Good Omens It-preg!

For lovelyzelda's last line meme. She was pondering on the likelihood of certain Beings getting pregnant through shaking hands. Well, who amongst us here can honestly say they haven't pondered the same question?

Fandom: Good Omens
Handshakers: Crowley/Aziraphale
Rating: scary

***

"Impossible!" Aziraphale gasped, unconsciously wiping his hand on the front of his coat as he stared at Crowley.

"Not really," Crowley said, looking grim.

"A joke then?" Aziraphale plucked the rolled parchment from him, being very careful not to brush fingers.

"Uphir doesn't think so. He's six months gone."

Aziraphale looked up, eyes wide. "Really? Who's the... the other parent?"

Crowley snorted. "Zepar. He says they only shook hands for a second, at a departmental planning meeting."

There was a pregnant silence as Aziraphale scanned Hell's new directive discouraging employee fraternisation.

Crowley shuffled and stuck his hands deep in his pockets, seeming to find the view from the shop window one of intense interest. Aziraphale tapped a finger rapidly on the table, as if thinking.

"You shook my hand last week," he said, in measured tones. "But you didn't know about this then, did you?" He sounded very reasonable.

Crowley scratched an eyebrow. "Well, you see... "

Aziraphale shot up, making Crowley jump. "You knew!"

Backing away seemed a good idea. So did speaking very quickly: "Look, it was a mistake, honestly! Just give it nine months - you'll make a wonderful mother."

"I don't think you'll live that long, dear."

Two Weiss Kreuz drabbles

Two Weiss Kreuz drabbles, both for daegaer's last line meme.

***

He was six and could tell the weather. He made sure his mother knew when to take her umbrella out. She squeezed him painfully tight.

By ten they all knew he wasn't normal. His father didn't touch him.

He was fifteen and falling apart. He opened the door before his saviours could knock, his bag packed. He dreaded the jolt in his gut and blurting the wrong things-- not sunshine or rain but death, leering and bloody. His mother in the bath and everything red; Father with his gun, face wet. He left.

No one asked any probing questions at all.

****

The little boy with the bright copper hair stands in the garden, frowning. He presses the button on the cheap camera and it makes a dull click.

They shimmer above like spirits, stretching to an infinity he can see if he shuts his eyes. They aren't dangerous yet and he wants to take a nice picture so Mummy can't pretend he's lying. She is inside, crying on the phone to Uncle Ran. He knows this, just as he knows that he will never once see his father.

Angels dart away from the camera, and the sky is blue and endless.

(note: cygny wrote about about Aya-chan being pregnant by Schuldig)