Good Omens ficlet
Jul. 11th, 2004 12:12 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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copperbadge's last icon post, the following icons in particular.
Aziraphael pulled uncomfortably at the collar around his neck with one finger, frowning faintly, the slight smell of dust and old incense catching in the back of his throat and making him struggle not to cough.
“Is this really necessary?” he asked, a plaintive note in his voice.
“Stop complaining, angel. Where’s your sense of adventure? Wait. Don’t answer that.”
“I’ll have you know,” he answered stiffly, “that I have just as much of a sense of adventure as the next angel.” Crowley snorted, and muttered something that might have been “precisely my point.” He glared at the demon. “I don’t see why we can’t stick to tradition. Shining white raiment, and all that. For that matter, I don’t see why you have to be involved at all. Shouldn’t you be off… tempting or something?” Crowley scowled at him.
“Got to keep you on your toes. Don’t want to let the side down when it really counts now, do you?”
The angel sighed. “Oh, very well.” He smoothed down his cassock self-consciously. “You’re looking particularly dapper, I must say.” Crowley smirked and brushed at non-existent specks of dust on the sleeve of his jacket. “What, exactly, are you supposed to be?”
“A lawyer, obviously,” the demon answered off-handedly, and Aziraphael winced reflexively. “Satan’s little helpers- entirely soulless, the majority of them- they’d take a mobile phone on a vision quest.”
Aziraphael concentrated, and manifested his wings, unable to prevent the habitual wince at the noise of tearing cloth from the back of his outfit. He waited for a second. “Well?”
Crowley looked at him disingenuously. “Well what?”
“Well, where are your wings?”
The demon waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, I’m fine. I’ll go in without. Makes sense for you to have the greater authority, in any case- he’s on your list, after all.” As the angel turned to face the vestry door, he heard Crowley mutter “’sides, I like this suit.”
* * *
The angel stormed out of the church, tearing at the velcro fastening of his robe furiously. He wavered for a second, unsure precisely where he was storming to- after all, they’d arrived in Crowley’s Bentley. He rather wished he’d thought to bring a bus timetable.
“Angel…”
He spun on his heel and pointed a shaking finger at Crowley, who looked mildly startled and leaned back to avoid it. “You… lying serpent!”
“Well… yes.” Crowley’s tone was matter of fact. “What did you expect?”
“Not the visions of sexual gratification, that’s for certain. You didn’t play fair.”
Crowley blew out an exasperated breath. “And again, what were you expecting? I’m evil. Ergo, you can’t trust me. It’s not like you didn’t sway him in the end, anyway.”
Aziraphael deflated a bit, letting his hand drop back to his side. “I suppose you’re right.” He allowed a slightly smug smile to cross his face. “It was rather good, wasn’t it?”
Crowley grinned. “Some of it,” he conceded.
“Some of it? It was a masterpiece of persuasive argument.”
“It had some good points. But I could have had him if I’d been trying.”
“Piffle!”
Crowley snorted a laugh. “Watch your language, there, angel. Wouldn’t want to get in trouble with the man upstairs now, would we?”
Aziraphael shrugged the cassock off and reached around to unsnap the priests’ collar he was wearing. “Oh you’re just trying to get me riled up, now,” he said placidly, then stopped as Crowley took a step closer and grabbed his arm, halting his movement.
“Why would I do sssomething like that?” he asked quietly, and the heat in his voice made Aziraphael swallow hard and flush pink.
“Oh.”
“And leave the collar on, angel. It sssuitss you.”
copperbadge's last icon post, the following icons in particular.Aziraphael pulled uncomfortably at the collar around his neck with one finger, frowning faintly, the slight smell of dust and old incense catching in the back of his throat and making him struggle not to cough.
“Is this really necessary?” he asked, a plaintive note in his voice.
“Stop complaining, angel. Where’s your sense of adventure? Wait. Don’t answer that.”
“I’ll have you know,” he answered stiffly, “that I have just as much of a sense of adventure as the next angel.” Crowley snorted, and muttered something that might have been “precisely my point.” He glared at the demon. “I don’t see why we can’t stick to tradition. Shining white raiment, and all that. For that matter, I don’t see why you have to be involved at all. Shouldn’t you be off… tempting or something?” Crowley scowled at him.
“Got to keep you on your toes. Don’t want to let the side down when it really counts now, do you?”
The angel sighed. “Oh, very well.” He smoothed down his cassock self-consciously. “You’re looking particularly dapper, I must say.” Crowley smirked and brushed at non-existent specks of dust on the sleeve of his jacket. “What, exactly, are you supposed to be?”
“A lawyer, obviously,” the demon answered off-handedly, and Aziraphael winced reflexively. “Satan’s little helpers- entirely soulless, the majority of them- they’d take a mobile phone on a vision quest.”
Aziraphael concentrated, and manifested his wings, unable to prevent the habitual wince at the noise of tearing cloth from the back of his outfit. He waited for a second. “Well?”
Crowley looked at him disingenuously. “Well what?”
“Well, where are your wings?”
The demon waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, I’m fine. I’ll go in without. Makes sense for you to have the greater authority, in any case- he’s on your list, after all.” As the angel turned to face the vestry door, he heard Crowley mutter “’sides, I like this suit.”
* * *
The angel stormed out of the church, tearing at the velcro fastening of his robe furiously. He wavered for a second, unsure precisely where he was storming to- after all, they’d arrived in Crowley’s Bentley. He rather wished he’d thought to bring a bus timetable.
“Angel…”
He spun on his heel and pointed a shaking finger at Crowley, who looked mildly startled and leaned back to avoid it. “You… lying serpent!”
“Well… yes.” Crowley’s tone was matter of fact. “What did you expect?”
“Not the visions of sexual gratification, that’s for certain. You didn’t play fair.”
Crowley blew out an exasperated breath. “And again, what were you expecting? I’m evil. Ergo, you can’t trust me. It’s not like you didn’t sway him in the end, anyway.”
Aziraphael deflated a bit, letting his hand drop back to his side. “I suppose you’re right.” He allowed a slightly smug smile to cross his face. “It was rather good, wasn’t it?”
Crowley grinned. “Some of it,” he conceded.
“Some of it? It was a masterpiece of persuasive argument.”
“It had some good points. But I could have had him if I’d been trying.”
“Piffle!”
Crowley snorted a laugh. “Watch your language, there, angel. Wouldn’t want to get in trouble with the man upstairs now, would we?”
Aziraphael shrugged the cassock off and reached around to unsnap the priests’ collar he was wearing. “Oh you’re just trying to get me riled up, now,” he said placidly, then stopped as Crowley took a step closer and grabbed his arm, halting his movement.
“Why would I do sssomething like that?” he asked quietly, and the heat in his voice made Aziraphael swallow hard and flush pink.
“Oh.”
“And leave the collar on, angel. It sssuitss you.”
