Sara (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
scripted_sra) wrote2009-03-04 03:26 am
scripted_sra) wrote2009-03-04 03:26 am
Entry tags:
M*A*S*H/Good Omens | Strongly Encouraged | PG | Crowley/Aziraphale
Title: Strongly Encouraged
Fandom: M*A*S*H/Good Omens
Rating: PG
Pairing: Implied Crowley/Aziraphale.
Summary: General Crowley visits the 4077th in order to deliver a message.
Word Count: 887
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use.
A/N: Thanks for the beta, Abigail.
“Really, my dear! It’s part of my job!” Aziraphale had exclaimed when Crowley had insisted he go by himself. The angel just didn’t understand the attitude of the 1950s, especially when it came to Americans, and even more especially when it came to Americans in the military. He’d eventually convinced him, though, which he almost regretted, as he was now driving through Korea, alone, on his way to a MASH station. The angel's company would've been nice, not that he'd ever tell him that.
He arrived at his destination fairly quickly, and heard “General Crowley!” in an obsequious-sounding voice the moment he stepped out of the jeep. He looked up to see a chinless man saluting him, and he was reminded almost immediately of a weasel(1). There was another man approaching, tall and dark-haired.
“That’s me,” he said, not bothering to return the salute.
“General,” said the other man, in a falsely-gracious voice. “Frank, stop saluting before you strain something.”
“Pierce!” the man named Frank muttered. “This is a general. Show the proper respect!”
Amused, Crowley said, “Let’s pretend we did all that. I need to find someone. Tall, red hair, goes by the name Scarlett?”
The man named Pierce was grinning now. “Nurse Able?”
Crowley tried not to laugh at the idea of Red disguising herself as a nurse. “That must be her. Do you know where she is?”
“Sure. Follow me,” Pierce said. “I’m Hawkeye, by the way.”
“Crowley,” he replied easily as they walked away. Frank just gaped after them.
*
“She went to the showers a little while ago,” said a nurse, when they reached the nurses’ tent. "Should be back soon."
Crowley nodded. “I can talk to her later. I’m a little thirsty right now, though. Anything to drink around here?”
“Only the finest rotgut this side of Korea,” Hawkeye replied. “Come on.”
They passed the nurses’ shower on the way, and Crowley fought back a smirk as two men suddenly started fighting. Hawkeye and a few others nearby went to pull them apart, and when he walked back over to Crowley he said, “Klinger and Zale again,” and shook his head. “They’re always going at it.”
I’m sure they are, Crowley thought, especially with Red around.
“The drinks are this way. Welcome to the Swamp,” Hawkeye said, pushing open the appropriately labeled tent flap and heading inside. Crowley followed and was handed a martini glass filled with gin(2).
“Thought you said this was rotgut,” he replied after taking a drink.
Hawkeye looked impressed before taking a sip as well. “It usually is,” he said slowly, looking at the still, bewildered. Crowley just smirked to himself, taking another drink. “So what brings you to our humble MASH, General? Surely not to meet a malcontent draftee(3) doctor and drink his gin that has miraculously turned into wine. Was it just to meet Nurse Able?”
Crowley tried not to make a face at ‘miraculously’. Humans, always mixing up divine and demonic influences. “We have some business to discuss. I’m here in place of my . . . associate.”
Hawkeye grinned. “Business?”
They were interrupted by Frank storming in, looking peeved. When he saw Crowley, the expression changed to gobsmacked. “I wouldn’t spend time around this degenerate if I were you, General. He’ll corrupt you!”
“I find that unlikely,” Crowley said. He had, after all, written the book on corruption(4).
Frank muttered something to himself, then added, “One of the nurses mentioned Nurse Able was out of the shower. Why do you want to talk to a nurse, anyway?”
“They didn’t cover that chapter in health class, Frank?” Hawkeye asked.
“Disgusting!” Frank exclaimed. “Don’t listen to him, General!”
“Right,” Crowley said, wondering if Frank was one of theirs or just incredibly annoying in his own right. He supposed he could find out later. “If you’ll both excuse me...” At Hawkeye’s nod, he left the tent, heading back toward the nurses’ and catching sight of a familiar red-head.
“Hey, Red, we need to talk,” he said, falling into step beside her.
She raised an eyebrow. “What about?”
“Up There strongly encourages you to lay low pretty soon, maybe in a year or so,” he told her.
She made a face(5). “Fine. But since when do you deliver messages from Up There?” she asked, looking at him steadily.
Crowley shrugged, trying to stay casual. “Just doing someone a favor. I was in the neighborhood.”
“That angel has you wrapped around his finger, doesn’t he?”
Crowley glared, which was still somehow apparent even though he was wearing his sunglasses. “You won’t have to lay low for long,” he said. “Check out Vietnam in a few years. My people have something in the works.”
War just smirked. “Nice cover,” she said.
“Right. Just make sure to listen to the encouragement,” Crowley muttered. “I’m leaving.”
“Gotta get home before supper or the angel will be upset, right?” she asked.
Right before he left, Crowley turned every weapon in a ten-mile radius into a toy just to spite her.
*
No one except War remembered the dark-haired general with incredibly good cheek bones the next day, though they all appreciated the lack of casualties they received for the following couple weeks.
And Hawkeye and BJ enjoyed the wine while it lasted.
(1) Or maybe a ferret.
(2) At least, that’s how it started out. The moment Crowley took a drink it turned into wine.
(3) The draft was one of his more ingenious accomplishments, if he said so himself—which he did. It was right up there with McCarthyism.
(4) Well, okay, not Crowley personally. But he worked for the people who’d written the book.
(5) Crowley had an idea about what she was thinking. The last time Up There had “strongly encouraged” someone to take a rest had been back in 1927, with Pestilence. When she disobeyed, penicillin had been discovered, thereby forcing her into an early retirement less than a decade later.
Fandom: M*A*S*H/Good Omens
Rating: PG
Pairing: Implied Crowley/Aziraphale.
Summary: General Crowley visits the 4077th in order to deliver a message.
Word Count: 887
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use.
A/N: Thanks for the beta, Abigail.
“Really, my dear! It’s part of my job!” Aziraphale had exclaimed when Crowley had insisted he go by himself. The angel just didn’t understand the attitude of the 1950s, especially when it came to Americans, and even more especially when it came to Americans in the military. He’d eventually convinced him, though, which he almost regretted, as he was now driving through Korea, alone, on his way to a MASH station. The angel's company would've been nice, not that he'd ever tell him that.
He arrived at his destination fairly quickly, and heard “General Crowley!” in an obsequious-sounding voice the moment he stepped out of the jeep. He looked up to see a chinless man saluting him, and he was reminded almost immediately of a weasel(1). There was another man approaching, tall and dark-haired.
“That’s me,” he said, not bothering to return the salute.
“General,” said the other man, in a falsely-gracious voice. “Frank, stop saluting before you strain something.”
“Pierce!” the man named Frank muttered. “This is a general. Show the proper respect!”
Amused, Crowley said, “Let’s pretend we did all that. I need to find someone. Tall, red hair, goes by the name Scarlett?”
The man named Pierce was grinning now. “Nurse Able?”
Crowley tried not to laugh at the idea of Red disguising herself as a nurse. “That must be her. Do you know where she is?”
“Sure. Follow me,” Pierce said. “I’m Hawkeye, by the way.”
“Crowley,” he replied easily as they walked away. Frank just gaped after them.
“She went to the showers a little while ago,” said a nurse, when they reached the nurses’ tent. "Should be back soon."
Crowley nodded. “I can talk to her later. I’m a little thirsty right now, though. Anything to drink around here?”
“Only the finest rotgut this side of Korea,” Hawkeye replied. “Come on.”
They passed the nurses’ shower on the way, and Crowley fought back a smirk as two men suddenly started fighting. Hawkeye and a few others nearby went to pull them apart, and when he walked back over to Crowley he said, “Klinger and Zale again,” and shook his head. “They’re always going at it.”
I’m sure they are, Crowley thought, especially with Red around.
“The drinks are this way. Welcome to the Swamp,” Hawkeye said, pushing open the appropriately labeled tent flap and heading inside. Crowley followed and was handed a martini glass filled with gin(2).
“Thought you said this was rotgut,” he replied after taking a drink.
Hawkeye looked impressed before taking a sip as well. “It usually is,” he said slowly, looking at the still, bewildered. Crowley just smirked to himself, taking another drink. “So what brings you to our humble MASH, General? Surely not to meet a malcontent draftee(3) doctor and drink his gin that has miraculously turned into wine. Was it just to meet Nurse Able?”
Crowley tried not to make a face at ‘miraculously’. Humans, always mixing up divine and demonic influences. “We have some business to discuss. I’m here in place of my . . . associate.”
Hawkeye grinned. “Business?”
They were interrupted by Frank storming in, looking peeved. When he saw Crowley, the expression changed to gobsmacked. “I wouldn’t spend time around this degenerate if I were you, General. He’ll corrupt you!”
“I find that unlikely,” Crowley said. He had, after all, written the book on corruption(4).
Frank muttered something to himself, then added, “One of the nurses mentioned Nurse Able was out of the shower. Why do you want to talk to a nurse, anyway?”
“They didn’t cover that chapter in health class, Frank?” Hawkeye asked.
“Disgusting!” Frank exclaimed. “Don’t listen to him, General!”
“Right,” Crowley said, wondering if Frank was one of theirs or just incredibly annoying in his own right. He supposed he could find out later. “If you’ll both excuse me...” At Hawkeye’s nod, he left the tent, heading back toward the nurses’ and catching sight of a familiar red-head.
“Hey, Red, we need to talk,” he said, falling into step beside her.
She raised an eyebrow. “What about?”
“Up There strongly encourages you to lay low pretty soon, maybe in a year or so,” he told her.
She made a face(5). “Fine. But since when do you deliver messages from Up There?” she asked, looking at him steadily.
Crowley shrugged, trying to stay casual. “Just doing someone a favor. I was in the neighborhood.”
“That angel has you wrapped around his finger, doesn’t he?”
Crowley glared, which was still somehow apparent even though he was wearing his sunglasses. “You won’t have to lay low for long,” he said. “Check out Vietnam in a few years. My people have something in the works.”
War just smirked. “Nice cover,” she said.
“Right. Just make sure to listen to the encouragement,” Crowley muttered. “I’m leaving.”
“Gotta get home before supper or the angel will be upset, right?” she asked.
Right before he left, Crowley turned every weapon in a ten-mile radius into a toy just to spite her.
No one except War remembered the dark-haired general with incredibly good cheek bones the next day, though they all appreciated the lack of casualties they received for the following couple weeks.
And Hawkeye and BJ enjoyed the wine while it lasted.
(1) Or maybe a ferret.
(2) At least, that’s how it started out. The moment Crowley took a drink it turned into wine.
(3) The draft was one of his more ingenious accomplishments, if he said so himself—which he did. It was right up there with McCarthyism.
(4) Well, okay, not Crowley personally. But he worked for the people who’d written the book.
(5) Crowley had an idea about what she was thinking. The last time Up There had “strongly encouraged” someone to take a rest had been back in 1927, with Pestilence. When she disobeyed, penicillin had been discovered, thereby forcing her into an early retirement less than a decade later.