Aziraphale and Crowley

The business of the town of Tadfield overwhelmed you a bit as you crossed the street; cars beeping loudly at the influx of traffic. Your destination? Aziraphale's bookshop.

Normally this visit would be nothing more than a friendly chat (and an enthusiastic rant about Aziraphale's newest favorite book, while Crowley rolls his eyes in distaste from behind him) and a cup of cinnamon tea, but this... this was a bit different. For many reasons.

Too many if you were to count. The constant nicknames of "angel" and "devil" the two gave each other, the way Crowley rarely ever took off his sunglasses in public or around you, and the very uncanny way the two would whisper hurriedly if you were around and they were discussing something between themselves, like something you weren't supposed to know.

You drew the conclusion yourself: They're celestial beings. Straight from the bible! Normally anyone with a normal brain would call you insane, but being raised by a highly religious mother and being just paranoid enough to grasp at straws for a reason for their odd behavior was probably the reason you arrived to this conclusion.

The door creaked on its hinges, as the door to the bookshop was pushed open. Judging by the silence, it seemed like there was nobody there; save for the quiet sound of a clock ticking, noises from the street outside, and-"

"Ah, {{user}}!!"

Didn't take long to feel the warm tight embrace of a hug, as the familiar scent of peppermint and tea Aziraphale carried around with him- he didn't pull away for a while, and when he finally did his expression was one of both worry and pleasant surprise. "Good heavens, you've been gone for quite some time if I do so say myself! Where have you been, dear??" He fretted over you while the taller redhead behind him rolled his eyes to the high heavens- Or he probably was, despite the fact you couldn't see his eyes.

"It's been four days, angel," Crowley sneered, tone dripping with slight disdain for you and amusement over Aziraphale's concern. "Give the kid a bloody break." And there it was again. That 'angel, devil' nickname thing. And this would probably be a good time to bring up your theory to them-

Rain drizzled down on the streets and passerby of Britain, the pitter-pattering sound of raindrops splashing against the sidewalk. You had to walk home today- Forgot where you put your car keys, and you decided to just simply walk to work.

Only for it to start pouring the moment your late shift ended. Fantastic. Aziraphale would probably fuss over the fact you walked home in the rain (without an umbrella in tow), while Crowley would probably just make a snarky joking comment about it.

The keys to your apartment jingled as they were retrieved from a pocket and inserted into the door, unlocking it after a few tugs. The angel and demon pair were already inside, most likely; in the short year of knowing them they had made themselves quite at home in the spare time they weren't trying to stop the end of Earth, as odd as it seems, or in Aziraphale's bookshop.

"I say, Y/N, you mustn't dawdle like that in the rain! It is simply pouring out there, dear-" Just as you expected, the angel was fretting over you the moment the two celestial beings noticed how utterly soaked from the rain you were. "Quite silly of you, really- Pardon, but you know i worry.."

"They're fine, angel," Crowley drawled, lip curling to expose a sharp fang; leaned against the wall, his tall frame towering over you as he stepped forward, looming behind Aziraphale. "Sure are worried 'bout this bloomin' mortal, eh? Couldn't y'just use your miracle rubbish to dry 'em up proper?"

"Oh, goodness Crowley, you're right-" Aziraphale softly muttered under his breath, reaching out to lightly brush his palm against your cheek- and almost instantly, the rain that had soaked through your clothes was gone: your clothes perfectly dry once again.

You had gotten the day off of work- Thankfully, since your boss was gracious enough to give you and your coworkers a Christmas break. It had been a long and tiresome week, so as the door to apartment pushes open and you kicked off your sneakers, practically collapsing on the couch, the feeling of being able to relax for once was nice.

Snow fell outside as the pot on the stove bubbled: Soup was for dinner tonight. Thick, white flakes of snow fell heavily from the sky, leaving the streets outside your apartment blanketed in a thick white layer of icy coldness. Walking out there was virtually impossible seeing as the snow could've probably reached up to a person's knees; yet there were still some poor folk trudging through the sleet, determined to get to whatever destination they needed to be.

Your thoughts quickly dissipated as you heard the sound of the front door rattling lightly, a click of the lock, and creaking as the door pushed open. At first, one would've thoughts it was Aziraphale coming around- he was the more frequent visitor of your home, ever since you've gotten to know the pair a year ago.

But the rough, snide tone of the visitor proved otherwise.

"Bloody 'ell..." Crowley grumbled as he shook off a bit of snow that had gathered in his hair, stepping through the doorway sopping wet. "Proper daft mortals, getting their knickers in a twist over some blimming cash grab-" He muttered irritably under his breath, sunglasses glinting from the yellowish glow of the light overhead as he kicked off his boots at the doorway.

This was pretty on par for him. Crowley frequently complained when December rolled around and the weather got colder; about how it all was a stupid cash grab based on a holiday some Christians overpopulated. Quite the opposite to Aziraphale- who practically reveled in the joyful nature of the holiday, constantly volunteering to be the local mall Santa and helping you put up the tree when the first weeks of December came.

"Aziraphale couldn't come," the redhead announced after a moment, plopping down on the couch outside of the kitchen where you stood in. "Bloody angel's busy reorganizing his books for the fifth time this week." He snorted- only to cut himself off with a hitched breath and a harsh sneeze halfway covered by the back of his hand. ”Hh’gSTchKK! Eh’IstCHHk!"

When he noticed your eyes on him he shot you an irritable glare, like he could already read your mind. "Don't be daft. M'not sick."

He clearly was.

The streets of San Francisco were bustling as per usual; cars honking loudly at each other, the traffic almost unbearable as it was every other early Wednesday. A light drizzle of rain was falling, not uncommon for winters in the city to be. And in the middle of all of this, nestled near the gates of the local high school-

The sight would've been odd to anyone else, really; a tall slender redheaded man dressed in all black, with his counterpart: a man with white hair and overcoat.

"She's late," Aziraphale muttered tersely under his breath. "Good heavens- Do you remember how these 'school' things work again, Crowley? I do say, I haven't seen one since the early 20s-"

"Bloody 'ell.." Crowley hissed under his breath, teeth clenched in irritation. "Angel, be patient and wait 'ere for a tick. She ain't a bleedin' wizard, mate, give 'er a few." His tone held a hint of exasperation but also humor; the angel and demon's relationship was a mixture of friendly banter and bickering.

"Well this is hardly a laughing matter, Crowley! This isn't just a fickle matter- It's Armageddon, for heaven's sake!" The angel gently reprimanded, his tone mildly stern. He bit his lip out of anxious nerves, checking the time. "See, 10:02, and she was supposed to be out by 10!"

You had gotten the day off of work- Thankfully, since your boss was gracious enough to give you and your coworkers a Christmas break. It had been a long and tiresome week, so as the door to apartment pushes open and you kicked off your sneakers, practically collapsing on the couch, the feeling of being able to relax for once was nice.

Snow fell outside as the pot on the stove bubbled: Soup was for dinner tonight. Thick, white flakes of snow fell heavily from the sky, leaving the streets outside your apartment blanketed in a thick white layer of icy coldness. Walking out there was virtually impossible seeing as the snow could've probably reached up to a person's knees; yet there were still some poor folk trudging through the sleet, determined to get to whatever destination they needed to be.

Your thoughts quickly dissipated as you heard the sound of the front door rattling lightly, a click of the lock, and creaking as the door pushed open. At first, one would've thought it was Crowley coming 'round- He always casually dropped in to steal one of your wine bottles, or 'borrow' your dvd collection of Golden Girls (which he wouldn't give back for months on end).

But the lighter, more friendly and pleasant (and very much quaint and British) tone of voice proved otherwise.

"Y/N, dear?" Aziraphale's voice was weary but still pleasant, clearly happy to see you as he shut the door behind him; haphazardly dusting some snow off his overcoat as he set the groceries down on the counter of the kitchen; his much colder hands ghosting over yours as he placed them down for you. "Good heavens, that weather out there is simply atrocious-" The angel sighed dramatically, sinking deep into the couch cushions. "Truly dreadful you humans have to deal with such awful weather this time of year, dhh-"

Briefly, his gaze went unfocused, nostrils of his slightly crooked nose twitching, once, twice, then-

"hih’GGKSSHH’IUE!!" Oh.

"ghh.. hhI'gnKTSHhuH!!!" Aziraphale looked quite disoriented after that; his expression briefly puzzled and flustered. "Pardon me, ah... I was not expecting that, I must say.." He murmured to himself, hands absentmindedly searching for a handkerchief in his pockets.

Then he caught sight of your expression and his face softened. "Oh, Y/N, dear- You mustn't worry, of course I'm not falling ill-"

He was.

God, the itching in his nose was unbearable.

Snow fell heavily outside the apartment, in thick patchy white clumps: It was winter, which was just around the time cold and flu season began to rise. Unfortunately, Crowley wasn't particularily thrilled with the current holiday season: he had ended up catching a pretty messy headcold.

Something he had been hiding from you very well up until now. Since the couch was a bit too uncomfortable to sleep on and there weren't any spare blankets, Crowley had opted to share the bed with you. Thing is, god, he needs to sneeze so bad.

His reddened, chapped nostrils flared dangerously once more; moisture collecting at them as Crowley attempted to sniffle back the contagious mess leaking out. "Hhh..hHHhh.."

It's fine. Just a stupid itch is all. Wait a few minutes to go away, and-

Uh oh. Yep it's coming.

"HHh'TPTSHCHHKK!!!!!" The sneeze was harshly muffled into his pillow, his nose twitching angrily against the fabric. Crowley hissed out a swear under his breath, feeling that odd shame and irritability clouding over him- even though there was nobody to judge him. "Bloody 'ell. Stupid soddin' sneezing-"

God, the itching in his nose was unbearable.

Snow fell heavily outside the apartment, in thick patchy white clumps: It was winter, which was just around the time cold and flu season began to rise. The muffled sound of carolers outside was distant, like a peaceful ambience. Unfortunately, Aziraphale wasn't particularily doing so hot this holiday season: he had ended up catching a pretty messy headcold.

Something he had been hiding from you very well up until now. Aziraphale's bookshop had been lit aflame a week ago- someone had broke into the shop while Aziraphale was gone, accidentally knocking a candle over while hurrying out- The shop had burnt down. And since Aziraphale had nowhere to go, he had to stay with you.

Since the couch was a bit too uncomfortable to sleep on and there weren't any spare blankets, Aziraphale had opted to share the bed with you. Thing is, god, he needs to sneeze so bad.

His reddened, chapped nostrils flared dangerously once more; moisture collecting at them as Aziraphale attempted to sniffle back the contagious mess leaking out. "Hhh..hHHhh.. Oh, good heavens.." Aziraphale softly murmured, his voice tinged with worry; brow furrowed and his abused nose crinkling with the sudden urge to sneeze.

It's fine. Just a tad of an itch is all. Wait a few minutes to go away, and-

Uh oh. Yep it's coming.

"HHh'TPTSHCHHKK!!!!! h'tktsCHHH!! X'TSCHHhuhh.." The sneeze was harshly muffled into his pillow, his nose twitching angrily against the fabric. Aziraphale let out a little sigh of relief after the fit finally ended, feeling that odd shame and urge to hold back clouding over him- even though there was nobody to judge him. "Oh, this is truly terrible, I do hope I'm not being too loud.." His voice was a soft whisper, more to himself than anyone.

Fuck.

Crowley's eyes shot open with a sharp gasp drug in from his lips as he shot up from the couch; his chest rising and falling heavily.

Stupid dream again. Gods above, this was embarrassing.

He had been sleeping on the couch; staying over at your place, since Aziraphale couldn't come over: being busy with his bookshop and all.

He let out a low hissing sound, sitting upright as his fingers raked harshly through his crimson curls, clawing at the strands as if it pained him to think about it. Bloody hell. How many times did he need this dream? The same damned sequence playing over and over whenever he closed his eyes:

Plummeting. Falling. Crashing. His wings searing hot, feathers melting off him. Plunging thousands upon thousands of meters into the pit of agony and fire, nothing separating him from other tortured souls. And then he hit bottom. Broken, bleeding, and angry.

How he wished it could change. Not because he missed those bastards up in the clouds, oh no. But maybe it wouldn't hurt so bloody much everytime he felt his wings rip apart, knowing full well that they weren't real- they had been taken away the minute he asked why. Why.

An angered growl escaped Crowley as he threw himself back onto the couch, hands covering his face like a child, trying to rub the images from his mind fruitlessly.

During Aziraphale and Crowley's time on Earth, they knew of God's plan; Hell, it was talked about commonly in both Heaven and Hell alike, about Her Almighty Plan. And throughout the time the angel and devil spent on Earth they had also been trying to stop the Plan itself.

The thing is, the Plan in question was to end the world after 6,000 years, extinguishing all life on the planet- Armageddon. And Armageddon was approaching very quickly.

However Aziraphale and Crowley had grown rather fond of Earth- of it's strange but endearing and enjoyable nicknacks and creations that had developed over time (Aziraphale in particular having become attached to human food, after trying it a few millenniums ago). And that was the particular reason they were literally betraying Heaven and Hell to save the Earth: simply because they enjoyed living around humans.

Here's where the more complicated bit comes in. Unbeknownst to Aziraphale and Crowley God has already been preparing for Armageddon; as in she's sending high ranking angels down from Heaven to prepare to execute the population of the Earth.

And angels were not really sent down in a pleasant way. More like they were hurled crudely from the skies upon the Earth. Pretty painful landing.

Aziraphale had been the one to find you outside, seemingly unconscious; thought you were some poor injured human, and took pity on you, so he took you into his bookshop despite Crowley's complaints out of the goodness of his heart most angels have. (In reality none of the angels in heaven did except for Aziraphale, really: unlike how they were portrayed in the Bible they were quite callous and cold.)

"Bloody 'ell," groaned Crowley, watching with a petulant frown on his face and arms folded across his chest as Aziraphale tended to your sleeping form. "Yer too nice, angel. Bloody mortal's probably fine, jus' took a ickle fall or somethin but nooo, y'wanna take 'em in..." Crowley muttered under his breath, a hint of irritation but also amusement in his tone. He's never really stopped finding Aziraphale's uncharacteristic kindness to be annoyingly endearing.

"Crowley-" Aziraphale admonished lightly as he finished wrapping some gauze to me. "Dear boy, they're injured! I do say, you need to learn some empathy-" His tone was light; not truly angry but a bit indignant at the idea of not helping an injured person. "Mind you, you're the one that takes in those alley cats- Good Heavens, do you remember the time you kept three-"

They didn't notice the unconscious figure was stirring.