penknife (penknife) wrote in hp_crossovers,

FIC: Killing Time, Good Omens/HP, Sirius/Crowley, PG-13

Title: Killing Time
Author: penknife
Fandoms: Good Omens/Harry Potter
Pairing: Sirius/Crowley
Rating: PG-13

Killing Time

Sirius rolled over onto his back beside Crowley, looking satiated and only a little guilty. Crowley snapped his fingers to dispose of the mess and lit a cigarette, taking a slow drag and blowing smoke toward the ceiling. He passed it to Sirius, who took it, inhaled deeply, and had an immediate coughing fit. Crowley rolled his eyes.

At least he'd gotten a good evening's work out of having been stood up for dinner. Crowley had provided an object lesson in why Sirius settling down with his apparently responsible and devoted lover was a bad idea, and sowed the seeds of a truly memorable row between the two of them when Sirius dragged home smelling like he'd taken a bath in gin. Not to mention relieving a bit of frustration.

"I'm going to be in a hell of a lot of trouble," Sirius said.

"Has he got you on a leash, or what?" Crowley asked. He reached for the sunglasses on the night table and put them back on. Sirius just thought the eyes were an interesting affectation, something like having your ear pierced, but Crowley was used to the sunglasses. He gave Sirius a pointed look over the top of them.

Sirius snorted. "There are some drawbacks to living with a werewolf."

"To--what!" Crowley sputtered. "I should think so. Getting killed and eaten, that's a drawback."

"He'd never," Sirius said. "I trust him."

Crowley couldn't let such an easy opening pass by. "Do you? Really?"

"Of course I do," Sirius said, in the tone of a man who's trying to convince himself. Crowley smiled, just the faintest bit. "It's not as though he has to account to me for where he spends his time."

"Of course not," Crowley said. "Any more than you do, right?" He smiled brightly. "I'm sure there's nothing to worry about."

"That's right," Sirius said, visibly worrying. Crowley considered that a job well done. He'd done his tempting for the day and made it less likely that Sirius would wind up a werewolf's dinner. The man would obviously get on one's nerves fast, but Crowley didn't dislike him that much.

There was a knock on the front door of the flat. A very familiar knock.

Crowley sat up fast, tugging on Sirius's arm. "It was fun, don't call me, I'll call you, now get out."

Sirius got up and started dressing, although not as fast as Crowley would have liked. "I see. You've got a boyfriend. Or is it wife?"

"Boyfriend," Crowley lied, and then at the flicker of guilt in Sirius's eyes, "neither, really. There, you'll do." He concentrated, and sent Sirius back to his own flat, where Crowley thought his half-buttoned shirt and missing socks might provoke quite a stir.

Crowley mentally brushed himself off and hurried to the front door. He jerked it open in irritated relief.

"You're late," he said. "Where've you been?"

"Busy," Aziraphale said. He looked tired. "Trying to talk a very misguided young man out of doing something he'll regret. With, I must say, limited success."

"Too bad," Crowley said with very fake sympathy. "Come on, we can still make a late dinner seating. You get to miracle us reservations, since you stood me up."

"Crowley, where is Sirius Black?"

"Well, what was I going to do, stand around in the bar all night waiting--hey, how did you know what he's called?"

"I need to talk to him," Aziraphale said. "I've got to warn him he's in danger of being betrayed by someone he trusts."

"Oh, that," Crowley said. "I've taken care of that already." He grinned. "And for that, you're paying, too."

"Well, that's a relief," Aziraphale said. "Still, I should go and make sure--" Crowley glanced at his watch pointedly. "But I don't suppose having dinner first would do any harm."

Crowley smiled.
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