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fandomweekly2023-09-10 11:48 pm
mxcatmoon) wrote in fandomweekly2023-09-10 11:48 pm
Entry tags:
[#191] Earth Only Knows (Good Omens TV)
Theme Prompt: #191 - Freedom
Title: Earth Only Knows
Fandom: Good Omens
Rating/Warnings: PG-13. No spoilers for S2
Bonus: No
Word Count: 911
Summary: Aziraphale isn't as naïve as others think he is, and certain possibilities have crossed his mind. He keeps his love locked inside - out of love.
Notes: Just one interpretation. Takes place at the end of season one – the events of S2 haven't happened yet.
Aziraphale's favorite time of day was the nights, when everyone was asleep, and the city was at rest. He would sit quietly and read a favorite book, sometimes with a cup of tea or a glass of sherry. He was quite fond of a hot toddy in the wintertime. Even if Crowley did like to tease him about his old-fashioned tastes. This night was a bit different from the usual, however.
He glanced over to the sofa where Crowley was sprawled, sound asleep. He'd conked out mid-sentence without having even sobered up first. Aziraphale had covered him with a blanket and left him to his rest.
They were in uncharted territory now that they had a reprieve from heaven and hell for the first time in 6,000 years. He was still trying to parse his feelings about that, what it meant for them, and where they were going. It was odd, having freedom of choice after centuries of toeing the company line and worrying about losing everything he'd come to love.
He watched Crowley sleeping with an odd kind of fascination that he didn't wish to examine closely. Aziraphale wasn't naïve, although being underestimated could be useful, so he didn't disabuse anyone of the notion (not even Crowley). Sometimes, yes, sometimes he chose to believe it himself. It was easier than admitting certain things…
Crowley liked the Earth well enough to enjoy some of its pleasures, especially alcohol. He cared, to a point, but sometimes it seemed he could take or leave it, like how enthusiastic he'd been about running away to Alpha Centauri. It was a strange thing. The demon didn't go in for many earthly delights, save for drinking, which he took to like a fish to water, and sleeping, of which he was inordinately fond.
Aziraphale, on the other hand… One of the first human things he'd learned (although it hadn't even been invented yet) was lying. That was probably prophetic, but the less said there, the better. Other more pleasant activities followed: eating a delicious meal, drinking fine wine, listening to a wonderful orchestra, and reading all the glorious books the humans created. In the vernacular of humans, he'd gone native. He'd been only too eager to sample all the earthly delights… except for one.
There was one he hadn't tried, but watching Crowley sleep, he allowed himself a moment of honesty and admitted he'd been curious. More than that. If Crowley showed any inclination, he'd say yes.
Aziraphale sighed, admitting that he knew no such thing. This was the one line he'd never dared to cross. It felt like the final temptation and terrified him, not just because of what heaven and hell might do. If their lips touched just once, he feared he might shatter into a million pieces on the spot. In one instant, everything would change forever, nothing would ever be the same, and God help him, he couldn't reach for it no matter how much he wanted…
He wanted.
Aziraphale knew how Crowley felt about him (see above, not naïve). He was created to feel love, after all. Over the centuries, the demon had habitually shown up whenever the angel needed him, his personal demonic guardian angel in black. He was the one who used the term 'friend' liberally, unlike Aziraphale, who experienced a moment of shame remembering how often he denied it. The one who made it clear he wanted them to be on their side. Aziraphale didn't know if Crowley had ever thought about the true nature of their feelings for each other, ever considered a human type of intimacy, but he did know one thing.
If they ever took that final step together, neither of them would be able to play the game anymore. There would be no hiding or subterfuge. What they had together would be too big to contain; it would spill over like an unstoppable force of nature, and they would be found out. And Crowley, his beautiful, fierce demon, would foolishly take on the powers of heaven and hell to protect him. And it would destroy them both. Fraternizing was bad enough; an angel and a demon in love would never be tolerated. The fragile peace they'd earned recently would vanish.
Just as Crowley would do anything to protect him, he could do no less in return. Even if it meant denying his heart.
Aziraphale started guiltily when Crowley groaned suddenly and opened his serpent eyes. He looked away, forcing himself to avoid getting lost in them.
"Sorry I zonked out on you," Crowley murmured, sitting up and dislodging the blanket.
"That's quite all right; you obviously needed the rest." His words felt unnatural and stilted as they came out. A pale substitute for the words locked away.
"You oughta try it sometime," Crowley suggested, stretching out his long limbs in opposite directions.
Aziraphale looked away again, ignoring the pang in the vicinity of his heart as Crowley rose from the couch. He refused to name it disappointment.
"Well, I'd best be getting home," Crowley announced, then hesitated.
Aziraphale held his breath.
Crowley gave a smooth half bow, somehow cutting quite the dashing picture even – or especially – sleep-ruffled. "Thanks for the wine, and company," he said, winking at his friend before the sunglasses came down over his eyes.
Aziraphale stared after him like a besotted fool. The bookshop was instantly emptier, but a flicker of hope returned inside him to banish his previous fatalism. Perhaps someday, they would win the freedom they needed, from heaven and from hell.
Earth only knew.
THE END
Title: Earth Only Knows
Fandom: Good Omens
Rating/Warnings: PG-13. No spoilers for S2
Bonus: No
Word Count: 911
Summary: Aziraphale isn't as naïve as others think he is, and certain possibilities have crossed his mind. He keeps his love locked inside - out of love.
Notes: Just one interpretation. Takes place at the end of season one – the events of S2 haven't happened yet.
Aziraphale's favorite time of day was the nights, when everyone was asleep, and the city was at rest. He would sit quietly and read a favorite book, sometimes with a cup of tea or a glass of sherry. He was quite fond of a hot toddy in the wintertime. Even if Crowley did like to tease him about his old-fashioned tastes. This night was a bit different from the usual, however.
He glanced over to the sofa where Crowley was sprawled, sound asleep. He'd conked out mid-sentence without having even sobered up first. Aziraphale had covered him with a blanket and left him to his rest.
They were in uncharted territory now that they had a reprieve from heaven and hell for the first time in 6,000 years. He was still trying to parse his feelings about that, what it meant for them, and where they were going. It was odd, having freedom of choice after centuries of toeing the company line and worrying about losing everything he'd come to love.
He watched Crowley sleeping with an odd kind of fascination that he didn't wish to examine closely. Aziraphale wasn't naïve, although being underestimated could be useful, so he didn't disabuse anyone of the notion (not even Crowley). Sometimes, yes, sometimes he chose to believe it himself. It was easier than admitting certain things…
Crowley liked the Earth well enough to enjoy some of its pleasures, especially alcohol. He cared, to a point, but sometimes it seemed he could take or leave it, like how enthusiastic he'd been about running away to Alpha Centauri. It was a strange thing. The demon didn't go in for many earthly delights, save for drinking, which he took to like a fish to water, and sleeping, of which he was inordinately fond.
Aziraphale, on the other hand… One of the first human things he'd learned (although it hadn't even been invented yet) was lying. That was probably prophetic, but the less said there, the better. Other more pleasant activities followed: eating a delicious meal, drinking fine wine, listening to a wonderful orchestra, and reading all the glorious books the humans created. In the vernacular of humans, he'd gone native. He'd been only too eager to sample all the earthly delights… except for one.
There was one he hadn't tried, but watching Crowley sleep, he allowed himself a moment of honesty and admitted he'd been curious. More than that. If Crowley showed any inclination, he'd say yes.
Aziraphale sighed, admitting that he knew no such thing. This was the one line he'd never dared to cross. It felt like the final temptation and terrified him, not just because of what heaven and hell might do. If their lips touched just once, he feared he might shatter into a million pieces on the spot. In one instant, everything would change forever, nothing would ever be the same, and God help him, he couldn't reach for it no matter how much he wanted…
He wanted.
Aziraphale knew how Crowley felt about him (see above, not naïve). He was created to feel love, after all. Over the centuries, the demon had habitually shown up whenever the angel needed him, his personal demonic guardian angel in black. He was the one who used the term 'friend' liberally, unlike Aziraphale, who experienced a moment of shame remembering how often he denied it. The one who made it clear he wanted them to be on their side. Aziraphale didn't know if Crowley had ever thought about the true nature of their feelings for each other, ever considered a human type of intimacy, but he did know one thing.
If they ever took that final step together, neither of them would be able to play the game anymore. There would be no hiding or subterfuge. What they had together would be too big to contain; it would spill over like an unstoppable force of nature, and they would be found out. And Crowley, his beautiful, fierce demon, would foolishly take on the powers of heaven and hell to protect him. And it would destroy them both. Fraternizing was bad enough; an angel and a demon in love would never be tolerated. The fragile peace they'd earned recently would vanish.
Just as Crowley would do anything to protect him, he could do no less in return. Even if it meant denying his heart.
Aziraphale started guiltily when Crowley groaned suddenly and opened his serpent eyes. He looked away, forcing himself to avoid getting lost in them.
"Sorry I zonked out on you," Crowley murmured, sitting up and dislodging the blanket.
"That's quite all right; you obviously needed the rest." His words felt unnatural and stilted as they came out. A pale substitute for the words locked away.
"You oughta try it sometime," Crowley suggested, stretching out his long limbs in opposite directions.
Aziraphale looked away again, ignoring the pang in the vicinity of his heart as Crowley rose from the couch. He refused to name it disappointment.
"Well, I'd best be getting home," Crowley announced, then hesitated.
Aziraphale held his breath.
Crowley gave a smooth half bow, somehow cutting quite the dashing picture even – or especially – sleep-ruffled. "Thanks for the wine, and company," he said, winking at his friend before the sunglasses came down over his eyes.
Aziraphale stared after him like a besotted fool. The bookshop was instantly emptier, but a flicker of hope returned inside him to banish his previous fatalism. Perhaps someday, they would win the freedom they needed, from heaven and from hell.
Earth only knew.
THE END
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Not sure you'll be missing much with no Doctor Who.
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