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Early to Bed Late to Rise (Good Omens) Crowley


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“Early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.”

If Benjamin Franklin wasn’t on the opposition’s side Anthony J Crowley would have had some choice words to yell at him for that saying.

He had gone to bed early and got up early and all he had to show for it was a sore throat and aching limbs!

Of course he had slept for 30 hours in between those two things, but that was beside the point. Well actually that was the whole point really as sleeping an entire day away made it the day after the day it was supposed to be.  So by the time he realized it wasn’t the day he thought it was it wasn’t early anymore, and that had him running to a meeting with head office he was now late for.  

“Crowley, you’re late!”

“No excuse, Lord Beelzebub.”

They merely looked at him coldly and allowed him to enter the room.  Still Crowley knew that gaze meant no miracles for the foreseeable future if he couldn’t be bothered to use them to find a way to be on time.  Of course since he was late that also meant there were no chairs left.  So that left him leaning against the wall at the back of the room.  Crowley shivered and wrapped his arms around his body tightly, why did Hell have to be so drafty?

He did his best to at least look like he was paying attention even though there was a dull ache forming behind his eyes.  Still since he’d rushed there and it felt like someone had glued sandpaper all down his throat it wasn’t a shock when he eventually had to duck his head into his sleeve to cough.

The logic of the situation didn’t stop him from wincing though as everyone was glaring at him when he stood back up properly.



It was well into the evening when Crowley finally found himself topside again.  The dull pain had formed itself into a proper headache sometime between the end of the meeting and having a private chat with the higher ups about the deeds of the day.  Needless to say no one was impressed with his crossing against several red lights and spilling coffee on innocence bystanders in his rush to get there.    

Crowley’s mood picked up though as a familiar bookshop came into view; the one bright spot in a very miserable day.  Maybe he could convince Aziraphale to break out the good wine.  It would probably make him feel worse in the long run, but at least it would dull the throb in his head for a while before that.  

The wind came up harshly and Crowley stuffed his hands in his coat pockets.  Or maybe he would just cave immediately and ask for tea.  At the very least he would have a sympathetic ear. 

Ignoring the closed sign as he always did Crowley went inside and found the usually cluttered, but organized shop in disarray.

“Aziraphale?” he called out, ignoring the strain it put on his voice, thinking something had happened.

The angel in question came out from the back room with a full box in his hands.

“Really if you have something else to say you could at least…oh, Crowley, it’s you.”

“You were expecting someone else?”

“Uriel and Michael stopped in today for a surprise inspection of all things.”

“Did they inspect every book?”

“No, but they were insistent that there were far too many, and that they should be organized better, and that I should sweep up more often, make it look like I care about how I present myself on Earth.  Oh, I should want to have your bosses, Crowley, they never check in.”

Crowley felt oddly insulted. “You weren’t the only one with meetings today.”

“But they didn’t come to your flat and criticize everything important to you did they?”

The demon shook his head no.

Aziraphale sighed. “I know I’m tetchy it’s just…it’s just so much easier to deal with them when I’m in their good books so I figured why not take some of their suggestions?  Gives me an excuse to keep the shop closed after all,” he said with a small smile. “I don’t suppose you’d like to help me?”  

Crowley rubbed the back of his neck, aware of the knots forming there and everywhere else really, by Satan he ached. “Don’t know if I’m up for a lot of lifting, Aziraphale.  I’m not really at my best I-”

Aziraphale looked at him with those eyes and Crowley folded like a cheap lawn chair.

“All right.”


An hour later Crowley was seriously regretting several life decisions as he set down a box for the second time and tugged at the collar of his shirt.

He was starting to feel far too hot.

“It does go faster when you don’t take so many breaks, Crowley.”

“Sorry,” Crowley said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.  He was getting so tired of saying that word. “I just… hihh-”

His breath hitched sharply with a sudden tickle and Crowley curled a fist under his nose trying to contain it.

Huh’gnxtch! Heh-heh’igntchhh!

“Yes, I know it’s dusty, but it keeps the customers away.”

The angel went around the shelves without another word.  Crowley sighed and picked up the box once more, doing his best to carry on. Telling himself that once this was done they could relax and Aziraphale would surely be more inclined to focus on him then, in thanks if nothing else.

When the last box was finally moved Crowley went around back to where Aziraphale had gone and stopped short upon finding him sitting with a mug of coco looking over his inventory records.

“You finished without me?”

Aziraphale gave a small shrug.  “You were taking longer than me so I thought I’d start another task while I waited.”

Crowley was hurt that he hadn’t even offered to help him finish.  Then he noticed there was only one mug on the desk.  Apparently it also hadn’t occurred to Aziraphale that he might have wanted something to drink too.

“Look I’m sorry it took longer than you wanted, but I told you I’m not well.”

“Yes, you mentioned you also had meetings today, but really I don’t think that’s any reason to spend so much time sulking over moving a few books and papers.”

Crowley choked out a few half-formed words before turning on his heel.


The only answer Aziraphale received was the slamming of the bookshop’s front door.


Crowley was going to go straight to his flat, but there was a pharmacy on the corner and the huge sale sign in the window beckoned him in.

Thankfully since his purchases were nothing but tissues, ginger ale, orange juice, a thermometer for good measure, and associated cold and flu medication in every flavour they had on the shelf nobody made small talk.

Getting home at last he dumped everything on the table.  Then set about grabbing every blanket and pillow he could find and dumping those on the couch.  As he stood back to see if he’d missed anything, and swayed as so much movement so quickly made him dizzy, it occurred to him that he probably should be in bed, but whatever.

Nobody else cared why should he?

He settled in and started flipping through the channels on his TV.  Smiling when he found an episode of The Golden Girls where they were dealing with the exact same problem he was, and they looked just as miserable as he felt.

“Do we have any orange juice left?”

Crowley smirked as Dorothy picked up the pitcher and poured the rest of the orange juice into her nearly full glass.

“No, we’re all out.”

“Amen to that,” Crowley declared, and drained his own glass.

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So I read this one on Tumblr a while ago but it's nice to have an excuse to revisit it, it's lovely. Poor Crowley, his near-compulsive need to do things for Aziraphale works out better when he's not getting the flu.

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3 hours ago, ohlala8 said:

Poor Crowley, his near-compulsive need to do things for Aziraphale works out better when he's not getting the flu.

Is does indeed, but Crowley and self-preservation do not go together at all when it comes to Aziraphale.  Thankfully his angel at least gets around to returning the favour. 


Aziraphale was trying to read a book, but couldn’t concentrate.  After the fifth time going over the same page he set it down and stared at the phone on his desk.

Crowley hadn’t called.

It had been three days since the demon had walked out of his bookshop without a word.  It wasn’t that that was all that long for them, but it was long enough for Aziraphale to reflect on the fact that he had acted like a right arse.  He’d been upset about the whole inspection and took it out on Crowley because he had been there, and after he had offered to help and all.  Sure the work wasn’t good, but that was also eating at Aziraphale. It wasn’t like Crowley to slack off when it was something they were doing together.  That was something reserved for his bosses and that was what Aziraphale thought Crowley meant about being in meetings all day.  Perhaps there was something more to it though than simply a bad day at the office.  He had said he wasn’t at his best that he wasn’t well, surely that didn’t mean he was ill but…

Aziraphale decided he should go check on him just in case.


Crowley stirred from his mountain of pillows as he heard a knock on the door.  He blinked groggily trying to get his bearings after dozing for a while. Not sleeping though he told himself, sleeping had caused this mess in the first place.  Not that he could anyway with his lungs trying to crawl out of his throat.

Crowley didn’t bother to move as he heard the door open.  If it was Aziraphale coming to complain again about his work ethic or Beelzebub for that matter then so be it.  Either could smite him right now he felt too awful to care.


Aziraphale stopped short as he came into the living room and found the cans of ginger ale and glasses that littered the table.  Along with cough syrup bottles, tissues, and the remains of what once might have been a thermometer.

“Oh, dear.”

Then there was the demon himself buried in a nest of blankets.  Skin pale, a sheen of sweat on his forehead, flushed cheeks, and a nose that was chapped and red.

“What do you want?” Crowley asked, his voice raspy and thin.

“You are unwell.”

“Really?  Hadn’t noticed,” he answered, sarcasm dripping from every word.  Rather you didn’t notice he thought.

That thought was quickly derailed however when Aziraphale came over and pressed a hand against his forehead. Crowley cursed himself for leaning into it, but his touch was cool and soft.

“I’m so sorry, Crowley, I thought there might be something more to you storming out that day, but I didn’t think you were nearly this bad off.”

“Well then lucky you for catching me at the beginning of this fluuhhh h-hold on-hehh!

Aziraphale cringed at the wheeze he could hear as Crowley’s breath hitched.

Hihh…heh’ESHUUu! ISSHh! ehh’ESHUhh!

A deep cough followed the sneezes and had Crowley reaching for one of the glasses half filled with juice. While Aziraphale tutted in sympathy and rubbed his back.

“My dear fellow, how can I help?”

“Really, Aziraphale, it’s fine I can handle this.”

Aziraphale again looked over the disaster area that had once been a perfectly serviceable living room.

“Yes, I can tell.”

“Well neither of us is miracling anything away right now we both know that.  So that leaves ye old human methods of rest and fluids so I’m set.”

“Still you should have something warm-”

“Can’t forgot to get tea.”

Crowley realized his mistake the moment the words left his mouth because he knew he’d just given Aziraphale a weak point to exploit.

The angel smiled and headed for the kitchen. “I’ll be right back.”

Crowley groaned and buried himself under the blankets, focusing on the TV until Aziraphale returned with a steaming mug in his hands.

“You were right you don’t have tea, but I thought this might be more to your liking anyway.”

Crowley looked over to see the mug contained hot chocolate and cursed his heart for melting at the sight of it.

“Thank you.”

He accepted the mug and sipped slowly letting the warmth melt the feeling of utter wretchedness that had filled his body away if only for a moment.  

And it was only a moment as Crowley was half done when the drink loosened up his congestion enough that he scrambled for the tissues.

heh-heh’ashh! ESUHhh! hihh…ihhh…ISHUHuh!

Aziraphale took the opportunity to join him on the couch, pulling the blankets around both of them.

“Angel, this is nasty you don’t need to catch it too.”

Aziraphale stayed where he was, but smiled at the nickname and knew he was forgiven.

“The contagion period starts before symptoms appear so if I do catch this from you it will likely have already happened.”

He let his hands roam over Crowley’s neck and shoulders in gentle circles, working to massage the tense muscles.  Crowley moaned in relief and curled tightly around him.

“Rest, Crowley, I’ll be here if you need me.”

Crowley let out a half mumbled word that might have been a thank you against Aziraphale’s chest and finally let himself fall asleep.

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This is so well written, I love your characterization! Ooh I hope there's contagion hehe!! 

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