Well, That Was A Thing (Good Omens One-Shots)

34; Just Following Orders

Context: Aziraphale has some old wounds from The First Rebellion and Crowley tries to do something about it.

They say time heals all wounds, but that's not entirely true for supernatural entities.

Word Count: 3,500

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Crowley's POV:

Moving to the South Downs was the third best decision Crowley had ever made. With the first being introducing himself to Aziraphale 6 millennia ago, and the second being asking the angel to marry him, of course. The pair had gotten quite cozy with their new home and hobbies. The demon had so much more space for his gardening and he loved it. His old flat's plant room paled in comparison to their backyard. It was like his own little Eden, minus the mountains and the waterfall, though he did get a koi pond to have some kind of water feature.

While his husband was toiling away outside, Aziraphale was indoors entertaining himself with a myriad of things. Reading, of course, was his first true love (sorry Crowley, it took him a while). He also realized he enjoyed cooking just as much as he liked eating, and that he was a quick learner when it came to art. That last one was completely accidental. He and Crowley decided to paint the cottage before they moved in and after the demon accidentally got the wrong color onto the wrong spot, Aziraphale turned it into a decent looking sunset in the corner of the wall. He was going to paint over it, but Crowley insisted they keep it, saying it gave the house more character.

Rather than using a canvas, Aziraphale preferred to paint landscapes on small, smooth river rocks. Crowley thought it was adorable, the way he'd finish one and leave it somewhere in the house for him to find. The most recent one had been a field of sunflowers. His favorite, so far, was the one with white waterlilies. Crowley kept that one on his nightstand.

Today, Aziraphale wanted to paint one of the boulders near the koi pond. He decided to paint a Japanese temple onto it. He had just finished his outline, about to start with the colors but he felt a sharp pain shoot down the length of his right arm. He let out a yelp and Crowley dropped the hose to run to his side.

Angel!

"What's wrong?" He asked, falling to his knees to be at his angel's aid.

Aziraphale shook his head as he clutched his right shoulder. "I didn't mean to startle you, dearest. Just an old wound flaring up. Should go away in a bit."

"Why not just miracle it away? Make things easier." He said, about to snap his fingers.

The blond stopped him. "That's never really worked. Holy wound, and all."

The demon's anxiety died down. "Oh..." Logically speaking, Crowley knew Aziraphale fought in The First Rebellion. It was obvious! He was a warrior, for crying out loud. He was in charge of a platoon, and he was damn good with his sword before he gave it away. But they never really talked about the war because Aziraphale didn't want to bring up Crowley's Fall. Thanks to this unspoken rule, he had never told the redheaded about the injuries he sustained in battle.

Crowley hated feeling helpless. "What can I do?"

"Don't worry about me, dear. It'll pass, just like it always does. Perhaps I'll continue this affair tomorrow, so I can rest my shoulder a bit." Said the angel as he picked up his supplies.

The redhead "You sure?"

"It's happened many times over the millennia, I'm used to it. I'll be fine. I'll be heading inside now." Insisted Aziraphale.

"You'll scream if you need anything, yeah?"

The angel nodded and kissed his forehead. "Of course, love."