Chapter Text
Crowley flopped over onto one side. No good. He turned onto his back with one arm over his eyes. Then the other side. Also terrible.
“Can’t sleep?” asked Aziraphale, peering at him over the pages of his book. “You said you were exhausted?”
“Ughhhghghgh” Crowley said. Because he was. Weary down deep into his bones. He just couldn’t figure out how to get comfortable. Too hot with the covers on, too cold and exposed with them off. His pajamas itched. Silk! Pajamas itched! How dare they!
Aziraphale extended a plump, kind hand towards him, and Crowley wriggled away. “I’m sorry, no, Angel, just right now, I don’t know, I can’t….”
Crowley sat up on the edge of the bed, shucked out of his wretched silk pajama top, and rummaged in the chest of drawers. Ugh no, too tight too scratchy too much too…
He yanked open Aziraphale’s drawer and found what he needed, a large, much-washed, soft undershirt. He slid that on. It wasn’t perfect, but it did help. Soft.
“Are you all right, dear?” Aziraphale asked. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Urgh. I’m fine, Angel. Jus fine. Go read your book.” Crowley tried to keep his tone gentle. It wasn’t Aziraphale’s fault he was feeling like… whatever this was. Crowley glared down at the silk pajama bottoms until they shivered and transformed themselves into soft cotton.
“Gonna go play video games,” Crowley ground out, then stalked into the living room.
Grand Theft Auto usually cheered him up when he was in a sour mood. It had everything. Car crashes. Crime. Vices. He’d had nothing to do with creating it, but he’d gotten a commendation for each version that was released.
He switched the console off after a few minutes. It was too bright, too loud in his headphones, too much too much. He missed smiting things. But of course, he didn’t do that sort of thing anymore, did he? He tried Candy Crush on his phone, to see if the rows and rows would soothe him. But that was too glaring and bright and his reactions felt… off. Couldn’t get zoned out about it properly.
His skin prickled. His brain prickled. He heaved himself to his feet and stalked to the kitchen.
Even though he was miserable, he could do something nice for his angel.
Help make up for his current mood, and the sort of surly mood he’d been trying to hide all week. He’d tried to make the best of it, suggesting cozy dinners in rather than having to deal with the barrage of conversation in restaurants. He’d picked at his food listlessly, done his best to keep Aziraphale talking about books, only half listening. Stuck in his own head and his own skin. His skin that didn’t seem to fit right at all.
He got the cocoa out of the cupboard, and the milk out of the fridge, plugged in the cunning little milk frother gadget and filled it up, put cocoa powder in the waiting mug. Lost himself for a moment in the almost-soothing mechanical whirr of the milk frother. And then, the bastard thing started to ooze milk out the top, dribbling down the sides. “No no no you stupid wretched thing STOP THAT!” He growled.
Finally, the stupid messy frother ground to a halt, and he wiped the nasty sticky drips off, got the hot chocolate put together, and went to take it to his sweet angel.
Only to have the mug slip from his hand with a sudden crash that got chocolate splashing everywhere, shattered the mug. He hissed a stream of curses in ancient Sumerian, staring down at the mess. He had no idea how it had slipped from his grip. Bloody thing had jumped.
“Are you all right, dear one?” Came a soft voice from the kitchen doorway. And there was his kind angel, with rumpled hair, eyes shining with gentleness and concern.
“I’m fine,” Crowley tried to growl, but it came out, to his horror and mortification as a sob. He shoved his fist in his mouth, and slid himself down along the wall until he was sitting with his knees hunched up. He hid his head against his arms and knees, still shuddering and sobbing.
“Oh my love,” said Aziraphale, sitting down beside him. With a quick snap, the angel miracled away the mess, then edged closer to Crowley, who scooted away a little.
“‘M sorry, Angel I just can’t… need the space.” Though the sobs came harder, as all Crowley really wanted to do was curl up with the Angel, but being confined, being touched was just ugh all kinds of no, he felt it might break him, and he already felt broken. “I don’t even know.”
“What I want is kebabs,” Crowley grumbled.
“We can order you some takeaway dear,” Aziraphale soothed.
“No!!!” Crowley threw back his head and wailed, the sobs coming faster. “I want the hummingbird kebabs they did in Pompeii. On that little side street by my place. Little crunchy fried birds on a stick!”
Aziraphale fluttered his hands helplessly as his demon sobbed heartbrokenly for street food that hadn’t existed in millennia.
Crowley looked up to meet his caring angel’s gaze for a moment. “It’s not you, I promise, I’m not mad at you.”
“Oh Crowley, my love, I know.” And Aziraphale looked into his eyes, and Crowley, through the wavering of tears, saw something like an idea taking shape in the angel’s mind. Aziraphale pulled himself to his feet.
“Dear one, I may have an idea that could help… if you don’t mind?” He asked, his tone gentle. He offered a hand to Crowley.
Crowley bit back a grumpy retort about how he was just going to feel rotten and he didn’t want his angel to put in the work to solve a problem that couldn’t be solved, and took the hand, and hauled himself to his feet with none of the usual grace. His corporation didn’t even feel like his own, all itchy and clumsy and stupid.
At this point, he’d be willing to try anything to make it stop. Earlier in the week, he’d tried to drink the feeling away, but the alcohol had only stung and smelled terrible, and he couldn’t even get down more than a shot. Ugh.
Aziraphale led Crowley into the bathroom and turned the shower on, scalding hot and full blast. “There now,” he said briskly. “In you get.”
Crowley, still sniffling, shucked out of his shirt and pajamas and stepped into the steaming spray.
The shower curtain twitched back and Aziraphale handed him a nubby loofah sponge. “Try this.”
Crowley let the water run onto his body and the loofah sponge, then dragged the sponge across himself and…oh. OH! It felt like he was scratching off layers of misery and rage, along with turning his corporation all sorts of streaky red. Oh yes. This was better. This was much better.
The sobs came back, this time mingled with rueful but slightly hysterical laughter. “I’m an idiot,” Crowley told himself.
He'd even had the thought "I wish I could just crawl out of my skin..." at the start of this whole rotten week, but had dismissed it as thinking in metaphor. Ugh.
He turned off the water, and toweled himself off. Brilliant Angel had replaced the usual soft plush towels with something a little scratchier, and Crowley reveled in it.
He got himself dried off, noticing the dull sheen of the scales that were starting to stretch across his skin, then let the transformation complete. He slithered around, rubbing against the scratchy towels, burrowing in.
He smelled Aziraphale before he saw him open the door and peer in. Aziraphale smiled fondly down at him. “Feeling better, sweet serpent?”
“Ssslightly. Need rockssss,”
“I rather thought you might. I have just the thing set up in your greenhouse. May I?” Aziraphale knelt and offered his arms to scoop up Crowley’s coils and the towels. Crowley burrowed in, enjoying the smell of his angel, and loving that Aziraphale knew to hold him loosely in this mood.
When they got to the roof garden, Crowley was surprised, and very touched to see that the greenhouse was rather bigger on the inside than it had been this morning. There was a small annex holding a rock garden with craggy rocks heaped in inviting piles around succulents, all warmed overhead by heat lamps shimmering in the night. When Aziraphale set him gently down, Crowley slithered into the rocks, letting them scrape against his sides and rid him of the itchy, horrible dead skin. And his horrible mood. He slithered and scraped, exploring the dark corners under the rock heaps, letting all his scales scratch against the nice rough surfaces.
Eventually, he emerged into the light, his new scales shining and sleek.
“This was jusssst what I needed. How did you know?” He asked his Angel, who nearly glowed and glittered in the warming lights.
“Oh my love, I know you’ve been blue all week, I could see it in your eyes.”