I've got it under control!

liz666 gave me this for the icon meme and heeee, so much fun. So I post here instead of responding to her comment like a normal person. XD




"You insulted the uniform, Ray."

Ray vaults over a chair and darts around the desk, keeping it between him and Fraser. The Mountie's got a light in his eyes that makes him look almost evil and Ray's laughing hard enough he almost trips over Dief, who gives an insulted whine and hides under the desk.

"No no no," he manages eventually, "no I didn't, I swear."

"You insulted the uniform, Ray." And okay, so the edge of his mouth is twitching up like he's going to laugh any second, but Fraser's a big guy and Ray's not gonna stop running until he's definitely laughing, for sure, and maybe not even then. For a Mountie, Fraser can be pretty damned sneaky.

"Not so much an insult," he makes a break from behind the desk, diving past Dewey and ducking behind Frannie, holding onto her upper arms and using her as a human shield. "Not an insult, more a - " he raises his voice a little, trying to drown out Frannie's outraged squawking. He lets go one of her arms so he can defend himself from the file she's trying to beat him to death with. "More of a - whaddayacallit. Enhancement."

"Enhancement."

Fraser's advancing across the bullpen like the slow march of death or something, and Ray lets go of Frannie and races for the door. He makes it out into the hallway, close enough to freedom he can smell it, and then a hand grabs the back of his jacket and pulls him backwards, almost pulling him over, tugging him into the supply closet. He collapses back against the shelves, still snorting helplessly, and Fraser reaches up to tug the light on.

"Enhancement," he says again, like he can't quite believe it, and Ray grins.

"Word of the day calendar, Fraser buddy."

"This - " and he reaches around behind himself, grabs hold of the offending article, tugs it into view. "This is an enhancement."

Ray regards the orange and black striped tail and swallows another bray of laughter, biting his lip and attempting to frown thoughtfully.

"I think it suits you."

Fraser stares at him for a second or two like he's nuts which, fair point, and then shakes his head slowly. His 'what the hell am I gonna do with you' look, except Fraser'd never say hell, not even in his head.

"Plus," Ray says, straightening up a little so where he was slumped against shelves now he's leaning, leaning with intent, "it gave me an excuse to stare at your ass."

"...you're incorrigible."

"Nah," says Ray, as he rests his hands on Fraser's hips, pulls him closer, "not until the 17th."

For darthrami. No reason.

Fraser/Kowalski, PG-13

( Notches )

A sequel, of sorts, to Bound.

Aziraphael/Crowley (implied), PG.

Written for copinggoggles, who requested something with silk - also most grateful to her for beta duties.

( Tied )

This is for copinggoggles, but I'd really appreciate hearing how much of it people get. I won't put it up on lower_tadfield until I know that it's not entirely opaque.


( Revolutions )

The bits in italics are from Good Omens. I don't own the books, I don't own the characters, I make no money, you know how this works.


Inertia


Where one of the figures had been, there was something dreadful. He blacked out.



Strangely, it was the angel Crowley thought of first.

The exasperated look on his face when Crowley, just to be annoying, had tempted a customer into buying a book, and nothing the angel could say would dissuade her.

"I liked that one," he'd muttered, annoyed, as she made her way out of the shop. Crowley'd smirked at him, and the memory was so vivid he could almost feel his lips curving, and that was a start.

He remembered Paris, 1793. They'd been celebrating something, or commiserating over something, or possibly it'd been nothing but an excuse to meet up and have a particularly mediocre meal and some particularly good wine. He couldn't quite remember what they'd talked about, which was probably a good indication of the quality of the alcohol, but he remembered the weight of the angel's head on his shoulder. He remembered the arm he'd snaked around Aziraphale to keep him upright, keep him moving. He remembered the hand he'd shoved into a jacket pocket to find the key to Aziraphale's flat, and the angel's giggle at the look of disgust on his face when he'd got stuck to a fluffy sweet lying in wait.

Progress.

The angel's hand. It wasn't so much remembering, as being unable to forget. The angel's hand placed innocently on his leg as he pointed at something out the window of the Bentley, and the semi-hysterical thought that wasn't supposed to happen and demons have excellent control, it comes with the territory, so Aziraphale'd not noticed anything. But that hadn't stopped him putting his foot down, making the angel clutch the dashboard and send him a reproving glance, making the angel move his hand, making it possible for him to pretend nothing had happened, only he couldn't.

The memories built up, and coalesced, and with a mental twist he was back as he had been.



Crowley restored himself to his favourite shape.

'I hate having to do that,' he murmured. 'I'm always afraid I'll forget how to change back.'

A christmas present I promised a long time ago. It's not very good, and I strongly reccomend you read the original because fahye is a genius and an artist.

Anyway. Um. Here it is, finally, a Christmas present for tahira_saki. I hope you like.

( Lucifer/Skazz. From Andre's perspective. )

For 15minuteficlets: Good Omens, PG, Brian/Wensleydale-ish

( And the word is... )

What's that you say? Two stories in one day?

My God Man! No one can *live* at that speed!

This is unbeta'd, and also pretty short. But hey. I'm writing... :)

( Candles. Rated R. Vetinari/Vetinari. )