My Angel 《Crowley x Aziraphale: Good Omens》

Calm

“Aziraphale?”, Crowley called out into the darkened shop, spotting a shadow hovering upstairs, frozen in the only light. This figure looked like the angel, his curly hair was visible even in his shadow.
Aziraphale sighed with relief, it was only Crowley...Crowley! His friend must not see him like this! But how to avoid it was something Aziraphale couldn’t fathom. “Aziraphale?! Are you there angel?”, he was getting closer to the bathroom, a panic rose in Aziraphale: “Crowley! It’s me, I’m fine. Don’t--” he called back, his voice broke as he said his friend’s name and although he had meant to say more, he couldn’t for fear that he would start sobbing.

Crowley acknowledged the break in Aziraphale’s voice, the stutter he made before falling silent. Why was he hiding? What...who was he hiding? Maybe he had decided to celebrate the end of Armageddon by having dinner with someone. Crowley knew he wouldn’t be able to handle this: his angel with someone else, loving someone else.

He rushed into the bathroom but was stopped dead in his tracks; wrenching his sunglasses off his face, Crowley laid eyes on his angel. Aziraphale’s face was beaten, black and blue, tears were rolling down his cheeks making tracks in the blood. This blood, his blood, was splattered all across his neck and clothes and his white outfit was a mess. His curls were all over the place, blood matted into them and he was stood shaking from head to toe, clutching onto the side of the sink. “Oh my angel...” Crowley gasped, placing his large hand on the side of Aziraphale’s face and wiping away his tears. “Who did this to you? Was it Gabriel?”, Crowley’s voice became a growl, his yellow eyes flashed menacingly as he whipped his hand from the angels face. “I....it doesn’t matter Crowley. I’m fine, honestly....don’t even worry about me" Aziraphale said, his voice shaking almost as much as his body. Crowley knew his anger would have to wait, it was softening already at seeing the only man he cared about suffer so much. “Sit down angel" he muttered, softly taking Aziraphale’s arm and helping him down onto a chair.

Crowley grabbed a cloth and began to mop up Aziraphale’s face, the blood was thick and his bruises didn’t seem to be going anywhere anytime soon without a miracle. “I’m going to need you to...to take off your shirt...so I can clean the cuts on your chest" Crowley said, speaking for the first time in about 15 minutes. Aziraphale simply nodded and began to fumble with his buttons. Sighing, Crowley gently took his hand, moved it away, and began to unbutton the shirt himself. This wasn’t how he'd imagined the first time seeing Aziraphale shirtless would play out but, still, he wasn’t complaining. He felt his heart quicken as he moved to the back of the angel to ease the shirt off. Aziraphale’s shoulder blades contracted slightly as he winced with the pain. Crowley held onto the angel's shoulder as he twisted around to the front. It was amazing how soft and glowing his skin was, how good he looked without a shirt. Crowley pulled himself a chair in front of the angel and began to clean away at the several deep cuts and bruises that marked Aziraphale’s chest.

Aziraphale himself had been quietly over-thinking the whole time that Crowley was attempting to clean him up. He didn’t want to think about what he would have done had Crowley not showed up - he’d probably just end up hurting himself more. He had been so scared that the angels were returning to finish him off that he had no time to think that it would be his beloved Crowley instead.

But now here he was: sat in the dim evening light, with his shirt off and Crowley in front of him. Now that he didn’t have any angels to worry about, Aziraphale felt wholly embarrassed of his body...surely Crowley would be secretly laughing at him, biting his cheeks, trying not to make fun of him...that had to be why he wasn’t saying anything.
Aziraphale wasn’t exactly 'chubby' but he was nowhere near slim either: he was a weird mix of both, probably due to his love for cake, wine and sitting on sofas. He flicked his eyes upwards, and hesitantly looked at Crowley’s face. The demon was flawless - in Aziraphale’s opinion. His brow was furrowed with concentration, his yellow viper eyes glaring at the cuts as though that would make them disappear or become less prominent. He kept running is hands through his red hair and sighing and Aziraphale was desperate to know what was going on inside his head.

“Well...it’s not perfect but its the best that can be done at the moment. Honestly, you should just miracle them away" Crowley sighed, waving a hand at the bluey-purple bruises across Aziraphale’s stomach, the ones caused by Sandalphon and his bat. Aziraphale himself knew that he could’ve done that all along but, in reality, he didn’t think he should. In his eyes, he deserved this. He deserved this pain because he really was just what Gabriel and all the other angels thought he was: a bad angel, practically fallen, he supposed. “Um...yes, I could do I suppose" he said quietly, attempting to stand up. “You don’t want to...?” Crowley said suddenly, watching the angel sit back down with a thump. “Why don’t you want to? You think you deserve this, is that it?!” Crowley’s eyes were flashing again but not with anger, Aziraphale thought it was more like indignation. “Crowley...I am a rather bad egg, don’t you think? That’s what they all think, up there...” Aziraphale trailed off, twisting his hands around each other while staring at the floor. Crowley softened, he hated seeing the angel so down hearted, “You’re not a bad egg Aziraphale...you’re the furthest thing from a bad egg. Who even says bad egg?”, Aziraphale laughed. Crowley reached down, raising the angels face with his finger, “ Let’s get you out of this room and I’ll tidy up...” Crowley glanced around the room with disgust – why was everything so bright and so messy?
“Books in the bathroom?” he laughed, rolling his eyes. “Excuse me, everyone has books in their bathroom!” the angel said indignantly, standing up and grabbing onto the sink once more. “Woah, slow down angel” Crowley said, swiftly twisting an arm around Aziraphale’s waist. Aziraphale felt himself go red, Crowley’s skin was cold and his grip firm but Aziraphale found it strangely comforting. “Why the red face angel?” Crowley muttered, glancing at him, making him blush harder than before, “Hold onto me for support” Crowley instructed, taking Aziraphale’s hand and placing it on his shoulder. They began to walk back into the living room, very gingerly as Aziraphale was in a lot of pain, he noticed how muscular Crowley’s shoulder was, how his own arm was just the right length to clasp it, and how safe the demon felt. Crowley even smelt good to him, he smelt of all the things Aziraphale loved: cigarettes, wine and...well, and Crowley.

☆hi guys...okay so this one is a bit longer (maybeee too long?) I just wanted to say thanks for 100 reads!!! It's nothing compared to some other writers but it means the whole world to me...love ya all
Have a great day!☆