#time loop!

- Fake relationship;

- Enemies to lovers;

- There was only one bed;

- Sex pollen; and/or

- Time loop.

(I literally found a list of these on reddit because the minute I tried to think of anything, my mind blanked…there are probably like 15 more I’d ask about but I’ll restrain myself.)

So many excellent options.

Fake relationship: Definitely A. The pining and yearning inherent in this trope is off the charts, and I love reading about two idiots pretending to be in love while definitely being in love. It's great.

Enemies to lovers: C. I feel like the majority of enemies to lovers is really two people annoyed with each other to lovers, which hey one of my favorite dynamics to write is to annoying assholes in love, but that is definitely not enemies. I'm generalizing here but a lot of enemies to lovers tends to just skip over the middle part of falling in love and learning to trust each other to get to the lovers part even though the middle part is the whole point of this trope. It's the conflict! The wariness! The shifting feelings! The reluctant affection!If you're not going to go all the way in then what's the point?

There is only one bed: A. Again it's about the pining and the yearning and waking up to find they're all tangled together. This is the good shit.

Sex pollen: Another C. I've read some good sex pollen fic and bad sex pollen fic, but it's not something I specifically set out to find. A lot of it is an excuse to write porn, which I'm all for, but also I like feelings with my porn but mostly what I like is complex and conflicted feelings in the aftermath, and that's harder to find in fic.

What would the first thing you wanna do if stuck in a time loop?

Banjo practice. I'm terrible at keeping up with that but if I get stuck in a time loop you bet your bottom dollar I'm coming out pickin' like Earl Scruggs himself.

Probably also would work on my people skills. I've become weird and reclusive as of late so I'd love some no pressure practice being around humans again.

*ten minutes later*

always crashing (in the same car)

mayhawk

Summary:

During a fight with Aziraphale, Crowley pauses time and goes back to the Bentley to sleep it off (and come up with a really great comeback). When he wakes up the next morning, it’s still Wednesday. Again. Somehow, he’s gotten them stuck in a time loop. It’s Wednesday, every day. Great. Just great. (Aziraphale puts his book down and takes a big breath and Crowley comes to attention. “Do you ever think,” he says, and Crowley can tell he’s been thinking about this for a long time, for a whole Wednesday, at least. “Do you ever think that perhaps this is an opportunity to - to do whatever it is you wanted?”) Set between seasons 1 and 2, canon-compliant with season 2.

Rating: M

One Wednesday in May Crowley and Aziraphale have a nasty fight, because Aziraphale is stubborn and bullheaded and absolutely infuriating. It’s entirely Aziraphale’s fault, of course. Even though it’s been nearly a year since the Apocalypse-that-wasn’t didn’t happen, and in that time, it’s been made crystal clear Heaven doesn’t want Aziraphale anymore,1 Aziraphale is still so concerned about what they might think. It chafes at Crowley like a poorly fitting hair-shirt.2 Crowley just wants Aziraphale to be his own angel, to think for himself. Crowley knows he does, somewhere in that fuzzy white head of his. He’s seen it hundreds of times. Like when they’d stopped Armageddon, together. Or when Aziraphale had given away his blasted sword all those years ago. It’s in there, the strong core of Aziraphale. He just won’t let it out. Which is where Crowley comes in.

They’d had a great evening. Crowley’s favorite kind of evening. One of the quiet ones, one of the - the them ones. Aziraphale had called him up around ten that morning and had said there was a new little sushi restaurant in Covent Garden he rather wanted to try, and was Crowley free that evening? Turned out, Crowley was. Crowley was pretty much free every evening. Unemployed and homeless, that’s what he was. Not that Aziraphale knew any of that. The restaurant had been a new one, blanketed with hanging plants dangling from the ceiling, creating a dense, thick green carpet. The lighting was dim enough to be comfortable and the wine decent enough, if it was improved with a miracle, and Aziraphale had actually moaned when he’d sampled his first piece of sashimi. Crowley had watched him fold a piece of sushi into his mouth, tongue first, and mused that, if he hadn’t thought it would’ve gotten dragged him down to Hell and punished, he could’ve suggested Hell add to their torture rosters.

Afterwards, Crowley drives Aziraphale back to the bookshop, and of course Aziraphale invites him in for another drink, and of course he accepts, because what else does he have to do for the rest of the evening? Find a new street to park the Bentley on until Aziraphale wants him again? Go to the park and hide in the bushes to hiss at unsuspecting couples?3 So he goes into the shop, and it’s as it always is, warmly lit, full of Aziraphale’s clutter and the smell of musty old books and Aziraphale, the angel’s scent swelling to fill the space like incense. It’s - cozy. Crowley drops to his place on the sofa, hollowed out over the years like an animal’s den to fit him perfectly, and if he happens to glance up and catch the faintest hint of a smile in Aziraphale’s eyes well, he doesn’t mention it and neither does the angel. They’re good at that, living in the margins. He had hoped that after they’d both been effectively fired, the two of them now firmly on their own side, he’d thought maybe Aziraphale would - well. No matter.4

So they start drinking, and Aziraphale pulls the chess board over and they play a few turns, but then they get distracted arguing about Sir Francis Dashwood, and somehow they get onto the topic of Heaven, and Crowley should know better, okay, he knows this is a fraught topic between the two of them, but there’s some infinitely stupid part of him - the part of him that’s always gotten him in trouble, the part that picks and picks at things, that wants to understand, to uncover - that doesn’t know when to let well enough alone.

Continue reading the first chapter at: