Chapter Text
Now
Aziraphale is sitting on the floor with his back against a bookshelf. It digs uncomfortably into his spine but it’d take the bookshop burning for him to move from his current position.
He runs his long fingers through loose strands of red hair below him, where Crowley’s face is buried in his lap.
At a muffled groan giving away his consciousness, Aziraphale flicks one hand and the bookshop is shrouded in -almost- darkness. The blinds are closed up and the lights are dimmed for when tired yellow eyes pry open below him.
“Easy, darling. Just go slow,” Aziraphale whispers as Crowley pushes himself into a sitting position, breathing picking up.
“Ngk… T’s all good ‘ng’l…” he mumbles while rubbing his sore eyes.
“C’mere,” Aziraphale reaches for him and guides him to lean his back against his chest, wrapping strong arms around Crowley’s middle. Once seated in his lap, again, Aziraphale gives him a minute to wake up a little more before asking him, “are you feeling alright now?”
A second of thought before he answers with a small nod and a sigh, leaning his head back on the angel’s shoulder. “Where’s ev’ryone gone?”
“Closed up shop for the day. Think we’ll just take some time to rest and I can catch up on reading one of my new books…”
“And that couple? They okay?” he asks, a hint of nervousness tinged with shame.
“Dearest, I assure you there’s nothing to worry about, you did nothing wrong. They actually said to me their grandson is nonverbal and epileptic so it’s completely fine, please don’t stress over it…” A single tear slides down to his chin and he hugs Crowley to his chest a little tighter. He hates that he would feel any kind of shame at such a thing, but when you’ve had the time to think about it being a scary experience, well… he’s had a few thousand years to be told off for it. And to think what the forces of Heaven or Hell could do if they knew…
“Good. That’s good,” he sighs and stretches out his aching limbs with a small groan. “How about we migrate to the couch, yeah? Can’t be comfortable sitting on the floor this long”.
“Wonderful idea. It’s only been 15 or so minutes, but I’d much prefer some better cushioning as I’m sure you would too”. Slowly they help each other stand and walk over to the couch, Crowley holding Aziraphale’s arm for support like a lifeline.
Two steaming mugs appear on the coffee table in front of them. Both have little wings, one black and one white. Crowley reaches for the black one happily. “How long?” It’s a question he always asks, to relieve the anxiety of having just woken up from being unconscious for God knows how long, and knowing timing it is engrained into Aziraphale’s instinct at this point.
“Only three minutes, dear. Now, would you like to get some sleep or watch a film or what would you like to do?”
“Well I’m happy to just sit here with you”.
“Yes, well, as am I. But I mean what will keep you occupied”. His angel knows him too well; he wouldn’t be able to sit still without some kind of stimulation even if the world depended on it.
“A film sounds nice. Just put on whatever, really, I’ll probably drift off and nap eventually anyway”.
They land on The Good Place, his favourite show since The Golden Girls. After three hours of casual viewing, Crowley gets up to stretch his legs and get a glass of water. Aziraphale pays him no attention but looks up when he’s startled by a glass smashing.
“Crowley, is everything alright?” he calls, dropping his book and getting up off of the couch. There’s no immediate reply and he quickens his pace.
“Darling what’s wrong, talk to me?” He comes to stand beside Crowley and wraps an arm around his thin waist.
Crowley clutches the counter harder and replies through gritted teeth, “don’t know. Don’t like it though. Hurts. Feel strange”.
Aziraphale is about to help him back to the lounge when Crowley goes limp in his arms, eyes fluttering closed. “Mmph. Crowley? Crowley, can you open your eyes for me, please? Crowley?” He shakes him gently but he’s out cold so Aziraphale cradles him to his chest and swiftly lifts him with angelic strength to carry him up to their bed.
It’s not made but he doesn’t care as he kicks the blankets off the edge and cuddles up to his husband, brushing sweaty curls away from his forehead with one hand and shaking his shoulder with the other, to no avail. Sighing, he lies down beside him and stares at the ceiling, listening to soft breaths beside him.
He finally wakes a couple of minutes later, still complaining of feeling strange and a bit off. Soon enough Crowley sleeps restlessly beside him and they stay like that for a while. The sun is already setting, casting shades of orange and pink upon the walls. This is to be a long night, he thinks.
And it is. That night Aziraphale gets no sleep; not a blink.
He’s busy watching over Crowley as he wakes up almost hourly with splitting headaches that send him throwing up until he falls back to sleep again.
***~~~***~~~***
The next morning he’s no better.
They get up late, it’s nearing 10am when Crowley’s feeling well enough to even sit upright without needing to puke. They take their time making their way downstairs together, and Aziraphale gripping tight in fear he’ll lose his balance. Of course, he’s met with half-hearted protests and defeated grumbles.
This time Aziraphale ensures the lights are off completely, the only slivers of light coming from around the edges of the curtains. He knows they’ll both be able to see in the dark so he takes the opportunity to bring forth darkness to aid Crowley’s throbbing head.
“Is your migraine any better since you’ve gotten up?” He whispers once they’re seated comfortably on the couch, electing to leave the television off this time.
“Still hurts. Definitely not as much, though,” he murmurs in reply and leans his ear on Aziraphale’s shoulder. It’s less than 90 seconds before he’s snoring softly once again.
Aziraphale bites his bottom lip in concern. Heat is radiating off of the demon in waves, making him sweat as well. He drapes a cool, damp cloth around the back of Crowley’s neck and manoeuvres him to lie down on his side on the couch. He gets up and begins pacing and wringing his hands.
He decides on making a phone call to the only person he can think of that might be able to help him figure out what has happened to his poor demon. Something isn’t right and he is willing to bet something or someone has hurt Crowley.
Anathema picks up on the second ring.
“Hi, this is Ana,” she greets cheerfully.
“Yes, I know, dear. I’m afraid I am in rather need of assistance. It’s kind of urgent. Is there a chance you might be available to come by the bookshop today?”
She can sense his anxiety over the phone, it’s that strong. He’s truly failing at hiding it especially from her.
“I can be there in 20 minutes, is that alright, Aziraphale?”
“Wonderful. Thank you so much, my dear. We shall see you then”.
Three knocks at the door signal her arrival, no later and no earlier than 20 minutes after he ended the call.
“You are so reliable, you know,” he greets with a shaky smile as he swings open the door and gestures for her to enter.
“Aziraphale, what is that?” She turns to him, freezing in place.
“What’s what?”
“Tell me what’s happened. Something’s wrong, I know,” she turns back around to look around the bookshop, eyes landing on the sleeping figure on the couch now huddled under blankets.
“Ah, that’s what I was worried about… Crowley’s fallen unnaturally ill, you see. I’m really quite worried something has happened to him. That’s why I called you to my shop,” he explains as he follows Anathema to where Crowley is shivering and snoring softly on the couch.
She reaches a hand carefully towards his face and touches fingertips gently to his rosy cheek. Gasping, she draws back sharply and turns to Aziraphale. “You’re right- this isn’t good, not at all. You must be blocked from seeing it but I can see it so clearly, Aziraphale,” she breathes.
“What is it, Ana?” He takes a shaky step forward.
“I’m- well, it’s a curse, that’s for sure. I can see it the same way I look at people’s auras. But this one… it’s dark, Aziraphale. So dark and vile. The curse hasn’t just weakened him; it’s infected him. It’s taken over his… his brain… it’s poisoned him so, so terribly”.
A sob bursts from his mouth before he can stop it and he brings a shaky hand to his lips. “Who did this to him? I- I demand to know who would put this suffering unto him”. He suddenly burns with angelic fury, overtaking his horror and anxiety for a moment.
“Aziraphale… I’m sorry. I can’t- I just- if I try to identify it, it just goes fuzzy. It’s a blur. It’s blocking me, pushing me out, I can’t… it’s powerful, it’s definitely really powerful. No average demon could do this I don’t think. No, it’s something more, I just can’t quite get to it,” she squeezes her eyes shut to the strain. A hand comes to rest above her heart and her eyes shoot open again to look down. “Crowley”.
“Don’t… don’t hurt yourself, Ana. It’s fine. I’m fine. Don’t worry,” he slurs tiredly and tears well in his eyes.
She grasps his hand and frowns at him hard. She’s not used to seeing him like this- he looks, frankly, horrible. She’s never seen raw emotion so evident in his expression before (other than the loving or amused glances to Aziraphale she catches at times) as he looks up at her pleadingly.
“I’m afraid there’s nothing more I can do, anyway. I’m sorry, but I know you both and I know you’s will find a way to break this. Rest up, okay?” She smiles reassuringly and turns to Aziraphale who is watching with equally soft eyes.
“You don’t have to stay, Ana. I can see it’s draining you just being here,” Aziraphale says.
“Keep me updated, yeah? Promise?” She says as she reluctantly follows him to the door.
“Of course, dear. I promise. We’ll be okay. Thank you, so much”.
As soon as she has left, he returns to the couch, lifting Crowley’s head to sit down at one end and then letting him use his lap as a pillow. He shifts to look up into his angel’s eyes. Aziraphale leans down and presses a lingering kiss to his brow.
His fever has started to abate but he still looks awful so they stay there and rest in each other’s company for the rest of the morning.
LOOKYYYYY:
(use this link if image doesn't load- ao3 hates me)...
https://twitter.com/its_maddiet/status/1715862091871961171?s=61&t=LSPTT-fICjrqXowW-YFl-w
(and this link if needed for the second artwork)...
https://twitter.com/dumbbirdgal/status/1721221977937994135?s=61&t=Z_A52YWkJ2O7o_6lpe_7ug