You Are So Loved! | Good Omens - Ineffable Husbands Fic

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Sitting now in an unsteady seat, his partner next to him, a heavy bar being lifted down to the front of them by some unenthusiastic worker, Aziraphale could see that this is what the day was leading up to. A wonderful, colorful, and peaceful ride to end the night with his best friend right by his side. He couldn't think of anything better. The stars, the lights, the cheers from joyous kids. Aziraphale was not used to being around so many people for as long as he had today, and though he couldn't say he loved it or that it was in his element, he could say that he felt love everywhere at this carnival today, and it was a very lovely thing to feel.

But as the ride started to rise, Crowley felt himself getting jittery. He couldn't understand or figure out what it was that was bothering him so much for the first few parts of the whole ordeal. Rising and then stopping, feeling just that much more nervous with each new turn of the giant wheel. Aziraphale held his hands firmly on the metal bar keeping them in place, looking around fondly at all the smiling faces below and at the few buildings in the distance; the angel oblivious to Crowley's anxiety rising in his chest the same way the ferris wheel rose.

That is, until, they get half way up, and Aziraphale turns to his friend to ask him a question about the city in the distance. This is when he notices the state of his best friend: his knuckles white as they grip the bar, his back straight, his face lacking color, his legs as stiff as anything "Crowley! My dear, what's wrong?" He asks him.

"I-" Crowley starts to explain. It's then that the fallen one understands where his fear was coming from. "I didn't think about how high up we would be," he says. "And for this long..."

It clicks in Aziraphale's head quick enough: Crowley is afraid of heights. Aziraphale almost wants to laugh. Not because of Crowley's reaction, but because of the irony. He almost says to his friend 'You have wings!' But doesn't, because he knows the joke would be nothing short of cruel. Of course he knows that if either of them were to actually fall, they would not be able to use their wings in front of the humans, but it was still humorous. Well, it was to Aziraphale, until Crowley spoke again.

As if reading the angel's mind, Crowley responds to the slight smirk, that Aziraphale thought no one could see, by saying "I've fallen before, you know?" He knows the angel isn't laughing at him or his fear, but felt the need to clear it up anyway. From Heaven he thinks.

With this, Aziraphale's smirk fades, the joke in his head disappears, and suddenly he is looking at his companion with the most sympathetic eyes. "Darling," he begins, "Don't be afraid." He nudges one of Crowley's hands from the bar and into his own, squeezing it tightly.

They continue to inch upwards and Aziraphale tries to find ways to comfort the demon. It started with hands, but then he scooted closer. And closer. Eventually, he gave the demon the advice of closing his eyes.

Once they reached the top, a breeze swept in and started to ever so slightly rock their seat, but despite the movement being so small, this clearly was enough for Crowley to break. "Angel!" He shouted, reaching with his other hand blindly. "I'm falling again!"

Aziraphale responds immediately, and quickly switches the hand he was using to hold his partner's so he could use his other arm to wrap tightly around his friend, instead. "You're safe with me," He assures him. He guides his partner's head to rest upon his shoulder, hugging him tightly. "You're safe with me," he says once more.

"My dear," he whispers into Crowley's ear. "Relax." He gently removes the demon's glasses, and encourages him to tilt his head up. "Do me a favor, please. Would you look at the sky with me?"

Crowley can barely open his eyes, still mostly paralyzed in his fear. Yet, he manages it somehow, and with his head on the shoulder of an angel, the two comforting arms of his partner placed firmly around his thin frame, and his eyes pointed at the sky, he does relax. The tension hurting his body is released, except for in his fingers, where he still holds tightly onto Aziraphale's body.

The demon's eyes first trace over the curve of the moon, but soon find themselves scanning over the familiar pattern of the constellations. Finally he speaks again. "I made some of those," he whispers back to his angel.

And suddenly, Aziraphale realizes why it's so easy to let himself look at Crowley like he hung the stars. It's because he did.