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Crowley was not a particularly violent person. He never had been. Sure, he was protective of Aziraphale and would absolutely kill to protect him from serious harm, but unneeded violence wasn't really his forte. Inconvenience, sure, mild discomfort, absolutely, but causing harm to other living beings didn't make him happy. It didn't make him feel powerful. If anything it made him feel weak. He could do so much better things with his time.
However, this week, he'd been incredibly angry. He couldn't quite figure out why, but the slightest thing set him off today. If it was too hot in a particular room he'd feel his blood boil, if someone was driving too slow, he'd be completely enraged, if there was a spider in his bathroom he'd actually kill it instead of pretending it wasn't there and coming back later when it was gone. He didn't mind arachnids, they kill other insects, but today he just didn't have the patience to wait until the damn thing was gone.
So he killed it quickly with a fly swatter he miracled up, before making said swatter gone. He stepped into the shower. He just needed to relax. It was really all he wanted. Something about the water sliding down the scales on his back was incredibly relaxing to the demon. The water could never be hot enough for long, though. As a demon, he liked hot water. Not boiling, but being soaked in cold water was like falling again. He utterly detested the feeling of cold water on his skin. Made him feel like he was on fire.
After Crowley stepped out of the shower, miracling away the water from his body (but not his hair, he sort of liked the way his hair looked when it was wet.) he miracled his clothes back on, finding himself too lazy to go through the effort of putting them on like a normal person, he called Aziraphale. He liked talking to the angel, really, he did. Being physically close to him, though, was so much better. Being able to be so close to Aziraphale, having the angel's wings wrapped around him, it was so emotionally pleasing to him. Made him happy, made him feel safe, like he was actually important.
Humans tend to do this thing when they get depressed, cutting. Crowley didn't know what demon in hell had the bright idea to get them to do that, but someone did. He was glad it wasn't him. He'd seen a couple of news articles on websites when he browsed the internet from time to time about how a "local teen found dead via. suicide". He'd only ever clicked on one of those because he wanted to see someone doing worse than he was, but turns out they'd bleed to death from slitting their wrists. He didn't do much more browsing after that.
Crowley would've started doing it if he were human, he definitely would've, but he really couldn't be bothered. And anyway, risking his physical form would be just... Too much. He'd cut too deep or something like that. Hit a vein, his body would die. Then he'd never be able to be in Aziraphale's arms again. He could only get a new body through hell, and that wasn't happening again anytime soon.
After thinking about that, he started to think about the talk between him and Aziraphale after their attempted executions. Turns out, 'Crowley' got a trial. All 'Aziraphale' got was "I'm the Archangel Fucking Gabriel" and then he was forced to walk into the fire. Crowley was disgusted with how poorly Aziraphale was treated. How could they be so cruel to someone so sweet? Gabriel made him feel sick, so he stopped thinking about that.
Crowley picked up his phone and rang Aziraphale. It was pretty early, but Aziraphale didn't sleep by himself so he assumed the angel would be picking up within moments.
Lucky for him, he did.
"Hey, Aziraphale," the demon said, sounding much more annoyed than he would've liked to.
"Is something wrong, dear?" The angel asked. Crowley couldn't help but smile a bit to himself. Aziraphale's concern for him was just... It made him so happy.
"Just been feeling angry lately... Mind if I come over?"
"Of course, Crowley, you're always welcome at the shop," The angel said. Crowley could hear the angel's smile in his voice. He sounded so happy.
"Be there in ten minutes!" He sounded more excited than he wanted to, but he couldn't be bothered to care after hanging up.
Once he got to the bookstore, he was pissed. There had been some idiot driving in front of him the whole way, so the ten-minute drive turned into a fifteen-minute drive. It should've been illegal to drive so poorly, but he put up with it.
He stormed into the bookshop, almost slamming the door shut. He turned the sign to say "CLOSED" in big, bold, red letters, walking over to Aziraphale, who was sitting in an armchair, and threw himself over an arm on his back, hands over his face, dramatically sighing.
"Something wrong, dear?" The angel asked kindly, running his fingers against Crowley's hair. The demon simply responded with a soft hiss, which, when accompanied by words would've been a bad thing, but since it was a hiss and only a hiss, it was a signal for Aziraphale to keep stroking his hair and that he'd talk about it once he was calmer. Aziraphale, of course, respected Crowley's non-verbal wishes, sliding his hands through his hair and rubbing at the back of his neck. Crowley chuckled lightly, the light rubs tickled a bit, but he didn't object, so Aziraphale kept going. After a minute or so of silence, the demon leaned back against Aziraphale's hand and looked up at him.
"I love you," He whispered. Aziraphale smiled warmly,
"I love you too, Crowley. Now... Has something happened?"
"I'm just... Angry. I'm not even... My Fallen Pains aren't even that bad, I just... I can't stand being alive anymore." The demon closed his eyes, a tear escaping his eyelid. Aziraphale miracled them over to the couch so Crowley could stretch out a bit more, letting the demon continue with his vent.
"I mean, I'm still in constant pain because clearly questioning our perfect and wonderful God and hanging out with the wrong crowd is worth eternal pain, but that's beside the point. My point is... I don't really want to live anymore. Is it worth it? I mean Heaven and Hell are gonna come for us eventually, we should get ourselves before they decide to torture us for eternity. I mean I've been having so many nightmares about the things they would do to us... I remember one vividly, it felt like it lasted as long as it was said to have... Twenty years. I was tortured for twenty years, Aziraphale. They burned my wings, they burned up my back, when they were finished with me, they sent me back to you to kill you."
"Crowley..." Aziraphale murmured lightly.
"I'm sorry, Aziraphale..." The demon whispered. "It's all my fault, everything i-"
"Don't say that!" Aziraphale demanded. Crowley opened one eye to look up at the angel, who appeared to be on the verge of tears himself.
"Nothing is your fault, Crowley. You haven't done anything to deserve all you've dealt with. You've had enough. I... I will protect you. Nobody will hurt you... If I had to, I would kill someone to protect you."
That broke the dam. Crowley burst into tears, wrapping his arms around Aziraphale's neck and crying into his chest. The angel pulled him close, running his hands down Crowley's back. He hoped they were happy tears, he hoped Crowley was glad he loved him enough to offer that. He didn't say anything until after Crowley was done crying, though. He let the demon get everything he could out of his system, hoping he felt so much better afterward.
He did, thankfully.
"I'm sorry, Crowley..." The angel whispered, "You know if I could I would take all your pain away, every last bit of it. I love you, dear, don't you ever forget that."
"Thank you, Aziraphale... You have no idea how much I needed to hear that, really..." Crowley kissed him on the lips softly, grabbing at his shoulder. Aziraphale kissed back lovingly, tapping down the demon's spine, sending little twangs of pleasure through him.
"Let's just... Sit here, for a bit... I need to relax..."
"Of course, dear. Anything you need."
And so they sat there together, talking about anything Crowley found interesting enough to bring up. Aziraphale was happy to listen.