One-Shots - Good Omens | Ineffable Husbands

Winter

I'm sorry if I like, ripped your heart out with the last chapter. Enjoy some fluff. 

TW: None

Aziraphale and Crowley had just enjoyed a lovely dinner at The Ritz. Yes, they do eat there a lot but, after all, it is their favourite restaurant. Tonight after dinner, Aziraphale insisted they take a walk through the park.

"It's lovely outside!" He exclaimed.

"Angel, it's like, 10 pm and it's the middle of winter," Crowley protested.

"Please, Crowley! Just for a little bit," Aziraphale said.

He had flashed Crowley a pair of big 'ole puppy dog eyes and before either of them knew what was happening Crowley had agreed and now found himself walking alongside Aziraphale in the park on a cold winter night.

The park was empty aside from a few other people, most of which appeared to be couples. Crowley rolled his eyes and hugged his arms close to his chest.

Aziraphale let out an overexaggerated sigh. "I love winter! It's so... refreshing."

"Refreshing?" Crowley sneered.

"Mhm! The air gets all cold and everything dies just so it can come back to life again in the spring. Plus, cold temperatures mean hot chocolate and fireplaces and all that cozy stuff," Aziraphale beamed.

Crowley and Aziraphale had come to Berkeley Square on multiple occasions so they both knew the park inside and out. This didn't stop Aziraphale from strolling up and down the paths for what seemed like forever.

The cold had long penetrated through Crowley's jacket. It ate at his skin like a hungry monster, slowly getting closer to swallowing him whole. His body ached and shivered as the frigid temperature turned his veins to ice.

Aziraphale stopped walking and turned to face Crowley. "Are you cold?"

Crowley shook his head, not wanting to put an end to Aziraphale's enjoyment of taking a stroll.

Aziraphale's face softened. "Crowley! You are, aren't you? You should have said something!"

"Angel, I'm not cold. If you want to keep walking, we can keep walking," Crowley's words came out shaky as his teeth chattered.

Aziraphale began to take off his coat. "Come along, we can head back to the bookshop."

He wrapped the long jacket around Crowley and while the demon wanted to protest, the slight warmth he got from it said otherwise.

"I'm fine," He said, lying. Crowley was never one to accept help easily.

"Your blue lips say otherwise. We're going home," Aziraphale grabbed Crowley by the wrist and began to drag him towards the road so that they could hail a taxi.

Crowley couldn't help but cave in. He needed to get some warmth flowing through his body at some point and it seemed as if they had been walking around for eons. Of course, he wasn't going to let Aziraphale know this, so he dragged his feet along the ground and whined about being forced to leave.

"If I could just have a word with whoever thought it was a good idea to make demons cold-blooded..." Aziraphale jabbed as he shouted for a taxi.

"That would probably have been The Almighty," Crowley said, somehow managing to crack a joke despite the fact that his numb body was shaking like an earthquake.

Aziraphale rolled his eyes as a black taxi pulled up alongside them. He popped open the back and pulled Crowley inside. They explained to the driver where they were going and soon enough they were on their way.

"We aren't all cold-blooded, you know," Crowley continued. "Only like... a quarter of us. Like all of the ones that have connections to reptiles."

"Yes, well, you're about as cold-blooded as they get, dear. You were literally a serpent," Aziraphale hissed back.

It didn't take all too long for the cab to roll up next to Aziraphale's bookshop. They paid the driver and wished her a goodnight before stepping out into the cold air once more.

Aziraphale unlocked the door with the flick of a hand and hurried Crowley inside.

"Angel, settle down. I'm not going to die or anything," Crowley said.

"Oh, quit your griping and sit down," Aziraphale directed Crowley to a couch that might not have been there before.

It was also placed in front of a fireplace that definitely had not been there before. It must be some kind of hazard having a fireplace among old books, yet on this one particular night, Aziraphale must not have cared. Or maybe he did but he already calculated the risk and realized that the care of his friend was worth more than the tiny chance of setting the store aflame. Crowley hoped it was the latter.

Nonetheless, Crowley relaxed onto the plush couch, which, despite having just been miracled into existence, felt just as worn out and old as the other sofas that littered the bookshop. The fireplace seemed to have lit on its own, but Crowley knew that was just Aziraphale performing "frivolous miracles" (as deemed by Heaven).

Aziraphale walked by and tossed a blanket over top of Crowley.

"I told you, I'm fine," Crowley said, yet he didn't quite have the courage to take the blanket off.

"Do you want some hot chocolate, dear? I'm going to make some," Aziraphale said, completely ignoring Crowley's protest.

Crowley reluctantly agreed.

Despite the fact that he was not only wearing his own jacket, but Aziraphale's as well and had a blanket tossed over his legs, Crowley found himself cold. He wasn't as cold as before, thankfully. He didn't feel as if his blood was made of ice, but he couldn't help but shiver. It took a while for Crowley to recover from being cold and he found it rather annoying. He also was jealous on rare occasions. How could some people just walk outside wearing a jacket and be fine? No matter how many layers Crowley wore he still managed to feel cold. He realized it was a stupid thing to be jealous of and turned his attention elsewhere. He watched the flames dance around the logs in the fireplace, the crackling of wood resonating through the air.

It didn't take too long for Aziraphale to come join Crowley on the couch. He placed two steaming mugs onto the table in front of them before picking up a book and sitting rather close to Crowley.

"Feeling any better?" Aziraphale asked, taking a sip from his mug.

Crowley shrugged. "Yeah."

Aziraphale smiled warmly and wrapped one of his arms around Crowley, who had begun to lean on him. Aziraphale cracked open his book to where he had left off at last.

Crowley curled up next to Aziraphale, enjoying the warmth that the angel provided. Of course, that primarily referred to body warmth, but being near Aziraphale made Crowley feel all warm and fuzzy inside as well.

"Angel?" Crowley asked, pulling the blanket around him tighter.

"Hmm?"

"Do you think you could out loud?" Crowley asked, eyeing the page of whatever Aziraphale had picked up.

"Of course, dear."

And so Aziraphale did just that. He read and read and read and shockingly, Crowley listened. He didn't necessarily listen to the story, but he listened to Aziraphale's voice. He absorbed every word he said, even if he didn't absorb their meaning. He just liked to hear Aziraphale talk. Sure, Crowley listened to Aziraphale talk all the time about things like sushi and the weather and a rude customer that had stopped by that day. Except this was a different kind of talking. Crowley wasn't even really sure if this was talking. Aziraphale spoke calmly, the words spilling out slowly- but not too slow. He read as if he wasn't reading to just get to the ending, but instead reading the words in front of him.

So, after a long day of dining out and cold weather who could really blame Crowley for falling asleep to the sound of Aziraphale's relaxing voice? 

- 1283 Words - 

This was just something I threw together fairly quickly, but I hope you enjoyed it anyways lol.