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Language:
English
Series:
Part 8 of When an Angel and a Demon Get Silly
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Published:
2020-03-26
Words:
1,408
Chapters:
1/1
Comments:
54
Kudos:
211
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15
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1,515

Generic Good Omens Fanfic

Summary:

From an idea on the Ineffable Husbands group on FB. What else is there to Good Omens fanfic, really?

Can be found at Drunk Storytime with Quefish

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

Crowley was in his customary sprawl, taking up as much space with his lanky frame as possible on the sofa in the back room of the bookshop. He was fidgety because he’d been yelling at his plants that morning about how dam-bles- freaking beautiful Aziraphale had been on the garden wall, adorable and just … he’d blinked for the first time in his existence that day, and somehow kept doing it. He heard the angel coming around the corner and quickly adjusted his sunglasses.

The steam curled over Aziraphale’s angel wing mug, the cocoa’s sweet smell permeating the area. He looked over at his companion, lamenting that he couldn’t see his lovely eyes, hiding behind the sunglasses. He loved looking at them, and spared yet another thought damning the trend the demon had picked up in Rome.

“What were you saying, my dear boy? Something about boredom?” Aziraphale sat in his chair, sipping at his drink, giving a happy little wiggle to settle deeper into his seat.

“I mean, don’t you feel it? We do the same thing, over and over and over and over … We are here, chatting or drinking, or drinking and chatting. We go to the Ritz, we feed the ducks. What else do we do?” He allowed his gaze to rest on Aziraphale, hoping his glasses were dark enough that the angel couldn’t tell how focused he was on him.

“It does feel like that on occasion. But we did take a drive out to the country a few times, don’t forget.”

“Yeah, for Armageddon, angel. Doesn’t count. That was for work.”

Aziraphale conceded the point with a nod, sipping again. His mind wandered to the lovely strawberry cake he’d had at the diner the evening they’d gone to the convent. He hummed in happy memory before coming back to the moment.

“Well, have you any better ideas?”

“Nope.” Aziraphale frowned at the popped ‘p’. He was trying to help and the demon seemed so dismissive despite it being his own complaint.

“Not one single better idea? I find that difficult to believe. You always have a plan when you complain.”

“Well, I don’t this time. I just feel like we’re pawns in someone’s boring story.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. The Almighty’s story is hardly boring, and we do have a measure of free will after all, not simply pawns.” The angel gave a slightly smug smile.

“Not Them, don’t think They’re paying attention anymore. I mean … Look, I don’t know what I mean, but I mean it.”

Aziraphale nodded, not understanding the demon at all. “Crowley, have you been drinking already, my dear boy? It’s a bit early for that, especially without sharing.”

Crowley made an inarticulate growling sound of exasperation. “No. Haven’t been since last time I was here. Seems to be the only time I drink is when I’m here.”

“Why? I know you have a perfectly well stocked cabinet at your flat, I saw it when I came by before … well, you know.” He dropped his voice to a stage whisper. “Before the trials.”

“Come on, angel, think of something before I go mad and show up somewhere wearing inappropriate clothing pretending I’m hungry.” Crowley rolled his head to the side, hanging it off the edge of the couch to look at Aziraphale longingly from a different angle.

“I was, you self-centered demon. Had nothing to do with you.”

“Oh, yeah, yup, sure. You think I didn’t catch that disappointed pause when I dropped the shackles off you?” Crowley flopped to his side, better able to hide his growing erection, remembering how lovely Aziraphale had looked. Bless it all.

The angel tried to tell himself he wasn’t blushing, but he knew it was a lie. He had been disappointed. Crowley didn’t seem to think it was sexy at all, or even mildly attractive. “I was upset at the puff of dust that came up when they hit the ground. Those shoes were the height of fashion, made by the best cobbler in France.”

“All’s I’m saying is you needn’t have gone to all the trouble. Could have just sent me a message that you were lonely.” Not that I could have handled it if you did.

Aziraphale looked at Crowley, lying there like he was posing for a Renaissance painter and made a decision. He got up and took his mug back to his small kitchenette and snapped.

A heavy card, in perfect calligraphy, landed on the sofa in front of Crowley’s face.

Mr Anthony J. Crowley, Serpent of Eden.
A.Z. Fell’s Bookshop Sofa
Soho, London

Crowley’s eyebrows raised over his glasses. What on Earth was going on? He opened the envelope, the wax seal looked like wings curled up around the ring. He pulled out a card on equally heavy stationary.

Mr Anthony J. Crowley, Serpent of Eden.
Principality Aziraphale, Guardian of the Eastern Gate Cordially Invites you to
Enjoy Vigorous Intimate Relations.

Located at
Wherever We Damn Well End Up.

The Event Begins
Whenever You Decide to Finally Make a Move.

The Event Will End
When I am FINALLY SATISFIED.

Please RSVP via
Showing Me a Hard Cock.

Additional Details:
 I am reading the Kama Sutra at the till..
I expect to not get past the Introduction before you present yourself.

PS
You wanted different, here’s your chance.

Crowley’s brain went offline as it tried to do too many things at once. His eyes attempted to pop out of his head, his legs pinwheeled trying to propel off the couch, his arms and hands were just flapping in confusion over either helping himself off the couch or opening his belt buckle, and his cock was doing it’s level best to work his zipper by itself. And on top of it all, Crowley tried desperately how to remember how to do the sex thing that he was apparently about to enjoy. He’d read about it and watched it a few times, that should be enough to be able to do the sex thing, right?

Aziraphale smirked over the edge of his book. That mirror had been an excellent investment to see over the entire shop from his perch at the till. He watched the interpretive dance going on in his back room and was at least relieved that his offer wasn’t being outright rejected. He called out, “Only one more page, dear boy. If you aren’t interested, just tell me so I can get dressed, come back and sit down to read instead.”

There was a crash as Crowley’s body finally began moving and he came around the corner, his shirt half on, glasses gone, and trousers and pants around his ankles, cock practically singing in its freedom. “We … you … can … err … SEX? Time now sex?!”

Aziraphale chuckled and opened his arms, encouraging Crowley to shuffle to him. “Quite right, my dear. Time now sex.” Crowley tripped over his feet and landed in the angel’s arm. The angel’s other hand caught him considerably lower and gave a gentle squeeze. He took pity on the demon and finally brought their lips together. “Time now a great deal of sex, if you’d be so kind?”

Crowley nodded, gaping, luststruck, as Aziraphale grinned salaciously. “Excellent! I’d rather hoped you’d be amenable.”

One month later

“I mean, don’t you feel it, angel? … again? We still do the same thing, over and over and over and over … We are here, chatting or drinking, or drinking and chatting. We go to the Ritz, we feed the ducks. We have sex, everywhere. I’m still not sure how we ended up on the roof on the Bentley, but I’ve never been so relieved she can drive herself … do kinda wish she’d slowed down, we almost fell off a few times as she sped around London. But seriously, what else do we do?”

Aziraphale sighed because he saw Crowley’s point. But seriously, at their age, what else was there to do? “I suppose we will have to make do with what activities are already in our repertoire, my dear boy. We are doomed to bored repetition, I suppose.”

Crowley gave a sad whine before perking up. “Hey, what about sex behind my plants?”

“Darling, don’t you think we’ve traumatized them enough when we had a romp in front of them?”

“No.” Crowley leapt up, surprised to find Aziraphale already waiting at the door with a small smirk, coat on, ready to leave.

“After you, my dear!”

Notes:

I hope everyone gets a moderately sized chuckle out of this :)

Please let me know if this hits all the necessary checkboxes to be considered Good Omens fanfic hehehehe