"Crowley, I'm not sure that riding a dragon is what I would call a 'low-profile' rendezvous... Won't you get in trouble if someone sees you?"
"Nah - my lot never pay attention, Angel, you know that. Anyway how bloody else d'you expect us to nip over to Highgarden in a single afternoon just for champagne poached pear crepes?"
"...well ...I suppose if it's for crepes..."
the good omens x hotd crossover nobody asked for 🤭
open for better quality, plus lore notes & a close-up below the cut!
despite my animosity toward the ending of the show i did indulge in a game of thrones rewatch recently before catching up with house of the dragon...
Aziraphale is probably a targaryen who became a maester to escape politics... and Crowley is a bastard son of some extinct valyrian house, who flies his dragon to the citadel frequently to steal Aziraphale away for flirty little dates 🩷
dragon!bentley is supposed to be a noodly-necked, serpentine dragon kinda like caraxes - only smaller and just a big ol' softie of course
Crowley claims to have seen the rise and fall of the mythical Prophetess Cassandra. Big Fish, I think. Cassandra was no more than a Trojan princess. A princess blamed for the tragedies that fell during her lifetime, perhaps — which I can, unfortunately, at least somewhat relate to — but hardly a prophetess. She only...
//I’ve been working on this little bit for some time now//
There was something about this angel that made Crowley feel better than he’d felt in Heaven. The angel, ironically, made him feel safe, he couldn’t help but roll his eyes at that.
There was just something about this angel that made him feel safe, protected, cared for, loved even. There was something different about this angel and Crolwey wished he knew why. He almost allowed himself to wonder if this was how the angel felt as well, but it wasn’t like he could just ask.
So in reply to the angle’s rambling, he just stared up at him and listened,he soaked up every word this angel had to say, all the while wondering why he was so enamored by him.
Then the questions like the weeds they were popped into his head, questions, always so many questions.
Summary: Aziraphale isn’t what Crowley expected.
Words: 1231
Notes: This is my spin on a role-reversal AU (inspired by this gorgeous art from @dotstronaut).
It’s my first time writing in a very long time, so the anxiety is strong.
Big Thanks (HUGE) to @mia-ugly for being an excellent and supportive beta reader.
Title is taken from Make Me Smile (Come Up and See Me) by Steve Harley & The Cockney Rebel. A song I’m convinced is on Crowley’s playlist.
Continued here
(read on ao3)
Crowley found the culprit on the eastern gate, sitting hunched over, with his knees hugged to his chest. He was watching the exiled humans with an expression of regret clouding his face. His wings were slumped off his shoulders, grey feathers spread askew on the ground. The dejected countenance sparked curiosity in Crowley. He moved to sit down next to the demon, dangling his legs off the edge of the wall and carefully spreading his wings out behind them.
“Well, that went down like a lead balloon,” Crowley said amiably.
The demon startled.
“I’m sorry?”
(His eyes were owlish, bright yellow - almost gold, really, Crowley thought - with jet-black pupils. Captivating.)
“I said, that went down like a lead balloon.”
“Oh,” the demon looked back at the humans, wincing, “yes, it did rather.”
“Still, I guess it’s a victory for your side eh? Quite cunning of you…” he trailed off.
“Aziraphale.” the demon supplied, still very much preoccupied with watching after the humans.
“Right, Aziraphale…” That name’s a mouthful. “ You must have been planning it for ages,” he drawled, “whispering in her ear, and laying the foundation to lead her astray…” he paused, leaving room for a response. When none was forthcoming he continued, “You must be very proud of yourself”.
If Crowley sounded more inquisitive than disapproving, it was only because the demon was acting so strangely. He looked miserable and shame-faced - which was good, wasn’t it? He should feel ashamed - Crowely had liked the humans, and now, well, God only knows what would happen to them.
It was just- well- weren’t demons meant to revel in their evil deeds?
He said as much to his companion who pursed his lips and glanced fleetingly at Crowley, seemingly unsure as to whether he was being mocked.
“I er- didn’t know it was forbidden” he mumbled.
“You what?!”
“I didn’t know it was forbidden!” he cried out, anguished. “It’s not like your lot keeps us in the loop about these things. I was told ‘Get Up There And Make Some Trouble’ but she was so kind, and curious, and she was struggling to reach the brightest one, and- oh- it looked harmless enough, so I grabbed it for her.” He fidgeted with the fabric of his robes. “You would think they would put a sign up if it were that terrible.”
Crowley stared. The creature in front of him was unlike any demon he’d ever heard of. The fallen were supposed to be wicked and foul fiends - but this one was something else. He looked so genuinely distressed by what had happened - More distressed than Gabriel or Michael by a long shot - that Crowley couldn’t help but believe him. As ridiculous as it was, Crowley felt an urge to comfort him. He cleared his throat.
“If I’m honest… I can’t see what’s so bad about knowing the difference between good and evil, anyway. I know it must be bad for them to be kicked out like that…”
“Obviously,” the demon said morosely.
“… but it must also be part of The Great Plan, and that, well, it’s ineffable isn’t it?”
Aziraphale blinked.
“Ineffable?”
“That’s right, and you can’t go around second guessing ineffability,” he said with a grin, feeling like he had finally landed on a convincing argument.
The demon smiled wistfully. “No, you definitely can’t do that.” There was a sadness to his tone that made Crowley feel like an utter fool. What a thing to say.
He was about to apologize when he was interrupted by a loud roar in the distance - beside him Aziraphale flinched violently. “Oh, I wish they had something to protect themselves, there’s vicious animals about and it’s going to be so cold out there.”
Crowley gazed up at the brewing storm clouds, and then down at the lion approaching the couple. He had to concede the demon had a point.
He flexed his hand and felt the comforting weight of his sword. With a thought he ignited it.
Aziraphale gave him a nervous look, and shifted away slightly. Crowley rolled his eyes.
“Oh for heaven’s sake. I’m hardly going to smite you in the middle of a conversation. I just- ” he clicked his fingers in a sweeping, downwards motion. The sword disappeared from his hand, and reappeared in Adam’s. The mortal looked surprised (as one might reasonably be if you were to find a useful object in your hands when you least expected it) but wasted no time in dispatching the beast.
Aziraphale stared at Crowley, mouth agape.
“Are you quite sure you’re allowed to just give that away?”
Not at all, Crowley thought. He shrugged. “Too late to worry about it now.”
Aziraphale gave him a slightly impressed, slightly baffled look.
“I suppose, as an angel, you can’t technically do the wrong thing.” he sounded uncertain.
Crowley smirked back at him, leaning across to nudge him with his shoulder.
“Be funny if we both got it wrong, eh? If I did the bad thing, and you did the good one?”
Aziraphale’s lips twitched, but then he grimaced.
“A demon can get in an awful lot of trouble for doing the right thing.”
Crowley clucked his tongue in agreement, an unexpected pang of worry hitting him. He suspected Aziraphale was not a particularly good demon, and the thought of him getting into trouble was surprisingly upsetting.
Without further warning, the clouds that had been looming ominously overhead delivered a downpour. Crowley pulled a face, bristling slightly as the first cold drops hit him. Next to him Aziraphale shuffled closer, shaking his head a little to jostle water-logged black and grey curls off his forehead. With an upwards gesture and a click of his fingers, the two of them were dry and the rain directly above their heads decided it had better places to fall. He gave Crowley a timid, dimpled smile. Crowley smiled back.
Together they watched the humans into the night, making wry observations as they experimented with cooking their first meal (the demon had whooped adorably when Eve - frustrated - had snatched the sword from Adam and used it to sear the meat, “Clever thing, isn’t she?” he had beamed proudly).
Once the humans fell asleep, an awkward silence descended between the two of them.
“I should probably be off.“ Aziraphale commented, without making any sign of moving. "Will you remain assigned here, do you think?” Crowley smiled.
“I should think so, most of the other angels consider this-” (he waved a hand to indicate the garden, earth, humanity) “- beneath them.” Aziraphale nodded.
“It’s the same with downstairs. They’re thrilled to bits about the plethora of opportunities to torture humans, but being up here is considered a bit gauche.” He shrugged. “After I take credit for this mess I’d be surprised if they bothered to recall me.”
“So I guess I’ll be seeing you around then?” Crowley tried to affect a nonchalant tone but - judging from the sidelong look he was receiving (and the very soft, hopeful smile accompanying it) - he hadn’t been very successful.
“I should think so, my dear.”
Crowley found himself hard-pressed not to grin.
It wasn’t because he was glad the demon would be sticking around - he wasn’t - or that he was grateful this new fledged camaraderie might remain - he didn’t need it - it was just that Crowley hated being bored . If nothing else, the next few millennia would certainly be interesting.
