Chapter Text
The clap of thunder startles Aziraphale and he almost drops the book he’s been reading. He looks out the window, another bolt of lightning splits the dark sky, new thunder right on its heels.
One of the shingles up on the roof clatters with the gusts of wind and he makes a little mental note for them to fix it. Crowley had explicitly forbidden any miracles for home improvement, let alone garden work. And while Aziraphale thought him to be ridiculous about it, he indulged him. If only to avoid Crowley’s grumpy huffs.
New thunder roars, closer than the first one, as the storm creeps across the South Down.
After the third one, he hears it. Softly, barely audible, but there.
He puts the book to the side and listens. Waits for the next lightning-thunder-duet. A quiet little moan, a whimper. Close by. One room over. Crowley.
Aziraphale stands and strides to his door, hand on the handle. Like that he waits for the next roll of thunder. Again, a little hiss, a muffled cry.
Out in the short hallway, the sounds become clearer and even more so when he stands in front of Crowley’s room, the door closed.
The thunder comes again and with it the sounds. Pained? Agonizing? Aziraphale reaches out for the handle but stops himself. What if it is not pain or agony but something else? What if Crowley is….
Aziraphale does have experience with those kinds of things but he has no experience with Crowley. Does he do these kinds of things? If so, what does he sound like? Does he sound like that?
Willing to take the risk of finding out first hand - probably quite literally, if that’s the case - Aziraphale raises a hand and knocks. Quietly. Just to be safe.
He receives no answer.
He knocks again, harder this time.
Again, no answer.
Puffing out a breath, he turns the handle and pushes the door open. The room beyond is dark, deliberately so, with dark walls and floor, heavy curtains blocking out light. Not all of it, though. A small sliver pours it, slithering and quivering as the tree outside the window moves in the wind.
“Crowley….,” he says as softly as he can manage.
Crowley is laying in bed and he’s not doing those kinds of things. He’s asleep, curled up facing away, the blanket tangled around his hips and legs.
Aziraphale tries not to look, tries not to take in all the long lines, the sharp curve of Crowley’s waist, the angle of his shoulders.
Shoulders that twitch and shake and it’s not an illusion from the light.
Once more, thunder rumbles and Crowley’s entire being convulses and he curls together, one knee drawn up, his face pressed into the pillow. And he makes those sounds again. Pain. Agony.
Before he can think better of it, Aziraphale is at his side, one hand on his trembling shoulder. “Crowley… wake up.”
Crowley jerks, turns and lashes out at the same time, golden eyes wide with fear. His hair is tousled and matted to his forehead in places, teeth bared in a hiss.
Aziraphale blocks the sloppy blow easily, taking hold of Crowley’s wrist to keep him from striking again.
“Crowley, dear… it’s me…” He tries to make his voice as soft as possible. “You had a nightmare.”
“Angel….” Crowley sounds far away and not quite awake yet.
“Yes… I called your name but…”
“Did I hit you?” Crowley looks from his still raised fist to Aziraphale, the horror on his face softening into concern.
“What? No, darling. You didn’t.” Aziraphale opens his fingers and Crowley pulls - no, he shrinks away, back pressed against the back wall, knees pulled up against his body. “Are you alright?”
“I…” Crowley’s shoulder twitches in a shrug as he falls silent.
“I heard you,” Aziraphale starts, trying to bridge the tense silence. “Couldn’t really be certain with the storm outside but… then I listened at your door. I wasn’t sure if… then you cried out and I… I had to wake you.”
Crowley nods slowly. “Thanks. I… sometimes I can’t get out of it, so... “
Aziraphale looks at him for a moment. “Can I do anything? Get you anything?”
“No…. no, I should be alright now.”
“Right. Good. Well…” He takes a few steps until his back hits the open door. “You know where to find me… in case….” He already has his fingers on the handle when Crowley speaks.
“Angel… could you stay?”
Aziraphale tries his best not to let his surprise show. Even though they’d been sharing this house - and more and more along the way recently - for over a year now, some things were still… well, not done. Such as staying in the other’s bedroom for longer than a “could you help me with this shelf, I don’t want to use a miracle”.
“Of course,” he says, a little more unassertive than he likes. “I could, uhm… I could read?”
Crowley nods wordlessly.
“I’ll be right back, then.”
Almost a little hurriedly, Aziraphale returns to his bedroom. His book is right where he’s left it but he hesitates to pick it up. His mind reels a bit; Crowley and nightmares and asking him to stay with him. What should he do? Should he sit on the bed? Bring a chair?
They were working their way towards one another slowly but surely, yes. They spend time together, of course, sometimes sharing space, and on more and more frequent occasions even touches but this… this was different. This was… intimate. Wasn’t it?
Trying to not let his nerves get the better of him, Aziraphale reaches for his book and makes his way back to Crowley’s bedroom.
Crowley, who still sits in the same position, crouched against the headboard but now he’s wearing a black sleeveless shirt, arms wrapped around his knees, hands clenching his bare arms.
“You got dressed,” Aziraphale states the obvious.
“I sleep naked. Thought that might be weird.”
“Oh.”
Aziraphale tries not to picture that, tries not to let his body react to that. Also why hasn’t that occurred to him before? It has been rather obvious in hindsight.
“Do you…” Crowley nods at the space on the mattress beside him.
“Yes, of course.” Almost gingerly Aziraphale sits down on the edge of the bed. While it has taken some getting used to, he has started wearing more comfortable clothes around the house, softer trousers, jumpers over his shirts, slippers on his sock-clad feet. Today he is actually glad to have made this decision as he settles back against the headboard. “Can I…” He gestures at his feet that are still on the floor.
“Yeah, sure.” It’s not physically possible but somehow Crowley seems to pull back even more.
A little awkwardly, Aziraphale pulls his feet up on the bed, fidgeting with the book in his lap. The air between them feels tight, loaded with tension like the rain clouds outside.
“Thank you,” Crowley says eventually. Aziraphale looks at him. “For waking me.”
“Yes, you said that.” Aziraphale ponders his options. “May I ask you something?”
Crowley nods.
“Do you have them often? The bad dreams?”
For a long moment, Crowley remains quiet. “For as long as I can remember. They’ve always been there. Ever since the…” He makes a nose-dive motion with his finger.
“You…,” Aziraphale shifts in his seat to look at him. “All this time? But you… you choose to sleep. I don’t understand.”
“With the state of the world sometimes… I’d rather sleep and risk…. it’s the lesser of two evils, don’t you think?” Crowley shrugs. “It’s usually not… not so bad. Think it must be the weather.”
“Crowley…,” Aziraphale starts, almost reaching out for Crowley but he pulls his hand back before he can touch him.
“I don’t… I don't want to talk about it. Not… not yet anyway. Can we not…”
“That’s not what I...” A touch of anger bubbles up in Aziraphale. Anger and disappointment. “Why have you never said anything?”
Crowley - for lack of a better word - squirms. “Not my most stellar moment, is it? Having nightmares… There’s nothing you could have done anyway.”
“But I would have liked to know. Especially since we....” He gestures between them. “We share things now, don't we? We're… together.” His gaze flits away from Crowley, almost afraid of the reaction he'd get. “Are we not?”
Crowley nods, the motion barely visible. “I'm sorry, angel, I…”
Aziraphale then puts a hand on Crowley’s knee, squeezing down gently. He tries to recall the last time he's touched Crowley like that but comes up empty.
“You don't have to apologize, dear," he says. "And you don't have to tell me anything. I just want you to know that you can. That I'm here in case you…”
Crowley's hand closes around Aziraphale's, returning the gesture in kind. A small gesture in the grand scheme of things but at the same time in the grand scheme of things it has been impossible for so long. He himself has made it impossible for so long, shying away from what has been right in front of him. For good reason, they both know that but still…
Maybe, just maybe, if he had seen and understood things sooner, the simplicity of Crowley's hand on his, of them sharing a bed in the most innocent fashion, wouldn’t make his palm feel sweaty now. Maybe he wouldn't look up at Crowley now who in turn looks down at their hand with wild, glittering eyes. Maybe he could just lean over and press a soft kiss to Crowley’s bite-worried lips and tell him everything would be alright.
But he hadn't seen, hadn't understood, and now they're here and he doesn't know that Crowley had been suffering from nightmares for six millennia. He doesn’t know what the dreams are about. He doesn’t know if everything will be alright.
"Read to me, would you?" Crowley breaks the spell. He pulls his hand away and scoot down to lay on his back, one arm behind his head.
"Of course." For a moment longer, Aziraphale looks at him, at his half-closed eyes, the thin line of his mouth, the still slightly tense angle of his shoulders. Then he picks up the book again. "I think you'll like this one. It's a whodunit."
"You'll do voices, won't you?" Crowley’s voice is laced with amused annoyance.
"Most certainly."
Aziraphale gives a little 'what happened so far' then proceeds to read. He's made it through about five pages - he trips over a character with a Scottish accent - when Crowley speaks again.
“I want to tell you," he says, eyes fixed on the ceiling. "Don't think I'm keeping… things from you...secrets… I'm just… it's been part of me for so long… I'm not…”
“Whenever you're ready, dear.”
“Might not be for a while.”
“I don't plan on going anywhere.”
Crowley peers up at him, a little glint in his eyes now. "Good, 'cause I want to know how that story ends."
"Haven't you figured it out yet? It's clearly the…"
"Just keep reading, angel."