#sick!aziraphale

[minteacutiewrites]

My Turn- Good Omens

A little fic-request from a month ago for @nyx-is-forgoten-stuff, sorry it took so long but here it is, some sick!Aziraphale with caretaker!Crowley!

Aziraphale knew what he was getting into when he agreed to take care of Crowley after all, this wasn’t his first time doing this. He knew there would be a chance he’d also fall ill…he just wasn’t expecting it to come on so quickly.

It wasn’t more than a day or two before, an uncomfortable scratchiness settles in the back of his throat.

He tried drowning the feeling with copious amounts of tea, but it soon became apparent that it wouldn’t be leaving any time soon.

Now it was just a matter of hiding it from his scaly lover, as Aziraphale could already imagine the self-loathing that would come if Crowley found out. Crowley didn’t need that right now, especially since he was only just starting to get over this nasty cold himself.

Yes, Aziraphale would keep this from the demon. ‘Just for now.’ He thought to himself, bustling around the kitchen as he finished making the other a fresh cup of tea, setting on the tray with the other items he’d collected.

He pushed the door open to the bedroom with his hip, moving to the bed, which was currently occupied by a lump under the covers, steadily rising and falling with even breaths.

Smiling Aziraphale set the tray on the nightstand, gently resting his hand on where he assumed Crowley’s shoulder was shaking him gently, “It’s time to wake up love.” He said in a low voice, worried if he spoke any louder, a hoarseness would creep into it, “It’s time for some more medicine.”

The lump groaned, and Crowley head eventually poked out as he blinked his bleary yellow eyes, “What time is it?” He slurred, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

“Just a little after noon.” The angel told him, measuring out a dose of medicine, handing it over to him.  

Crowley downed it like a shot grimacing at the taste, glad to swap out the little plastic cup for a mug of tea, “Sorry I haven’t been the greatest company Angel, I’m sure you have better things to do than look after me.” He mumbled guilt leaking into his voice.

Aziraphale tutted, “Nonsense, you’re not here to entertain me.” He told the serpent, before climbing into bed with him, snuggling close, “Now finish your tea.”

~

It wasn’t long after Crowley finished his tea that he was fast asleep once more, leaning against Aziraphale comfortably as the Angel read.

Usually, Azirphale loved moments like this, but his shoulders ached, and his eyes stung as he strained them to read the words on the page. Setting the book aside, he rubbed his eyes groaning.

He tried to get a little more comfortable, shifting a bit, but he stopped when Crowley began to stir, not wanting to wake the demon.

Aziraphale sat there, his eyelids drooping with exhaustion, when the irritation that had been buzzing around in his nose all afternoon, finally ignited into a full-blown itch causing his breath to snag.

He pawed at his pink nose, sure that if he sneezed that it would wake Crowley, but despite his desperate attempts, nothing was going to stop this sneeze.

“Hh’Hih’HGNXsht!” Aziraphale sneeze pinching his nose shut to stifle. His nose did not like this one bit, rebelling against the suppressed sneeze immediately, “Hh’Huh’ASHHu! Hah’ASSHieuw! ‘TSSHhieuw!” He sneezed, jostling the demon awake.

Crowley blinked a little confused, having been caught completely off guard, “Bless you, Angel.” He said the words tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them igniting an itch in his own nose, “Hh’Huh’Gxshiew!”He sneezes sniffling.

Snagging the tissue box, he grabbed a couple for himself before passing them to Aziraphale, watching the angel blow his nose stuffily. Crowley took the soiled tissues from him when he was done tossing them in the direction of the waste bin when he was done.

“Angel, you should have said you weren’t feeling well.” Crowley scolded him lightly, pulling Aziraphale into his arms, letting him rest his head on his chest.

“I didn’t want to worry you.” Aziraphale croaked, dissolving into a coughing fit, the demon rubbing his back.

Crowley pressed a kiss to his forehead, “I think it’s time you let me do a bit of fussing for a change.” He grinned.

Aziraphale nodded, “I suppose you’re right.” He said, leaning against Crowley’s chest, letting the steady serpents heartbeat lull him to sleep.

[tiisshu]

265+235?

Lust + Massage. 

So, this definitely was longer than I anticipated. I am a bashful bean and really needed a beta reader to reassure myself with how this was going- but I did it, it is done! 

I hope it’s, like, at least 5% what you wanted lol 

                                    =====================

“ oh please Crowley, I can barely stand it!”.

“ Alright, Alright, Just quiet down, you’ll get yourself coughing again and … Well, you remember!”, Crowley snarked, irritated and yet elated at such a request. 

He scratched his neck thoughtfully as he regarded where he was crouched beside the sofa. A prone Angel who was slowly working his way through a dreadful flu was stretched out uncomfortably on said furniture. Crowley had been caught between two very opposite and every insistent needs and Aziraphale’s sniffling wasn’t making the distinction very clear.

He needed his Angel well again, to hear Aziraphale beg for comfort and help gave Crowley such a pit in his stomach and he was loathe to hear it in his voice.

 While on the flip side, he was so… So vulnerable, so… Cute?. His normally bright and sunny disposition clouded by fatigue and illness, lines appearing in his face that mirrored the discomfort in fever-addled muscles.  Crowley was surprised by how much he wanted to run his lips across them until they melted away, oh, And his voice, Crowley swallowed thickly commanding full control over his human body lest a shiver run through him. 

“..Crowley?”

Uh oh, caught. 

“Ah, sorry, was trying to figure out the, uh… Logistics”, he replied, getting to his feet and inspecting the sofa more closely. A few minor adjustments and it would work, though Crowley wasn’t sure of the situation he was very quickly finding himself ensnared in.

Aziraphale shifted where he lay, weakly attempting to pull his night shirt up, he paused his movements when his breath caught and he sneezed messily into the cushions.

Hahh'GSSHHAH ..HeH.. HA'ESSSHIEW! HEeSSSSH!

The last one sounded so tired and unrestrained, like Aziraphale had finally given up trying to keep up appearances and surrendered to this plane of existence. He also didn’t follow it up with an unnecessary apology as he was apt to.

Crowley tutted, and patted his friend on the shoulder by way of blessing - they didn’t need both of them going at it, so he intentionally left it unspoken. Plus he wasn’t sure if something in his voice would betray the lustful thoughts he was screaming into submission in his head. 

Crowley stretched, and with him so too did the sofa until he was sure it would accommodate them both. He reached over and placed his sunglasses on Aziraphale’s desk and rolled up his sleeves. 

Aziraphale startled slightly, as if he had been dozing, when Crowley place one of his hands just under the Angel’s nightshirts. The dry heat that met his palm wasn’t as high as it had been, but it was enough to constrict something in Crowley’s chest.

“I can probably work out the knots from over this, but it will be as inconvenient as hell so I’m not going to”, Crowley whispered, remembering the headache his friend had complained of earlier but trying to at least assert some sort of demonic opposition to what he was about to do.

Mmmm , was the muzzy reply that floated up from the cushions, Crowley was quick to still the Angel when he attempted to maneuver his shirt up over his head. He would have rolled his eyes and made a comment about doing things the hard way had he not encountered the Angel ill before.

He remembered how bad they could get with fever, having had to suffer through one himself last Autumn. He remembered the feeling of Aziraphale’s skilled hands making short work of un-threading the muscles in his back in such a way that if he had the capacity, he might have purred.

Aziraphale startled Crowley out of his reverie by reaching back to gently tug on his pant-leg. Satan, but that wasn’t helping him keep his concentration on diverting some bodily responses himself.

“Okay, okay… Jeeze”, he exclaimed as he snapped his fingers- the Angel’s nightshirt disappearing from him and reappearing on the ottoman folded neatly. 

Aziraphale would have appreciated it had he not been gearing up for a soaking Hnng’ GISSSHUHH! That extracted a weary sigh out of his companion who was pulling one of the clean handkerchiefs off the desk.

“Here. S'ok…”, He whispered reassuringly before the Angel could even comprehend what a mess he’d made. Aziraphale tended to become overly emotional with fevers and as of yet, Crowley had managed to maneuver them safely around the tear zone. He was not about to accidentally insult the poor Angel over a couple snotty sneezes. It’s not like he could have helped it anyway.

He gently wiped at the inflamed appendage, careful not to brush the fabric too hard against the already abused nostrils before he folded the handkerchief over and placed it near to the Angel’s hand.

Then, with iron-clad determination, Crowley got onto the couch and straddled the Angel, placing his knees down firmly beside his hips. Aziraphale sighed with such relief when Crowley placed his hands down at the base of his skull and began to slowly work the muscles there in small circles that Crowley almost stopped immediately and threw in the towel.

As it were, his hands had located a particularly bunched group of muscles just where the Trapezius muscle met his deltoid.  He hissed in sympathy when he felt how tightly it was knotted. This must have been causing a lot of discomfort with his breathing as well, he thought.

Okay, this is fine… Just focus on… On the muscle. Became a litany that ran over and over in his mind as the Demon tried to ignore the appreciative moans coming out of the Angel. Not to mention…

“Hah..’ Suh- Sorry.. I… IASSSHIEW! Hae'Esshuu! Ugh…”

Crowley’s eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head when the Angel suddenly tensed and sneezed beneath him. He felt each breath through his back and the vibration traveled through every part of him that connected with Aziraphale.

Every. Part.

Satan, if this is my ultimate demise, tell them I lived a good lifeHe thought to himself when thought was once again possible. He gave his head a shake and realized he had paused his ministrations and Aziraphale had already tended to his nose and was looking back at him out of the corner of one eye.

“Ah.. Alrighd, Crowley?”, Aziraphale asked with a faded cracked voice, concern lightly etching itself across his face as his brain tried desperately to keep focus. His eyes were glassy and fatigue radiated off him much in the way that his usual cheeriness did.

“Yeah, Course. Lie back down Angel, I almost got that nasty knot out”. He sidestepped the questioning and gently pressed Aziraphale back down onto the Sofa and returned to working the muscles - relieved that it seemed his work was already beginning to help.

Crowley silently thanked the universe that the Angel would probably not remember much of this other than the relief of being able to finally get some rest. He, on the other hand, was planning on memorizing every moment.

[musicalluna]

Today is the fourth straight day I’ve been stuck in bed with the most stubborn, exhausting summer cold I’ve ever had. It’s a very lousy day, and your fic offer is so kind. It’s a bit contrived, but i thought I’d share my fic notion and see if it catches your whimsy: Aziraphale somehow is experiencing flu-like symptoms (inhaled a lungfull of cursed brimstone? Angels are allergic to certain magical artifacts?) and is being a Right Bastard about it, whining and moping and refusing any and all care

i’m so sorry you’re not feeling well! i hope this at least cheers you up a tiny bit.

--

“This is your lot’s fault,” Aziraphale says sourly.

“Would you sit down?”

“No, I will not!” Aziraphale bursts, and wobbles dangerously on his feet, only just managing to right himself with a hand on a nearby bookshelf. Crowley sighs.

“Angel—”

“Don’t you—” Aziraphale sniffles noisily. “—‘angel’ me.”

“All right,” Crowley says slowly. “What would you prefer?”

The look he gets from Aziraphale is pure poison. Adorable poison, but poison nevertheless. His eyes are red-rimmed and watery and it makes his eyes look absolutely shockingly blue.

Crowley spreads his hands. “Whaaat? I’m trying to help!”

“I do not need your help.”

“Well, obviously. Doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be nice though, does it?”

“Nothing is nice right now!” Aziraphale says, stomping his foot. “I ache all over, my hairhurts, and I can’t taste anything!”

“Aziraphale,” Crowley says, with all the gentleness he can muster. He hates seeing him as miserable as all this.

Aziraphale sneezes violently and then sags. “I hate brimstone. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it.”

“It’s dreadful,” Crowley agrees, even though he doesn’t particularly think so. He’s a demon, brimstone smells quite nice to his mind. Aziraphale seems to know this because he gives Crowley a peeved look.

“I don’t like you very much right now,” Aziraphale says.

Crowley can’t help but grin. “Now, that’s not very angelic of you.”

“It’sveryangelic of me,” Aziraphale retorts irritably.

“I’ll make tea, shall I?”

“I don’t want tea,” Aziraphale grumbles.

“Marvelous,” Crowley replies, ignoring him completely. He goes into the nook where Aziraphale keeps the kettle and puts it on. He’s trying not to fuss, but it’s not every day an angel gets a cold. Or the celestial equivalent.

Out in the main area of the shop he can hear Aziraphale stumbling about and grumbling. By the time he’s got the tea poured it’s gone quiet and Crowley hurries back out with the cups, not worried,but…

Aziraphale has finally sat down in one of the high-backed chairs and he’s tipped to the side, head resting against one of the wings.

He’s asleep.

“Oh, thank God,” Crowley breathes, sagging. It’s been hoursand Aziraphale means everything to Crowley, but he’s been driving him absolutely batty.

Crowley sets the tea aside on a nearby table and then, very carefully, moves in and loosens Aziraphale’s bowtie, because the daft bastard is wearing his usual get up despite feeling like actual Hell. He’s not sure he can get it off without waking him, so Crowley leaves it draped around his neck. He unbuttons the ridiculous waistcoat and then kneels at Aziraphale’s feet and very gingerly removes his shoes. It’s not much, but it’s Aziraphale’s own fault.

When he’s well again, he’ll be mortified by his behavior. The thought makes Crowley smile.

[tiisshu]

25 & 172 for Aziraphale?

Sorry for how long this took, here you go. Prompts: Humiliated + Under the Weather for Az/iraphale!

Aziraphale did not quite feel himself. Over the past few days he had registered a sort of malaise feeling but had attributed it to the shift in the seasons. As Summer packed her bags, Autumn had arrived fiercely and without mercy.

Somehow, despite all ethereal law, He was beginning to come down with a head cold. It had been terribly damp as of late, but having spent so much time in London, he would have thought himself impervious and fully acclimated. Still, there was no denying it when a tickle dragged itself into existence deep in his sinuses. He had already seen quite a few humans dealing with a bug over the last couple weeks, it seemed everywhere he went there was someone looking poorly.

“huh…uh-oh h.. Dear..”, He hitched uselessly, the tickle not quite there yet- it seemed to have decided to drag this out which left Aziraphale teary-eyed and panting. He removed his glasses and set them on the table top as he tilted his head slightly to the left, hoping to catch the afternoon sun through the window and coax it along. 

After a moment, just as he was about to give up, the tickle sprang forward and he wrenched forward catching the tumble of sneezes into his cupped hands. 

Huh'Tissshiew! HiSSHU! Heh…. Eh.. Y'Isshchu! ‘SSHUE!

Blinking dizzily, Aziraphale straightened and pulled out a handkerchief to tend to his nose. He blew as efficiently as he could with the blossoming congestion and sighed heavily. He leaned his head back, closing his eyes against the pounding in his head.

 "Salud", came a sudden voice in the bookshop. Aziraphale choked on a gasp as his eyes flew open and he was startled by Crowley standing just beyond the counter pulling off his coat. I didn’t hear him…

Aziraphale wondered if it would be considered dramatic if he miracled the floor to swallow him up. Instead he coughed raggedly into a fist as he tried to get his heart to settle back into his chest. He would have to have a word with the Demon about startling him like that.

 Despite that sharp feeling of momentary panic, He couldn’t quite remember feeling  as humiliated before as he did now, not once in 6000 years. Surely Crowley found him disgusting and would see himself out leaving the Angel to suffer alone after that kind of display.

But…

That wasn’t the feeling radiating off the Demon at all. If anything, it was an intoxicating mix of fondness and … and Something else that had Aziraphale ethereally shutting down his face’s ability to blush before he reminded Crowley that there were certain things he couldn’t hide.

“Thagk you… I'b sorry… I should have called to cancel”, he began, his voice beginning to take on a more somber tone like he had been gargling with rocks only moments before.

 He saw Crowley take a hard swallow and run a hand through his hair, eyes roaming the back room for something to focus on other than the Angel for a moment. 

“Y…Yeah, Whatever, Angel”, Crowley responded, his voice cracking traitorously.

Interesting, thought Aziraphale as he felt another tickle creep up, perhaps being under the weather wouldn’t be so miserable after all.

[tiisshu]

“You shouldn’t be here”, Crowley said again, his hands buried deep in his pockets, his breath streaming out in front of him. 

“Id’s fide Crowley, P-please, id’s almost over”, came the slightly congested reply. Crowley once again shook his head and rolled his eyes. Aziraphale had been going on for weeks about this Parade, said he enjoyed the music and high spirits of it all.

 He wasn’t sure what people dressed as elves racing around in mini go-karts had to do with Christmas but he had to admit the crowd loved it.  Crowley didn’t get it.

“Hihh-!”

What he did get was that the December air was not helping his Angel’s cold and he huffed again as he adjusted his friend’s scarf, choosing to ignore the fond look the Angel was giving him.

He realized with relief that he didn’t have to ignore it for long. He noted the slight curl at the edge of his friend’s smile and the way his nose crinkled on the bridge. 

“heh-ehh!... Isshiew! Isshiew! ‘sshuu! ugh,mby apolodgies”, Aziraphale sniffled thickly and began to struggle getting his handkerchief out of his pocket. His fever-addled muscles proving unreliable gloved. Crowley stifled the fondness that began to rise up in his chest at the sight as he reached across to assist.

“Let me”.

[tiisshu]

If you’re still taking prompts what about high fever near discorporation ill Azir///phale with protective frantic Cro//wley? (Your writing is wonderful!)

Thank you for your kindness. This ... poor ineffable husbands. er, I hope this was along the lines of what you were thinking.

-----------------

Unbearable, searing heat. A feeling of weakness, as if oneself is sinking inward...

Sounds he could no longer identify, his vision wavering, as panic begins to take hold...

A fever is burning Aziraphale up, body mind and spirit. No not burn, Crowley reminded himself. Fires burned, Fevers consumed; and what was happening to his Angel could only be described as such.

He wet cloths and placed them in several key spots on the Angel, begged him to just take one more sip of water, that's a good Angel and applied him liberally with paracetamol.

After doing his best to re-hydrate his friend, he slipped in behind him on the couch and wrapped his arms tightly around him as his body tried to shake itself apart.

"C..cr...", Aziraphale vocalized, the closest thing he could get to his friend's name. He wanted... He needed...

"Hush now, I'm here... I got you", Crowley said with a voice strained over tears. It had been three days since Aziraphale had started to burn, discorporation was heavy on their minds- at least Crowley's after Aziraphale's temperature raced passed 103 degrees and coherent thought fled. It was an inevitable conclusion to his poor Angel's suffering.

Aziraphale began to cough then, a shallow raspy sound like wind scraped over stone. There was fear in his eyes and he clawed weakly at his chest. This was it.

 Crowley tried to ease him into a better position, but the Angel just couldn't quite catch his breath. His face went ashen and with one final savage shudder, he went still in the Demon's arms.

It was all too much, Crowley had found his breaking point. Even though it would likely only be a few days until he returned, Crowley felt the weight of the last few days wash over him. And with an armful of Angel, he lowered his face into Aziraphale's Shoulder and sobbed.