Tradition by Alchoc
Summary: A time-honored rite of passage.
Categories: Drabbles Characters: Aziraphale
Chapters: 1 Completed: Yes
Word count: 246 Read: 241
Published: 18 Oct 2005 Updated:18 Oct 2005
"Crowley?" No response. "Crowley, what are you doing?"
Silence, and then: "Nothing." Scritch Scritch.
The angel raised his head over the demon's shoulder, willing the alcohol out of his system. "Do not tell me, dear boy, that you are doing what I think you are doing."
Crowley quickly put away the knife. "What?" he said accusingly.
"Oh my goodness, surely you did not just do what I think you did." Aziraphale looked at the headboard- a deep groove was etched into dark red mahogany. "What are you going to do next. Run to Hastur and Ligor and tell them that you...got fortunate??"
Crowley rolled his eyes, but his cheeks turned crimson. "The term is 'got lucky.' And no, I think Hastur and Ligor are busy enough with their own fun and games."
The angel's nose crinkled up as though he were smelling all of the Earth's garbage at once, but his expression changed quickly. He quirked an eyebrow at the demon. "Crowley, why is there only one mark?"
Crowley's complexion was positively radioactive now and he looked away.
"Oh, I'm sorry, old chap, I didn't mean to ask such an impolite question." They sat in a bit of an awkward silence for a while.
"Wanna make it two?" Crowley looked at the angel from the corner of his eye.
Aziraphale thought about it for a moment. "Alright." And he tumbled the demon back onto the bed.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.
This story archived at http://library.good-omens.net/viewstory.php?sid=172