just some ineffable drabbles

[curlyq9393]

part i

“For goodness sake, Crowley, the door was locked; how did you even get in?”

 

Aziraphale had his hands planted on his hips and was tapping his left foot irritably. Crowley, who was supine on the couch, tipped his head back ever so slightly as he answered the angel. “Picked the lock. Didn’t even need to bother with a miracle.” He smirked slightly at Aziraphale. “Ah, while we’re on the subject--you need a new lock, Angel.”

 

Aziraphale crossed his arms and huffed. He was about to give Crowley quite the telling-off--he’d just spent the past several hours on a wild goose chase for a particularly rare edition, in the rain no less, and Crowley knew how he so detested the rain, and he’d just wanted to come home and enjoy a mug of hot cocoa but now he had this ridiculous nonsense to take care of--but then he noticed a few things that gave him pause. Crowley, normally so put together, appeared distinctly rumpled, and the sharp, lean lines of his body were periodically trembling. He was paler even than usual, save the flush high in his cheekbones, and he was squinting as if the light hurt his head.

 

In short, he looked unwell.

 

“I do keep a spare key under the mat,” Aziraphale said, moving closer to check Crowley’s temperature. “Just...for future reference.”

 

Crowley grumbled under his breath when Aziraphale’s palm made contact with his forehead, but allowed it nonetheless. “Yeah, I know,” he said. “But my way was more fun.”

 

“Oh, Crowley, honestly,” Aziraphale said, but his irritation was rapidly being replaced by worry. “You’re feverish, I think.”

 

“Mmm,” Crowley made a small assenting noise. “Thought I might be. Felt sorta funny since I woke up. Bit shivery, and all that.”

 

“Oh my,” Aziraphale said, fighting the instinct to fret, which he knew would just serve to annoy the demon. “Do you need anything?”

 

Crowley shook his head and lay back, closing his eyes. “Just wanna sleep,” he said.

 

“Alright, dear,” Aziraphale said gently. “I’ll be just downstairs if you need me.”

 

And he couldn’t be sure, and perhaps he imagined it, but Aziraphale could’ve sworn that just before he was out the door, he heard Crowley softly utter, “Thank you, Angel.”

 

part ii.

It really is a dreadful cold, Aziraphale thought as he listened to Crowley cough--it sounded worrisomely deep and chesty--up in the flat. He’d been attempting to reorganize the shelves in his Middle Eastern Theories about Middle Ages Maps section for the better part of two hours, but any time he made any sort of progress he got distracted by the sounds of Crowley sneezing and coughing and blowing his nose. And it certainly didn’t help that any time Aziraphale went in to see if Crowley needed anything, Crowley looked so pale and listless.

 

He eventually gave up on work and closed the shop early. He poured himself a glass of wine and retired to his favorite armchair--Crowley liked solitude when he wasn’t well, and Aziraphale thought the least he could do was give him the run of the flat until he was doing better--to read a chapter of an absolutely delectable Judy Garland biography. (Everyone is allowed guilty pleasures now and then, even angels, thank you very much).

 

But instead he found himself reading the same few sentences over and over; he couldn’t even blame it on the wine, as he’d barely finished half the glass. No, he knew exactly what it was that was keeping him so distracted; he was worried. He couldn’t help it, much as Crowley would like him to.

 

Aziraphale was about to tiptoe upstairs and finally, really insist that Crowley let himself be properly looked after for once in his silly life, when footsteps on the stairs saved Aziraphale the trouble. He quickly snapped his book shut. “Crowley?” he called out tentatively.

 

Crowley wandered into the room. At some point he must’ve changed out of his own clothes because he was wearing one of Aziraphale’s sweaters--it was an old favorite, particularly comfy and love-worn--and a pair of pyjama bottoms Aziraphale had bought years and years ago, just for the fun of it. Pale and red-nosed, he looked every bit a sleepy child, and Aziraphale’s heart was so full he was certain it would burst.

 

“Angel--” Crowley began, but his breath caught on the final syllable. Without thinking much about any possible celestial repercussions, Aziraphale miracled Crowley a handkerchief; quick to draw and just in time, too, as Crowley caught a fit of sneezes in the fabric moments after it appeared in his hand.

 

He blew his nose, which sounded terribly thick and congested, and Aziraphale distantly remembered that sometimes mortals got things called ‘sinus infections’ and could a demon get one too? If a demon could get a cold, it stood to reason that a demon could get other illnesses, but he’d never heard of that happening, so how was one to know--?

 

“Angel?”

 

Crowley’s voice, raspy though it was, managed to shake Aziraphale out of his anxious reverie. “Yes, Crowley?” he said tenderly.

 

“I don’t,” Crowley began, but had to pause to sneeze again. “Ugh. I don’t...feel...very well.” He glared at the ceiling as he said this, as if the very words were offensive and distasteful to him.

 

This, though, was the invitation Aziraphale had been waiting for. I don’t feel very well was my-name-is-Anthony-J.-Crowley-and-admitting-to-any-sort-of-weakness-makes-me-want-to-douse-myself-in-holy-water code for I’m miserable and dying and want you to cuddle me and coddle me until I feel better, please and thank you. That’s the sort of thing you figure out when you’ve known someone for 6,000 years.

 

So Aziraphale rushed over to his demon, wrapped him up in a thick wool blanket, and guided him towards the stairs. “Oh dear,” Aziraphale said, “you poor thing; you look as though you must feel so wretched. Come, let me tuck you into bed with plenty of extra layers so you don’t get chilled.”

 

“I’m not a child, ‘Zira,” Crowley muttered, but it was without much rancor, and really he sounded almost pleased. So Aziraphale ignored it.

 

“I’ll do a bit of research and see what medicines the mortals recommend; I have absolutely no idea if they’ll work on a demon,” he said cheerfully, “but won’t it be fun to see what happens?”

 

“Fun for whom?” Crowley asked, eyebrows raised, as he clambered into bed.

 

“Please do hush, Crowley, and let me nurse you properly,” Aziraphale fussed, fluffing Crowley’s pillows.

 

“You’re too good at this, and it’s taking all the fun out of being a whiny pain in the arse, you know,” Crowley said gravely.

 

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” exclaimed Aziraphale. “Would it be better if I pretended I didn’t know what I was doing so you could boss me about? Would that help?”

 

And the thing was, Crowley realized, he meant it; his blue eyes were so earnest and serious and full of something like affection that Crowley didn’t have the heart to keep teasing him. “No,” he said quickly, then tried a softer tone when Aziraphale looked startled. “No, what you’re doing is...fine.”

 

Aziraphale smiled, a wicked, merry glint in his eye. “Just fine?”

 

“It’s...you know...fine…!” Crowley spluttered, blushing. “Fine as in...fine. It’s...I like it. You’re very...you know. Helpful. I suppose. If I had to call it something. It’s the opposite of bad. And, erm, well. Yes. It’s all that.”

 

On any other day Aziraphale would’ve happily spent several minutes listening to Crowley try to offer a compliment, but felt that this time--under the circumstances--it would be rather unfair and unsporting. “Crowley,” he said, “I know what you mean. You can stop now.”

 

He pressed a kiss to the demon’s forehead, ignoring his complaints--you’re going to catch this, you know, and I’m not going to touch a single one of YOUR snotty handkerchiefs, Angel, I SWEAR it--and tucked the top blanket up to Crowley’s chin.

 

“Rest,” Aziraphale ordered softly. “I’ll be back presently with some tea, and perhaps even some ‘cough syrup.’ I’ve absolutely no idea what that is, but I think it sounds scrumptious, don’t you?”

 

And Anthony J. Crowley, for once in his life, did exactly as he was told.

[queenie]

Mmmmmmmmm yessssss this will do very nicely. I love the way they’re so preoccupied with each other without even noticing it. 

[Alabaster]

OH yes. I could do with more of this.

[Masking]

Aziraphale, he's gonna get a rude awakening with that cough syrup...just saying. XD

Sick Crowley is always the most adorable.

[AngelEyes]

OMG, This is absolutely scrumptious, as Az would say! So perfectly in character. 

On 6/28/2019 at 8:11 PM, curlyq9393 said:

He’d been attempting to reorganize the shelves in his Middle Eastern Theories about Middle Ages Maps section

LOL, love the specificity! 

 

On 6/28/2019 at 8:11 PM, curlyq9393 said:

I don’t feel very well was my-name-is-Anthony-J.-Crowley-and-admitting-to-any-sort-of-weakness-makes-me-want-to-douse-myself-in-holy-water code for I’m miserable and dying and want you to cuddle me and coddle me until I feel better, please and thank you. That’s the sort of thing you figure out when you’ve known someone for 6,000 years.

Totally sounds like a line out of the book!

 

On 6/28/2019 at 8:11 PM, curlyq9393 said:

“I’ll do a bit of research and see what medicines the mortals recommend; I have absolutely no idea if they’ll work on a demon,” he said cheerfully, “but won’t it be fun to see what happens?”

LOL, I love Az's enthusiasm.

 

On 6/28/2019 at 8:11 PM, curlyq9393 said:

“Please do hush, Crowley, and let me nurse you properly,” Aziraphale fussed, fluffing Crowley’s pillows.

I can totally picture him fussing!

 

On 6/28/2019 at 8:11 PM, curlyq9393 said:

“It’s...you know...fine…!” Crowley spluttered, blushing. “Fine as in...fine. It’s...I like it. You’re very...you know. Helpful. I suppose. If I had to call it something. It’s the opposite of bad. And, erm, well. Yes. It’s all that.”

LOL! Poor Crowley. Trying to keep up his badass persona, which we all know doesn't apply to Az.

 

On 6/28/2019 at 8:11 PM, curlyq9393 said:

“Rest,” Aziraphale ordered softly. “I’ll be back presently with some tea, and perhaps even some ‘cough syrup.’ I’ve absolutely no idea what that is, but I think it sounds scrumptious, don’t you?”

LOL!

[TheCakeIsAlive]

Aww the poor sweet ill demon. ❤️ And all the caretaking and awww. Just ignore me whilst I'm dying of cute over here.