Chapter Text
“Crowley,” Aziraphale huffed, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead, his fingers trembling. “I’m–”
“If you say you’re fine one more time, I’m going to trip you.” Crowley tightened his grip around Aziraphale’s waist, steering him in the right direction down the shadowed path of the graveyard. “Drinking that Laudanum was a stupid thing to do, angel, even though the size-changing bit you pulled off was pretty impressive.”
Aziraphale pouted, his feet dragging as he walked.
“I – I panicked . And it was … a good thing.”
Crowley breathed a short laugh out of his nose. “Just because it was a good thing doesn’t mean it wasn’t stupid. I doubt you’ll get a commendation from heaven for it, but you did save that girl’s life,” Crowley paused to turn Aziraphale towards him, looking into his eyes. “So at least you'll get a commendation from me.”
Aziraphale’s mouth began to quirk into a happy smile, but it was cut off by a grimace before it could fully express itself.
“Everything alright?”
“Oh,” Aziraphale said, pressing his still-trembling fingers over his eyes. “My head .”
“It’s that laudanum in your system,” Crowley growled, and wheeled around in circles looking for a good spot to sit Aziraphale down. “Come here.”
Aziraphale let himself be led to a stone bench in the middle of a few gravestones. Crowley hovered around him, and watched him breathe.
“Just rest until the poison starts to naturally leave you,” Crowley instructed. “It can give you a pretty bad headache, though. Sorry.”
“Nonsense,” Aziraphale said, swiping a hand over his face, trying to banish any outward expression of discomfort. “I’m perfectly fine. In fact, I rather think that just sitting here for a moment has made me feel much better. Yes, I’m quite ... recovered.”
Crowley balked at him. “You’re – a terrible liar, angel.”
“Angels do not lie,” Aziraphale snapped, pain making him irritable. “Now, It’s a good idea for you to go back to … wherever it is you’re staying. I’m sure that heaven took notice of all my … lots of miracles,” Aziraphale struggled through his sentences, laudanum clouding his thoughts and locking his usually extensive vocabulary up behind bars. “I don’t need you to help me, Crowley,” Aziraphale continued, his voice softening. “I can take care of myself.”
Crowley paused for a moment before answering, all sincerity, “Aziraphale, just because you can take care of yourself, doesn’t mean you have to. I … well, I want to. And who cares if heaven takes notice of your little display; I can take care of them, too. If you catch my drift.”
Aziraphale’s eyebrows turned up in the center as he looked at Crowley, his wide eyes glittering in the moonlight. “You would do that? For me?”
“Yeah. I would.”
“Why?”
Crowley shrugged. “Why not?”
“It could be, um…,” Aziraphale’s hands flailed as he searched for the right word. “Bad? For you?”
“Dangerous?” Crowley supplied.
“Yeah, that. Dangerous.”
Crowley smiled. “I can handle it, angel. Now, come on, let’s get you somewhere to take care of that head of yours.”
“Oh, could we?” Aziraphale moaned. “It is actually painful. I lied.”
Crowley laughed, helping Aziraphale stand. “Trust me angel – I know.”