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just-a-girl-who-wrytes · 9 months

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Part 8 ☺️

Several months went by and the team celebrated Street and Chris’ engagement, as well as Luca finding out he was going to be a dad. They had a celebratory dinner over the weekend, one at which Nikki had drank a little more than she cared to admit. Deacon took her home that night, helped her into one of his t-shirts and a pair of his underwear before helping his girlfriend into bed and climbing in with her. The next morning, Nikki woke up hungover as hell. Everything hurt - her head, her stomach, her joints. She groaned. David walked in and chuckled.

“How do you hang with this old man,” he waved his hands from shoulders to waist with a bottle of gatorade in one hand and Tylenol in the other. “But you can’t hang with some bitch booze?”

Nikki buried her face in the pillow. “Because it’s bitch booze. You never can tell how much is too much until it’s too late.”

Nikki attempted to sit up, but was unsuccessful without the muscular torso of her lover’s body to help steady her. “I have to pee.” She mumbled.

Deacon laughed again, “All of the things you deal with and handle like the bad ass woman you are on a regular basis and some liquor is what takes you out.”

“Nice save, Kay.” Nikki mumbled, not bothering to look up at him as he guided her to the bathroom. David helped Nikki to the toilet and steadied her as she pulled his underwear off of her waist and sat down. He stepped away and she heard a cabinet open and close but paid it no mind.

“Here, baby, you need this.”

Nikki looked up to see David handing her a maxi pad and then looked down to see blood stained boxers.

“Wha-? Fuck meee.”

“When you won’t vomit all over me,” Deacon chuckled.

“No, baby. I haven’t had a period in yearssss why the hell am I having one now?!”

“Honey, I have no idea, but I can make it better with snuggles and a lazy day.” He winked at her.

Nikki groaned and took a clean pair of her underwear from David. Once she was cleaned up and medicated, she joined Deacon on the couch for a lazy day. Despite taking tylenol and motrin and drinking gatorade, she couldn’t help shake the nausea that she had. She napped on and off in Deacon’s arms but felt substantially worse every time she moved and the cramping in her stomach was the worst she could remember having. By the time bedtime rolled around, she didn’t feel any better and again leaned on David to make it back to the bed.

Nikki was bed bound for the following few days and even had to call out of work. She was cursing her uterus for making her feel so bad. This was punishment for all of the time she hadn’t had a period.

Deacon was at work just over a week later, talking to Hondo about his girlfriend and her symptoms.

“You think she’s pregnant?”

Deacon paused. “Of course that hadn’t crossed my mind. Man, she has been feeling bad and cramping and bleeding. We both have just thought she either had the flu or her period was whooping her ass.”

Hondo smirked, “Ya know pregnancy can mimic periods sometimes. It happened to my sister. It’s worth a thought, brother.”

After work, Deacon stopped to pick up chinese for supper. some dramamine to help with Nikki’s nausea, as well as a box of pregnancy tests. When he arrived home, he found her asleep on the couch. He kissed her forehead and made a pitcher of sweet tea for whenever she was ready to eat. After putting the tea in the fridge, he stopped and leaned on the counter, staring at her as she slept.

What if she really is pregnant… he thought. He thought about Nikki being the one to carry his baby and he started to get turned on. She would make such a wonderful mother. And it was all Deacon could do to stop himself from jumping her right then and there as he dreamed about how pregnancy would change her body - her hips, her boobs - how all of it would be because of him. It would be his little life she carried that they made together.

He originally planned on just letting her sleep and giving them to her when she woke up, but as he thought about their future and the woman he loved carrying the baby he put in her, he couldn’t stop himself. He walked over and sat down on the edge of the couch next to her and woke her up.

The color was still gone from her face and she still looked like she didn’t feel good.

“Baby, I brought supper home. I’ve also got some nausea meds for you and something else I need you to take….”

“Something else?” Nikki gave him a puzzled look as he brushed her hair away from her face.

“I was talking to Hondo at work about how you had been sick and your period was weird,” Nikki chuckled. There was no conversation or detail too personal for 20-David to share. She had never actually asked, but she was positive Hondo at the very least had heard about the first time they had sex together.

“He said taking one of these might be a good idea.” Deacon handed her the box of pregnancy tests.

Nikki took the box from him.

“If you’re not pregnant, we can get you into the doc to see why you’re still sick.”

“And if I am?”

Nikki watched as a smile spread across Deacon’s face, “Even better.”

Deacon stood up and helped Nikki off the couch and followed her to the bathroom.

He leaned against the counter with his arms folded across his belly, watching as Nikki peed on the stick.

“Who would have thought a man would sit and watch me pee and still love me…”

Deacon laughed, “What is it you used to tell me when I was helpless and getting bathed like a baby?”

“We’re all human and it’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” the couple said in unison.

Nikki stood up, washed her hands and stepped in front of Deacon. She wrapped her arms around his torso and laid her head on his chest. She relaxed in his embrace as he wrapped his arms around her.

The couple stood there in silence.

“A penny for your thoughts?” Nikki asked, never removing her head from his chest.

“It would be so amazing to know that the woman I love is pregnant with the baby I put in her.” Deacon groaned sensually, “To be able to watch you carry our baby, watch your belly grow, feel our baby move…”

Nikki felt herself falling even more in love with Deacon and she wasn’t sure how that was even possible.

“You’ve asked me all of these questions,” Deacon said as he pulled her off of him and cradled her neck with a hand on either side under her jaw, “But how will you feel if it’s positive?”

Deacon could see Nikki searching for words.

“I hadn’t thought about it, David. I mean if so, this is a complete 180 from when I was pregnant with ‘Kota. Hell, you are a complete 180 from my ex-husband. But you don’t seem scared.”

“Why would I be?”

“Well…” Nikki had a hard time figuring out how to piece words together. She never thought about it. If he loved her like he said he did - and she had no doubt about his love for her, there really wasn’t a reason to be scared. She breathed out a laugh, “I don’t know, Deac, I guess just some unresolved subconscious fear I have - the man I’m pregnant by not being supportive… but rationally, I know I have zero reason to be scared now.”

By now, Deacon had reached over and grabbed the test off of the counter and read it.

He spoke as he looked up at Nikki from the test, “I’m glad we’re on the same page… Mama.” Deacon smiled, his face full of nothing but love.

“What?” Nikki said breathlessly as she took the test from him.

Pregnant

She suddenly sobbed, falling into Deacon’s embrace, “Oh, David!”

Deacon wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her neck.

“We’re having a baby, sweetheart!” He said.

Nikki could do nothing except cry in David’s arms. She was exudingly happy, but her love life had been so nonexistent before David that she hadn’t given any thought to having children again - ever…. Much less having children with someone who loved her and took care of her. She could do nothing but cry for the sweet baby she lost and cry for the new baby she now had.

“I know this baby is handpicked for you - for us by Dakota.” Deacon said to her.

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yamisnuffles · 5 years

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Your Fire and Your Flood, Pt 2

Chapter 2 is here at last.

Read on Ao3

- - - - -

In the beginning there was neither light nor was there dark. There was nothing. There was everything. There was Her and She was both. She was all the light and dark to come, the stars, moons, trees, and clouds. Everything and nothing. That was how Crawly felt. There was no light around him anymore, barely any in him, nor was there dark. Just nothing. And everything.

Consciousness came in fits and starts. First in the feel of droplets on his scales. It must have been rain because that was all he’d felt for weeks. It had started to feel like that was all he’d ever known. But if it was, it had slowed remarkably, no longer a downpour but the occasional drip... drip... drip. He would have thought it curious- each drop too warm, too heavy with something he felt more in his soul than his flesh- but he wasn’t in a place to be curious about anything. He was adrift in the dark and that was all he knew again before long.

The next thing he was aware of was heat. He’d been warm from the moment of his creation. Her love burned at the foundation of every angel. It should have been enough to carry him through anything, had sustained him through the coldest nights and even in the void of space. Rain, no matter the amount, should have been nothing. He hadn’t realized just how cold he’d gotten until heat returned to his body. It came from somewhere outside him, soft and peculiarly inviting. His body was suffused with it until the spark inside him was stoked to new life. He wasn’t sure how long he continued in that nebulous existence. He was only ever aware of the return of cold for the warmth that always followed.

Finally there was song. Song. That was something that hit him at his very core. Seraphim were made to sing for Her. Crawly had sung often, especially as he spun out constellations. Each heavenly body was another note in an infinite song. He hadn’t sung since then, hadn’t heard other angels sing for even longer. Human song had its own kind of beauty- raw and honest and vital. That it was different from angel song did not make it worse but it was different. There was no mistaking what he heard now was an angel singing. That sound was like a hook to the center of his being that yanked him all the way back to consciousness at last.

At first he wasn’t sure if he’d properly woken up. He couldn’t make sense of what he saw. He thought he was sitting amongst the clouds, but that couldn’t be. He slithered and stretched underused muscles as his mind lifted from the heavy fog of a very long sleep. The movement as much as his gradual awakening told him that he was actually swathed in a white cloak. He wriggled toward the light through folds of soft fabric.

He was in a small cabin on a ship large enough that it was barely troubled by waves. Not far away, framed against a miraculously sun filled window not far away, was Aziraphale. That explained the cloak. He should have known instantly from the smell- which he gathered now on his flickering tongue- but the ongoing lilt of angelic song had pushed all else from his mind. It was everything in a way that made his prior nothingness feel like a distant memory. It filled him until he felt he might burst.

Not for the first time, he wished for another corporation. This one wasn't made to house so much emotion. His heart swelled. He wanted to smile. He wanted to cry. He couldn't do either, so instead he used a voice laden and hushed with feeling to speak the only truth that mattered to him.

"Aziraphale." And that, too, was everything.

If only it hadn't meant an end to the song. Aziraphale silenced immediately and spun on his heel. His mouth hung in a wobbling, wordless circle. Shock, sorrow, joy, and more all washed quickly across expressive features. Crawly had forgotten just how blue those eyes could be, especially swimming in unshed tears.

"Oh,” Aziraphale said, finding his voice at last. “Oh, Crawly, you're-"

Aziraphale rushed forward and bent smoothly to draw the whole unwieldy mass of Crawly’s serpentine form into his arms. The long body of a snake wasn't meant for hugging, so Crawly met him halfway by winding around Aziraphale's torso. It meant Aziraphale was left hugging himself as much as anything but it was enough.

Tears fell from Aziraphale's eyes and suddenly Crawly understood what he'd felt before, the rain that wasn't rain. "Hey, I'm alright," he said, not wanting to be the source of Aziraphale's pain. "I'm okay."

"You silly- You foolish-" Aziraphale blustered in a voice that might have been successfully cross if it hadn’t come from between gasping, shaky breaths. "You- you impossible serpent. I thought you were gone. You nearly were."

Crawly nuzzled into the downy hair at the base of Aziraphale's neck. He couldn't bear to see the other angel cry, especially when he was the cause. "Sssssorry."

"You should be." Aziraphale hiccupped over another sob and quieted as he tried to even out his breathing. "I don’t know if the water really would have killed you but that, that… absurdity might have. Whatever were you thinking?"

"Wasn't, really. Just sort of… did it.”

Aziraphale tilted his head to aim a withering look at the snake on his shoulders. “You just decided syphoning off your own ethereal energy was the best thing to do?”

“Yes?” Crawly buried his head at the juncture of Aziraphale’s neck. “I was tired, okay? You don’t know how long I spent trying to convince someone, anyone, to listen to me. But all any of them ever see is the Sssserpent of Eden.” He hated that phrase, hated what it represented and that he could never escape it. “A thousssand yearssss like thissss. They whissssper and tell sssstories sssso everyone knowssss.” Of course his hiss would become more pronounced now and he hated that too. “I was so tired,” he continued when he was certain his voice wouldn’t betray him. “And desperate. I wasn’t about to let the only humans who believed in me die.”

Aziraphale’s shoulders slumped. He reached around to stroke gently along Crawly’s back, leaving a trail of warmth wherever he touched. “I’m so sorry, my dear. I can’t imagine what it’s been like for you.”

Crawly melted into the touch. For a moment he was able to imagine that everything actually would be fine and then he stiffened. He slithered around so he could talk face to face. "Wait, where are the humans?" His whole body went slack, sure of the answer already. "It didn't work, did it? I screwed it up and they didn't make it anyway. I promised. I promisssed and still…"

“Crawly, no. Shhhhh, no, no, no,” Aziraphale soothed. “They’re fine. Just fine.”

Crawly was so busy cursing up a storm that it took a second for him to process what Aziraphale had said. “They’re… alright?” he asked, not daring to hope until it was confirmed again.

“More than, I’d say, given they were sustained for so long by celestial energies. I can take you to see them when you’ve rested up more.”

“I don’t need more sleep. I mean, probably do, but I already got a lot. I think. How long was I out?”

“Well-”

“Doesn’t matter. I won’t be able to get more sleep until I see them for myself. So if you won’t take me, I’ll just find them on my own. I’m sure I can sniff them out.”

Crawly moved to drop from Aziraphale’s shoulders but was stopped by a firm hand and a sigh. “Alright. Promise me you’ll try to rest up more after, though.”

“Promise,” Crawly replied without hesitation.

Once out of the cabin, a wave of animal smell hit Crawly. They didn’t have far to go. They passed tall fenced stalls that held elephants, camels, and giraffes. One of the giraffes had its neck curved to look into the next stall over, the one that Aziraphale approached after a furtive glance about.

“Miriam, I’m coming in,” he warned as he undid the latch. “I’ve got someone with me that I thought you might want to see.”

“You’re bringing someone?” came a woman’s nervous reply. “Who- oh.”

Crawly saw instantly what Aziraphale had meant about the humans being better than alright. There was the slightest glow to them, visible in the dim corner where the two elder children were huddled behind their mother, Miriam. As soon as they saw who was with Aziraphale, they all rushed over, the children in an excited jumble and their mother at a more controlled pace. Anah and her brother Reuel hopped up and tried to grab onto the end of Crawly’s tail but were stopped by Aziraphale.

“Alright now, children, Crawly has been through a lot. Best to look and not touch,” he tutted.

The children pouted in unison. Joy bubbled up inside Crawly at the sight of their innocent, open petulance. There they were, clearly considering disobeying the Principality, and he couldn’t help but laugh.

“That’s no fun,” he said and he dropped down without further warning.

The children shrieked and giggled. They stumbled with pudgy legs amongst his many winding coils while their mother and Aziraphale looked on with matching exasperated expressions. Their petting was far from gentle but Crawly enjoyed it more for that. He could still remember perfectly the way they’d hardly dared get near him at first. Now it was clear they could hardly get close enough.

“Az- Azira…” Anah screwed up her lips. “The other angel said you were sleeping and that we had to leave you alone. If you don’t need to eat, why do you need to sleep?”

“Because I like to sleep,” Crawly answered. Which was the truth, if not the whole truth of the situation. He didn’t like lying when answering questions but he didn’t think a teeny tiny omission would hurt in this case, given that the alternative was to risk the children feeling guilty for something he’d chosen to do. “Sleeping is great. Sometimes I think I would like to nap for a year.”

“A year?” Reuel gasped.

“Maybe a hundred.”

This was met by a peel of laughter from both Anah and Reuel who clearly thought he was joking. Which, he was. Sort of. A bit. Maybe.

“Wanna see the ostriches?” Anah asked, veering to another topic without warning the way only a child could.

“And sheep!” Reuel chimed in.

“Sheep are boring.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Uh-huh. We can always see sheep.”

Aziraphale held his hands up. “Children, we can see whatever you’d like.” He closed his eyes a moment and Crawly could feel him probing for the presence of any other celestial beings. One snap later to ensure they went unnoticed and he added, “Lead the way.”

The children scampered out of the stall, followed by their mother and baby brother, and finally the two angels. Crawly rode on Aziraphale’s shoulders so that he could actually see the animals. The children were more than happy to chatter at length about each animal they passed and Crawly was happy to listen. He found he was actually fairly interested since most creatures tended to give him a wide berth. The miracle that made them all more docile for life on the ark ensured he could get a good look without any of them panicking.

He wasn’t sure when he nodded off. Sleep was usually something he chose to do instead of something that simply fell on him, but one moment he was enjoying the children’s glee at the snakes and the next, he was nestled back in Aziraphale’s robes. Starlight washed the floor in a soft glow. Aziraphale was seated next to him, legs folded primly underneath himself. He was humming some human tune to himself and startled slightly when Crawly stirred.

“Awake again I see.”

“Nnnnh,” was Crawly’s eloquent response. He felt cold again and slithered up into Aziraphale’s lap in search of warmth. “How long was I out this time?”

Aziraphale conjured extra heat into his palms and stroked along Crawly’s spine. “Not long. Only a few hours. I do believe you’re properly on the mend at last.”

Crawly couldn’t manage much more than a thoughtful noise in response. The heat felt so nice and when he didn’t say anything more, Aziraphale started to sing the same tune he’d hummed before. Crawly thought it sounded familiar but Aziraphale had replaced the words with cheerful sounding nonsense. Combined with the ever present lap of water against the hull, it threatened to put Crawly right back to sleep. He would have happily submitted if it hadn’t meant he was liable to forget once more something he’d wanted to say.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

“Whatever for, my dear?” Aziraphale responded without pausing the soothing motion of his hand.

“The humans. You didn’t have to rescue them. I know you’re not supposed to.”

“Ah, well…” And now Aziraphale pulled back into himself and wrung his hands together. “No, I’m not, but no one ever said I couldn’t help you. So when I finally found you and you had the humans with you, what choice did I have? Perhaps I wasn’t supposed to save them but you’d already done that and I wasn’t about to kill them. Whether I did it outright or simply left them, it would all be the same thing in the end. Which meant there was only one thing to do. And you were all huddled together and really, it was just easier to take the whole boat and all its occupants than try to extricate you from the lot.”

Crawly could tell from the way Aziraphale was rambling that he’d rehearsed those excuses a few times in case he had to explain himself. “How’ve you kept four humans from going unnoticed?”

“It would seem most of the angels find all the animals a bit… distasteful, so they’ve mostly left me to it. Gabriel in particular, who was meant to keep me updated on when I might see land again. As for Noah and his family, they trust me to keep things in order.” Aziraphale squirmed and his gaze skipped around in search of sudden intruders. “So it’s really been no bother. Certainly nothing to thank me for.”

“You did a lot, Aziraphale. They all seemed happy and healthy. Don’t say that was all down to me because I haven’t been doing much of anything for a while. After everything they’ve been through, you made them smile again. You did that.” Crawly knew how difficult it must have been for Aziraphale. The Principality seemed forever torn between what he felt was right and what he thought Heaven wanted from him. He’d gone above and beyond even knowing it could get him in trouble. “So, yeah, think I actually do have to say thanks.”

Aziraphale squirmed again but it was clear he was pleased from the way his lips curled up despite himself. “When you put it like that, I suppose I must.” He averted his eyes and his cheeks tinged with pink. “Though I feel far from altruistic. I did it for you. Because of how much you’d given. Because of how I…”

He trailed off, leaving Crawly to wonder. And wonder he did, about that angel with self conscious crimson painting the tips of his pale ears and the light of a halo glowing delicately from just this side of reality. Aziraphale had gone so far out of his comfort zone, risked the wrath of heaven, all for him. A snake, the Serpent of Eden.

Again Crawly felt something too big, too complex for this simple corporation. It filled him and filled him and filled him, bigger than the wrathful sea outside. How could he feel something so huge? He doubted there’d be any containing it even if he’d had his proper form. He was a star too heavy to sustain itself, a supernova waiting to be born. He didn’t know how else to put it, even to himself. He didn’t think he’d ever felt something like this. It was all consuming and yet it gave and gave.

It was everything and it was nothing. It was-

Oh.

“Aziraphale, I- I think…”

“Hmm?”

He couldn’t say it. Were angels even allowed to love in this way? This was no wide, encompassing love for creation nor the intrinsic act of being that was loving Her. This was specific, desirous, needing of another like a mortal might need for air. Even if it could be holy, Crawly wasn’t sure it could be when coming from him. It would drag Aziraphale down. Aziraphale was meant to soar in the heavens, not be forced down into the dirt.

“What is it?” Aziraphale prompted again.

This feeling was a revelation but Crawly couldn’t reveal it. He’d rushed in too often and stumbled into folly. He couldn’t risk that. “I think I… might sleep again. For a bit.” There. That was better. Safer. “Could you stay with me? Maybe sing a bit? Helps me sleep.”

“Of course,” Aziraphale replied, his smile beatific.

Crawly slithered back into the pile of robes though he’d never felt warmer than he did with Aziraphale’s thigh pressed against him and a song drifting through the air just for him. He hadn’t thought what he felt could grow anymore but there it was, bubbling up. He had the same feeling he did when he’d first awakened from his long slumber, that he was swathed in clouds rather than fabric. He buried himself in the robes, sure that if he continued looking at Aziraphale he would burst.

Once more, impossibly given how he felt, sleep claimed him. It was not darkness that met him this time but a dream of the stars. Six wings carried him in a familiar dance. It felt right, better than it had when he’d done it in the waking world because this time Aziraphale was with him. They flew hand in hand to every one of Crawly’s creations. When there was no more to show, Crawly let out the feeling that was burning to be free and turned himself into a star just for Aziraphale.

He lingered blissfully in that dream until the sun on his eyelids couldn’t be ignored any longer. A smile remained painted on his lips despite the stiffness in all of his limbs. He indulged in a languorous stretch and yawned so wide it was a miracle his jaw didn’t end up unhinging. His fingers were buried deep in tangled curls before anything struck him as odd.

“You’re- you- you’re… oh my.”

Aziraphale’s stunned stammering confirmed it. He knew what he felt but he still had to look down, to press fingers into lightly freckled skin, in order to believe it. He was a tangle of limbs piled at Aziraphale’s feet. He had his body back. His. It didn’t make a bit of sense and he expected scales to sprout at any moment, but there was no denying it.

He thought of conjuring some clothes but decided for the moment that he’d rather wear Aziraphale’s discarded cloak. He didn’t care one speck that it was too large. He liked it more for that. Delighted laughter burbled up and escaped his lips- his lips- as he tried to get to his feet. It continued, even as he stumbled. It would have kept going until he hit the deck with his face but Aziraphale caught him first. Heat blossomed in his skin where Aziraphale’s hands made contact. Even if his legs hadn’t felt confusing at the moment, being so close to Aziraphale this way would have robbed him of the ability to walk all the same. His knees were uselessly weak.

“Careful now,” Aziraphale said softly as he tucked himself under an arm. “You’ll need some time to get used to your legs.”

“My legs,” the seraph repeated with a wide, crooked smile. “My legs.”

Aziraphale snapped and a pile of cushions appeared. He lowered the other angel onto them and then cocked his head. “It’s good to see you again,” he said. The skin about his eyes crinkled with his smile. Those blue eyes blew wide suddenly. “Oh. I remember now. You’re not Crawly. You’re-”

“Don’t.” A shiver passed through new skin. The former serpent couldn’t pin a finger on exactly why he dreaded hearing his old angelic name, only that it filled him with a distinct sense of wrong. “That’s not me anymore.”

“Not you?” Aziraphale asked, perplexed. “My dear, it’s your God given name. You’ve earned it back and you’re saying you don’t want it?”

“Nope.” The seraph picked absently at his fingernails and toes. He ran his tongue over his teeth as he considered. “Not that. Not Crawly either.”

“If you insist,” Aziraphale huffed.

“I do.”

“What should I call you, then?”

A good question. He drew in a long breath until he felt truth lodge somewhere in between his ribs. “Crowley,” he answered and he instantly knew it was right.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale echoed and if Crowley hadn’t known before, it was sealed as soon as he heard it come out of those lips. “If that makes you happy then, yes, I think it suits you.”

Crowley flashed his teeth in response. “Suits me, huh?”

He wasn’t sure who he was right now. His skin felt familiar and foreign all at once. He grabbed one of his feet and hooked it behind his neck. He was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to be able to do that. He wiggled his various digits and felt the pull of muscles and tendons as he stretched out his limbs again. He felt a bit looser at the joints than he had before but otherwise normal. He stuck his tongue out until he could see the rounded pink tip of it. Normal too. Unless… He concentrated and it forked at the end, falling somewhere between human and serpent. Concentrate more and it was back again. He was fairly certain if he really wanted to, he could be a snake again, but he didn’t want to.

Aziraphale watched him with a bemused smile as he continued testing the new parameters of his body. “Do you have any idea how this happened.”

“Nope,” Crowley said, popping the ‘p’ and thoroughly enjoying forming his mouth around words again instead of just willing them to come. “And for once, I’m not going to question it.”

He set his feet flat and pushed up in another attempt to stand. His hips swayed this way and that. He probably would have fallen again except that he pulled his wings out to balance him. A pleasant tingle ran up his spine. They ached to be used. His current quarters weren’t large enough to really stretch them, which only left him with one option.

He folded them tight against his back and reached out to take Aziraphale’s hand firmly in his own. “Come on.”

“Where to?”

“Just come along, would you? More fun if I show you.”

Aziraphale gave a small, tight nod. Crowley thought it was the other angel who was trembling and then he realized it was him. That wouldn’t do. He pushed past that jittery feeling, took a few gravity defying strides forward, and then hopped out the window, taking Aziraphale with him. Aziraphale all but fell out after. Crowley pulled the startled blond into his arms and they floated down together with the aid of six star bright wings.

He couldn’t help but laugh again as they made a soft landing on the surface of the water. He released Aziraphale from the embrace and took a few more increasingly steady steps. When he didn’t fall straight on his ass, he took another step, skipped, hopped, and fluttered forward. It was all marvellous. He could have spent the next thousand years reacquainting himself with everything he’d missed in the last thousand.

Aziraphale followed after him with a more controlled gate. “You really have no idea why you got your body back?” he asked. He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Given the timing, I suppose it must be what you did for the humans. Which, if that’s the case, Her plan truly is ineffable.”

Crowley twirled about on one foot and looked straight into eyes the same blue as the water beneath their feet. His heart pounded hard in his chest. Love, it said.

“Not a clue,” was the easy lie, though only a partial one at that. He knew in his soul what this was about but that didn’t mean he knew the reasoning. Perhaps She was rewarding him for not sullying Aziraphale with this imperfect, all too human love. “Like I said, not questioning it.” He extended a hand toward Aziraphale. “Fly with me?”

Aziraphale let out his own wings with a contented sigh and took Crowley’s hand. “I’d love to.”

Love. Love. Love.

Hand in hand, they took flight.

#fic #good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #anthony j crowley #snake crowley #angel!crowley #go au: tmgt #aziraphale #my writing

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kinsbin · 4 years

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Brother and Sister [Xena/Obi-Wan Kenobi {Platonic}]

Title: Brother and Sister Pairing: Xena/Obi-Wan Kenobi {Platonic/Familial Selfship} Word Count: 2710 Rating: T [Drinking, Mentions of Vomit]

Summary: On an undercover mission to scout out a wanted criminal, Obi-Wan Kenobi and Xena find themselves in a cantina with a little too much alcohol in their system. Well, too much in Xena’s system at least. The confessions it causes Xena to spill to her friend comes as a shock to them both as she tells him feelings she hadn’t told anyone else before. Yet, it brings them closer all the same.

A/N:A piece I did for my platonic ship with Obi-Wan because HE’S MY BROTHER and thought we had a rocky relationship at the start, I grow to love and cherish him as my family ;w;

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Xena threw her head back, swallowing her fifth shot of hard liquor in one fell swoop and slamming the glass down onto the table with a satisfied sigh. Obi-Wan felt his eyes narrow as he watched the girl before him sink comfortably down to lay her head on one of her arms against the table, humming as her eyes lazily scanned over the crowd with delightfully obvious curiosity. .

Obi-Wan kicked her under the table, making Xena yelp and slam her head a bit too hard into her glass.

“Obiiiiiii-” Her whine was childish as she pouted, her gaze genuinley misty with near tears as she threw herself forward to tug at his arm, “Why’d ya do thaaaaaaaaath-?”

“Shush,” Obi-Wan ordered carefully, “We’re undercover, remember? You shouldn’t use my name in a place like this.”

“Huh? Oh, right.” Xena nodded as she waved down a passing waiter, tapping the edge of her shot glass with two fingers to signal her need for a refill. She smiled as the Mandalorian woman in the cantina’s uniform gave her a nod and scooped up her glass without another word. She waved as the server disappeared behind the bar and giggled when she saw the look of near fatherly disapproval in his eyes as he watched her form. There was another tap to Xena’s leg, softer this time and with more of a worried reach through the force than pleasant.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough? I doubt you could even see straight enough to identify our target.”

“Puh-LEASE-” Xena giggled out as she accepted her shots from the same Mandalorian server as they passed by, throwing it back as quickly as she had the fifth one, “You said we’re undercover right? You’re not a patron in a cantina unless ONE OF YOU is drunk off their asses. ‘Sides, it’s been a while since I’ve had any good liquor! Can ya just let me have this?”

Obi-Wan sighed, knowing that no matter his orders she was too far gone for him to truly be able to stop her. Her mind was swimming in a groggy field of wet soup, endless and vast in its reach as he prodded gently at her with the force to assure her state of mind. Xena tilted her head from side to side as she stared at the table for a while longer with a spacey curiosity that seemed to overrun her mind.

The two wore such casual clothes in the night that one would never assume their position as Jedi and Force Sensitive sidekick, Xena mused with a giggle to herself. Indeed seeing Obi-Wan out of his Jedi robes, a pair of simple trousers on and a top that showed off his arms a little too much (Anakin’s defense being that it was the only thing they had available, though she was sure he just wanted to embarrass his master) was a sight that no one would believe should she try and describe it to them.She couldn’t wait to message his lover, though, and describe the sight to her. Lord knows it would make the woman flustered and that, Xena hid her mischievous smirk, was worth this entire mission. A bubble of giggles rose in her throat and she exhaled them with a smile beneath her arm.

“What’s so funny?” Obi-Wan took a sip of his own water as he asked the question.

“You look stupid,” Xena declared, “Your face and those clothes... all so stupid!”

“Are you always this brutally honest when you’re inhebriated?”

“Maybe? Can’t remember! Haven’t been proper drunk since I left Tatooine YEARSSSS ago.”

The mention of her old planet made Xena pause as she leaned forward, touching the rim of her sticky shot glass with moderate fascination as she let the sound of the music and laughter surrounding them overrun her senses for a few, sweet moment of blissful static in the back of her mind.

“He never liked drinking... We rarely went to cantinas unless it was for trying to find information on the Jedi... even then, it was always to eat more than to get a drink.”

Obi-Wan didn’t say anything. Xena could tell from the tenseness in his shoulders that he knew clearly who she was talking about. Her smile turned something between bitter and sad as she sat up a bit, wobbling through her lack of central balance and leaning her face on the palm of one hand, staring at the Jedi with vague interest as her mouth curled and offered itself to continue with an almost biting done behind her slurred speech:

“You know, he was a really good guy, Obi.”

“He was a sith lord.”

“HE WAS THE MAN I LOVED!”

She yelled this last part, hands slamming down on the table as she flew upwards into a standing position. Xena’s eyes were fire, red and hot and angry so much so that her tattoos seemed to glow along with her frustration. At this point the cantina fell silent as patrons turned to face them both, eyes suddenly all too interested in the spat of friends that seemed to be occurring between them. Obi-Wan cleared his throat and stood up, slamming down his own glass alongside enough currency to cover the tab both of them had accumulated before making his way to Xena with a sigh.

“I think you’ve had quite enough for one night. We’re going back to the hotel.”

“No,” Xena bemoaned, “I want another shot.”

“No,” Obi’s firm voice left no room for fighting him, “You’re going back.”

---

Xena couldn’t walk straight as they left. Obi-Wan settled for wrapping one of her arms over his shoulder and carrying her sideways, like a drunken puppet, out of the cantina and towards the overlooking inn a close distance from the small hole in the wall they had found. All the while Xena didn’t look at him. Her gaze cast itself to the side as she wobbled, mumbling words to herself in languages she was clearly mixing up and slurring with the alcohol in her system.

Eventually she fell, laying down on the cool concrete and refusing to stand, causing Obi-Wan to groan and simply scoop her up in his arms to carry her the rest of the way.

Xena let him, though her constant wiggling and shifting in his grip was enough of a signal that she wasn’t thrilled.

No words were spoken until they arrived to their shared room, the two beds on either side sparse in their decoration but comfortable enough. Obi dropped her unceremoniously onto her own bed and ran a hand through his hair, sighing at the chances they had wasted all for one drunk assistant.

“Next time,” Obi-Wan groaned, “You get one drink and water the rest of the night.”

Xena giggled and rolled in her bed, sitting up and hugging a pillow, tilting her head at the Jedi with a deep sigh.

“You know,” She hummed, “I used to really. REALLY fucking hate you.”

Obi-Wan froze and turned to her, his brows furrowed. He would be lying if he said those words didn’t hurt him just a little bit. Xena looked away before she continued through the pillow pressing ot her mouth.

“When you first found me on Maul’s ship... I lied to you, you know? I saw you kill him... I saw his body fall and I was so. So angry at you that I went to that ship and waited for you because I wanted to kill you myself... But when you came and I felt your... Your force and aura and... I thought ‘whats stopping him from killin you if he finds out what Maul was to you’? So I lied and told you ‘n the council that.... that he kidnapped me. But you know- you know i know you do- that that wasn’t true. He was-”

“Your lover,” Obi finished for her as he saw the tears stain the corners of her eyes, “I know.”

She laughed as her sadness rolled off of her in waves. A hot and warm thing that boiled the air of the force around her as she clung to the pillow tightly and shut her eyes to try and stop any more wetness from accumulating in her ducts. Instead the tears fell anyways, hot and thick down her cheeks as she laughed a little more.

“I hated you for months after that. I hated seeing you... Hated being near you... But... But I... You offered to keep me with you and Annie... Let me stay by you and train even th-though I wasn’t even fully anything but a little force sensitive and... you were so fucking kind to me it made me want to throw up -k inda still does but i also had six shots of liquor...”

Xena winced, suddenly queezy, but she finally opened her eyes, still tear filled and wet but... she was smiling now, wincing at Obi as she tilted her head.

“Now I... don’t hate you, just so you know. I don’t I... You’re the closest thing to family I ever had, really.”

“Family?” The word left Obi-Wan’s lips before he could stop himself, confusion and awe clear in his face.

Xena nodded vigorously as she smiled wider.

“Yeah! Like an annoying older brother who never lets me have any fun.”

“You don’t get ot have ‘fun’ because I let you have fun tonight and the result was six shots and a scene in the cantina we’re supposed to be laying low in.”

“Yeah exactly just like that!”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes and Xena giggled, falling backwards onto her bed and taking a long, deep sigh as she pulled her pillow closer to her and shut her eyes.

“I don’t hate you anymore, Kenobi... I just.... Wish that things had been different and I could still know you and have him... I know they can’t be but... As much as I love you....I miss him.”

Obi-Wan had nothing to say to her words. He merely approached her bed and sat at the side of it, running a hand through his friend’s hair as he watched her slowly, surely, pass out into a deep and immovable sleep.

Obi-Wan didn’t move after that. He simply sat there and watched her rest, the slow and steady breathing of her dream-state the only sign of contentedness he had ever seen on the woman’s face in his life. Even then, there was something troubled about it. something in her brow and within her force that laced itself with a pained sort of pity that only substance abuse could possibly bring up within her as she clenched and unclenched her jaw rhythmically through her dream.

She hated him, but now she didn’t. The words repeated themselves in his head as he thought of his own feelings towards the other. Similarly familial, he thought of having a sister. Of growing up at her side, protective and careful should any man or woman or creature alike try to hurt her. It was a strange sense of protectiveness that overwhelmed him. A gentle worry for the girl before him as he exhaled and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Perhaps if they were truly brother and sister, he could have led her away from the path Maul had set for her.

With her stubbornness, his mind warned snarkily back, he honestly doubted he would have made any successful progress.

Standing, Obi-Wan left Xena to her rest and exited out of the hotel room they shared. She wasn’t going to be feeling well in the morning, that was for certain, and he had to make sure that she at least could function during a call from the other Jedi Maters of their progress.

---

Xena awoke the next morning with a pain in both her head and her stomach.

She groaned and rolled slightly in her bed, wincing as the light from the window above her assaulted all of the senses that were just too sore for her to function. Reaching aimlessly for a pillow, she flung it over her head and groaned in exhaustion as the hangover began to pump itself excessively in the back of her mind. What the hell happened the other night?

She spent the next few minutes simply thinking, as hard as the task was, about the night and the events of the bar. With Obi-Wan Kenobi and-

Her eyes widened and her face paled. Oh. So that’s what she had said to him, huh?

As if on cue the door to their room opened and Xena felt guilt sink itself fiercely in the pit of her stomach as she tried to bite back tears of shame. Her aura could not be hid as Obi-Wan stared down at the amalgamation of her in the bed, his eyebrow raising as she tried to curl herself into an even smaller ball against his Jedi presence.

“Good morning,” Obi-Wan greeted with a small smirk to his lips, “Still in the mood for another shot?”

“I’ll shoot you,” Xena groaned from her pillow despite herself, “Next time cut me off at two shots, please, I’m begging you.”

“I tried that,” Obi-Wan chuffed, “You gave me a less than pleasant gesture with your finger before taking your third.”

“Yeah, that sounds like two-drink Xena.”

There was a long swatch of silence as Obi-Wan walked over and placed a glass of water at the side of her head atop the table, the cool beverage making itself known with the metallic ‘clink’ of the cup as it hit the wood. Alongside it, a couple of small white pills were placed just in arms reach. Xena lifted up one edge of her pillow to squint at the newly arrived items in surprise.

“Some pain killers and water,” The Jedi above her stated, “I figured you’d need them after all of that.”

“Oh... thanks.” Xena murmured as she sat up just enough to take the beverage, popping the pills and chugging the water gratefully as her dry throat heaved in refusal of anymore liquid. God, she was probably going to vomit later, she winced at the thought.

Obi-Wan smiled before going about his business in their room, and silence engulfed them once again.

Xena swallowed hard as she finally spoke:

“Master Kenobi about... What I was saying the other night... I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” Obi-Wan paused and turned to look at her with another raised eyebrow.

Xena didn’t look him in the eyes, hugging her cup close to her as she bit her lip and nodded.

“I talked about... I know he killed your master. I know what he did is wrong... I shouldn’t have shared what I did with you, and I especially shouldn’t have gone out of my place to talk about my personal feelings for you and-”

“That’s quite enough of that.”

Xena startled as Obi-Wan plucked the empty cup from her hands and set it on the nightstand with a sigh.

“I won’t pretend what you told me didn’t hurt. It did-” Xena winced at the words - “But... You also told me how you see me as a brother. As someone, now, you care for. Was that part true?”

Xena blushed and huffed, nodding her head ‘yes’ as she curled in more on herself. Obi-Wan couldn’t help but smile.

“And that feeling is mutual. I can’t stop the decisions you’ve made in the past, Xena, but I feel your future brimming with a brighter hope than ever before. Should I have the honor of being in your life to help guide you, well, I won’t say ‘no’.”

Xena stared, slack jawed in shock at the man before her as he ruffled her hair (causing another long pained groan to escape her lips) and returned about his business. She watched his back with curiosity, tilting her head and wincing as more light poured over his form and hurt her eyes and head all at the same time. Then, looking down at her hands and seeing the simple shape of them against the sheets... Xena smiled slightly.

Jedi couldn’t make decisions with their feelings... but it certainly didn’t stop them from having them, now did it?

“Obi-Wan?”

“Yes?”

“... Thank-You.”

And he smiled despite himself.

“Of coures.”

#self ship #self shipping #platonic self ship #platonic f/o #my stupid jEDI BROTHER WHO I ADORE #this was very comforting to write honestly #sometimes i just need my big bro to get me asprin after a hangover

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therestisconfettii · 5 years

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My first fanfic in YEARSSSS

The dirty red and green sweater was there again that night - as soon as Alison had closed her eyes she had known that she was no longer alone. With her eyes squeezed tightly shut, she prayed to herself, pleading for it to be just a dream – a dream she would wake from, could wake from, able to laugh at herself for being so naively and unnecessarily petrified. But she knew, she knew that it was not a dream and no matter how desperately she tried to disguise her fear, her trembling body betrayed her façade.

With a deep breath, Alison opened her eyes. She was back in the boiler room, a place she had come to know so very well. A thick wave of steam filled the air causing Alison’s eyes to burn and her chest to tighten, she spluttered uncontrollably.

With her view mired by the thick fog, Alison trepidly shuffled forward, her bare feet burning on the hot metal below her. Her long white nightgown caressed the curves of her slender figure and softly trailed the floor, fraying around the edges with each step she took. The pipes around her whistled and hummed with every step – each sound causing her skin to prickle and her heart to beat harder, faster.

Alison could remember the first time she had seen Freddy’s face - the hideous scars that rippled his skin like the scales of a creature, his worn fedora that hung slightly forward shielding his eyes from view and the vicious smell that clawed at her nostrils from his decaying teeth as he smiled menacingly and whispered “I’m the man of your dreams sweetheart”.

The dreams had started to happen a month or so back, her friends had shared an online forum with her full of crazy people discussing a man name Freddy Krueger, a child molester burnt to death by the angry parents of the children he had abused. The forum was filled with theories and stories about how Freddy’s spirit had lived on and he was killing people in the confines of their imaginations. Alison had thought the thread was nothing but nonsense and distortion, but the dreams she had been having were leading her to believe that perhaps some truth lay behind the claims.

The first nightmare came the night her friends had introduced her to the idea of Freddy. She had been lay on her couch drifting peacefully in and out of sleep when two pairs of arms shot out of the sofa, grabbing her and locking her into position. Alison had screamed in pure terror and wrestled against the mysterious arms to no avail, they pinned her down spreading her legs. A bladed hand began to rise out of the couch between her legs, swiping ferociously, catching her inner thigh.

Alison had awoken screaming and fallen from the couch in a panic, her body soaked with sweat, her breathing heavy. Only after she had calmed herself down did she notice the blood seeping through her clothes. Alison had been unable to sleep since – with every loss of consciousness came the man with the dirty red and green sweater.

Alison knew that this night would be no different, but after 3 consecutive nights of no sleep she was beginning to falter. She could barely keep her eyes open in class and her mind had begun playing tricks on her, every person she laid eyes on would morph into Freddy.

With sleep beckoning, she had decided to give in to her temptation – setting an alarm for fifteen minutes time, hoping this would rouse her from her sleep unscathed.

The loud clanging of metal made her stomach somersault as she rounded the corner in the boiler room, the sound of metal scarping metal made her hairs stand on end. ‘you’re going to make it, you’re going to make it’ she whispered to herself over and over.

Alison began to regret her decision to sleep, becoming angry at herself for being weak and giving in. Suddenly, a tall shadowy figure began to rise from the ground in front of her, a small yelp escaped her lips before she had time to catch it.

She stood agonizingly still as she watched the figure grow taller and taller, so impossibly tall it seemed as though the room around them was shrinking. Before she could say or do anything the figure lunged at her causing her to scream so loudly she could feel the room begin to shake. Unexpectedly, the figure dissipated into a thick black fog as it slammed into her tensed body. Alison silently fought the urge the throw up and as tears cascaded down her cheeks she prayed to wake up.

Pushing forwards, her entire body trembled with fear. She wanted desperately to use the pipes as a guide but, as she had learned from another nightmare, they were excruciatingly hot to touch – so hot, she had awoken to blistering burns across her palms.

She reached another corner and urged her body to keep going, but the sound of faint tapping filled her with dread. As she rounded the corner she came face to face with 3 three young girls, playing with a jump rope. Two were swinging the rope and the third was jumping – all singing the same song. A song she had heard before. It meant that he was close.

One, two, Freddy’s coming for you the girl’s voices echoed, sending a chill down Alison’s spine, she turned to run back. Three, four, better lock your door, five, six, grab your crucifix, seven, eight, better stay up late’ abruptly the voices disappeared, leaving Alison alone with the whispering of the pipes.

Alison’s mind was running in circles, her pulse thudding piercingly in her ears, “why hadn’t they finished the song?”. Panic beginning to take over, her vision began to spin.

‘Nine, Ten, never sleep again’ a deep voice whispered into her ear.

A pair of hands shot around Alison and squeezed her tight. She tried to scream and fight but all that could escape her mouth was the air being squeezed from her lungs by the strong grip. She was running out of time. Desperately, Alison threw her head back expecting to feel a painful collision of heads, but she was greeted by nothing but air. She fell to the floor, gasping for air. Where had he gone?

Alison looked to her watch, ‘ten minutes, just another ten minutes’ she whispered.

She stood, regaining her balance and panned the room for an exit. There was a narrow corridor to her left that she had not seen before – deciding to pursue this, she ran as fast her legs would carry her, not stopping for breath for fear of Freddy being on her trail.

Her run slowed to a halt as she came to the end of the corridor. Thick white plastic sheets hung like curtains in her way preventing her from seeing any further down her chosen path. An unexpected draft caused the sheets to writhe. Freddy’s laugh echoed down the corridor, snapping Alison from her daze and spurring her into action. She quickly grabbed the plastic sheets and whipped them aside.

Alison gasped as she stepped forward. As the sheets receded, an old derelict house came into view. The house appeared abandoned and was secluded, standing alone on the unkempt land. Panic stricken, Alison turned back to re-enter the boiler room, but it was no longer there. As she turned, she came face to face with overgrown land that went on for what appeared to be miles.

The wind began to whip Alison’s night gown and stung at her skin. Deciding it was her only option, she headed for the house, weaving through the overgrown grass. The closer she became to the house, the taller and darker it appeared. Every window was broken and boarded up and the wooden door frame was rotten and gathering a collection of moss and weed. The porch at the entrance to the house was worn and splintered and pained her bare feet as she stepped up towards the door.

With baited breath, she reached for the door handle and pushed. The door opened with an eerie creak. As she slowly stepped inside a deafening silence infiltrated her senses. The entire building was littered with cobwebs and the only light was that of the moonlight streaming in through the cracks of the boarded-up windows.

The light streamed through the cracks of the house, illuminating a path up the stairway. As though drawn by a force, Alison mounted the stairs.

Her grip tightened on the rotting banister as she began her ascent. She looked down to her watch ‘5 minutes to go’. As she reached the top of the stairs, the light began to fade. Making her way across the landing she began to squint as her eyes adjusted to dark. Alison’s attention was caught by what looked like a pile of material on the floor, as she moved closer a scream escaped her lips.

A young girl in a blood-soaked cotton white dress lay in a heap, a teddy clutched in her hand. Alison trembled, tears streaming down her face as she reached out to touch the girl. Suddenly the girls neck snapped sharply, and her face contorted into an evil grin ‘he’s home’ she whispered as she melted into the floor and disappeared between the floorboards.

‘No!’ Shouted Alison, spinning on her heels.

Freddy’s lips curled into a vicious smile as he raised his gloved hand and waved. His other hand shot out and pulled Alison closer to him. She fought and screamed, ‘please, not, get off me!’

Freddy loved when they pleaded. It made him feel as though he was a God. He ran his bladed hand through her hair and watched as a few strands came loose and fell to the floor. ‘Don’t worry’ he whispered, his rotting breath infiltrating her airways ‘I don’t bite hard’ His un-gloved hand ran down her back and grabbed at her skin.

He leaned in to smell Alison’s hair. ’Strawberry. My favourite’ he exclaimed before running his tongue down the side of her face, his viscous laugh ripped through the air once more as he felt her squirm against him. His grip tightened and his hand grasped at her breast. She threw her hand towards him with as much force as she could muster, slapping him harshly across the face. This made him laugh even more.

Abruptly, Freddy launched his bladed hand at Alison, catching her shoulder. She fell to the floor with force, tears streaming down her cheeks as she clutched her wound.

She felt Freddy’s hand slip around her neck and grab her hair. He yanked her up from the floor with such force Alison was sure he’d break her neck.

He gently ran a blade down her face, leaving a red mark down her cheek. ‘Beg’ he smiled ‘Make Freddy happy little one. Beg’

‘No’ Alison cried.

‘Bad girl’ he cooed. With the hand wrapped in her hair he tilted her head backwards and placed a soft kiss to her lips. Lifting a blade to her throat, he slowly sliced and watched as her eyes widened and her chest began to heave and glow a violent red. He tenderly ran his tongue along her chest, tasting his victory and then loosened his grip and let her fall to the floor.

Alison’s body glistened with blood in the moonlight, her final whimpers heaving her blood-soaked chest.

The watch on her wrist began to chime and Freddy smiled again.

He laughed as he walked away into the night, ‘too late little one’

#Freddy Krueger #nightmare on elm street #a nightmare on elm street #elm street #fanfic #fan fiction #creative writing #horror #horror fiction #horror writing

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