Work Text:
Good Omens - Another Day in the Life.
Author: The Magic Rat
Rating: PG
Pairings: Crowley/Aziraphale
Warnings: Silliness, strong language, Monty Python references.
Word Count: 1911
Website – Ex Libris: http://www.winter-wood.net/ex-libris/index.html
Live Journal: http://delaese.livejournal.com/profile
Disclaimer: All Good Omens characters, places and situations are the property of Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett, and are used without permission and without intent of plagiarism or profit. Copyright for all stories and original characters is with the author, and may not be published, copied, distributed or archived without the author's prior written consent.
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale try gardening.
Author’s notes: I'd be careful about eating and drinking during this one.
For the Ineffable NumberThirteen.
"I've No More F***s to Give!" (c) Thomas Benjamin Wild Esq. Check him out on YouTube, he's awesome!
~*~*~*~*~*~
Tuesday, April 7, 10:43 AM -
"Angel?"
"Yes, dear boy?"
"Am I drunk?"
I had been sitting on the couch, a cup of tea on hand, book on my lap. Crowley was standing in the doorway, surrounded by sunlight, his body a dark silhouette. He was gazing at something in the distance.
"No I don't believe so."
"Drugged?"
"Definitely not."
"Running a fever? Having a nightmare?"
"None of the above, why do you ask?"
"Just trying to think of a reason for why I'm seeing what I'm seeing."
I set aside my book, rose to my feet, and went to his side. We watched as Mrs. Mudlark, Mrs. Marigold, and Mrs. Hatter brawled in the mud in the field just beyond our door, smacking each other soundly with their handbags.
"Oh," I said. "That would be the battle of Pearl Harbour, I believe."
We watched the trio grapple and brawl for a time, complete with a sound track of smacks, whacks, wallops, and thuds. Then Crowley shut the door.
"Well that's enough of that. Y'know it terrifies me that you actually knew what piece of Python-induced madness inspired that behaviour."
"Well I've always been fond of large snakes."
I swear I could actually hear Crowley perk up with interest.
"Really? How large?"
"Oh about twelve feet, black and red, with a cute little nose."
Lately he and I have become a little more intense and obvious in our flirting. To be honest it terrifies me. I know the basic mechanics of sex, but Crowley has actually had it, and I'm worried that I will be an utter failure at it. But I'm done putting him off. He's perfectly willing to let me progress at my own pace, the least I can do is show him I'm willing to move a little faster than a dead snail. I'm sure I'll get around to soundly disappointing him soon enough.
11:29 AM -
Crowley's had a thought. I know he has because he stopped dead in his tracks, stared ahead at nothing for a few moments, then left. I have no idea what he's up to. I think I'll sit in the garden awhile and read, and see what blows up.
1:15 PM -
Stolas has popped by. Why, I do not know. Crowley retains many of the friendships he had when he was still in the Devil's favour. I don't mind Stolas. He teaches the arts of astronomy, and the lore of herbs and precious stones. Frankly I don't understand why he's in Hell, he seems a gentle enough fellow. Though he can give you a bit of a turn since he generally appears as a five foot tall owl with staring eyes, long legs, and a little crown. Still I do keep in mind he's a demon, as well as a Prince of Hell. Currently he's standing on the garden wall, watching Mrs. Marigold watch him with binoculars. She'll have an awful time figuring out what sort of bird she saw. I don't think he's mentioned by the Audubon Society.
1:23 PM -
I offered Stolas tea and biscuits, which is just the right thing to do with a guest. Mrs. Marigold is now being stared at unblinkingly by a five foot tall owl on the garden wall, slowly sipping tea from a cup clutched in its right foot.
1:31 PM -
Well I found out why Stolas is here. Crowley decided that I needed a greenhouse, complete with a variety of tea plants. That includes a beautiful Camellia sinensis plant, from which Oolong tea is made. He and Stolas are going to teach me to care for them, though, knowing Crowley, I suspect he will be doing the majority of the tending. I don't care. Crowley and I began moving plants into the greenhouse, which I don't believe was there in the garden when I woke up this morning. Stolas is watching us and nibbling a scone. He's a prince; he doesn't move large dirty objects.
1:55 PM -
So Michael has shown up, because apparently an angel and two demons can't garden in peace. Michael asked what we were up to. I said we were trying to form a sigil for the summoning of earth worms and to grab a shovel. Honestly I don't care anymore; they tried to boil Crowley in holy water and roast me in hellfire, what business is it of theirs if we spend a day in the sun planting herbs? We're not doing anything evil.
Michael did not grab a shovel. Michael grabbed tea and biscuits. Now I have an archangel and a prince of Hell watching me dump manure into plant boxes while Crowley threatens a rose bush.
3:20 PM -
Mrs. Mudlark just showed up. Because of course she did.
3:37 PM -
Stolas just bit Mrs. Mudlark. But that's what you get when you tell a demonic prince not to eat up all the biscuits, and he is a bad birdie for doing so. Princes of Hell bite hard. You should never try to take their biscuit. Mrs. Mudlark clobbered Stolas with her hand bag. She suggested that Stolas be plucked and served roasted, and said he was a very naughty boy. Michael fell over laughing. Stolas bit Michael. I said I would serve afternoon tea if everybody would please just stop biting and threatening to roast one another. Michael punched Stolas in the beak, and Crowley did a fast miracle to get them out of the greenhouse before they destroyed it. I now have a prince of Hell, an archangel, and a disgruntled church lady just beyond the gate of my yard doing a fabulous re-enactment of the Batley Townswomen's Guild.
3:45 PM -
Well news must travel very fast indeed because Gabriel just showed up, and he is not wearing his happy face...if indeed he even possesses one. He's carrying his trumpet, and I note that it is not his silver one, nor even his gold one. It is his platinum one with the pink diamond and mother of pearl inlay, which means he is indeed very peeved. He blew it as hard as he could, and that ended the debate. Stolas flew back to Hell, Michael nearly had a coronary, and Mrs. Mudlark fled for her very life. Gabriel demanded to know what Crowley and I did to start the fight, and I said "Gardening." His answer? "I might have known."
Apparently he is going to get HR involved in this.
5:01 PM -
I was seated on the couch when the HR angel showed up to sort what happened earlier. Crowley was dozing with his head on my lap, and I had covered him with a blanket. The angel was very young; probably new to the job. He was very sweet and entirely too naive. He seated himself cross-legged on the floor, gazing at Crowley with shining eyes.
"Oh you've got a pet human! I always wanted one, but I hear they can be a bit irrational. Hello, Petal, how are you?" He reached out to give Crowley a few pets, then asked "So where is your demon?"
Crowley's eyes opened, glowing ominously as he stared at the angel. The angel stared back. Then Crowley gave him the snake-face snarl, forcing the angel back in shock.
"This is Crowley," I said.
Crowley sat up. "Did you honestly just call me 'Petal'?"
"It's all right," I said, "he didn't mean any harm, Petal."
I suddenly had Crowley's full attention.
"NO! You are NOT going to make that nickname stick! I don't care that I'm not welcome in Hell any longer, you are NOT going to saddle me with the nickname 'Petal'!"
"All right," I said meekly, giving him the Big Wet Angel Eyes. Crowley went Full Drama, rising off the couch to roar at me, eyes blazing.
"WHY do you do this to me?! WHY?! WHY ARE YOU GOING TO SADDLE ME WITH THAT NICKNAME?!"
"It's adorable," I said, "like you."
I watched him stare at me, his expression somewhere between defeat and the urge to choke me.
"You're going to eat my brains one day, aren't you?" I said.
"YES! AND I WILL BE VERY SAD AFTERWARDS BUT I WILL!"
He sat down beside me and allowed me to draw him into a snuggle, but he wasn't quite done snarling and growling yet. I looked to the young angel, who was staring at the pair of us as if I were completely mad.
"Now," I addressed him, holding a seething demon. "How may I help you?"
He stared at Crowley, his expression one of concern. "Well we need to know who started the fight."
"Mrs. Mudlark," I said. "Everyone was behaving reasonably until she showed up and called Stolas a bad birdie. Things just sort of escalated from there. Crowley and I were having a perfectly lovely day in the beautiful new greenhouse he gave me, and others showed up just to complicate things."
"Oh. Well that's unfortunate. Still we will have to report this incident and..."
Crowley stood up. He snapped his fingers and a banjo appeared. He then proceeded to play it as he wandered out of the room and into the garden, singing.
"I've no more fucks to give, my fucks have runneth dry.
I've tried to go fuck shopping but there's no fucks left to buy.
I've no more fucks to give, though more fucks I've tried to get.
I'm over my fuck budget and I'm now in fucking debt."
I decided to go join him. Crowley and I miracled up some beer, sat on the garden wall, and sang "I've No More Fucks to Give." Because we don't.
11:43 PM -
We sang a while, we drank, we cuddled. Honestly why did I waste all those years denying myself this arrangement? For what? Never again. There is more fulfillment in having Crowley at my side than there ever was in all the duties I performed.
There's a full moon out tonight. I think I shall leave the curtains open, just so I can look at him in the light as he sleeps.
Wednesday, April 8, 3:15 AM -
From all the way across the field, far in the distance, I just heard Stolas bellow through Mrs. Mudlark's window "HOO HOO MUTHERFUCKER!"
Crowley and I lay in bed, listening to the distant sound of a prince of Hell and an old church lady brawl in the mud, complete with the thud of a hand bag meeting feathers.
"Do you think we should plant pumpkins?" asked Crowley. "I like pumpkins."
"Yes," I said. "Let's plant pumpkins."