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It has always been like this: whenever Crowley was in bad shape, Aziraphale assumed a confident façade (it wasn’t clear if he realized it or if it was a reflex to Crowley’s state).
"I just... I don’t see the point in this", Crowley murmured.
"Well, one thing I have learned from humans is that, in case of being in a troubled state of mind, it’s very helpful to talk about it", the angel replied. He wasn’t sure if Crowley would give in and open up to him right now, but nonetheless he thought it was worth the try.
“Can’t we just talk about anything else?” Crowley’s voice was filled with annoyance, but the angel knew him better than that. “Like, how was your day? Had to give in and sell any books today?”
“You’re on the verge of a breakdown and you want to talk trivialities?” Aziraphale’s tone wasn’t judgmental. A little incredulous, mostly worried, but never judgmental.
“I can’t talk about it. Not right now” His voice was small. It had a hint of defeat and sorrow which made something in Aziraphale’s chest tighten.
“Alright, dear. Whatever you wish to talk about?”
“I don’t know. Anything else. Isn’t that weird how humans are trapped in an eternal circle of having to eat and then let everything out just to eat again later? What’s up with that?” He tried to sound excited, but it just came out sad and pleading.
Aziraphale laughed. “Come on”. He sat on the bed with his back against the bedframe and patted on own his legs. Crowley followed his lead, resting his head on his angel’s lap. Once they were settled, the angel gently combed Crowley’s hair with his fingers as he told tales about his days with now famous authors, about how he always made sure to have all the first editions of his favourite books (“All books are your favourites, angel”. It was only partially true). He told the demon about how he had the idea of opening a bookshop, even though he was there when it happened. He told him about his adventures when he needed to go on heaven-sent missions. He even recalled some of their old adventures (“Ugh, how I loaded the 1400’s. The clothes were absolutely ridiculous and the wine tasted like shit” – Aziraphale knew it was actually because Crowley couldn’t stand to witness all the torture going around and he couldn't stand watching so many people die of starvation, but he never said anything).
The stories distracted Crowley for a good while. Eventually his anxiety caught up and he fell silent. Aziraphale could almost hear Crowley’s muscles tense again.“
Do you want me to give you a massage? It does wonders for tense shoulders”, the angel offered. He was trying his best to not ask again about what was going on with Crowley.
A moment of silence, then a small nod. He was glad they were so close.
Crowley got up and sat between Aziraphale’s legs with his back on the reach of his hands. At first they didn’t speak. Crowley just closed his eyes and enjoyed the feeling of the hands upon his shoulders, muscles forced to relax under the angel’s fingers.
"I bet you just care because you’re an angel and have to help whenever you can". Crowley spoke after what felt like an eternity. He was going for a joking tone, but it came out a little sadder than he intended, desperate for validation. He felt ridiculous.
"Maybe”. Crowley’s shoulders tensed again under the angel’s fingers. “Or maybe it is because we've known each other for at least 6000 years and are best friends. and maybe because I know you better than anyone and know exactly how to help you and make you feel comfortable enough to let you know that you can talk to me about anything". Internally, Aziraphale was a little shocked that he let himself say all of this in such serene tone. He kept massaging Crowley's shoulders as he spoke. The demon's muscles got a little more relaxed as he listened to those words. A little smile crept up on his lips.
Silence fell upon them once again.
Aziraphale pressed a point on Crowley’s upper back and, out of coincidence or some other factor, the demon's wings came out in a woosh, taking the angel by surprise and making him jump lightly and withdraw his hand to himself.
"Oh... Sorry, angel". Crowley had a bit of a slur on his voice. Aziraphale just stared at them for a little while, at the same time amazed with them and concerned about Crowley. He can't remember this happening before. In all of the 6000 years they have known each other, he doesn’t think he ever saw Crowley open his wings without needing to fly urgently somewhere; he likes to fly in airplanes.
"It's alright, my dear. are you ok?” The massage has stopped.
"Yeah, yeah. I was, uh, just thinking. This happens sometimes when I’m distracted, I guess". Crowley made a dismissing gesture with his hand and his tone was (mostly) neutral. Aziraphale knows him well enough to read through his bullshit.
"What were you thinking about?", he asked after a minute or so, one hand resting on the mattress and the other lightly touching Crowley’s arm, being careful to not touch the wings without permission.
"Ah. Just... things. Y'know me. I think things all the time". He folded his legs so he could hold his ankles. Really he just needed something to do with his hands.
A brief pause. “Alright. Can you tell me what were you thinking about that made your wings flare out?" Aziraphale was now gently rubbing the demon’s arms, as if trying to pass some reassurance through the demon’s skin.
Crowley didn't reply. The angel felt the muscles tense once more and he decided it was enough. He had to do something. “Crowley, look at me”, he asked, making the demon face him. Once he saw tears silently streaming down Crowley’s face, he was panicking.
"Please talk to me. What’s wrong?"
"Nothing.” He wiped his tears but they were replaced by fresh ones.
"Please, tell me what it is. You know you can tell me anything, my dear. I’m so worried about you", Aziraphale was growing a little more desperate at every second of Crowley’s silence.
The demon laughed a humourless short laughter. "ha. I don’t think I can".
"yes. you can", Aziraphale gently touched the demon’s arm. The angel had a soft, warm look on his face. And just like that, Crowley bursted into tears, fully sobbing, his head falling between his shoulder. Aziraphale instantly launched himself forward and held him. He held the demon in a tight hug as he felt the tears soak into the fabric of his own clothes. Crowley was sobbing and letting it all out: all of his worries, his fears, feelings he didn’t know how to put into words. The angel held him through all of that, stroking his hair with one hand and gently rubbing his back with the other. He had seen Crowley having an anxiety attack before, and every single time he felt broken for not being able to just instantly make things better for him. With time, he learned to just be glad the demon trusted him enough to allow himself to be this vulnerable around him.
They stayed like this for a long time, hugging each other with all they had. Eventually, Crowley stopped sobbing and his grip around Aziraphale became a little weaker. As the angel realized he was almost asleep, he gently nudged him and adjusted them both until he was laying on his back with Crowley laying on his side, their legs intertwined, head on top of the angel’s chest, left hand's fingers intertwined with the angel’s right one.
Aziraphale was caressing the demon’s hair with his free hand, always careful not to touch his wings, until a very drowsy Crowley said “you can touch them, angel. If you want”. After a brief moment of consideration, Aziraphale's fingertips lightly touched the base of the other's left wing, drawing an unexpected gasp from him. He was startled by Crowley’s reaction and immediately withdrew his hand. Given that he was almost asleep, the angel decided it was just that: an ‘almost-asleep-noise’ – if that is even a thing. After what felt long minutes, he went back to playing with the other's hair. He just wasn’t expecting the demon to be wide awake again.
“Why’d you stop?” Crowley spoke and made him jump a little.
“Hm?” He decided to play dumb.
“Why’d you stop?” He lifted his head just enough to look Aziraphale in the eyes, their hands and legs still together. That made the angel shift a little.
“Do you want me to continue?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“You made a… noise. I thought perhaps it could be discomfort”
“You know me better than that, angel. If I was uncomfortable, I’d tell you.” Crowley’s hand had disentangled from Aziraphale’s and was now supporting his upper body enough to level their gaze.
“Sorry”. Aziraphale looked a bit embarrassed.
There was a strange atmosphere hovering above them. Aziraphale decided to let it be for now.
They fell silent again.
Crowley went back to cuddling with Aziraphale, arm around his waist this time as the angel held him just a little tighter.
Aziraphale wasn’t sure about how much time has passed, but the lights passing through the window were artificial, telling him the night had come. He thought Crowley was asleep, given how still he was.
“Thank you, angel”. His voice barely a whisper.
“For what?” Aziraphale’s voice also a whisper.
“For everything. For staying, for letting me not talk about it yet.”
“Of course, my dear. Now rest. I have great plans for us for lunch tomorrow”. Aziraphale reassured him as they both drifted into slumber.