"There's plenty of things you don't know about me. "6,000 years, and I never knew you could cook," the angel commented offhandedly one day while watching Crowley idly grilling salmon steaks for the two of them.Ĭrowley glanced at the angel over his shoulder. So, when going out or ordering in didn't appeal to them, Crowley would make something, which all but floored Aziraphale. Aziraphale had attempted to cook a few times and failed spectacularly, much to Crowley's amusement. Aziraphale was endlessly talkative, especially in the evening, especially with a few glasses of wine in him.Ĭrowley's inconsistent eating habits vanished as well, replaced by seemingly never-ending bouts of London cuisine, and sometimes more exotic fare when it tickled the angel's fancy.
He didn't share Crowley's passion for oblivion and eight hours thereof each night, and upon the angel taking up residence with him, those eight hours quickly diminished to four or three. The angel could barely wrap his head around sleeping-Aziraphale had probably slept less in his entire existence than Crowley had in the past month. Just.doing whatever the hell he felt like doing.īut now, well. Used to parading around naked when he felt like it, sleeping for days at a time. Used to talking to himself to keep his mind occupied and listening to his music as loudly as he liked without any questioning looks from anyone. Used to waking up and going to bed alone. He was used to silence, other than the terrified rustling of his plants and the typical London din outside. He'd never lived with anyone, except for one memorable and brief stint where he'd been hanging around just a touch too much with the Czar's family in the early twentieth century. Each time greeted with a soft smile and a good morning, and Crowley would merely shrug and take his seat across from Aziraphale and they'd eat together and chat back and forth.Īt first it was a bit odd. Sure, he would go to the bookshop, frequently, sometimes get caught up with his reading and staying through the night there, but more often than not, when Crowley woke each morning, stretched languidly, and went to water (read: threaten) his plants, he'd find the angel sat at his kitchen table, nursing a cup of cocoa and some kind of breakfast pastry that he'd bought enough of for both of them. But, then, happy day! It wasn't.Īnd yet, Aziraphale was living with Crowley anyway. One intended on the basis that Aziraphale's bookshop, and the flat above it, was burned into many tiny, tiny ashes. "You can stay at my place." It had been a simple enough offer.
There is like five seconds of Destiel at the end btwĬlever Crossovers & Fantastic Fusions, Delightful Dimension Travel, BL favorites, Our Own Side, Ixnael’s Recommendations, Ixnael’s SFW corner, Shinbi34's Recommendations, Very good Fanfiction, Complete Legendaries (awesome finished fics), For Later, Fics I want to force my friend to read, Whole Ass Novels, Completed Masterpieces Across Fandoms, Crossovers I'm obsessed with, To-Read Stats: Published: Completed: Words: 99362 Chapters: 25/25 Comments: 1786 Kudos: 8454 Bookmarks: 2078 Hits: 128910.Crowley (Good Omens) is Not Crowley (Supernatural).Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett.
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