#plenty of time

[themadmorrigan]

Ok. We've packed. We're en route to the airport. The kid has done their last two assignments before we left and, fingers crossed, has scraped by this trimester. I am a teensy bit baked. I finished Paladin's Hope.

I think I can calm down now. But what should I work on whilst on the plane?

Options:

Sic Semper Tyrannis 👑

The Singer Addresses His Audience 🦇

The Harrowed and the Haunted 🔥

The Cauldron 🍲

Voting ended onFeb 16

[cupidford]

Plenty of Time by ourboysat221b

Johnlock Love Letters #2366

John is stuck in the rain after a long day at the clinic. Short, fluffy one-shot. Established relationship

[weshallc]

We Certainly Shall

[perequiste]

no rush.

[bigproblemsfunnylife]

PLENTY OF TIME

ᴘᴏꜱᴛ-ᴀʀᴍᴀɢᴇᴅᴅɪᴅɴ’ᴛ, ʟᴏɴᴅᴏɴ, ᴀ ᴛᴜᴇꜱᴅᴀʏ ᴇᴠᴇɴɪɴɢ.

The rain hadn’t quite started yet, but the sky was heavy with it. Clouds hung low over Soho like an overcoat shrugged too far down the shoulders. The city shimmered in the kind of blue-grey light that made everything feel paused, like the world had stopped breathing just long enough to ask: And now what?

Aziraphale stood outside his bookshop with a tart in one hand and a teacup in the other, gazing up at the bruised sky as though it might offer a better answer than prophecy ever had.

Crowley leaned against the Bentley a few feet away, hands buried in his coat pockets, sunglasses still firmly in place despite the dim light. He wasn’t looking at the sky.

He was looking at Aziraphale.

“I don’t know why you bother with the weather,” he said finally. “It’s always disappointing.”

“I find it comforting,” Aziraphale replied, not looking at him. “It doesn’t pretend to be anything it’s not.”

“Right,” Crowley muttered. “Unlike certain angels.”

Aziraphale glanced over. “Was that aimed at me?”

Crowley shrugged, a curl of a smirk on his lips. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

They fell into silence again. The kind that’s too aware of itself.

Aziraphale took a sip of his tea. It had gone lukewarm, but he didn’t mind.

“You know,” he said after a moment, “it’s rather strange. Nothing happened.”

Crowley tilted his head. “What?”

“The end of the world. Armageddon. It didn’t happen. And yet…”

Crowley pushed off the car, slowly, like he was testing gravity. “Funny thing, isn’t it… You save the world, and then it just keeps turning like no change came of it. Same buses, same pigeons, same bloody traffic.”

Aziraphale smiled faintly. “People forget quickly.”

Crowley snorted: “Maybe that’s the trick.”

They were closer now. Barely a step between them.

“You’ve been distant,” Aziraphale said, softly, eyes fixed on the cobblestones.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“With your books?”

“Maybe.”

Crowley swallowed. “Right.”

The tension thickened like storm air. It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t longing. It was both, and something stranger.

“You remember that night,” Crowley said suddenly. “The Ritz.”

“I do.”

“You looked happy.”

“I was.”

A beat.

“You could’ve said something then,” Crowley said, voice low.

“I was afraid.”

“Of what?”

“Of what might happen if I did.”

Crowley looked at him deeply, as if peeling back the layers of tweed and teacups, all the way to the soft, aching truth buried beneath centuries of restraint.

“And now?”

Aziraphale met his gaze, with some shame in his eyes.

“I’m still afraid.”

Crowley gave a sharp breath, half a laugh. “Right. Perfect. Just perfect.”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t tempted,” Aziraphale added quietly. “Every single day.”

Crowley’s voice came out rough. “Then why—”

“I can’t.”

And that was the truth of it. Hanging in the air between them like a thunderclap that never came.

They stood there, inches apart, soaked not by rain but by everything they hadn’t dared say during six thousand years and still couldn’t name.

Crowley stepped back first.

The distance stung.

He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and gave a crooked smile.

“Right. Well. See you tomorrow, Angel?”

Aziraphale nodded, forcing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Same time?”

“Same time.”

Crowley turned toward the Bentley, Aziraphale didn’t stop him.

Nothing had happened.

And yet, everything had.

But nothing was going to change now. Thankfully, they’ve still got a few more centuries, right?

The rain began to fall.

[theborzoiarebackintown]

It’s my favorite time of year once again, Christmas card picture outtakes time!!!

[tygerbug]

Peter Jackson presents the last ever Rutles song?

[katie-with-the-tea]

Today is a day that I sat down to work totally motivated and ready to go!

I've done zero work, except for answering a couple of emails.