Good Omens One Shots 1

Memory 9

Crowley woke up blinded and screaming and he couldn't remember why.

"Dear, love please," Aziraphale whispered brokenly from beside him. There was an arm on his shoulder rubbing warmth into him, yet he still felt cold. There was another hand on his back, stroking up and down his spine with the barest stroke of fingers.

Crowley panted as he tried to catch his breath, "Aziraphale," he gasped, trying to follow that warmth and lean into it.

"There's a love," the angel held him tighter as Crowley shivered. The demon struggled to blink away the darkness as he looked up at Aziraphale's solid figure pressed against him.

"Whatsss happened?" he attempted to ask, but his tongue didn't seem to sit right in his mouth and he just felt that he was hissing.

Aziraphale's breath hitched and he looked down at the demon with wide watery eyes, "Are you awake?" his voice was high and tight.

The demon nodded and pressed his face into the angel's chest, "Don't 'member," he grumbled. Where was he? How did he get here? Why was Aziraphale here?

The angel shifted next to him, a hand leaving his side momentarily so the angel could wipe his eyes, "You've been asleep for days," he finally said, voice forcibly calm. "After I got you back here, you passed out and have been plagued with nightmares and sickness."

"Huh," the demon sighed and enjoyed the sort of rocking motion Aziraphale was setting. He belately wondered if it was even Aziraphale who was rocking or if it was just his nauseated body, "demonsss don't get sick," he muttered as his eyes drifted shut and he let the darkness take over again.

The room was pitch black when he awoke again. There was a thick scent of lavender throughout the room and there were tartan blankets up to his chin. Yet, he was shivering and didn't know why. No one else was in the room with him.

"Angel?" He called out weakly into the vast silence of the house. Aziraphale was supposed to be here, wasn't he?

A minute later, there was the sound of padded footsteps coming to the door. It creaked open, letting in a soft golden light, "Crowley?" the angel whispered, "Are you awake?" Aziraphale stepped into the room, his eyes red and puffy but there was a hopeful smile on his face.

"Yeah," the demon struggled against the blankets, managing to throw off a few layers growing increasingly alarmed at how weak and uncoordinated his corporation had become.

The angel was at his side in an instant, helping him sit up against the pillows. Crowley groped at the angel's forearms for support and groaned heavily as he finally got sitting upright, but there was something missing.

"Where's my ring?" he asked, eyes blown wide as he searched the angel's eyes for an answer. Was this all a fevered dream? Had he really imagined the perfect life for himself and was just waking up? "Where is it?" his pitch and volume rose in panic as one of his hands pressed against his neck and chest for where the necklace and his wedding ring might be.

"Shh, love it's right here." Aziraphale soothed, running a hand through the demon's hair while gesturing to the bedside table.

When his eyes fell on the gold band he relaxed into the pillows reaching for it weakly. He wanted to put it on, yet his hand wouldn't cooperate. It kept clenching and jerking against his will. "What's going on?" he asked, the feeling of helplessness setting in. He could barely move or concentrate on one thing at a time. His memory was shot to hell and the world was starting to fuzz around Aziraphale.

"I believe you have fallen sick my dear," the angel cupped his face, eyes searching the demon's own as his world seemed to unfocus, "Can you stay awake a little longer for me? You should eat something."

The energy in his body seemed to sap away and before he could even nod or shake his head the room faded to black.

He was walking down the hallway, the angels arm around his waist supporting him when he regained consciousness. There was a falter in his step as the sudden awareness overwhelmed him.

"It's okay love," Aziraphale was murmuring encouragingly next to him, "Just one foot in front of the other... that's it."

Crowley mumbled something back that didn't make sense and they kept their slow pace down the hall and to the kitchen. Aziraphale deposited the demon at the head of the table where a bowl of soup was steaming. The angel dragged another chair to his side so Crowley wouldn't lean too far to one side and fall over.

He stirred the soup gently and held up a spoonful to the demon's lips, "Just a bite for me, please?"

Automatically, Crowley's mouth opened and the warm liquid poured down his throat.

"Very good my love," the angel beamed. Crowley took a moment to really look at him. There were bags under his eyes and they were rimmed red, making the bright blue of his irises stand out brilliantly. He looked pale and exhausted, the hand holding the spoon shook slightly as it stirred and lifted another bite for the demon to eat. "You're doing wonderfully," he murmured when Crowley let the spoon into his mouth.

Crowley attempted to groan out a question or something so the angel would stop looking so sad, but all that happened was he gurgled a bit more of the soup.

"Ah," Aziraphale let go of the spoon in favor of miracling up a napkin to wipe where Crowley had dribbled a bit, "There you are, all clean."

"Angel..." Crowley attempted to say, finding that despite the soup his throat was still incredibly sore. He winced at the pain.

Aziraphale cradled his face gently, "Don't try to speak love. Everything's going to be okay, alright? Just another bite."

The spoon was shaking even more as the angel lifted it to the demon's lips. So much so that a bit spilled down onto Crowley's clothes which he now realized were the angel's own tartan pajamas. Aziraphale cursed, wiping at the mess he made.

He tried again with the spoon and Crowley leaned forward to take the food before the angel accidentally spilled again. Aziraphale took a steadying breath and continued to keep feeding the demon until they were halfway through the bowl and Crowley had had enough. He pursed his lips and didn't let another bite through.

"Just one more please?" Aziraphale pleaded, eyes wide and begging.

Crowley really wanted to, he really did, but he was afraid if he let anymore in he might throw it up. He shook his head.

"Okay, okay," the angel sighed despondently, "Let's get you back to bed then." He stood and helped the demon to standing as well.

Crowley's knees buckled and he sagged against the angel, the energy leaving him quickly. Aziraphale was quick to react and scooped under the demon's knees and back as to pick up Crowley bridal style. The demon whimpered at the sudden movement and reached his arms around the angel's neck and nuzzled him there.

Aziraphale carried Crowley as if he weighed nothing, gently setting him back on the bed as if he was a delicate glass figure. The demon relaxed into the mattress and pillows while the angel piled on the blankets. When he was satisfied he leaned over Crowley and placed a kiss at the demon's temple, where his tattoo of a snake rested.

The angel pulled away, smiling softly at him, "Get some rest." his hands threading through the demon's hair in firm gentle strokes.

"I love you," Crowley managed to get out as his eyelids became too heavy to keep open anymore. He felt the angel needed to hear it. Aziraphale shouldn't be looking so sad, especially because of him. He couldn't do much, but he could say those three words over and over before he drifted off once again.