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Oct. 3rd, 2003 09:53 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tammaiyaHAPPY 17th BIRTHDAY, JILL!
*waves streamers*
And, as promised: GO fic! Dedicated to
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minkhollow, as a birthday present!Warnings: Utter, sheer, DISGUSTINGLY sweet sap.
“Do you know what day it is?”
Crowley stared at the angel in something akin to sheer bewilderment. As Aziraphale’s slightly put-out expression was giving no clues, he decided to hazard a guess. “Er… Friday?”
“No!” Aziraphale snapped, and then paused. “Well, I mean, yes. But that’s not what I had in mind.”
Oh, great. The angel was going to get himself into a total snit if Crowley didn’t get this right and soon. Problem was, he didn’t have the slightest clue what the angel was on about. Was it a public holiday? No, people were no more angry than usual. He couldn’t really think of any reason why Aziraphale would want to remind him of anything like that, anyway. If he didn’t know, he couldn’t spread evil. So. That was out, then.
Maybe it was an anniversary of some description? That was certainly a thought. It had nothing to do with being sent to Earth; the 6000-year anniversary for that had come and gone. He was pretty sure it wasn’t the anniversary for the near-Armageddon, either. So what in the name of G… of something was Aziraphale on about?
Aziraphale was still looking at him pointedly, and there was an awkward silence where it was clear that one party was waiting for the other party to say something in particular. Crowley shrugged helplessly, and then flinched as the angel slapped him hard across the face. “Hey! Ow! You can’t do that, that’s un-angelic!”
“So?” Aziraphale spat. “You’re a demon. I’m thwarting. Now go AWAY, Crowley.”
Turning, the normally dithering angel stalked into a back room of his bookshop and slammed the door loudly behind him. He didn’t get into a temper very often, and when he did, he often had problems holding onto his humanity. He always tried to portray himself as a clumsy if well-meaning humble shopkeeper, but just then he had been anything but. There’d been that telltale pure nimbus that Crowley could never decide to love or loathe, and the angel’s movements had made him look… well, graceful. Graceful, elegant, and dangerous, almost like a tiger.
Crowley raised his eyebrows. If Aziraphale’s disguise was slipping that badly, he was absolutely hopping mad. “What’s his problem?”
Sauntering over to the counter where Aziraphale had been standing a minute ago, he cast his eyes around idly until they landed on a piece of paper lying apart from all the piles of books and mess.
Curiously, Crowley flipped it over, and scanned it for anything of interest. Odd… Aziraphale had been drawing, it seemed. A picture of a red rose, of all things. It was quite good, but Crowley wasn’t particularly surprised. As an angel, Aziraphale could naturally do anything perfectly (except, apparently, be an angel). Both of them found the effort lay in having faults, in fact. It must be important, if Azirphale hadn't held back. Aside from that, it was only notable by the fact that the angel had drawn it at all. Well, that, and it had today’s date written next and underlined several times in red-pen.
Crowley frowned, perplexed. What was so special about today? And what the hel- hea-…
What on Earth did that rose have to do with anything? It had to be connected. Aziraphale wasn’t a doodler, and he wouldn’t put the two things on the same page for no reason.
A rose… a rose. There was something tickling at the edge of his memory, and Crowley concentrated fiercely on it, willing it not to slip away. ‘A rose by any other name…?’ No, that didn’t sound right. Shakespearean verse, but Crowley doubted all this was brought on by anything to do with the dead playwright. As attached to Will as the angel had been, Crowley was pretty sure he wouldn’t be copping this much flack just for forgetting something like Shakespeare’s birthday or death day, or whatever.
Crowley’s frown deepened as his gazed at the paper, almost absent-mindedly creating a rose in the image of the drawing laid before him. Twirling the stem in his fingers, he let his eyes glaze over. He began to get the very uneasy feeling that he was missing something important, a colossal oversight that Aziraphale may never forgive him for. Well, not for several centuries, anyway.
Crowley’s hand tightened around the stalk at the thought, an aborted attempt to destroy the rose for defying him. A sudden stab of pain swiftly brought his mind back to focus, however. Opening his hand, he realised the thorns had pricked him, and that the blood had pooled slightly in his palm. As he watched it, it dribbled down and dripped to the paper, staining it crimson.
Eyes widening, Crowley dipped a finger gently in the blood on his hand and stared at it. Memories at the back of his mind surfaced, images of an angel giving a demon a rose as he said ‘I love you’ for the first time. The demon, too stunned to be careful with the thorns, pricking his hand. The angel licking the blood away, kissing the demon gently, tasting like heaven but with the tang of the demon’s blood mixing in the tastes of hell.
‘Even demons bleed, Crowley.’
It was just like Aziraphale to say something so innocuous after taking the most unexpected course of action. Crowley had stayed frozen, attempting to glare but far too confused. Now that he thought about it, he remembered it down to every little word and action.
‘Why?’
‘Why what?’
‘Why the ROSE, angel. Are you impugning my masculinity?’
‘…Pardon? Crowley, you’re an immortal! I thought you didn’t have any masculinity?’
‘Hey!’
‘Sorry, dear.’ An expectant pause. ‘Well?’
‘Well what?’ A very angelic glare. ‘Oh. OH. Yes. Right. Well, lovely of you, I’m sure, but-’
‘But what?’
‘I, er, sort of have several thorns embedded in my palm, and… well, they hurt. And they’re rather detracting from the gravity of the situation, not to mention the fact that they’re distracting me.’
Another pause, this one embarrassed. ‘Oh. Sorry. Right, well I’ll just…’
Aziraphale had healed him, and after that there had been a new element to their relationship. Ie, the bit with the kisses. Overall, it was a very satisfactory situation.
It had been a year to the day since then. Crowley hadn’t paid attention to the date; he was so used to counting in years, decades, centuries, that the days had ceased to matter. Aziraphale always noticed the little things, though. The smallest animal, flower, detail; the angel would notice. And Crowley had forgotten their anniversary. His first thoughts had been of the Earth, the near-Armageddon, and he’d never even considered the most obvious answer. It was no wonder that Aziraphale was upset with him, really.
Sighing, he meandered over to the door and rapped against it with his knuckles gently.
“Aziraphale?” Crowley called quietly.
There was a silence, and then a sullen voice greeted him. “Yes? What do you want, Crowley?”
Pushing the door open, Crowley walked over and knelt in front of Aziraphale, laying the bloodstained rose in the angel’s lap. Aziraphale met his eyes, expression one of hope mingled with suspicion, and they flickered with surprise when Crowley reached out to grasp one of the angel’s hands with his own bloody one.
“Angel,” Crowley stated sincerely, “I love you.”
He’d never said it, before. It made him uncomfortable; he was, after all, a demon. More than that, he was… well, Crowley. But before Aziraphale had a chance to say anything or even register the shock, Crowley pushed forward and caught him in a kiss.
When he pulled back, he smiled, only a trace of his usual smirk. “Happy Anniversary, Aziraphale.”
Edit: Thank you,
sanguia, for the use of your mad beta-ing sKiLLz.
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Date: 2003-10-03 12:33 pm (UTC)I just read lots.
I now want to be a fully fledged member of adrian's fanclub. Can you arrange this?
Leather...pirate...eyeliner....
*fans self*
I think I was partly confused because I thought Imp was an icnograph imp. *hangs head in shame* Its been THAT long since I read Soul Music. (That was my first Discworld novel.)
In short...
I love ImpxAdrian forever.
"But whatever happens, you'll be there, right?"
"Yes, love, I wille be."
*explodes*
GIVE ME MORE SAP.
<3<3<3<3<3<3
And I LOVE that lil fiction, though I dont know the characters. >.< Still, *squees*
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Date: 2003-10-03 12:37 pm (UTC)And you haven't read Good Omens? You DEFINITELY should. It is by Neil Gaiman and the Pterry himself!
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Date: 2003-10-03 06:26 pm (UTC)Glad you're enjoying our hard work.
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Date: 2003-10-04 01:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-10-03 04:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-10-03 04:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-10-03 06:25 pm (UTC)Thanks muchly.
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Date: 2003-10-04 01:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-10-04 01:47 am (UTC)