Aziraphale x Crowley, a hurt/comfort fic that I have written with no real planning. This is going to be really bad. Prepare yourselves.
Aziraphale was uncomfortably hot, normally the bookstore was kept at the perfect human temperature, 18 degrees Celsius (at least that is what the angel had assumed was the proper temperature but Aziraphale was never completely sure). The heat was bearable, with his trusty coat tossed to the side and a book in hand- one he had read a millennia ago, Aziraphale did what any normal human would do. He ignored it. Sure, maybe it wasn’t the smartest of things to do, but the angel didn’t want to panic. Besides, the temperature changes quite a lot on earth, maybe that was all.
It was the pain that gave away the problem. Sweat was dripping down his skin, an unusual feeling that Aziraphale knew he was never going to get used to. In the middle of the climax of the book, the pain came sudden, causing the angel to drop it. The pain was sharp, leaving him gasping for breath, the pain growing from his stomach into his chest, weaving its way up into his throat. It felt as if a part of him was being plucked from his insides and getting pulled up and out of his mouth. Aziraphale had never experienced pain, he wasn’t human, he was an angel, after all, so he was left unsure of what to do, his throat tightening as if he had swallowed hellfire for fun.
“Oh Aziraphale, we’ve been expecting this to happen. You were much too human. Defying God and the plan…did you really think you would escape unharmed. I do have to admit, you and Crowley’s mismatched game was quite the show. Shame, you were so close to getting away with it, I guess you forgot that Agnus was not the only one who knew the future. God knows everything, to think we could have avoided this.” Aziraphale doubled over in his reading chair, his impeccable clean jacket falling onto the bookshop’s floor, gasping Aziraphale’s gaze found the face that belonged to the nauseating voice,
“Michael.” Aziraphale meant to make it sound angry, annoyed even. Instead, his voice was nothing but a raspy sound of nothing, it made him sound so scared. So human.
“Oh, Aziraphale. Tell me, how does it feel to have fallen from God’s graces?” Michael taunted before disappearing from the bookshop, his cackle filling the room from behind him.
“Angel? You never met up with me in the park, I was- Adam was getting quite worried when you didn’t show.” Crowley crawled out, his hands carefully waving around, fingers drifting amongst the different spines of books and antiques the other had so carefully put out. Rounding the corner towards Aziraphale’s reading chair, Crowley found the angel laying on the ground, unmoving. The demon sprung into action,
“Angel? Are you alright?” Crowley tried to remain calm, he really did, but his voice cracked slightly at the sight of the other,
“Call you what?” Crowley asked, relief flooding his system at the casual response, though a frown made its way onto his lips at the sound of Aziraphale’s depressive tone,
“Call me Angel. I’m- Crowley I’ ve-” Aziraphale couldn’t say it. It hurt too much. For hours he had laid on this floor, unmoving, his body feeling empty now that God’s graces had long since left him. In its place was emptiness, his blood was running a little hotter- the feeling of Hell’s powers now residing within him. He was revolted with himself- with everything he had now become. Crowley sniffed the air, he smelled hell- he immediately figured out what Aziraphale was saying. Stiffly and awkwardly, Crowley bent down, sitting criss-cross on the bookshop’s floor, pulling Aziraphale into his arms. It was an awkward position, Aziraphale laying partly in his crisscrossed legs, but neither complained,
“I’m disgusting Crowley. I’ve become everything I’ve hated. I can feel Hell inside of me. The darkness- the sin. It’s so hot yet I feel so cold on the inside. I hate it, Crowley.”
“Do you hate me?” Crowley drawled, his face rivaling that of a poker player- he had centuries to master it, hiding his pain at Aziraphale’s words easy,
“Of course not Crowley. You are different. You’re a balance between sin and humanity. You have always been so much more human than I. You aren’t bad Crowley, but you aren’t all that good either.” Aziraphale concludes as Crowley pats his back, motioning him to sit up. Carefully Aziraphale does, pushing himself into his own crisscrossed position,
“Well Zira, being a demon isn’t so bad now is it. You were never on Heaven’s side, and we all know I wasn’t on Hell’s. It has always been just you and me, and it still is. You no longer an angel, but neither of us demons. It is just you and I, Aziraphale and Crowley, more human than anything.”
@peanut-butter-and-juli You requested something like this. I hope I did this justice.
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