(no subject)
This was originally meant as a pinch-hit Yuletide story for the people who I thought were daegaer and foreverdirt. However, it wasn't required.
It's still written for them, though, so Happy Christmas, chaps.
It was, Aziraphale thought, enough years after the Events that they were almost used to the changes Adam had put in place.
Aziraphale was, despite his best efforts, considered the leading bookseller in his field and had been forced to resort to blatant surliness to avoid his shop being packed with irritatingly enthusiastic collectors who would squeak excitedly at him.
He would occasionally point out to Crowley that, as the demon's eyes no longer had slit pupils, he no longer had to wear sunglasses. Crowley would simply smile knowingly and, a little while later, Aziraphale would find himself...
Well. When Adam restored Aziraphale's body, he hadn't realised that angels were genderless. Which meant Aziraphale had received a standard issue male body.[1] Crowley had somehow - neither of them were quite sure
how - ended up with the same. (Though Crowley insisted his was far from standard issue and, reluctant as Aziraphale was to encourage vanity, he couldn't help but agree.)
And that had led to whole new exciting discoveries, such as *why* humans were so easily tempted by nothing more than the sight of an attractive member of the appropriate sex walking down the street.
"Crowley," Aziraphale said one day, as they lay in bed, the sun bright against the polished wooden floor. "Have you noticed anything strange?"
"I'm a demon, you're an angel," Crowley said lazily, his head resting on Aziraphale's chest. "Strikes me as pretty damn strange."
Well, yes. But, thankfully, Heaven and Hell appeared to be ignoring the entire thing. "I meant," he said carefully, "have you noticed anything different."
"What do you mean?" Crowley asked. "There's nothing different. Nothing's changed for..." He stopped. "Oh."
"Yes," Aziraphale agreed. "Don't you think that's a little suspicious?"
"But is it actually *bad*? Good, I mean."
"It certainly isn't normal. And I thought he was meant to be restoring normality."
"He was meant to be doing whatever he wanted to do. He was the Anti-Christ."
"Still is, apparently," said Aziraphale.
Crowley sat up. "Oh, Go- Lor- Jes-. *Bother*. Does that mean the Apocalypse is back on the schedule?"
"Well," Aziraphale said doubtfully, "it was meant to happen when he was eleven."
"He still is eleven."
"Oh dear." And Aziraphale managed to make it sound like a four-letter word.
***
The journey to Tadfield took less than an hour, in light traffic, with Allegri's Miserere playing on the perfectly balanced stereo.
And, yes, now they thought about it, it did all seem a little suspicious.
***
Adam wasn't disguising himself any more so it was simple to find him, along with the rest of Them, in the Pit. Today, it seemed, they were playing a game based around a series of films. Pepper was armed with a
sword similar to the one she had held Back Then, ie, two pieces of wood and a length of string. Brian was happily mudcaked, crouched by the pond and hissing something about a ball of tinfoil being his precious.
Wensley was holding a long stick and arguing with Adam, who was wearing a crown. And maybe it was just a twisted branch but, if Aziraphale *shifted* his view slightly, it was also shining silver set with rubies. "Oh, *dear*," he whispered.
"But you can't be king, yet," Wensley said. "That doesn't happen till the third book."
"Don't see why," Adam said. "Seems to me, if he's going to be king one day, he might as well be king today."
Wensley blinked fiercely and opened his mouth but then he stopped. After a moment, he nodded. "You're right. Don't see why he can't be king in the first film."
"We're all going to die," Crowley said. "Or be inconviently discorporated. I liked this body as well."
"So did I," Aziraphale said absently.
"You two shouldn't be here," Adam said, turning to face them.
Aziraphale was sure they hadn't spoken loud enough to be heard. But then, they probably didn't need to even speak for Adam to hear them.
"Come out."
And they didn't even consider not obeying.
"Why are you here?"
Aziraphale glanced at Crowley who didn't appear to be considering speech, so Aziraphale cleared his throat. "You're going to destroy everything."
Adam sighed with exaggerated patience. "No, I ain't. I'm just tweaking things a bit. Make 'em a bit better."
"You decided against that before."
"Then I was doing big changes. Now I'm just doing little ones."
"That's how your father started," Crowley said darkly. "I know. I was there."
"Do *they* know you're changing them?" Aziraphale asked, nodding towards Them, who were menacing a horde of orc. Or, strictly speaking a horde of frog. "What would they think of it?"
"You didn't mind being changed," Adam said archly. "I could tell what you wanted an' I gave it to you."
"Er..." Crowley and Aziraphale looked at each other, looked away and looked back.
"So, you, er, wanted...?" Crowley asked.
"Well, I didn't really know what I wanted. Until I had it. So to speak." Aziraphale developed a sudden interest in the cuff of his overcoat.
"Gosh," said Crowley.
Eventually, he cleared his throat. "Okay, this one worked out well. But you've got to put everything else back."
"And let time move on," Aziraphale added. "Let people grow up."
Adam's mouth tightened rebelliously. "Shan't."
"Why not?"
Adam stared at the angel like he was an idiot. "Why would I want to grow up? Grown-ups are all boring. Even Anathema started to get boring once that silly Newt moved in."
Aziraphale and Crowley looked at each other, stumped by Adam's reasoning. "Well, we're grown-ups," Crowley finally offered. "Sort of. And we're not boring."
Adam's expression downgraded Crowley from 'idiot' to 'brains of a pedigree setter'. "You're *dead* boring," he pronounced. "Both of you."
"It's relative." The voice came from behind Adam and was filled with the weight of pronouncement. Aziraphale and Crowley, in perfect synchronisation, leaned away from each other to look round Adam. The voice belonged to Wensley, who was slowly walking towards them.
"What've my mum and dad got to do with it?" asked Adam, confused.
"Don't bring his father into it, *please*," Crowley muttered.
"No." Wensley shook his head sharply. "I mean, when we were just starting school, the big kids seemed really old and boring, didn't they? Because they just had, like, bikes and things. They didn't have." He frowned in thought, obviously trying to remember something they had played with aged five.
"Rabbit-shaped scooters," Adam offered and Aziraphale had a sudden flash of a blue rabbit on wheels, Adam sat astride it.
"Yeah, rabbit-shaped scooters," Wensley agreed. "And now we *are* the big kids and we have bikes instead of rabbit-shaped scooters and it isn't boring at all."
Adam considered it. "Maybe," he said doubtfully.
"Why don't you at least give it a go?" Aziraphale asked.
"If you reach a point where you don't like it, you can always stop time again," Crowley said and Aziraphale kicked him.
Adam straightened. "Do you want me to put *everything* back?"
"Of course," Aziraphale said, before thinking. "Oh. Everything. I see." He looked at Crowley. Crowley looked at him. "Well, I suppose it would be a bit hypocritical," Aziraphale said quietly.
"I'm a demon. I'm supposed to be hypocritical." But there was no conviction and Aziraphale sighed and took Crowley's hand. He wasn't particularly surprised that Crowley didn't object, even though he'd never agreed to holding hands before.
"Very well. Everything." Crowley squeezed his hand and Aziraphale squeezed back.
And then the world seemed to jump to the left and step to the right and an Adam who looked to be about sixteen was standing in front of them.
Aziraphale blinked. "Shouldn't you be about twenty by now?"
Adam shrugged. "Don't want to rush things," he said with a grin. "And I guess I couldn't change *everything* back." He still had the ability to look remarkably innocent. "You're kind of stuck with those bodies."
Aziraphale opened his mouth but before he could even think about what he was going to say, a female voice yelled from the edge of the Pit. "Adam! Get up here - we've got to leave *now* if we're going to make the film!"
"Pepper?"
Adam shook his head. "Pippin."
Aziraphale considered things. "Wouldn't Galadriel be more appropriate?"
"Nah." Adam's grin widened. "She's still Pep, no matter what she's called. Gotta go."
And with that, he scrambled up the bank and was gone.
Aziraphale nudged an elderly frog with his foot. The frog croaked a complaint and lethargically hopped away. "Well. I don't know what we did there."
"But the world doesn't *seem* to be about to end." Crowley frowned suspiciously. "Though you never can tell."
"And there are no parents involved."
"Hmm. You know what he said about our bodies?"
"Yes?"
"Do you think we should check he was telling the truth?"
Aziraphale looked puzzled. "Well, mine certainly feels exactly the same. All the, er, extra bits seem to be there."
Crowley sighed. "I meant, do you think we should check *in detail* that our bodies are the same? Submit them to *lengthy examination*?" Aziraphale still looked confused. "I *meant*," Crowley said, "do you want to go back to London and shag?"
"Oh!" Aziraphale blushed. "Gosh. Yes. That would be quite nice."
***
The traffic was murder and they listened to the Greatest Hits of Queen all the way.
Aziraphale couldn't have been happier.
[1] The body hadn't actually had wings. But Aziraphale had expected to
have wings and so he did. They were a little larger and more perfectly
formed than they had originally been but they fit Aziraphale's perception
of them precisely.
NB: I've always thought the ending of Good Omens was rather ominous. That little '...forever' tacked on at the end tends to make me shudder.
It's still written for them, though, so Happy Christmas, chaps.
It was, Aziraphale thought, enough years after the Events that they were almost used to the changes Adam had put in place.
Aziraphale was, despite his best efforts, considered the leading bookseller in his field and had been forced to resort to blatant surliness to avoid his shop being packed with irritatingly enthusiastic collectors who would squeak excitedly at him.
He would occasionally point out to Crowley that, as the demon's eyes no longer had slit pupils, he no longer had to wear sunglasses. Crowley would simply smile knowingly and, a little while later, Aziraphale would find himself...
Well. When Adam restored Aziraphale's body, he hadn't realised that angels were genderless. Which meant Aziraphale had received a standard issue male body.[1] Crowley had somehow - neither of them were quite sure
how - ended up with the same. (Though Crowley insisted his was far from standard issue and, reluctant as Aziraphale was to encourage vanity, he couldn't help but agree.)
And that had led to whole new exciting discoveries, such as *why* humans were so easily tempted by nothing more than the sight of an attractive member of the appropriate sex walking down the street.
"Crowley," Aziraphale said one day, as they lay in bed, the sun bright against the polished wooden floor. "Have you noticed anything strange?"
"I'm a demon, you're an angel," Crowley said lazily, his head resting on Aziraphale's chest. "Strikes me as pretty damn strange."
Well, yes. But, thankfully, Heaven and Hell appeared to be ignoring the entire thing. "I meant," he said carefully, "have you noticed anything different."
"What do you mean?" Crowley asked. "There's nothing different. Nothing's changed for..." He stopped. "Oh."
"Yes," Aziraphale agreed. "Don't you think that's a little suspicious?"
"But is it actually *bad*? Good, I mean."
"It certainly isn't normal. And I thought he was meant to be restoring normality."
"He was meant to be doing whatever he wanted to do. He was the Anti-Christ."
"Still is, apparently," said Aziraphale.
Crowley sat up. "Oh, Go- Lor- Jes-. *Bother*. Does that mean the Apocalypse is back on the schedule?"
"Well," Aziraphale said doubtfully, "it was meant to happen when he was eleven."
"He still is eleven."
"Oh dear." And Aziraphale managed to make it sound like a four-letter word.
***
The journey to Tadfield took less than an hour, in light traffic, with Allegri's Miserere playing on the perfectly balanced stereo.
And, yes, now they thought about it, it did all seem a little suspicious.
***
Adam wasn't disguising himself any more so it was simple to find him, along with the rest of Them, in the Pit. Today, it seemed, they were playing a game based around a series of films. Pepper was armed with a
sword similar to the one she had held Back Then, ie, two pieces of wood and a length of string. Brian was happily mudcaked, crouched by the pond and hissing something about a ball of tinfoil being his precious.
Wensley was holding a long stick and arguing with Adam, who was wearing a crown. And maybe it was just a twisted branch but, if Aziraphale *shifted* his view slightly, it was also shining silver set with rubies. "Oh, *dear*," he whispered.
"But you can't be king, yet," Wensley said. "That doesn't happen till the third book."
"Don't see why," Adam said. "Seems to me, if he's going to be king one day, he might as well be king today."
Wensley blinked fiercely and opened his mouth but then he stopped. After a moment, he nodded. "You're right. Don't see why he can't be king in the first film."
"We're all going to die," Crowley said. "Or be inconviently discorporated. I liked this body as well."
"So did I," Aziraphale said absently.
"You two shouldn't be here," Adam said, turning to face them.
Aziraphale was sure they hadn't spoken loud enough to be heard. But then, they probably didn't need to even speak for Adam to hear them.
"Come out."
And they didn't even consider not obeying.
"Why are you here?"
Aziraphale glanced at Crowley who didn't appear to be considering speech, so Aziraphale cleared his throat. "You're going to destroy everything."
Adam sighed with exaggerated patience. "No, I ain't. I'm just tweaking things a bit. Make 'em a bit better."
"You decided against that before."
"Then I was doing big changes. Now I'm just doing little ones."
"That's how your father started," Crowley said darkly. "I know. I was there."
"Do *they* know you're changing them?" Aziraphale asked, nodding towards Them, who were menacing a horde of orc. Or, strictly speaking a horde of frog. "What would they think of it?"
"You didn't mind being changed," Adam said archly. "I could tell what you wanted an' I gave it to you."
"Er..." Crowley and Aziraphale looked at each other, looked away and looked back.
"So, you, er, wanted...?" Crowley asked.
"Well, I didn't really know what I wanted. Until I had it. So to speak." Aziraphale developed a sudden interest in the cuff of his overcoat.
"Gosh," said Crowley.
Eventually, he cleared his throat. "Okay, this one worked out well. But you've got to put everything else back."
"And let time move on," Aziraphale added. "Let people grow up."
Adam's mouth tightened rebelliously. "Shan't."
"Why not?"
Adam stared at the angel like he was an idiot. "Why would I want to grow up? Grown-ups are all boring. Even Anathema started to get boring once that silly Newt moved in."
Aziraphale and Crowley looked at each other, stumped by Adam's reasoning. "Well, we're grown-ups," Crowley finally offered. "Sort of. And we're not boring."
Adam's expression downgraded Crowley from 'idiot' to 'brains of a pedigree setter'. "You're *dead* boring," he pronounced. "Both of you."
"It's relative." The voice came from behind Adam and was filled with the weight of pronouncement. Aziraphale and Crowley, in perfect synchronisation, leaned away from each other to look round Adam. The voice belonged to Wensley, who was slowly walking towards them.
"What've my mum and dad got to do with it?" asked Adam, confused.
"Don't bring his father into it, *please*," Crowley muttered.
"No." Wensley shook his head sharply. "I mean, when we were just starting school, the big kids seemed really old and boring, didn't they? Because they just had, like, bikes and things. They didn't have." He frowned in thought, obviously trying to remember something they had played with aged five.
"Rabbit-shaped scooters," Adam offered and Aziraphale had a sudden flash of a blue rabbit on wheels, Adam sat astride it.
"Yeah, rabbit-shaped scooters," Wensley agreed. "And now we *are* the big kids and we have bikes instead of rabbit-shaped scooters and it isn't boring at all."
Adam considered it. "Maybe," he said doubtfully.
"Why don't you at least give it a go?" Aziraphale asked.
"If you reach a point where you don't like it, you can always stop time again," Crowley said and Aziraphale kicked him.
Adam straightened. "Do you want me to put *everything* back?"
"Of course," Aziraphale said, before thinking. "Oh. Everything. I see." He looked at Crowley. Crowley looked at him. "Well, I suppose it would be a bit hypocritical," Aziraphale said quietly.
"I'm a demon. I'm supposed to be hypocritical." But there was no conviction and Aziraphale sighed and took Crowley's hand. He wasn't particularly surprised that Crowley didn't object, even though he'd never agreed to holding hands before.
"Very well. Everything." Crowley squeezed his hand and Aziraphale squeezed back.
And then the world seemed to jump to the left and step to the right and an Adam who looked to be about sixteen was standing in front of them.
Aziraphale blinked. "Shouldn't you be about twenty by now?"
Adam shrugged. "Don't want to rush things," he said with a grin. "And I guess I couldn't change *everything* back." He still had the ability to look remarkably innocent. "You're kind of stuck with those bodies."
Aziraphale opened his mouth but before he could even think about what he was going to say, a female voice yelled from the edge of the Pit. "Adam! Get up here - we've got to leave *now* if we're going to make the film!"
"Pepper?"
Adam shook his head. "Pippin."
Aziraphale considered things. "Wouldn't Galadriel be more appropriate?"
"Nah." Adam's grin widened. "She's still Pep, no matter what she's called. Gotta go."
And with that, he scrambled up the bank and was gone.
Aziraphale nudged an elderly frog with his foot. The frog croaked a complaint and lethargically hopped away. "Well. I don't know what we did there."
"But the world doesn't *seem* to be about to end." Crowley frowned suspiciously. "Though you never can tell."
"And there are no parents involved."
"Hmm. You know what he said about our bodies?"
"Yes?"
"Do you think we should check he was telling the truth?"
Aziraphale looked puzzled. "Well, mine certainly feels exactly the same. All the, er, extra bits seem to be there."
Crowley sighed. "I meant, do you think we should check *in detail* that our bodies are the same? Submit them to *lengthy examination*?" Aziraphale still looked confused. "I *meant*," Crowley said, "do you want to go back to London and shag?"
"Oh!" Aziraphale blushed. "Gosh. Yes. That would be quite nice."
***
The traffic was murder and they listened to the Greatest Hits of Queen all the way.
Aziraphale couldn't have been happier.
[1] The body hadn't actually had wings. But Aziraphale had expected to
have wings and so he did. They were a little larger and more perfectly
formed than they had originally been but they fit Aziraphale's perception
of them precisely.
NB: I've always thought the ending of Good Omens was rather ominous. That little '...forever' tacked on at the end tends to make me shudder.