From the 2006 Archive: 10 drabbles originally written for ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif) goodomens100 |
[Sep. 15th, 2007|09:41 pm] |
Title: Under Heaven
Rating: PG, with implication.
Words: 100
Challenge: Triumph
Points: Crowley and Aziraphale
From this high, Paris glitters, the fairest of kingdoms under heaven. Aziraphale says so.
Crowley, unable to disagree, laughs.
"It's not a kingdom of heaven, angel."
Conveniently, Aziraphale's wings are free, and it's no fault of his if, stretching, he catches Crowley upside the head.
"Quite true," Aziraphale says, watching the demon rub his temple. "But it is, nevertheless, fair."
"We prefer to call it 'enticing,'" Crowley says, lowering his glasses to follow the progress of a traffic jam in the rotary below. "Or 'seductive,' or – "
From this high, Paris glitters, but from this close, Aziraphale sees nothing but gold.
Title: Culinary Delight
Rating: PG, with…implication via absurdity.
Words: 99
Challenge: Turkey
Points: Crowley and Aziraphale
"I can't believe this," Crowley muttered, dubiously eyeing the baster. "You want me to put it where?"
Aziraphale set the potholder aside with an irritated sigh. "Oh, for heaven's sake. Give it here."
Crowley leaned forward to watch, peering into the waves of heat. "Is it almost done?" he asked, impatient.
"Not by half," Aziraphale said, closing the oven. He put the baster on a plate so it wouldn't mess up the counter. "I'm going to see what's on television. Keep an eye on it, will you, dear boy? Remember: every fifteen minutes."
Smiling, he left Crowley to bristle.
*
(I know that Thanksgiving is a purely American holiday, so this is intended to be Christmas or any other random time at which two British gentlemen might find themselves roasting a turkey. You may return to your regularly scheduled procrastination.)
Title: Spoiled
Rating: PG, with heavy implication.
Words: 100
Challenge: Sports
Points: Aziraphale & Crowley
Crowley gripped his putter and took aim, frowning in concentration.
There was an indiscreet, distinctly bored yawn from the cart.
"Do me a favor," Crowley muttered, "and shut up."
"I believe one of your favorite Americans," Aziraphale mused, "had something enlightening to say about this."
"Which is?"
"'Golf is a good walk spoiled.'"
"Whereas you can't be troubled to walk."
Aziraphale took a sip of something, probably the wine that Crowley had stowed in the cart.
"My dear, unlike Mr. Twain, I'm speaking metaphorically."
Much later, Crowley decided that the best part of a golf resort was definitely the resort.
Title: From the Lost Book of Agnes Nutter
Rating: PG (for Prophetic Guidance)
Words: 74
Challenge: Music
Points: The Witches
502. And there schalle be Music even
untoe the Queene, if thou leaveth
yt inne the Chariot a fortnyght hence.
Ther schalle be also synginge an
dauncyng of the sort which yf
daungerous untoe thee Toes yf to
London Towne wyth Newt yow goe.
Look yow to gettynge youre
Daughters Two lecciouns as soone
as yow are abel. Mark wel the byrd
that in Berkeley syngs; noon of yorn
schal swich wondrous Melodye make.
Title: The Night Before
Words: 100
Challenge: Television
Points: The Witches or Aziraphale & Crowley; I'm not sure what this counts as. Let's just say Witches.
Anathema had insisted: they didn't need a television.
Newt had disagreed.
Christmas Eve found Anathema with her feet propped on the coffee table and Newt's head in her lap. He had an unfortunate love of unfortunate black and white films, which Anathema couldn't tell apart. Instead, her family had always read from Agnes.
Anathema made sure Newt was asleep before slipping the remote out of his hand. She didn't like the news, but it amused her when they showed hordes of harried last-minute shoppers.
That's when she saw them, in one brief, snowy shot, arm in arm.
Anathema didn't mind visitors.
Title: Surprises
Challenge: Expectations
Word Count: 100
Points: The Witches
It wasn't that Anathema had expected more of marriage. It was, quite possibly, that she had expected less.
"Honey," Newt calls from the front door. "A little help with this?"
He is struggling with a very large box. He has it wedged between himself and the door frame, and he looks rather disturbed at the prospect of it dropping, which is what it is surely about to do, given that his hands aren't that steady. He prefers not to drop things.
What the box contains, Anathema is almost afraid to guess, but she abandons her reading anyway.
It's to be expected.
Title: Different
Rating: PG-13. Slash ahoy.
Words: 100
Challenge: Contact
Points: The Witches
Crowley sighed, shifting his weight. Somehow, it was different than he had expected.
With a sleepy noise, Aziraphale rolled over and buried his nose in Crowley's hair.
Nobody had warned Crowley about this part; it was probably Somebody's idea of a grand cosmic joke. The whole thing was funny, really. He had never seen that look on the angel's face before, and indulging in certain human-learned habits had never felt quite that good. And Crowley was sure he shouldn't enjoy kissing on a level that didn't involve Lust.
Aziraphale yawned, nuzzling Crowley's ear.
Different, Crowley decided, might just be tolerable.
Title: What Hell Doesn't Know
Challenge: Secrets
Words: 100
Points: Aziraphale & Crowley
The first time Crowley brought over tea bags, Aziraphale quickly dispatched them to the cupboard—and later to the trash. What Crowley didn't know couldn't hurt him.
The last time, Aziraphale gave him a hurt look and asked if he thought that Aziraphale had forgotten how to procure loose-leaf. Crowley had given him a puzzled look in return and said, no, he was merely responding to the fact that Aziraphale was usually out by the time he got there, and what else did he have time to shop for?
Aziraphale will never forgive Heaven for coming up with Convenience.
Title: A Matter of Opinion
Words: 100
Challenge: Sleep
Points: Crowley & Aziraphale, because Crowley's in a snit about being humiliated so.
In the end, it was the warmth that sold him. He never could resist that, not from the very Beginning. Sun on his back, warming the earth beneath his feet. Kind of like that, he decided, only less bright and a lot softer and darker, and, as the humans would say, cuddlier. The fact that Crowley makes sleep cuddly, however, is frequently the subject of heated debate. The demon insists that isn't the case, because, by definition, demons can't be cuddly.
Aziraphale just chuckles into the tangle of soft, dark hair tucked under his chin and drifts back to sleep.
Title: Itinerary
Challenge: Holidays
Words: 100
Points: Aziraphale & Crowley
"Are you sure this is what your people had in mind?"
"Positively. We even get sick leave, you know."
Aziraphale sighed, spreading the handful of brochures out on the gaudy hotel bedspread.
"Well, there's – er, that place with the big golf ball, and – "
Crowley rolled over, swiping the brochures into a colorful clutter on the floor.
"Epcot," he corrected. "It's very educational. Right up your alley."
Aziraphale frowned at him, then reached to straighten the brochures.
"I'm afraid I don't under – "
"Forget it," Crowley said, and yanked Aziraphale back onto the mattress.
Those three-day passes were ridiculously expensive anyway. |
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