All the fic

[beehammer]

So I've spent the past six weeks doing little but writing Good Omens fic, as you do, when it's too hot to do anything and it's raining every day anyway and your ISP takes one week of that to get you back online when your box gives out.

So, without further ado:

Back Room
T-rated, 5.6k Aziraphale/Crowley

Aziraphale actually does have quite an extensive collection of pornography in the bookshop. Like most of the questionable things in Aziraphale’s life, it’s Crowley’s fault.

Ink Stains
M-rated, 6.1k Aziraphale/Crowley

Angels can sense love. Too bad they can also sense when there’s a decided lack of it. Crowley’s motives behind putting in an appearance are, as always, somewhat questionable.

Downpour
T-rated, 8.8k Aziraphale/Crowley

Crowley and the cold make for one hell of a combination, and Aziraphale could have gone another six thousand years without knowing it.

---

“You show up after hours, out of the blue and frozen half-solid, drip a gallon of rain water all over my kitchenette, and all I get by way of explanation is a half-hearted ngh,” Aziraphale sighed.

“‘s what I get for--” Crowley shuddered, and Aziraphale reached up and tugged the blankets back into place. “--taking public transport.”

Cry for Absolution
T-rated, 20k Aziraphale/Crowley

After spending six thousand years in Aziraphale’s company, the only thing Crowley’s sure of is that he can’t touch the angel without hurting him. Too bad he never bothered asking Aziraphale about it.

---

If Crowley could still feel the soft give of rich cloth under his clenched fists, surely Aziraphale could still feel the scorching heat of a demon’s hands on his skin.

If they made it out of this alive, Crowley decided, if there was anything left of the world afterwards, he’d be damned a second time if he ever put his hands on the angel again.

Come in from the Cold
E-rated, 7.5k Aziraphale/Crowley

Crowley’s little demonic miracle with the books lets Aziraphale stop worrying about whether or not Crowley loves him back and just get on with it for once.

---

Any other night, Aziraphale might have let Crowley go, circled back to him in a bit, tried to mend things without being too forward about it. But it was tonight, and Aziraphale had come perilously close to being discorporated for God only knew how long, and Crowley had still, after all this time, thought to save his books--and Crowley was still, after all this time, thinking about holy water.

They've all got their pining and angst and getting together, and there's more where that came from because it's still too hot and rainy to do much of anything.