Sacramental Allergy (aka Not Another Good Omens Fic; Crowley, M)

[Zwee]

Ok help, I like Good Omens too! And as much as I hate saturating the boards with one fandom, there has been some amazing GO content lately! And I do love these two characters and I really wanted to try writing them.

Also I saw a post somewhere about Crowley being allergic to communion wine and I couldn’t stop thinking about it!! What else was I supposed to do but write 2000 words about it?

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The Bentley came to a screeching halt, startling a few pedestrians so badly that they nearly fell into a shop window. Crowley stepped onto the pavement, popping his collar against the November chill and clicking his fingers to cut the engine. Oblivious to the nasty looks of the pedestrians he’d scared, he sauntered off in the direction of the bookshop he knew so well, trying not to shiver.

Crowley detested the cold almost as much as he detested the rain (which the leaden clouds above currently threatened). He knocked on the bookshop door with force, trying to beat the downpour. The lights in the shop were off and the curtains drawn, but that had never stopped Crowley in the past, and it certainly wouldn’t stop him now.

“Open up, Angel! It’s me!”

No reply came from within. The first spattering of raindrops had begun to fall, and Crowley couldn’t hold back the shivers as a few cold drops made their way into his collar and down his neck.

“Aziraphale! Come on, these are expensive shoes!” He tried again, pounding louder, but to no avail. Fine, he thought to himself, giving another click of his fingers. The click of the lock sounded and the door swung open.

Crowley was met with the slightly damp smell of old books and dust. He frowned slightly at the lack of inviting warmth he was accustomed to, and stepped inside. “Aziraphale?” He called, making his way to the sitting room. “It’s bloody freezing in here! Feel like getting blitzed? Aziraphale?” When no reply came, he resigned himself to the fact that the angel was not in.

He pointed his finger at the fireplace until flames burst violently into being. His body gave a grateful shiver as the warmth permeated the space, but the damp cold still clung to him. It was no use, he needed something to warm him from the inside. He decided to raid Aziraphale’s alcohol stash while he waited for the angel to make an appearance.

The warmth of the fire had not yet reached the corner with the bar, so Crowley snagged a wine bottle at random and retreated to the sofa, shuddering. He manifested a glass into existence and let a generous amount of red splash into it, giving a silent toast to the concept of heat. After a few sips of the deep red liquid, he let himself relax into Aziraphale’s overstuffed sofa, propping his boots up on the coffee table in front of him with a satisfied sigh.

He pictured the way Aziraphale would purse his lips if he could see Crowley putting his shoes on the furniture and smiled fondly. Where the heaven was his friend? He took another gulp of wine, then set his glass down with a sudden clatter. His nose itched all of a sudden. He rather thought he needed to sneeze. Normally, Crowley quite liked the sensation of a good sneeze. He didn’t do it very often, so when an irritation was potent enough not to be imagined away, he let his human body do what it needed to, and enjoyed the few seconds of relief afterwards.

He took in a slow breath, letting the itch culminate as his eyes scrunched behind his dark glasses. “hH… Heiihhh… Hehh’TSChhuhh!” He lowered his cupped hands, giving an experimental sniff. To his immense frustration, the itch hadn’t gone completely. Instead, it seemed to lurk teasingly at the fringes of his consciousness, swelling and retreating with each careful breath.

He scrunched his nose in irritation. Perhaps another would do it. He let the itch creep back, breath uneven, and sneezed again into his cupped hands. “Ehh… Ehh’KSCHhahh! Hih-hih-?” He growled with frustration as his breath gave another stuttering hitch. The sneezes had done nothing to satisfy the itch. His enjoyment of the sensation had tempered and he just wanted to finish his wine in peace.

He gave another itchy sneeze and then began to sniffle. Satan, his nose tickled. And so did his throat, come to think of it. He coughed to clear it, then took a large gulp of wine, hoping whatever this irritation was would subside soon.

Unfortunately, the tickle only grew worse. He took in a great, shuddering breath and launched into a fit of desperately itchy sneezes that left him gasping. “Hahh’ATSCHHhuh! Hehh-! Hitsschhiih! Hiih’TSSHhhuh!” Blessing furiously in between sniffles, he pressed his nose against the back of his wrist to stave off more sneezes and scrabbled around for the tissue box he knew must exist somewhere in his vicinity. He finally found one and blew his nose dazedly, wondering what the everloving fuck was doing this to him and how best to make it pay for its crimes.

He gulped down the last of the wine from his glass and poured himself another, hoping the alcohol would dull the tickle the way it often dulled the cold.

Halfway through his second (large) glass, his nose was still tickling fiercely. “Hehihh-! Hh’ATSCHhuh! Hehh! Hehh’Tssschhew!” Unsure if he was woozy from the wine or the sneezing, Crowley extricated himself from the cushions with effort, trying to distance himself from the unknown irritant. He scrubbed ferociously at his nose, giving another growl as his breath caught violently in his throat, sending him into another desperate fit.

“Hiihh-ESSSHhhah! Hehh-! Hehh’KSHHhiiuuh! Hh’AATSCHhh!”

He was vaguely aware of the sound of the bell above the shop door jingling but could barely catch his breath as sneeze after itchy sneeze wrenched through him, bending him double.

“Oh! Oh dear, C-Crowley? Are you—?” Through the film of allergic tears, Crowley could make out the form of Aziraphale silhouetted in the doorway. He was frozen in the act of shaking rainwater from an umbrella, clad in Wellingtons and a raincoat shiny with water.

“Hiih’ESSShhahh! ‘Zira?” Crowley straightened dizzily, throwing a hand out to catch himself against an armchair as the room tilted sideways. “J-ihh? Jesus-hih-motherblessing ChrESSHhhew!” He sniffled, swaying unsteadily.

Aziraphale rushed forward to steady him, disregarding his abandoned umbrella and the sodden footprints his Wellingtons left in his wake. “My goodness Crowley! What on earth—?”

“Dunno,” Crowley gasped woozily, letting the angel guide him back to the sofa.

Aziraphale dabbed tears from Crowley’s cheeks with a handful of tissues, giving him a thorough once-over. “You sound dreadfully ill! What has gotten into you?”

“No idea.” Crowley croaked, cupping more tissues to his nose as yet another sneeze teased its way out of him. “Hh’AATSCHhhiih!” He was growing hoarse, his voice cracking painfully on the last sneeze.

Aziraphale stood and began to bustle about, hands fluttering, trying to find the source of Crowley’s misery as the latter grumpily pulled fistfuls of tissues from the box.

“Oh dear,” Aziraphale had frozen suddenly, his tone so dire that Crowley looked up in alarm.

“What?” He snapped, voice muffled.

“Wh-where did you get this wine?”

“From your bar of course!” Crowley groused, then sneezed again. “Heiihh’KSHHhuh! UGH, God bless it-ihh-ITSCHhhahh!”

“And you’ve had nearly half the bottle?” Aziraphale gulped, surveying Crowley’s glass and the half-empty bottle on the table beside him.

“Yess,” the demon hissed distractedly, pinching his nose as his eyebrows steepled desperately with the need to sneeze again. “S-so what?”

“Crowley,” the angel sighed. “This is sacramental wine, you poor dear. I was saving it for a special occasion, and I certainly wouldn’t have ever given you any. Look at the state it’s gotten you in,” He clicked his tongue sympathetically, cringing as Crowley gave another wrenching sneeze.

“Why,” the demon snarled when he had caught his breath, “why were you keeping sacramental wine on your bar with all the perfectly decent driihh-drink?!”

“It was a gift from a loyal patron, a priest over at St. John’s. They’re switching to white wine for Communion—apparently they were spending a fortune on laundering the altar cloths—and he thought I might know of a church that could use it…”

“And you kept it for yourself?” Crowley arched an eyebrow, mock astonishment evident in his tone even through the congestion. “Not very holy of you.”

“I w-wasn’t keeping it!” The angel’s cheeks had blossomed pink. “It slipped my mind, that’s all!”

“Well, your little mind slip could have discorporated me,” Crowley grumbled, reaching for another tissue.

“It couldn’t have!” Aziraphale looked scandalized. “There’s enough alcohol in the wine to balance out the sacrament! I would never have left anything dangerous enough to discorporate you lying around, Crowley! You must know that!” He shuddered at the very idea, horrified.

“Yeah, yeah. Alright.” Crowley patted the angel’s hand comfortingly, deciding to let it drop. Perhaps it was the wine going to his head, or the earnest look of dismay on the angel’s soft features, or the fact that the sneezing was making him woozy, but he felt a surge of affection for his friend. “I know you wouldn’t. You like me too much.”

“I don’t.” Aziraphale retorted, but he couldn’t suppress a smile of his own. “Bless you, by the way.”

“Ughhh, must you?” Crowley complained, then sneezed again.

“That’s it,” Aziraphale stood. “This altar wine is destined for the drain, I’m afraid. Can you sober up? Get it out of your system?”

“hH-HHTSCHhhih! Ehh’Tssschhew!” Crowley shook his head dazedly. “I’ve been trying… Feels off, somehow. Every time I try it m-makes me sn—ISSHHhhuh! Satan it itches!”

“Poor love,” Aziraphale frowned, deep in thought. “You need a palate cleanser, I believe. What would you say to a glass of that lovely Richebourg Grand Cru? And we can watch something with a lot of violence and swearing, that—oh, dear, bless you—that ought to help some. And—oh, yes!” The angel jumped up rather suddenly and bustled off to the kitchen. He reappeared a moment later with an ugly flannel soaked in cool water. He gently removed Crowley’s glasses and placed it over his streaming eyes.

A hiss of relief issued from the demon as he slumped back against the cushions.

“Better?”

“Better,” Crowley sniffled. Then, in an undertone, “thank you.”

 

Aziraphale returned from a trip the kitchen five minutes later to find Crowley reclining with his feet propped up on the coffee table in front of him, one hand resting lazily across his eyes to hold the flannel in place. Upon hearing the angel’s re-entry, Crowley lifted a corner of the cloth. He grinned when he saw the look on Aziraphale’s face. “Don’t look at me like that, angel. I’m relaxing.”

“At the expense of my furniture,” Aziraphale grumbled under his breath as he poured them each a glass of regular, sinful wine and switched on the tiny old telly.

Once they had settled on a movie with sufficient levels of evil, the angel joined Crowley on the sofa.

“So, which was it, then?” Crowley asked, amusement glimmering in his (slightly bloodshot) yellow eyes. “were you saving the wine for a church, or a special occasion?”

“A church!” Aziraphale insisted, cheeks flushing instantly.

“So… what’s in the mug?” Crowley quirked an eyebrow and Aziraphale blushed pinker still and mumbled something about not wanting perfectly good wine to go to waste.

Crowley didn’t push the matter. He was grateful for the angel’s attempts to help him feel better, and he did felt a bit guilty for drinking half a bottle of wine that Aziraphale had clearly been hoping to enjoy. Plus the insatiable need to sneeze had returned.

“hH-! HiiTSSCHhh!”

“Bless you, dear.” Aziraphale patted the demon’s arm fondly.

Crowley let him have that one too.

Edited July 15, 2019 by Zwee

[curlyq9393]

omfg please never apologize for good omens content, especially not content this brilliant!!!!!! you’ve captured their dynamic perfectly and you write Crowley so well. I love it. 

[TheCakeIsAlive]

I believe the saturation level of Good Omen fiction has not nearly been reached, even when compensating for my obviously biased opinion that there ought to be so much more out there because I am ridiculously obsessed with this series.  

And this particular addition is definitely, as Aziraphale would say, scrumptious. You have me wondering how sacramental wine would taste to an angel now. And poor Crowley. I mean, kind of serves him right though...

You write them well, thought you got the voices and mannerisms spot on. Thank you for sharing this with us!

[SneezyHolmes]

I'm not usually an allergies person but this was brilliant! I absolutely adored it!

[Nervous-Bean]

Oh my god i love this fic to pieces !! absolutely wonderful job!

[Masking]

Oh my goddddddd...the two of them are just so THEM. I love it!

[Elle]

So good! Omg love this premise and love how you wrote his allergy coming on. (Also I need so many more good omens snz fics omg)

[BookQ36]

Just because something has already been done, and done well, is no reason for other authors to play in the same sandbox, with the same toys and tropes. This fic is lovely!

[BookQ36]

gah, I miss-typed. "No reason for other authors to AVOID playing in the same sandbox" was what I meant to say. More Good Omens content is always welcome, especially when it's this well-written.

[MaiMai]

Zwee!!! I've loved your writing since the SPN days, and now you've written for Good Omens and I'm so excited?!

On 7/15/2019 at 7:09 AM, Zwee said:

wondering what the everloving fuck was doing this to him and how best to make it pay for its crimes.

This is such a great line! So Crowley!

On 7/15/2019 at 7:09 AM, Zwee said:

“This is sacramental wine, you poor dear.

Oh man, this is just so affectionate and sweet :')

On 7/15/2019 at 7:09 AM, Zwee said:

“And you kept it for yourself?” Crowley arched an eyebrow, mock astonishment evident in his tone even through the congestion. “Not very holy of you.”

Aaaand he's still got the snark, I love it!

This fic is so brilliant!! Thank you for posting it!

[Zwee]

On 7/15/2019 at 3:46 AM, curlyq9393 said:

omfg please never apologize for good omens content, especially not content this brilliant!!!!!! you’ve captured their dynamic perfectly and you write Crowley so well. I love it. 

Thank you!! So flattered you liked it! Your GO content is fabulous too--was definitely part of the incentive for me to write this fic!

On 7/15/2019 at 5:09 AM, TheCakeIsAlive said:

I believe the saturation level of Good Omen fiction has not nearly been reached, even when compensating for my obviously biased opinion that there ought to be so much more out there because I am ridiculously obsessed with this series.  

And this particular addition is definitely, as Aziraphale would say, scrumptious. You have me wondering how sacramental wine would taste to an angel now. And poor Crowley. I mean, kind of serves him right though...

You write them well, thought you got the voices and mannerisms spot on. Thank you for sharing this with us!

I was wondering about that too!! I imagine it would taste better to an angel than regular wine… Maybe it wouldn’t cause a hangover? Lol 

Crowley definitely got his comeuppance in the end! Thank you so much for your lovely compliments! I’m so glad you enjoyed it! (And true about the saturation level)

On 7/15/2019 at 6:05 AM, SneezyHolmes said:

I'm not usually an allergies person but this was brilliant! I absolutely adored it!

Tbh I’m not usually an allergies person either, but this idea would not leave me alone lol! So happy you liked it so much!

On 7/15/2019 at 8:45 AM, Nervous-Bean said:

Oh my god i love this fic to pieces !! absolutely wonderful job!

Thank you for this comment and THANK YOU for immortalizing a moment of it in your art! That’s honestly something I never knew I wanted until you did it and I am so flattered! Everyone should check it out!!

On 7/15/2019 at 3:12 PM, Masking said:

Oh my goddddddd...the two of them are just so THEM. I love it!

Thank you!! I’m so glad you think it was in character!

On 7/15/2019 at 9:24 PM, Elle (chancy) said:

So good! Omg love this premise and love how you wrote his allergy coming on. (Also I need so many more good omens snz fics omg)

Haha I’m with you, there is definitely room for more GO fics. Thanks so much! It’s all about a slow burn until I get impatient and make him very allergic lol

On 7/16/2019 at 1:18 PM, BookQ36 said:

Just because something has already been done, and done well, is no reason for other authors to play in the same sandbox, with the same toys and tropes. This fic is lovely!

 

On 7/16/2019 at 1:22 PM, BookQ36 said:

gah, I miss-typed. "No reason for other authors to AVOID playing in the same sandbox" was what I meant to say. More Good Omens content is always welcome, especially when it's this well-written.

Thank you!! Y’all have convinced me! I might even post another GO fic if the muse strikes! I had a lot of fun writing this, and I’m really happy you liked it.

Quote

On 7/16/2019 at 2:17 PM, MaiMai said:

Zwee!!! I've loved your writing since the SPN days, and now you've written for Good Omens and I'm so excited?!

On 7/14/2019 at 11:09 PM, Zwee said:

wondering what the everloving fuck was doing this to him and how best to make it pay for its crimes.

This is such a great line! So Crowley!

On 7/14/2019 at 11:09 PM, Zwee said:

“This is sacramental wine, you poor dear.

Oh man, this is just so affectionate and sweet :')

On 7/14/2019 at 11:09 PM, Zwee said:

“And you kept it for yourself?” Crowley arched an eyebrow, mock astonishment evident in his tone even through the congestion. “Not very holy of you.”

Aaaand he's still got the snark, I love it!

This fic is so brilliant!! Thank you for posting it!

Aaahh, hello again MaiMai!! I’m so glad you liked it! I tried really hard to stay true to their characters, and they are really fun to write for! We truly go back to the SPN days and it’s great to hear from you again!  And I'm so happy you enjoyed!

 

[queenie]

Look, I have not been a Good Omens fan since 2004 for perfectly good writers to apologize for temporarily producing content to please me

[AngelEyes]

This is brilliant. Love the premise! Poor miserable Crowley, although he does kind of deserve it. I love how flustered and upset Az is. So in character. 

On 7/15/2019 at 1:09 AM, Zwee said:

“And you kept it for yourself?” Crowley arched an eyebrow, mock astonishment evident in his tone even through the congestion. “Not very holy of you.”

LOL

 

On 7/15/2019 at 1:09 AM, Zwee said:

“It couldn’t have!” Aziraphale looked scandalized. “There’s enough alcohol in the wine to balance out the sacrament! I would never have left anything dangerous enough to discorporate you lying around, Crowley! You must know that!” He shuddered at the very idea, horrified.

“Yeah, yeah. Alright.” Crowley patted the angel’s hand comfortingly, deciding to let it drop. Perhaps it was the wine going to his head, or the earnest look of dismay on the angel’s soft features, or the fact that the sneezing was making him woozy, but he felt a surge of affection for his friend. “I know you wouldn’t. You like me too much.”

This is them perfectly!

[Shay]

I loved this. Great descriptions of the allergic torture, and Aziraphale is just so adorable when he's attending to Crowley.