welcome to sad damp cat hours with lynx, please enjoy some sad damp crowmus/snakemoon, dedicated to @impishtubist
Crowley paces, testing out the edge of the bed—no, better not—and the arm of the chair—not as comfortable as it looked—and the floor—the floor?
He jolts up and fumbles with the folding of his arms as Remus assesses the new and frantically bandaged gashes on his chest.
"I'm sorry," Crowley mumbles. "You're... er... the wolf is terrified of snakes. He started cowering and scratching and... I didn't know how to stop it."
"Ah." Remus smiles through a wince. "Well, thank you for trying."
He nods. "Right... I'll just..." Gesturing vaguely, he spins himself towards the door.
"Could..." Remus coughs, "you could... stay?"
"Oh. Well I... I have to..." He feels very wobbly all of a sudden. Poor Remus looks awful, his skin taking on a greenish tinge he hadn't thought possible for humans. "Of course, ang—darling."
The name Crowley was going to say crumples up into a wad in his throat, while the one did say makes Remus's entire face crumple.
"No." He jabs a finger at him. "No, don't do that. Because if you start, then I... fuck."
With a tinge of violence, he throws off his jacket and kicks off his shoes before climbing in beside Remus and pulling the quivering man into his arms. Shattering at his touch, Remus curls into him and sobs into his neck.
Tensed from his own battle against tears, Crowley pats his back. "I... I'm sorry I'm not him," he whispers.
"'M sorry I'm not your Angel," Remus sniffles back.
A terribly pathetic whimper that most certainly could not have come from him is unleashed, and he clings to this scruffy, bony ascetic—as ill a fit for an Aziraphale-shaped hole as the shapeless cut of his clothes.
And yet... he finds himself comforted in his arms, feels himself shiver at the gentle kiss on his tattoo and melt at the warm hands sliding down his hips.