literature

Good Omens: Love Thine Enemy Ch. 3

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            Aaaaare you gonna take me home tonight?

            Aaaww, down beside that red firelight?

            Aaaaare you gonna let it all hang out—

            “Ugh. No, thank you.” Aziraphale reached up to switch the station of the radio which sat on the counter next to him. Queen wasn’t his musical cup of tea to begin with, and after hearing it so often in Crowley’s car, his patience with the band was almost non-existent. As soft jazz floated out from the device’s speakers (not perfect, but an improvement), the angel shivered and pulled his sweater tighter, turning his attention back to the book in his hands. He could see his own breath in front of him; the temperature in his bookstore was almost as abysmally cold as it was outside. This was just one of the many methods he implemented in order to keep the store and the books therein to himself. He wasn’t exactly comfortable, but he had dressed in layers that morning, so he could bear it.

            When he heard the door open, he glanced up with little concern to find a bespectacled young woman with a scarf wrapped around her face. Their eyes met, and he smiled tightly. As she began to peruse the shelves and racks surrounding, his eyes narrowed. He never greeted her or asked what she might be looking for; he certainly didn’t want to encourage her to buy something. She didn’t seem too intent on her search, only skimming over the titles which were easily visible so she didn’t have to remove her hands from her pockets. Soon enough, the cold weather got to her, and she hurried out of the store with a shiver, leaving the angel smirking smugly. It wasn’t that he wanted to keep the content of his books from the humans who might benefit from it. However, the books themselves were precious, and as long as they were with him, he knew they would be properly respected.

            Hours passed in relative silence, and he was nearly half-way through his current book when the door opened once more. He looked up in irritation to find a much more welcome visitor.

            “Geez, angel, it’s a meat-locker in here,” Crowley grumped as he stepped inside. “They’re books, not steaks…”

            “Sorry,” the angel answered, laying his book on the counter. “Where have you been?” He easily masked over his delight at seeing the demon, though it had been more than two weeks since they’d last seen each other.

            “Here and there,” his friend (ahem, his lover, that is) answered. He looked uncomfortable, bundled up in his coat. “Spent some time in Ireland, talked to people about the stability treaty; they are not happy. You know. Working my wiles.” When he reached Aziraphale’s side, he wrapped his arms tightly around the angel and sighed against his neck. Aziraphale shivered and anxiously leaned his head against Crowley’s.

            “You’re freezing!” he exclaimed as his cheek brushed a bit of exposed skin. The demon looked up at him blankly.

            “It’s cold out.”

            “Even so, you shouldn’t be so—” Oh. “You really are cold-blooded!”

            “Sure,” Crowley muttered as he nuzzled his face into the warmth of the angel’s neck. A smile crossed his lips; this was much better than staying in his own bed with the heater turned up. “I told you.”

            “Will you be all right?” Aziraphale bit his lip, trying not to protest the frigid touch against his skin. Rather than answering his question, Crowley straightened up and kissed him fiercely, almost knocking him out of his chair. After recovering from the shock and letting himself enjoy it for a few moments, the angel forced himself to break away. “Ahem…s-someone could see us…”

            “I have to warm up somehow,” Crowley breathed against his throat. “Otherwise, I’ll freeze to death. You don’t want that on your conscience.”

            “You won’t actually die…”

            “No, but it’d be pretty inconvenient. For both of us.” When he realized that his argument wasn’t getting much of a response, he changed tactics. “What are you reading?”

            The Dream of the Apprentice,” the angel answered automatically. “It’s a…fantasy novel.”

            “So let’s go in the back and get comfortable, and you can read it to me.” Something about this suggestion struck a chord with Aziraphale. Crowley had never before expressed an interest in having anything to do with his beloved books. Reading aloud…he’d done so before, but never with an audience. The way he saw it, his books were sacred, and sharing them felt very…intimate.

            “Would you actually pay attention?” the angel asked dubiously.

            “Cross my heart. As long as you’re doing the same,” Crowley snickered. It took a moment more for Aziraphale to decide.

            “All right, then.” Before leaving the room, he locked the shop door and turned his OPEN sign to CLOSED. Satisfied that his collection was safe for another day, he retrieved his book and Crowley, and they adjourned to the back room. Against the wall, there sat an aged sofa which had been used many a time as a place for a certain demon and angel to convene and get really sodding drunk. It was upholstered in fading maroon velveteen, and the cushions had been sinking in for years, making it rather difficult to get out of. Well-loved, one might call it. Aziraphale did. After he’d made himself comfortable, Crowley removed his coat and stretched his long body across the length of the sofa, lying with his head resting on the angel’s leg.

            “Ahem…” Aziraphale flushed slightly at his informality and cleared his throat. “I suppose I should start from the beginning.”

            “I would appreciate that,” the demon agreed, yellow eyes peeking over the top of his shades. Aziraphale hadn’t considered that he would have to stop his own progress…but he supposed it was a necessary evil. As he began to read, his voice was crisp and clear, enunciating each word and reading as though he was simply telling a story. He never faltered, never stuttered, and he’d gone through four chapters before he was interrupted.

            “Bollocks,” Crowley muttered, drawing the angel’s attention.

            “I beg your pardon?”

            “The whole idea of royals abdicating the throne so someone else can have it,” he explained. “It’s hard for me to imagine anyone would actually do that.”

            “You would be surprised. Sometimes, humans do…inconceivable things.” Aziraphale glanced down at the demon. “May I continue?”

            “Please.” It had bothered him slightly to be interrupted, but as the angel went on reading and Crowley continued to comment here and there, they actually began to form discussions on the book itself. Such a thing was quite unusual for Aziraphale; he had never had anyone with whom he might compose thoughts on a piece of literature. Much to his surprise, Crowley raised points that he himself hadn’t considered. Soon, he found himself pausing after each chapter to hear what his lover had to say and to offer his own views, which almost invariably differed from Crowley’s. The book was held in one hand, and his other found its way to the demon’s hair, slowly combing through the dark locks.

            The two grew so immersed in their book and conversation, closed off from the rest of the world, that they hardly noticed the passage of time at all. They stayed just where they were until they’d finished the book, and Aziraphale set it aside. At that point, Crowley sat up and stretched, popping his neck and checking his watch.

            “Uh-oh,” Crowley chuckled. “We’re breaking tradition; it’s 6 in the morning. Should I go?”

            “Very funny,” the angel answered flatly. “You’re welcome to stay…if you prefer.”

            “Twist my arm, why don’t you. But what’ll we do now?” A wicked grin curved the demon’s mouth; he had a few ideas about how they might stay occupied. Aziraphale didn’t answer, but he moved closer on the couch. A step in the right direction. Just as Crowley was about to make a move, the angel curled up and leaned his head against the demon’s shoulder.

            “Thank you for staying like this. It was nice,” he said quietly, trying to hide his blushing. “I mean…letting me read to you. I enjoyed it.” Crowley wasn’t sure how to respond; he had forgotten what a bibliophile the angel was. Of course something like this would be a big deal to him.

            “It’s no problem,” he answered after a moment. “You know I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t like it, too.” Aziraphale laughed at his bluntness.

            “No, I don’t suppose you would have.”

            “Would you still have been reading if I hadn’t stayed?” the demon asked, leaning back in his seat, crossing his ankles.

            “Oh, certainly. That’s how I spend most of my nights. There’s always something new to read, my dear.”

            “So, you never sleep, do you?”

            “Not often. I have, of course, but…fewer than ten times in all my years. Each time I try, I always feel there’s something more productive I could be doing with my time.”

            “Like doing your nails,” Crowley offered helpfully, and Aziraphale gave him a sharp look.

            “For your information, I don’t ‘do’ them. And I daresay you could use a manicure yourself.” He cast a disdainful gaze down at Crowley’s rather short nails, but the demon was laughing.

            “Sheath the daggers, angel; I’m only joking. Tell me, what do you do when you finish a book?” Aziraphale’s look softened, and he cocked his head slightly.

            “I start another.”

            “Ugh.” Crowley rolled his eyes; for all his desire to stay on Earth, it seemed the angel didn’t do much with his life.

            “You should really read more, you know. You might find you like it more than you expect.”

            “Well, you can help me to that end. Fair enough?” Aziraphale smiled bashfully.

            “If that’s what I have to do, so be it.” He stole a glance at Crowley’s watch himself, then got to his feet. “Come with me.”

            “Where are we going?” Crowley asked, standing nevertheless.

            “Upstairs. You’ll want this.” The angel handed him his coat and then led the way, refusing to explain any further. When they reached his flat, he paused for only a moment to retrieve a brightly-colored afghan blanket from his couch before continuing up the stairs.

            “Are we…going to the roof?” Crowley asked as they climbed.

            “Yes. The sun will be rising soon.” The angel seemed very excited for some reason. As they stepped out onto the roof, the cold air bit at their skin, and Crowley frowned. Was a sunrise worth his freezing to death? Then the angel reached up and draped his blanket over the serpent’s shoulders. “Is that better?” The idyllic look on his face was one that Crowley couldn’t bring himself to argue with, so he nodded, despondent; so much for the idea of sharing body heat. Now that he was satisfied his lover was safe, Aziraphale went to the wall at the edge of the roof and gazed outward. The sky was already a light blue, and the horizon was a long line of orange, broken here and there by buildings taller than theirs. After a moment, Crowley came to stand next to him, and he cleared his throat, moving a bit closer.

            “I suppose you spend your mornings in bed at this hour,” he mused quietly.

            “Mm-hm.”

            “Hm. I try to take moments like this now and then to appreciate what He created,” the angel continued, hoping he wasn’t being too preachy. “How it all falls together so nicely…” The sun finally began to break over the horizon, and Aziraphale found his hand being held by Crowley’s.

            “Ineffable,” the demon said quietly, and his lover smiled slightly once more. This was nicer than he’d anticipated. Here he was, observing one of the things he loved so much about Earth…and even sharing it with someone. Someone who, conveniently enough, already knew him and his quirks, his preferences. Someone whose chilled fingers felt very natural curled around his. In Aziraphale’s mind, moments like this were terribly romantic, and they mustn’t be overlooked.

            And then Crowley collapsed. The angel glanced down at him and muttered, “Oh, dear.”

            “Thanks…for your concern,” the demon grumbled, writhing on the ground as Aziraphale knelt next to him.

            “What’s the matter?”

            “Too cold,” he answered with some difficulty, and the angel felt a pang of guilt.

            “That’s my fault…isn’t it? I’m sorry. Come inside, and I’ll—”

            “Problem,” the demon muttered. “Can’t move. C’mere.” With a nod of his head, he beckoned Aziraphale closer. And what choice did he have? If Crowley was incapacitated and it was his fault, that made it his responsibility to see him made well. So the angel crawled under the blanket next to his lover, lying close to him in an effort to warm him up.

            “Better…?” he asked as his head rested on Crowley’s shoulder. The serpent grinned roguishly.

            “Much.” The next thing Aziraphale knew, he was on his back, and his lover was kneeling over him with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

            “You said…” The angel quickly came a conclusion: “You deceived me.” Crowley shrugged.

            “I’m a demon.” Their lips met again, fingers entwined, and Aziraphale felt warmer already. A sound met his ears, something he’d never heard before. Upon realizing that that deep and ardent sound had come from Crowley’s mouth, he blushed a bit darker and felt a shiver of—what could he call what he was feeling? Desire… Somehow, his arms were around the demon’s neck, holding him closer, but as Crowley’s chest pressed against his, their hips brushed, and Aziraphale was forced to free his mouth.

            “Crowley,” he gasped, his tone a mix between longing and apprehension—and Crowley only heard half of it.

            “Angel,” he purred in reply. The word was less a statement of fact and more a…term of endearment that made Aziraphale’s chest feel warm. The demon’s lips found his pulse and kissed it hotly, only making him fidget more, struggling to decide what he wanted.

            “M-my dear, please…just a moment…” Aziraphale implored, pushing at Crowley’s shoulders. Though he was horribly reluctant, the demon pulled back for a moment. His shades had slipped down his nose, and now he pushed them up into his hair, effectively sweeping his bangs away from his forehead and allowing his sharp gaze to meet with the angel’s.

            “All right?” he asked softly, and the blond gave a very small nod. Both were breathing heavily, and their breath rose in small clouds in the chilly morning air.

            “We should probably go inside,” Aziraphale said at length, reaching up to touch his lover’s cheek and finding it freezing, as expected. Because of his lowered body temperature, Crowley perceived the angel’s fingers as being very warm, and he moved into the touch.

            “Sure, okay,” he muttered, though he made no move to stand.

            “…ahem.” It was only after Aziraphale cleared his throat that the demon came to his senses and stood up, offering his hand to help his lover to his feet. As they returned to the angel’s flat, Crowley took off his coat once more and shivered strongly, but Aziraphale made a sound of skepticism. “Fool me once, shame on you…”

            “Suppose I don’t want to fool you,” Crowley suggested as he made himself quite comfortable on the couch, resting in the corner and draping his arms across the sides. “You don’t want to be close to me, is that it?”

            “Of course not!” His response was a little too quick. He looked away from Crowley’s eyes and sighed. They were both adults by any standards; couldn’t they be mature about this? “It’s nothing to do with you. I’m just…not sure.”

            “About what?” the demon asked patiently.

            “This. That is…” Brown eyes drifted down toward Crowley’s lips, and he felt his face grow hot. He continued quietly, “It isn’t being with you that makes me nervous.”

            “Just when I try to touch you.” In order to demonstrate, Crowley reached up and took hold of his angel’s hand, pulling the flustered Aziraphale down into his lap.

            “…something like that…” The angel’s fingers picked at the edges of the scarf around his neck. Then he realized that maybe he wasn’t just warm from Crowley’s attention. With an exasperated sigh, he removed his scarf and lay it next to them on the couch. It was soon followed by his sweater and the vest underneath, leaving him in only one more layer and much more comfortable.

            And then Crowley’s fingers touched the topmost button on his shirt. With a definite sense of purpose about him, the demon was very slowly undoing each button…and Aziraphale didn’t try to stop him. Yellow eyes searched, unblinking, across every centimeter of pale skin that was revealed, and the angel found himself embarrassed simply from being inspected so. Those fingers brushed his skin, and he jolted slightly; Crowley really was still cold…!

            “’S this okay…?” Aziraphale was surprised to hear that; he was asking permission? The act alone made him feel better.

            “It’s fine,” he answered softly. As the demon’s lips met his chest, something very unusual happened. Aziraphale felt…young. As mentioned before, there was little he didn’t possess some knowledge about, but this was one area in which he was completely inexperienced. Not at all like the seasoned angel he most certainly was, he found himself flushed and flustered, hardly sure of what to do with himself. Such was his state of innocence, of ignorance and, admittedly, of intrigue, that he almost felt mortal. All this he felt within a matter of seconds before letting out a shuddering sigh and sliding his fingers through Crowley’s hair to urge him closer. Cool hands slid beneath his shirt, up his back, tracing the exact spots where his wings would’ve been, and an involuntary moan slipped from his lips. His heart beat madly, and heat bloomed in his chest, but he found himself unable to move or protest. Regardless of whether he should or not, he very much enjoyed the attention, and glancing downward to see Crowley’s tongue—oh, it was almost too much…!

            “…angel?” Aziraphale blinked and looked up to find his lover watching him intently, his lips curved in a slight smile. “No harm done, eh?”

            “No, no            ! It was…ahem…nice.” He leaned in and kissed Crowley’s lips softly before hastily re-buttoning his shirt. The demon chuckled and leaned back on the couch, satisfied that progress was being made, and that the angel wasn’t traumatized by it. He took a deep breath and yawned. “Hm. I’m depriving you of sleep, aren’t I?”

            “’S fine,” Crowley answered with a shrug, but it was clear that if he were allowed to get comfortable, he wouldn’t be conscious for much longer.

            “Would you…like to stay here, then?” The serpent opened one eye and smirked at Aziraphale, who hastily added, “I-I’d just hate to think of you driving in this state; you’re reckless enough as it is, and if something were to happen to you…” He forced himself to stop there.

            “If it means that much to you,” Crowley answered as he twirled a blond curl around his finger. “I don’t mind staying.” He slipped his shoes off and lay his sunglasses on the end table, drowsily running his fingers through his hair. “Guess I’m sleeping in here, then?”

            “Yes, but I’ll keep you company if you prefer.” Aziraphale was up and turning out lights now, leaving only one lamp on. He went to his bedroom for a moment and returned, book in hand, to find Crowley shrugging out of his jacket, unbuttoning his shirt to get comfortable. Once the angel had taken up his spot at one end of the couch, his lover easily resumed lying in his lap. It might not have been as luxurious as his bed, but Crowley found himself immensely comfortable; he was asleep within minutes.

Chapter 1: [link]
Chapter 4: Coming soon...

Ugh. I’ve been coping with it up until now, but I have to tell you guys: I hate writing in third-person. Hate. Almost all my writing is in first, so this is really weird for me. I’m trying to do it in the spirit of the original work (whether that’s coming through or not). The only problem is that this is a story about two men (man-shaped creatures), so I can’t use “he” for everything, so I end up having to use other nouns: i.e., “the angel,” “the demon,” or “Crowley” and “Aziraphale.” A lot. More than I would like. *sigh* Author problems…

In other news, I suddenly have some inspiration for a one-shot about these two...but it's a little more sinful than this story has been thus far. That said, I'm considering not posting it until this story catches up to that level. >_> I'm also considering writing it in first person. :shrug: We'll see...
© 2012 - 2024 Syntaxeme
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Powalski13's avatar
OMG! More please! This is such an adorkably cute read. I love these to pieces! X3