A 3-part series) Part 1: Crowley’s Heartbreaking Honesty

So I could do a whole series about why Crowley (in all his piety) is fallen and Aziraphale (in all his temptations) is not. However, I wanted to focus this series strictly on the use of honesty and lies throughout Good Omens. I argue that honesty (and the irony of an honest Demon and a lying Angel) is a tool for establishing their place in-between Heaven and Hell.  They serve as hybrids, a liminal space between holy and hellish, allowing for their supposed “flaws” to shine, and enable them to form their own side.  

Crowley’s Motivation:

One of Crowley’s defining traits is his imagination. Unlike any other celestial entity, he can create ideas, questions, and fabrications at a moment’s notice.  Crowley’s no Saint, he lies to Hastur easily (about calling the demonic counsel), he impersonates Aziraphale stunningly, and (if Aziraphale recalls correctly) he takes credit for all of the horrendous things humanity has done throughout the years (even earning himself some commendations along the way).  So he CAN lie, quite well actually, so long as he has the proper motivation.

And, without fail what IS his motivation? Who (or what) inspires him and allows him to focus his thoughts even when he’s panicking (and possibly trying his best to cope with his piles of trauma)?  Certainly not humanity alone, and certainly not because he has any sense of self-preservation. The man ran into a burning building head first without a second thought; he drove his beloved car through literal hellfire; he walked across consecrated ground despite being burned simply because he told himself he could.  No, he there’s only 1 thing that motivates him.

Aziraphale (of course) 

Crowley: Would I Lie To You?

Crowley lies at least 5 notable times throughout the series.

His reports about the ill-deeds he’s responsible for are riddled with lies and half-truths (which is a general fuck you Hell kind of lie)

He fails to tell the higher-ups in Hell about his knowledge about the Anti-Christ, the location of the Anti-Christ and neglected to correct Hell about it (a Fuck you Satan kind of lie)

He hides and ignores the agreement he’s made with Aziraphale from Hell (A Fuck you Heaven and Hell kind of lie) 

He deceives Hastur, several times but most notably after Ligur’s death (a fuck you Hastur kind of lie, and he’s murderous so he deserves it sorta)

He Impersonates Aziraphale (An F to the U to Heaven kind of lie) 

The notable exemption from this list is Aziraphale. 

Unlike the demons who he deceives at any given moment (particularly in defense of Aziraphale), he refuses to lie to Aziraphale. 

Are you Satan and have just “blessed” Crowley with the staring role in the Apocalypse?  Yeah, great (lies through his teeth about wanting to partake). 

 Are you a Duke of Hell inquiring about where the Anti-Christ is and trying to confront Crowley about his relationship with Aziraphale? “So Longggg Suckaaas” I’m gonna lie lie lie and possibly kill you for coming towards me. 

Are you heaven trying to torture my best friend >lover< with hellfire that will surely kill him? Not today motherfucker, because guess what? Now I’m him and I’ll lie my ass off to protect him. 

Are you an Angel who shows free will and loves humanity as much as he does? 404 Error lies not found. 

This is not to say he’s always straightforward with Aziraphale. because God, Satan, Someone knows he’s got a flair for the dramatic. But not even does he lie through omission.  Whenever Aziraphale asks a question, no matter how light-hearted or series Crowley’s being, he will always give an honest answer, even if it sometimes goes over the angel’s head. >see: Crowley being a blubbering mess because his best friend died and Aziraphale not quite understanding that the best friend is him< 

He’s also oddly cryptic when he’s asking for holy water, but never once does Crowley lie. Sure, he’s trying to speak in code “because the trees have ears”, but when he says it’s for insurance, not a suicide pill, it is for insurance. 

He can tell that his relationship with Aziraphale has morphed in such a way that it would put him and Aziraphale in danger if Hell ever found out about it.  Aziraphale, simply, does not believe him that his only motivation is protection because it is too close to his own fears about Crowley being destroyed. 

Which is why I think he’s so upset about the word “fraternize”. First, there is a class element involved with the Victorian use of the word (usually referring to someone of a higher class interacting friendly to a lower class member). Where Aziraphale may have meant comradery (and brotherhood, which also not how Crowley views their relationship) Crowley certainly acts as if he took it to mean Aziraphale was speaking to him like an enemy or an “inferior” species. 

This is only further supported by Aziraphale’s accusatory “we may have both started out as Angels, but YOU are fallen”, placing (in my opinion) too much emphasis on Crowley’s fall (a huge trauma trigger for him). But this whole characterization of their relationship is a lie Aziraphale tells himself to repress his fears about Heaven’s traumatic treatment of him. By this point in their partnership (as we’ve seen) both he and Crowley go out of their ways to treat each other as equals. To deny it, to repress their feeling is a slap. in. the. face. 

Further, the audience for lying clearly matters to Crowley.  In the relative privacy of the park, Aziraphale says “fraternize”, which doesn’t do enough justice for the kind of intimacy the uniquely share. It implies they could be enemies or strangers (which they aren’t, they’re at least friends). Crowley is so intimately aware that even now, in the 1800′s, it’s them (and humanity) against divinity.  And, Crowley refuses to lie to Aziraphale, especially about the sort of relationship they share. Sure he won’t tell the other demons, and sure as hell won’t tell the angels how deep their relationship goes, but in this private moment, where he’s approaching as a partner (not an adversary)? It would be the worst kind of lie. It would ignore or erase the new space they’ve created for themselves where they can be equals. 

In the above gif, we see Crowley angry and lash out. He says harsh words and insists that he doesn’t need Aziraphale. Since we’re counting, I don’t think this is a lie. Now no, he clearly does need Aziraphale in his life, but he’s just been smacked in the face with the insinuation that they are not equals, they are not friends, they are enemies, and I believe him at this moment, a very hurt Crowley, decides if that’s how Aziraphale is going to treat him, then he will treat him like all his other enemies. At the moment he says I think it he means it because Crowley cannot make time for someone who won’t take his concerns seriously and thinks so little of their relationship.  If he can’t be seen as an equal, he’d prefer not to be seen at all. 

Although, this is a temporary truth, and one Crowley is willing to correct Aziraphale about in a way he never does for his hellish counterparts. Crowley cares too deeply to wish Aziraphale any real harm, even if Aziraphale can’t call a spade a spade. Crowley sure as Hell would move heaven and earth to demonstrate the extent of his love. He shows as much in his rescue in 1941, and again when Aziraphale once again lies and says “we’re not friends...I don’t even like you” in the bandstand. These lies actively hurt Crowley but not once does he retaliate with.  Instead, he meets Aziraphale with blunt honesty. Saying “yes you do” doing everything he can to get Aziraphale on the same page, and share their truth. 

Look at the above gif. Not only does Crowley KNOW Aziraphale is lying, but Aziraphale knows it too. While he clearly loves Crowley and has loved Crowley for some time, his inability to work through his anxieties and rely on Crowley as a support system, as a partner, he can’t come to terms with his own trauma. 

So, he lies. 

He lies and he hurts Crowley. He lies and he dismisses Crowley’s honesty. He lies and he harms himself because they both know this is a facade he can’t keep up much longer. He lies, and Crowley still meets him with honesty and forgiveness. 

And honestly, it breaks his heart to be lied to, but he knows the alternative solution would be no best friend at all. Under normal circumstances, Crowley could be patient. He could wait for Aziraphale to come to terms with their relationship almost for forever. But, shit hits the fan, and he needs to show Aziraphale that two of them need to stop dancing, stop being cryptic, and cut through the bullshit for once. 

Which brings me to the first Gif of this section. Take a moment, scroll the ridiculous amount up, and just look at the indignation on his face. in the earlier gif “Would I lie to you?”, he clearly consciously makes a point to never lie to Aziraphale, despite it supposedly being “the demon’s way”. Not in anger (like at the bandstand) not even if it’s uncomfortable (like when he’s criticizing Aziraphale for being so clever and so stupid), not even if the angel is (knowingly or unknowingly) hurting him with his lies. 

Crowley draws the line at tainting his relationship with the kind of lies Heaven tells, and the kind of disregard Hell tells.  Because despite the lies he’s told by Aziraphale, Crowley knows who he can trust, who he needs on his side, who he wants to spend the end of the world with, and it sure as hell isn’t Hastur or Beelzebub.  

Because at the end of the day, Crowley knows what the two of them share together.  One great way to see this comparison is to checkout @theladyzephyr ‘s meta on Crowley and his glasses. Because while he does let his guard down for Aziraphale (even if only drunk), his autonomy, his consent to wear/not wear his glasses is taken from in by Hastur in the above gif’s scene.  Aziraphale, for all his lies, does not cross the same boundaries as Hell does, and genuinely cares for Crowley. He shows remorse for his actions and is clearly just as hurt by his own lies as Crowley is. 

A Very Crowley’s Conclusion

But what does this mean in terms of his Honesty? Well, for starters, demonstrates that while he has the power to lie, and could lie to Aziraphale (functionally I mean) he chooses not to.

He might, every now and then poke him and partake in some friendly banter, but never is it mean spirited, not even when they’re both at their breaking points. His ability to lie but restraint from lying; his ability to deceive, but his choice to trust, sets him apart from the rest of the demonic mold.  

Quite honestly, He probably could tempt (like really tempt) Aziraphale to his side. He could manipulate and push the Angel into situations they both know he would be uncomfortable with. But, he doesn’t. He doesn’t become the abusive force Heaven and Hell have pushed on the two of them because that’s not how he wants or needs to cope with his loss. No, he needs an equal, not a lackey. He needs an equal, not a boss. He needs love, not control. 

It becomes clear that his loyalties have never (at least not in the series) been with Hell. Crowley doesn’t trust or care about his fellow demons. He kills one (permanently) and another (not so permanently) without hesitation. He defies (actively and with little regard for the safety of other celestial creatures) the desires of Hell, working with his bestie to ensure the world breaks even. 

Consequently, he’s creating a “third” option with Aziraphale. It is distinctly not a human space (neither of them is human). It’s is not heavenly or hellish, but space for them to be who they are, fight for what they love and feel safe knowing they are a team (romantic or otherwise). And it’s clear based on who he lies to and how he lies, that he’s not cut out for the Demon frenzy or the demon.

Their third space is what Crowley’s been working for since day one because Aziraphale is worth lying to others to protect and worth telling the truth to love. 

Thanks for coming to my TedTalk

[alysmarylin]

Crowley's thoughts

- Garden of Eden : Well well well, what do we got here, a rebel angel... YOU WHAT?! I'm kinda impressed to tell ya

- Noah's Arc: Hm, isn't that a cutie angel with a funny name, I'm gonna troll the Hell out of him about the sword... Looks like there's something more about him than meets the eye, I admit I'm intrigued

- Golgotha: Well it's hardly the time or the place but just look at him dodging around, what a snack, Jes.. I mean, you know.

-Rome: Weeeell well well he's FLIRTING with me, isn't he?! Well that's what I call a pleasant surprise, we shall see what's up there, shall we not...

- Wessex: I'm betting all my money he'll come here within 20 minutes trying desperately to pretend it was me who made him agree. Well, that's quite a character, isn't he, looks like I'll stick around him for quite some while

- Globe: I've got not a single damn clue how that even happened, but I find myself fulfilling and feeding this simpering asshole's whims for 6 centuries now, and the worst part is that I think I'm more than willing to come for more

- Bastille: Just look at him, the only part that's missing is fishnets, he's kinky as Hell, just look at the way he's posing himself, so ripe for a resque... And why do I have this strong feeling that "crepes" is a euphemism for something horribly indecent?!

- St. James Park: Fraternizing. Fraternizing, for Satan's sake, un-fucking-believable!!! After everything! Right, you go to hell, EVERYONE, I'm gonna sleep for an entire century now, I'm never gonna make the same mistake again, I won't ever let anyone near my heart, never...To Hell with it all... aBviousLEH

- 1941: Ahahaa that's a good one, some complete and utter dumbass is gonna get in the most obvious Nazi trap in a century, out-fucking-standing, what is it with those Brits, ahaha... * reads the name "A.Z. Fell * OH SHHHHIT THAT'S MY DUMBASS

* races in his Bently, dodging the bombs falling from the sky * Okay last time I saw him I ended up crying for 2 and a half years but thats still my call

After the bandstand breakup, after listening the sappiest rock-ballads for 5 hours straight and wiping his tears off: Life is life, Crowley. Don't chase someone who pushes you away. If you love somebody, set them free. The stars are waiting for you. Everyone chooses their own path. No one can understand the depth of a demon's soul.

After, like, 12 hours or something: Where's that bastard, where is he, where.. Oh here he is ANGEL GET IN THE CAR NOW PLEASE FORGIVE ME FOR WHATEVER JUST COME BACK FINE

In the pub, after hearing "pity I can't inhabit yours":

Demon software: "We're not friends" - "I don't even like you" - "It's over" - "You're being ridiculous" - ...... "PITY I CAN'T INHABIT YOURS" * loud high-pitch noises of broken compluter * WINDOWS BLUE SCREEN *

After a while in a car with Hastur: Waaaaait he said he want to be IN MY BODY? Woooahh what do you mean a fire circle 100 meters thick, couldn't care less, FULL SPEED AAAAHH YEEEAAAH I'M COMING WE WILL ROCK YOU WAIT FOR ME WAIT I'LL SHOW YOU THE BODY YOU'LL DEFINATELY BE IN

While being pressed to the ground with Satanic forces: Well that's it. Screw the world, farewell my sweet delicious candy

Aziraphale: Ugh, Crowley, get real, if you're not saving us now, I, like, won't talk to you, you know

Crowley: THE FUCK DID YOU JUST SAY EVERYONE FREEZE TIME YOU STOP RIGHT NOW FUCKER YOU ANTICHRIST BRAT WHATEVER YOUR NAME YOU CHANGE REALITY NOOOW WHAT DO YOU MEAN HOW, LIKE I KNOW, IF YOU DON'T DO IT PROPERLY YOU DON'T WANNA KNOW WHAT I'M GONNA DO WITH THIS METAL THING FROM MY CAR COMEEE OOON YEEEEHAAAAAAH

Later on the bus station: Your SIDE wouldn't like it???!!! You told archangel fucking Gabriel to shove his horn up his... Aaahh, right, I get it. You want me to do this for you, a'right, I'm gonna propose...

In the bus: *grabs angel's hand* Enough of this bullshit I'm not gonna let you go now

In the Ritz: "Just a little bit a good person", can you fucking believe that, just a little bit, fine

ANGEL YOU'RE A HUGE BASTARD AND I LOVE YOU MORE THAN LIFE ITSELF

[unproblematicme]

Good Omens: The “other” couples

It happens, very rarely, that I stop thinking about Crowley and Aziraphale and how perfect they are for each other and how much they love each other and complement each other and… ahem… right, the other couples. Sometimes I think about the other couples.

I often hear (or read) Good Omens fans speaking about disliking the pairing Shadwell/Tracy. Which of course is valid, tastes differ. But lots of people seem to dislike the pairing because they are – in lack of a better word – worried for Tracy due to the fact that Shadwell treats her very harshly and regularly calls her a whore (or several synonyms for it).

I am aware that a lot of fans aren’t too keen on Anathema/Newt as well, but it seems that they just find them bland or don’t think there is a lot of chemistry going on.

We are all aware that these are fictional characters and they don’t need anyone to worry about them, but if they weren’t, I’d actually be more worried about Anathema than about Tracy.

As I said, everybody is entitled to their opinion and if that’s how you feel, that’s fine. I just love rambling about Good Omens so here are my thoughts about this issue.

I personally don’t have any problems with the pairing Shadwell/Tracy. It’s not my favorite pairing ever, but those two are kind of cute. Now I get it. Shadwell is a problematic character right out of the late eighties/early nineties and if you don’t like him, you probably don’t want to see him with a character you do like. Maybe it’s because I’m too old to be always politically correct, maybe I’m too insensitive, maybe I’m a nostalgic fool who found him funny and likable when I was a teen and can’t let go. Maybe it’s all of these. But I like him. I love this horribly imperfect wacko who is a self-righteous fraud, is as sensible and empathetic as a brick and permanently picks on Madame Tracy most likely because he cannot cope with the fact that he cares for her just as much as the other way around. He, a noble witchfinder, has a soft spot for a whore! Oh dear.

Anyway, when I look at Tracy’s reaction, I don’t think I need to worry about her. When he calls her a Jezebel or whatever, she does not flinch or look hurt. She flutters with her lashes, looks away coyly and breathes a flattered “Oh, Mr. Shadwell”. She doesn’t sadly tolerate it, endure it under great pain or begrudgingly accept it – she likes it. Now if your man calls you a Jezebel even though you hate it, screw him. But if he does it and you like it – more power to you. Tracy is not a young woman, she is experienced and due to her profession has met too many people, especially men, to take shit from anyone. She is woman enough to stand up for herself if needed.

Comparing her to Anathema, we see a whole different thing. Sure, Anathema is clever, talented and takes no bullshit either – from most people. Except Agnes Nutter.

Anathema had sex with Newt because the prophecy said so.

I will admit that my immature teenage self back in the 90s found the “sex prophecy” kind of funny, but nowadays I find it kind of ...um...rapey? Sure, you can say that it was her decision to follow the prophecy. But is it that easy? Unlike Tracy, Anathema is very young (the book has her in her early twenties, I think) and has been told her whole life to “do what the book says”. And the book said to have sex with Newt.

And I’m not saying it’s Newt’s fault. He didn’t know and was visibly horrified after learning about it. I always wondered whether his questions if Anathema NEVER did anything for herself, was a desperate attempt to verify that she actually wanted to sleep with him. Poor guy.

That being said, yes, Newt is a better person than Shadwell, but I’m talking about the pairings here, not the involved men. And while Tracy, a grown, experienced woman knows what she is getting herself into (she has lived with the guy for years and years), Anathema, a young woman, trained to follow a prophecy, is pushed into bed with a (admittedly nice) man she doesn’t even know.

Turns out, she likes him enough to “keep” him even though Agnes said they “only do it once”. I’m sure she will be fine. No huge harm done. She is no traumatised victim who’ll never be happy again. We probably don’t need to worry about her.

But neither do we need to concern ourselves about Tracy. She has seen the best and the worst (more of the worst, I am sure) of Shadwell and willingly chooses him. That may seem crazy, but if it makes her happy, I won’t judge.

[thinkingisadangerouspastime]

to be selfish

(in which plans are ruined, sparks fly, and selfish, selfish choices are made)

based on this prompt by @alltheprettygirlsintheworld!

id also like to thank @alltheprettygirlsintheworld for always reblogging my writing and leaving kind comments!! your support means the world to me 💕 i hope this fic is at least somewhat like what you were looking for!

~*~

Everything that could have possibly gone wrong had gone wrong.

Luck of the devil, Crowley supposed, though by that he meant he had the worst luck in history.

The picnic had been rained out, the Bentley had broken down, and even after miracling the poor car back into shape, Crowley and Aziraphale had gotten stuck in a line of traffic that hadn't moved whatsoever in the past fifteen minutes.

Worst of all, Crowley's plan had also been completely and utterly ruined. 6000 years of waiting washed down the drain. Quite literally, too.

Damn thunderstorm.

Needless to say, the demon was not in a cheerful mood.

"I'm sorry," Aziraphale murmured. An open book was resting on his lap, though even out of the corner of his eye Crowley could tell the angel wasn't reading it.

He sighed. "Not your fault. Last I checked, angel, you can't control the weather."

"I'm not talking about that. I mean, I am sorry it rained." Aziraphale closed his book after tucking a bookmark between the pages. "I'm sorry you're so disappointed, my dear. I know how much effort you put into planning this. Finding the right spot, and preparing the food yourself and all." His chewed on his lip. "Is there anything I can do, or say to - to cheer you up?"

Crowley chuckled, leaning back into his seat and turning to offer the angel a soft smile. Traffic wouldn't be moving anytime soon. He could afford to take his eyes off the road for a few seconds. "You can agree to come on a picnic with me whenever it's not raining."

Aziraphale beamed at him, and Crowley's heart jumped into his throat, as it so often did when his angel smiled. "That sounds lovely, my dear. I'd be delighted to join you again."

Crowley absentmindedly tapped his fingers on the steering wheel as the conversation passed. He frowned. "You do know, angel, that you don't have to apologize for anything. I should be the one saying sorry for not checking the weather report before we left."

A tiny smile crept onto Aziraphale's lips. "I suppose we're both apologizing for things we don't need to, then."

"I guess we are."

Silence fell between them. The Bentley inched forward as rain pattered softly on the roof. Lightning flashed a brilliant purple in the sky, followed by a deep echo of thunder.

Aziraphale finally said with a huff, "Oh, just spill it, Crowley. It is not like you to be so - so mute when it comes to a few cancelled plans. Especially something like this. What are on Earth are you not telling me?"

Crowley's grip tightened on the steering wheel. This was not a topic he wanted to discuss. Not now, at least. Not without preparation. He didn't dare turn to look at Aziraphale. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"My dear, you are radiating dejection. It's almost smothering! Why can't you just be honest with -" Aziraphale cut himself off with a shuddering sigh. When he spoke again, his voice was even. Gentle. "Please. Tell me what's wrong."

Crowley's gaze remained steadfast on the road in front of him. "Nothing's wrong. I would tell you if there was a problem."

"Oh, please. You wouldn't. You never talk about your feelings. Not with me."

Crowley stiffened so sharply at the angel's words that he nearly snapped off part of the steering wheel.

"Good Lord!" Aziraphale exclaimed, startled by his abrupt reaction. "What was that all about?"

Crowley didn't respond, praying the angel wouldn't connect the dots.

(Then again, since when had God ever listened to his prayers?)

"Feelings," Aziraphale murmured. He blushed. "I'm going to make an educated guess, my dear, that you were planning to talk about... Our relationship."

Crowley bit back a sigh. Now it wasn't even worth trying to change the subject. "Maybe." He shrugged. "Not like it matters anymore." A lie. "Don't know if you noticed, angel, but whatever I might or might not have planned has gone to shit now."

Aziraphale chuckled. "It's not that bad." He reached over, gently cupping Crowley's cheek before slowly turning the demon's head to face him. "Look at me, my dear."

Crowley was distinctly aware of how red his face had to be. Extremely embarrassing. "But traffic -"

"- won't be moving for another hour. We both know that."

He hated it when the angel had a point. He sighed, reluctantly taking his hands off the steering wheel and turning so his body also faced Aziraphale. "Okay. I'm looking at you."

"Now tell me what you planned to say at the picnic."

Crowley exhaled, though it sounded more like a hiss. "I can't."

Aziraphale frowned. "Why not?"

"I just can't, angel!" he snapped. "I don't know what the hell I was going to say." Not entirely a lie. He didn't have a speech prepared or anything. All he'd wanted to do was hold the angel's hand and - and see what happened after that.

He couldn't risk going too fast.

Aziraphale softened. He had an uncanny way of knowing when the demon was being honest. "Alright. Then I'll tell you what I planned to say."

Calling that an unexpected reply would have been an understatement. Crowley somehow managed to nod in response.

Aziraphale fiddled with his pinky ring, taking a deep breath before he began. "I know that you love me, my dear, though I also know you would never allow yourself to admit that out loud. I can feel your love. I've felt it since - well, since the beginning, I suppose. But I have never said that I love you, dear boy. And since there's no time like the present..." He bit his lip. "I love you, too, Crowley. So very, very much. And I have for far longer than I dare to admit."

Inside, Crowley was already aware of this. He couldn't detect love like angels could, but he was no idiot. And Aziraphale had never been good at hiding his feelings. Eyes were windows to the soul, after all.

"And - And I'm sure you're wondering why I waited so long to say anything," Aziraphale continued. "But I was afraid, Crowley! Afraid of what Hell would do to you if they ever found out about - about us." He stared at the demon, and Crowley's heart clenched as he saw tears glistening in the angel's eyes. "For me... I knew that if I Fell, I Fell. So be it. But for you the only consequence would have been complete destruction! I couldn't risk that something horrible happened to you because of my - because of my selfishness."

Crowley raised an eyebrow. "Your selfishness?"

Aziraphale managed a weak laugh. "Yes. Me, selfishly wanting to be with you. To be able to love you without worrying about any of the consequences. Just... Us."

Crowley didn't know how to respond. Or maybe it was the lump in his throat that prevented him from speaking. Either way, he was silent.

"But I've had enough of the - the bullshit from our head offices. I'm allowed to be selfish every once in a while! And I don't care if that makes me unangelic!" Aziraphale reached out to take Crowley's hands in his. "I'm ready to go as fast as you want, Crowley. Anywhere you go, from Earth to Alpha Centauri, I will be there. With you. Even if that means you end up driving this blasted car a hundred miles over the speed limit."

Crowley chuckled, squeezing the angel's hands. Everything he'd ever wanted to hear was finally being said, but now that the moment had come, he could hardly process it. "Angel," he finally whispered, "I think... I think I might be in love with you."

Aziraphale laughed, freeing one of his hands to reach up and wipe away tears trickling down his face. "Think? My dear, I know you are."

Time stood still as Crowley took off his sunglasses and tossed them into an empty cupholder before slowly leaning towards Aziraphale, his head tilted, eyes shut, and his lips parted ever so slightly -

Then he hesitated.

There is no "our side"!

I don't even like you!

You go too fast for me, Crowley.

He couldn't do it.

"Dammit," he muttered, letting his head fall and come to rest on the angel's shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," was Aziraphale's reply before he lifted Crowley's chin and closed the distance between them.

The kiss was gentle. Tender. And hesitant, neither wanting to rush the other. It was a kiss filled with patience and 6000 years of waiting, a kiss burning with passion and 6000 years of longing. Perhaps there was even a bit of temptation.

(Who was doing the tempting, well, neither could say.)

The kiss was broken when the car behind them blared its horn, startling the both of them.

"Bastard," Crowley muttered as he drove the Bentley less than a car-length forward. "As if moving up five feet really makes a difference."

Aziraphale chuckled. "Humans always have places to be and things to do."

"Yeah, well, if he really needs to be somewhere, he might as well get out of his car and start walking."

"I suppose we're lucky we don't have plans."

Crowley snorted. "You may not have plans, angel, but I do."

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. "Really? What plans do you have?"

Crowley smirked. "I was planning to convince you to be selfish and kiss me again. Preferably more than once."

Aziraphale rolled his eyes, though Crowley didn't miss the small smile dancing on his lips. "Oh, you're ridiculous."

"Mm. I know. And you love it."

"Well..." He chuckled. "Yes, I suppose I do."

(Although, as it turned out, his angel didn't need much convincing. It was also no coincidence that the Bentley started to play "Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy" on repeat - and refused to stop. Some things, it seemed, were simply fated to be. A little selfishness never did harm anyone, after all.)

~*~

[dolphin-bouillabaisse]

GO-ctober Prompts, 2

Inktober except without the ink, and with drabbles instead.

Prompt #2 - Mindless

(previous | next | beginning)

(find it all on Ao3)

Note: I wasn’t too fond of the first definition of mindless (to do something without concern for the consequences) because I didn’t wanna go for sad or whump so early on in the prompts. So instead I went with the idea of ‘mindless tasks / repetitions’.

Crowley was staring at Aziraphale eating. That, in itself, was nothing unusual.

What was unusual was the reason for the stare.

Previously, staring at Aziraphale had been a a very nice bonus to going to a restaurant with him, considering Crowley didn't really bother enjoying the food. Right now, it was more in an attempt to figure out what, exactly, was happening with the angel.

There wasn't much to enjoy this time around, anyway, as Aziraphale was rather more fighting his way through the dish, instead of the usual giddy smiles and happy moans whenever he got a mouthful of his favourite desserts.

He put down the fork after his last bite and looked almost relieved to be done.

“Well, that was certainly something unique.” Knowing the angel's speech well enough, Crowley was surprised that he chose such rude words to describe any food.

“Coulda told you that would be awful the moment you ordered it.”

“I didn't say awful.” He dabbed at the edge of his mouth with the frayed, eco-friendly napkin. “Just unique.”

“Angel. What. The. Fuck-”

“Language!”

“What the frigiddy-frag-”

“Now you're making fun of me.”

“Will you let me finish my question?”

“Only if you can ask it in a more polite manner.”

Crowley sighed. He was getting a headache, and it was only partially due to the horrible off-beat sounds coming from the speakers above them, blaring what the owner of the restaurant considered 'good music', but what others might describe as 'tone-deaf attempts at something that might resemble jazz if a person who'd never heard jazz or really any kind of music before tried to play it'.

“Angel. What is going on? Why are we here?”

“We had lunch.”

“No shit.” That, luckily, only earned him a stern look but no remark. “Though I wouldn't exactly call what was on your plate lunch.” He scowled at the waitress, who picked up said plate without a word nor smile on her lips, chewing on her gum. “But why are we here?”

Here was a tiny, overheated restaurant on almost the outskirts of town, in an area that Crowley knew had been described as “up and coming” in several newspapers, although those reports had been coming for several years now, and the area was very much neither up nor coming anywhere. The food was, as proven, indescribable, the décor garish, the clientele so hipster that it hurt to look at some of them. And inbetween all of this, a demon and an angel, starkly out of place in their black and off-white outfits.

“I just felt like trying something new. I'd heard good things about this place.” That was true, insofar as various people in the coffeeshop that had opened up close to Aziraphale's place had been talking about the restaurant, and sadly his sense of irony or sarcasm wasn't developed enough to hear the difference between 'good' and 'good' in a human's voice.

“And that's all?”

“That's all.”

Crowley scoffed. “I call bullshit.” Another stern look, but he was right.

Last week, Aziraphale had spontaneously asked if they could go for lunch instead of dinner, and they'd ended up at a place that did some kind of fusion food, which Crowley concluded must mean the fusion of inedible food with unbearable stench. Two days ago, after dinner at one of their well-known restaurants, Aziraphale had dragged him into a bar for a nightcap instead of back to the bookshop. A bar. At which they'd paid way too much for far too little alcohol (not that money mattered to them, but it was very much the principle of the thing for Crowley when it came to alcohol), had been unable to hear one another over the loud music, but had very much been able to almost start a fight after the second round of strange men wandering over and trying to blatantly flirt with Crowley while Aziraphale huffed and puffed with indignation.

And now they were sitting in this godawful place and Aziraphale looked as if he'd just been made to eat someone's old gym socks instead of the 'asian-inspired' dish he'd forced down. Crowley's mocking words were not helping.

“It's not just that. You're doing a thing, I suspect. A worrying-and-trying-to-not-appear-worried thing. And from the looks of it, I'd say you're failing at it.”

“I just-” Aziraphale fiddled with his own handkerchief, pulled out after he'd given the napkin a second look and decided that eco-friendly should really include more thorough washing before re-using. “I just thought we should try some new things. You know. Instead of the same old thing.”

“Same old thing?”

“Oh, you know!” He sounded almost exasperated – and worried. “Always the same thing – the same Ritz, the same dishes, then my old place for a nightcap with the same wine, the same walks through the park with the same old ducks-”

“I'm pretty sure they're mostly new ducks. They don't live quite that long.”

“You know what I mean!”

“I don't. I really don't.”

Aziraphale sighed, and fiddled with his handkerchief some more, staring down at it, and Crowley's face softened. How could it not, considering Aziraphale's eyes were almost swimming?

“Angel.” His voice was just as soft, and before he could ask anything more, Aziraphale gave up.

“I'm just worried- it's become this thing, that we always do the same- that our meetings have gone on auto-pilot, so to speak” and both of them were silenced for a moment for the surprise of such modern phrasing coming from him, before he continued even quieter “I'm just worried you'll become bored with it.”

“Bored.”

“Yes, Crowley, bored! You're fast and fashionable and always with the newest electronics and styles and- and I'm not. I'm always the same. It must get boring for you at some point. The same mindless habits, again and again.”

“Oh, for the love of-” Crowley swept his hand through his hair. “That's what you're worried about? That I'll get bored with you? That's why we've had to go through all this awful food and music and- and annoying people everywhere?”

“I have to admit, I was hoping it would be nicer to try new things.” Aziraphale mumbled down towards his hands, still busy with the handkerchief.

“It can be, but that's not the point! The point is-” Crowley grabbed his hand and pulled Aziraphale out of his thoughts, and slightly towards him. “The point is.” He interlocked their fingers. “That I'm never going to get bored of any of that, okay? And you know why?”

Aziraphale shook his head.

“Because, yeah, alright, we've been doing this stuff for years now, true. Going to the Ritz, and to the park, and at your place. And for years, every time we did this, I was thinking- wouldn't it be great if we could do it without the hiding? Wouldn't it be amazing if I could do this with you and do more? Hold your hand, give you a kiss, sit on a bench without leaving room for Jesus or whatever fucking prick you'd worry about looking down on us?”

He didn't even wait for the scolding he was sure to receive on the blasphemous abuse of that poor young man's name before giving Aziraphale's hand a squeeze.

“So, you see. It might be the same old thing, but it's never the same, not anymore. And I'll never get bored of it. Alright?”

Aziraphale nodded, his eyes still swimming with tears, but his face now flushed a vibrant pink and a soft smile on his lips.

“Great. Then let's get out of here and get to the bloody Ritz so you can have some tea and petit fours.”

“And a kiss.” Aziraphale whispered, sheepishly, but grinning.

“Oh no. I'm not gonna wait until the Ritz for that.”

[nayladoodles]

Gently

Azirapahle and Crowley enter a new chapter of their relationship

Beatrica Sandz is my oc There are days when Crowley is reminded that the world not ending, the failed trials (thank you body swap) and their new freedom did not mean his relationship with Aziraphale will suddenly change to be what he’s always wanted it to be. The angel seems quite content with their friendship staying platonic even though the demon has been helplessly in love with him since Eden before he realized demons can love. As he sits across from his angel for their nightcap he thinks about how much he wants to kiss his plump lips. “I love him so much..”  Crowley thinks to himself getting lost in his angel’s grey-blue eyes that reminded him of the skies of Eden after the first rain. So focused on his reverence he failed to realize that Aziraphale has stopped talking his cheeks a ruddy pink. “So beautiful…” Crowley mumbles, making Aziraphale turn even darker pink, trying to process what exactly he heard the demon he’s known for 6000 plus years mumble under his breath looking lovestruck. The flustered angel waits to see if Crowley will mumble anything else and sure enough Crowley stares at him reverently his glasses slipping down his nose mumbling something about kissing him. 

“My dear,” Aziraphale squeaks his entire face and the tips of his ears burning, “Are you with me?” Crowley is still staring at him like he hung the moon, his own cheeks pink and yellow serpentine eyes dilated. ���My darling angel…” He sighs nearly spilling the red wine onto the beige tartan carpet. 

“Crowley!” Aziraphale yelps moving to steady the glass before wine spills over its lip. Crowley blinks looking very much like he just woke from a dream. 

“You say something angel?” He asks righting himself in the chair. 

“Crowley are you quite all right?” Aziraphale replies looking flustered. 

“I am why? Something wrong?” Crowley asks, sounding concerned. “Did I zone out on you?” 

“Well yes you seemed to be daydreaming or something of that sort. K-kept looking at me like I hung the m-moon dear boy.” Aziraphale stammers his blush darkening.  Crowley has the decency to look embarrassed, his own cheeks flushing. 

 “Sssorry angel,” He replies his sibilant breaking his speech. “Did I ssay anything weird?”

“That I’m beautiful.” Aziraphale replies looking away. 

“Well, you certainly are beautiful.” Crowley replies, smiling at his angel. 

“I’m soft!” Aziraphale squeaks looking upset. 

“There’s nothing wrong with soft.” Crowley sighs. 

“If you say so…” Azira replies looking put out. 

“Angel you’re gorgeousssss~” Crowley purrs. 

“Crowley please…” Azira begs looking close to tears. 

“I ssshould go…” Crowley huffs the wine tasting sour on his tongue because he nearly made his love cry. 

“You can stay Crowley.” Azira replies. 

“I’m gone.” Crowley simply teleports into his car leaving his glass and a very flustered angel behind in the backroom. He drives back to his flat feeling guilty for pushing too far. 

“Overdramatic demon…” Azira sighs picking up the glasses to wash them his head still spinning from Crowley’s earlier confessions. They don’t meet again until the next Friday, Crowley still being eaten by the guilt of hurting Aziraphale’s feelings with his teasing (but entirely genuine) compliment. Aziraphale calls him up for lunch and they go for sushi. Aziraphale barely touches his sashimi distracted by the love coming off Crowley in waves. He’s in love with me? Oh dear Satan I thought it was only me after the Blitz.  He thinks to himself poking at the sashimi. 

“You not hungry angel?” Crowley asks having eaten his nigiri already. 

“Just distracted I suppose.” Aziraphale replies, picking up a piece of sushi and eating it, relishing the flavors with a soft hum. The love is nearly suffocating as it settles on his shoulder making his ethereal essence wiggle happily. After lunch Crowley says he has to run an errand and water his plants after dropping Aziraphale back at his shop. 

Crowley disappears for almost two weeks during which Aziraphale finally processes that his demon is in love with him and he took 6000 bloody years to realize that. “I’m such an idiot!” He huffs sinking into his arm chair on Tuesday of the first week. He thinks back on every time Crowley saved him or took him out for food/theatre. Even their walks in St. James Park. “O-Oh you wiley serpent…” He sighs his entire face burning as he remembers it all. Even the times when Crowley acted against the plan God had to save innocents. Covering his red face with his hands Aziraphale lets the love he feels for Crowley settle into his entire being feeling like a weight lifted off his shoulders. “How lovely…” He murmurs softly as the love warms him. 

He receives a donation the next day leaving him to rearrange and sort the news books into his collection. By Thursday he has fully accepted his love for Crowley and the demon’s love for him happily puttering around his shop hoping his knight in shining black armor will come and swoop him off his feet for a meal out or a show. When Crowley did not appear on Friday or Saturday Aziraphale began to worry that he may have chased him off. By Wednesday the following week worry had settled onto Aziraphale’s shoulders like a wet blanket as he paced around the shop feeling stressed because Crowley would not answer his telephone or cellular phone. The next day Aziraphale decides to go over to check on Crowley at his flat unable to stand the thought that his love is upset or injured. He arrives at the door and knocks three times waiting a good five minutes before unlocking the door with the spare key. “Crowley?” He calls closing the door behind him. He sees that the plants are green as ever. The ferns reach out to him as he passes by. He runs his fingers over their leaves gently smiling when they rustle happily. He spots the bedroom door and sees that it’s ajar. He goes over knocking on the door so as not to startle Crowley if he’s asleep. He finds it empty and sits on the bed putting his head in his hands. He so desperately wants to see his beloved Crowley to apologize for all the years of pinning he put Crowley through. “You big oaf...what if he gave up?” A soft shiver runs through him at the thought and his eyes burn. Tears begin to fall before he can think to stop them as he sits on the King bed wishing for his demon to come back. He puts his head back into his hands, tears dripping through his fingers as he sobs softly not hearing the door to the flat open and close. 

Crowley walks into his flat with Beatrice at his side still chatting animatedly with her about the whole death trials thing that happened. 

“M’ telling ya it was genius what you two pulled! Body switch and bam you’re free birds.” Bea says pausing when she spots Aziraphale’s shoes. “These don’t seem like your type of shoes?” She said. 

Crowley looks at them, “They’re not mine...oh ssshit…” He hisses heading for the plant room with Bea on his heels. 

“Ya need ta scold them ferns again romeo?” Bea asks as he walks through seeing them rustle fearfully but the one gestures toward his room. Crowley heads toward his bedroom panic rising in him. “What’s goin on romeo?” Bea asks him as he strides down the corridor hurriedly. 

He gets to his room ignoring the only demon in all of hell he enjoys hanging with and pushes the door open seeing a figure on his bed shivering, “Angel?” 

Aziraphale’s head snaps up tears still rolling down his cheeks at the familiar voice and he nearly smiles until he spots Bea hovering at Crowley’s heels looking confused. He feels something in him snap and stands as Crowley crosses the room. “S-sorry to interrupt whatever it is you were doing...you didn’t answer my calls but I can see that y-you're busy…” Struggling to wipe his tears and not miracle himself out of the flat he turns to go 

“Angel no! It’s not what you think!” Crowley grabs his wrist looking upset himself.

“Let go of me Crowley. You’re c-clearly busy with your lady friend.” Azira struggles to escape. 

“He only tolerates me cause I don't want to kill ‘im if we’re bein’ honest right now.” Bea chimes in. “Perish the thought of ‘im actually liking me enough to want to cuddle and preen wings like he does with ya.” Both men blush at the mention of preening. "He only has eyes for ya as I've heard him wax on about plenty all these years." 

"I'm sssorry for vanishing on you angel." Crowley murmurs, relaxing his grip a little. 

Aziraphale slips his wrist free his entire face red. 

"You slept for a century once.." He utters embarrassed he assumed Bea was interested in his demon. "I shouldn't have assumed…" A tear escapes down his cheek and Crowley wipes it away. Aziraphale brings his hand up to cover Crowley's who watches his face reddening. Turning his head Aziraphale kisses the palm of Crowley's hand. 

"N-ngk." Crowley stammers his eyes wide as he falls even more in love with his angel who blushes darker as he feels his demon's love grow. Bea rolls her eyes glad these two finally figured it out. "Still too fassst angel?" Crowley asks his face red. 

"Oh hush." Aziraphale huffs pulling Crowley closer and resting their foreheads together. Crowley sighs softly basking in Aziraphale's warmth. Bea goes to make tea and coco so they can have their moment. When she finishes she calls to them to come get their drinks. The trio ends up on the couch. "So Beatrice is your only friend in hell?" Aziraphale asks. 

"Mm she isss the only one that enjoysss my dramatic bullshit." Crowley agrees. "She and I met about 100 years after Eden." His ears turn darker red "'bout the time she made me realize I'd fallen for you…" Aziraphale looks shocked. 

"Since Eden? Oh my dear how long I've made you wait out of fear." He sniffles. "It was the Blitz when I began to realize and was afraid for us both." Tears started rolling down his cheeks again. "You ran into a bloody church to save me and saved my books despite the ground hurting your feet." 

Crowley wipes his tears again, "Love is really bloody complicated but, I never regretted coming to your aid. I liked being your hero. Made me feel less like a demon. Wass nice." He nuzzles into Aziraphale's neck wrapping his love in a hug. "Our sidesss aside from Bea could go ssscrew themselvesss." 

Bea snorts amused, "They still can. Idiots the lot of 'em. No wonder ya two outsmarted them." 

Aziraphale snuggles into Crowley's embrace insecurity still plaguing him. He's glad they took a step forward after everything they've been through together the past 6000 years. 

"I can hear you thinking angel and no I won't grow bored of you. I love you too much to ever let you go." Crowley tells him waving his hand to make their drinks warm again. Aziraphale jumps when Crowley manifests his wings wrapping one around him, "We can ease into this new chapter of our relationship as gently as you need." 

Aziraphale smiles and leans over to kiss Crowley. His demon melts into the kiss with a happy sigh. When he pulls away Crowley looks lovestruck his face red as his fiery locks. 

"You can be such a bassstard sometimes…" Crowley hisses but he doesn't move his wing from around Aziraphale. Aziraphale smiles into his coco as he takes a sip. He leans on Crowley's shoulder enjoying the love coming off him in waves. It's going to take a long time to overcome his insecurities but for now a long overdue kiss and cuddles is everything he wants as they ease into their new relationship

Gently.