Z. A. Dusk (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
luminouswater) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fandomweekly2019-10-13 02:40 am
luminouswater) wrote in fandomweekly2019-10-13 02:40 am
Entry tags:
[#027] Find You (Good Omens)
Theme Prompt: #027, Double Trouble
Title: Find You
Fandom: Good Omens
Rating/Warnings: G, talk of war in heaven and injuries, but nothing graphic
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 970
Summary: AU where Aziraphale is there when Crowley falls (though it's before he changed his name, hence calling him Crawly in this one.)
Black feathers trembled against white as Aziraphale enfolded the demon in his wings. A storm roared around them, though they both knew the ear-splitting cracks weren’t thunder and lightning, but the sound of angel against rebel angel as the war raged. The demon shoved at the angel.
“Go! If they catch you down here with me, we’re both finished.”
Aziraphale bit his lip, gazing worriedly at his friend, at the trails of blood still leaking from the roots of his newly-blackened wings, and the way his eyes, once the purple and blue of swirling nebulas, had turned sun-seared yellow. Gentle hands ran softly over sore wing roots, and blue eyes, full of empathy and pain, gazed into scorched ones.
“Get out of here, Angel!” he hissed. “I can lay low here for a bit. I’ll find you.”
The last thing Aziraphale saw as he eased the heavy grey stone door closed was his friend curled on his side, his eyes blazing with hurt, confusion, and fury, the faintest glow from Aziraphale’s angelic energy shimmering over the surface of his wings, like stars against a black night sky.
The arrangement worked well at first. The fallen were too busy adjusting to lives of grime, rage, revenge and pain, to notice that one of their own slipped away every month or so. Upstairs were too busy scheming to notice one single principality vanishing here and there..
Their first few meetings had been silent. Aziraphale had sat on the damp stone floor with his friend’s head in his lap, slowly stroking ember-red hair, occasionally murmuring words of comfort that were quickly rebuffed with a sharp hiss. As the years passed, Crawly had patchworked himself back together, turning his bright curiosity into schemes against his new overlords, transmuting his sharp intelligence into an attitude that screamed heaven could shove its policies where no light shone. He stopped letting himself be comforted, with the ferocity of someone learning to walk again, determined to cast aside all support as fast as possible.
Now they had a new dynamic, sparring a little, always trying to out-reason the other. Aziraphale sighed. The serpent would never agree to the plan. It was going to be a long night (even if, truthfully, their swiftly stolen meetings were never long enough.)
“It’s too risky, Angel.”
“Oh please. When has that ever stopped you? Taking risks got you where you are.”
“If you call asking questions risky.”
Aziraphale stared at Crawly, who simply stared back with his snake-like eyes, giving the appearance of cosmic insouciance. Only someone watching him very closely would have noticed the way his yellow irises expanded until there were no whites left in his eyes.
“I call questioning the Almighty rather risky, yes.”
The demon looked the angel up and down, stepping closer and circling him slowly. Aziraphale shifted his weight slightly, tugging self-consciously at his robes.
“Honestly Crawly, must you circle me like that? I know you’re a snake incarnate now, but really.”
Crawly swallowed the urge to tell the angel it was more like he was the sun and the demon was in orbit around him.
“No one will ever know.”
“Thought I was supposed to be the one tempting you?”
Aziraphale seized the demon’s hand.
“Crawly, please! They’re … they’re sending me to earth, to Eden. If we don’t have a way to find one another we might not … I don’t know when we’ll …”
The threat of countless years without each other hung in the sudden silence between them. Crawly remembered the pain of falling and considered that this would be worse. A memory came to him unbidden, of his friend risking everything to try and protect him during his fall, coming to him straight after and trying to heal him, holding him as his whole body changed from angel to demon.
Aziraphale was watching him with that open, sincere look that made Crawly think he was far too good for heaven.
“Alright, Angel. Tell me again how this works.”
Aziraphale shook his head, getting that stubborn look that those who underestimated him so often missed.
“If we keep talking, you’ll try to change my mind again and you mustn’t, Crawly. I’m … I know this is wrong. I know I shouldn’t be talking to you, but I … we cannot be separated this way. It’s not …”
“Ineffable?”
Crawly managed with a half-laugh. Aziraphale didn’t dignify the weak attempt at humour with a response. Instead, he slid one hand over his wing, quickly plucking a feather and giving it to Crawly.
“Someone could see. Or sense it.”
He said doubtfully as he started weaving it into his own wing, choosing a spot close to his body where it was easier to hide it among his black feathers.
“I know, dear boy. But something tells me we’re going to need a little piece of each other if we’re to find each other again.”
Crawly said nothing. How could he tell the truth? That defying heaven and hell gave him a thrill. That the risky part was admitting there was still something in the universe he was capable of loving.
But words like that, well, those kind of words didn’t come out of his mouth. So he said nothing, simply plucked a feather dark as a midwinter night, and handed it to the angel.
“Be careful with that.”
He groused. Neither of them needed to say it out loud. They both knew he wasn’t talking about the feather.
“Don’t worry dear.”
Aziraphale said quietly, as he wove it into his own wing, like black ink scrawled on white parchment.
“I’ll guard it as if it were my own.”
Title: Find You
Fandom: Good Omens
Rating/Warnings: G, talk of war in heaven and injuries, but nothing graphic
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 970
Summary: AU where Aziraphale is there when Crowley falls (though it's before he changed his name, hence calling him Crawly in this one.)
Black feathers trembled against white as Aziraphale enfolded the demon in his wings. A storm roared around them, though they both knew the ear-splitting cracks weren’t thunder and lightning, but the sound of angel against rebel angel as the war raged. The demon shoved at the angel.
“Go! If they catch you down here with me, we’re both finished.”
Aziraphale bit his lip, gazing worriedly at his friend, at the trails of blood still leaking from the roots of his newly-blackened wings, and the way his eyes, once the purple and blue of swirling nebulas, had turned sun-seared yellow. Gentle hands ran softly over sore wing roots, and blue eyes, full of empathy and pain, gazed into scorched ones.
“Get out of here, Angel!” he hissed. “I can lay low here for a bit. I’ll find you.”
The last thing Aziraphale saw as he eased the heavy grey stone door closed was his friend curled on his side, his eyes blazing with hurt, confusion, and fury, the faintest glow from Aziraphale’s angelic energy shimmering over the surface of his wings, like stars against a black night sky.
The arrangement worked well at first. The fallen were too busy adjusting to lives of grime, rage, revenge and pain, to notice that one of their own slipped away every month or so. Upstairs were too busy scheming to notice one single principality vanishing here and there..
Their first few meetings had been silent. Aziraphale had sat on the damp stone floor with his friend’s head in his lap, slowly stroking ember-red hair, occasionally murmuring words of comfort that were quickly rebuffed with a sharp hiss. As the years passed, Crawly had patchworked himself back together, turning his bright curiosity into schemes against his new overlords, transmuting his sharp intelligence into an attitude that screamed heaven could shove its policies where no light shone. He stopped letting himself be comforted, with the ferocity of someone learning to walk again, determined to cast aside all support as fast as possible.
Now they had a new dynamic, sparring a little, always trying to out-reason the other. Aziraphale sighed. The serpent would never agree to the plan. It was going to be a long night (even if, truthfully, their swiftly stolen meetings were never long enough.)
“It’s too risky, Angel.”
“Oh please. When has that ever stopped you? Taking risks got you where you are.”
“If you call asking questions risky.”
Aziraphale stared at Crawly, who simply stared back with his snake-like eyes, giving the appearance of cosmic insouciance. Only someone watching him very closely would have noticed the way his yellow irises expanded until there were no whites left in his eyes.
“I call questioning the Almighty rather risky, yes.”
The demon looked the angel up and down, stepping closer and circling him slowly. Aziraphale shifted his weight slightly, tugging self-consciously at his robes.
“Honestly Crawly, must you circle me like that? I know you’re a snake incarnate now, but really.”
Crawly swallowed the urge to tell the angel it was more like he was the sun and the demon was in orbit around him.
“No one will ever know.”
“Thought I was supposed to be the one tempting you?”
Aziraphale seized the demon’s hand.
“Crawly, please! They’re … they’re sending me to earth, to Eden. If we don’t have a way to find one another we might not … I don’t know when we’ll …”
The threat of countless years without each other hung in the sudden silence between them. Crawly remembered the pain of falling and considered that this would be worse. A memory came to him unbidden, of his friend risking everything to try and protect him during his fall, coming to him straight after and trying to heal him, holding him as his whole body changed from angel to demon.
Aziraphale was watching him with that open, sincere look that made Crawly think he was far too good for heaven.
“Alright, Angel. Tell me again how this works.”
Aziraphale shook his head, getting that stubborn look that those who underestimated him so often missed.
“If we keep talking, you’ll try to change my mind again and you mustn’t, Crawly. I’m … I know this is wrong. I know I shouldn’t be talking to you, but I … we cannot be separated this way. It’s not …”
“Ineffable?”
Crawly managed with a half-laugh. Aziraphale didn’t dignify the weak attempt at humour with a response. Instead, he slid one hand over his wing, quickly plucking a feather and giving it to Crawly.
“Someone could see. Or sense it.”
He said doubtfully as he started weaving it into his own wing, choosing a spot close to his body where it was easier to hide it among his black feathers.
“I know, dear boy. But something tells me we’re going to need a little piece of each other if we’re to find each other again.”
Crawly said nothing. How could he tell the truth? That defying heaven and hell gave him a thrill. That the risky part was admitting there was still something in the universe he was capable of loving.
But words like that, well, those kind of words didn’t come out of his mouth. So he said nothing, simply plucked a feather dark as a midwinter night, and handed it to the angel.
“Be careful with that.”
He groused. Neither of them needed to say it out loud. They both knew he wasn’t talking about the feather.
“Don’t worry dear.”
Aziraphale said quietly, as he wove it into his own wing, like black ink scrawled on white parchment.
“I’ll guard it as if it were my own.”
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject