Author: Isis
Fandom: Good Omens
Type: slash
Pairing: Crowley/Aziraphale
Rating: PG-13
Notes: People who encouraged me to read Good Omens should have expected this, eheh. Criticism very welcome, as I'm not sure if I've quite gotten the hang of these characters yet.

Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale somewhat-fluff. Drabble.

Disclaimer: Good Omens and all its associated characters belong to Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman.


"You know, that arrangement we had -- " began Aziraphale.

"What arrangement?" Crowley sounded nonchalant.

"You know. The Arrangement," gasped Aziraphale, in what was clearly Capital Letters.

They never really talked about the Arrangement. It had always remained unspoken, a You-Mind-Your-Own-Business-And-I'll-Mind-Mine type of situation, where the two shared something of a nominal friendship (although neither would quite readily give voice to the thought), albeit a friendship with a clear No Interference clause, in Times New Roman font, size twenty-four, bold, and printed in bright red ink.

"Hmm," replied Crowley thoughtfully, as he licked a wet trail up the graceful curve of the angel's jawline. "Ducks," he added, absentmindedly.

"Not today, it's raining," replied Aziraphale automatically, shivering slightly under the demon's ministrations. "Anyway. Don't you think this is...pushing things a little?"

"Not really," said Crowley, biting down on Aziraphale's earlobe.

Despite himself, the angel made a small, pleasured noise, then flushed guiltily.

"He's not going to be happy at all, you realise."

Crowley snorted. "I doubt mine'll be breaking out the champagne, either." He deftly removed Aziraphale's shirt, then proceeded to undo the angel's belt.

Aziraphale looked vaguely distressed. "'s not right. I'm an angel, and you're -- " he gestured helplessly.

" -- damned good with my tongue, if I may say so." The demon shrugged elegantly, and proceeded to give the angel a demonstration of just how good he was.

"You were never," -- Aziraphale sucked in a deep breath of air -- "very humble."

"It's one of my better points," agreed Crowley. He removed Aziraphale's belt, and made short work of the rest of his clothes.

"Besides," he added, "it works for both of us. I tempt, you agree, we both get Heavenly pleasure, and all that jazz."

"Leviticus," murmured Aziraphale, with some difficulty. Coherent thought was not coming quite so easily at this point.

"Angel. Genderless," Crowley reminded him, but as if to contradict himself, his hand found its way to a decidedly male part of Aziraphale's anatomy.

Aziraphale proceeded to discover that no matter how much one did not wish them to do so, these human forms tended to take on a life of their own when it came to certain matters. It was rather inconvenient, to say the least. (The thing was, he wasn't quite so sure about how much better his control would be in his angelic form, but he refused to dwell on that point at the moment.)

"Since we haven't been struck down by now," said Crowley, hovering thoughtfully over a very naked Aziraphale, "this is probably also part of that...ineffable plan."

"...ineffable. Right," agreed Aziraphale, deciding that he was too far gone to really care at this point, and wishing that Crowley hadn't chosen quite such a time to go contemplative on him.

"I do wish we didn't have to have this discussion every single time, though," said Crowley conversationally, before proceeding to ravish Aziraphale for the fifth time that week.