GOOD OMENS DRABBLE COLLECTION
a Good Omens fanfic collection by quantum witch (c) 2005-2009

Rating: PG13 to R - suggestiveness, including some slashy content.
Summary: Short pieces that will feature just about everyone from Good Omens... Currently: Crowley, Aziraphale, the Four Horsepersons.
(this page only): Crowley/Aziraphale based drabbles, wherein things are not always as they seem at first glance.

NOTE: Subject to the occasional addition or update.

P.A.S.D. (Post-Apocalyptic Stress Disorder) (written for a "100 things" challenge, hence the 100 licks)

Psychologically, Crowley supposed he could blame the near ending of the world for his newfound need to count things, ticking off the moments of his continued existence. How many times he dined out with the angel. How many ducks they fed. How many bottles of wine they consumed at the bookshop.

And now Crowley watched Aziraphale reading a musty old tome, avidly counting the times he licked his thumb before gently turning pages. One hundred licks later, the demon leapt up and replaced the angel's thumb with his own serpentine tongue.

Afterward, he stopped counting and starting enjoying life again.

PRANKS OR PLEASURES (written as a Halloween contest entry, 666 words in total)

Crowley liked holidays on general principle. They were festive, offered opportunities for extra drinking, and allowed one to get away with things that were often frowned upon on normal days.

But Halloween was the best of all, especially now in the 21st century, because he could actually venture into public sans sunglasses and show off a bit of his true nature without the hassle of altering human memories. Nowadays, he could even saunter about in broad daylight on All Hallow's Eve and barely an eyebrow was raised. People smiled and complimented him on his costume when, for once, he wasn't wearing one. Mostly people just wanted to know where he'd gotten his stunningly realistic contact lenses.

(He also rarely had to deal with any serious Satanists on this day anymore. Most of them scoffed at the holiday, saying it had become too commercial.)

This year, for the first post-Apocalypse Halloween, he decided to go a little further and unsheath his wings as well. Walking now up the darkening streets of Soho he was a fairly impressive sight, but hardly the most outrageously dressed individual. Some of the people weaving woozily down the narrow lanes, in and out of the many bars and shops, could have put a few Dukes of Hell to shame with their disgusting inventiveness. It really was amazing what some food colouring and various bits of cheap glued-on rubber could accomplish. Crowley grinned in delight at every pseudo-demonic person he passed, who greeted him with happy drunken whoops and pointing fingers and whispers of "damn, now THAT'S a great costume". And damned great it was.

He finally entered Azirpahale's bookshop, and the angel jumped in alarm when he saw the demon's appearance. "Good gracious! Crowley, whatever are you trying to do? We aren't supposed to show our true forms!"

"Like anyone would even notice tonight," Crowley grinned wider, and leaned over the countertop. His demonic aura was especially strong at the moment, as he was enjoying himself and not even trying to hide what he was. "Come on, bet you could walk down the streets wings out too, and no one would blink an eye."

Aziraphale huffed. "Perhaps, but I shan't do so. It's in bad taste, if you ask me."

"How can you say that? We don't even look as otherworldly as half the people out there! Unless you decide to show a full-on angelic halo or flaming sword or something."

"Well... we didn't have to buy or make our forms, did we? It's just... what we are."

Crowley hooted with glee. "You're saying it's bad taste because people had to make an effort, and we didn't? Oh that's priceless. Well then, angel," he leaned over further and grabbed Aziraphale's tie in his fist. "Let's make an effort… to blend in, anyway. Come out with me. For one evening, let yourself be free. What could it possibly harm?"

Visions of snakes and apples taunted Aziraphale, who finally sighed and agreed. But the moment he produced his own wings, Crowley hissed in disgust.

"Ugh, what a mess! No way am I going to be seen in public with you looking like that. Let's get you groomed first." Before Aziraphale could protest, the demon had dragged him into the back room, pushed him onto a chair, manifested a soft brush and a spray bottle, and was fussing around behind him like a limp-wristed stylist.

After thirty minutes of plucking, prodding, and preening, the angel's wings were in better shape. And the angel himself had melted like churned dairy product, draped damply over the chair, moaning softly against his fist.

Crowley grinned in pleasure, leaning over his shoulder. "So... calling it an early night, then, are we?"

Aziraphale nodded with a tiny whimper of lust and looked up at the demon with bright, glazed eyes, begging in a way he never had before.

Oh, yes, Halloween would always be Crowley's favourite holiday. "Tricks or treats," he growled seductively, and gave Aziraphale a taste of each.

RE-ARRANGEMENT

"Uhnn, yes… just a bit more… to the left," Aziraphale panted and gave a mighty flex of his entire body.

"There?" Crowley groaned, heaving forward with great effort. "That the spot?"

"Aahh… almost… there…" Aziraphale was red-faced and sweating with exertion, but determined.

"Come on, angel," the demon whined against his ear, "it's taking… too long…" He backed away, wiping his dampened face. "You could have hired someone - "

Aziraphale gave an offended grunt. "My dear… not just anyone is allowed to touch such treasures."

"Yes, but… you could have miracled your Bible bookcase across the room, you know."

SURPRISE CALLER

The phone was ringing. Crowley didn't even pull his head from the covers to answer it. "H'lo… sleepin'... nothin'... yeah, sleep naked, whaddaboudit…"

His eyes opened in surprise. "Do I wanna what? Hey, nobody wakes me up to pant obscenities into my ear, unless they're sleeping right next to me and equally naked, understand?"

He slammed the phone down, and promptly went back to sleep.

Twenty minutes later he was awakened by knocking at his door.

He grumblingly answered it to find a blushing Aziraphale.

The angel smiled and said, "I didn't bring pajamas." Then he kissed the stunned demon.

A MATTER OF PROPORTION

"My dear, it's nothing to be ashamed of," Aziraphale tutted, patting Crowley on the shoulder.

The demon sighed, "Easy for you to say. Yours is bigger."

"I don't see why it's a problem at all," the angel insisted. "It's not as though we use that bit of ourselves very often anyway, so size shouldn't even be a factor –"

"Oh fine, rub it in." Crowley snarled unhappily. "In your case, it's all due to girth."

Aziraphale gasped in offence. "That is NOT the reason my wingspan is wider than yours!"

Crowley smirked. "Is too. You've got more weight to carry."

MR. FELL'S WILD RIDE

"AAAH! Stop! It's too much!" Aziraphale yelled, panicked and clenching his fists tightly. "Please! I really can't take it!"

"Hang on, angel. It's almost done, and I can't stop it now that it's started," Crowley responded, grinning hugely. He tangled his fingers with Aziraphale's in a spontaneous show of support.

"Oh, damn you, Crowley! You knew I'd hate this, why'd I ever let you talk me into... Finally!" Aziraphale gave a pathetic moan of relief.

He stepped shakily off the rattling Tilt-A-Whirl.

The demon laughed as Aziraphale snarled, "Never again! I really should discorporate you for that, you blasted serpent…"