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slashthedrabble Aug. 28th, 2008 05:04 pm)
shinodabear.livejournal.com posting in slashthedrabble Aug. 28th, 2008 05:04 pm)Not Helping
Fandom: Good Omens
Prompt: 048 Comfort
Rating: PG
Pairing: Adam/Wensleydale, Crowley/Aziraphale
Disclaimer: Neil and Terry are the dreamteam. I’m the dreamer.
“I don’t know why you just don’t zap back to being a kid, or zap back and stop yourself from aging altogether. You could do that, you know. None of this teenage angst that's so popular these days. Was that yours or mine, angel?" Crowley took a biscuit from the plate, smiling like the man-shaped snake he was.
“Be nice, dear,” Aziraphale chided, “and consider yourself thwarted.”
Crowley, not caring that he hadn't finished chewing his biscuit, turned and curtly asked, “For what?”
“For putting ideas into his head. Adam, growing up is a wonderful experience, a truly human and blissful experience.”
“A miserable experience.”
“Crowley.”
“What the angel’s leaving out, kid, is that being human is like being one of those whatchamacall’ems. Punching bags. Nobody wants to be a punching bag.”
“I believe the phrase is ‘one must roll with the punches.’”
“You still get hit.”
They continued bickering. Adam continued sulking. He thought they’d be able to help, but all they gave him was a headache. Being sixteen wasn’t as fun as being eleven, and not nearly as easy. When you were eleven, you didn’t have to worry about those funny things your stomach did around someone you liked to be around, or the way your hands always bumped with someone else’s. Kisses were yucky and completely undesirable. You only thought of smelling someone else’s clothes when they rubbed a particular sweaty shirt under your nose; You’d get them right back and grab them in a headlock or something. You didn’t have to worry about having a crush on someone for reasons you had no idea why.
“Adam, dear?” Aziraphale set down a cup of tea in front of him. “Is something wrong?"
“No.” Only, there was. He was the cool kid, who had a crush on the dorky kid who was his best friend when he should've been his best target for hassling and stuff like that.
Why didn’t anyone bother grownups about their relationships? Adam sulked further as Aziraphale puttered about Crowley, cleaning up the mess he made of the biscuits and getting into another argument or conversation or whatever it was they did when they exchanged words.
Outside, it started to rain, because Adam wanted it to. It was Wednesday. Wednesdays always reminded him of Wensleydale. No one called him that anymore, though. Just Adam. Only Adam. And that silly ol' Wens had no idea.
Fandom: Good Omens
Prompt: 048 Comfort
Rating: PG
Pairing: Adam/Wensleydale, Crowley/Aziraphale
Disclaimer: Neil and Terry are the dreamteam. I’m the dreamer.
“I don’t know why you just don’t zap back to being a kid, or zap back and stop yourself from aging altogether. You could do that, you know. None of this teenage angst that's so popular these days. Was that yours or mine, angel?" Crowley took a biscuit from the plate, smiling like the man-shaped snake he was.
“Be nice, dear,” Aziraphale chided, “and consider yourself thwarted.”
Crowley, not caring that he hadn't finished chewing his biscuit, turned and curtly asked, “For what?”
“For putting ideas into his head. Adam, growing up is a wonderful experience, a truly human and blissful experience.”
“A miserable experience.”
“Crowley.”
“What the angel’s leaving out, kid, is that being human is like being one of those whatchamacall’ems. Punching bags. Nobody wants to be a punching bag.”
“I believe the phrase is ‘one must roll with the punches.’”
“You still get hit.”
They continued bickering. Adam continued sulking. He thought they’d be able to help, but all they gave him was a headache. Being sixteen wasn’t as fun as being eleven, and not nearly as easy. When you were eleven, you didn’t have to worry about those funny things your stomach did around someone you liked to be around, or the way your hands always bumped with someone else’s. Kisses were yucky and completely undesirable. You only thought of smelling someone else’s clothes when they rubbed a particular sweaty shirt under your nose; You’d get them right back and grab them in a headlock or something. You didn’t have to worry about having a crush on someone for reasons you had no idea why.
“Adam, dear?” Aziraphale set down a cup of tea in front of him. “Is something wrong?"
“No.” Only, there was. He was the cool kid, who had a crush on the dorky kid who was his best friend when he should've been his best target for hassling and stuff like that.
Why didn’t anyone bother grownups about their relationships? Adam sulked further as Aziraphale puttered about Crowley, cleaning up the mess he made of the biscuits and getting into another argument or conversation or whatever it was they did when they exchanged words.
Outside, it started to rain, because Adam wanted it to. It was Wednesday. Wednesdays always reminded him of Wensleydale. No one called him that anymore, though. Just Adam. Only Adam. And that silly ol' Wens had no idea.
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