"some ineffable fates need a little push..."
In which the adopted daughter of Heaven and Hell's representatives on Earth is the only one who can see the chemistry between them.
GOOD OMENS
SERIES ONE - ???
اوووه! هذه الصورة لا تتبع إرشادات المحتوى الخاصة بنا. لمتابعة النشر، يرجى إزالتها أو تحميل صورة أخرى.
***
When it came to clandestine meetings, St. James' Park was the place to go. Secret agents would speak in hushed tones, holding the latest editions of The Times or The Daily Mail. In the case of one angel and one demon, this was one of their favourite spots to meet.
On this day, however, they were not too thrilled by the future's prospects. Maren knew there was something up with them, but she was too happy seeing her fathers together to care. She ran into Aziraphale's arms with a wide grin. "Daddy!"
"Hello, little one." Aziraphale received a visitation from the Supreme Archangel Gabriel the night before, and the news was earth-shattering indeed. With this newfound fear of the end, he held onto his daughter for dear life. "Did you have a good day with Crowley yesterday?"
"We took down the phone network!" she exclaimed.
"Oh," he nodded with a tight smile, "lovely." As she hugged his legs, Aziraphale glowered at Crowley. "Really?"
"What? She's the one who was interested in my work." Besides, he couldn't help being a bad influence on people. It didn't take much willpower to turn a pure heart evil, nowadays -- humans learnt to do that themselves.
Aziraphale pressed his lips into a thin line as he petted Maren's unbrushed hair. "I suppose you let her sit in the front seat, too."
Crowley shrugged, slipping his hands into his trouser pockets. "She was perfectly fine."
"You know she's not old enough to sit there."
"Well, she survived, didn't she?"
Maren tilted her head back, smiling up at Aziraphale. "Daddy almost crashed into a truck."
The angel shot him an immediate glare, and though Aziraphale wasn't the type to fight back, Crowley felt a little intimidated by his stern expression. He rubbed the back of his neck, stammering. "Er, it came out of nowhere, really."
Aziraphale rolled his eyes before crouching to the ground and addressing his daughter. "Maren, your father and I need to have a little chat."
Her enthusiastic tone softened. "About what?"
"Oh, boring stuff, you know." But her dads were never boring; it was impossible for them to even try. In recent years, Maren had learned to appreciate their strange tales and adventures across time. They were older than the Earth itself, and that intrigued her. "Why don't you feed the ducks, dear?"
Her father reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a plastic bag full of peas. He opened her palm, handing her the bag. Maren's forehead creased, bewildered by the strange gift. "Why no bread?"
It was a classic stereotype of modern human culture to feed ducks with bread, and she knew Aziraphale embraced those sorts of things. But to her surprise, he told her. "Because it's actually very bad for them."
