Fic: A Direct Line (Good Omens)
Title: A Direct Line
Pairings: Crowley/Aziraphale
Wordcount: 666
Summary: For Rhosyndu, who gave me a GO prompt of Top Gear. Sorry, it's a bit short, but I hope you like it!
Disclaimer: Contains wilful misuse of other people's characters.
--
Crowley was lounging on his immaculate sofa, one leg thrown over the arm, humming to himself. Aziraphale, coming in through the door that had opened automatically at his approach, took the latter as an unmistakable sign that there was low-level mischief in progress, but he couldn't fathom what. Crowley appeared to be doing nothing more sinister than watching television. Admittedly, one that wasn't actually plugged into the mains.
Peering over the top of his sunglasses, Crowley gave him a casual wave and returned his attention to the screen.
"What are you up to?" asked Aziraphale, settling himself carefully next to him, and producing a bottle of vintage champagne from a satchel that hadn't looked big enough to contain it.
"What makes you think I'm up to something?" objected Crowley. "I'm hurt." He smirked.
"Other than the fact that you're always up to something, mostly because you were humming," rejoined Aziraphale tartly, handing him a glass. "It's a definite tell. I wouldn't take up poker anytime soon if I were you."
Crowley snorted. "Poker? I invented the game. Got bored with it eventually. Having said that, I've been meaning to give it another go ever since they came up with a strip version." He grinned wickedly at Aziraphale who coughed and changed the subject.
"What are you watching - oh, Top Gear?"
"Yeah. I like Clarkson's views on pedestrians," murmured Crowley approvingly.
"I'd always rather assumed he was one of your lot anyway," said Aziraphale.
The demon laughed. "I think he's just naturally talented."
There was a pause, as they drank and watched. There seemed to be some sort of music poll being carried out.
Aziraphale noticed out of the corner of his eye Crowley gesturing at the phone every now and then.
"What are you up to?" he asked again when curiosity began to get the better of him.
Crowley sighed. He knew the angel would quietly and politely nag him relentlessly until he explained. "It's a phone in thing. For the best driving song ever. I'm stacking the vote for Bat Out Of Hell." He smiled. "It's driving them nuts."
"It's not the world's most fiendish plan, is it?" said Aziraphale, making a mental note to vote for the Queen option purely to annoy Crowley. "Not that I'm encouraging anything worse, you understand," he added hurriedly, noticing the demon laughing into his drink.
"Oh, but it's given me an idea. Phone in competitions. All those thousands of gullible people eager to answer a blindingly obvious question in the hope of winning something pointless. If I can convince the people in charge to fix the result, think of the ripple effect. A tiny act of cheating, that affects thousands of people at once all over the country."
"But won't the voters be blissfully ignorant? More than they are already, anyway," Aziraphale added in an undertone. He disapproved of quiz questions that didn't involve proper research and preferably a library.
"That's the beauty of it. I'll make sure they do find out. All at once. Mass irritation and loss of trust over something they'd never have won anyway." Crowley stretched, cat like, and gave Aziraphale a self-satisfied smile.
"I should thwart you," said the angel, half-heartedly. Crowley shifted closer on the sofa, and slid one well-manicured hand over his leg. Aziraphale caught his breath, but Crowley kept going, until he grabbed the bottle on the other side of Aziraphale's lap and pulled it towards him.
"Or you could have another drink," Crowley suggested airily, pretending he was oblivious to the angel's reaction. Smiled as Aziraphale's hand came to rest over his on the neck of the bottle.
"Or I could distract you until you forget about it," Aziraphale murmured.
"Is that sort of behaviour allowed?" teased Crowley.
"Oh I think so. All in the line of duty and so on. I really don't see how Anyone could complain." Aziraphale assumed an expression of pious righteousness, which he maintained right up to the moment Crowley's lips met his.
--
Pairings: Crowley/Aziraphale
Wordcount: 666
Summary: For Rhosyndu, who gave me a GO prompt of Top Gear. Sorry, it's a bit short, but I hope you like it!
Disclaimer: Contains wilful misuse of other people's characters.
--
Crowley was lounging on his immaculate sofa, one leg thrown over the arm, humming to himself. Aziraphale, coming in through the door that had opened automatically at his approach, took the latter as an unmistakable sign that there was low-level mischief in progress, but he couldn't fathom what. Crowley appeared to be doing nothing more sinister than watching television. Admittedly, one that wasn't actually plugged into the mains.
Peering over the top of his sunglasses, Crowley gave him a casual wave and returned his attention to the screen.
"What are you up to?" asked Aziraphale, settling himself carefully next to him, and producing a bottle of vintage champagne from a satchel that hadn't looked big enough to contain it.
"What makes you think I'm up to something?" objected Crowley. "I'm hurt." He smirked.
"Other than the fact that you're always up to something, mostly because you were humming," rejoined Aziraphale tartly, handing him a glass. "It's a definite tell. I wouldn't take up poker anytime soon if I were you."
Crowley snorted. "Poker? I invented the game. Got bored with it eventually. Having said that, I've been meaning to give it another go ever since they came up with a strip version." He grinned wickedly at Aziraphale who coughed and changed the subject.
"What are you watching - oh, Top Gear?"
"Yeah. I like Clarkson's views on pedestrians," murmured Crowley approvingly.
"I'd always rather assumed he was one of your lot anyway," said Aziraphale.
The demon laughed. "I think he's just naturally talented."
There was a pause, as they drank and watched. There seemed to be some sort of music poll being carried out.
Aziraphale noticed out of the corner of his eye Crowley gesturing at the phone every now and then.
"What are you up to?" he asked again when curiosity began to get the better of him.
Crowley sighed. He knew the angel would quietly and politely nag him relentlessly until he explained. "It's a phone in thing. For the best driving song ever. I'm stacking the vote for Bat Out Of Hell." He smiled. "It's driving them nuts."
"It's not the world's most fiendish plan, is it?" said Aziraphale, making a mental note to vote for the Queen option purely to annoy Crowley. "Not that I'm encouraging anything worse, you understand," he added hurriedly, noticing the demon laughing into his drink.
"Oh, but it's given me an idea. Phone in competitions. All those thousands of gullible people eager to answer a blindingly obvious question in the hope of winning something pointless. If I can convince the people in charge to fix the result, think of the ripple effect. A tiny act of cheating, that affects thousands of people at once all over the country."
"But won't the voters be blissfully ignorant? More than they are already, anyway," Aziraphale added in an undertone. He disapproved of quiz questions that didn't involve proper research and preferably a library.
"That's the beauty of it. I'll make sure they do find out. All at once. Mass irritation and loss of trust over something they'd never have won anyway." Crowley stretched, cat like, and gave Aziraphale a self-satisfied smile.
"I should thwart you," said the angel, half-heartedly. Crowley shifted closer on the sofa, and slid one well-manicured hand over his leg. Aziraphale caught his breath, but Crowley kept going, until he grabbed the bottle on the other side of Aziraphale's lap and pulled it towards him.
"Or you could have another drink," Crowley suggested airily, pretending he was oblivious to the angel's reaction. Smiled as Aziraphale's hand came to rest over his on the neck of the bottle.
"Or I could distract you until you forget about it," Aziraphale murmured.
"Is that sort of behaviour allowed?" teased Crowley.
"Oh I think so. All in the line of duty and so on. I really don't see how Anyone could complain." Aziraphale assumed an expression of pious righteousness, which he maintained right up to the moment Crowley's lips met his.
--