20 Dec 2019
“Mr. Crowley, I presume?” Aziraphale asked in lieu of an introduction, which was not forthcoming. The guy hadn’t even removed his sunglasses. Oh God, he had a tattoo on his face. Aziraphale wasn’t one to judge, but… what kind of gardener had a snake tattoo on his face?
Now also available as a podfic from Literarion
- Part 1 of Petrichor & Parchment
18 Sep 2019
For three centuries, Crowley has been reincarnated over and over as a human with no memory of his past. Aziraphale has tried to find a way to restore him to his true self, but all he seems to do is hurt them both. This time, he only means to steal a brief moment when he walks into Crowley's flower shop. But Crowley can't let it go...
27 Jul 2019
Aziraphale knew Crowley was desperately in love with him; he heard it straight from the source one incredibly drunken night. He was just the only one who remembered, and was too afraid to do anything about it.
He stared at him for a long moment, and then suddenly surged forward, grabbing Aziraphale by the coat and shoving him hard against the bookcase. Their noses were centimeters from touching, his breath hot on Aziraphale’s skin. “You knew the whole fucking time?” he repeated, growling. “And never said a God damned thing?”
Not at all the response he expected, Aziraphale only blinked dumbly a few times, hands instinctively grabbing Crowley’s, but not pushing him away. Humiliated? He didn’t understand. All of the anticipation he had before was replaced by ice in his veins. “Yes?” he croaked.
Crowley’s trembling fingers tightened around the lapels of his coat. “How could you?”
24 Jun 2019
“What do you want, angel?” Crowley asks before Aziraphale is even properly in the room.
“Hullo my dear,” Aziraphale sounds cheery but also awfully worried, “I hadn’t seen you since - well, since-” Since they’d swapped bodies back; since Crowley had turned tail and ran from St. James’s Park like the Devil himself had been on his heels.
(in which Crowley and Aziraphale do not dine at the Ritz after that nasty business with Heaven and Hell, and Crowley has an existential crisis instead)
Aziraphale tries to soothe, tries to rock him, completely unsure if he’s helping or not; he’s never seen Crowley lose control in quite this way. Sometimes Crowley lashes out in anger or hurt, and he’s seen him vulnerable before, but nothing like this. Nothing this fragmented, nothing this… shattered. It’s like watching Crowley break, this shivering, terrified creature clinging to him like he might disappear, and oh. Oh, Aziraphale thinks, feeling very small and fragile himself all of a sudden.
In the immediate wake of the almost-apocalypse, Aziraphale realizes he's not the only one who was afraid of being left alone.