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Although Crowley was traveling by horseback, he was making good time on his way to meet with Aziraphale in a village near Yorkshire. He hadn’t always had the best luck with horses, as most Hell-approved ones were wild and spooked easily, but this one hadn’t tried to throw him yet.
That is, until it got spooked by a large rock.
Pain reverberated throughout his skull, a sickening crack ringing in his ears. Vaguely, he thought himself lucky to not be trampled as his horse took off into the woods, but soon thought better of it when the ringing turned to throbbing. He must have banged his head against the same rock that had startled his horse.
He tried to push himself up, but another bolt of pain shot through his entire corporation and flattened him back onto the damp ground. His head swam, darkness encroaching into the corners of his vision.
Shitshitshit! He didn’t have time to pass out! He had to get to the tavern, had to…not make Aziraphale worry. Because if there was one thing he hated more than passing out, it was worrying Aziraphale.
He hadn’t known how long he laid there for, focusing on the scent of wet leaves and mud, but it must have been long enough for night to fall. A shiver wracked through him, and he moaned as his already sore corporation found even more ways to ache.
This was ridiculous, he was supposed to be sitting in a warm tavern with Aziraphale right now, drinking mead while watching the angel eat pompion stew, not bleeding out from his head in the middle of nowhere. This wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go at all.
Gritting his teeth, he tried to push himself up once more. If he could just make it to the village, then he could let Aziraphale sort this mess out for him. Which sounded great in theory, but not in practice as his arms gave out the instant any weight were put on them, making that plan a bust.
All he could really do was hope that Aziraphale would eventually venture out under the light of the moon in search of him. Though, if he could scrape together enough energy, maybe he could speed things up by sending a distress signal.
Gathering his strength, he sent out a pulse of darkness through the metaphysical planes. It wasn’t as strong as he would have liked it to be, but it should be enough to clue Aziraphale in on his whereabouts.
Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait long.
“Crowley!” came Aziraphale’s worried voice.
Crowley turned towards its source with difficulty, and was momentarily horrified to see a white horse slicing through the darkness, barreling right for him. Perhaps he was going to get trampled today, after all.
But then Aziraphale gave the reigns a sharp tug, pulling the horse to a stop before it could even come close to running the demon over.
“Oh, Crowley!” Aziraphale jumped off his horse and into the thick mud, breathing heavily. “I came as soon as you called, are you alright?”
“Do I look bloody alright to you?”
“Well, you certainly do look bloody,” Aziraphale conceded, and Crowley could see the degree of concern increase tenfold as the angel looked him over. “Oh dear, that doesn’t look good at all.”
“I’m not supposed to look good,” Crowley grumbled stubbornly. But despite the weak protest, he allowed his head to carefully be turned to the side with only a small hiss. “M’fine, it’s probably just a ssscratch. Got too tired to heal it on my own, s’all.”
“Just a scratch?” Aziraphale repeated incredulously, releasing Crowley’s chin to pull a wineskin from his pack. Gently, he pressed it to Crowley’s lips. “This is a rather impressive amount of blood for just a scratch, don’t you think?”
Crowley took a deep pull from the skin to avoid answering. Although the wine wasn’t strong enough to dull the pain after a few gulps, it gave him time to come up with a response.
“S’a big scratch.”
“A very big scratch indeed,” Aziraphale agreed, sarcasm dripping from his tone, and pulled the wineskin away. But before Crowley could protest, he was being gathered up into a strong set of arms and picked up. “Now, do you think you could stand riding on my horse? I could carry you back to the village, of course, but I think it would be much faster by horse in all this mud.”
Crowley didn’t particularly want to ride another horse any time soon, but if it meant getting to sit back against the warm softness of the angel’s belly and a hug from behind to hold him there, then he was willing to do so.
And for once, the ride was somewhat enjoyable.