Title: Snow
Author: Azrael
Pairing: gen
Fandom: Good Omens
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Good Omens, and Aziraphale and Crowley, belong to Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett.
Note: A gift for the GO Exchange mods in 2008.
Summary: Crowley hated snow.***
Crowley hated snow.
There was the obvious reason, of course; his reptilian nature preferred warm sunlight to freezing snow and irritatingly pretty snowflakes. There was also the fact that snow meant Christmas -- in the Northern Hemisphere, at least. And Christmas meant the season of giving, of love and goodwill, and choirs of angels. It was enough to make any demon gag.
Snow reminded him of Heaven. Where it was always cool, refreshing breezes blew, and everything was illuminated by silvery light. He remembered working in the Hall of Being, as Gadre'el, and helping invent snow (A few minutes later, snowfights had promptly been invented as well). He wasn't sure he wanted to be reminded of all that.
Aziraphale loved snow. He loved twirling around on the snow-covered pavements, hands outstretched, laughing as snowflakes settled in his clothes and hair (Crowley always insisted on miracling them away before the angel set foot in the Bentley). The angel delighted in dragging him along for Christmas shopping; Crowley retaliated by causing long queues, traffic jams, childrens' tantrums and the like.
One Christmas Eve, Crowley leaned against the Bentley outside the bookshop, watching Aziraphale twirl in the snow as usual. The crisp wintry sunlight reflected off the snowflakes in his golden hair, creating what could almost pass for his halo. Sky-blue eyes shone, as a chill breeze ruffled the golden curls, heightening the halo effect. Crowley's throat seemed to constrict slightly. For a moment, Crowley was back in the Hall of Being, watching the others delight in this new creation. And as Gadre'el had once thrown snow at Izrafael, so now Crowley scooped up a handful of snow and threw it at Aziraphale.
Later, as they sat side by side in front of the fire in Aziraphale's back room, sipping hot milky tea (which, for once, Crowley hadn't miracled into something stronger, which was a miracle in itself) and watching snowflakes drift past the window, the demon allowed himself to enjoy this small part of Heaven, right here on Earth. Crowley smiled. Maybe snow wasn't that bad after all.
***