In my heart, Crowley and Aziraphale are sitting in that lovely yet slightly jaded bench in St. James's Park.
Crowley is marveling at the sight before him, a mother duck carefully guding her ducklings whom are following close behind. The mother puts herself infront of her children, but she cannot help constantly looking back at her own creations. They are flowing aimlessly in the vast body of water. One with nature. Basking in what it really means to just live.
Aziraphale on the other hand, has his eyes trained on another wonder of the world.
A young girl sits on a nearby bench, though she carries herself as if life has placed burdens upon her far heavier than her years should allow. There's another girl next to her, it's a friend, prehaps? She wraps her arms around the troubled one and holds her close, offering the comfort of her presence while the other feels whatever she needs to feel.
The wind blows softly, stirring loose strands of hair and carrying with it the distant sounds of laughter, birdsong, and the gentle lapping of water against the shore. Neither girl seems to notice. For this brief moment, the rest of the world has faded into the background.
Aziraphale sighs softly, "Extraordinary, isn't it?"
Crowley follows his gaze, his sunglasses reflecting the image of the two girls sitting together.
"Yeah," he says quietly, a softness creeping into his voice. "Funny thing is, they probably don't even realize they're doing it."
Crowley looks back toward the lake, where the mother duck nudges a wandering duckling back toward the group, "Saving each other."
The angel smiles softly at that, scotting closer to Crowley.
"Well, it's a beautiful sight to see indeed," he let's out a breath he has been holding for far too long, "but it wouldn't be as beautiful without you by my side."
Crowley sits with those words quietly. He slowly puts an arm around the angel.
"I mean, ducks are nice and all. Tiny feathery weirdos." He gestures vaguely toward the lake, "But I've seen ducks before."
Aziraphale looks at him, utterly perplexed.
"My dear, what on Earth are you talking about?"
"No, really, you've lost me."
Crowley shakes his head fondly before looking back out at the lake.
"I've seen sunsets. Meteor showers. Nebulas. Mountains. Oceans." He glances at him, "The thing that makes them worth remembering is having someone to turn to afterward."
Aziraphale's breath catches.
Crowley shrugs, as though he hasn't just said something monumental.
"And I have to say..." A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, "If there's one thing I could spend an eternity marveling at, it's you."
Aziraphale is stunned to silence. Not an uncomforble one, the opposite actually. The kind of silence that is at art galleries, where people gaze at something beautiful and find that words would only diminish it.
Crowley shifts slightly under the angel's gaze.
Aziraphale's smile is small and impossibly fond.
"How am I looking at you?"
Crowley opens his mouth, then closes it again. Because he doesn't have a name for it.
Above them, the branches sway gently in the afternoon light. Around them, life continues in all its strange, fragile beauty.
A child happily screams somewhere in the distance, the sound carrying across the park as they race through the grass.
The girl who had been crying earlier is no longer hiding behind her hands. She sits a little straighter now, a small smile breaking through as her friend says something that sends them both into laughter. Whatever burden she had been carrying has not vanished, but for the moment, she does not carry it alone.
The ducklings continue to swim along. The breeze carries the scent of grass and warm earth.
It's all terribly ordinary, really. And yet, these were the very things Aziraphale and Crowley had spent six thousand years fighting for.
Aziraphale leans into Crowley, his face only inches away.
"I love you so," he breathes. Then, he closes the distance between them.
The kiss is soft, tender.
Crowley smiles against it, one hand coming up to cup Aziraphale's cheek. He leans in without hesitation, knowing exactly where he belongs.
The world continues to turn around them. You can hear faint noise in the background. Laughs shared. The rustling of leaves. Somewhere nearby, a dog barks, and a child answers with a delighted squeal.
Then, without warning, a raindrop lands on Crowley's nose.
A second follows, splashing against Aziraphale's coat.
Within seconds, rain begins to pour over the park, sending people running for cover and prompting a chorus of surprised laughter from every direction.
The girls on the bench scramble to gather their things, one of them grabbing the other's hand as they attempt to dash toward the nearest shelter.
The ducklings, meanwhile, seem entirely unbothered by the development.
Crowley looks up at the sky.
The rain answers by becoming even heavier.
Beside him, Aziraphale laughs.
"Well," he says, beaming, "I suppose that's one way to cool off a warm afternoon."
Crowley shakes his head, utterly helpless against his own fondness.
"I think this is a sign to head back to our bookshop. Warm up with some hot cocoa before dining at the Ritz?"
Aziraphale's eyes brighten at the sound of that.
Before answering, his gaze drifts across the park.
The two girls from earlier are huddled together beneath a tree, trying and failing to shield themselves from the rain. They're laughing now, but neither seems particularly successful at staying dry.
With a subtle flick of his fingers, Aziraphale performs a small miracle.
A large umbrella suddenly appears over their heads.
The girls blink in surprise.
One looks up at the umbrella.
The other looks around in confusion.
Then, deciding not to question their good fortune, they scoot closer together beneath it and continue talking.
Aziraphale watches them for a moment, satisfied.
Only then does he turn back to Crowley.
"That sounds lovely," he says warmly. "Though I think perhaps a pot of cocoa. One mug hardly seems sufficient."
"And perhaps a few pastries?"
The rain continues to fall around them, drumming softly against the lake. the water nurturing the trees around them.
Crowley rises from the bench and offers his hand, "Come on, angel."
Aziraphale takes it without hesitation.
Together, they start toward the bookshop, leaving behind the ducks, the lake, and the rain-soaked park.
Behind them, the girls sit beneath their mysterious umbrella, laughing.
Ahead of them waits a warm bookshop, hot cocoa, and a dinner neither of them will ever admit they had been planning all along.
The afternoon had been beautiful. The evening promised to be even better. And tomorrow would be just as lovely.
The sort of days that, when strung together, become a life.
As they disappeared down the rain-slicked street, hand in hand, neither Heaven nor Hell watched from above, no prophecies awaited them.
Just tomorrow. And the world. The same world they had chosen, time and time again.
A world of shifting weather, of second chances. A world where ducklings finding their way home. A world were people hold each other when life became too heavy to bear alone. A world where tears give way to laughter, where old wounds heal slowly, and where kindness survives despite everything.
The Aziraphale and Crowley I know would've never given up on humanity, or on the humanity that lives within them. Crowley would fight for Aziraphale the same way Aziraphale would fight for Crowley.
The answer to a broken world is not to abandon it, but to keep caring for it. That is the Aziraphale and Crowley I fell in love with, and the ones I will always carry with me.
To me, Good Omens is about finding the courage to build out a life your heart wants, even when the people in power and systems try to decide who you get to be.
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