I'm Up Too Late Again
Apr. 11th, 2007 01:16 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tanarillToday is the eighth day of the Omer, which is one week and one day into the Omer.
I'm not Jewish anymore, I think. I'm Pastafarian. But I started counting the Omer so I'm damn well going to count the Omer!
Title: ASRPxGO 7
Fandoms: Do I still have to disclaim by this point? Don't own, not making money, the end.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Dan talks
Traveling to Dan’s home, the way Dan did it, as both like and unlike traveling to Hell. And, as he saw from Aziraphale’s expression, it wasn’t like going to Heaven either. Just barely unlike, so that he almost felt as if he were going to Hell and there was a moment of panic that they’d finally decided to destroy him and then he was out the other side, in a tastelessly expensive foyer.
“Freakshow, dipshit,” called Dan cheerfully, “I’m horny!”
Someone, whose voice carried a lot further than it should have, or bypassed the intervening space entirely, said, “You’re always horny. I want waffles.”
“Make them yourself,” and it was the comfortable sound of an old argument, well-worn and loved. "And anyway, I brought guests,” said Dan, offended. “I can’t make waffles. Why can’t you make waffles?”
“I,” said the other voice, offended, “am making tea. Aziraphale understands that value of a good cup of tea.”
“I like teabags!”
There was a moment of silence, while Aziraphale turned beet red the echoes rang and then someone swooped in from about ceiling height to full body tackle Dan. There was an impression of black and chains and absolutely huge wings and then the wings somehow vanished and Dan was kissing–if kissing were really a word that applied to tonsil hockey as a competitive sport–someone who owned his soul as clearly as he owned theirs.
Aziraphale coughed in the background. It went like this: “They really shouldn’t do that in public,” which switched to “this is their own home and thy have a perfect right to kiss,” to “is that healthy?” and finally to “Oh.” This last because Dan had just given off another burst of energy; not the orgasmic kind, more a pulse of happy and contented and sheer joy. Aziraphale’s kind of feeling.
It was at this point that the other person noticed Aziraphale, and turned more or less the same color. Dan either didn’t notice or didn’t care, because what he said was, “Look, I found an angel.” In the same tone as five-year-old would say, “Look, I found a frog” for show-and-tell.
“Oh,” said the person weakly. And then, in an eyeblink his wings were back, half-shielding him from Aziraphale’s gaze (now more interested than offended). “Um. Tea?”
“That sounds wonderful,” said Aziraphale heartfully, now that it was quite apparent that this wasn’t the supposed-to-be god.
The other person smiled, shyly.
Crowley could have sworn he caught the moment when the two decided to become friends.
That couldn't been done better. I have to sleep now. I'll prolly edit heavily and repost later.
I'm not Jewish anymore, I think. I'm Pastafarian. But I started counting the Omer so I'm damn well going to count the Omer!
Title: ASRPxGO 7
Fandoms: Do I still have to disclaim by this point? Don't own, not making money, the end.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Dan talks
Traveling to Dan’s home, the way Dan did it, as both like and unlike traveling to Hell. And, as he saw from Aziraphale’s expression, it wasn’t like going to Heaven either. Just barely unlike, so that he almost felt as if he were going to Hell and there was a moment of panic that they’d finally decided to destroy him and then he was out the other side, in a tastelessly expensive foyer.
“Freakshow, dipshit,” called Dan cheerfully, “I’m horny!”
Someone, whose voice carried a lot further than it should have, or bypassed the intervening space entirely, said, “You’re always horny. I want waffles.”
“Make them yourself,” and it was the comfortable sound of an old argument, well-worn and loved. "And anyway, I brought guests,” said Dan, offended. “I can’t make waffles. Why can’t you make waffles?”
“I,” said the other voice, offended, “am making tea. Aziraphale understands that value of a good cup of tea.”
“I like teabags!”
There was a moment of silence, while Aziraphale turned beet red the echoes rang and then someone swooped in from about ceiling height to full body tackle Dan. There was an impression of black and chains and absolutely huge wings and then the wings somehow vanished and Dan was kissing–if kissing were really a word that applied to tonsil hockey as a competitive sport–someone who owned his soul as clearly as he owned theirs.
Aziraphale coughed in the background. It went like this: “They really shouldn’t do that in public,” which switched to “this is their own home and thy have a perfect right to kiss,” to “is that healthy?” and finally to “Oh.” This last because Dan had just given off another burst of energy; not the orgasmic kind, more a pulse of happy and contented and sheer joy. Aziraphale’s kind of feeling.
It was at this point that the other person noticed Aziraphale, and turned more or less the same color. Dan either didn’t notice or didn’t care, because what he said was, “Look, I found an angel.” In the same tone as five-year-old would say, “Look, I found a frog” for show-and-tell.
“Oh,” said the person weakly. And then, in an eyeblink his wings were back, half-shielding him from Aziraphale’s gaze (now more interested than offended). “Um. Tea?”
“That sounds wonderful,” said Aziraphale heartfully, now that it was quite apparent that this wasn’t the supposed-to-be god.
The other person smiled, shyly.
Crowley could have sworn he caught the moment when the two decided to become friends.
That couldn't been done better. I have to sleep now. I'll prolly edit heavily and repost later.
