LauraPora

“That’s erm,” your hands fluttered nervously at your side, “well, that’s quite a lot to unpack isn’t it?” 

“I didn’t want to have to tell you but,” he grimaced, “I thought you deserved to know.”

John stared at you, his blue gaze passing through you into another plane of thought. He was acutely aware of the pain he had just inflicted on you. The behemoth of emotional injury that had been transferred onto your shoulders.

He didn’t want to. So why had he? Why had he chosen to burden this perfectly sane woman with his imperfectly chaotic life? 

He waited to see how you would react. Would you collapse into a nervous mess? Cry and scream at him for crippling you with this knowledge? Leave in a flurry of expletives never to be seen again?

That was, after all, how any sane person would react when presented with the morbid chronicles of John Watson’s life. The soldier who never came home from the war. The man who sought adrenaline in the form of chasing after killers and putting bullets into those who would do the same to him. His only friend was a high functioning sociopath and his only wife had been a liar of considerable proportions who he’d lost just as soon as he’d gotten to know her. 

He was not sane, as certain people had been quite eager to remind him, so he had come to accept these things as part of the fabric of himself. The threads that wove him together. 

You, however, were sane. Ordinary and simple in all the best ways, just as he had always wanted his lover to be. You had no bones in your closet, no demons in your bed. Just a beautiful smile and an incredible laugh that had captured his heart with breathless desire.

Six months he’d fallen asleep with you by his side and now he had to let you go. It wasn’t meant to be. How could it? He didn’t fall in love with normal people. The ring he still wore on his finger proved as much. 

He stood firm, and braced himself for your blows. With a sick sort of humor he realized he wanted to be punished. He wanted you to curse his name for ever dragging you into his demented life. He wanted you to leave him because otherwise, he knew, he would beg you to stay. 

“So, let me make sure I understand you correctly,” you began to pace as you listed off the number of inconceivable truths you had just learned about your boyfriend.

“Your best friend is Sherlock Holmes, who has almost gotten you killed a dozen or more times and encourages reckless behavior on your part that is usually illegal. Your acquaintance is his brother, Mycroft Holmes, who is no less dangerous if slightly more nefarious, and he enlists your help on equally deadly tasks with little to no concern for your life. Your wife was actually a covert operative whom you met while you thought Sherlock was dead, but it turns out he wasn’t and she ended up taking a bullet for this man not long after your child was born.” 

You paused and glanced up at John, his face was downcast.

“Did I forget anything?”

“No,” he clenched and unclenched his fists. It was a habit of his you found strangely endearing, “that would be everything.”

“Well,” you exhaled deeply, “here I was fretting about how to tell you that I spent a summer in Florence sampling wine and Italian men when I supposed to be studying agriculture. That all seems a bit humdrum now, doesn’t it?”

Surprise and confusion flitted over his face. He hadn’t quite processed the joke yet.

“It was during my Uni years,” you shrugged, “I worried it might make you think I was a bit too--shall we say--flighty.”

A chuckled escaped his lips and his eyes sought yours with a desperate intensity. Laughter bubbled in your chest and soon the two of you were doubled over with the absurdity of it all. 

When your breath returned, you smiled and righted a lock of hair that had fallen over his forehead.

“It’s a tad unfair though,” you mused,

“What is?” his brow furrowed.

“Telling me all this after I’d already fallen in love with you. Now I haven’t got a choice but to stick around.”

John was speechless. This couldn’t be right. He didn’t understand. You weren’t supposed to be this understanding, it wasn’t supposed to feel this easy.

He searched your face for any trace of misgiving, not that he was very good at it. That was more Sherlock’s territory. Still, he could find nothing but fondness and compassion in your image. He was nearly ready to let himself believe it.

Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.

His arms sought you, enveloping your frame as he wanted--needed--to feel you against him. He kissed your temple and whispered, “Thank you.”

You were truthfully more than a little shocked by everything, but you would have time to process it more thoroughly later. John had entrusted his most painful moments with you and you would treat them with all the care and tenderness that someone as incredible as he deserved.

After a moment you pulled back and gave him a playful smile, “Now, you’re sure there’s nothing else? Rosie isn’t actually a forest nymph that was left on your doorstep?”

He feigned disappointment, “Ah, I was hoping you wouldn’t notice that one.”

His hands slipped down to your waist and his expression was curious, “About that summer in Italy. Is there, erm, anything you learned that you want to share with me?”

You kissed him lightly, testing his patience, “Oh, yes I can think of a few things.”

His eyes were bright with amusement as he captured your mouth with his own once again.

Perhaps you were not sane after all. Perhaps you were. All John Watson knew for certain was that he loved you and that was enough.

__________

It was a stupid idea. You knew that. Only an idiot would develop a crush on a married man, a father.

How do you know he’s married? You asked yourself.

He’s got a wedding band on, you ninny, was the obvious answer.

Could even be gay.

You groaned internally, and tore your gaze away from the man across the park. Focusing your attention solely on the book in your hands you were determined not to look at him again.

A few minutes passed. You glanced up. He was looking back.

“Shit.” You whispered. Seized by panic you brought your book absurdly close to your face and tried to hide your flushed face. 

Well, that’s done then. You’ve been spotted. Now he knows you’ve been ogling him for the past few weeks. Time to move to a new city.

Minutes crept by as you pondered ways to flee the vicinity in a manner that would attract the least amount of attention. Distracted by your own embarrassment, you failed to notice that he had crossed the park and approached you.

You nearly dropped your book when he sat down on the bench beside you. His blue eyes were even more striking up close. Breathing seemed to become a more difficult activity in that moment.

“Which one’s yours?” He asked politely, looking out at the play yard where children were running amok.

“Oh, I haven’t got one. Not today anyway. I bring my niece here sometimes, it’s a lovely park.” You said quickly, too quickly.

He pretended not to notice, bless him. 

He did notice, however, that you lightly touched the bracelet on your wrist when you mentioned your niece. He was more aware of things like that now. He had also noticed your interest in him, of course, but hadn’t decided whether or not to pursue it until today.

“My daughter’s over there, Rosie, she’s almost two now. Already too important to be seen with me on the playground.”

You smiled, “She’s beautiful.” 

He shifted slightly, extending his left hand, “I’m John, by the way.”

You took his hand and shook, “Elizabeth. Or Beth, if you prefer.”

“What do you prefer?”

“Beth,” you said firmly, “wouldn’t want to be confused with her majesty.”

He chuckled and you had to bite your lip to keep from grinning at your own joke. 

“Happens often, does it?”

You nodded, “Especially when I take the corgis for a walk.”

The two of your shared a smile and you discreetly pinched your thigh to make sure this wasn’t a hallucination.

You exchanged a few more trivial phrases, testing the waters. 

He stood up to leave, “Be seeing you then?”

“If you’re lucky.” You could have kicked yourself for that.

To your infinite relief he grinned and gave you a nod before walking away.

__________

By the time you returned home the sun was just beginning to rise. It always worked out that way. Demons were only active at night after all. 

You weren’t involved in the actual deed of slaying demons. It wasn’t until they had been slaughtered that you arrived on the scene to assess the damage. As a member of the Kakushis you were responsible for cleaning up the mess left behind by the hunters. It was disgusting, laborious work and thankless to boot.

Most nights there were only bodies to collect, severed limbs to discard, and parting prayers to be said. Sometimes--on a good night--there were survivors. Your medical training would be put to the test as you brought people back from the brink of death. This was the reason why you joined. To save as many people as possible from meeting the same fate as your younger sister. 

You knew that it would never bring her back, but returning people to their families eased the pain. You grieved her loss every day and begged the heavens to take you instead. It was too late, of course, this was the fate you must endure. 

You had lived alone for some time. Leaving your parents and village behind was the safest option. The closer you were to them the more they were at risk. Demons were your livelihood now and keeping ties with your past could only end badly. 

Stepping across the threshold you removed your head cover and yawned loudly. You shuffled inside, legs weary. Your tatami mat beckoned and sleep encroached on your senses.

“(Y/N).”

Blinking heavily you focused your gaze on a dark shape resting against the wall.

“Oh, Giyu, it’s been a while!”

You smiled despite your fatigue and began to prepare some tea. 

He made no move to assist you, choosing to quietly observe. You could tell something was on his mind. Over the past few years in the Corps you had developed--you wouldn’t go so far as to say relationship--a bond of sorts with the aloof and cryptic demon hunter. 

He was a Hashira, the highest rank of swordsmen, and incredible to witness in action. Yet there was a sadness about him. A great sorrow that lingered in his eyes. You had heard the rumor of his frigid disposition, but you wondered if the reason that everyone disliked Giyu was simply because no one had bothered to see beyond the surface.

As time passed you chipped away at his cool exterior. He ignored your attempts at first, but you never failed to give him a kind smile when your paths crossed. 

On occasion you manage to get a word or two from him. He wasn’t much for conversation, but you came to understand how much he appreciated having company. Someone to sit with in the aftermath, the quiet moments of dawn.

You couldn’t recall exactly when his visits started, but you had grown to look forward to them. They were always like this. He would arrive unannounced, you would make tea, and together you would watch the day break.

“Some night, eh? Happening upon a whole nest of demons like that--”

You poured the boiling liquid into cups and took your place opposite him. 

“Still, we saved quite a few people. I can sleep well today.”

The ghost of a smile flitted over his face. Your ability to find the silver lining in any given situation both perplexed and amused him. 

The two of you sat comfortably and sipped your tea. You waited patiently for him to confess what he was thinking.

“You never object to my presence here,” he spoke softly, “I cannot decide if you pity me or if you are afraid to reject me.”

His words startled you because you hadn’t realized he felt this way. 

“Why should I object? I enjoy your company.” Your reply was earnest and brought color to your face. 

You took great pleasure in your interactions with Giyu. Truthfully you had developed an affection for him, but it was one you rarely allowed yourself to acknowledge. 

“That’s quite an insult to my character, you know, assuming that my kindness is born of pity or fear.” You scolded him, but it was mostly in jest.

“I apologize. If that is the case then I run the risk of insulting you further with my next question, but I must ask it.” He shifted to face you.

“Do you like me?” 

His cobalt eyes pinned you and exposed the vulnerability he harbored. 

You found yourself overwhelmed by his gaze and a little heartbroken. All this time he had no idea the extent of your feelings for him.

“Of course I do, Giyu, I’ve never said otherwise.”

Spurred on by the blood pounding in your ears you reached out to him and placed a gentle hand on his cheek. 

Surprise clouded his features, but he didn’t move away. 

“You never have to worry about that with me, all right?”

He lowered his gaze, “Thank you.”

You started to remove your hand and he swiftly clasped it with his own. You smiled as he intertwined his fingers with yours.

“Can I stay?” His voice was subdued.

“As long as you like.”

__________

“I’m so sorry, Az,” You sniffled, “I’m afraid we have to cancel our plans for lunch. I’ve caught a cold or something, and it usually takes me a few days to recover.”

“Oh, dear, are you all right? Do you need anything?” The Angel’s distress was evident through the phone, “Is it serious?”

You stifled a laugh, “No, no, don’t worry about me, please. It’s the change in weather or perhaps I picked up something from one of my clients. It seems I can’t escape a case of the sniffles every now and then, but I assure you I will be fine.”

You appreciated your friend’s concern even if it was a tad unnecessary. To be fair, Aziraphale’s experience with human sickness was probably not a pleasant one. It wasn’t entirely unexpected for him to be so concerned when what started out as a stomachache for a few people in the 14th century turned into The Bubonic plague.

“Well, I’d still feel better if there was something I could do. What about soup? Humans find soup most comforting when sick, is that correct?”

This time your laughter escaped, “Yes, Az, soup would be lovely.”

“Consider it done,” he replied and you could almost see the delighted twinkle in his eyes.

There was some commotion on his end of the line and a voice that sounded suspiciously like Crowley’s. You blew your nose with a tissue and felt relieved that neither of them were present to see you in such a state.

“Sit tight, my dear, we will have it to you in a jiffy.” 

“We?” You sat up, scattering cough drops on the floor, a look of mortification on your face.

There was a click as Az hung up his rotary phone and you gulped. 

“Oh, no.”

__________

You weren’t sure what Aziraphale had meant by 'we', but you sincerely hoped it did not mean that he and the demon were planning a trip to your apartment. Tissues littered the floor beneath your feet and blankets were piled high into a makeshift den on your couch. The whole room smelled of eucalyptus that pumped from a humidifier in an attempt to clear your sinuses. You didn’t need a mirror to know that your nose was as red as a certain reindeer.

Perhaps Aziraphale would do the sensible thing and order soup from a local restaurant. That way it would be delivered to you by a complete stranger. Someone who wouldn’t care about your haggard appearance and subsequently forget about it in a few hours.

It’s not that you really minded if they saw you in disarray, but as two otherworldly creatures who were immune to the various inconveniences of being human you were worried they might find you gross.

It was silly to think, but the insecurity lingered nonetheless. Despite the friendship you shared with them you were all but convinced that you were one paper cut or bad hair day away from being deemed a bothersome human, a liability, that they no longer wished to converse with.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of an incoming text on your cell phone. Picking it up from the coffee table you were a bit shocked to see Crowley’s name with the accompanying message, “Permission to enter?”

While Aziraphale seemed to prefer technology that was more suited to the early 20th century, Crowley had embraced modern day devices much to your amusement.

“What are you, a vampire?” You replied, thinking this must be some sort of joke on his part.

The next moment your door unlatched and in sauntered the demon himself.

“Bloody hell,” You jumped up from the sofa, clutching a blanket in your arms.

“I was trying to be polite,” he grumbled, “it was a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ question.”

“How about telling me you’re going to darken my doorstep in the first place, Crowley?” 

You sat back down with a huff and did your best to convey a general look of annoyance. 

“Not all sunshine and daisies when we’re sick, are we?” He smirked.

“You wouldn’t be either if you could--you know--actually be sick.”

“It’s not bad, is it?” He asked, genuine concern seeping into his casual tone.

You paused, your gaze softening, “No, it’s not, I promise. Humans get colds all the time. It’s just terribly inconvenient is all. I can’t even work on my commissions because I’m sneezing every other minute and my eyes are watery as a garden hose.” 

You shrugged, “I’m more likely to die from boredom than anything else.”

Crowley perked up, “I could make it go away, just a snap and you’re back to painting corgis in tuxedos.” 

“No,” you said firmly, “no miracles. We’ve been over this, I don’t want you or Az getting in trouble because of me.” 

“It’s hardly a miracle though, is it? More of a speedy recovery--”

“Crowley.” You crossed your arms over your chest.

“All right, fine, stay miserable then. I was only asking for the Angel’s sake, he’s going to be inconsolable until you’re better again.”

“Nice try, but I won’t be made to feel guilty either. Now, do you have soup for me or not?”

__________

You sighed happily, inhaling the wonderful aroma of vegetable soup. Crowley sat quietly, watching with vague interest as you enjoyed the meal. It was truly delicious, perhaps the best you’d ever had, just like mum used to make--

A thought dawned on you, “Do I even want to know how Aziraphale got this for me?” 

Crowley smiled and it was one laced with mischief. “Probably not.”

Frown lines settled themselves on your forehead, “You two are impossible.”

“Some would say so,” was his reply, “He also asked me to deliver these.”

He dropped a few books on the couch next to you, “You can keep them as long as you like. They should prevent death by boredom.”

Your eyes grew wide, “Oh, Az, you are too sweet!”

You picked one of them up and opened it eagerly, all ready to settle in and read for the next few hours.

You couldn’t help but notice that the demon had made no move to leave.

“Erm, Crowley, what are you doing?”

“Waiting.” 

“For what?”

“You to get better.” He said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“You realize that will take a few days--”

“The Angel said not to leave your side until he closes the shop at which point he will stop by and take over.”

You stared at him in disbelief.

“Like I said, inconsolable.” He arched a brow, “So if I were you I would try a little harder on the recovery front, eh, sweetheart?”

You smiled, realizing now that your doubts were unfounded. As ridiculous as you sometimes told yourself it was, these two truly cared about you regardless of your human limitations. The knowledge of it gave you a warm, comforting glow in your chest.

“I’ll try my best,” You snuggled into your cocoon of blankets, secretly hoping that your symptoms would persist long enough to have Crowley visit again tomorrow.

__________

“Oh, Az,” Your face was pink with laughter, “You really went through all that trouble for crepes?”

“Not just any crepes, [Y/N]. Authentic late eighteenth century crepes direct from the source! Surely you understand why I could not miss the opportunity,”

You sipped your tea and smiled, “I bet they were divine.”

“I have failed to find any since that are even a remote comparison,” The Angel sighed wistfully.

The book shop was silent aside from your idle chatter. Seeing as it was a Tuesday Aziraphale had no intention of opening which left plenty of time for him to regale you with tales from the past.

“So Crowley actually helped you escape then? That seems rather out of character for him.”

“Oh, yes, he has come to my aid for more than he would dare admit. Despite what he would have you believe Crowley is actually rather--” the Angel leaned forward, lowering his voice to a whisper, “n-i-c-e.”

“Nice?” You repeated only to be shushed in earnest.

“You mustn't say that too loud! It makes him terribly cross.”

“Can’t imagine why,” you smirked, wondering at how many good deeds the Demon had performed.

You shifted in your seat, brushing crumbs from your lap, and voiced the question that had been lingering in your mind.

“Say, Az, why is it that you and Crowley have stayed on Earth so long? I can understand you have jobs to do and it must be entertaining to watch history unfold, but don’t you ever get the urge to--you know--go back?”

A shadow passed over the Angel’s face and his gaze darted upwards before responding.

“How much do you know about Angels, [Y/N]?”

“Not much,” You confessed, “but I imagine it isn’t all lounging on clouds and harp playing.”

“No,” his voice was gravely quiet, “not exactly.” 

He began to fidget with the buttons on his vest, clearly distressed.

“We’re soldiers. We follow God’s orders as they pertain to the great plan and question nothing. Any sign of doubt or resistance is cause for punishment.”

You frowned, “Punishment?”

“Oh, yes,” you noticed his hands were trembling now, “Angels can be most unkind when the mood strikes them.”

Reaching out to Az you took his hand in yours and squeezed. “You don’t have to say anymore, I quite understand.”

He nodded and drew a deep breath.

“I am very glad you did stay otherwise I would never have gotten to meet someone so wonderful as you.” You added, trying to bring comfort.

He smiled, eyes watery, “Thank you, my dear.”

__________

The following week brought another knock at the door of your flat. You had a fairly good idea of who it might be, although, he was earlier than usual.

You set your brush down and wiped your hands quickly on your smock, hurrying to answer it.

Crowley stood on the other side of the threshold with the familiar biscuit tin tucked under his arm. This had become a pattern of sorts over the last month. Every time you baked for them Crowley would appear a day or so later and return his tin. It was always empty, but he swore he hadn’t eaten a single one because Az hogged them all. This would inevitably lead to more baking on your part.

You didn’t mind this little game of back and forth. It meant Crowley went out of his way to show up at your door and that was practically a “thank you” coming from him. 

This time, as he passed you the tin, he seemed rather amused by something.

“What is it?”

“You’ve got paint in your hair.” What he failed to mention was how charming he found the sight of your paint-streaked person.

You laughed, “Oh, yeah that happens a lot when I’m working. Come in, I’ll show you my latest commission.”

You left the door agape and stepped back. Crowley had thus far never set foot in your apartment despite his mounting curiosity. He didn’t want to give the impression that he was interested in your livelihood. After a few seconds of indecision he ambled inside, the picture of indifference.

You ushered him over to the easel where he recoiled upon seeing your half-finished work.

“Why is that dog dressed like a pirate?”

“Well, their owner has a fondness for all things seaworthy and I thought it suited the personality of a Retriever since they’re natural swimmers.” You explained.

He squinted at the painting, mouth hanging open, and looked back to you.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

You chuckled, “This is what I do for a living. People want to immortalize their pets in a playful manner and I make that dream a reality.”

“That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.” He scoffed, gazing around your sitting room where other animal portraits were strewn about.

“Isn’t it, though?” You smiled proudly, “Who would’ve thought I’d get to combine my two passions, art and animals, and make a career of it. I can’t have any pets myself, of course, I’m highly allergic. Painting them sort of makes it feel as if they’re my own for a time.”

“Must you be so disgustingly good-hearted?” He muttered, picking up a handful of sketches lying on the sofa.

“I’ll take that as a compliment, Crowley.” You smirked, watching him carefully.

You couldn’t help but recall your conversation with Aziraphale. If Heaven was as ruthless as the Angel had made it seem you couldn’t even begin to imagine the atrocities of Hell. Crowley had chosen to stay on Earth as well. Perhaps, similar to Az, he thought it a far better alternative. Increasingly you were led to realize that these two were far more human than not.

“You’re staring.” 

You blinked several times, shaken from your thoughts, “Sorry, I just remembered something.”

Moving over to a secondary easel you uncovered a current work in progress.

“I wanted to show you this.”

“Is that the Angel?” It was a rhetorical question. The likeness was near perfection, right down to the gold pocket watch tucked in his vest pocket.

“Yes, it’s going to be a surprise for Aziraphale to celebrate our friendship.”

You suddenly rounded on the Demon, “Don’t even think of spoiling this for him. Promise me you won’t mention it, not so much as a word.”

“Yeah, all right. I’ll keep your bloody secret.” He shook his head, torn between exasperation and amusement.

You beamed, “Thanks, sweetheart.”

__________

Normalcy resumed soon after you received the bombshell that had altered your entire perception of Earth and its history. 

You were, understandably, a bit nervous at first. You startled easier when spending time in the book shop. Being in close proximity to an Angel reminded you of all the times you had cursed God for a flat tire, traffic jam, or some other minor inconvenience. Not that it mattered much to Aziraphale, your blaspheme  had never stirred him up before. He was probably used to it after spending 6,000 years with a Demon.

Crowley made you uneasy as well, but not for the same reasons. If he was real then Hell was too. Not a comforting thought. Still, Aziraphale considered him a close friend which meant he couldn’t be all bad. Crowley was short-tempered, rude, irritable, and crass but evil seemed like a bit of a stretch. 

To their credit, Az and Crowley tried to act as if nothing had happened. At times it even seemed like they were going out of their way to ease your anxious disposition, which you were extremely grateful for. The fact that a Demon and an Angel enjoyed, or in Crowley’s case, tolerated, your presence was nothing to scoff at.

After a month or so you began to see them as just two people you fancied being around, rather than a pair of winged creatures with an unthinkable amount of power and the means to alter the events of time.

One particularly quiet afternoon found you browsing in Aziraphale’s shop. You were still in search of your next book, patiently waiting for it to happen upon you. That was when it caught your eye. There, on the fifth shelf up, a small faded blue hardcover beauty beckoned to you. Stretching out your arm and rising up on your toes you tried to reach for it, but it was no use.

You wouldn’t go so far as to consider yourself short, but you were certainly no match for Aziraphale’s towering shelves. You pouted, hands on your hips, and contemplated getting a ladder when a hand reached out above you and grasped the book.

You spun around, finding yourself face to shoulder with Crowley. His shaded gaze stared you down, expression unreadable. 

“Here.” He held the book out to you.

You took it, a slight tremble in your hands. Having him so close had caused a shiver to run through you despite the cozy atmosphere of the store. The more time you spent near Crowley the more you noticed the peculiar effect he had on you. It was one you didn’t think appropriate to entertain.

“Thanks very much.” 

He sneered, and took a step back. “What have I told you about thanking me?”

You placed a hand under your chin, feigning contemplation, “To do it as often as possible?”

“Oh, shut it, human.” He sauntered off, leaving you a tad breathless.

__________

It started slowly, your affection for the demon. His image would invade your thoughts at odd hours of the day. You found yourself looking forward to his appearances at the book shop. The biting sarcasm, cheeky comments, even that ridiculous walk, you loved it all. It was no wonder Aziraphale had become so fond of him over time.

You knew how ridiculous it was, having a crush on a demon. That didn’t stop your heart from racing whenever he got too close.

Eventually you decided there was no harm in it since you had no intention of acting on your feelings. Surely, they would pass.

A few weeks later you made up your mind to do something nice for the two of them. They had been so accommodating of you, and it felt the proper thing to return the favor. You were an amateur baker, biscuits being your specialty, and you spent the afternoon covered in flour until you produced enough treats to feed an army. 

The look of delight on Aziraphale’s face made your heart melt when you handed him the tin of sweets. You left the second one in the book shop with a note that read, “For the Demon”.

Crowley arrived later that same day to find Aziraphale munching contentedly on the few remaining biscuits.

“Where did you get those?” He asked, regarding them with mild curiosity.

“Oh, [Y/N] made them! They’re simply scrumptious. They baked a tin for you as well.” The Angel pushed the brightly colored container decorated with Yorkshire Terriers into Crowley’s hands.

He frowned, fully intending to chuck them in the bin once he returned home.

__________

The next evening there came a knock on your door. 

Surprise was evident on your face as you opened the door and saw Crowley standing outside. His Bentley was parked behind him, in a red zone, and the biscuit tin was tucked under his arm.

He passed it to you, “We’ve finished them.”

“Oh, already? I take it you enjoyed them.”

He shrugged, avoiding your gaze. “Can’t say, the Angel got to them first.”

“Well, I suppose I’ll have to make even more next time.” You replied with a chuckle.

“Wouldn’t be a bad idea.” He murmured.

A few seconds crawled by and you cleared your throat to break the silence.

“Would you like to come in?”

He immediately stepped back, “Oh, no I’ve got to get going. There’s a hospital that needs burning, lots of children to make orphans. Work stuff.”

“Right, of course,” You laughed softly, “carry on then.”

As his Bentley roared down the road with Queen’s “Mr. Fahrenheit” blasting from the speakers you hugged the empty tin close to your chest and smiled.

__________

“An Angel and a Demon?” Your eyes darted back and forth between the two otherworldly beings that sat before you. “Well, that is most decidedly not what I was expecting.”

With a loud exhale you slumped backwards in your seat, feeling as though a lead weight had dropped into your stomach.

“Are you all right?” Aziraphale asked, concerned that you might grow faint.

“Oh, yes, of course,” You waved a dismissive hand, “I was thinking more along the lines of black market dealers, connections to underground crime rings, that sort of thing. Angels and Demons, what a relief! At least I can rest easy tonight with the knowledge that neither of you will try to slit my throat for asking too many questions--”

You stood and began pacing, running your hands through your hair and muttering about your inability to mind your own business.

Aziraphale and Crowley exchanged a glance. 

“I’m beginning to think I may have overestimated their understanding of the situation.” Az confessed, looking sheepish.

“You don’t say?” Crowley was far less concerned, and rather amused by your reaction. You were currently hugging a couch cushion to your chest and drawing in deep breaths. 

“We can still take it back,” he raised his hand.

Aziraphale quickly nudged it away, “Just give them a moment.”

Tossing the pillow aside, you focused your attention on the duo once more.

“So, it’s all real then? The Bible? All that nonsense about an Ark, and pillars of salt? Adam and Eve? The Snake?”

Crowley seemed to smirk at your last question.

“Indeed,” Az replied, “We were there for all of it.”

You gaped, and then frowned. “As an atheist, I find that very disappointing.”

A low chuckle escaped the demon’s throat, and he smiled. It was the first time you managed to elicit a positive response from Crowley. Your heart started to beat noticeably faster.

“You are not the first to feel that way,” Az soothed, “most humans are secular these days. It is actually quite fortunate for us as it makes blending in far easier.”

You smiled, thinking that these two couldn’t possibly stand out more if they tried. Then again, sprouting wings in Central London might draw some attention.

Resuming your seat, you toyed with a loose thread on your sweater.

“So, you two have been friends since the beginning?”

“More or less.” Crowley murmured.

“Well, that’s rather sweet.” You beamed at them, “and you work together?”

“Not strictly speaking,” Az dusted some unseen dirt from his spotless coat, “My job is to perform miracles, and Crowley’s is, well--”

“Creating disasters, causing mayhem and general unrest,” he shrugged.

“Somewhere along the way we decided that it would be a more efficient use of our time if one of us were to carry out both duties here and there.” The Angel said with great reluctance.

You laughed, “That’s brilliant! An Angel and a Demon keeping the karmic forces in balance. And they--” You pointed one finger down and the other towards the ceiling, “haven’t noticed?”

“You’d be surprised with how much we can get away with.” Crowley said proudly.

Aziraphale glared at him, and turned to you his voice pleading, “We do have your word on this, correct? You won’t reveal our secret?”

“Oh, Az, who would I tell? Who would even believe me? I’m not entirely sure I believe myself at the moment. If I wake up tomorrow and you two still exist then I can be certain this isn’t a dream, but either way I promise I won’t tell a soul.”

Aziraphale sighed, feeling very relieved that he would be able to keep his current lifestyle and your friendship.

You reached out, clasping the Angel’s hands in your own. 

“Thank you ever so much for trusting me, Az, it means the world.”

He beamed, “Of course, my dear, I do hope this does not alter your perception of me as your friend.”

“Not in the least,” You assured him, and turned to Crowley, “Thanks to you as well, for trusting me.”

“Don’t mention it,” he grumbled, “seriously.”

You suppressed a grin, “So what was it like, then? The beginning of time?”

__________

“So what’s the deal with you and that Crowley character?” 

You gave Aziraphale a discerning stare over the rim of your teacup.

“B-beg your pardon?” He stammered, hand frozen over the biscuit tray.

“Well, you two aren’t exactly inconspicuous with your--” you gestured vaguely, “lifestyle choices. I’ve noticed things, Az.”

He let out a nervous chuckle, and his sapphire gaze would not focus on you.

“At first I thought you an eccentric, which is entirely fine, but there are certain books here in your shop that you couldn’t possibly have attained through normal means.”

Setting your cup aside you leaned forward and spoke with confidence, “Then Crowley arrived and the rest of the puzzle fell into place. Imagine you hanging around with someone like him, well, that just doesn’t add up. Unless, of course, you had a very good reason to do so--”

With every word Az seemed to retreat further back into the cushioned armchair. 

“You must be working together, I’m sure of it. No doubt you have yourselves a nice little arrangement.”

Sitting back with a smirk, you reveled in the look of guilt on your friend’s face. You had no intention of outing him. In all honesty, you hadn’t the faintest idea what was actually afoot. You just happened to be very good at convincing Az that you did.

Still there was a secret between these two, and when it came to retrieving information you weren’t above telling a little white lie. 

Just as Aziraphale seemed on the verge of admission there came the sound of overly deliberate footsteps in the shop. Crowley rounded the corner and let out a pointed sigh at the sight of you and Az sitting together.

“What are they doing here?” 

“I could ask you the same thing, sweetheart.” You smiled, taking in the view.

Upon second appraisal you decided you could appreciate his sense of style. He was unique in much the same way that Az was, unabashedly so.

Aziraphale seized the opportunity, springing out of his chair, “I do apologize, my dear, I entirely forgot Crowley and I have an important matter to discuss.”

“Of course.” You stood and made your way out of the room, “I’ll just be browsing in the front.” 

“Oh, and when you are ready to tell me, Az,” you called out over your shoulder, “mum’s the word.”

__________

“Mum’s the word? Really?” Crowley frowned, “No one even says that anymore.”

He settled into one of the vacated armchairs, stretching out his long limbs.

“Crowley, we have a situation.” Aziraphale whispered, “[Y/N] is far more keen than I had originally surmised. They have become aware of our true natures.”

The demon shrugged, “So?”

Aziraphale stamped his foot in frustration,“This hardly calls for nonchalance! Being friendly with a human is one thing, but if they are wise to the extent of our abilities the consequences could be disastrous!”

“Well, if it has you that bothered I can just make them forget all about meeting us.” Crowley held up his fingers, prepared to snap.

“No! No, no-” Aziraphale pouted, “I like them far too much for that. It would be a shame to lose such a splendid companion.”

“Screw it, then.” He replied, “Just tell them, consequences be damned. There can’t be much harm in it since, according to you, they already know.”

The angel hesitated, wringing his hands together.

“Plenty of humans have found us out before,” Crowley pointed out, “and you trust this one, right?”

Aziraphale nodded his head several times, expression hopeful.

Crowley raised his arms, “That’s settled then. What’s one more enlightened human among the masses? It’s not as if they’re going to change anything.”

--Only after it was too late did Crowley realize how foolish his statement had been. For him, one human could change everything.

__________

Picture yourself in a room full of broken glass Blood on the pieces, the pieces you can't put back A little white light in a sea gone black My head is a room and the room's full of broken glass

You can't change me, can you save me?

Oh, clean eyes, breakin' my heart in all the right ways and No, I don't mind, clean eyes Oh, clean eyes, breakin' my heart and breakin' my chains and I don't know why, clean eyes

--SYML - Clean Eyes

__________

Body perfection like a punch in the face Why don't you sit down closer to me I'm talking sex, religion, politics and stereotypes You know I could make you weak in the knees  

But when I come home late at night and I'm all alone I can't sleep 

I can't break free, I can't break free I can't break even if it's killing me I can't break free, I can't break free

Keep it simple, honey, don't think too much You know we don't care what you believe I'm just a closeted misogynist in love with myself Don't be mad, it's everything you could dream--

--SYML - Break Free

__________

I’m currently obsessed with Crowley and Good Omens

Fingers drifting across the spines of books older than you could realistically fathom, you breathed in the familiar scent of your favorite spot on Earth. Aziraphale’s book shop.

It was a wonder, no, a miracle, that such a place existed a mere ten minutes from your apartment building. You had become such a frequent visitor that a tentative friendship had formed between you and Azriaphale, more affectionately known as “Az”.

Your patronage did not come in the form of currency, Az would not allow it. So rarely did he sell a book that it led you to question his understanding of the entire concept. Still, the two of you had come to an agreement.

You loved knowledge for the sake of it and treated books with a sort of devout respect. Once you had earned his trust, Az established a loan system. You were granted the esteemed privilege of choosing a book to care for until you had managed to extract every ounce of information from it to sate your mind. Upon returning to the shop you were tasked with discussing said book, in painstaking detail, with Az over tea and biscuits.

It was quite a pleasant arrangement.

Today, as usual, the shop was nearly empty. You took your time. The selection process could not be rushed. Having a book choose you was a very special occasion.

In the reverent quiet of the space, the sound of the door swinging open was loud enough to draw your attention. From behind several shelves you watched as a strange man with an affinity for black leather sauntered in.

He was tall, all legs and shoulders, with a shock of red hair. Dark lenses obscured his gaze and added to the “devil may care” persona he so obviously wanted to portray. All of these features put together were too much and you couldn’t help it. You laughed.

He paused midstride as your muffled amusement reached his ears.

“Something funny, sweetheart?”

You could have sworn there was a glint beneath his shades.

Hands fluttering by your sides, you shrugged, “Oh, nothing really--do you, erm, always walk like that?”

“Like what, exactly?” Came his sharp reply.

Aziraphale drifted in and cut the tension with an excited smile.

“So, you two have finally met! How lovely.”

“You know this irritating human?” The man turned now to what could only be described as his antithesis. The difference between the two could not be more apparent, yet you sensed they shared far more in common than their appearances suggested.

“Now, really, there is no need for such hostility.” Aziraphale gave him a meaningful look.

“It’s all right, Az, I was just heading out anyway.” You said, suppressing a smirk.”Nothing for me today, I’m afraid.”

You exchanged a peck on the cheek with your friend, much to the red headed man’s discomfort.

“Oh, do come back soon my dear. I’m sure you will find what you are looking for next time.”

“I always do,” you beamed, “pleasure to meet you--”

“Crowley.” He muttered, refusing to look at you.

“I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around.” You replied and gave a small wave before exiting the shop.

"Don’t tell me you’re friends with that one.”

Aziraphale frowned, “I don’t see anything the matter with it. They make delightful company, and it is so rare to find someone who truly appreciates books in the same manner as I do--”

“Bo-ring,” Crowley interrupted.

“Always so quick to pass judgement,” he tutted, “though, I do believe you shall change your mind about this one.”

The demon sneered, “Wipe that smile off your face right now, Angel.”

__________

Orbit -  A sphere of activity, interest, or application.

Stifling a yawn, Mina Sulu entered the Botany laboratory and settled down behind her desk with a cup of herbal tea. It was approaching 1800 hours, and while most of the crew members aboard the Starship Enterprise were winding down, she was just getting started.

The twenty-six year old junior science officer had been assigned to work night shifts, which she personally took great enjoyment in. Peace and quiet were both rare instances on the ship, and she nearly jumped out of her seat at the prospect of attaining the position.

Working into the early hours of morning didn't bother Mina at all, she had always been something of a night owl, and more importantly it allowed her to avoid times of peak activity on the vessel. Not that she didn't appreciate a little excitement now and then, but her idea of a good time had more to do with microscopes, and alien flora than it did Phasers or planetary exploration.

After completing a routine check of the current specimens in the lab, she eagerly began inspecting the newest finds that the field officers had brought in. The room was silent aside from the whirring of machinery as Mina ran diagnostic tests on the foreign plant life, taking extensive notes with a PADD.

Despite being heavily immersed in her work, Mina kept a book open on her desk and would occasionally stop to scan a page, her dark eyes absorbing the content with notable interest. She was so absorbed in her routine that she failed to notice a figure standing in the doorway.

Their presence was preventing the automated door from sliding shut, and they took advantage of this fact to observe Mina's actions for a minute. Then, stepping into the lab, the man cleared his throat softly.

She glanced up quickly and saw that her brother, Hikaru Sulu, had stopped by for their usual evening chat. An occurrence that Mina simultaneously dreaded, and enjoyed. The two siblings were very close, but that often meant Hikaru stuck his nose where it didn't belong. Growing up, he had assumed the role of being her protector, and it was something he had a hard time relinquishing even now.

She offered him a smile, and resumed her work hoping he would get the hint and leave sooner rather than later.

Hikaru wandered over to Mina's desk, attempting to keep a casual demeanor, but his attention was trained on the book he had seen her pouring over. Gazing down at the pages, he frowned.

"You're still studying Vulcan?"

Mina sighed, she knew that tone all too well, it was his 'I don't approve of your decision' voice.

"Consistency is typically how one achieves progress."  She responded evenly.

"Progress towards what? There is only one Vulcan aboard this ship, and he speaks English perfectly well. There would be no practical reason for you to address him in any other way."

Mina bristled, her agitation growing with each second. "Can't a woman have a hobby?"

"It's never just a hobby with you, Mina." Hikaru said quietly, and stepped closer to his sister.

"You've got that same look in your eyes. I've seen it enough to know that you're fixating again, and on your senior officer, no less. It's a waste of time, and you know it. There's just no getting through to him."

Mina took a step back, and shot her brother a dark look. "I appreciate your concern, Hikaru, but must inform you that your fears are completely unfounded as I am perfectly capable of discerning fact from fiction, and therefore have no ulterior interest in Vulcan culture beyond intellectual stimulation."

She moved away from him, and crossed the laboratory to silence a machine that had completed a scan to identify possible unknown biological entities in plant composition.

"And besides that, I don't think it's any of your damn business what I read, or enjoy."

Hikaru let out of a frustrated groan, and crossed his arms over his chest. "I just don't want to see you get hurt."

He waited, but Mina gave no response, and Sulu turned to exit the lab.

"Good night, Mina."

"Good morning, Hikaru."

__________

One of the most irritating things about working with her brother was that he knew her too well. Hikaru hadn't been entirely wrong when he mentioned Mina's tendency to fixate on things, sometimes to the point of obsession. She'd been that way her entire life, although, her control over it was far more refined these days.

Still, it hadn't stopped her from developing an interest in a particular first officer. Out of all the humans and humanoids aboard the Enterprise, Mina had to set her sights on the one who was, quite literally, emotionally unavailable. She didn't need anyone to tell her how ridiculous the notion was, but it seemed the laws of attraction had a twisted sense of humor, as Mina was undeniably captivated by the pragmatic, and ever logical Lieutenant Commander Spock.

Tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear, she frowned and attempted to regain focus on the current situation. This proved useless, however, because moments later the door of the laboratory slid open once again.

"If you've come back to question more of my life choices, I don't want to hear it." Mina announced, not bothering to check who had entered.

"I have no intention of discussing anything pertaining to that subject." A cool voice replied.

She gasped, and spun around, cursing inwardly as her gaze fell upon the pointed ears, and impeccable posture of the Vulcan commander.

"My apologies, sir." Mina clutched the PADD to her chest, heat rising in her face. "I thought you were someone else."

Spock arched an eyebrow, "Yes, that is quite clear."

"Is there something I can do for you?"

There was a brief silence, during which Mina was painfully aware of her constricted breathing. She felt like a fish who had been suddenly thrust from calm, comfortable waters into the stark and unforgiving air.

Spock gave no indication that he noticed her discomfort, his keen eyes assessing her as if they were meeting for the first time.

In a way, that was true. Neither of them had yet made direct contact before now due to Mina being reassigned only one week ago. She had taken comfort in that anonymity, and having it ripped away so quickly left her floundering, for lack of a better word.

"I thought it would be beneficial for both of us to be formally introduced. As Science Officer it is my responsibility to evaluate the performance of all those who work within the Sciences Division aboard this vessel. This includes conducting intermittent progress reports to ensure that your work is satisfactory."

"Right, of course. I was just finishing up diagnostics on alien flora collected from the latest expedition to the class L Planet that was charted yesterday."

Spock nodded, "Please continue, I would like to monitor your procedures first-hand."

Mina gulped, and a shiver ran through her body. No pressure.

She clutched her stylus tightly to hide the tremble in her hands, and resumed documenting the results of each lab test as it was completed. It was hard to tell whether or not Spock could sense her unease, but he had the decency to at least give her some space while she worked.

About ten minutes passed before he spoke again, causing Mina to jump slightly as his confident voice broke the silence.

"You are attempting to learn Vulcan."

She threw a cursory glance over her shoulder, and saw his tall figure stooping slightly to read the book she had left open on her desk. Her eyes widened, but she tried to remain calm. There was no reason for Spock to draw any rash conclusions as her brother had.

"Yes, I've always found language to be an integral part of cultural study, and I'm already fluent in four languages, so I figured why not add a fifth?"

Mina cringed as her statement lingered in the room. She hadn't meant to sound so pretentious, but her thoughts never seemed to translate very well into spoken word. One of the many reasons she loathed small talk.

Spock tipped his head to one side, eyes curious. "Cultural studies is a topic more suited to someone interested in Communications. Is it possible that you intend to one day join your brother as a member of the helm crew?"

Mina grinned in spite of herself, and chuckled softly.

A slight crease appeared on Spock's brow. "I was not aware that my question could be perceived as humorous."

"No, no it wasn't so much your question as..." She shrugged, "to be honest sir, just the thought of working alongside my brother is laughable. I can assure you I'm perfectly happy where I am. Learning about other cultures is simply a pastime I enjoy."

Confusion flitted over her commander's features, but he quickly resumed his neutral expression.

"Very well." He paused, glancing down once more at the book. "If you find yourself unable to understand an aspect of Vulcan linguistics, you may refer to me as a guide. I would be most interested to hear your thoughts on the structure and syntax of the language as it compares to the others you've studied."

Now it was Mina's turn to be confused. If it wasn't for the blood pounding in her ears, she could have sworn that Spock just admitted to wanting the two of them to carry out a casual conversation.

"Oh, that would be great, thank you." She managed to say.

He bowed slightly, and spun around towards the exit. "Good evening, Officer Sulu."

She frowned at the use of her last name, it reminded her too much of Hikaru.

"Actually, sir, you can call me Mina."

His head turned slightly, eyebrow arched. "Is your title an insufficient way to address you?"

Realizing her mistake, Mina quickly shook her head, "No, of course not, forget I said anything."

Afterglow - a pleasant effect or feeling that lingers after something is done, experienced, or achieved.

Junior Science Officer Mina Sulu - Arden Cho

Lt. Commander Spock - Zachary Quinto  

Playlist

Aquarius - Quentin Sirjacq

We Move Lightly - Dustin O'Halloran

Indaco - Ludovico Einaudi

A fluffy oneshot with my ultimate bias ^.^

Will you be home soon?

You clutched your phone tightly to your chest, awaiting the response of your boyfriend. It had been five weeks since you last saw him, and you were fighting to stay awake so you could greet him as he arrived.

Your eyes were heavy, making it difficult to focus on the images from the television across the room. The sofa was too comfortable, and you scolded herself for lying down in the first place.

There was no way you could fall asleep, not when Namjoon was on his way this very moment. You had been looking forward to his return all day, and were determined to surprise him at the door.

Your phone buzzed, rousing you from your drowsy state. You eagerly checked the message.

Almost there, I promise. Should only be another hour.

You smiled to yourself, and started to type a response. Your fingers fumbled on the screen, and before you could finish the phone fell from your hand.

_____

The door opened with a soft click, and Namjoon made his way into the room. He was exhausted, having just gotten off the plane, and had taken a cab straight home. The only thing keeping him awake was the thought of seeing you again. Five weeks away from you was torture, and the thing he wanted most in the world at the moment was to fall asleep next to you once again.

"Babe?" He called out, expecting to hear your voice respond.

When he was met with silence Namjoon entered the next room, only to find you asleep on the sofa. He smiled, knowing you had tried to stay up for him.

He quietly made his way over to you, and saw that your phone was on the floor next to you. Picking it up, he checked the screen and let out a soft laugh.

All right, please be safe. I'll try to stay up-

He set the phone aside, and moved closer to you. Deciding it was best to let you sleep, he placed a soft kiss on your forehead, and left to unpack his things.

_____

You awoke to the sound of running water. Sitting up, you rubbed her eyes and looked around the room. The sound was coming from the bedroom, and you realized someone was in the shower.

You quickly stood up, stumbling a little as you made your way towards the noise.

"Namjoon?" You called out, "Where are you?" Your mind was still clouded with sleep.

"In here." Came his reply, and the sound of his voice made your heart race.

Entering the bedroom you saw the light from the bathroom was on, and steam was leaving from under the door. The sound of the shower being turned off echoed through the room, followed by footsteps. Suddenly, you were wide awake, and your only thought was that you had to see Namjoon this instant.

Running to the door, you pulled it open to reveal the person you loved with all your heart.

"Ah! [Y/N], you startled me!" he cried out, looking up in surprise.

He was clothed in just his underwear, his wet hair hanging around his face, but you hardly noticed. You only cared about his eyes, those warm, kind eyes that held so much love. The ones you had been longing to see for weeks.

You stepped forward and threw your arms around him, pulling him close.

"Namjoon, I'm so sorry I fell asleep. I wanted to be awake for you, so I could greet you as you got home!"

He chuckled, wrapping his arms around you, and running a hand through your hair. It felt wonderful to hold you in his arms again, and he took in your familiar scent with great pleasure.

"You don't have to apologize, [Y/N]. I know you tried your best, and you're awake now right?"

You shook your head, gazing up at him in distress. "It's not the same, I was supposed to surprise you! Namjoon I...I missed you so much!"

You buried your face in his chest, and held him tightly, as if you never wanted to let go.

"I missed you too, babe." He said softly, rubbing your back. "Do you know what I missed the most?"

You looked up at him again, this time with curiosity. "What?"

He traced the side of your face with his finger, "Your smile."

You blushed, and sure enough your lips formed a pleased expression.

Namjoon leaned forward, eager to capture your lips with his own. You melted against him, savoring the sensation you had missed for so long.

When you parted, you suddenly became very aware of his half clothed state.

Your face grew warm, and you took a step back. "I'll just wait in the bedroom for you."

Namjoon, however, was not about to let you go. Pulling you back to him, he rested his forehead against yours.

"Why don't we go there together?" He asked, his tone mischievous. Reaching down he grabbed your thighs and lifted you up, swinging your legs around his waist.

"Namjoon! What are you doing?" you asked, as he walked into the bedroom with you clinging to him.

He stopped in front of the bed, and lowered you down carefully. Leaning over you, he kissed you again and you could barely contain yourself at the passion it held.