Unbelievably Godawful Omens [Good Omens - Crowley - M] Part 2/2 COMPLETE!

[snuffles]

This is a fanfic of Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett. All the normal disclaimers apply, I don't own these characters.

BACKGROUND: Aziraphale (Angel) and Crowley (Demon)

http://juliedillon.d...rowley-55328304

Are the corresponding representatives of Heaven and Hell on Earth. They are friends after a fashion due to being thrown together as the only other being that each other has known for 6000 years. This fic takes place a month after the end of the book, corresponding spoilers to be expected. I know I have unfinished other fics in progress, but this is just a short fluff piece stemmed from a compulsive need to write Crowley. (I'm sorry MaiMai!)

---

PART 1

“Would sir have another glass, sir?” inquired the table’s personal attending sommelier of the prestigious La Flamin' Sord in central London. The attendant who, while holding aloft the bottle of 1982 Chateau Lafleur Pomerol, suggested in a tone of disapproval that patrons with no appreciation for the finest of wines should be beheaded. In that, he would have been about as far from wrong as possible. The apparently prim but modestly dressed Englishman seated before him might very well have been the world's the most appreciative patron of the finest wines.

But the tonal slur bypassed right over the patron’s head. The Englishman stopped fidgeting with his watch and looked up in surprise.

“Oh I’m so sorry. What was it you were saying? Oh? Yes yes my good man, top it up. My thanks.”

The attendant sniffed loftily and poured the silken liquid with bad grace. The Englishman tipped the glass in the habit of thanks and made a show of swirling the full fragrant aroma but by then his attention had already wandered.

Aziraphale drummed his fingers impatiently at the table as he glanced at his watch for the fifth time that minute. That guy was LATE. They had these reservations for a month now, and seating wasn't easy to come by, even for him. He picked up his third glass, twirled it absently in his fingers, and downed half of it in one go. Ordinarily such a callous disregard for as fine a wine as this would rank up there near one of the deadly sins. Today however, his own imagination had provided a wealth of distractions such that he paid it no attention.

Surely nothing could have happened. Admittedly the worse already had, what with the Apocalyptic "End of the World" last month. But nothing else could have happened, right? He fidgeted again as a lost gerbil on an exercise wheel. The tapping increased and the stuffily dressed couple at the next table shot baleful glances over their shoulders.

A dark figure slumped so suddenly in the opposite chair that Aziraphale nearly dropped his wine glass. He caught himself just in time and he righted it before the precious liquid could tip over. The personal attendant wasn’t so lucky and the bottle slipped out of his hands. Aziraphale waved his hands and the bottle simply floated delicately to the floor. [it also landed fully upright complete with a refill]. He leaned down but froze in mid-bend as he noticed the shape in front of him.

"My God." said Aziraphale straightening up. "You look like..."

"Hell?" the other figure replied. "Yeah I dnow." He was dressed in a disheveled black suit with shades, his normal suave and cool black hair looked uncharacteristically unkempt, and a strange pinkish tinge to his nose highlighted the sharp features of his face. Then he snapped forward.

"hisss-kuCHH!"

The sommelier nearly tripped himself, bottle completely forgotten, in an attempt to escape the spray.

Aziraphale gapped. "God bless you!" he exclaimed. "What happened?"

"Dudno. Probably Hastur. He's beed wadti'g revedge sidce our little skirmish last modth. I-hhh..." he paused as he turned aside. When nothing happened he cursed in a hissing ancient tongue of languages that made Aziraphale cringe inwardly. A few patrons cast more unsavory glances in their direction.

The attendant brought himself upright in an affronted flash. “Sir!” he said testily. “We do not speak-“

“go away.” Crowley glared at the attendant. The tone hadn’t been loud but it spoke in waves of a deep demonic evil that could not be disobeyed by mere humans.

"You're not... ill... are you?" asked Aziraphale, his voice saturated with equal amounts of shock and wonder while completely ignoring the frantic man dashing out of the door. He then bent down to pick up the newly filled bottle of wine.

Crowley lowered his shades and glared at the angel in a way that suggested he really didn’t want to waste his voice answering that question. The demon's normally sharp slitted yellow eyes stared out at Aziraphale in a glassy fever.

"Dno, of course dot." Crowley hissed as he replaced his shades. "I rather like drippi’g like a tap." He hurled forward with another explosive “HiSS-TCHHHuh!”

"I only meant, well... can demons even fall ill? I mean, it's a human ailment isn't it? I mean..."

"I dnow what you bead!" Crowley growled as he pulled out a handkerchief from his breast pocket. From the looks of it, Aziraphale guessed it had already seen its fair amount of daylight today. The angel tapped his own pocket where a crisp sheet magically appeared on demand. He had never, in his 6000 years on this Earth, fallen ill himself but Aziraphale knew the intricate fashion of 16th century handkerchiefs when he needed one. He passed it to Crowley who accepted it without ceremony, laces and all.

"Can't you... magic it away? Or something?" Aziraphale suggested as Crowley blew his nose. The incredibly itchy and wet sound of it tempted a few more curious, brave, and incredibly stupid patrons to peek their heads in the pair's direction.

"Ngh. Tride." Sniffed the demon. He leaned back into the seat and massaged the swollen sinus between his eyes. "By bagic's dnot worki’g id seebs. I tride add just get this spidding headache. Add by dose just wod stoh... hh’hiih-hisss-schhhew! Stoh... HiSSTCHH! Dabbit!"

"God bless." repeated the angel.

"Yeah ride." said Crowley wearily. Then he brightened. "Hey, you dod't thigk you cad miracle it away?"

Aziraphale hesitated. He hated to see his fr... his companion... so run down. Even during the Apocalypse, Crowley never allowed himself to seem less than cool if he could help it. [Crowley had even initiated the current fad of riding flaming cars through London as the height of fashion for weeks.]

"Well, I could try..."

Crowley rolled his eyes. He could sense a "but" forthcoming. When the pause lengthened, he supplied it.

"But?"

"Well... an angel healing a demon and all. It might just attract, you know, unwanted attention from... Up There." he jerked his head toward the ceiling.

Crowley slumped back into his seat. "Oh, ride. It's okay, I'mb fide, really. Really. I cad last this wod oud." He rubbed his nose again as the latest tickle played hells with his sinus.

Crowley wondered, not for the first or last time, just how humans had endured through their lives for a full 6000 years with these symptoms. He had barely woken 6 hours ago with a flaming sore throat and an accursed nose so damned ticklish that he sneezed himself through every spare piece of soft cloth he could find in his flat. Demons never stocked tissues: it was unnecessary and, more importantly, uncool. But he found himself at a lost to magic even one box into existence just when he needed one most.

"But I can help at least." said Aziraphale manically, hoping to redeem himself in some way. "Let me take you back to your place. I can make you my homemade chicken soup. I'm rather good, you know. When my neighbor 300 years ago fell ill, he gave me his recipe and I..."

"I dot deed soup." Crowley snapped. "I'll just order here. We're here already ared't we? Add adyway I..." his face slackened as the telling signs flashed across his face. His nose flared like the deep pits of purgatory. "Huuh-" His breath wavered. The demon’s brows scrunched together as the spasm consumed his body in a rapid explosion.

"Hiss-xCCHH’ih! Hhh'hisssxgcch!"

“Bless you Crowley.”

“Dot… finissss-CHH’hih! Issxchh!” He held his pose, his body thrown forward with the angel’s laced handkerchief held up almost crushing his nose. For a few dangerous seconds, it almost seemed as if the prickling sensation decided to play. Then he gave up and slumped wearily, defeated not by Heaven nor Hell nor the Four Horsemen themselves but instead by a mere human ailment. He sighed.

“Bless.” Said the angel.

“Hng.” came the reply. Up until this point Crowley had rather liked humans. They were devilishly interesting and twisted the world around them in ways that no demon could even dream of. Hell had made him a sort of de facto representative, and he emulated humans in his own demonic fashion. But he had never wanted to actually BE one. Much less one with a hell of a cold. Perhaps THIS was the reason humans were so bad tempered all the time. Humans had to deal with the threat and potential of illness from invisible attackers from all directions. All the time! For 6000 years! The evil demonic influences of infernal damnation in hell had got nothing on THIS!

The itching alone made him want to claw his face out. Even the deepest pits of hellfire torture couldn’t compare to the incessant, unrelenting and unscratchable itch lodged in his nose. The overwhelming burning and downright ticklish sensation made bathing in a volcano seem like a pleasant sauna. Then there was the sneezing. And more sneezing. And even more sneezing. True, Crowley had experimented with sneezing eons ago but as only as a way to feel what it was like. Some humans seemed to enjoy it and it peaked his curiosity to find out why. He hadn’t found the experience particularly liberating even then. But in retrospect, his trials had been such that they could be turned off on demand. Now it seemed his nasal appendage lost the switch or had malfunctioned to be locked in the SNEEZE ON position.

And THAT had only been the first five minutes!

Then the dripping started and in no time at all he became an itchy, sneezy, dripping mess. Belatedly he recalled that humans covered or blew their nose but by then he had no power at all to even magic one box of tissues. He managed to find a supply of dishcloths but it chafted his already irritated nose. His sides ached, his head felt hot, fuzzy and swollen, his throat hurt, he could barely breathe properly, and still his nose insisted on sneezing!

He curled in bed miserable and alone, coughing woodenly between sneezing fits, until a clock chimed noon and he recalled his lunch appointment. He cursed all seven levels of hell but he knew Aziraphale only too well. The angel wouldn’t believe a simple phone message, even if that blasted angel ever bothered to get a cell phone. He crawled out of bed, wincing and holding his sides as his muscles spasmed from the abuse, and threw on some clothes…

"Soup does sou'd good." he admitted weakly.

"Excellent!" Aziraphale beamed. "Let me just take care of this and we'll pick up ingredients along the way." He glanced up and only just realized their personal attendant had long gone. The remaining patrons hurriedly whipped around and returned their attention back to their meals. So Aziraphale flagged down another waiter and handed over his Platnium Heavenly One Mastercard.

Crowley glared at the card. "Must you really?"

"I have to pay for the drinks I've ordered." said the angel with his expression of infinite patience as someone reciting the same old line for the past thousand years.

"I meadt the card. I have cash, led's just get oud of here. It's too stuffy as it is." Crowley complained.

"I get double travel miles if I use the card." said Aziraphale frowning.

"Fuh... hhhuh-hissschhh'uh! ischh! Fide!" he said with a sniff as he swiped the cloth napkin from the restaurant's tabletop. As an extra measure, he pocketed Aziraphale's one as well. "I'll brigg the car arowd. Meet be out frodt."

"Bless. Should you really be driving? We can take a cab."

"I'b dot leavi'g the Bedtly pargked in valet. I'll be... hih… hisschh'hih! Hh’hish-xgchhuh! I'll be fide!"

"Bless. But Crowley, be reasonable. You can't even get through one sentence without sneezing." Aziraphale chided.

Crowley opened his mouth to reply but another sneeze shook him anyway. "Hissschhu!" He glared the angel daring him to pass comment so Aziraphale shrewdly remained silent. Then Crowley stormed out.

---

Another point Crowley hadn't realized until today was how much he unconsciously relied on his powers while driving. His 1926 vintage Bentley never had even a scratch on it [for long] and traffic simply whisked aside as he navigated even the most crowded streets during rush hour.

Luckily the streets of London weren't packed on this lazy Sunday afternoon but Crowley was having difficulties concentrating. After Aziraphale's apt comment, Crowley bit his lip and held back the ticklish torment in his nose by pure will. He'd be damned [well, further damned since he was a demon after all] if he'd allow the stuffy angel any more satisfaction. But his nose wasn't the only symptom competing for his attention. His head, throat, and sinus, by now, were screaming like the souls in the pit.

His hands automatically reached for his cassette but he changed his mind. Freddie Mercury would only make his headache worse. He lowered his shades and rubbed his face in a distracted haze as the maze of traffic lights rolled by. He massaged the back of his aching neck then slowly brought his hand around to scratch a finger under his nose. His nose flared and twitched seductively.

Sneeze. His mind chanted. No. He told it firmly. Sssneeze, you know you need to. No! Jussst once. It hissed like a snake.

"Shud up!" he shouted.

"What?" Aziraphale gasped.

"Dot you. Him." Crowley scoffed. Him. The one Crowley knew best. Himself. His own mind. The mind of the serpent of Eden. It was bad enough to be talking to himself but to be tempting himself?? Him?! He’d be offering himself apples next…

"Turn here." said Aziraphale

"Whut?"

"There." pointed the angel as the street hurled past.

"Why?" said Crowley annoyed but he turned the wheel sharply in a quick U-turn.

"Ingredients. And tissues by the look of it."

"Fide. Just bake it quick." he scoffed. Crowley rubbed his nose again. He needed to... no, he didn't.

Aziraphale let the scathing comment drop. He had known Crowley for 6000 years, thrown together and bonded by a common polar mission. He could see the demon shaking and he knew well enough when not to press matters.

Crowley screeched to a park sharper than strictly necessary and he immediately regretted it. But he flipped the engine off, pulled out the restaurant's cloth napkin, and let loose the fit of sneezes into it.

"Hissschhuh! hussshCHH'uh! Issschh’hih! HUH-SCHHHU!"

"Bless you." said Aziraphale patiently.

"Dodt you… hh’hhissgxch! hab shoppig to do?" growled Crowley as he blew his nose.

"Right. I'll be right back." said the angel as he slipped out of the car. Being on the side of good, Aziraphale always insisted on BUYING his produce unlike Crowley who preferred to simply magic them into existence. In any case, using more magic around the demon might not be the wisest move at this time. He'd just run into the mart for a few items. And tissues. A lot of tissues. A lot.

---

Aziraphale returned to find Crowley asleep in his Bentley. He frowned. Angels, forever vigilant, never slept but Aziraphale knew that this demon was generally rather fond of it. But now it seemed Crowley's physical body leeched weariness and Aziraphale hesitated as to how he should go about waking his companion. This was sailing on uncharted territory here.

"Crowley?" he knocked politely. "Crowley??" he said a bit louder this time after the first unsuccessful response. The demon's breath drew heavily as his head lulled to the left.

"Crowley!" Aziraphale called.

The demon jerked upright, his eyes momentarily in sharp alert, as his brain filtered in recent events. Then he saw the angel through the tinted glass and he relaxed. Without warning he lurched forward, almost hitting the steering wheel as he sneezed “HSSS-CHHHEW!”

"Bless you Crowley, now be a doll and let me in. I bear gifts." he lifted the bags of tissues into view and the demon grunted but unlocked the door. Aziraphale slipped into the passenger seat.

"Did you buy the lotiod odes?" Crowley asked.

"Yes."

"I hade the lotiod odes." he scowled.

"You've never tried them." said the angel astutely.

"Dodt deed to. Was by idea you dnow. I jus... hhhuh- I just... hhh-"

"I bought the normal ones as well." said Aziraphale with a nod.

"HiSS-gxchhuh!"

"And the ultra-soft." he said opening a box.

"hiss'CHH’hih!"

"And the extra-large family size." he said handing a tissue to Crowley.

"isssh'CHHHU-uh!" He groaned but took the proffered tissue and blew his nose.

"God bless." said Aziraphale.

"Stob sayi'g thad." said Crowley. "If HE wadted to bless be, I'd be healed ahready."

"Nevertheless." said Aziraphale.

Crowley would have rolled his eyes but even that hurt. He rubbed his face, his eyes heavy with fatigue. His flat wasn't far but it might as well have been across the country. He could barely keep his eyes open... he just wanted to...

"Let me drive, Crowley."

The demon hissed at him, his eyes suddenly glowing yellow in slits of fever. Then they fazed as his breath hitched. "hhh… huhh-hissJCHHU!"

"God bless you Crowley. Now let me drive."

"You cadt drive." said Crowley shaking his head. "Add dot. by. Bedtley."

"I have a license. And your Bentley would be safer in my hands than yours at the moment." he said resolutely. "In any case, your place is not far. I am an angel you know. Your car will be safe."

Crowley looked like he could spit nails but his body shook and he broke down in a fit of sneezing so harshly that Aziraphale grimaced. "HESHH-CCCHH’hih! HiSSCHH! uh... HUSSGXCHH! IXSCHHH!"

"Bless." said the angel.

Crowley glared at him. "If you so mbuch as scradtch..."

"Yes yes, now move over Crowley." said Aziraphale stepping out and around the car.

The demon did so with extreme reluctance and held onto the steering wheel until the angel whapped his hands sharply.

"Hey!" he protested.

"Let go. How do you expect me to drive if you’re still holding onto the wheel?"

"You've dever eved..."

"I've seen you do it." he said calmly as he got in. "You just move this stick and put this here and..." the car jerked suddenly and Crowley hissed and grabbed his seat.

"You're doi'g it wrog. Jus' led me..."

"You stay there unless you want me to magic you back asleep." said the angel. Crowley knew Aziraphale enough to know the threat wasn’t idle. Aziraphale might be an angel but he wasn’t against a good smiting if necessary. So Crowley bit his comments back and let the angel get on with it.

Amazingly Aziraphale wasn't all that bad at driving half the speed limit and Crowley found himself to be biting back a sneeze in place of one of his agitated comments. The last thing he wanted was to sneeze and cause the angel to crash. So he pinched his nose tightly in a failed stifle.

"His’GXCH!"

"Bless. And don't do that Crowley, it's not good for you."

"esGXCH! TSXCCH! hsss-GXCCHU!"

"Bless."

"Aaargh! Dambit! Aren't we there yed?"

"Almost."

"Hisschhhew!"

"Hold on. Right, we're here. Do you have the parking garage key?"

"Whud? Oh. Ride." Crowley said as he opened his glove compartment and fumbled for his key card. He never used one before to get inside, the gates always and only just magically rose to let him in. But he knew he had one somewhere and fished it out from under the Best of Queen tapes.

Aziraphale slowly and safely maneuvered the Bentley into Crowley's VIP parking stall like a proud student driver. Then he turned off the engine and smiled brightly.

"There you go, safe and sound. After you, sir." the angel said pleasantly as he shut the driver's door.

Crowley groaned but fumbled for his keys and let themselves up to his executive suite.

to be cont.

Edited February 20, 2014 by snuffles

[Akahana]

This......is wonderful <3 (maybe Azira should catch his cold?//shot)

[TheCakeIsAlive]

Ooh, lovely. I haven't read the book (yet), but I love how your story is very much in the quick, witty style of Pratchett (not very familiar with Neil Gaiman, so I couldn't say how like his style or the style of the book it is. ).

Absolutely enjoyed reading.

[SterlingSilver]

This is lovely~! <3 I really like their banter back and forth >w<~

And Crowley being so stubborn >w>~ Hehehe~

Very well done and I look forward to the next part!

[NorthernLady]

OMG I was so craving Sneezy Crowley these days! Thank you!!!!

And with your mention of 'him who is not to be named', you hit two bird with the same stone! I'm such a Lovecraft fanatic!!!

[AngelEyes]

This is fantastic! I love this book and you do a great job on the characters!

[LeapYearKisses]

The only thing you're missing is snarky footnotes, which I must admit would be hard to pull off on a forum. :3 I love Crowley's hissy sneezes!

[snuffles]

@Akahana: Aww sorry not at this time, but I shall definitely consider a future scenario!

@Cake: lol well honesly I'm not really familiar with Neil Gaiman either... I've just been on a TP binge.

@Blackscatter: Thanks! Their banter is what I just love in the book, they're so awesome together!

@Northernlady: LOL well ooops, any Lovecraft references were actually unintentional. I just needed a reason Aziraphale wouldn't go "BAM! You're miraculously healed by the grace of God!"

@Angeleyes: Thanks too!

@Leapyear: Actually I saw another fic that did a super amazing job of footnotes using quotes, but short of blatantly copying the style I just went with brackets [which you're supposed to imagine are footnotes but aren't]

ANYWAY all, this is the second and last part!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

PART 2

Aziraphale stopped so suddenly in the doorway of the flat that Crowley very nearly walked into him.

“Hey whud hh-… Hhhhss’SCHHU!” Crowley snapped forward and Aziraphale felt a cool mist lace the back of his neck. But the christening barely registered on the angel subconscious. In fact, registration circumvented Crowley completely as he bent double, eyes squeezed shut. The world narrowed to just the two intense prickling and itching points of his face. He gasped desperately, eyes tearing, almost begging for the relief to sneeh…

“Hisss-xgcch’uh!”

“Bless.” Said Aziraphale automatically in a far off tone.

“Hih-hsschh’hih! Hhh-Ishh’uh!” Stifling had been a mistake, he now knew.

“Bless.” Repeated the angel.

“Hhh-!” then the sensation fizzled. Crowley blinked and attacked at his nose in annoyance. He glared at the angel’s back. “Ugggnn… why are you stoh… stobbing? Ged a move od wuh… will you?”

“Your place… looks different.”

“Yeah redovaded. Id a way. I-hhh…” He gasped as the prickling feeling returned with vengeance.

“Last time, might have been a few decades perhaps?”

“Hss-jtchh’huh! Isshh’uh! HSSGXCCH! Uhh… snff… yeah, few fires, somb ubgrades, subscribed to the homb remodeli’g ndetwork. [£29.99 per month, all inclusive package] hhh… Huuh-skcccch’uh!“

“Bless.” Aziraphale blinked and turned to look back at the demon. He knew Crowley liked to live in grandeur but this, he mentally swept the field of the suite, this was incredible.

In fact, but for the pile of used towels and clothing tossed on seemingly mint conditioned furniture, the room may have radiated a sort of coldness, an unlived in feeling, a moment frozen in perfection. Only those foreign items, out of place and time itself, cast any sort of warmth. He hesitated and looked down, almost as if it were breaking sacrilege to cross the threshold.

“Hhh-Hss-kishhu! Uh…Hsshew!” Crowley stumbled and grasped the door frame for support but Aziraphale grabbed his arm and held him firmly. From the angel’s gentle figure, Crowley hadn’t expected such a strong grip.

“Crowley, you’re burning up.” Said Aziraphale with concern as he raised his other hand to Crowley’s forehead. “And when I say that about a demon, that’s saying something.”

“Sss’nothi’g” he slurred in weak hissing tones.

“Let’s get you inside, shall we?” said the angel as he supported Crowley over the threshold, not looking back. The door swung shut with the barest breath of air behind them.

Crowley staggered but Aziraphale led him in toward his nearest uncluttered sofa. He tossed aside a single dishcloth lounging innocently on it and eased the demon down.

“Ughss…” groaned Crowley as he rubbed his head.

“Are you ok, Crowley? Do you need anything?”

Crowley tensed, his face crumbled into expressive display of expectation, and sneezed harshly in reply. “hih… HiisssxCHH!” The angel laid the box of tissues on the coffee table within reach and the demon immediately grabbed a handful to muffle even more sneezes into.

“I'll, uh, make you some tea, shall I?"

"I'd prefer a scodtch." Crowley said as he grabbed another handful of tissues.

"I don't think..." Aziraphale began.

"Alcohol kills bagteria. Humads use id all the tibe id hospidals add stuff."

Aziraphale paused thoughtfully. He indeed knew some humans to carry an amulet of alcohol, pouring one drop on their hands as if to ward off evil. Crowley just knew that was what the angel was thinking but he didn't push the matter.

Eventually Aziraphale shook his head. "Not at this time, I think."

"Add whed would be the ride tibe, pray?"

"Yes." said the angel.

Crowley sighed. "Just ged be thad tuh... Hss-chh! thad tea."

Bless. mouthed Aziraphale but obediently turned away.

---

Crowley’s kitchen seemed to not only have gotten a renovation since the last time Aziraphale had visited, but an upgrade, remodel, and expansion as well. The state of the art stainless steel appliances and cookery was enough to make even the most famous or expensive celebrity chefs [generally not the same person] cry strings of jealous profanities [Aziraphale had seen an episode of Hell’s Celebrity Kitchen. Even Crowley had been disturbed]. So for what purpose did the demon need a massive kitchen for twelve, the angel couldn’t fathom. Crowley obviously never used it. Only a single glass which smelled vaguely of scotch had been left in the sink.

Upon opening the refrigerator, he soon realized he hadn't needed to buy as much food items as he did. The demon's fridge was stocked with the most rich and lush vegetables and prime cuts of various meats. Even Crowley's spice rack featured freshly picked and exotic spices locked at their peak.

The rows of utensils and dishes were another jaw dropping reality. Aziraphale found enough plates to feed a legion of demons if Crowley ever bothered to use them. It simply shouldn't be possible to fit that many dishes into a cabinet half an arm length deep. How was he expected to find a tea kettle in all THIS?

He paused as a nagging feeling circled his brain. What was--? He turned. No-- it was… then the feeling passed. Aziraphale glanced around the pristine kitchen again. It must have been his imagination. It’s been a long day, and the angel knew it to be far from over.

---

It took Aziraphale even longer to find an appropriate teacup and by then the kettle sang quietly on the stove. By the time he removed it and allowed the distracted whistling to cool down to a sweet sigh, a soft snore echoed from the living area. Aziraphale poked his head around the corner to check on his companion. Crowley's face had flushed in a fever so tangible that the angel didn't need physical touch; he could almost taste the discomfort, so solid was the heat radiating off the body.

Demon or not, this was no ordinary cold. The angel frowned. Crowley must have been feeling worse than Hell iced over on a summer’s day if he allowed Aziraphale, who barely managed to pass a license [with some minor convincing to the licensing technician], to take the wheel of his car. The demon had become even more possessive over it since he had almost lost that car once already. The car gleamed. It broadcasted power and style. Crowley treasured it nearly more than life itself. [Well, someone’s life at least]

Aziraphale shook himself and turned back to the task at hand. Soup. He was here for soup. God knew there were enough ingredients here to feed an army. Still, the angel reached into his shopping bags for the few items he knew the demon never imagined he'd have a need for: like a thermometer.

The simple mundane human act of sorting, washing, dicing and chopping helped to calm his nerves. In no time at all, he had gotten the main ingredients for the broth to a simmer and set to start on his next task. He must have been imagining things all along, the assured himself as he reached for the bag of coconuts.

Suddenly it dawned on Aziraphale that the background sound from earlier had silenced. His skin prickled and he peered around the corner again. The coconuts dropped from his grasp in alarm.

A menacing glowing red fire had engulfed the motionless figure of the demon. Crowley wasn't breathing, but the demon fire swam in icy hot streamlines over his body.

"Crowley!" Aziraphale called, not daring to get closer. "Crowley?"

The figure moved as the fire burned brighter. It glowed to a white hot and singed the sofa and nearby furniture.

Aziraphale forced his breath to remain calm. "Crowley, wake up." He said softly.

The figure rolled his head up and sat unsteadily as it pawed his hand at his nose. Then he took a single breath and sneezed. HSSCHH. The shockwaves blew Aziraphale backward into the wall and the sound that followed reverberated like a volcano in hell. The angel winced as he brought his hands up to his ears. HSSCHH. Another wave of pure sound crashed into him. Crowley's 70" SSHDTV [super Special High Definition, special order] smashed. HSSCHH. The vase of a nearby houseplant cracked. A leaf drooped nervously.

Then the fire that engulfed Crowley flickered once and slowly went out. The demon blinked his eyes uncertainly and rubbed his head. Aziraphale waited but when the coast seemed clear, he lowered his hands.

"Crowley?"

"Hng?"

"Are you ok?"

"Whu? Ugh. Ss’by head. Feels like scemendt." he said groggily.

"Well, that's probably a side effect from being on fire." Aziraphale explained.

"S’whud?"

"You were glowing red fire, Crowley. You broke your television and nearly gave your plant a heart attack."

Crowley glanced up to the wall mount and noticed the smashed glass from his flatscreen as if something very very large had punched it. He groaned. That telly had been quite expensive. Granted he hadn't actually PAID for it, but still...

The demon's face scrunched up and Aziraphale immediately covered his ears.

"Hiss-gxchh!" he sneezed. The silence that echoed beat loudly around the room. The houseplant dropped a leaf. Aziraphale lowered his hands once it was obvious no further wonton destruction would follow. Crowley pulled a few tissues and blew his nose.

"Well, bless. Uh, that's a relief. Do you normally cause televisions to crack when you sneeze?"

"Sss’ff I did, I'd hab to buy ad least a billiond tellys already." He sniffed wearily.

"And your poor plant-"

Crowley shrugged. "Thad'ss nothi'g. A liddle terroristig threatedi'g every wodse id a while wou'd do id good."

Terroristic threatening? The thought circling his brain finally managed a hold.

"Don't fall asleep."

"Whud?"

"You were glowing red, Crowley. Don't fall asleep on me." Aziraphale glanced pointedly at the demon before ducking into the kitchen.

---

Why hadn’t he realized it earlier? Aziraphale headed straight to the sink and picked up the single malt glass that still remained untouched among the dishes: the only used item in Crowley’s otherwise pristine kitchen before the angel hit it. He turned it over, glanced at it, and sniffed it lightly. The scent of scotch could still be distinguished. But there was another. Not a smell, rather a sense. He swiped a finger along the lip and licked it. Yes. That was it.

---

Crowley scowled and leaned back into his sofa. He picked up his remote by habit but he threw it aside as he glared at the cracked screen. He sighed and rubbed his nose. God damn this infernal tickling! He didn't even bother to cover as the next fit erupted out of him. "Hiih-ssschhhew! Hih-Hss-xgchh! Hishchh'uh!"

Yuugh. He always thought humans sneezed to relieve pressure in their sinus. But given the amount of sneezing he’d already accomplished today, any more relief of pressure and he’d likely pop. And blowing his nose. Yeeack. It was no matter how much he blew, his nose produced even more and more fluids. He could hardly imagine that many liters of liquids in his body. Which brought him back to the sneeh...

"Hiss-xchh!"

Ugh! The pressure behind his eyes hurt his head. Crowley didn't remember glowing red but that wasn't something an angel would simply fabricate. Angels wouldn’t go around telling people they were alit from the internal fires of Satan. Ok well, humans might, but usually this angel didn’t. Speaking of meddling angels, just where was Aziraphale anyway?

Sleep. His mind tempted. Crowley shook himself and rubbed his face. No! He’d find the angel.

---

Aziraphale was rummaging in the fridge when Crowley spotted him. He opened his mouth but instead bent over with another sneeze. "Hissxchh!"

Aziraphale nearly dropped his glass and spun around. Then he sighed and grasped the countertop for support. Crowley stood hunched over in another sneeze. "Hsschh!"

"Crowley!" he exclaimed. "Don't sneak up on an angel!"

The demon frowned. "Wasdn't sdeaki'g." he sniffed. "Trust be, I'd dnow.”

“Crowley, where did you get this?”

“I was judt woderi’g-- whad?”

“This Crowley. Where did you get this?” Aziraphale held up a bottle.

“The scodtch?” he shrugged, the memory eluding his tired mind. “Was a presedt. I dodt—hey!”

This was to Aziraphale who uncorked it and took a swig from the bottle. It was a proper swig too, Crowley noted with satisfaction.

“Thought so.” Said the angel. “Holy water.”

“WHAD?” Crowley nearly stumbled backward.

“It’s very faint. Just the barest lace. I could sense it. I think it was slipped into the scotch just enough for it to be unnoticeable. But you didn’t drink the whole bottle, luckily for you, you only poured a drink. It lowered your defenses and made you vulnerable. I don’t think the illness was planned, angels and demons just don’t have the design build resistance to illness that humans do. It simply took a common human cold--”

“THAD HASDUR…” Crowley growled but the rage was stifled by an inopportune sneeze. “ih’HSS’KCHH!”

“Bless you Crowley.” Said Aziraphale as he emptied the scotch down the drain.

Despite it all, the demon laughed. “Guess I was, wasdt I?”

“Godly so.”

“Dodt seeb so pleased.”

“Oh and this!" He pulled a glass stick from his bag and before Crowley could protest, he popped the thermometer into the demon's mouth.

Crowley coughed and spat it out. "Zira!" he exclaimed.

Aziraphale looked mildly hurt. "It's a thermometer, Crowley. You didn't have one here. I just hope the mercury level reading goes up high enough. I don't think the cheap store varieties have ‘lower pits of hell’ labeled on them.” He frowned.

"Jus' ward a guy, please?" Crowley complained as he stuck the stick back into his mouth. Of course at that moment, his nose flared as a familiar tickle teased him. Couldn’t his nose even go a minute without sneezing? He doubted it. He fought back the sneeze as the seconds ticked by. Just as he thought he'd no longer hold it in, Aziraphale pulled it out. Crowley hurled forward in another pair of sneezes. "Hssxchh'uh! Hisssh’chh!"

When he looked up, he saw the angel's eyes furrowed.

"Whud?" asked Crowley.

Aziraphale remained silent as he looked at the reading from a different light. Then he held it out and stared again.

"Whud is id?" asked Crowley.

"37C. Or 98.6 if you prefer. Is that normal for a demon? You were on fire just a few minutes ago, in case you've forgotten. Or perhaps the stick is malfunctioning. You can never tell with the cheaper models." Aziraphale stepped past Crowley's guard and slipped a hand to the demon's forehead.

Crowley pulled away scowling. "Stob thad! By head's fide. It'ds jusd by dose that hhhuh... HSSKCHH!"

"Bless. Maybe the fire burned up your fever? Is that a demon’s bodily defense? In any case, at least you look better."

"I'b fide!" he repeated just as he hurled forward in another sneeze. "HESSCHHEW!"

“Bless.” Repeated the angel as he handed Crowley an unopened box of tissues.

Crowley ripped it open and grabbed a handful, blowing deeply. He sighed. Then a slow smile tugged a corner of the demon’s lips and an icy calm washed over the rage. Aziraphale shuddered and almost pitied Hastur.

“Well…” Crowley sniffed, changing the topic. “What'd you maki'g?"

"What? Oh! Grandma's chicken soup!" Aziraphale declared proudly. "Well, not MY grandma obviously but someone's grandma at least."

"Magke this often, do you?" He admired the full counter of multiple steaming pots and dishes. He couldn't smell a damned thing but no doubt it looked impressive if he had any appetite at all.

"Oh yes in fact. At least once every hundred years. I've gotten high compliments on it. I've won awards." he said defensively.

Crowley snorted which turned into another sneeze. "Hisschh’uh!"

"Not on the food, Crowley!" the angel scolded. “But bless you.” He added in a kinder tone.

“Thags.” Said the demon.

Aziraphale tried not to seem surprised as he added the final vegetables to his soup. Crowley thanking him for a blessing? Perhaps the fever did muddle his brain. Then he frowned. To get a proper broth, the soup needed to simmer for at least another few hours. Crowley looked like he might pass out in a few minutes. Aziraphale cocked his head and listened. Well after all, what was the good of being an angel if he couldn't even make chicken soup for an ill compa... a friend. He snapped his fingers and the broth foamed and turned to a rich and heavenly brown. He lifted a spoon and tasted it gingerly.

Crowley nodded, obviously impressed. He rubbed his nose. "Ugh, whad else did you do to by lobely kidchen? Whad are all these?" He added sweeping his hands over the other bubbling mixtures.

"Oh." said Aziraphale. "Well, you had such a lovely stock of fresh herbs and spices. Some quite rare and difficult to obtain in fact. I'm making you a surefire cold remedy syrup from “101 Interesting and Unusual Mixtures” by A.S.Paragus. And it IS interesting in fact because you see this one says 'frog's tongue' but you wouldn't guess it--"

"Zira." Crowley broke in while rubbing his head. "Lader please? You brougd the recipe widh you?"

"I memorized it of course. I have the original, in leather. Signed."

"Of course." Crowley said as he rolled his eyes. Aziraphale's obsession with old and rare first edition books bordered on worship. “Husss’kcchh!”

"God bless." Aziraphale said thoughtfully. "Now the soup's ready. Have a seat at the table and I'll bring the bowls out."

Crowley was about to argue at just who did the angel think owned this place? But he deflated and sniffed wetly. It’s just too difficult to maintain a menacing look with a nose streaming hot liquids. He needed a good blow, and possibly a shower. And maybe a week long cleanse in a Turkish bath.

---

The soup WAS good, Crowley admitted. The unusual combinations of herbs and spices stimulated his previously nonexistent appetite. The heat from the broth warmed his throat and body from the inside out. And the steam helped to clear is blocked sinus.

Unfortunately the first thing his newly discovered sense of smell careened into was the strong spices of Aziraphale’s soup. Crowley grabbed his napkin and sneezed. “Hih’iiisssh! Hhh-Hssgchhu’huh! Hssschew! Huh-Uhsssew! ISSSHEW!”

That last one caused his ear to pop and Crowley blinked in wonderment. “Whooo-eee! I needed that.” He sniffed. “Hey, I can breathe again.”

“That’s wonderful Crowley.”

A tingling sensation danced in his hand. Crowley opened his palm to see small sparks of blue lightning racing from fingertip to fingertip. He glanced at the TV but it shrugged apologetically. Perhaps that was too big a job to start with. He stared instead at the potted plant and the vase righted itself and fused seamlessly back together. The plant tried to stand to attention in militaristic desperation. Crowley smiled.

“I need your recipe for this soup.” He grinned slyly.

“It’s not a secret.” Aziraphale acknowledged. “Actually the frog tongues--“

“Wait. I don’t want to know after all. Just make it for me again next time alride?”

“Anytime. You’re feeling better.” The angel commented. It wasn’t a question.

“Yah, well, can’t get the telly yet.” He complained but turned back to the soup.

By the time Crowley finished his bowl and forced down the extra oddly colored medicinal syrups Aziraphale insisted he swallow, he indeed felt much better. He turned back to the screen and concentrated. He imagined the shape, the sleek lines, and the cool vibrant touch against his fingers. The fragments glowed brightly and the smash lines smoothed out. Then, with a pop, it reverted back to new.

“Well done!” Aziraphale clapped.

“Now if I can only get rid of this nagging tickle.” He rubbed his nose again, willing the sneeze to come forward. “I-hhhuh… Husschh! Hssgxchhue! Aah, that felt good.”

“Growing into the habit, huh?” the angel chuckled.

“Oh Go-- I mean-- don’t even think that Zira! Just because I said… uh’hisschh!”

“Bless. Well, I think you may just have to let that run its course.”

“I think you’re right.”

“Let’s celebrate. Shall we watch a movie? What tapes do you have?”

“DVDs, Aziraphale. This isn’t the 80’s anymore.”

“Oh well right then. What dee-vee-dees do you have?”

“Take your pick.”

“No, you choose.”

“Well in that case, how about…” Crowley paused dramatically to build the suspense. “The Sound of Music?”

Aziraphale winced.

“You’ll like it, trust me. It’s… hisshhh’uh!”

“Fine fine. Just pop it in.” Aziraphale shrugged. It was hard to say no to someone who couldn’t stop sneezing every minute. You felt a compulsive need to do whatever they said, if only just to stop them from sneezing. Of course it didn’t work but, by that time, the scenario repeated itself.

Crowley snapped his fingers. The lights dimmed as the screen flickered. The two friends, one angel and one demon, settled next to each other at peace in the other’s company. Soon the vibrant sounds of alive fields in music with full stereo filled the room and Julie Andrews frolicked across the screen in high definition. Aziraphale sat in rapture. Crowley allowed himself a drowsy grin as he sank into the soft cushions with the angel on one side and a box of tissues tucked safely on the other.

The end.

[LeapYearKisses]

Aw, that was awesome!

[AngelEyes]

OMG! That was so abso-fucking-lutely brilliant!!!! Seriously. I can't even.... You had the characters so so perfect! I'm seriously speechless. I can't even express how much I am in love with this! I will read this a million times. You have no idea how giddy you have made me!!! Squeeee!!!!!!

[NorthernLady]

*melted in a puddle of Northern Lady*

Thank you, I needed that fic

[phoenix]

This was amazing! Good Omens is hard to do right, but you completely did it justice. I loved the relentless sneezing, Aziraphale's compulsive blessings and the way Crowley eventually gives up and accepts them, and the idea of Crowley napping on the couch while Aziraphale is making himself at home in the kitchen. Aww. And the ending, of course, was adorable. I'm sitting here grinning now. :-)

[Dynein]

This is an awesome story. You've done a great job keeping both Aziraphale and Crowley in character, even adding little touches like Crowley hissing when he sneezes. Love, love love this. Keep up the good work!

[snuffles]

Aww thanks for the comments all!

@LeapYear: thanks!

@AngelEyes: Aww glad you liked it! I just love those two together! This was just meant to be pure fluff but there should be more Good Omens fics!

@NorthernLady: lol thanks too!

@phoenix: ahahahah yeah I didn't actually peg Aziraphale as a compulsive blesser, but it was just fun to write LOL! And of course for Crowley's first cold it absolutely needed to be relentless sneezing.

@Dynein: thanks! And yeah I thought hissing sneezes was a must LOL. But it's rather more difficult to write than it seems. I normally don't do sneeze focused fics and I'm really bad at spelling them, so it takes me a lot of time just to get one out (as odd as that may seem!)

[TheCakeIsAlive]

Absolutely brilliant. I love the interaction between the two and their contrasting personalities somehow working so well together. Also, Sound of Music? *sings along*

[MaiMai]

Omg, I don't know the fandom at all, but this is sooo awesome!!! It's so well written and adorable and just :wub:

[snuffles]

Absolutely brilliant. I love the interaction between the two and their contrasting personalities somehow working so well together. Also, Sound of Music? *sings along*

LOL yes Sound of Music, it's a reference to a comment made by Crowley in the book. Actually I wasn't sure how many references could be understood but i threw them in anyways heheheh. Like Crowley's poor house plants lol.

Omg, I don't know the fandom at all, but this is sooo awesome!!! It's so well written and adorable and just :wub:

aww thanks MaiMai! I've read that Crowley in SPN was a reference to Good Omens. Ill demons are just luv!