Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley & Maggie (Good Omens)
Characters: Crowley (Good Omens), Maggie (Good Omens)
Additional Tags: Based on a Will Wood Song, Angst, Songfic, Drunk Crowley (Good Omens), Post-Good Omens (TV) Season 2, The Author is Sleep Deprived, written at 2am, Oneshot
Summary:
Crowley and Maggie get drunk and listen to music
or: Crowley listens to a will wood song and it doesn't go very well
Other Notes: In which Dream pays Crowley a visit one night. 915 words!
It was a picturesque scene. In the garden of a small cottage, fragrant with fruit-tree flowers and bursting with the colors of their wilder cousins, Crowley and Aziraphale sat at a sturdy, weathered oak table; the kind of table that held as many stories as it had rings, and could bear up under as many plates of cake and dishes of pudding as one could load it with. They were laughing together, Aziraphale chucking behind his serviette so as not to spew crumbs, and Crowley guffawing at his own wit. His eyes were golden-brown and unshaded, and met the tinkling blue of Aziraphale’s without any worry that someone might interrupt them. The weather was perfect: warm and fine, with enough of a soft breeze to stir their many plants gently now and then. A ginger cat was curled up in a vacant chair at the table, but now it yawned, stretched, and leaped lightly into Crowley’s lap. He dropped his hand to stroke the cat, which made its biscuits against his leg as he watched Aziraphale select one from the plate in front of him, and sighed with content.
“Leave me alone, Dream.”
The Crowley standing outside the garden watching the pastoral events within unfold muttered darkly. Next to him, the tall, slight figure all cloaked in black, who had just silently appeared, looked at him mildly.
“This again, Crowley?”
“I said, leave. me. alone.” But Crowley was familiar enough with Morpheus’s silences to know that the Endless wouldn’t vanish just because he said so. He inhaled exasperatedly. “Yes, this again. What, are my dreams not creative enough for you? Not enough variety? Why don’t you go visit Muriel, I’m sure there’s plenty of nonsense there to entertain you.” The faintest of laugh-like sounds escaped Morpheus through his nose, and he shook his head.
“No. Muriel has no need to me tonight.”
“Oh, and I do?”
“Yes.”
Crowley turned away from Morpheus, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. His shoulders hunched of their own accord, and he bit the inside of his cheek hard. I don’t need you you stupid daydream idiot- was the beginning of the stream of profane thought that churned inside Crowley’s mind, but he kept it behind his lips. He did not want to rage. He did not want to fight. And Dream was not stupid. All he wanted was—
“What about this idea occupies you so, angel?”
Like a spooked animal, Crowley jerked around. His face impassive as ever, Morpheus was still watching the scene in the garden. The cat had gone to sleep, and another biscuit had disappeared from the plate.
“Don’t call me that,” Crowley snarled, his fists balling up inside their pockets, “I am not an angel.”
“You were when we met.”
“That was a long time ago, Dream. A lot’s happened since then.” For the first time, Morpheus turned his head to look at Crowley, and meet his eyes.
“I don’t think you ever stopped, really.”
Crowley glowered, but held his counterpart’s void-like gaze. The flickering lights within it reminded him of the stars. They stood like that for a long time, until at last Crowley asked,
“You know what happened to Aziraphale?”
It wasn’t really a question, but Morpheus nodded anyway. Crowley turned to look back at the garden, and its blissfully unaware occupants. It was shortly after Aziraphale had returned to Heaven that Morpheus had begun to appear in his dreams. Not every night, and not every dream, but despite the two beings having known each other since Morpheus had emerged in the Universe, he had never visited Crowley so often before. He was too subtle for it to be a coincidence.
“Well,” Crowley returned uncomfortably to Morpheus’s question, “when I think about what might’ve happened if he hadn’t— if it hadn’t all gone wrong— when I think about what could be, if he came back— …this is what I dream.”
Morpheus was silent again, and this time, it did provoke Crowley.
“Do you even know what this means?!” He burst out, gesturing wildly with an arm at the garden, the cottage, and the cat. The uninterrupted idyll was punctuated by another chorus of laughter from below, followed by the indistinguishable conversation of two voices. “’Course you do,” Crowley subsided, pushing his hands back into his pockets with a slump, “you’ve been around long enough.”
“I have.” Morpheus replied. “I understand.”
Crowley glanced sideways at his companion.
“Yeah, I s’pose you do.”
Silence stretched out again, as they watched the garden together. The wind stirred hair scarlet and black, birds sang, and now and then Morpheus brushed away a fuzzy bee that had become too interested in him. Neither paid any attention to the passage of time, but time did pass in the dream. The air took on a slight chill as the sun began to go down, and below in the garden a lamp was lit, bathing the table in its warmth and light. Glasses were raised, and the ting of glass on glass was unnaturally loud in the twilight. When Crowley spoke, his voice was cracked, and his question encompassed all the questions he yearned to ask, and contained all the multitudes of his joy, pain, and every defiant feeling he had ever felt in the existence he had shared with his lost angel.
“Why?”
Dream of the Endless raised one hand, and laid it on Crowley’s shoulder with the sort of firm, gentle kindness that requires no explanation, and answered.
#106 More of a March than a Saunter or a Fall - Good Omens Big Bang 2019
Title: More of a March than a Saunter or a Fall
Story by D20Owlbear and art by @takamei team #106
Full Art Post by Takamei
Word Count: 17,156
Archive Warnings: None that apply
Rating: T
Pairing(s): Gen/Implied AziCrow
Character(s): Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale (Good Omens), A Host of Supporting Characters, Adam Young (Good Omens), God (Good Omens)
Tags:
Crowley-centric, Pining, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), 10 Times Crowley Existed in the World Not Covered By The Series, Pre-Fall, The Fall - Freeform, Babylon, Epic of Gilgamesh - Freeform, Crowley is Mistaken for a minor Goddess at Least Once, China, Germany, France - Freeform, India, We're World Travelers Now, Demon's First Car, First Queen Concert, Desert of Time, Plane of The Sands of Time, Grains of Sand as a Metaphor, Trying to Explain the Metaphor Too Much, Whump, Crowley Whump, Hurt Crowley, the timeline is fucked, Too much research, Did you know you can find entire Queen Concert Setlists?, Aziraphale cameo, pine scented throughout the whole thing, Feelings Making Corporations Defective Since 4004 BCE (Good Omens), God ships it (Good Omens), Rated T for Difficult Feelings, And Tramua, Honestly Aziraphale isn't in this much, But Crowley thinks about him
Summary: For every grain of the Sands of Time there is a story, a moment or an eternity contained within it. Immortality, functional or otherwise, is an interesting sort of thing - gaining weights filled with this sand and never shedding it to age properly. But what happens when it falls from one, especially amongst the Desert of Time with its rolling dunes? For each of the sands that fall, like grains in an hourglass, another story and moment passes. Crowley-centric look through time, told in snapshots of times not covered in the show and book.
“And whatever happens . . . for good or for evil, we’re beside you.”
“I’m going to start time. You won’t have long to do whatever you’re going to do.” Crowley revved the tyre iron as if he were cranking an old car's motor with it, “And do it quickly!”
Sand whirled around three figures. Demon, Angel, and the Prince of Men. And suddenly it all fell away and they were back. In Tadfield, at the airbase, on a vast expanse of lifeless concrete that gave way to fire and brimstone as Satan clawed his way to the surface.
And Adam, the Young one, knew exactly what to do.
Crowley and Aziraphale believed in him so desperately that, even if Adam’s powers hadn’t been enough to shape this reality, he had the might of an agent of both Hell and Heaven at his fingertips.
crowley falls for the little things. he fell for the first time because he made a few friends who, yeah maybe they werent the nicest, but they liked him. he falls for humans when they compliment his hair. she falls for people who go out of their way to fall for her silly little tricks, the coin she glued to the pavement earlier that day or the salt she put in the sugar shaker at starbucks. they fall for the garden they create in their home, the way the plants always seem to be terrified when they get just a little close.
she falls for taking care of cain and abel, and then warlock, and later adam and his friends. they support her when she switches how she is and tend not to be harsh or assuming about it like adults tend to be. he falls for the way aziraphale watches him fondly as he strolls through tadfield looking for a place for the both of them, ready to will it into existence. he falls for the angel who was always just one step away from him.
he learns to fall for the way aziraphale is always to fearless about being gentle, the way his angel is carful to say “my sweetest” instead of “my dear boy” like he used to. they learn to fall for coming home and seeing books on galaxies and stars pile up on their coffee table. she learns to fall for having someone to complain to after a day of wearing heels just this side of too high and laughing about the lipstick she left smudged on her angel’s cheek. they fall for him a little more every day.
crowley started falling at the very beginning of time and never wants to stop.
A few months prior to leaving the Dowling household, Crowley had downloaded Grindr for the sole purpose of catfishing randy morons. He was not expecting a paragraph that began with: ‘hello. I hope you don’t think this is too forward, but I couldn’t help but notice you have the most lovely nipples.’
Crowley keeps trying to meet his Grindr fuckbuddy. Aziraphale keeps showing up at all his meeting spots. This is terrible.
