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crack_van2010-08-17 07:32 am
laceymcbain.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2010-08-17 07:32 am
Entry tags:
The Mechanics of a Door by Moshesque (PG-13)
Fandom: GOOD OMENS
Pairing: Aziraphale/Crowley
Length: ~ 7000 words
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
moshesque
Author Website: Remnants
Why this must be read: Okay, so it's not at all close to Christmas, but I'm going to rec a Christmas story anyway. Why? Because every year the GO fandom has a Christmas exchange that produces some absolutely wonderful fic and because it's a small fandom, those stories don't always get the attention they deserve.
This story has so many delightful turns of phrase, perfectly chosen details, and laugh-out-loud moments that I can't help but love it: from Aziraphale's retina-destroying festive light display to Crowley's parking lot face-off against a determined grey-haired driver. When the mulled wine is delightfully bubbling and the carollers are warming up outside, it's easy to believe in the subtle shift from friends to something more. Merry Christmas!
Crowley hitched an eyebrow up over the rim of his shades. “What's happening tomorrow?”
“Oh, this and that.” Aziraphale waved a hand at him, the lights tinkling delicately. “I thought we could go out.”
“You're hedging,” Crowley said. “You know I don't like it when you hedge. It means trouble's afoot, and I don't mean the Hellish kind of trouble that might benefit me. I mean the angelic kind of trouble, which usually benefits nobody, especially not demons.”
“I'm not hedging, and there's nothing wicked afoot!” The expression was scandalized, then quickly morphed to all-innocence. Which, given what Aziraphale was, wasn't difficult to pull off. Though Crowley knew innocence couldn't always be trusted. It may be ingrained, but it was certainly bendy enough to have loopholes. Aziraphale's shoulders dropped and he sighed. “I simply need you to take me shopping.”
Crowley stared at him. “Come again?”
“Shopping,” Aziraphale repeated, setting down the fairy lights and groaning softly as he rose to his feet. He really should think about oiling those old hinges at some point, though Crowley refrained from commenting on it, since Aziraphale seemed to enjoy the physical remunerations of having a body that'd seen more cream cakes than hot dinners. “Cup of tea?”
“Wait, wait.” Crowley held up a hand, and a wayward bauble, possibly afflicted with seasonal affective disorder, chose that as a good time to commit suicide by launching itself off a nearby shelf. It rolled across the floorboards to land against the edge of Crowley's snakeskin boot; he toed it, not bothering to mask the agitation that was creeping through his bones. “You want to go shopping?”
“Ah, thank you for offering!” The angel beamed. “Yes, I would.”
Read the story: The Mechanics of a Door
Don't forget to feedback the author - it doesn't matter how old or new the story is. Authors love to hear from you!
Pairing: Aziraphale/Crowley
Length: ~ 7000 words
Author on LJ:
moshesqueAuthor Website: Remnants
Why this must be read: Okay, so it's not at all close to Christmas, but I'm going to rec a Christmas story anyway. Why? Because every year the GO fandom has a Christmas exchange that produces some absolutely wonderful fic and because it's a small fandom, those stories don't always get the attention they deserve.
This story has so many delightful turns of phrase, perfectly chosen details, and laugh-out-loud moments that I can't help but love it: from Aziraphale's retina-destroying festive light display to Crowley's parking lot face-off against a determined grey-haired driver. When the mulled wine is delightfully bubbling and the carollers are warming up outside, it's easy to believe in the subtle shift from friends to something more. Merry Christmas!
Crowley hitched an eyebrow up over the rim of his shades. “What's happening tomorrow?”
“Oh, this and that.” Aziraphale waved a hand at him, the lights tinkling delicately. “I thought we could go out.”
“You're hedging,” Crowley said. “You know I don't like it when you hedge. It means trouble's afoot, and I don't mean the Hellish kind of trouble that might benefit me. I mean the angelic kind of trouble, which usually benefits nobody, especially not demons.”
“I'm not hedging, and there's nothing wicked afoot!” The expression was scandalized, then quickly morphed to all-innocence. Which, given what Aziraphale was, wasn't difficult to pull off. Though Crowley knew innocence couldn't always be trusted. It may be ingrained, but it was certainly bendy enough to have loopholes. Aziraphale's shoulders dropped and he sighed. “I simply need you to take me shopping.”
Crowley stared at him. “Come again?”
“Shopping,” Aziraphale repeated, setting down the fairy lights and groaning softly as he rose to his feet. He really should think about oiling those old hinges at some point, though Crowley refrained from commenting on it, since Aziraphale seemed to enjoy the physical remunerations of having a body that'd seen more cream cakes than hot dinners. “Cup of tea?”
“Wait, wait.” Crowley held up a hand, and a wayward bauble, possibly afflicted with seasonal affective disorder, chose that as a good time to commit suicide by launching itself off a nearby shelf. It rolled across the floorboards to land against the edge of Crowley's snakeskin boot; he toed it, not bothering to mask the agitation that was creeping through his bones. “You want to go shopping?”
“Ah, thank you for offering!” The angel beamed. “Yes, I would.”
Read the story: The Mechanics of a Door
Don't forget to feedback the author - it doesn't matter how old or new the story is. Authors love to hear from you!
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