All the Good Omens drabbles I can find
May. 6th, 2005 05:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nnyIf you happen to know where I've written other drabbles (in your journals, for instance) and if it's no trouble to link 'em, I'd be terribly grateful.
And I suppose if you have any drabble bunnies you can leave them in the comments, since I'm currently unoccupied...
Monday: Crowley/Aziraphale
A sense of ennui had been plaguing him all day. There was nothing he could settle to. He started out for a drive in his (good as new? Good as old?) Bentley, but when he’d passed the same familiar shop the third time in an hour he drove home, blessing himself. It must be because they’d spent so much time together lately. That must be it. Nothing untoward. He got back into his Bentley, and drove across London. The door opened, and a sweet smile crossed Aziraphale’s face.
“Can I tempt you to a spot of lunch?” asked the angel.
*
Fallen: Islington/Crowley, Crowley/Aziraphale
He touched the surface of the water with gentle fingers, and ripples spread out to the edges of the pool, distorting the reflections of the candle flames. He concentrated.
A room appeared, a bed, two forms entwined… the contrast of dark and light was so beautiful in this most exquisite of sacrileges. He watched the reflection of a place far away, and sighed. Even his expression of anger and jealousy was beautiful- he was, after all, an angel.
“Crowley,” he murmured, “I followed you down. Why didn’t you wait for me?”
As he left, the candles extinguished themselves behind him.
*
Crowley in a kilt: Crowley/Aziraphale
Crowley looked in the mirror, somewhat dubious. He looked good, obviously- he always looked good. It was one of the advantages of being intrinsically evil. This, though...
"I still say it's a skirt." He folded his arms, mutinously, and turned to face the angel. "I don't see why I have to..." his voice trailed off as he got a look at the angel's face, at the wide eyes and pink cheeks, at the way he licked his lips and swallowed hard. The demon smirked.
"Oh my, Crowley." The angel ran a finger across the material, his voice reverent. "Tartan..."
*
Hallowe'en Snippet: Crowley/Aziraphale
"Hand me up the medium sized one, would you my dear?"
Crowley paused, glittery pumpkin in hand. "Is this actually allowed?"
Aziraphael looked down at him, hair dishevelled, a huge smile on his face.
"I'm sorry, is what allowed?"
The demon gestured expansively. "This! All of this." He picked up a fluffy bat, bouncing it on its elastic and then glaring at it until it quailed, its dying squeak trailing pathetically away. "Surely you're not supposed to be glorifying this kind of thing?"
Aziraphael climbed down the step ladder, finally stepping onto the floor entirely too close to Crowley and holding up a finger. "Aah, on the contrary my dear fellow. I inspired much of the commercialism of this holiday; it's taken far less seriously than it was, while All Saints' Day remains unchanged. A point for me, I believe."
The demon glared at him. "It's all so... tacky."
He laughed. "Of course. Now you have some conception of how I feel at Christmas."
*
Sparkly: Crowley/Aziraphale
"...Waterloo, couldn't escape if I wanted to,
Waterloo, knowing the train's here at quarter to..."
He whirled around and pointed a shaking finger at the angel.
"Sing that one more time and the bookshop's up in flames. I mean it." Aziraphael widened his eyes slightly, attempting to look hurt, but he couldn't quite conceal the tilt to his lips.
"Now now, Crowley, there's no need to be grumpy with me. It was your idea to take the Underground, you know."
"Yes, well, I wanted a change. I did not want "Mama Mia" to let out just as we got to the bloody station."
"Mama mia.." said the angel, thoughtfully.
"And you're all sparkly from where that girl kissed you." If he'd hoped to provoke a blush, however, he was thwarted. Aziraphael just frowned slightly, looking distant.
"...mama mia..."
Crowley stepped closer, traced a thumb across Aziraphael's cheekbone, where the traces of the girl's glitter lipstick still remained. The angel looked at him, eyes wide, dawning realisation on his face.
"...mama mia let me go! Of course, that's where I've heard it before. Beelzebub has a devil put aside for yoooooou..."
*
Hallowe'en drabble Crowley/Aziraphale
There was a pumpkin hanging directly above the door, and the angel was entirely too distracted to point out that tradition called for mistletoe at this juncture. Besides, his mouth was occupied.
Crowley's lips were... his mouth... coffee-flavoured, bitter and... entirely unlike what he was used to. It had never occurred to him quite how boring the things he was used to were. The demon’s hand was tentative against his back as he tilted his head slightly… and yes, that made far more sense, there were noses to be considered, after…
Oh….
Crowley could do marvellous things with his tongue.
*
Silly drunk angel
Aziraphael frowned, and leaned forward.
"Aaaah, but but but. Pyramid bags."
Crowley squinted at him. "Pyramid bags?"
"Yes! Incontravertibubble truth. Egyptians drank tea."
The demon just looked at him for a second.
"I know what you're thing. Thinking. Pyramids inspired the bags but OH NO. Tea bags were NEVER INVENTED!"
"...what?"
"Think about it. Always brought back from the future by black market tea traders. Obviously."
He sat back, satisfied. Obviously an unanswerable argument, since Crowley was still gaping at him. He was clearly a debating genius.
*
Dog's POV
Dog was bored. He wandered away from the Them's attempts at scaling the Great Wall of China in order to steal the Treasure (actually Mrs McKenzie's garden wall and the apple tree she refused to allow them access to, but that was beside the point), and along the dirt track. Something smelled odd. Metal and warm rubber, he recognised that, but there was something on top of that, something familiar.
He stared at the Bentley, parked by the side of the road, the steamed up windows opaque from his point of view. He sniffed, cautiously, around the door, then backed away hurriedly. An angel? Hell hound he may have been, but he had some shame.
*
Aziraphael/Crowley, fishnet vests
Crowley stormed around his flat while Aziraphael sat quite still on the sofa, only moving his feet out of the way occasionally.
“Where the hell is it?”
“If you’d tell me what you’re looking for I might be able to help, my dear,” the angel murmured.
“My bloody fishnet bloody top, dammit!”
Aziraphael stared at him for a moment. And went pink.
“Um?”
Crowley halted, and stared at the angel as he started to unbutton his pale blue shirt. And then his eyes widened. And his mouth was suddenly, inexplicably, dry.
“I’m afraid I thought it was a string vest…”
*
Crowley/Aziraphale smut
The day after, Aziraphael couldn’t look at his abraded palms without blushing.
Crowley’s eyes were suddenly all he could see, and somehow he didn’t think it was down to the alcohol. He nodded, dry mouthed, as the demon leaned closer- Crowley didn’t even have to say anything any more, and he was almost certain he should be more concerned about that.
They didn’t make it back to the shop. They rarely did. It was all he could do to ensure there were no watchers.
The day after, Crowley trailed his hand along a rough brick wall, and licked his lips.
*
Crowley/Aziraphale, bony
Crowley had insisted on wearing the tricorn around the shop all day. Aziraphael, who hadn’t quite managed to abide by his resolution to leave the trick-or-treat chocolate alone, stickily questioned him.
“’tis the season, after all.”
The angel glared at him. “That would be Christmas, my dear.”
Crowley grinned. “Maybe where you’re from.”
The light faded, and the demon still showed no inclination to leave. Instead, he watched the setting sun with something like anxiety on his face as Aziraphael lit the pumpkins. As the last rays faded, he turned to Aziraphael, eyes panicked.
“What is it?”
Even as he spoke, moonlight fell on the demon. Flesh faded, clothes and flesh hanging ragged on his bones.
Aziraphael squeaked.
Crowley looked at his fingers, speculatively.
“Interesting. Veeeeeery interesting.”
Aziraphael, after throwing a bowl of chocolate at him, decreed that in future they’d watch far more civilised fare. A beautiful mind, perhaps.
*
Girl!Crowley/Boy!Aziraphale
“You’ll catch flies like that.”
Aziraphael blushed and closed his mouth, promptly opening it again.
“Tempting?”
Crowley smiled slowly and raised an eyebrow. “You think so?”
He sputtered. “You know that wasn’t what… I meant were you… oh bugger it.”
Crowley laughed, low in her throat. She snaked her way across the shop, and it was interesting how much redder the angel appeared at her approach. She stood too close to him as he attempted to avoid eye contact with her cleavage. “Not in this form, angel.”
Aziraphael was still trying to scrub off the red lipstick as she left.
*
Hark the Herald
Crowley winced as the curtains were flung open, dust motes dancing in the sunlight in a far too cheerful manner. He rubbed his eyes and attempted to stretch, hampered by the fact that Aziraphael's sofa was a foot too short for him.
"Hark the herald angels sing, the kitchen's clean, and so's the bin," Crowley sat up and glared at the angel over the back of the sofa. "...peace on earth and mercy mild, now I'm going to read some Wil..Oof! Was that really necessary?" Crowley brandished the other cushion threateningly, and Aziraphael fell silent, a half-smile on his face.
*
Holiday
"We were ON A BREAK!"
The angel carefully said nothing, methodically sorting the stones that would skip from the ones that wouldn't.
"It didn't mean anything! It was a… I don't know, a holiday from us." Crowley's voice was almost desperate, pleading with him. "It doesn't change who I am."
Aziraphale watched the sea, judging the size of the waves and weighing a pebble thoughtfully in his hand, blue eyes unreadable.
"Angel…"
"It's alright, Crowley." The smile that had been threatening for some time turned into a snigger. "I promise not to tell anyone you saved that girl from drowning."
And I suppose if you have any drabble bunnies you can leave them in the comments, since I'm currently unoccupied...
Monday: Crowley/Aziraphale
A sense of ennui had been plaguing him all day. There was nothing he could settle to. He started out for a drive in his (good as new? Good as old?) Bentley, but when he’d passed the same familiar shop the third time in an hour he drove home, blessing himself. It must be because they’d spent so much time together lately. That must be it. Nothing untoward. He got back into his Bentley, and drove across London. The door opened, and a sweet smile crossed Aziraphale’s face.
“Can I tempt you to a spot of lunch?” asked the angel.
*
Fallen: Islington/Crowley, Crowley/Aziraphale
He touched the surface of the water with gentle fingers, and ripples spread out to the edges of the pool, distorting the reflections of the candle flames. He concentrated.
A room appeared, a bed, two forms entwined… the contrast of dark and light was so beautiful in this most exquisite of sacrileges. He watched the reflection of a place far away, and sighed. Even his expression of anger and jealousy was beautiful- he was, after all, an angel.
“Crowley,” he murmured, “I followed you down. Why didn’t you wait for me?”
As he left, the candles extinguished themselves behind him.
*
Crowley in a kilt: Crowley/Aziraphale
Crowley looked in the mirror, somewhat dubious. He looked good, obviously- he always looked good. It was one of the advantages of being intrinsically evil. This, though...
"I still say it's a skirt." He folded his arms, mutinously, and turned to face the angel. "I don't see why I have to..." his voice trailed off as he got a look at the angel's face, at the wide eyes and pink cheeks, at the way he licked his lips and swallowed hard. The demon smirked.
"Oh my, Crowley." The angel ran a finger across the material, his voice reverent. "Tartan..."
*
Hallowe'en Snippet: Crowley/Aziraphale
"Hand me up the medium sized one, would you my dear?"
Crowley paused, glittery pumpkin in hand. "Is this actually allowed?"
Aziraphael looked down at him, hair dishevelled, a huge smile on his face.
"I'm sorry, is what allowed?"
The demon gestured expansively. "This! All of this." He picked up a fluffy bat, bouncing it on its elastic and then glaring at it until it quailed, its dying squeak trailing pathetically away. "Surely you're not supposed to be glorifying this kind of thing?"
Aziraphael climbed down the step ladder, finally stepping onto the floor entirely too close to Crowley and holding up a finger. "Aah, on the contrary my dear fellow. I inspired much of the commercialism of this holiday; it's taken far less seriously than it was, while All Saints' Day remains unchanged. A point for me, I believe."
The demon glared at him. "It's all so... tacky."
He laughed. "Of course. Now you have some conception of how I feel at Christmas."
*
Sparkly: Crowley/Aziraphale
"...Waterloo, couldn't escape if I wanted to,
Waterloo, knowing the train's here at quarter to..."
He whirled around and pointed a shaking finger at the angel.
"Sing that one more time and the bookshop's up in flames. I mean it." Aziraphael widened his eyes slightly, attempting to look hurt, but he couldn't quite conceal the tilt to his lips.
"Now now, Crowley, there's no need to be grumpy with me. It was your idea to take the Underground, you know."
"Yes, well, I wanted a change. I did not want "Mama Mia" to let out just as we got to the bloody station."
"Mama mia.." said the angel, thoughtfully.
"And you're all sparkly from where that girl kissed you." If he'd hoped to provoke a blush, however, he was thwarted. Aziraphael just frowned slightly, looking distant.
"...mama mia..."
Crowley stepped closer, traced a thumb across Aziraphael's cheekbone, where the traces of the girl's glitter lipstick still remained. The angel looked at him, eyes wide, dawning realisation on his face.
"...mama mia let me go! Of course, that's where I've heard it before. Beelzebub has a devil put aside for yoooooou..."
*
Hallowe'en drabble Crowley/Aziraphale
There was a pumpkin hanging directly above the door, and the angel was entirely too distracted to point out that tradition called for mistletoe at this juncture. Besides, his mouth was occupied.
Crowley's lips were... his mouth... coffee-flavoured, bitter and... entirely unlike what he was used to. It had never occurred to him quite how boring the things he was used to were. The demon’s hand was tentative against his back as he tilted his head slightly… and yes, that made far more sense, there were noses to be considered, after…
Oh….
Crowley could do marvellous things with his tongue.
*
Silly drunk angel
Aziraphael frowned, and leaned forward.
"Aaaah, but but but. Pyramid bags."
Crowley squinted at him. "Pyramid bags?"
"Yes! Incontravertibubble truth. Egyptians drank tea."
The demon just looked at him for a second.
"I know what you're thing. Thinking. Pyramids inspired the bags but OH NO. Tea bags were NEVER INVENTED!"
"...what?"
"Think about it. Always brought back from the future by black market tea traders. Obviously."
He sat back, satisfied. Obviously an unanswerable argument, since Crowley was still gaping at him. He was clearly a debating genius.
*
Dog's POV
Dog was bored. He wandered away from the Them's attempts at scaling the Great Wall of China in order to steal the Treasure (actually Mrs McKenzie's garden wall and the apple tree she refused to allow them access to, but that was beside the point), and along the dirt track. Something smelled odd. Metal and warm rubber, he recognised that, but there was something on top of that, something familiar.
He stared at the Bentley, parked by the side of the road, the steamed up windows opaque from his point of view. He sniffed, cautiously, around the door, then backed away hurriedly. An angel? Hell hound he may have been, but he had some shame.
*
Aziraphael/Crowley, fishnet vests
Crowley stormed around his flat while Aziraphael sat quite still on the sofa, only moving his feet out of the way occasionally.
“Where the hell is it?”
“If you’d tell me what you’re looking for I might be able to help, my dear,” the angel murmured.
“My bloody fishnet bloody top, dammit!”
Aziraphael stared at him for a moment. And went pink.
“Um?”
Crowley halted, and stared at the angel as he started to unbutton his pale blue shirt. And then his eyes widened. And his mouth was suddenly, inexplicably, dry.
“I’m afraid I thought it was a string vest…”
*
Crowley/Aziraphale smut
The day after, Aziraphael couldn’t look at his abraded palms without blushing.
Crowley’s eyes were suddenly all he could see, and somehow he didn’t think it was down to the alcohol. He nodded, dry mouthed, as the demon leaned closer- Crowley didn’t even have to say anything any more, and he was almost certain he should be more concerned about that.
They didn’t make it back to the shop. They rarely did. It was all he could do to ensure there were no watchers.
The day after, Crowley trailed his hand along a rough brick wall, and licked his lips.
*
Crowley/Aziraphale, bony
Crowley had insisted on wearing the tricorn around the shop all day. Aziraphael, who hadn’t quite managed to abide by his resolution to leave the trick-or-treat chocolate alone, stickily questioned him.
“’tis the season, after all.”
The angel glared at him. “That would be Christmas, my dear.”
Crowley grinned. “Maybe where you’re from.”
The light faded, and the demon still showed no inclination to leave. Instead, he watched the setting sun with something like anxiety on his face as Aziraphael lit the pumpkins. As the last rays faded, he turned to Aziraphael, eyes panicked.
“What is it?”
Even as he spoke, moonlight fell on the demon. Flesh faded, clothes and flesh hanging ragged on his bones.
Aziraphael squeaked.
Crowley looked at his fingers, speculatively.
“Interesting. Veeeeeery interesting.”
Aziraphael, after throwing a bowl of chocolate at him, decreed that in future they’d watch far more civilised fare. A beautiful mind, perhaps.
*
Girl!Crowley/Boy!Aziraphale
“You’ll catch flies like that.”
Aziraphael blushed and closed his mouth, promptly opening it again.
“Tempting?”
Crowley smiled slowly and raised an eyebrow. “You think so?”
He sputtered. “You know that wasn’t what… I meant were you… oh bugger it.”
Crowley laughed, low in her throat. She snaked her way across the shop, and it was interesting how much redder the angel appeared at her approach. She stood too close to him as he attempted to avoid eye contact with her cleavage. “Not in this form, angel.”
Aziraphael was still trying to scrub off the red lipstick as she left.
*
Hark the Herald
Crowley winced as the curtains were flung open, dust motes dancing in the sunlight in a far too cheerful manner. He rubbed his eyes and attempted to stretch, hampered by the fact that Aziraphael's sofa was a foot too short for him.
"Hark the herald angels sing, the kitchen's clean, and so's the bin," Crowley sat up and glared at the angel over the back of the sofa. "...peace on earth and mercy mild, now I'm going to read some Wil..Oof! Was that really necessary?" Crowley brandished the other cushion threateningly, and Aziraphael fell silent, a half-smile on his face.
*
Holiday
"We were ON A BREAK!"
The angel carefully said nothing, methodically sorting the stones that would skip from the ones that wouldn't.
"It didn't mean anything! It was a… I don't know, a holiday from us." Crowley's voice was almost desperate, pleading with him. "It doesn't change who I am."
Aziraphale watched the sea, judging the size of the waves and weighing a pebble thoughtfully in his hand, blue eyes unreadable.
"Angel…"
"It's alright, Crowley." The smile that had been threatening for some time turned into a snigger. "I promise not to tell anyone you saved that girl from drowning."
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2005-05-06 09:42 am (UTC)And to me, drabbles are anything less than 500 words. I'd get maimed for that by some people, but buggerit, if yaoi really means hardcore gay porn and people use it as a term for PG slashy fics, then I can abuse drabble!
no subject
Date: 2005-05-06 09:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-05-06 12:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-05-06 12:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-05-06 01:43 pm (UTC)So very, very cute.
:)
no subject
Date: 2005-05-06 02:20 pm (UTC)You are officially my favorite person today.
no subject
Date: 2005-05-06 02:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-05-06 05:30 pm (UTC)Islington/Crowley!!
I love you
no subject
Date: 2005-05-06 07:57 pm (UTC)And it doesn't strike me odd in the least bit that tartan on a demon's bum would be hot.
Very nice.
no subject
Date: 2005-05-06 10:54 pm (UTC)Mmm...tartan. :)
no subject
Date: 2005-05-07 01:52 pm (UTC)Also, that Islington/Crowley drabble is disturbing. In a good way. Makes me want to see more. *eyes bunnies warily*
no subject
Date: 2005-05-07 04:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-05-07 04:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-05-07 08:10 pm (UTC)"...mama mia let me go! Of course, that's where I've heard it before. Beelzebub has a devil put aside for yoooooou..."- had me laughing my ass off. Poor Crowley, from one damnably catchy song to another....
You do realize I will now have to draw Crowley slapping his forehead as Aziraphale remembers the line, right? Ebil writer-types...
no subject
Date: 2005-05-10 10:17 am (UTC)I needed something to make me happy today. Thank you so much!
no subject
Date: 2005-05-10 10:18 am (UTC)