Fandom Oneshots [Mainly Marvel, Sherlock, and Good Omens, and House MD]

Good Omens: (Ineffable Husbands) "Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy"

Just heavy fluff because yes.

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The night threw a fit with winds that drove by, drumming alongside animal screeches that acted like a song, which rang upon the ears of a certain serpent. Now, the serpent wasn't the only one who heard this tantrum of the weather. It was only he was certainly more aware of the sounds from above as the bed had been pushed right beside a large window. 

The drab outside had about the same shade of grey as the flat of this serpent. He wallowed around the mattress, throwing up an apple from his palms and letting it fall from the sky and right back into his palms. If he wanted to recall, it would be like an apple falling from a tree. Instead, he recalled the old gramophone Aziraphale had given him and a few pieces of vinyl of Queen he had bought around the time they were popular.

He snapped his fingers, watching the storm clouds brewing even more. The world was just narrowed down to him and the thoughts of Aziraphale's smile when he dropped it off. Of course, the angel left as soon as he came, fearing for heaven's glare on him.

"I can dim the lights and sing you songs full of sad things..." Freddie sang. He also remembered that one time getting drunk and actually speaking to the man himself. He was sure he had messed up as he chatted about "his angel" for the whole time. Which was all forgotten when he heard the song come out. He had nearly disincorporated.

"We can do the tango just for two..." 

Crowley sat up and watched the vinyl spin, around and around. Just like how he and Aziraphale have been for the years that have passed. From the end of Armageddon, as told as "the start of the end," to The Arrangement with a capital "T" and "A," to the beginning, The Garden of Eden itself.

"I can serenade and gently play on your heartstrings..." 

There was a lot Crowley could recall and he wanted to remember all of it because, for 6000 years, he was by Aziraphale and Aziraphale alone. Sometimes, he'd write something on a random slip of paper just to remind again in a century. Even when his dear angel said, "you go too fast for me, Crowley." Even that.

"Be your Valentino just for you..."

Just Crowley and his good old-fashioned lover boy.

Which was true because right after "Ooh, love, ooh, loverboy..." Rang out from the gramophone, the door slammed open and neat footsteps played in the halls. Crowley nearly rolled off from the bed in a flurry of thunder and footsteps.

"Azzz-iraphale?" Crowley hissed, his mouth twisting as it decided to shout with joy and ask the question he always asked to keep his body cool. Then again, he was a snake. So in the end, it sounded like he was pushed off the bed as he got to the end of the angel's name. As in, he fell as he pronounced, "fell."

"Ah!" The man smiled with the signature tilt of his head to the right, blue eyes glittering under his eyelashes. Exactly the beautiful smile he wanted to see, right here, right now. "I just wanted to see you," He answered.

"Could've, erm... I dunno? Miracle inside the flat?" Crowley's snake-eyes narrowed behind his round sunglasses and then drifted to the wet hair and suit Aziraphale now don. 

"Would've been awfully rude of me."

Crowley shrugged as his hands dug into the pockets of his black skinny jeans. "Would be better than you complaining to me," He said with no venom. "I know how much you love that suit."

"Oh, Crowley," Aziraphale smiled, "I'd give up this silly suit and everything else for you," His voice turned into decrescendo that drifted into a faint whisper. Crowley nearly sobbed and said, "Gross, angel, get out of here, you cheesy son of a loving family a golden retriever, living in Sussex with a beekeeper in town."

Instead, he snapped and let Aziraphale's suit and hair dry up instantly. Crowley saw flashbacks of the paintball arena with the smile Aziraphale gave him.

"Say the word, your wish is my command..."

Crowley tried not to rock on his feet, a habit he barely did and could easily stop, but somehow he didn't. "So... wine?" Crowley gestured towards the kitchen where only the thing he used in there was the cabinets and wine racks.

"Absolutely," Aziraphale answered as they popped onto the sofa, two clean, gold-rimmed wine glasses in their hands. 

Crowley leaned back, this time, leaning a bit closer to Aziraphale than usual, just because he felt like it.

"Ooh, love, ooh, loverboy..."

Half an hour later, Crowley had fallen onto Aziraphale's lap. At the same time, the angel had rolled halfway down, leaning his head on the backrest whilst stroking the flame-red hair of his friend softly. His fingers weaving around the strands like a skilled basket-weaver.

"I'rea'y like that one," Aziraphale said, slurring every letter he possible to man, or rather, every other word. 

Crowley felt like he would've purred of he didn't say, "Mhm?" In the most groggy and drunk voice he'd ever muster up. "Wadda'ya mean by'h that?" He said, snapping another glass full of red wine.

"I mean the... the song, when I came 'n," Aziraphale stared at the ceiling, "It has a nice... nice..." It would be years and years before he would finish the sentence. That was a lie, as none of them finished the sentence in the end.

"Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy," Crowley had slid off Aziraphale now and was faceplanting into the sofa's cushions. Aziraphale frowned for a second at the loss of weight.

"Is'a by that Queen fellow?" Crowley perked up.

Crowley counted on his fingers before he realized what the question was. "Not just'a 'ellow, there's four in the band," Crowley answered.

"Mhm, good thing he... he has friends," Aziraphale said, sliding down further. About one more slip and he would be sitting on the ground.

Crowley then snapped his fingers, getting the gramophone to play "You're My Best Friend" as the song had turned to "Under Pressure" by the hour.

"Ooh, you make me live..."

Both Aziraphale and Crowley perked up at the sound of a tape stopping and drawing back. Aziraphale paused his soft and slow breaths.

"Erm... is'that suppose to...?"

"Nope," Crowley answered, now being surprisingly sober.

"Hey, boy, where do you get it from...?" Rang in the flat and Crowley blinked.

"Erm," Aziraphale blurted out, also following in sobriety, pursing his lips.

They stared at each other for a good few seconds before Crowley scoffed and said, "Yeah, and God doesn't play games," He buried his head in the sofa after quoting Gabriel. 

"Are you going to say, the great blasted plan?" Aziraphale asked.

"Nah."

"Dining at the Ritz, we'll meet at nine precisely..." Played in the flat and "(One, two, three, four, five,  six, seven, eight, nine o'clock...)" Whispered behind.

"You know, Crowley, I do believe we did go to the Ritz many times... well, we went most of the time at nine," Aziraphale stated.

"Coincidence?" Crowley winced.

"Of course not, not with you, you wily serpent," Aziraphale smiled and Crowley melted back into the sofa.

"Just take me back to yours, that will be fine. (Come on and get it...)"

The long pit of silence between the two ended, surprisingly, when Aziraphale pipped up.

"Crowley?"

"Yes, angel?"

"Who am I to you?" Crowley paused.

"Well, you're my enemy, my ally, my partner, my best friend..." Crowley nodded at himself, "And my good old-fashioned lover boy."