#ineffable dads

I tried to make a full comic that goes into more detail of how the process goes but I lost motivation about halfway through. I do want to give it another go when I can, though.

I wonder what game she just won

@goodomensafterdark

“What’s the problem?” Crowley asked in a somewhat threatening way. “Does my being a tree nerd change things for you?” “Is that what you call it? Being a tree nerd?” “Plants, trees, flowers. Big fan of flowers, me.” “That makes two of us.” “Great. Because I’m planning to fix your garden come spring.” Aziraphale blinked, then possibly died and came back to life in the span of a second. “You would?” “Yeah. I’ll spend my free days working on it, whipping it in shape, and you’ll have to watch me through that workshop window of yours and you won’t get any work done ‘cause you’ll be too busy drooling all over your rare Bibles.” Aziraphale gasped, pretending to be very scandalised by the fate of his precious books instead of what he actually was (embarrassingly intrigued, desperately fond and hopelessly horny). “I don’t think so.” “Right.” “Unless…” “Unless?” “What will you be wearing?” Crowley licked his lips. “What do you think I should wear?” “A vest.” “Oh. Just a vest?” “And trousers, of course. I’m not about to have the Neighbourhood Watch knocking on my door to accuse me of public indecency. Poor Mr Tyler would have a heart attack.” “And you’d receive a commendation from Town Hall for that.” Aziraphale pursed his lips and tried for a chastising look. “You demon.”

One moment he was admiring the twinkling lights of the Christmas decorations reflecting off her shiny puffer jacket, the next he was back to staring at Crowley, who was pushing his sunglasses on his perfectly styled hair.  “You may want to turn down the beaming a little bit,” Crowley said, finally deciding to step inside and close the door behind him. Aziraphale was all too aware of how close they were, of the heat crawling up his neck. And God help him, but he didn’t know what to do about the smile. All he managed, in the face of the sheer happiness he was feeling, was a very unconvincing scoff as he mustered all his pompousness to say, “I hardly think I’m beaming. I’m far too distinguished for that.” Crowley was looking at him so intently and standing so close that Aziraphale could feel the warmth radiating off his body, the soft whoosh of his slightly quickened breath and the tantalising smell of his perfume.  It was Midnight Temptation, Aziraphale realised with a little thrill. He had brought a little sample home after his day in London with Adam and Pepper and he’d maybe spent too much time with the little slip of paper glued to his nose (but as far as sins went, he truly believed this one to be very low on the unforgivableness scale).  “Yes, you are,” Crowley countered, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Beaming like anything. You don’t want to be the reason I need to wear sunglasses inside. ‘S widely considered as rude, and I’m trying to charm at least some of these parents.” Well, one of them was already perfectly charmed. Probably a little too much. “Be that as it may, does it really bother you that much?” The little step forward Crowley took right then told him he didn’t mind at all and that the undercurrent of exhilaration Aziraphale had been riding all week was dangerously close to bursting its banks. “Nah. May bother you, though.” “How so?” Whatever could persuade Crowley to erase the distance between them and feed the greedy little creature squirming in Aziraphale’s belly could never be a bad thing. “Keep it up and they’ll put you on top of the Christmas tree. What with you being a right angel and everything. Might be embarrassing, ‘s what I’m saying. Having to look at us from way up there. Not to mention that thing about having a stick up your arse the whole time. Not ideal, really.”

“Pepper’s a good kid,” Mr Crowley was saying in that insufferably dismissive attitude of his. “If she doesn’t like the little hellion–” “Adam,” Aziraphale interjected in a huff, making the grave mistake of sneaking a glance at the man sitting next to him in headmaster Throne’s office.  To be quite fair, ‘sitting’ and ‘whatever Mr Crowley was doing to that poor chair’ were only fourth cousins thrice removed… at best. That was the conclusion Aziraphale had come to over the course of their rather unpleasant meetings – three in all, including this one – in such inauspicious and frankly embarrassing circumstances. The thing about being summoned to the headmaster’s office because your kid is misbehaving was that it felt like being judged for your terrible parenting choices, and the fact that the father of the other kid involved wasn’t taking this seriously enough only irked Aziraphale even more. And don’t even get him started on that poor chair! Aziraphale wasn’t exactly an expert on the subject – quite the opposite, really – but he knew that being a professional model didn’t justify that. Or the rather unfortunate fact that he kept struggling to look elsewhere every time he had the ill-advised idea of gazing at the man. Or the heat he could feel prickling across his cheeks in response, which was definitely due to his irritation alone. All in all, it was quite distressing.