#pendragyn writes

In The Garden; pre-fall, pre-canon fic of them in the Garden of Eden.

BEFORE THE BEGINNING...

…Was darkness. That’s what happens when the sun isn’t up, and as it was almost the middle of the night —the first night, leading into the first day in the Garden of Eden— darkness was only to be expected.

The Great Plan was being set in motion. The countdown to start the countdown to the end of the world had begun. Things were getting down to the wire and the Heavens were in a tizzy to make sure everything went off without a hitch during the official launch.

Down in the Garden of Eden, all was peaceful. This was also to be expected. The only living beings in the entire Garden were two corporeal but unconscious angels reposing among the roots of the Tree. They’d been held in stasis since their incorporation a number of days earlier and weren’t due to wake until things were officially under way. Ostensibly this was to allow them to acclimate to corporeality, but in reality it was to keep them out of everyone’s metaphorical hair.

Of course, even the best laid plans never do go quite as planned, do they?

There was no Heavenly fanfare heralding the occasion, no Celestial sign except the eternal march of the stars across the sky, nothing at all to indicate that something was being set into motion as midnight of the day in question rolled around.

But down in their resting spots, the angels awoke.

Serpents And Ladders; what happens after the end of In The Garden.

After the fall of the Garden, for the first time that any could remember, change came rapidly to Heaven in the form of the instant adoption of corporeal forms amongst most of the archangels, much to the bafflement of some of the oldest Celestials who were gently prodded to a quiet retirement out among the stars. Heaven itself shifted to accommodate their altered forms, which forced the rest of the Celestials and the Elementals who did most of the day to day operations to adopt similar seemings.

Of course, Aziraphale and Crawly knew why it caught on, not that anyone ever thought to ask them. The reasoning was simple enough, if multi-faceted. Firstly, corporeality is a surprisingly potent antidote to knurd[1], with built in buffers against the harshness of reality. Really no surprise that it was popular.

Secondly, Celestial beings come in a great many shapes and sizes and types and having them all conform to one generally accepted shape was much more convenient, especially when it came to paperwork. (No one knew where paperwork had come from, since paper was technically not a thing yet, but there you go. It’s ineffable.)

Thirdly, with the increasing tensions between certain factions within the Host, having your firmament safely ensconced inside of flesh and bone made it that much harder to be spied on, making secrets that much easier to keep, especially once they discovered how to hide their wings.

And last but not least, though it took Aziraphale and Crawly a long while to fully comprehend the ramifications of it, it was because the humans began to believe, in great enough numbers, that that was how Heaven and the Host looked.

1. Being knurd is to be unintoxicated to such an extent that all comfort stories are stripped away from the mind. This makes you see the world in a way 'nobody ever should', in all its harsh reality.

Ask Not For Whom The Bell Tolls (It Tolls For They); the church in ‘41 and what happens, and doesn’t happen, after. (total tearjerker)

Crowley ran, ran and ran, heart pounding, almost blind with panic, hissing with pain as their foot hit the edge of consecrated ground, but it didn’t matter, because they were in time and like a snake shedding their skin the panic slipped away as they yanked open the door and hot-footed their way into the church under the confused eyes of a trio of nazis and an angel moments away from a fate worse than death.

A church, for fuck’s sake? Can’t the angel see it’s a setup? A trap? Dealing with nazis on holy ground, giving them holy books, even if it’s supposed to be a double-cross, a double double-cross. “Sorry, consecrated ground. Ugh, like being on the beach in bare feet.” Crowley fervently kept that thought in mind, because in reality, it was far far worse than that. Crowley was very good at imagining not being on fire, and that belief was all that was keeping them from falling to ash inside that church.

Aziraphale continued to stare at Crowley in shock, for a moment wondering if they were actually hallucinating the way humans could during moments of high stress. Because consecrated ground discorporates demons, and yet. And yet, Crowley was somehow really here. Why the he heaven is Crowley here? “What are you doing here?” Aziraphale hissed, the nazis and the gun momentarily forgotten.

“Stopping you from getting in trouble,” Crowley hissed back, dancing from foot to foot just an arm’s length away from Aziraphale. Play it cool, play it cool, play it cool, if you panic you’re both done for.

Stacking The Deck;

Harriet wanted to be asleep. She’d just had a baby a few hours earlier, and all she really wanted was sleep. They had given her something for the pain, but it didn’t stop her having to use the restroom, which was NOT FUN right now, and it took a while for things to settle back down and she just. wanted. sleep.

What she got, was voices.

A few she recognized, distant and muzzy, as the nuns who’d helped deliver the baby. There was also the one not-nun who’d shuffled in during the chaos, wrinkly as an old apple with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, who had actually delivered the baby before quickly shuffling back out again. The nuns had treated her with deep respect, whispering to each other about ‘a touch of the Old Adam’ she carried about her.

There was now a lot more raucous laughter coming from down the hallway, and some singing of what were definitely not religious hymns. Mingled in were the voices of men, which some deep part of her brain realized were from her supposed security detail, who’d abandoned her the minute the live feed with her husband had ended.

But under those voices was another voice, one that she’d learned to listen to when it whispered a little too loudly to ignore. And it was telling her to check on the baby, to check on Warlock. Right Now.

With a muffled groan Harriet slid her legs over the side of the bed and eased herself to her feet. With the dimmed lights and muddled by whatever they had given her, it took her a moment to realize that the bassinet wasn’t there. No Warlock. And no guards. And no nuns.

The coolness of the linoleum felt good against the bottoms of her feet and she shuffled dreamily out of the room into the empty hallway, too well medicated to feel panic, but the little voice was getting louder. And it was talking with an odd accent, which was weird. And it was calling her by her full name now, which was even more unusual. Find your baby, Harriet Sibyl Dowling. Find him now or lose him forever.

Nature vs Nurture; raising the antichrist

After the handshake, Crowley left in a hurry to set some of their plans into motion, with promises of talking soon and a casual ciao tossed over their shoulder before slipping out of the shop and roaring off down the road. What Aziraphale didn’t see was the demon pulled over a few blocks later, pressing their forehead against the steering wheel of the Bentley and letting out a shuddering sigh of relief that the angel had finally, finally, agreed to help them save the world. And wondered, briefly, if God hadn’t been right to kick Crowley out, because how much of a right proper bastard did you have to be to knowingly ask your best friend to do the most dangerous thing they could ever possibly do?

Aziraphale’s first course of action was to make sure the shop door was locked before retreating into the back room to think, away from the demon’s so very temping influence. It didn’t take the angel long to convince themself that it had to be the right thing to do, because otherwise it wouldn’t be hell starting the war, but heaven, and surely heaven didn’t want a war. Once that was settled, Aziraphale began to really set their mind to finding the solutions to the multitude of problems their scheme would surely entail. The second course of action was to retrieve the ancient tome of magic they kept safely secured in a secret room on the second floor of the shop and settling it reverently on to the desk to start their research.

Setting Things To Rights; Adam Young gets a visit from Agnes Nutter after the world doesn’t end.

“Come back. Please.”

Adam stared down at his best friends in the whole universe, sure his heart was breaking as they turned and ran away. He knew then he’d messed up bad, maybe beyond fixing. He tried to call them back, to beg even, but no sound would come and he closed his eyes against the sting of tears. Come back! Please! he wanted to say, pressing his hands to his tear-dampened face. I’m sorry!

  You don’t need them. You can have new friends. Better friends. All you have to do is show us the way.

A low growl and a familiar waft of doggy breath as a wet tongue lapped at his cheek had Adam opening his eyes, and he hugged Dog tightly in relief. “Oh Dog! I’m so glad you’re here,” he whispered hoarsely, smiling when Dog licked him again. “I am sorry, you know that, don’t you?”

Dog whined and licked him again in answer.

“Thanks boy.” Adam let out a much heavier sigh and rubbed at his eyes when tears threatened again. The dream had been so real, too real, more memory than dream, and frightening in ways he didn’t want to think about. It hurt, knowing he’d hurt his friends so bad they’d stopped being his friends. And even though they’d forgiven him in the end, would they ever really trust him again? Especially when he could still do what he’d done? Would he trust someone who had done that to him?

In the silence there were two faint but distinct knocks that Adam heard clear as a bell. Dog’s ears perked up and Adam blinked and they both looked around the room for a source of the noise. There wasn’t much light but it was more than enough to show that nothing was out of place.

Still, Adam found himself saying, “Who’s there?”

A faint glimmering form stepped through the door. It was an old woman, dressed in really old clothes. “I have waited a long while for this meeting, Adam Young.” She bowed at him, a faint smile on her lips. “I be Agnes Nutter, witch. And ghost.”

Ineffable Bastards; the one I’m stuck on. :/

Groaning brakes pulled Crowley from their thoughts and they led Aziraphale off the bus, waiting until it had pulled away to turn towards their building. There was a sharp twinge in their stomach when they looked to the empty spot where the Bentley was usually parked. They felt another twinge when they looked at Aziraphale, who was staring up at the building with a distant blankness of expression that Crowley understood all too well. “C’mon, angel, I think we could both use a drink.”

No sound came at first, but Aziraphale managed to croak out, “Yes,” after a moment. They felt strangely distant from their feelings in the odd silence and they trailed behind the demon into the flat, which was both nothing like and exactly like what Aziraphale would expect from Crowley. The art got a few blinks but there was no energy to consider what they might mean after the day week decade they’d had.

Unlike the bare concrete walls in the other rooms, the kitchen was slick with creamy white marble and terrazzo tiles, ebony cabinets that gleamed and stainless steel appliances that had never been used or even plugged in, though they were well stocked with food and drink. Crowley grabbed a bottle at random and a couple of glasses, bringing them over to the chrome and glass table with a small collection of colorful orchids in the center. “Salute.”

The angel lifted their glass to toast before downing the drink and holding it out for a refill. Crowley obliged and they sat in silence for a while before Aziraphale asked, “Now what?”

“Eh, now I fall down and sleep for a while and you…” Crowley pulled off their glasses and gave the angel a long look. “You don’t really sleep do you? You should try it, great for getting away from your thoughts.”

“Rarely. Doesn’t seem to work that way for me, I’m afraid.” Aziraphale sighed and shook their head. “I just keep thinking about Agnes’ prophecy. Face the fire.” They shuddered a little. “You know what that means, don’t you?”

Rubbing at their tired eyes, and the sting of unsheddable tears, Crowley nodded. “You’re in big trouble, angel.”

“You know full well we’re both, as they say, in for it,” Aziraphale corrected, smiling a little when Crowley gave them a look. “I’ve toed the line for a long time, but you, my dear, have danced around it to the point that I’m not sure they even know where they drew the line to begin with. If Heaven is going to ‘fire’ me, what’s Hell going to do to you?” Saying it aloud had tears burning in their eyes and they wiped at them hastily.

Wilde Card; my take on why Aziraphale had a set of Oscar Wilde’s works.

“Aziraphale?”

“Hmm?”

Crowley tried to find a subtle way to ask, but curiosity had been eating at them to the point of distraction since the former angel had let slip that humans could have preternatural ancestry. “When you said, you’d never… with a human.”

Aziraphale gave them a confused look that melted into amused understanding when they realized Crowley was blushing. “My dear, are you asking me about my experiences?”

“Uh… Just, I seem to recall you mentioning a lot of gentleman’s clubs...” Crowley let their head drop back against the couch and covered their face when Aziraphale chuckled. “Ugh, angel!”

“I won’t judge you, you know,” Aziraphale murmured, smiling tenderly when Crowley looked at them. “If you, uh, found human companionship-”

“No! Ugh, no, it’d be like… no, I can’t help but think of them as children,” Crowley admitted. “Even Nanny Ogg, which tells you something about me I suppose,” they said, making Aziraphale laugh.

“I am in complete agreement with that sentiment,” said Aziraphale. “And it wasn’t just gentleman's clubs I frequented, there were quite a few for women if you knew where to look and who to talk to. You do know a lot more went on in the clubs than just sexual intercourse, don’t you?”

“Yeah, yeah, I should’ve known better, just, uh...” Crowley reached over and took Aziraphale’s hand. “There must have been quite a few poor smitten fools vying for your attention.”

Apple Of My Eye; complete fluff I wrote because of a pic I saw on tumblr

Crowley looked up from their mobile, barely able to contain their grin. “Hey, angel-”

“No.” Aziraphale didn’t even have to look up from the book they were reading to know the former demon was up to no good.

“I haven’t even said anything yet!” Crowley protested, still grinning at seeing the amusement crinkling around the reformed angel's eyes.

Aziraphale looked over at them with a feigned put-upon sigh. One look at Crowley’s grin had them asking, “Oh somebody, do I even want to know?”

If anything, that only made Crowley’s grin grow. “So I’m thinking maybe it’s time I branch out, try some different styles of shades. Whaddya think?”

Aziraphale spluttered into startled laughter when Crowley turned the mobile around, revealing a pair of spectacles where the rose tinted lenses had been shaped into breasts. “Why in the world-”

“Ain’t humans grand?” Crowley said, grinning down at the picture before sliding a sly look at Aziraphale and raising a hand, fingers poised to snap. “I could just…”

“You would too, wouldn’t you,” Aziraphale said with a shake of their head, pretending to go back to reading but watching Crowley sidelong. “Well I would rather you didn’t but I can’t stop you from going around looking, looking like a right proper tit if you want to,” they said with feigned primness, barely hiding their smile when Crowley laughed. “I wouldn’t want you to make a spectacle of yourself.”

“Alright angel, alright, you’ve convinced me. Wouldn’t want to put you off being seen with me.” It was a joke, mostly, and Crowley was still grinning as they said it, but inwardly that age old doubt still lingered.

Aziraphale knew it was there of course, having many of the same insidious worries about their new togetherness, and gave them a fond smile. “I assure you my dear, that having adored you in spite of that dreadful hairstyle you had in Paris, I would barely blink to see you in a pair of breastacles.”

Crowley blushed at the mention of adoration, sneered at mention of the hair and burst into raucous laughter at the name. “Only you’d think up a proper sounding name for it. Breastacles. Brilliant.” They darted in and grinningly kissed them. “And here I thought you’d appreciate me seeing the world through rose-titted glasses. But, as you wish.”