Ineffable husbands #5 for the hurt/comfort prompts! ❤️ (ladies and gentlemen...... ineffable husbands no. 5)
5. “Could you come and get me?”
Crowley had come to Aziraphale's rescue enough times to convince the angel that there was maybe something more than convenience to their arrangement. He'd gotten used to hearing the demon's teasing but concerned voice everytime he got into danger, whether it was a guillotine or Nazi spies. Crowley was always there to save him, like he'd been keeping an eye on him just in case.
So it was strange that Aziraphale found himself answering the call for help this time.
A literal call, on the telephone, around three in the morning.
Aziraphale almost ignored it, focused on his reading and well out of the bookshop's business hours. Maybe it occurred to him that only one person could be calling him at this hour, or maybe it was just luck, but either way he answered the phone and heard Crowley on the other side.
Crowley's voice sounded raspy and deep, and Aziraphale could hear labored breathing far too close to the receiver.
"Crowley? Is everything alright?"
"Yeah, fine… well, no…" Crowley sighed. "Bit of trouble… Aziraphale, could you come get me?"
Aziraphale set his book aside, taking the phone from where he'd set it between shoulder and ear to the more attentive hand. "What's going on?"
"Just need some help getting home,” Crowley murmured, his sentence punctuated with a low pained grunt.
“Where are you?” Aziraphale asked.
“Uh…” he could practically hear Crowley shrugging. “I think I’m near the park, I can probably get there… meet you.”
“You think?” Aziraphale pinched the bridge of his nose. “Are you drunk?”
“No, but if it’s alright I’d very much like to be as soon as possible.”
“Just… go to the park, I’ll be there,” Aziraphale ordered, as puzzled as he was concerned.
Peering about in the dark, Aziraphale saw nothing but sleeping ducks and bushes, until someone tall and battered stepped into the pale light of a nearby lamppost.
“Oh, good heavens,” Aziraphale clutched at his chest, heart aching at the sight of Crowley limping towards him.
His wings were out for starters, and it poor shape all tattered feathers and dragging on the ground. Patches of his skin looked burned and raw, and he had an arm held tight around his waist that was wet with blood.
“Crowley, what on earth happened?” Aziraphale rushed to his side, steadying him. Crowley seemed only too happy to lean on him for support.
“Did you know there’s still demon hunters in this day and age?” Crowley coughed. “I blame the movies… and that stupid show that’s been going on forever.”
“Easy now,” Aziraphale said.
“I’m not even working for hell anymore, and they come chasing me down for… tempting their kids with Dungeons and Dragons or something I dunno,” Crowley became heavier on Aziraphale’s shoulder, his feet failed to take the proper steps and Aziraphale had to catch him before he fell.
“Here, can you put these away?” Aziraphale asked, a gentle finger poking at Crowley’s wings. “I can carry you if you do.”
Crowley grunted, wings tucking themselves away.
Aziraphale lifted him, and as they walked Crowley fell silent, maybe asleep. He’d have to hurry them home and see how bad the damage was.
Suddenly, he felt one of Crowley’s hands curling into the front of his shirt. Half-lidded golden eyes peered up at him in the dark.
“Thank you for coming for me,” he said.
“I always will,” Aziraphale assured him.
