Title: Prophetic Miracles
Author: andiais
Pairing: Aziraphale/Crowley
Fandom: Good Omens
Rating: PG-13 to soft R
Disclaimer: Good Omens belongs to the geniuses known as Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman.
Note: Unbeta'd. Written for Thilia's request of Crowley/Aziraphale on my Drabble's challenge. My first Crowley/Aziraphale fic! Sorry it's not filthy smut! I promise I'll follow ti up with lots of dirty pr0nz!
Summary: Crowley was a twisted bastard.***
Aziraphale was in heaven. Well, not literally, of course, but figuratively. The book in his hands was dirty, dusty and smelled like Raphael's old socks, and it was good. It was a previously thought lost book of Persian Prophesy. Heathen, yes, and written by a total nutter, but it made for a very fun read.
As he perused it slowly, hands stroking across the pages lovingly, another hand slid over his shoulder towards his left nipple.
"Crowley, please. I'm trying to read here."
The only response he got was a pair of smiling lips against the nape of his neck, followed by a gentle bite that held the hint of fangs and the promise of more to come.
"Crowley, do you mind? This really is very important you know. Nobody has read this book in over six hundred years. Why, just look here, it says that the serpent will take the dove and the small death will swallow them both."
"Does it really? Fancy that." Crowley's response caused a spark to light a fire of suspicion in Aziraphale's mind. Crowley was a devious bastard. Of course, he was a demon, so this was to be expected and, not necessarily his fault. However, this meant that he tended to be twisty and tricksy and sometimes a little, well, mean.
"You created this, didn't you. You miracled this, and gave it to. Why did you do that? Just for a giggle?"
"First of all," Crowley answered, voice smooth and full of smoke and velvet. It was a voice made for sin, Aziraphale had oce thought, which was fitting, all things considered. "I do not giggle. Nor do I 'miracle'. I did create it, yes, but not to hurt you, or make you out to be an idiot. I did it because I....I...." Crowley broke off, obviously uncomfortable with what he was trying to get across to the aggravated Angel. The angel that was beginning to look a little shamefaced as he realised that Crowley was telling him that he felt what Demons really aren't supposed to feel.
"Well, yes. Well I think that that prophesy was just ridiculously obvious. Really Crowley, the serpent and the dove?"
Crowley's smile was somewhat sheepish, and Aziraphale sighed as Crowley reached out once more, unbuttoning his shirt and pushing it down his arms; forcing Aziraphale to put down the book.
As Crowley pulled Aziraphale towards the bedroom, Aziraphale realised that Crowley would always be a twisty, flash bastard. However, Crowley was his twisty, flash bastard, and that's all that mattered.***