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Crowley abruptly stopped walking, hissed and started to rub at his right ankle, balancing on his other foot. They were on their way back from dinner and his body was starting to complain about having to carry him around all day. Aziraphale looked at him with concern in his eyes.
"Crowley my dear, are you okay?"
The demon waved his hand, trying not to fall over.
"Just pain, having a bad week." he said, digging in his fingers under the joint and stretching out his foot, grimacing as the pain got sharper.
"Why, what's wrong?" Aziraphale asked, growing more worried.
"Nothing, I don't think. Just kinda does that sometimes. Well, it always does that, but sometimes it gets worse. Sometimes it's because of something, but mostly it's for no real reason."
"But why?"
Crowley shrugged.
"I don't know. It's always been like this. Part of the vessel I think. Probably another punishment from Her."
He had felt it, ever since he had manifested in this human-ish form for the first time. It hurt. Not always the same, it moved in his joints and muscles, changed from stabbing to burning to acidic, from ignorable to unbearable. But it was always there.
"Don't really notice it anymore. Only when it gets worse."
He put his foot down again and resumed walking. The break hadn't done anything to make it better, but he figured that meant he also couldn't do much to make it worse, so he might as well continue. Anything to get away from this conversation.
Except he couldn't. Because now that Aziraphale knew about it of course he couldn't leave it be. Which is why he hadn't told him. Well, at first because it had been new to him as well and he still had to learn how to deal with it. And he hadn't known Aziraphale that well yet, couldn't yet show this sort of weakness around him. That habit stuck. He got used to masking it, ignoring it most of the time and hiding when it got worse. Him circling his wrists or shoulders, cracking his back, that was just part of his whole snakey-ness. And he communicated through sounds and noises all the time anyway, nobody would recognize a groan or hiss of pain as such. But many things had changed since the apocalypse that wasn't. It was a new world, heaven and hell had let them off the hook (‘for now’, he didn't think, because he didn't want to panic) and slowly they too were changing, settling into this new order, learning the steps to this new dance. Gradually Crowley was letting some of his guard down, which apparently entailed letting Aziraphale know about the pain that had been plaguing his body since the beginning.
"Are you coming dear?"
Crowley looked up at Aziraphale, confused "Coming where?"
"To get dinner of course! I'm feeling Italian today and there's this lovely little restaurant just a couple streets over."
Crowley groaned slightly "Do you mind if I don't? I'd rather not walk, my legs aren't really cooperating right now."
Actually they had reached the point where their legs wouldn't carry them anymore about two days ago. But Aziraphale didn't need to know such details.
"Oh of course my dear, why didn't you tell me sooner? We can simply order in, is Italian alright with you?"
Crowley nodded, surprised by Aziraphale's quick adjustment.
"Perfect. Now, you just stay there, I'll get it done."
With that Aziraphale hurried out of the room, presumably to make their orders. Crowley stayed on the couch, as they had been told, a bit perplexed. They didn't know what reaction they'd expected but it certainly wasn't this.
They were waiting for the bus to take them back to the bookshop. The problem was that this bus station had no bench or any other seating arrangement. Crowley would've loved to take credit for it, but he wasn't in the mood to feel proud over the humans' evil inventions. Not when they were currently inconveniencing him.
"Crowley my dear, would you stop that please? You're making me dizzy."
"Mmh, sorry."
Crowley stopped pacing. He had been walking in circles around the angel, listening to him talk about how much he'd enjoyed their little trip today. He came to a halt next to them, and Aziraphale resumed their chatter. Crowley started wriggling his legs, bending his knees until he was half squatting, straightening up again and shifting his weight from one leg to the other, shaking them out.
"What are you doing?"
Aziraphale was starting to sound a bit exasperated.
"Ngh, sorry. It's just, standing's no good. Knees get stiff, need to keep moving. Or sit down. Standing still hurts."
The angel's expression softened immediately "Oh, I apologize, I didn't realize. Here you go."
They snapped their fingers and a chair appeared next to them. Crowley raised an eyebrow and looked up at Aziraphale, knees bent so he was quite lower than his usual eye level.
"Doesn't that count as a frivolous miracle?"
"Oh come on, it's not like anyone's keeping count anymore. Besides, even if they were, this is very much a good deed."
Crowley shrugged and sat down on the chair. He let out a small sigh, glad to finally take the weight off his legs. He rubbed at his knees, which were starting to feel better already.
"Thanks." he muttered.
"Anytime dear." said the angel and smiled.
Crowley sat on the couch, her knees pulled up to her chest, a pillow squashed between her stomach and her thighs. She hated this. She really, really absolutely despised it. They grimaced and pulled their legs even closer to their chest.
Aziraphale looked at her and narrowed his eyes.
"Crowley, what's wrong."
It wasn't a question, not really. It didn't leave room for dismissal.
Crowley shifted "Pain. In my stomach. Hurts like a bitch."
Aziraphale looked only mildly annoyed at their language. Apparently Crowley looked bad enough to excuse cursing. Well shit. She must be even more pathetic than she thought.
"Could you explain it to me?" Aziraphale asked, looking like he was contemplating something.
Crowley huffed "What do you want to hear? That it feels like someone impaled me with a sword? Ran me through completely, twisted it and then pulled it out and left me, guts spilling and bleeding out?"
Crowley threw their head back and closed their eyes. She knew she was being dramatic. But bless it, it really did hurt that much.
Aziraphale however didn't look like he thought Crowley was being dramatic. On the contrary, it seemed to make sense to him.
"I am really sorry, that sounds rather awful." he hesitated for a second "If I may, what you are describing sounds a lot like what certain humans go through, I think."
Crowley looked up at him "I know humans experience pain angel. If you remember it used to be my job to cause it. Demon, you know?"
Aziraphale gave him a sharp look.
"I am trying to help you, dear."
Crowley felt a pang of guilt.
"I know. Sorry. Irritated."
"Don't worry, I understand. Now, as I was saying. Certain humans with certain biological functions experience a similar thing, more or less regularly. If I remember correctly-"
"I know what periods are, angel, I've been around just as long as you."
"Yes, well. Don't you think that that might be what you are experiencing?"
Crowley frowned "Why would it? I don't have the same parts as the humans. I don't bleed. There's no reason why I should."
"Yes, of course. But you have been presenting more feminine a lot lately, in terms of your body as well. I can, of course, only speak from personal experience, but I have found that whenever I take on a female-like form, after a while it begins to affect me, too. Not as badly as you, evidently, but quite similarly, I think."
"You think I've accidentally manifested a menstrual cycle? That doesn’t even make any sense, this also happens when I’m not a woman. And sometimes doesn’t happen when I am."
"I think it comes, well, with the body. Now, of course, not all human women bleed, and also not all humans who bleed are women, the real correlation is with the biology, not the gender. So if you’re mirroring the biology, regardless of gender, it does make sense, doesn’t it?"
Crowley groaned and let their head fall on their knees.
"Great. Just what I needed." her voice was muffled but she didn't care "Figures it would be this bad. There are plenty of humans who don't suffer from it. Plenty that manage just fine. 'Course I would get the worst of it again."
Aziraphale tutted "Now, don't be so hard on yourself. Humans had a lot of time to figure out how to get used to it, dealing with it fairly regularly. If you're only affected by it occasionally it's no wonder you don't know all the tricks. Here."
Crowley looked up and Aziraphale handed her a steaming mug. They eyed it suspiciously.
"What's this?"
"Oh don't fret. It's hot milk, with some honey in it. I find that drinking something warm always helps me with the cramps and I've heard others say the same. I know you're not one for cocoa or tea, but I figured this wouldn't be too much against your tastes."
Crowley took a careful sip of the beverage. It was hot, as Aziraphale had promised, but miraculously it burned neither her hand not her tongue. It was rather sweet, but not sickeningly so. Crowley wouldn't admit it but the angel had been right, they actually liked the taste quite a lot.
"Thanks." she murmured, drinking some more.
"Of course my dear. Now is there anything you're up for? Watching a movie perhaps? That way you can stay curled up over there and it'll take your mind off the pain."
Crowley didn't really know what to do with this much consideration, so she just nodded.
"Uhh, sure. Sounds good to me."
Aziraphale smiled "Wonderful. Now, you just stay there and drink up, I'll get it ready."
They were visiting Tadfield. For some reason all the folks who had helped avert the apocalypse insisted on staying in contact. Something about shared experiences. It didn't make a lot of sense to Crowley, but here he was, taking a walk on a winter afternoon through a snowy Hogback Lane. He had been rather grumpy all day, very much against this trip, but Aziraphale had insisted and so Crowley had driven them here. The angel was currently walking a couple steps in front of him, engaged in a conversation with Anathema and Newt. The kids and the hellhound where running around, playing in the snow and yelling, sometimes at each other, sometimes at the adults, or seemingly just for fun. Crowley let out a small hiss, shifting his walk to drag his left leg. His joints were not a fan of the cold. It made them stiff, made them hurt, like he was being stabbed with thousands of tiny needles made of ice. Bless it, he really was old, wasn't he? Or maybe just cold blooded. He grimaced and hissed again.
Suddenly Aziraphale turned their head to look at him, concern in their eyes. Crowley blinked back at them in confusion. It looked like Aziraphale wanted to ask him something, but in that moment Adam ran up to them and started talking in rapid fire, drawing the angel's attention away.
Crowley massaged his right hip absentmindedly. What had that been about?
It was a sunny spring day, one that would've been described as beautiful and perfect by someone who cared, but one that only registered to Crowley as crowded, as they were walking through St. James's Park with Aziraphale. Even on better days he didn't care much for this sort of thing and today was an especially bad day. Their pain had flared up last week and hadn't subsided since. This time was especially bad. His whole body felt like it was on fire. It felt like acid was coursing through their veins, running through every muscle, every joint, their body slowly being torn apart from the inside. No matter what he tried to do, how he tried to distribute his weight, it didn't help. Every single minute movement hurt.
Originally they didn't want to leave the flat. They didn't even want to get up. He wanted to stay curled up in his bed, not move for the rest of the week, sleep until the pain went away. Or at least got better. They would settle for bearable.
But then Aziraphale had called him and asked if he wanted to take a walk, chattering away about what a lovely day it was. And how was Crowley supposed to say no to that?
So now here they were, talking a walk in St. James's Park, cursing every single step they had to take. He wished he could just sit down on one of the benches. Though sitting would hurt too, having to hold up his body. Lie down perhaps. No, the bench would be incredibly uncomfortable. On the ground, maybe? Ah, who was he kidding. The only thing he wanted was to be back in his bed. Except that wasn't right either. They wanted to be with Aziraphale. They wanted to be with Aziraphale and they wanted to be able to enjoy being with Aziraphale. All it would take for that was for his muscles to stop hurting.
But they didn't. In fact they grew more and more tired and with that Crowley began to walk more and more slowly.
They reached the steps – who put bloody steps in a park, did they have no concept of accessibility (the answer was demons, probably) - and Aziraphale started skipping up the stairs excitedly, taking two steps at once, as usual. Normally Crowley would've kept up with him, tried to be even faster, just to annoy him. But not today. Today they were taking one step at a time, like any normal person. Soon Aziraphale was a good three steps ahead of him, still talking on about where they should get dinner later, and Crowley resigned himself to catching up eventually. They really couldn't bear walking any faster now.
But he didn't have to. Aziraphale, without breaking off their conversation even for a second, slowed his steps and adjusted them to Crowley's, the two of them once again walking side by side, one step at a time.
Crowley looked at him quizzically. He wanted to ask about it but Aziraphale kept walking next to him, perfectly in sync, like it was the most normal thing in the world. A warm feeling flooded Crowley's chest that they did their best to push down. He decided not to comment on it.
They were on their way back from the theatre. It was a reimagining of sorts of Goethe's 'Faust', if it could even still be called that. It didn't have much to do with the original anymore, but Aziraphale had wanted to try something new and Crowley had relented.
Unfortunately this meant that they were now standing at the crowded station waiting for the Tube to arrive.
Crowley had her arms wrapped around her middle, his posture even more hunched than usual. He had done everything he could, even taken human pain meds, but the cramps were persisting. Her others pains had flared up too, they often did when this happened. She wanted to rip out her guts to make it stop, but he knew it wouldn't do much beyond discorporating him.
Aziraphale paused in his analysis of the play and looked at her.
"What is it this time?" he asked, smiling at him kindly.
Crowley did not know how to handle that.
"Ngk. You really do notice it every time, don't you?" she asked with a small laugh.
Aziraphale looked stricken.
"Well, I-. you know I just-" he waved his hands around, desperately trying to communicate something.
Crowley felt dread rising in him. He tried to explain, words getting tangled up in her throat and stumbling out of his mouth, all in the wrong order and wrong shape.
"Yeah no I just- mhh- I'm not used it you know? Like, someone noticing? Nh- but you do? Like every time and it's just- ngh."
Tears were welling up in Aziraphale's eyes. Crowley hated himself more with every passing second.
"Nevermind." the angel whispered, turning away.
(“Of course I notice it more when it’s you.” he whispered, which Crowley did not hear, too preoccupied with his own thoughts.)
She wanted to scream. Stupid, he thought, how could she be so fucking stupid. He had hurt Aziraphale, sweet, precious, pure Aziraphale, who had just wanted to be kind, nothing but kind, always. Crowley didn't know how to deal with such kindness, not used to it being directed at her like that. But now he had ruined it, had hurt Aziraphale by lashing out at him, making fun of him, defending herself against the overwhelming unfamiliarity of it the only way he knew how. She wanted to apologize, wanted to explain, but he knew he'd only make it worse. He was evil by nature, it was no surprise she ruined everything, hurt everyone he lo- everyone she cared ab- everyone he came in contact with. Of course it would come this way.
Crowley turned away too and for a while they stood in silence. When the blessed Tube finally came and they had seated themselves a tentative conversation resumed, and by the time they were back in Soho everything was almost back to normal again.
There was an art exhibition at a nearby museum that Aziraphale had insisted they must visit. Which would've been fine. Except that visiting museums involved a lot more walking than one would think. Crowley hissed and rubbed his knee. He tried to lean against the wall in a way that would take the weight off both of his legs, which of course didn't work entirely as he was currently standing on them. He'd been feeling bloody awful all week and it had gotten worse with every day. His legs felt like heavy bags of sand, dragging him down.
"Are you okay?"
Crowley's ears heard the words, his brain however did not process them immediately.
"Hm?"
"Are you okay?" Aziraphale asked once again, softly.
Crowley looked up at him.
"Nhh. Pain flare up this week. From an average of three to like an average of seven."
He wasn't a fan of the pain scale, found it too ambiguous, but it could be a useful tool of comparison. He didn't say that currently it was actually more of a nine.
"Oh."
The angel looked at him and Crowley nearly melted. Her expression was so gentle, so full of open and honest care. The demon didn't know how to deal with all that being for him. It made him want to weep, made him want to fall into Aziraphale’s arms and be held by her and hold her in return. He was utterly undeserving of such care, he knew it and so did Aziraphale, she must. He had hurt the angel before, but she still cared just the same. She still looked at him like she wished she could make all of Crowley's pains disappear forever. The warm feeling arose in his chest again. He wanted to deserve it. He wanted to deserve it because that's what Aziraphale deserved. To have her care appreciated and be cared for just as much in return. Crowley wanted to do that. He wanted to care for Aziraphale, wanted her to know that he did. He didn't know how. He wasn't good with feelings, not with feeling them and even worse with expressing them. But he was filled with the desperate longing to show Aziraphale how much he appreciated this, how much it meant to him that since before the beginning nobody had cared enough to even notice, but she did, always, and did everything she could to make it better. It meant the world to Crowley. He wanted to return it.
They were having a quiet evening at the bookshop. Both of them had made suggestions as to what they could do, but neither of them really felt like going out. Eventually they somehow wound up on the sofa in an animated discussion about ducks.
"They are definitely one of ours! Look at them, they're as evil as any demon! Eviler than most, probably. More evil? Eviler? Whatever. That." Crowley waved their hand to emphasise their point.
Aziraphale responded just as passionately "I'm telling you, dear boy, all living things are creations of the Allmighty, thus they belong to Heaven. Furthermore they have no free will, such as the humans, and therefore they do not have the capacity to be wicked!"
"Nah, they definitely know what they're doing, they're clever enough, the evil bastards-"
Crowley, preparing for their next argument, drew in a deep breath, but before they could speak they winced and doubled over in pain.
"Crowley! What's wrong dear, are you okay?" Aziraphale sounded almost panicked.
Crowley waived him off, trying to straighten up, pressing a hand to their chest.
"Ngh, yeah, fine, just- mmh- feels like someone just stabbed a dagger into my lungs." they started prodding at their ribs, exaggerating their breaths to give them access to the hurting muscles.
This didn't seem to reassure Aziraphale at all.
"Ah, I think it's 'cause I- ngk, 'cause don't actually need to breathe, so- nh- sometimes it goes wrong. Lungs aren't used to uh, being used, so sometimes air gets like, stuck or something."
They breathed in deeply again, sucking in their guts. Then they reached in with their hand under their ribcage, as far as their fingers would go and exhaled slowly, prodding at the muscles between their ribs from the inside now.
"And you're sure that's alright? It looks quite painful, especially what you're doing now." Aziraphale asked carefully.
"'S fine. Gotta get the air out manually. Mmhh- force it out basically, get it unstuck."
"Alright, if you're sure. I just wouldn't want you to hurt yourself."
Crowley removed their hand and exhaled forcefully, pushing all the air out from their lungs. They looked up at Aziraphale.
"Probably looks worse than it is. I'm better now, it's all fine."
They hesitated for a moment, looking away, and when they spoke it was quiet and rushed, afraid of the effects the words might have.
"I um- I really appreciate it, you know. You uh, worrying about me like that. Means a lot."
"But of course dear." Crowley looked up and Aziraphale was smiling at them, not his angelic, all-loving smile but a more personal, more honest smile, one that was reserved only for Crowley. It made them want to burst into tears, but instead they smiled back, hoping that it conveyed all that they didn't know how to say.
Before the moment could last too long, reach a point where they would have to talk about it more, where they couldn't just move on like nothing happened Aziraphale broke off the eye contact, and Crowley too blinked and looked away.
The angel made a small noise, as if to reorient himself and when he spoke his tone was that of their usual light banter.
"Now, about the ducks, as I was saying-"
They fell back into their discussion, but Crowley didn't forget what had happened, never. They kept this moment tucked away in their aching chest, close to their heart. Proof that Aziraphale cared, and that he knew that they did too.