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Title: In a Book Shop in SoHo
Author: Evandar
Fandom: Good Omens
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Gen
Pairing: Crowley/Aziraphale preslash
Disclaimer: I do not own Good Omens and I am making no profit from this story.
Summary: Human AU. In which Crowley is a realtor and Aziraphale really does sell books (honest), and they are brought together by the rain.
AN: Written for the prompt 'AU: Alternate Professions' for my Trope Bingo table.
Life was not going well for Anthony J Crowley, realtor. Firstly, his car had been taken in for repairs. Expensive repairs – the hazard, he was told, of driving an antique around central London. Secondly, this meant he now had to commute to the office. Thirdly, it was raining.
Crowley, as he preferred to be called, didn’t own an umbrella.
As such, he was using a newspaper as a shield against the worst of the weather when, abruptly, the weather grew worse. The sky opening and rain coming down in suit-ruining, newspaper-destroying sheets. It was Biblical.
“Bugger,” hissed Crowley, who’d never quite got rid of a childhood lisp and sounded like he hissed everything, as he was quite suddenly minus a shield and equally suddenly covered in paper maché. He squinted through the rain – even going so far as to remove his ever-present sunglasses for a better look – trying to find shelter.
He was unfamiliar with the area. A dusty, forgotten area of SoHo – but one that seemed to have a book shop, nonetheless. He darted across the road, entered the shop, and shut the door behind him a little harder than strictly necessary. A blond man looked up from behind the counter, lowering a book and staring as Crowley stared back at him.
“Er,” Crowley said, looking into the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. The reproachful look being aimed at him was rather like having offended an armchair. The man looked like a Hallmark angel had discovered what middle age was and decided to go for broke – complete with a knitted sweater vest and tweed jacket (currently hung over the back of the man’s chair). “Sssssssorry. No umbrella.”
“So I see,” the owner said. The reproach faded and he offered Crowley a smile instead, one that invited Crowley to just bask in the warmth of it. “Would you like some tea?”
The book shop, oddly, had a fireplace. Crowley migrated towards it while the proprietor busied himself in the back room, and sat himself down in one of the overstuffed chairs next to it. The clock on his phone let him know he was late, but the chair was cosy and the fire was hot, and Crowley didn’t particularly care. There was no point in being your own boss if you couldn’t choose your own hours, as it were.
He occupied himself with picking sodden fragments of The Times out of his hair and studying the shelves that loomed around him. Old, rare religious texts stood next to books on queer theory; erotica novels haunted the top shelves while further down, limited edition comic books filled entire rows. He found himself both impressed and amused, and when the shop owner returned, he offered him a completely genuine smile.
“Thanksss,” he said, and took the offered cup. “Sssorry for dripping on the furniture.”
“Oh, it’s alright,” the owner replied. “As long as you missed the books.”
He accompanied the later with a steely look that reminded Crowley of a school librarian. Make that impressed, amused, and mildly aroused.
“Completely,” he said. “Interesssting sssssselection, though.” And he held out his hand. “Name’sss Anthony Crowley.”
The shop owner took his hand and shook it. His hands were soft and well-manicured; pudgier than Crowley’s own, but with a hidden strength to them. “Zirah Fell,” he said.
Author: Evandar
Fandom: Good Omens
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Gen
Pairing: Crowley/Aziraphale preslash
Disclaimer: I do not own Good Omens and I am making no profit from this story.
Summary: Human AU. In which Crowley is a realtor and Aziraphale really does sell books (honest), and they are brought together by the rain.
AN: Written for the prompt 'AU: Alternate Professions' for my Trope Bingo table.
Life was not going well for Anthony J Crowley, realtor. Firstly, his car had been taken in for repairs. Expensive repairs – the hazard, he was told, of driving an antique around central London. Secondly, this meant he now had to commute to the office. Thirdly, it was raining.
Crowley, as he preferred to be called, didn’t own an umbrella.
As such, he was using a newspaper as a shield against the worst of the weather when, abruptly, the weather grew worse. The sky opening and rain coming down in suit-ruining, newspaper-destroying sheets. It was Biblical.
“Bugger,” hissed Crowley, who’d never quite got rid of a childhood lisp and sounded like he hissed everything, as he was quite suddenly minus a shield and equally suddenly covered in paper maché. He squinted through the rain – even going so far as to remove his ever-present sunglasses for a better look – trying to find shelter.
He was unfamiliar with the area. A dusty, forgotten area of SoHo – but one that seemed to have a book shop, nonetheless. He darted across the road, entered the shop, and shut the door behind him a little harder than strictly necessary. A blond man looked up from behind the counter, lowering a book and staring as Crowley stared back at him.
“Er,” Crowley said, looking into the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. The reproachful look being aimed at him was rather like having offended an armchair. The man looked like a Hallmark angel had discovered what middle age was and decided to go for broke – complete with a knitted sweater vest and tweed jacket (currently hung over the back of the man’s chair). “Sssssssorry. No umbrella.”
“So I see,” the owner said. The reproach faded and he offered Crowley a smile instead, one that invited Crowley to just bask in the warmth of it. “Would you like some tea?”
The book shop, oddly, had a fireplace. Crowley migrated towards it while the proprietor busied himself in the back room, and sat himself down in one of the overstuffed chairs next to it. The clock on his phone let him know he was late, but the chair was cosy and the fire was hot, and Crowley didn’t particularly care. There was no point in being your own boss if you couldn’t choose your own hours, as it were.
He occupied himself with picking sodden fragments of The Times out of his hair and studying the shelves that loomed around him. Old, rare religious texts stood next to books on queer theory; erotica novels haunted the top shelves while further down, limited edition comic books filled entire rows. He found himself both impressed and amused, and when the shop owner returned, he offered him a completely genuine smile.
“Thanksss,” he said, and took the offered cup. “Sssorry for dripping on the furniture.”
“Oh, it’s alright,” the owner replied. “As long as you missed the books.”
He accompanied the later with a steely look that reminded Crowley of a school librarian. Make that impressed, amused, and mildly aroused.
“Completely,” he said. “Interesssting sssssselection, though.” And he held out his hand. “Name’sss Anthony Crowley.”
The shop owner took his hand and shook it. His hands were soft and well-manicured; pudgier than Crowley’s own, but with a hidden strength to them. “Zirah Fell,” he said.
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no subject
Date: 2014-06-01 11:08 pm (UTC)From:Seriously, it's far too late here, and I should sleep, but I couldn't resist. Something makes them just... fluff. Their relationship itself is inherently positive. It's rare to read something like that.
no subject
Date: 2014-06-01 11:18 pm (UTC)From:They are ridiculously fluffy. And good for each other. And they have a remarkably healthy relationship, all things considered, and it#s just irresistible. I'm glad you stopped by for a warm belly rub XD
no subject
Date: 2014-06-06 04:41 pm (UTC)From:Though I'm into the TF fandom and I love if when some authors turn all TFs female. After all there is much evidence (whole evidence) that they don't have gender.
Exactly, I love that they have a healthy relationship that prevails without getting mushy or insane or something. It just is and that's enough.
no subject
Date: 2014-06-06 10:12 pm (UTC)From:Don't worry if none of the femslash catches your eye (apart from that one). It's something that I'm only just really getting into and I'm trying out the pairings. Parvati/Lavender and War/Pepper are the ones that I've found that I like, though, along with MCU Pepper/Darcy. Just read whatever you fancy.
I like genderswap fic. I don't like suddenly a girl!genderswap, but always a girl! can be really good if it's well done. And I suppose in TF, it's easy to say that because there's no whole evidence pointing one way or another, they can be either so what does it matter? I don't know much about that fandom tbh, though.
They're very understated. They love each other, but there's no flashiness to it or desperation or clinginess. It's a very quiet love, but no less real for it.
no subject
Date: 2014-06-11 06:52 pm (UTC)From:I will, thanks. I have a strange relationship with femslash. I love it sometimes, sometimes not... *shrug* I like your femslash by the way, too.
It can be good, yes. But it rarely is. For example in HP I can't see how it would make much of a difference. In Supernatural on the other hand... I like Dean!girl fanfics. Because there I can see that it really makes a difference.
TF fandom is a bit crazy, much like HP. Only that we have several canons so most authors just pick what they love about a canon most - and combine then. It's very fluid.
Nothing to add here anymore. ;)