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Sharp, stabbing jolts of agony pierced deep into Crawley’s hips and legs, knocking him off balance. He gasped, stumbled sideways, and fell into the river.
He crashed into the riverbed hard enough to jar his already sore corporation. Cold water drenched his robes and hair, and he gave a scream of utter frustration. It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair.
The river burbled happily around him, water rushing around his crumpled form. It wasn’t deep or wide here—less of a river than a creek—but it was fucking freezing. And now he hurt even worse.
Crawley took a few heaving breaths and forced himself upright. The throbbing pain in his hips and legs immediately worsened, the flow of the water making it even harder to walk. He trudged through knee-high water, low sobs breaking loose, and dragged himself out onto the riverbank.
Gasping, he clutched at his right leg, where the worst pain radiated. It kept giving out on him when he walked for too long, which was a real problem now that the humans had spread out across the region. It had been easier at first, when it was just Adam and Eve’s extended family. But now, people had settled all over the place.
And shit, it hurt even worse now. It would take him ages to hobble to the village like this, and he’d be lucky if he made it without another fall. And it would be dark soon. Dark and cold.
He could technically miracle himself closer to the humans, but they might freak out if he popped into existence near one of them. He’d made that mistake before. Getting chased through the fields by humans shrieking “slay the demon!” wouldn’t improve his day in the slightest.
Shivering, Crawley miracled himself dry. At least there was that. But he was still cold, and he hurt, and he still had to walk for a few hours. Tears escaped, rolled down his cheeks, and dripped from his chin. Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic. What kind of a demon was he, crying over pain?
“Crawley?”
Nonono, not now. Please not now.
“Crawley?” Aziraphale shuffled into view to his right side, brow deeply furrowed with concern, hands folded. “What are you doing?”
Crawley blinked at him. “Flying.”
Aziraphale tilted his head, now twisting his ring back and forth. “Um…you don’t look like you’re flying.”
“S’ a joke.” Oh, Satan, his legs hurt. Crawley rubbed the worst spot again, wincing. “I’m sitting on the riverbank, Aziraphale.”
“Ah. Um.” Aziraphale shuffled closer, biting his lip. “Actually, it rather looks as though you’re crying on a riverbank. What’s happened?”
Shit. Crawley hadn’t spent all that much time with Aziraphale, but it was enough to know that the angel was tenacious and utterly unrelenting when he thought someone was in danger. Might be better to just give in now, admit the truth instead of trying to hide his weakness.
Before Crawley could decide whether to answer, Aziraphale knelt in the mud beside him and reached out. “Have you hurt your leg, dear fellow?” he asked, fingers hovering a few inches from Crawley’s thigh. “I could tend to the wound.”
“S’ not a wound.” Crawley massaged the spot again, which did exactly nothing for the shrieking pain. Nothing did anything for the pain. “There’s just…something wrong with my corporation. Dunno if it’s cuz I started off as a serpent or what, but my legs don’t work right. They hurt, and sometimes they give out.”
“Give out?” The worried creases in Aziraphale’s brow deepened. Very gently, he settled his fingertips against Crawley’s thigh. “Did you fall?”
Had Fallen a long time ago, which was half why he was in this mess to start with. “In the river, yeah. N’ now my leg hurts even more.”
“Oh, you poor dear!” Aziraphale gave his leg a few tentative, careful rubs, his hand a warm antidote to Crawley’s chill. “Does this help at all? I see that you keep rubbing it.”
“It…” Actually felt better, with Aziraphale touching it. Not much, but a little. Something about the careful consideration eased Crawley’s tension, relaxed him. “Some, yeah. But I was gonna try to get to the village before dark, and now…”
“Oh,” Aziraphale breathed. He was still massaging the painful spot, carefully relaxing the tight muscles. “Oh, I see. Oh goodness, you’re in far too much pain for such a long walk.”
“Mm,” Crawley agreed.
“No, we can’t have that. Well.” Aziraphale rocked back, gently patted his thigh, and gave a brisk, business-like nod. “I’ll simply have to carry you.”
“You—nng—grk—what?” Crowley sputtered as Aziraphale slid one arm under his knees and wrapped the other around his back. “Y-you can’t…”
“Yes, I can.” Aziraphale gave him an utterly confused look, bracing to rise. “I am a Guardian, after all. It’s no trouble.”
“But—hrgk—I’m a…a demon! You can’t just…” Crawley’s protests died at the sudden sadness on Aziraphale’s face. Oh no.
“You…don’t want my help?” Aziraphale asked, voice quiet now. “I’m sorry if I’ve presumed too much. It’s just that you’re in pain, and…”
Aziraphale’s lip quivered, and his kind eyes misted with tears. Oh, shit. Crawley quickly threw both arms around his neck, holding onto him. “Nonono, don’t cry. Please don’t cry. I… Okay, yeah, I need help.”
The angel smiled hesitantly and cradled him close. It felt good. Secure. Maybe even safe. “I can set you down outside the village, if that’s your concern. I suppose it might not be very good for your demonic image if I carried you around near the humans.”
It wasn’t very good for his demonic image to be carried anywhere. But as Aziraphale carefully lifted him from the mud and set off at a steady, smooth pace, Crawley found himself relaxing. His legs still hurt, but they hurt less than they would if he tried to walk the distance. And even though they barely knew each other, it was clear that Aziraphale would take care of him. “Yeah. That sounds like a plan.”