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Everything had become so much, all at once. Work and family and social situations and the ever-increasing, constant fear that everything was suddenly about to go horribly wrong.
So mental illness was also up there, in the list of Pressing Concerns.
You had managed to hold on, though. Kept your head above water despite how tired your legs were from treading for so long. You hadn’t seen your friends in weeks and collapsed into bed every single night, exhausted, but failed to sleep at a reasonable hour. You simply couldn’t think about taking time for yourself but your grades were passable and the rent was paid. That was what mattered, right?
You stood by the sink, looking out the tiny kitchen window, and slurped down another bowl of instant ramen. The dishes were piled high below you but you chose to ignore that, for the moment. It had been two weeks of those exact moments. The lone plant on the sill was looking worse for wear.
“Aww, Ophelia,” you murmured, “not you too.”
As you finished the meal, you put the empty bowl haphazardly on top of the pile, and poured the rest of your drinking water into the pot. A futile attempt to keep the thing alive. Ramen done, you couldn’t bear to look at her anymore and so returned to bed.
You shuffled off in your week-old joggers back to what you had dubbed the Depression Cave. Dark and musty and quiet, the perfect backdrop for your too-loud thoughts. Unwashed clothes strewn about the floor and curtains perpetually closed, it reminded you of your uncle, Crowley.
He wasn’t your bio uncle. That would be strange and near impossible. But he was as good as. His partner, Aziraphale, liked to tease him about how “emo” he could be sometimes (and how much he didn’t take care of his clothes).
You drew the duvet over your head more as it felt like something had reached in and squeezed your heart in a tight fist. You missed them, terribly. Despite everything, despite their undeniable chaotic, bastard natures, they always brought a sense of calm. A feeling of peace, in a way nothing else did.
You wanted to text them but you couldn’t let them see you like this. This… pathetic. You sighed and flopped over underneath the covers. You got your phone out of your pocket to scroll through something, anything. It didn’t matter what, you just needed a distraction.
There were plenty of unread notifications on your home screen but the most recent one stood out the most. Crowley.
It was a short message but it still brought tears to your eyes.
Thinking of you, kiddo. Love you. A & C.
Something came over you that outweighed your anxiety. A few taps and the phone was pressed to your ear as tears streamed down your face.
The call was immediately picked up.
“Hey, kiddo, how’s it going?”
You tried to get a response out but were overcome by sobs. You squeezed your eyes shut.
“Hey, hey, okay, alright,” Crowley soothed. “Angel!” he called, phone clearly away from his ear. “Kiddo, love, I’m sorry we didn’t see that it was this bad. We’ll be there soon, alright?”
You think you managed to get out a small hum in confirmation.
“Sit tight. I’ll pass you over to Aziraphale, now, cause I’ve got to drive. Angel?”
Sounds of fumbling came down the line and then the primmest Southern accent you had ever heard said - “Hello, dear.”
Crowley’s unique form of comfort has actually done a lot to smooth the ache inside you, and you managed to clear your throat enough to answer him. “Hi, Aziraphale,” you all but whispered into the phone.
“As Crowley mentioned we’re on our way, alright? Don’t worry about, ah, getting up to let us in we have… ways around it.” Crowley snorted loudly in the background. “Shall I recount the tale of my latest acquisition for you in the mean time? I haven’t had the chance to tell you about it yet, and I’m certain it will make the journey pass quickly.”
You pulled your knees up to your chest. “Yeah,” you said. You had always enjoyed Aziraphale’s stories, even when Crowley rolled his eyes at what he considered to be 'inconsequential details'.
The soft timbre of the angel’s voice washed over you as the couple made their way to your place. You barely remember the particulars of the story, now. Aziraphale doesn’t mind.
Miraculously soon there was a gentle knock at the door.
“It’s us, can we come in?” called Crowley.
You stuck your head out of the covers just enough to say “yeah”. Your voice was barely a whisper - hydration wasn’t exactly a priority at the moment - but your uncles’ hearing had always been a little… strange.
You heard the front door open despite it being definitely locked and the footfalls of two not-quite humans approached your room. The door creaked open and you buried your head back under the cover. It had seemed like such a good idea at the time but now you didn’t want to face them.
“It’s perfectly alright, my dear, there’s no need to hide from us,” Aziraphale said from the doorway.
“Unless you feel more comfortable, like that of course,” Crowley tacked on.
You could feel their eyes inspecting the room and shrank on yourself even further. There was a difference between seeing people you didn’t care about because you had to - at work, at school. There was a persona you had, a part you played to make it through the day. But this was your family. They knew you. The real you.
The covers moved with the force of your shaking. Crowley cursed under his breath and moved closer, near the approximate location of your head.
“Kid, it really is okay. That we’re here, that this is we’re you’re at. You just have to do one thing for me, alright? Do you want us closer or further away?” He asked softly.
Oh. You were lonely. The thought was suddenly clear in your mind. Had it been weeks or months since you had hung out with someone? That you had gotten more than an incidental touch of affection? It had been endless days of fitful sleep and waking and monotonous routine. Some of your coworkers were okay but it wasn't the same. There was an unseen, unspoken barrier between you, always. Even if they didn't know it.
“Close,” you managed to answer, then coughed. Your mouth was a desert.
“Water, angel,” Crowley requested before he carefully, slowly let his weight sink down onto the bed next to you.
Aziraphale left and silence descended once more. A small amount of warmth from Crowley bled through the sheets to reach you.
You poked your head out the top of the blankets to look at him. It was Crowley, the same one you always knew. His glasses were off and his hair was in a haphazard bun. What wasn’t familiar was the pure look of concern on his face.
One of your hands seemed to move of its own accord and slipped up, out of the blankets, and towards his own. Crowley grabbed on to it with no hesitation and he gave you a small smile.
Aziraphale returned with a mug with a straw in it and placed it delicately on the bedside table. He made to move away, not wanting to overwhelm you with too much at once, but you managed to catch his sleeve.
He stopped immediately. You let go, suddenly guilty about crushing his precious clothes.
“Sorry, Aziraphale,” you muttered, avoiding his gaze.
Crowley’s grip tightened infinitesimally on your hand.
“It’s perfectly alright, my dear. No harm at all,” he reassured you. “I take it you also want me nearby?”
You nodded. A look of realisation crossed Aziraphale’s face and he turned slightly to pass you the water. You sipped on the straw, grateful. Once you were less thirsty you tried to speak again. “Please?”
“Of course,” he agreed. “Is this enough?”
Oh, wow. That was a big question. You began to analyse what exactly Aziraphale meant by that when Crowley interrupted again.
“D’you want to cuddle, love?” He asked instead. Aziraphale smiled gratefully at his spouse for being more perceptive.
You nodded, eyes closed, still afraid that at any moment they would laugh, say that it was all a joke at your expense. Like time and time again the risk of vulnerability would not be outweighed by rewards, that it would exploited and spit upon, and your walls would grow higher and thicker once more.
Crowley squeezed your hand once again, bringing you out of your thoughts, as Aziraphale stood to walk the short journey around to the other side of your bed. You couldn’t help but peek as Crowley toed off his shoes and turned down the blankets just enough to slide in beside you.
He blended in, funnily enough. Everything in the room seemed to be a dull grey and his nearly all black ensemble made him look right at home. He looked a little nervous, as much as an ancient being could. More for himself than for you. He wouldn’t tell you, but he didn’t want to fuck this up. Didn't want to hurt you more than you were already hurting.
Aziraphale waited patiently on the other side as you inched forward to press your face to Crowley’s collarbone. He wrapped his arms around you and brought you close to him. It felt nice. It felt… safe.
You weren’t sure how much time had passed before you backed off slightly. Crowley’s arms immediately went lax as he felt you move away. You gave him a small smile and turned around to face Aziraphale. You didn't even hesitate with trusting Crowley with your back.
Aziraphale was inspecting the lone book on your other bedside table that had been there for half a year now. You used it more for a coaster than anything else. All of your usual motivation for reading had dried up but you didn't have the energy to put it somewhere else. It was clear that he moved quite silently as his outer layers of clothing were already stripped off and he was down to his shirtsleeves, no bow-tie in sight. It was a little strange, to see him so bare, especially in your room as it was. You knew it was thoughtful of him, though.
You extended a hand once more and he took it, his large warm hand around your own. Aziraphale slid under the covers to join you both. He stayed only where you put him, first at the very edge of the bed but a gentle tug brought him closer. You hugged him.
He was incredibly, indescribably soft and so very warm. If a single person could feel like home it was Aziraphale. You pressed right up into his neck, inhaling the scent of cologne that was so familiar. Something inside you released and your thoughts finally slowed down to a bearable pace.
You let go, only to reach behind you and find one of Crowley’s arms. You threw it around your waist and he got the idea quickly. He became the big spoon as you rested your head on Aziraphale’s chest.
You knew three adults shouldn't fit in your bed like that but you were too tired to question your uncles' unusual effects on the physical world. You simply went with it and tried to accept that you deserved this. This love and care and attention.
"Love you, kiddo," Crowley murmured from behind you. You reached down and squeezed his hand where it rested over your stomach.
You felt more than saw Aziraphale smile and brush a kiss against your forehead. "We do love you, dear. Very much."
You couldn't see it, but the three of you formed a heart shape in your now impossibly wide bed. And you believed them.