"Aziraphale debated internally a bit, but curling his arm up around Crowley's shoulder really was more comfortable. He knew he was being silly. He knew a dance was nothing and if it made Crowley happy after his feelings had apparently been hurt it wasn't much to ask, but-it was the demon. He had the literally infernal...
A place to store shorter Crowley/Aziraphale fiction. I totally can write things that are not all 15 chapters of slowburn long. Contains adult content. Pretty vanilla, but there is reasonably explicit content, please be aware. First story: Tudor England. Crowley tries to dress Aziraphale up appropriately to deliver te...
That was no way to think, just because a stupid ex-nun misinterpreted a blamelessly hostile situation. That way lay madness. That way lay an angel with disapprovingly pursed lips and pitying pale eyes and "My dear boy, I'm so *very* sorry, but..." and Armageddon would come as a relief after that, really.