Another GO headcanon/speculation to warm your heart this January
Since the announcement of Series 3 for our beloved Good Omens, the gears in this ol' brain have been turning. Because here's the deal: I love the idea that Aziraphale will have to give us a top-tier performance of the Apology dance, but I also like the idea that Crowley will request a favor he can call in at any time just for funsies. Aziraphale is inherently a little weary of this notion, but he ultimately agrees because, in the end, he loves Crowley and wants to show him that he is willing to do anything for him. And for a while, things just go back to normal. They handle the apocalypse, again, get their cottage in the South Downs, etc. Our ineffable husbands go about their days bickering and enjoying domestic bliss, and Aziraphale almost forgets about the favor his beloved demon has yet to call in. That is until they're back in the bookshop because, let's face it, Aziraphale won't be able to stay away from it for long, and Crowley is lounging on the couch while Aziraphale works (they sent Muriel to go hang out with Nina and Maggie). And like he's done in the past, Crowley decides it's about high time for a nap and decides it's time to call in that favor, resulting in something like;
"Angle," Crowley calls, tipping his head back to glance at the angel, where he's perched in his large, worn chair by his desk, looking over one of his newest bible misprints.
Aziraphale slides his reading glasses off of his nose and into the breast pocket of his button with an affectionate sigh, "Yes, my dear?"
"Crowley, I'm working," the protest is half-hearted at best, and Crowley's mouths twitch up into a small smirk as Aziraphale carefully closes the book before twisting in his chair to look at the demon.
"Oi, none of that. You promised me a favor, angel, and I'm calling it in."
Aziraphale smiled fondly before rolling his eyes, and Crowley could swear he felt his heart melt a little.
I only ever want to see him smile like that, Crowley thought absently.
"Out of everything in the world- the universe, that an angel could offer you, you're using it for a cuddle?"
"Not JUST a cuddle, angel, I want a nap too." Crowley smiled, tipping his head back to summon Aziraphale closer.
"And you want me to hold you while you nap, I suppose?"
Crowley hummed in the affirmative, "Mmhmm, and I want you to read to me."
"Anything in particular, my love?"
"'Gimme something of Jane's, I wanna see if she can write as good as she can heist."
"How about a nice romance? Something to pair with your Richard Curtis pictures," Aziraphale stands before soothing out his trousers and beginning to search for where Muriel placed his Austen novels in their small reorganizing spree they took while he and Crowley were away getting settled in their cottage.
"No one calls them pictures anymore, Aziraphale, call 'em a movie for Gods-for Satan's- for somebody's sake," Crowley grumbled.
"Very well, is that a yes or a no for the romance?" Aziraphale asked as he located his newfound Austen section, his fingers grazing over the spine of his well-loved copy of Pride and Prejudice and Sense and Sensibility before pulling both off the shelf.
"Sure, a romance, sounds lovely. Just grab one and get over here, 'm cold."
"Dearest, you're always cold."
"'M a serpent, angel, I have no temperature control!" Crowley groused, wiggling down onto the sofa to make room for the angel. He levels a small glare at the edge of the narrow sofa before nodding in approval when it expands under his harsh gaze. "It's the middle of winter, 's why I keep a nice warm angel around."
Aziraphale felt his face flush, an odd aspect of the corporation that he'd never get used to. He strolled over to the now slightly larger couch before cupping Crowley's cheek, his heart stuttering when the demon nuzzled into the touch, "Would you like the heated blanket, love?"
Crowley nodded before Aziraphale grabbed it from the end of the couch. He didn't move to plug it in; he just hit the remote, and the blanket spurred into action. The angel then wiggled next to his demon, bringing the tartan blanket, much to Crowley's chagrin, up around the two of them. Crowley is quick to nuzzle his way into the angel's grasp, resting his head on the plush planes of his chest.
"Comfortable?" Aziraphale asks, one arm coming up to wrap around Crowley's shoulders before opening his older editions of Pride and Prejudice. Crowley hums, smiling softly when he feels a soft kiss pressed into his hairline. "Very well, my dear."
Listen, I'm just a sucker for Aziraphale reading to Crowley as he naps (but so is half of the entire fandom, and Crowley, hence this post). Is this a way for me to write it? A little. It's just so soft and domestic, and I really want to see it in series 3. I understand that the ineffable husband's romance won't be the main storyline in s3, but I am frothing at the mouth for some domestic, fluffy, moments between the two of them before we have to say goodbye for good.
