Fic. Post. (I hope I don't mess up the cut.)
Title: Breaking All The Rules
Pairing: Aziraphale/Crowley
Rating: Not sure. R, just to be safe.
Summary: Something's different in the air.
Disclaimer: Crowley and Aziraphale are Mr. Gaiman and Mr. Pratchett's. 'Breaking All the Rules' is Ozzy Osbourne's and this fic, for better or for worse, is mine.
Notes: This short fic was inspired by finding an old Ozzy Osbourne cassesette. The story I would like to write would involve the whole song (this fic only includes tidbits) and would be much longer...but I'm only just know starting to write fanfiction so I figured I'd start small and move on from there. =) Also: There is a line in the fic inspired by/taken from Mr. Gaiman's blog (the July 25th post). Just thought I should include that here.
Buckets of thanks to b_c_draygon for her help. =]
Crowley paused as he stepped into the bookshop. Something felt different today. He looked around. Nothing had changed. No...it wasn't physical. The difference was...in the air. It was the, oh, wossname. Atmosphere. Yeah.
"Aziraphale?" Crowley questioned the air. He didn't get a response.
Hands fiddling with trademark sunglasses lowered to their sides as the demon began to wander through the little store.
"Aziraphale?" he tried again, louder than the last time.
It was as he made his way into the back room of the shop that the air finally answered. From right next to his ear.
"Crowley."
Arms were invading personal space and he was being pulled up against something warm and decidedly Aziraphale shaped.
'Well I know I could be just another stranger, but to you I guess I'm just another fool.'
The pristine hands that were now toying with his expensive suit and running themselves over his stomach certainly -looked- like the angel's hands. And they certainly -felt- like the angel's hands. And if they looked like it and felt like it...
"Aziraphale."
It valiantly tried to be a statement but definitely sounded like a desperate question.
"Do you love me Crowley?"
The question took the demon by suprise. He was so suprised, in fact, that he very nearly forgot to register that aforementioned hands had removed his coat and were working on undoing his shirt buttons from behind. He very nearly forgot to shudder at the hot breath that warmed his neck. He very nearly forgot that the organ inside his chest did not necessarily need to be beating quite that fast.
With less than a thought he stopped it.
"What kind of a question is that?"
A hand pushed up black shades where they had slidden. The other remained clenched in a fist by his side.
The demon was putting on a brave face, but this particular angel loved the theatre and could spot a bad actor a mile away.
"One that merits an answer."
And Crowley found his shirt being pulled off him, the remaining button or two sailing away.
He was silent while one arm clung to him by the waist and the other directed itself lower to cup one organ Crowley could do nothing about. The demon swallowed harshly as his shoulders met with air-light kisses.
'And you swear you like to live your life in danger, then you hide behind a wall of silly lies.'
The pristine hand that had sauntered toward his nether regions found it's way into Crowley's sleek black pants.
"Aziraphale."
The stalwart little statement was ruined again, this time by sounding like the bastard child of a gasp and a moan.
"Do you love me, Crowley?"
For an angelic appendage that particular hand sure seemed to know what it was doing.
The other helped hold the demon up as he leaned back into a shining bare chest that would support him through his climax.
'Nobody thinks the way I do, I guess that nobody dares. Your head's so full of things, so set your mind free of them'
The angel smiled as the back room of the little bookshop was filled with Crowley's answer.
'I'm breaking all the rules.'
Pairing: Aziraphale/Crowley
Rating: Not sure. R, just to be safe.
Summary: Something's different in the air.
Disclaimer: Crowley and Aziraphale are Mr. Gaiman and Mr. Pratchett's. 'Breaking All the Rules' is Ozzy Osbourne's and this fic, for better or for worse, is mine.
Notes: This short fic was inspired by finding an old Ozzy Osbourne cassesette. The story I would like to write would involve the whole song (this fic only includes tidbits) and would be much longer...but I'm only just know starting to write fanfiction so I figured I'd start small and move on from there. =) Also: There is a line in the fic inspired by/taken from Mr. Gaiman's blog (the July 25th post). Just thought I should include that here.
Buckets of thanks to b_c_draygon for her help. =]
Crowley paused as he stepped into the bookshop. Something felt different today. He looked around. Nothing had changed. No...it wasn't physical. The difference was...in the air. It was the, oh, wossname. Atmosphere. Yeah.
"Aziraphale?" Crowley questioned the air. He didn't get a response.
Hands fiddling with trademark sunglasses lowered to their sides as the demon began to wander through the little store.
"Aziraphale?" he tried again, louder than the last time.
It was as he made his way into the back room of the shop that the air finally answered. From right next to his ear.
"Crowley."
Arms were invading personal space and he was being pulled up against something warm and decidedly Aziraphale shaped.
'Well I know I could be just another stranger, but to you I guess I'm just another fool.'
The pristine hands that were now toying with his expensive suit and running themselves over his stomach certainly -looked- like the angel's hands. And they certainly -felt- like the angel's hands. And if they looked like it and felt like it...
"Aziraphale."
It valiantly tried to be a statement but definitely sounded like a desperate question.
"Do you love me Crowley?"
The question took the demon by suprise. He was so suprised, in fact, that he very nearly forgot to register that aforementioned hands had removed his coat and were working on undoing his shirt buttons from behind. He very nearly forgot to shudder at the hot breath that warmed his neck. He very nearly forgot that the organ inside his chest did not necessarily need to be beating quite that fast.
With less than a thought he stopped it.
"What kind of a question is that?"
A hand pushed up black shades where they had slidden. The other remained clenched in a fist by his side.
The demon was putting on a brave face, but this particular angel loved the theatre and could spot a bad actor a mile away.
"One that merits an answer."
And Crowley found his shirt being pulled off him, the remaining button or two sailing away.
He was silent while one arm clung to him by the waist and the other directed itself lower to cup one organ Crowley could do nothing about. The demon swallowed harshly as his shoulders met with air-light kisses.
'And you swear you like to live your life in danger, then you hide behind a wall of silly lies.'
The pristine hand that had sauntered toward his nether regions found it's way into Crowley's sleek black pants.
"Aziraphale."
The stalwart little statement was ruined again, this time by sounding like the bastard child of a gasp and a moan.
"Do you love me, Crowley?"
For an angelic appendage that particular hand sure seemed to know what it was doing.
The other helped hold the demon up as he leaned back into a shining bare chest that would support him through his climax.
'Nobody thinks the way I do, I guess that nobody dares. Your head's so full of things, so set your mind free of them'
The angel smiled as the back room of the little bookshop was filled with Crowley's answer.
'I'm breaking all the rules.'