Good Omens Oneshots for the Gays™

Ineffable Husbands (kidfic)

Crowley woke up in a sweat that night. Usually Aziraphale was there to calm the demon down, but the angel was out collecting a first edition Discourse on the Sciences and Arts. Aziraphale loved Rousseau with all his heart.

This fact didn't calm Crowley down quite as much as he would have liked.

He could have called Aziraphale. He knew the angel had a mobile (he was the one who made the purchase, after all). However, it was 3 a.m. and everyone besides Crowley was asleep. He didn't want to be a burden. Well, more than he normally was.

Crowley was still shaking. The nightmare didn't help his loneliness one bit. He buried himself in his blankets. Aziraphale picked them, he remembered. They were tartan, so he couldn't really ever forget. Not that he'd want to.

He had almost everything that Aziraphale owned with him except for the angel himself. Crowley ubruptly sat up, the sheets falling off of him. Something was wrong.

Four years ago, the demon would have miracled himself out of danger. Avoid every sign of trouble and, in a few hundred years, everyone would have forgotten whatever incident would have caused the attempted altercation.

Then Hope came along. Literally. The little girl that was brought into the world not unlike the Antichrist was; she was the light of Crowley and Aziraphale's life. Hope was a gift from Above, sent directly to the door of their cottage in South Downs. Aziraphale thanked the Lord for her every day. Crowley did as well, he was just less vocal about it.

When something isn't right at the house nowadays, Crowley can't and won't stay still. Jumping out of bed, he speeds down the hallway towards his daughter's room.

"Papa?"

Crowley heaved an unneeded sigh of relief at seeing Hope just outside her door, very much on her way to see him. The demon knelt down to her level and looked into her eyes. He marveled at God's work every time. She had outdone herself, giving Hope Aziraphale's eyes. Crowley was thankful for this as well; no child should have to bear the weight of having his eyes.

The small girl had her (tartan) blanket in her tiny hand. Crowley could see the glisten of tear marks down her face. He wiped them away with his thumbs, pressing a kiss to Hope's forehead. The feeling of alarm he had felt earlier had calmed substantially.

"Did you have a nightmare too, Papa?" Hope's quiet voice broke Crowley out of his reverie.

"Yeah," Crowley's voice shook as he recalled the dream. "Yeah, sweetie, I did."

Hope yawned. It was three in the morning after all.

"Come on," Crowley lifted Hope into his arms and carried her to her bed.

"Where's Daddy?" Hope asked, her blue eyes filling with tears.

"He's buying a new book, love," Crowley sighed. His angel seemed too far away. "He'll be back by the time you wake up."

This answer seemed to satisfy the child.

Then again, it also could have just been the fatigue setting in. Hope yawned again as Crowley gently lowered her into her bed. Hope reached for his arms as he tried to pull away and latched onto him.

"C-can you stay, Papa?"

Crowley looked down at his daughter and a faint smile drew itself across his face. "'Course love."

Getting his long limbs into Hope's smaller one was a small struggle, but Crowley managed. He could stand to be squished for a few hours, he reasoned. Hope wrapped her small body around him, resting her head on his chest. Crowley placed a gentle kiss on the girl's fiery red hair and with matching snores, the two fell asleep.