on the first day of christmas, my true love gave to me:
...an anecdote before the story.
Earlier this morning I was admiring the image I posted yesterday, fiddling with the size a bit, when my sister wandered into my room and peered at the computer. "Who are they?" she asked, pointing at Crowley and Aziraphale.
I grinned - excellent, it's never too soon to get my sister into the world of Pratchett and Gaiman - and replied airily, "Oh, they're characters from a book called Good Omens."
"Both men," my sister observed, and then after a moment, added, "Are they gay?"
I love my sister so much. I mean, seriously, they're not even visibly holding hands!
Anyway, here's the story now.
Title: Star of Wonder
Fandom: Good Omens
Wordcount: 619
Summary: "So you stood somewhere outside Bethlehem and shouted 'a little more to the left' all night?" the demon asked somewhat incredulously.
"You'd think there wouldn't be any stars out by now," Crowley mused, pointing up into the dawn-pink Christmas sky where one star twinkled stubbornly down at them. "Even Venus isn't showing, this time of day."
Aziraphale peered up into the sky in the direction indicated by Crowley's finger, and made a small noise of surprise too soft and relaxed to really be called a gasp. “Funny,” he said. “I thought that star burned out years ago. There isn't much use for it these days.”
“What’s that, then?” inquired Crowley, who was less in the know when it came to more heavenly celestial objects.
“It's the Star of Bethlehem,” Aziraphale replied, fondly. “You know, I helped put it up," he added as an afterthought. "They couldn't get it properly centered."
Crowley snickered. There really wasn't a better word for his laugh than that, though Aziraphale found himself finding it less insulting than amusing. He supposed it was a mark of how familiar the two of them were with each other by now. "So you stood somewhere outside Bethlehem and shouted 'a little more to the left' all night?" the demon asked somewhat incredulously.
"Two nights, actually," Aziraphale admitted. "All for the best, really. Poor Mary was rather distraught the first night."
"That explains the late kings," Crowley remarked, shaking his head. "You know, I almost got a commendation for that one. Never quite understood that. I wasn't even in the area at the time."
"Jerusalem?" Aziraphale inquired.
"Rome, actually," Crowley replied, with a faintly nostalgic smile. "Now there was a bed of sin. I hardly had to help them along. Just coasted along, kept the Senate drinking and the emperors marrying their neices." He waved his free hand about in the air before him in some sort of all-encompassing respresentation of Roman sin. "Next thing I know, they've gone and crucified the Son of God, and suddenly Constantine's changing his religion and everybody's Catholic."
Aziraphale chuckled. "We were all waiting for you to one-up us with the Antichrist," he said. "Amassing the divine armies and all that. Out of curiosity, was that the plan Below?"
Crowley only shrugged. "I wouldn't have known. By then I was already spending all my time up here. If there was a plan to unleash Adam - the Antichrist, I mean - I never heard about it."
"I thought you were their go-to being for unleashing the means of Armageddon," Aziraphale commented, vaguely waving his right hand and thus Crowley's left, for he had obtained it a good five minutes ago. The demon hadn't yet seemed to notice, or care.
Crowley did look a bit uncomfortable now, though. "I, er, wasn't expected to be," he admitted. "First time I knew I was on the job, they handed me the hoofless wonder -"
"Hoofless wonder?" Aziraphale inquired, raising his eyebrows.
"Er - the Antichrist," Crowley amended. "That was - that nun, she said - you know what, never mind. The point is, I wasn't the designated enabler of Armageddon. It just sort of… happened." Like the Arrangement, he didn't add, to Aziraphale's relief. Not that they ever really brought the Arrangement up - it was an unspoken thing, after all - but Aziraphale especially didn't like thinking of it in the same terms as the bringing-about of the almost-apocalypse.
"Who would've thought we'd be so important again?" he mused, cutting that mental comparison short. "We were rather unimportant back in anno domini."
"I'd've preferred to stay the way," Crowley replied. "Much less responsibility. I mean, sure, for a little while I had the envy of all Hell, but - who actually wants that?"
"Or the resentment of Heaven," Aziraphale murmured, but smiled fondly.
"Good times," Crowley replied absently. "Nice star, though."
"Quite," Aziraphale agreed.
Earlier this morning I was admiring the image I posted yesterday, fiddling with the size a bit, when my sister wandered into my room and peered at the computer. "Who are they?" she asked, pointing at Crowley and Aziraphale.
I grinned - excellent, it's never too soon to get my sister into the world of Pratchett and Gaiman - and replied airily, "Oh, they're characters from a book called Good Omens."
"Both men," my sister observed, and then after a moment, added, "Are they gay?"
I love my sister so much. I mean, seriously, they're not even visibly holding hands!
Anyway, here's the story now.
Title: Star of Wonder
Fandom: Good Omens
Wordcount: 619
Summary: "So you stood somewhere outside Bethlehem and shouted 'a little more to the left' all night?" the demon asked somewhat incredulously.
"You'd think there wouldn't be any stars out by now," Crowley mused, pointing up into the dawn-pink Christmas sky where one star twinkled stubbornly down at them. "Even Venus isn't showing, this time of day."
Aziraphale peered up into the sky in the direction indicated by Crowley's finger, and made a small noise of surprise too soft and relaxed to really be called a gasp. “Funny,” he said. “I thought that star burned out years ago. There isn't much use for it these days.”
“What’s that, then?” inquired Crowley, who was less in the know when it came to more heavenly celestial objects.
“It's the Star of Bethlehem,” Aziraphale replied, fondly. “You know, I helped put it up," he added as an afterthought. "They couldn't get it properly centered."
Crowley snickered. There really wasn't a better word for his laugh than that, though Aziraphale found himself finding it less insulting than amusing. He supposed it was a mark of how familiar the two of them were with each other by now. "So you stood somewhere outside Bethlehem and shouted 'a little more to the left' all night?" the demon asked somewhat incredulously.
"Two nights, actually," Aziraphale admitted. "All for the best, really. Poor Mary was rather distraught the first night."
"That explains the late kings," Crowley remarked, shaking his head. "You know, I almost got a commendation for that one. Never quite understood that. I wasn't even in the area at the time."
"Jerusalem?" Aziraphale inquired.
"Rome, actually," Crowley replied, with a faintly nostalgic smile. "Now there was a bed of sin. I hardly had to help them along. Just coasted along, kept the Senate drinking and the emperors marrying their neices." He waved his free hand about in the air before him in some sort of all-encompassing respresentation of Roman sin. "Next thing I know, they've gone and crucified the Son of God, and suddenly Constantine's changing his religion and everybody's Catholic."
Aziraphale chuckled. "We were all waiting for you to one-up us with the Antichrist," he said. "Amassing the divine armies and all that. Out of curiosity, was that the plan Below?"
Crowley only shrugged. "I wouldn't have known. By then I was already spending all my time up here. If there was a plan to unleash Adam - the Antichrist, I mean - I never heard about it."
"I thought you were their go-to being for unleashing the means of Armageddon," Aziraphale commented, vaguely waving his right hand and thus Crowley's left, for he had obtained it a good five minutes ago. The demon hadn't yet seemed to notice, or care.
Crowley did look a bit uncomfortable now, though. "I, er, wasn't expected to be," he admitted. "First time I knew I was on the job, they handed me the hoofless wonder -"
"Hoofless wonder?" Aziraphale inquired, raising his eyebrows.
"Er - the Antichrist," Crowley amended. "That was - that nun, she said - you know what, never mind. The point is, I wasn't the designated enabler of Armageddon. It just sort of… happened." Like the Arrangement, he didn't add, to Aziraphale's relief. Not that they ever really brought the Arrangement up - it was an unspoken thing, after all - but Aziraphale especially didn't like thinking of it in the same terms as the bringing-about of the almost-apocalypse.
"Who would've thought we'd be so important again?" he mused, cutting that mental comparison short. "We were rather unimportant back in anno domini."
"I'd've preferred to stay the way," Crowley replied. "Much less responsibility. I mean, sure, for a little while I had the envy of all Hell, but - who actually wants that?"
"Or the resentment of Heaven," Aziraphale murmured, but smiled fondly.
"Good times," Crowley replied absently. "Nice star, though."
"Quite," Aziraphale agreed.