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“It’s not really that bad,” Crowley said in the most casual tone he could manage while Aziraphale stared at him with wide, alarmed eyes. “S’ just a scratch. Barely even hurts.”
“Um. I-I don’t quite think that having an arrow lodged in your shoulder quite counts as only a ‘scratch’, my dear fellow.” With a gulp, Aziraphale wrung his hands. “Oh dear. I don’t suppose you can just miracle it away?”
Crowley considered shrugging, and decided that was probably the worst possible thing he could do with an arrow lodged in his shoulder. He choked back the impulse, settling for a heavy sigh. “Nuh. M’ a little distracted.”
“Ah. Yes, I-I suppose you must be.” Slowly, Aziraphale sank down and sat in the grass beside him. “Well, I suppose I’ll just have to attend to it, then. We have had the Arrangement for a little while, after all, and this does seem the sort of thing it ought to be used for.”
“If ‘a little while’ is a bloody century,” Crowley muttered, but he wasn’t about to object. His shoulder throbbed with each heartbeat, and although the arrow itself was keeping the blood loss from being as bad as it could be, he really wasn’t enjoying this much.
He tried to distract himself while Aziraphale fussed over the injury, using a cluster of small miracles to get the arrow out, clean the wound, stop the bleeding. Mostly, he distracted himself by watching Aziraphale.
Aziraphale was gorgeous, honestly. Those light curls, the furrows of concern in his brow, the quick fussy way he moved his hands. Crowley loved watching him. Loved being with him.
Crowley had never been interested in things like hooking up with anyone. Most demons tried out lust, but it just didn’t interest him. Had always seemed pretty boring, especially when there were so many other fascinating things to do in the world. And whatever this was that he felt when he was with Aziraphale, it wasn’t a desire to hook up.
For a while, he’d thought maybe it was something more like the other aspects of marriage than humans talked about. Love, the sort of love that people sang songs about all the time. But there was something that didn’t feel right about that either. It just wasn’t what Crowley felt.
“Do you like hanging out together?” he asked vaguely, and then winced at himself. Wasn’t exactly a normal sort of thing to ask.
Aziraphale gave him a shy smile. “Well, I admit that I prefer hanging out together when you aren’t bleeding heavily.”
“Hrgh. Me too.”
“But yes. Very much.” Aziraphale cleared his throat, blushing. “Even if you are a demon. There, you ought to be all mended. I do suggest, though, that you don’t move your arm too much just yet.”
“Then you’ll have to hold my hand to keep it still,” Crowley said, the first thing that came to mind.
It was a stupid thing to say, and only the fact that his arm still hurt stopped him from burying his face in his hands. That was the sort of thing that would probably chase Aziraphale off again.
“Well. All right.” Aziraphale smiled shyly at him, and took his hand.
The contact sent a flood of relaxation through Crowley, a sense of contentment. Aziraphale’s hand was warm, soft, and soothing. Crowley was pretty sure he could gladly do this all day.
Now that Crowley didn’t have an arrow lodged in his shoulder, they went back to chatting. Crowley went back to musing, too.
No, he wasn’t interested in hooking up, or in marriage, and he knew that Aziraphale wasn’t either. But he and Aziraphale maybe had the start of something else going on, a partnership that suited their own needs. For now, just being together was more than enough.