Fic: Timeless Memento
So, the other day I had the coolest fandom dream ever. I decided to write it as a fanfiction. If things make little sense to you, well they make as little to me. I hope you enjoy. I know I snickered like mad when I woke up. Not beta'd.
Title: Timeless Memento
Fandom: Good Omens
Pairing: Crowley/Aziraphale if you squint. I ship them even in my sleep.
Rating: PG
Summary: “Yes, we sell everything here from 18th century French wine to old water bottles from 1993. Collector’s item.” He stated with a wry smile on his face that allowed for no retort even if you had any.
Spoilers: None.
Disclaimer: Characters not mine. Dream content, is all from my weird mind, though.
It was a warm pleasant night. Just the kind of night you got in early September, the brick houses still warm from a gentle sun that had set mere hours ago. The place was a random street down in London - the kind of place that always had people passing by no matter the time and small stores selling all kind of prize items, sometimes open at odd hours. The girl felt her attention waver to one of those small stores. She was just an ordinary girl, about twelve or thirteen years old, wearing the awkward clothes a child turning teenager would wear - an unspoken fashion sense of a dark blue dress over denim jeans, her long brown hair tied back by a yellow ribbon. However, that wasn’t the important part. She pressed her hands and face to the dusty window of the small store to sneak a look inside.
Tiny as it was, the place was cramped with all kinds of bottles and packs. An old fashion board over the entrance simply read ‘Antiques’ in a faded writing - looked like the owners of the store hadn’t bothered with renewing either the label or the name. But one more attentive look into the wares inside proved it to be right - this was indeed an antiques store. An antique liquor store, with all kinds of bottles lined up, some dusty and other more perused, all of them glittering with the lights from the streets from the occasional car, since the ones inside were deem. It was an unusual business alright, but in these streets you saw all kinds of stores. The only thing that seemed out of place was the man behind the counter - not the type of person one would expect to manage this kind of business, all tall and lanky, dark clothes and humour alike, looking perhaps a bit bored or concerned. Before the girl could even stop to think what she was doing, she found herself inside the small space, which earned her a glance from the dark haired man and a slight quirk of eyebrows from behind sunglasses - his eyes ought to be really sensitive to need those at night, with such deem light from the single lamp hanging from the ceiling. Then his lips quirked in a small mischievous smile as if he knew some sort of special secret and was keeping it from the rest of humanity (of course, that was relative) and, if he was wondering what a girl that age was doing alone in a store selling antique beverages at 10pm, he kept it solely to himself. The girl seemed to cower a bit under the stare for, as brief as it’d been, it felt as if the man’s eyes behind those sunglasses were gazing into her very core and she was shy by nature already. She looked around, trying to muster some excuse for entering the store and her eyes fell on some bottles by the side of the counter, different from the others, with clear transparent liquid inside. Her eyebrows rose in inquiry but before she could utter the question, the tall man was already muttering something under his breath.
“Tch, the angel and his blessed ideas…” Then he just made a vague gesture with his hands and explained “Yes, we sell everything here from 18th century French wine to old water bottles from 1993. Collector’s item.” He stated with a wry smile on his face that allowed for no retort even if you had any. The teen just frowned in puzzlement but before she could say anything, the old door creaked to let someone in.
The newcomer seemed to take up whatever little space was left at the entrance, brown outdated trench coat and multiple layers of clothes making him appear larger than he really was. His hair was shaggy and blonde and needed some trimming, wavy locks falling over his kind blue eyes that shimmered behind his simple glasses. He put the large black umbrella in the basket beside the door, and huffed a bit, in good nature.
“Oh my, here I thought the weather forecast had included rain…” That earned a snicker from the man behind the counter. “As if they ever get anything right…” The light haired man just waved away the other’s words and was about to retort when fell on the girl, taking on a puzzled look.
“Oh, goodness. A customer?” He smiled kindly at the girl, who had yet to mutter a single word. If the dark haired man’s indirect gaze made her chest tingle, this man’s attention made her feel as if her heart had swollen up until it was about to burst. She clenched the item in her pocket, out of nervous habit.
“Yes, a rather special one, at that” Was the simple reply from the man behind the counter. That made the girl’s face crunch up in a confused frown but the ‘lighter man’ just exchanged a knowing gaze with the other. She gazed up at the newcomer and that’s when her eyes fell on a small brooch strapped on the coat’s lapel. It was just a simple pin of a tiny alarm clock - something one wouldn’t usually wear in clothing but it went oddly well with the man’s old fashion sense. In fact, it wasn’t hard to guess that this man was the real owner of the shop and that the other was probably only filling up for him. The girl took the small item from her dress pocket and gazed at the tiny alarm clock pin on her palm, her eyes glancing up at the similar one on the man’s chest. They were identical, save for the color - while hers was black like a raven’s feathers, the man’s was light like the warm morning sun.
“Um…” Her eyes travelled from the blonde man to the dark haired man, who was moving from behind the counter, his eyes on the simple dark pin, his hands tense as if his fingers were twitching to hold it. The girl tensed a bit at that - at the thought that the man would take this important item from her, even if it felt right. This simple clothe pin felt like a piece of the man, as little sense as that made. She felt warm comforting hands on her shoulders and gazed up at the other man’s kind, knowing smile.
“Now, now we wouldn’t want to cause this lady any sadness, would we?” He said, glancing at the other man, who seemed to gather some sort of control over himself and just scowled, shoving his hands in his dark trench coat’s pockets. The middle-aged looking man just smiled beatifically and gently guided the girl around, opening the door to the slightly emptier streets, the tall man following them both and shutting the door tightly behind them. The girl just clutched the pin nervously - not because of them, no, because they felt comfortingly familiar, like some old acquaintances one had total confidence on, some distant relatives, whose warmth she felt would fade should she part with this brooch that her late grandfather had left her.
As they stood on the slightly darkened streets glancing around aimlessly, the now slightly jittery man let out a surprised sound and started rushing down the street, leaving the other man flailing a bit.
“Dearest, where are you going?” He asked as he hurried after him, the girl following them both like a shadow.
“Just remembered something!” Came the single reply and if anyone found it strange to see such two distinct men and a teenager rushing through the streets at this hour of the night, they didn’t glance twice.
Finally, they reached their destination - and old decaying mall, its once white walls now grayed with dirt from exhaust pipes and further darkened by the broken street lamp on the corner of the sidewalk. The entrance was tiny and the inside was just as claustrophobic, with barely any space in the hallways, not to mention the shops with merchandise that wouldn’t feel out of place in a museum. It was hard to imagine someone would be needing something from this kind of place, lest of all this man - dressed in the latest fashion and quality clothes, unlike his counterpart that was the ‘lighter man’. Again, the girl glanced at the small clock pin on her hand and back at the other. Even if it felt out of place when compared to this man’s fashion sense, she couldn’t help but feel it completed him. Said dark haired man was currently busy shuffling through some small items, stored in a dark corner of the cramped store - this one didn’t feel the slightest bit warm or welcoming like the small liquor shop had. One quick glance proved them all to be children’s clothe pins and the girl once again frowned, her smaller-than-usual hand tightening around the tiny alarm clock. She wasn’t a child anymore, so why was he selecting something like that for her?
With a triumphant exclamation, the man turned with a toothy grin that wouldn’t look out of place in a serpent directed to the other man, and presented her with a pin of a small blue teddy bear, trying to look nonchalant about it and ignoring the approving gaze from his companion.
“I know it’s not the same but…just for your trouble?” He proposed with a slight quirk of his eyebrows, his golden gaze questioning from behind the sunglasses.
I reached out for the small item being offered to me and touched it lightly. I smiled as my heart filled with a content feeling from my childhood and finally opened my other hand, silently letting him take what was rightfully his - a piece of his essence, of his long lost Grace he had parted with so long ago. The small black clock pin glinted when he touched it, and the lighter one on the label of the other man’s coat glowed softly, as if in response. And even though I parted with such an important item, the two beings felt as warm to me as they’d felt before - shining brighter with another piece of their power restored.
Believe it or not, this was actually a dream I had. How else would I come up with the crazy notion of 'antique water bottles' as a collector's item? XDDD Lmao my brain is so weird... Also, I usually hate self inserts but I couldn't help it - I was in the dream. Which is totally unusual for me, to dream of myself. But when I do, I'm always younger. It's safe to say I'm not thirteen anymore. The switch to first person in the last paragraph is entirely intentional.
Title: Timeless Memento
Fandom: Good Omens
Pairing: Crowley/Aziraphale if you squint. I ship them even in my sleep.
Rating: PG
Summary: “Yes, we sell everything here from 18th century French wine to old water bottles from 1993. Collector’s item.” He stated with a wry smile on his face that allowed for no retort even if you had any.
Spoilers: None.
Disclaimer: Characters not mine. Dream content, is all from my weird mind, though.
It was a warm pleasant night. Just the kind of night you got in early September, the brick houses still warm from a gentle sun that had set mere hours ago. The place was a random street down in London - the kind of place that always had people passing by no matter the time and small stores selling all kind of prize items, sometimes open at odd hours. The girl felt her attention waver to one of those small stores. She was just an ordinary girl, about twelve or thirteen years old, wearing the awkward clothes a child turning teenager would wear - an unspoken fashion sense of a dark blue dress over denim jeans, her long brown hair tied back by a yellow ribbon. However, that wasn’t the important part. She pressed her hands and face to the dusty window of the small store to sneak a look inside.
Tiny as it was, the place was cramped with all kinds of bottles and packs. An old fashion board over the entrance simply read ‘Antiques’ in a faded writing - looked like the owners of the store hadn’t bothered with renewing either the label or the name. But one more attentive look into the wares inside proved it to be right - this was indeed an antiques store. An antique liquor store, with all kinds of bottles lined up, some dusty and other more perused, all of them glittering with the lights from the streets from the occasional car, since the ones inside were deem. It was an unusual business alright, but in these streets you saw all kinds of stores. The only thing that seemed out of place was the man behind the counter - not the type of person one would expect to manage this kind of business, all tall and lanky, dark clothes and humour alike, looking perhaps a bit bored or concerned. Before the girl could even stop to think what she was doing, she found herself inside the small space, which earned her a glance from the dark haired man and a slight quirk of eyebrows from behind sunglasses - his eyes ought to be really sensitive to need those at night, with such deem light from the single lamp hanging from the ceiling. Then his lips quirked in a small mischievous smile as if he knew some sort of special secret and was keeping it from the rest of humanity (of course, that was relative) and, if he was wondering what a girl that age was doing alone in a store selling antique beverages at 10pm, he kept it solely to himself. The girl seemed to cower a bit under the stare for, as brief as it’d been, it felt as if the man’s eyes behind those sunglasses were gazing into her very core and she was shy by nature already. She looked around, trying to muster some excuse for entering the store and her eyes fell on some bottles by the side of the counter, different from the others, with clear transparent liquid inside. Her eyebrows rose in inquiry but before she could utter the question, the tall man was already muttering something under his breath.
“Tch, the angel and his blessed ideas…” Then he just made a vague gesture with his hands and explained “Yes, we sell everything here from 18th century French wine to old water bottles from 1993. Collector’s item.” He stated with a wry smile on his face that allowed for no retort even if you had any. The teen just frowned in puzzlement but before she could say anything, the old door creaked to let someone in.
The newcomer seemed to take up whatever little space was left at the entrance, brown outdated trench coat and multiple layers of clothes making him appear larger than he really was. His hair was shaggy and blonde and needed some trimming, wavy locks falling over his kind blue eyes that shimmered behind his simple glasses. He put the large black umbrella in the basket beside the door, and huffed a bit, in good nature.
“Oh my, here I thought the weather forecast had included rain…” That earned a snicker from the man behind the counter. “As if they ever get anything right…” The light haired man just waved away the other’s words and was about to retort when fell on the girl, taking on a puzzled look.
“Oh, goodness. A customer?” He smiled kindly at the girl, who had yet to mutter a single word. If the dark haired man’s indirect gaze made her chest tingle, this man’s attention made her feel as if her heart had swollen up until it was about to burst. She clenched the item in her pocket, out of nervous habit.
“Yes, a rather special one, at that” Was the simple reply from the man behind the counter. That made the girl’s face crunch up in a confused frown but the ‘lighter man’ just exchanged a knowing gaze with the other. She gazed up at the newcomer and that’s when her eyes fell on a small brooch strapped on the coat’s lapel. It was just a simple pin of a tiny alarm clock - something one wouldn’t usually wear in clothing but it went oddly well with the man’s old fashion sense. In fact, it wasn’t hard to guess that this man was the real owner of the shop and that the other was probably only filling up for him. The girl took the small item from her dress pocket and gazed at the tiny alarm clock pin on her palm, her eyes glancing up at the similar one on the man’s chest. They were identical, save for the color - while hers was black like a raven’s feathers, the man’s was light like the warm morning sun.
“Um…” Her eyes travelled from the blonde man to the dark haired man, who was moving from behind the counter, his eyes on the simple dark pin, his hands tense as if his fingers were twitching to hold it. The girl tensed a bit at that - at the thought that the man would take this important item from her, even if it felt right. This simple clothe pin felt like a piece of the man, as little sense as that made. She felt warm comforting hands on her shoulders and gazed up at the other man’s kind, knowing smile.
“Now, now we wouldn’t want to cause this lady any sadness, would we?” He said, glancing at the other man, who seemed to gather some sort of control over himself and just scowled, shoving his hands in his dark trench coat’s pockets. The middle-aged looking man just smiled beatifically and gently guided the girl around, opening the door to the slightly emptier streets, the tall man following them both and shutting the door tightly behind them. The girl just clutched the pin nervously - not because of them, no, because they felt comfortingly familiar, like some old acquaintances one had total confidence on, some distant relatives, whose warmth she felt would fade should she part with this brooch that her late grandfather had left her.
As they stood on the slightly darkened streets glancing around aimlessly, the now slightly jittery man let out a surprised sound and started rushing down the street, leaving the other man flailing a bit.
“Dearest, where are you going?” He asked as he hurried after him, the girl following them both like a shadow.
“Just remembered something!” Came the single reply and if anyone found it strange to see such two distinct men and a teenager rushing through the streets at this hour of the night, they didn’t glance twice.
Finally, they reached their destination - and old decaying mall, its once white walls now grayed with dirt from exhaust pipes and further darkened by the broken street lamp on the corner of the sidewalk. The entrance was tiny and the inside was just as claustrophobic, with barely any space in the hallways, not to mention the shops with merchandise that wouldn’t feel out of place in a museum. It was hard to imagine someone would be needing something from this kind of place, lest of all this man - dressed in the latest fashion and quality clothes, unlike his counterpart that was the ‘lighter man’. Again, the girl glanced at the small clock pin on her hand and back at the other. Even if it felt out of place when compared to this man’s fashion sense, she couldn’t help but feel it completed him. Said dark haired man was currently busy shuffling through some small items, stored in a dark corner of the cramped store - this one didn’t feel the slightest bit warm or welcoming like the small liquor shop had. One quick glance proved them all to be children’s clothe pins and the girl once again frowned, her smaller-than-usual hand tightening around the tiny alarm clock. She wasn’t a child anymore, so why was he selecting something like that for her?
With a triumphant exclamation, the man turned with a toothy grin that wouldn’t look out of place in a serpent directed to the other man, and presented her with a pin of a small blue teddy bear, trying to look nonchalant about it and ignoring the approving gaze from his companion.
“I know it’s not the same but…just for your trouble?” He proposed with a slight quirk of his eyebrows, his golden gaze questioning from behind the sunglasses.
I reached out for the small item being offered to me and touched it lightly. I smiled as my heart filled with a content feeling from my childhood and finally opened my other hand, silently letting him take what was rightfully his - a piece of his essence, of his long lost Grace he had parted with so long ago. The small black clock pin glinted when he touched it, and the lighter one on the label of the other man’s coat glowed softly, as if in response. And even though I parted with such an important item, the two beings felt as warm to me as they’d felt before - shining brighter with another piece of their power restored.
Believe it or not, this was actually a dream I had. How else would I come up with the crazy notion of 'antique water bottles' as a collector's item? XDDD Lmao my brain is so weird... Also, I usually hate self inserts but I couldn't help it - I was in the dream. Which is totally unusual for me, to dream of myself. But when I do, I'm always younger. It's safe to say I'm not thirteen anymore. The switch to first person in the last paragraph is entirely intentional.