Work Text:
Aziraphale had learned to read Crowley's daily routines to determine his pain level. An active Crowley, tending to his garden, terrorizing plants, offering to cook, and take walks to to the beach indicated a good day. On days where pain was tolerable, they would take walks to the beach. Aziraphale surprised his husband with a DYI beach accessible wheelchair with instructions he found online. It touched Crowley deeply that Aziraphale was kind and creative when adapting their outings to be mindful of his chronic pain.
Crowley liked the warmth of the sand against his achy limbs, leaning against Aziraphale while the Angel stroked his hair is a bonus. They'd pack a picnic basket, umbrella, and a book to relax on the beach. It was lovely, how simply and domesticated their shared life had become. Crowley napped frequently in the afternoons, even on good days he needed his rest.
However, there is a difference between moderate and severe pain days that Aziraphale has not quite mastered yet. When Crowley does not feel well and have bad pain flare ups, Aziraphale has a list of things he knows to do. He keeps his husband fed, hydrated and medicated. If Crowley needs spaces, he reads a book downstairs within ear shot. If Crowley wants company, they'll cuddle, get the heating pad out, and lounge in bed.
Moderate pain days are much more subtle, a twisted frown, a groan, stiff joints and a grumpy, irritable Crowley. He may still have the energy to use his cane or crutches, to be relatively active and maintain his routine with adjustment. If they walked further, Crowley might use his wheelchair. Unless Crowley voiced his limits for the day, Aziraphale presumed to maintain their normal day to day activities.
This unspoken agreement seemed to be okay until it wasn't. Sharing a space is still so new to them both, and Crowley isn't used to communicating about his disability so openly. Aziraphale is doing his best to try to understand Crowley, and learning to help. It isn't perfect, but they're both willing to try. For 6,000 years Crowley has been quietly adapting and processing through how to simply be a human-shaped being, never outloud before.
Aziraphale has read a few things about chronic pain and autism spectrum disorder. But it is still new to him, a handful of books sit on his desk as he tries to read more. Given that their life at home has been fairly quietly and routine, the Angel hasn't witnessed over stimulation. Just outbursts of joy, Crowley sharing about his special interests (plants and astronomy) and the occasional stimming, Crowley loves playing the piano, the way music's vibration makes his body tingle.
The couple planned to visit London for a week, taking a Fall holiday and returning to the book shop. Aziraphale was delighted to make reservations for dinner at the Ritz, plan a nice walk through St. James Park, and come back home for a nice bubble bath. Crowley was quieter than usual, letting himself morph into snake form and curl under a heat lamp. His body didn't hurt nearly as much when in snake form, it was like all his vertebra could finally be stretched out and less compressed.
Aziraphale didn't think anything of it. It wasn't a behavior he had seen before, so trying to analyze and determine pain level was a challenge. Crowley looked comfortable, his thick black snake body coiled into pools. He hissed quietly, and the Angel guessed he was taking a nap. Aziraphale spent the afternoon cataloging books getting lost in his own world while Crowley rested. Crowley had never verbalized before how much he enjoys wrapping up in thick coils, he finally gets the compression he needs to feel secure.
Around 5:00 pm, Crowley was awake and morphed back into his human shaped form. He wore his sunglasses to hide his eyes from Aziraphale, and chose to bring along his black forearm crutches. He was dressed, freshly showered, and appeared ready for dinner. The Angel never questioned Crowley's decisions regarding his body, pain, and choice of mobility aid. He trusts his husband to know his own limitations.
Crowley offers to drive, hiding himself behind a pair of sunglasses and sarcasm. The first sign Aziraphale picked up on anything being wrong is the way Crowley flinched at sounds and touches. His entire body seem to recoil if Aziraphale or any offending articles of clothes brushed his skin. Crowley's head was swimming, struggling to process any external stimuli.
He would rather be home than on the way to the Ritz with his Angel. Crowley could be curled up in a dark room under a weighted blanket alone and in a quiet, dark bedroom. But Crowley hated nothing more than to disappoint Aziraphale who had been so bloody happy about dining at the Ritz and going for a walk. When they arrived at the Ritz, Crowley seemed to jump out of his skin.
He looked utterly miserable under the bright florescent lights in the restaurant. Crowley hesitantly nursed a glass of water, his stomach ached with waves of overwhelming nausea and he could feel a headache forming at the base of his neck. The Demon wanted to scream and cry, instead he quietly tried not to flinch every time Azirapahle spoke to him. Crowley didn't even order a meal, he went green when he caught a whiff of food.
Aizraphale finally said something, "We are going home."
"We haven't gotten our food yet, Angel."
"You clearly do not feel well."
"I wanted to do something nice for you."
"We're going home, give me your keys."
"Let me give at least give you a lift."
"No. Give me the keys."
"Whatever.", Crowley rolls his eyes, he instantly regrets this movement when his head aches painfully.
His vision blurs black around the edges and he struggles to remain upright in his chair. His beloved Bentely keys are handed over, and Aziraphale with the snap of his finger pays their dinner ticket. It takes both of them to support Crowley's body weight as he slithers towards the car. He doesn't have the coordination to manage this forearm crutches.
The Angel drives them home, Crowley is gripping the upholstery until his knuckles are white under the strain. His body is curled tightly into a ball, leaning against the cool window. He is quiet, but Aziraphale can feel the anger and pain coming off in waves. Crowley's entire body feels like it is on fire. It's not the pain necessary, Crowley just feels overwhelmed by all his senses.
When they arrive home, everything finally combusts like a tin of biscuit dough under the stress in a can. Aziraphale isn't not quiet, but he can idenity the moment they stepped in the book stop, it's like Crowley exploded. Ungainly limbs are thrown around as he shouts and flails his body around, his face is red as Crowley raises his voice. Crowley is clearly frustrated and upset when he begins his rant.
His entire body language is defensive, but his face is blank, emotionless. Crowley struggles to get his body language and facial muscles to cooperate in expressing how he feels. Words are hard, they're heavy in his mouth, too cumbersome and difficult to string sentences together.The Demon is raising his voice unaware of how loud he is being. Aziraphale doesn't think Crowley can process his own surroundings at the moment. It would take entirely too much energy to deal with his feelings, yet alone tolerate any subtle noise in the room.
"Why did you have to be such a bloody buzzkill?", Crowley shouts.
"You lied to me, Crowley."
"I did not want to disappoint you."
"I would've been just fine if we rescheduled, dearest."
"Not everything has to be about my pain, Aziraphale."
"We take it day by day, Crowley."
"Go away. You can sleep on the couch tonight."
"We aren't done talking about this. But if you wish to be alone, then I'll be in the living room."
"I want you to leave me the fuck alone.", Crowley is livid.
He struggles upstairs, nearly hurting himself in the process. The Demon slams the bedroom door, leaving Aziraphale on the other side. Aziraphale sighs and leans against the locked door. He can hear how desperately Crowley is tearing off his clothes. He listens for as things begin to settle down, the Angel images the room dark and cool. He eventually pulls himself off the floor and settles on the couch with a book within hearing distance.
Aziraphale knows from his reading, many people can finally have their meltdown when they trust the person in their presence. Many adults and children feel like they have to hold it all together until they get home to let it all out. It's frustrating for him, but Aziraphale can only imagine how Crowley must be feeling right now. With no experience to work from, Aziraphale picks up a book and tries to sympathize what Crowley goes through. Armed with a stack of books and a cup of coco, Aziraphale tries to understand how to help Crowley.
Eventually, he knows he has to go bed and turns the lights off. It's the longest night of Aziraphale's life as he tries to sleep on the couch. He tosses and turns aimlessly, unable to stop his mind from worrying about Crowley. When the morning sunshine finally breaks softly through the curtains, Aziraphale groans softly. Before settling in with Crowley, six months ago, he didn't sleep, but the Angel learned to sleep a few hours a night with Crowley. As his body became accustomed to rest, it was difficult to adjust to a sleepless night.
Aziraphale is surprised to find the bedroom door unlocked in the morning. He knocks softly at the door, "Crowley?"
"Yeah?", a breathless voice called out.
"Can I come in?"
"Sure just don't talk loud, and keep the lights off."
Aziraphale finds Crowley dressed in loose fitting pj pants that feel like wearing clouds. The demon is wrapped up in silken sheets, the only material that does not cause over stimulation. Aziraphale finds himself stripping out of his clothes and remains in a pair of boxers. He climbs into bed beside Crowley, careful not to touch him without permission.
Crowley takes the first step and rests his head on Aziraphale's chest. He still seems frazzled today, riding the aftermath of over stimulation and mild pain. Yesterday he felt like his entire body was on fire. Every sensation felt like dousing the fire in petrol. Aziraphale is content to hold his husband, placing soft kisses against his forehead. He could feel every tense line and muscle in Crowley's body release.
"How did you know to take your clothes off before getting into bed?", Crowley sounded surprised.
"Your clothes seemed to bother you last night."
"I'm so sorry, Aziraphale.", Crowley's voice was drowning in sincerity, he added softly, " I shouldn't have lied or yelled at you. You were trying to help me."
"You are forgiven."
"Why?", Crowley asked skeptical.
"You weren't yourself, Anthony."
"You are too nice to me."
"We all need grace, dearest."
"I think I was just overstimulated yesterday."
"Perhaps the change in routine?"
"Ah, shit, that makes sense."
"Next time you don't feel like going out just say something."
"Will do, Angel."
"You know, I don't mind staying in, watching telly and calling in a take out order."
"You hate watching telly, Angel."
"All that matters is that I'm with you. Even if that means, I read quietly and you sit on the other end of the couch."
"I'll work on my words."
"Words can be hard sometimes, sweetheart. I understand."
"Thank you for being patient with me."
"This is part of loving you, Crowley. I love all of you."
"Even my busy beehive of a brain?"
"Even your brain.", Aziraphale kisses Crowley's forehead.
Crowley lets himself be the little spoon tucked safely into his soft husband. He closed his eyes, holding loosely onto Aziraphale, letting his breaths calm and his heart stop racing. The Demon Crowley allows sleep to wash over him and get some much needed rest. Aziraphale exhausted joins his husband in sleep shortly. Sometimes, there are hard days and Crowley isn't sure how to ask for help. But Aziraphale is willing to be there every step of the way.
Fin.