Drabbles and Ficlets: Good Omens, Various Ratings
Two shorter pieces of Good Omens fic:



Author's Note: This was inspired by a passage of medieval Latin, translated here in the middle (italicized) section.

"C'mon, Aziraphale. It's part of the Arrangement. 'We agree to engage in reciprocal fulfillment of the other's duties whenever outside obligations should prevent the other from doing so himself.'"

"I hardly think, Crowley, that your little jaunt counts as an obligation."

"It's a working holiday, angel."

"Hardly sounds like work to me," Aziraphale muttered.

Crowley grinned. "Just because your lot's idea of a working holiday is that ghastly Children's Crusade-"

That was a touchy subject. Aziraphale glowered at him. "Don't, Crowley. Just - don't."

The demon decided not to push his luck. "Anyway, it's been two centuries and I haven't asked you once yet, have I? Meanwhile, you've had me performing miracles left and right."

"I hardly think two minor cures count as 'left and right', my dear."

"Still, I did a goo- a fine job with them, didn't I? And I hardly complained, either."

"No more than you usually do," Aziraphale allowed.

"So then it's decided. I'll pop off for the week, and you'll stay here and tempt this schoolboy for me."

"Schoolboy? You want me to tempt a child? That's hardly fair, Crowley."

"No, no, it's an easy temptation. Trust me, angel, I'm starting you off gently. No one expects me to tempt a twelve-year-old into anything serious. You just stop in and encourage the little bast- little tyke to skip lessons or not do his maths homework or something, and call it a day."

"That doesn't sound that difficult," Aziraphale agreed.

"You just encourage his natural childish instincts. Piece of cake. Even you can do a goo- bad job with this one."

Aziraphale sniffed. So Crowley thought he couldn't even manage the most minor of temptations, eh? Well, he'd show the demon. The miracles he'd performed for him really had been quite good, after all. Suspiciously good. Aziraphale was still expecting the incidental evil consequences to sneak up on him any day now.

***

In the church there once was a certain schoolboy. One time, when this youth was unable to compose verses from the material his teacher had assigned and was sitting sadly in his room, a demon appeared in the form of a man. When he asked, "What's wrong, boy? Why are you sitting here so sadly?" the schoolboy replied, "I am afraid of my teacher, because I can't write verses on the theme which he set." The demon then cunningly asked him, "Will you serve me, if I write your poem for you so well that everyone will admire it?" The boy, not understanding that the man was a demon, replied, "I am prepared to do whatever you tell me to, so long as I have that poem and don't get the beating that the teacher will give me otherwise."

After dictating a poem to the boy, the demon left. When the boy gave his teacher the poem, he was struck by the excellence of the verses, and said, "Tell me who wrote this for you." At first the boy replied, "I did," but when the teacher refused to believe him and asked again and again, he finally confessed everything. Then the teacher said, "Boy, the poet who helped you thus was certainly a demon! Always fear that tempter and his works, my dear." And so the schoolboy abandoned the devil and his works.
Caesar of Heisterbach, Miracula

***

"Explain, angel." Crowley shoved a piece of parchment under Aziraphale's nose.

"'In re: unauthorised attempt to secure an underaged immortal soul for Our L - yes, well - without proper documentation.' Crowley, is this a reprimand?"

"Yes it bloody well is, and it's your fault! Why the h- in heav- what on earth possessed you to try and secure a twelve-year-old's soul for my side when all I asked you to do was get him to ignore his homework?"

"I did do his homework for him, you know. Poor boy's Latin is really rather hopeless. And the teacher was going to beat him if I didn't. I couldn't have that. But - I just - you were such a dear about the miracles, you know, and I - I wanted to do a good job at it."

"Bad job," Crowley corrected absently. "Well, you've made quite a mess of things. Immortal Soul Agreements is the worst department for bureaucracy, and Down There, that's saying something. There's paperwork that has to be signed, you know. In triplicate. And in blood."

"Well, I could hardly get hold of that, could I?" Aziraphale snapped. "I just wanted to show you I was trying! Excuse me for that!"

Crowley looked startled for a moment, then a slow smirk spread across his face. "Angel," he teased, "were you trying to impress me? With your tempting abilities?"

Aziraphale looked uncomfortable, but shot back, "Oh, and I suppose you healed two lepers, complete with dazzling light show and absolutely no repercussions, evil or even moderately malignant, out of the non-existent goodness of your heart?"

Crowley winced. "You don't have to be such a bastard about it," he muttered. "It's just - I mean, we're practically in the same line of work, if you think about it, in a way -" Aziraphale snorted - "tempting humans, redeeming humans, it's two sides of the same coin, isn't it, and you and I understand that far better than Down There or Up There, thus the Arrangement, and, well, a demon likes to take a certain pride in his work and all that." He trailed off into uncertain silence.

"I suppose I do have a lot to learn about tempting," Aziraphale offered, by way of conciliation.

Crowley perked up at that. "Is that an offer to let me teach you, angel?" He waggled his eyebrows lewdly.

"NO!"





"I think the Perrier's gone straight to your head, angel," Crowley protests, trying (not very hard) to dislodge Aziraphale's head from its resting place on his shoulder.

"Nonsense!" the angel asserts, contorting somehow so that Crowley's latest effort to escape ends with his arm around Aziraphale's shoulders. "It's just a little fizzy water."

"Well, something's obviously wrong with you. How else do you explain ... this?" He gestures to encompass the situation.

"What's wrong with this? It's cozy."

"We're- we're touching," Crowley blurts.

Aziraphale stiffens and begins to move away. Crowley, suddenly regretful, kisses him before he can think twice.