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Entry tags:
GO: Babysitting
Fandom: Good Omens
Pairing: Crowley/Aziraphale, Adam/Pepper
Warnings: None
Rating: PG
Summary: Sometimes, Aziraphale's too nice for his -- and, more importantly, Crowley's -- own good. For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
fic_on_demand.
"Babysitting? You signed me -- "
"Us, dear boy, of course I wouldn't leave you to it," Aziraphale said, serenely. "Who knows what you would do?"
Crowley took a deep breath. He was steadfastly ignoring the baby, and indeed, the parents of said baby -- who happened to be the Antichrist and his childhood friend, the one who'd defeated War. That didn't trouble Crowley. Much. He spoke very, very slowly, as if to a small child. "Demons. Don't. Do. Babysitting."
"They don't do angels, either, generally," Aziraphale said, dryly, with a surprising steadiness. He'd really come far if he could come up with responses like that, alluding to their sex life without so much as an ahem or a blush. Crowley noted that on his list of things to remember -- '#1083611, try (again) to make Aziraphale talk dirty' -- and then tried to pull his mind back from considering that seemingly less remote possibility again.
"Yes, well," he said, and then stopped. He'd quite forgotten whatever he'd intended to say in response to that.
Adam cleared his throat. "Of course, if you don't want to do us a favour, I can stop doing you favours."
"Favours?" Aziraphale asked.
Crowley cleared his throat. "Adam, ah, cleared up a few problems for me with Down Below. You know."
"I don't," Aziraphale said. He paused. "And I don't think I want to."
"So that's settled, then," Adam said, with an easy grin, the grin of one who knows he'll always get what he wants. There's no hint of a threat in his voice: there's no need. They know exactly what he can do. "Take care of him, okay? We'll be back tomorrow."
"Tomorrow? Azira -- "
"And if you don't take good care of him, demon or not, you'll be sorry," Pepper said, very clearly. Then she turned, her job apparently done, and dragged Adam out of the house.
"You know, my dear," Aziraphale murmured, after the door had closed with a firm bang, "I'm not sure which one I'm most afraid of."
Pairing: Crowley/Aziraphale, Adam/Pepper
Warnings: None
Rating: PG
Summary: Sometimes, Aziraphale's too nice for his -- and, more importantly, Crowley's -- own good. For
fic_on_demand."Babysitting? You signed me -- "
"Us, dear boy, of course I wouldn't leave you to it," Aziraphale said, serenely. "Who knows what you would do?"
Crowley took a deep breath. He was steadfastly ignoring the baby, and indeed, the parents of said baby -- who happened to be the Antichrist and his childhood friend, the one who'd defeated War. That didn't trouble Crowley. Much. He spoke very, very slowly, as if to a small child. "Demons. Don't. Do. Babysitting."
"They don't do angels, either, generally," Aziraphale said, dryly, with a surprising steadiness. He'd really come far if he could come up with responses like that, alluding to their sex life without so much as an ahem or a blush. Crowley noted that on his list of things to remember -- '#1083611, try (again) to make Aziraphale talk dirty' -- and then tried to pull his mind back from considering that seemingly less remote possibility again.
"Yes, well," he said, and then stopped. He'd quite forgotten whatever he'd intended to say in response to that.
Adam cleared his throat. "Of course, if you don't want to do us a favour, I can stop doing you favours."
"Favours?" Aziraphale asked.
Crowley cleared his throat. "Adam, ah, cleared up a few problems for me with Down Below. You know."
"I don't," Aziraphale said. He paused. "And I don't think I want to."
"So that's settled, then," Adam said, with an easy grin, the grin of one who knows he'll always get what he wants. There's no hint of a threat in his voice: there's no need. They know exactly what he can do. "Take care of him, okay? We'll be back tomorrow."
"Tomorrow? Azira -- "
"And if you don't take good care of him, demon or not, you'll be sorry," Pepper said, very clearly. Then she turned, her job apparently done, and dragged Adam out of the house.
"You know, my dear," Aziraphale murmured, after the door had closed with a firm bang, "I'm not sure which one I'm most afraid of."