strange capers

ahhhh, honestly, idek?! i didn't hate the go3 finale, but i also didn't love it... to me, it felt so slapdash, more like a series of moments strung together than a coherent storyline, with some shining jewels among those moments, but mostly ... not. i guess?

i was in go book fandom for 10+ years before the tv series came out, so for me this just feels like another interpretation that i overall enjoyed, but that ended much, much differently than i would have liked. i'm more disappointed than anything else, as i thought s1 was a great interpretation of the book, and while i was skeptical about s1 existing at all, i just adored it once i watched it.

aziraphale is one of my all time favorite fictional characters, so... ahh, idk. i think most people like crowley best, and i'm still pondering how that affects my reaction to s3.

“After all those days of chilly drizzle.” Aziraphale rests his hand at the small of Crowley’s back, the touch light and brief, and Crowley feels something like sunlight flash through him. 

That sensation is light and brief, too, and he knows he’ll say yes to sitting in the park until sunset, and then dinner, and then–

He pauses mid-thought, first because letting that thought remain unfinished has a deliciousness to it, and second because he can feel the faint prickle behind his eyes that tells him they want to itch and water. 

Springtime in England takes forever to arrive some years, but when it does, it does with such vengeance. Sun and rain most days, and the pollen. If he focuses his vision just right, Crowley can see how it crowds the air, and how the powdery scent diffuses through it. 

Crowley squeezes his eyes shut to quell the itch, then shakes his head when Aziraphale makes a noise at him that’s somehow both curious and worried already. His eyes go soft when Crowley shakes his head again, then sniffles, and Aziraphale looks ready to melt into more gentle touches and sunshine-warm moments. 

“We could go back to the bookshop. Oh, I do have a few fine bottles we haven’t even thought about opening.” Aziraphale touches Crowley’s elbow at another sniffle. 

“You spend enough t-time–” Crowley pauses, breathy and uncertain, and this time when he squeezes his eyes shut, he angles away from Aziraphale. “uhhh.. hXTch!” 

“Oh… already?” Aziraphale says, as if he hasn’t seen this coming for the past hour or so. 

Crowley casts him a sidelong glance in reply, not able to say anything with the itch now crowding behind his eyes and sinuses. He’s going to sneeze again and it’s taking all his willpower to not cascade into a dozen at a time. 

“hh–GXtchh!” He does let himself sneeze once more, then shudders a little at how very much the tree pollen itches. Not just his sinuses and his eyes, but for a moment, his whole head seems to ring with the desperate urge to sneeze and sneeze. 

“There, dear,” Aziraphale murmurs and touches Crowley’s elbow again, guiding him to sit down. He hesitates a moment before sitting himself and rests his hand on Crowley’s leg. 

Something inside Crowley shifts, something well-worn and older than days and decades, and he can’t help but sigh a little. He rubs at his nose once, and then again, more firmly, and is about to rub his eyes when he snaps aside. 

“uhhEISHH’hh! huhhESH’oo!” The sneezes tumble out and Crowley blinks away the itch and tears from his eyes, almost surprised by how good that felt. 

Aziraphale's hand tightens on Crowley’s leg and Crowley just leans right into him. He’ll be a mess all evening, if he lets himself, and now he suspects that he will. 

“I don’t know how you still manage to fuss,” Crowley says.