Fic: My Bonds In Thee By Nym - Good Omens (TV)

Fic: My Bonds in Thee by Nym - Good Omens (TV)

Aziraphale comes back. Their love was never in doubt but they still have different exactlys.

Pairing: Aziraphale/Crowley Wordcount: 42,600 of (probably 80,000 - WIP) Rating: Explicit AO3 Archive Warning: No archive warnings apply Tags: Second Kiss, First Time, Flashbacks, Angst, Hurt/Comfort Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49148341/

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Excerpt from My Bonds in Thee chapter 8:

The world ended here just a few days ago. His world. He's not sure he feels good about returning, but Gabriel got one thing right (one damned thing in his damned smug damned charmed damned bloody Supreme existence). Home is wherever the heart is. And Crowley's already given his to Aziraphale. That's like Armageddon: You don't get a do-over when it goes pear-shaped. Push on, then.

Crowley scratches his head through the cloth of the hood, relieved to feel that he still has hair.

"How, um, deviant are we thinking? I mean," he gestures to the spiral staircase, upstairs, shocked to feel his cheeks and ears getting hot. "Physically?"

Aziraphale freezes while putting the front door keys into the top drawer of the desk. He clears his throat lightly and composes his features into his usual expression of placid warmth.

"If you can't choose your form, my dear," he says, with a facade of ease that Crowley really admires under the circumstances, "I'd say, 'very'. Not that one knows much about these matters, being an angel." He closes the drawer, slowly, and turns around. "Were you, um, hoping to find out now?"

Crowley pictures Aziraphale in Eden, hastily turning his back on Adam and Eve with a shocked little huff when they figured out what all the naked bits were for.

He still wonders what would've happened if he hadn't tempted Eve to try the bloody fruit. Suppose he'd seduced an angel instead—whispered visceral temptation in that innocent ear and stroked that sweet, soft, angelic hair until Aziraphale shivered and dropped his flaming sword?

That would've looked great in Genesis.

"One doesn't bloody know," he says, throwing himself lengthways onto the couch in a dramatic sprawl. "And one would like a bloody big drink now."

Aziraphale brings him a small drink, a careful measure of Scotch, but he has the decency to bring the bottle too.

For a moment, the angel hesitates about where to sit. Crowley sees the moment when Aziraphale remembers the park, the water's edge, and their kiss. It softens his whole face with wonder and quiet joy. This in turn makes Crowley stop breathing. He pats the edge of the couch beside his hip, raising a questioning eyebrow.

Aziraphale sits there, flustered, and hands him the glass.

"Can we really do this?"

"It's too late to ask that now." Crowley's not sure of much right now, but he's clear on that. They can only move forward.

"No. I mean, the other thing. 'Pillar of salt time'."

"Oh." Crowley empties the whisky down his throat in one gulp. "I've no idea. Can we? It's not actually written down anywhere, is it? 'Thou shalt not have carnal knowledge of an angel stroke demon'?"

"Carnal knowledge," Aziraphale echoes fretfully. "Sounds very bad when you put it like that."

"You'd blush if I put it any other way."

"I'm already blushing. They call it 'making love'. The humans, I mean. That's nice. I like that one."

"I think we..." Frowning, Crowley tries to think it over. He's not supposed to be out of his mind with temptation. It's been his job to do that to other people. But the possibility of the two of them, more together than they're already together... "We can be anything we want. Any shape, I mean. So I guess we can find one that, you know." He gestures vaguely with his glass, unwilling to sully the idea with what Aziraphale would call 'vulgar language', "Works," he finishes, awkwardly.

"Do snakes, um..."

"Don't go there."

"I'm a bit worried that we could accidentally destroy each other," Aziraphale admits. "With carnal knowledge."

"According to most humans, it's one hell of a way to go."

"Oh." Aziraphale bites his bottom lip. Crowley holds up his empty glass with a meaningful nod. Aziraphale ignores it, instead putting the whisky bottle down on the floor. "It's worrying me," he confesses, almost whispering. "I know nothing worries you, but—"

"You think that?"

"What?"

"That nothing worries me?"

"Well..."

"I'm terrified." Crowley slaps a hand to his chest as evidence of his thundering heart. "I'm absolutely scared out of my mind. Hence the empty glass," he adds, meaningfully. "I don't have the answers, Angel. I'm not sure I even know the questions."

Aziraphale takes the glass out of his hand and puts it down next to the bottle with a tidy little 'chink'. Crowley watches it go with a tiny pang of grief, the hint of a pout.

"I had no idea. I'm sorry." He lays his hand on top of Crowley's with slow care. "I assumed again. That you'd— Being a demon, with all the temptations and everything..." It tails off as the merest hint of a question.

Crowley wrinkles his nose.

"Humans?"

"Yes."

"Ugh. No. It was my job to get them doing it to each other without, you know. The love bit. Selfishly. Destructively. Unadulterated lust. Except when it's adultery, I suppose. Does that adulterate it? Does it get cancelled out if it's adultery but they love each other? Or if they love each other but do it selfishly? There's a few decades of temptation time I'll never get back."

Crowley realises he's babbling and stops.

"I see." Aziraphale's fingers curl around Crowley's unresisting hand, fingertips brushing his chest. Even through two layers of clothing, the sensation makes Crowley's toes curl. "And how exactly does one tempt a human to succumb to the flesh?"

"Uh..." Crowley blows out his cheeks. It's been a while. His temptations, halfhearted anyway, have been on a larger scale since the Industrial Revolution. Whole populations, technology, not furtive couples. "Well, you know. Rainstorms, shelter together under an awning, Jane Austen's balls. That sort of thing. They look uncertainly into each other's eyes, go in for the big, climactic kiss and... and Bob's your uncle. Carnal knowledge all over the sho—place." He fidgets uncomfortably, suddenly regretting the way he draped a nonchalant leg over the far arm of the couch. He's exposed everything, and Aziraphale is looking uncertainly into his eyes. His sunglasses, anyway. "It's programmed in for them. Some of them. A lot of them."

"Crowley," Aziraphale says, making a devastatingly unsuccessful attempt to look naughty. "Take off your glasses. I can't kiss you if you're not looking at me."

Never, never, in the thousands of years since he invented the bloody things, has it taken Crowley so many agonising eternities to snatch the stupid bits of glass and wire from his nose.

Aziraphale plants a hand on either side of Crowley's shoulders and bends swiftly, pecking him on the lips and—Crowley gulps—chuckling in the back of his throat. It's a deep sound. It's the sexy, evil twin of Aziraphale's guilty, nervous titter.

"Oh, God," Crowley mumbles, kissing upwards, like it's programmed in. "If this doesn't work—" kiss, "—we'll be cringin—" kiss, "—cringing about it 'til mumnff—" kiss, open mouths, a shared gasp, "'til the heat death of the universe."

[continue reading on AO3]

Good Omens | Ode To Joy - fanvid by Bexism

Pimping this one again on this special anniversary, because DAMN it’s good! (Use headphones if you can.)

My Bonds in Thee by Nym on AO3 Fandom: Good Omens (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley Additional Tags: Second Kiss, First Time, Character Study, Flashbacks, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Post-Series 2, Hell is Terrible, Heaven is Terrible, Ineffable Idiots, Ducks, Lack of Communication, different exactlys Chapters: 19/? Summary: Aziraphale comes back. Their love was never in doubt but they still have different exactlys.

1839. London. The Hesperus Club. A demon, broken and bleeding, hunches naked on the tiled floor. His knees beneath his chin, arms wrapped around his legs, he'd succeed at making himself appear small if not for his wings. They're magnificent, as wings go—black, broad—but they're not currently obeying the demon's will and they've seen better days. They droop weakly behind him, spreading across the wet floor like spilt ink, pulling against his visceral need to curl into a ball and vanish into stillness. An angel kneels behind him, slowly scooping water from the bathing pool with the cup of his hand; patiently pouring it over the demon's wounds. Blood and water mingle, pooling over the moss-green tiles and trickling towards the brass-lattice drains. Towards the pool, where the water slowly darkens to rusty brown. "Crowley," the angel prompts when the demon begins to crumple, ready to join his useless wings in a boneless sprawl across the floor—something fit for a gothic painter or the pen of a tortured poet. At the angel's voice, Crowley stops himself falling (but he's always falling; a raging star plunging in cold fire across the heavens towards bottomless destruction). With such effort, he holds himself still. Allows the angel to wash the neglect from his wounds and then, when the wounds are raw enough to begin healing, to gather up one raven wing at a time in careful, angelic hands, folding Crowley like the limp bellows of a broken accordion. Hissing with pain—and it is a hiss, fork-tongued, instinctive, and warning—Crowley tugs his right wing from the angel's grasp and sits up a little straighter. With more of an effort, he folds both wings against his back. Brittle feathers break quietly against the ground. "Oh, but they're filthy, my dear. Let me—" "Someone'll come in here. They'll see." Crowley glances towards the doors. He's suddenly alert enough, present enough, to know that time has passed since he came to this place, and that it's a human place. His wings shrug themselves unthinkingly into some other sliver of reality, safely out of sight, exposing more bloody sores on his flanks for the angel's fussing hands to tend. Water and prayers, wasted on him. "No one will come," soothes the angel (but his voice shakes, too angry and hurt to soothe anyone). "No one will see. You're safe now. I promise." Crowley nods automatically. Safe. Yes. Safe from the humans, anyway. The angel's made sure of that. "Thank you." He grits his teeth when the angel tips water over a crusted gash beneath his ribs, refusing to make another sound. "Don't mention it, my dear." The saddest part is, the angel really, really means that.

I've just received my first actual news (as opposed to olds, which I see constantly while looking for stuff that's actually about Supernatural) from the Destiel meme. Milestone/rite of passage/bingo card cross!

It would not have been my first choice of how to learn the news. BBC News website, thou failed me sorely over my morning coffee today. Do the dance of shame. The Tumblr meme out-reported you on critical world events, here.

The "How are they going to recover the plotline and momentum after investing heavily in Kang/the multiverse then ditching the actor on whom it all pivots," question has been resoundingly answered between this and the ending of Loki.

Well played, MCU. Well played. I did NOT see that coming. Doctor Doom, yes. RDJ, nope. I did not see that coming. I bet that hall at Comic Con was the best screaming riot since Hiddleston did his thing in 2013.

Welcome back Robert Downey Jr.

Dean = hetero/bi/gay/other?

I felt he was being consciously written and played as bisexual, at least during the Kripke seasons. Taking the 15 seasons as a whole, the picture looks less clear to me. I'd be surprised to learn that he hasn't had sex with men and women.

Romance... I'd guess Cas is as close as Dean's come to a functioning romance with another guy, and Lisa as close as he's come to a functioning one with a woman. He holds a lot of himself back with/from both of them, even at the points where he feels very close to them, and I think his reasons go far beyond his sexuality/his level of conscious awareness of his sexuality.

He's mostly just damaged about the whole idea of bonding with other people, about exposing his vulnerability to other people, about family and protecting his people, to the point where he's too busy just coping with his upbringing, then his experience in Hell and his self-hatred, then his mounting losses/grief, then the unfairness of his rigged-by-Chuck life, to spend the time figuring out what life and partner he'd want in an ideal world. He remains sexually nomadic, and later on plain reclusive.

He never believes he's going to get that world or reap what he's constantly sowing with his own blood and tears. I'm not sure he believed it even in the finale when everything seemed possible at last. And I'm damned sure he didn't believe it in that ep of The Winchesters I watched last week.

There'll be peace when you are done, eh? Someone hug the man.

In this post, I took a look at the beginning of the Final Fifteen and how Aziraphale's walk back to the bookshop is not the look of an excited or happy angel... instead, it looks like he's upset and desperately making a plan. Whelp, it's time for the next step of the heartbreak that is the Final Fifteen... Aziraphale's dance.

The first thing that happens when Aziraphale enters the bookshop is Nina and Maggie head out from their chat with Crowley. We follow them out, and the camera leaves them and joins the Metatron as he approaches Muriel on the patio reading a book. He checks in on her, and then straightens up, turning around. This gives him the perfect vantage point to stare straight into the bookshop window right at where our angel and demon are talking.

As you can see in the gif above, Aziraphale can see him from where he's standing. Before he even looks at Crowley, he sees the Metatron through the window.

Crowely starts his confession. He doesn't get very far... but really, he doesn't need to. These are two beings who know each other so well they can tell by tone of voice how the other is feeling. And Aziraphale knows just from the tone what Crowley is trying to say. There's a reason that it's taken them 6000 years to say how they feel... it's dangerous. It was never an unnecessary fear on their part, it was a very real and very present danger. And now, Crowley is about to say all the things that Aziraphale wants to hear, and the danger IS STARING AT THEM THROUGH THE WINDOW.

He hasn't even really looked at Crowley yet... heard the tone that Crowley was using, and looking out the window... Yep! Metatron, right there. Note his hands. Up and down. I didn't watch all of Extraordinary Attorney Woo for nothing! Those are "woah woah" hands. Like, stop talking, stop talking, STOP TALKING.

When he finally does look at Crowley, that's not a happy face. Not the face of someone that's finally hearing the confession they've been longing for for millennia. Michael Sheen has given Aziraphale the most endearing heart eyes throughout season 2...

But no heart eyes here? If everything went great with the Metatron and Aziraphale is completely on board with returning to Heaven with Crowley by his side, why in the world would he interrupt this moment? Letting Crowley profess his love would only strengthen Aziraphale's push to stay together. It is "Incredibly good news" after all. No, things did NOT go well with the Metatron, and they are in trouble. And so, Aziraphale is starting to panic. Crowley isn't paying attention to the "shush" hands, or his repeated looks out the window, so the only thing left is to interrupt. Aziraphale's bumbling rush to cut Crowley off feels a lot like "I can't let you continue so you don't incriminate yourself."

SO!! Azi jumps in with his version of his conversation with the Metatron. The "Good News" - "I... (mouth working furiously without sound)... the Metatron..." I don't think it's 'normal Aziraphale stutter' in the moment between those two words. There are plenty of times when Azi gets a little tongue tied when he's too excited (either due to lying OR trying to impress Crowley). But usually when he does that, he looks up and to the left. Instead, this time he makes eye contact with Crowley and does not look away. If you look closely, I'm nearly certain that he mouths the words "We Need Help."

What convinces me of this even more is that Crowley begins to watch him very intently. He's frustrated... certainly! But he doesn't fall into their normal banter. No quips, no growling at being cut off, no gentle arguing. He can absolutely tell from Aziraphale's tone that this is his "Something's Wrong Voice" and instantly listens.

Then the full dance begins. Aziraphale does begin his normal stutter with the wandering hands... he's trying to not say the wrong thing here and make their situation worse while still being convincing that he's going along with what the Metatron wanted.

Crowley tries to play along... until the offer to become an angel again comes up. I don't think that Aziraphale knows just how painful that concept is for Crowley. And with good reason, because I highly doubt that Crowley has been honest with him about it. Aziraphale loves Crowley for ALL that he is, but since he doesn't know how hurtful this will be, he just blunders right into the offer.

Crowley is so hurt? (Offended? Enraged?) by the concept of becoming an angel again, that he can't keep up the dance they've been putting on for the Metatron. In fact, he immediately fires off "And you told him just where he could stick it then." It's not actually a question for Aziraphale... He knows they're being listened to. He's directly telling the Metatron where he can stick it. "We're better than that" = "We're better than YOU (Metatron)"

And we watch the smile fall from Aziraphale's face. IMO, there is no question that Aziraphale suffers from CPTSD. People (and people shaped beings) with CPTSD can have a very hard time when there is a sudden, unexpected emotional response to something they've done or said. He thought they were on the same page, and suddenly Crowley isn't playing along, and he's angry. Furious. And Aziraphale falls back on old habits as he tries to regain his footing... thus, the unfortunate comment of "You're the bad guys." It's a terrible thing to say. And I'm not trying to excuse Azi for saying it... but it was a trauma response to an unexpected situation.

"Tell me you said no!" "If I'm in charge, I can make a difference."

The dance is over... these lines are not for the Metatron's benefit, or anyone else's. This is real. Crowley wants Aziraphale to say no to the Metatron, regardless of the situation. Aziraphale thinks he can only thwart the Metatron/ protect Crowley and the world by going to Heaven.

Ouch my heart! Onward to Crowley's confession (and possibly a post about the prologue to this heartache and the conversation between Azi and Metatrash)