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It was a quite night in Soho, London as it had been most days and nights since the failed apocalypse nearly a decade ago. Things had been going well between a certain (retired) angel and demon. Crowley now basically lived in flat above the bookshop with Aziraphale. He’d moved in shortly after Aziraphale found out he’d been living in his car around the tail end of the covid lockdown.
They stayed together most days, not necessarily doing anything most of the time. Aziraphale spent his days much like how he did before Armageddon’t, but with much less paperwork. Crowley however, spent his days lounging about the bookshop, watching movies of scrolling on his infernal phone. It made Aziraphale worry sometimes. Though he would occasionally go out doing who knows what for days, sometimes weeks, on end. Aziraphale never really asked him about it, he was just glad Crowley was getting out and about by himself.
They still occasionally went out to dinner, or to the theatre, or to the park (Nearly half of Aziraphale’s freezer space was now dedicated to bags of frozen peas). They still sometimes got ludicrously drunk and debated topics they had been debating for centuries. But now there was more quiet moments between them. Time spent in each others company without the pressure of their former bosses on their minds.
Aziraphale had been discovering new things about Crowley in the past few years, which had been a bit of a shock. Six thousand years is a long time to know someone, a long time to learn New Things (with the capital letters). The most recent of his discoveries had been that Crowley was colourblind; He felt strange having not noticed it sooner, but it wasn’t as if Crowley had been trying to let him know about it before.
There were a lot of things like that about Crowley, random facts that the demon had either hid from him before or just never said anything about. Like how he didn’t technically wear shoes (a distressing fact to learn no doubt), or how poor his eyesight actually is (it was almost comical how big the font on Crowleys phone was).
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It was just past midnight on a warm August night and Crowley and Aziraphale were both lying in Aziraphale’s bed in the flat above the bookshop. Aziraphale never really slept much before their retirement, but he’d found that he occasionally enjoyed it (he did still prefer to use nights to read however).
Crowley had disappeared without warning about a month and a half ago as he often did. But this last time he’d stayed away much longer, only having just got back the previous morning.
“Crowley?” Aziraphale whispered to the demon laying on top of him.
“Mm?” He hummed
“Are you awake?”
“Yep.”
Truth be told, Crowley had been falling in and out of sleep since three in the afternoon the day before. Well, it more like he being awoken by Aziraphale asking, or telling, him something, before he would fall back asleep after answering.
He wasn’t about to complain though, no matter how much it was getting on his nerves. Which it wasn’t really. Well, maybe a little bit. But it was well worth being able to lay on Aziraphale while he (kinda) slept.
“I can’t fall asleep.” Aziraphale muttered. Crowley didn’t have to look at him to know he was pouting.
“Could get up and do something else.” Crowley suggested with a yawn, just like he had about three hours prior.
“I’d prefer to stay here.”
Crowley was about to say something a bit rude and grumpy. But then Aziraphale running his fingers though his hair made him pause long enough to rethink his words.
“You could read.” He said, lifting his head to look at him. “You like reading.”
“It’s to dark in here to read Crowley.”
“Turn on the lamp.”
“But you’re trying to sleep.”
Crowley laid his head back on Aziraphale’s chest. It wasn’t as if he would have a harder time sleeping with the lamp on than with Aziraphale talking to him every twenty minutes. Instead of saying that, he settled on: “I don’t mind angel.”
“But then I’ll be lonely.” Aziraphale said.
“Lonely?”
“Yes.”
Crowley weighed the pros and cons of just ignoring Aziraphale. Now, Crowley loved Aziraphale very much and he wasn’t meaning to be grumpy with the angel, but the pestering was beginning to genuinely get on his nerves. He’d wanted to sleep, but he supposed he didn’t technically need it, and there would always be other times. Those other times just may have to be in his car.
Crowley sighed and sat up. “Do you want me to stay up with you?”
“Do you want to do that?” Aziraphale asked, frustratingly so.
“I asked you first.”
“No, I want to sleep with you.” He huffed
“Don’t word it like that.” Crowley said flatly.
“I wish to sleep while you do then.”
“You’re still getting use to sleeping, you might not just be able to fall asleep.” Which should be so obvious, Crowley thought grumpily.
It was quiet again after that.
“I miss you an awful lot when you’re gone.” Aziraphale said quietly, resting his hands on Crowleys back.
“I’m not gone angel, just sleeping,” Crowley mumbled, pretending to not know what Aziraphale was talking about. He did know, of course, but it really, really wasn’t something he wanted to talk about now (or ever).
“That’s not what I mean.” Aziraphale said.
Crowley lifted his head and squinted at Aziraphale (mostly for effect).
“What do you mean then,” He nearly growled, practically non-verbally warning Aziraphale to back off. But of course, Aziraphale just rolled his eyes at his antics and continued regardless.
“When you go off for days, weeks, or more recently: months, without warning. And we never talk about it,” He said. And if Crowley was being honest with himself, the feeling of Aziraphale playing with his hair was the only reason he was still in the room and not halfway to his Bentley.
“I don’t want to talk about that.” He said. Crowley had meant it to come out firm, maybe a little angry sounding for good measure. But his words sounded quiet and pathetic when he said them.
“And we don’t have to,” Aziraphale said softly. “I just wanted you to know that I do miss you.”
Crowley was truly completely speechless, what was he meant to say to that? So he didn’t say anything, he just closed his eyes.
“Crowley?”
“Mm?”
“Are you alright?”
Crowley too a shaky breath, damn him, damn his blasted bastard of an angel. They didn’t ask each other things like that, so why the hell was Aziraphale asking him that like it meant nothing. He could lie, should lie, he’s a demon after all. So why didn’t he want to?
“Not really,” He muttered, keeping his voice quiet to hide the shakiness.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Aziraphale asked.
“I don’t know.” Crowley replied.
Because Crowley really didn’t think there was anything Aziraphale could do to help, because he didn’t actually know what was wrong. It was just some awful feeling of anticipation, like his mind was waiting for some terrible thing to happen. Crowley presumed it was just leftover anxiety from Armageddon, but it had been nearly ten years since then.
“Do you want me to help?”
“You’d be wasting you time.”
“It’s not as if I’m doing anything with it at the moment.”
“You’re trying to sleep.”
“I don’t mind staying up.”
“I’m tired.”
Aziraphale sighed and Crowley thought that was the end of it, he really was tired.
“Crowley?”
“Yesss?” It came out more as a hiss than he’d wanted.
“Would you like space? I can read downstairs until morning”
It was a fair question, because truth be told he did want space. But he didn’t just want to kick Aziraphale out of his own bed.
“You wouldn’t mind?” He asked.
“Not at all.”
Crowley let out a long breath and just nodded. Aziraphale all but petted his hair before whispering: “Alright dear.”
Over the next few minutes Aziraphale gathered some of his things and left the room. Presumably either going to the living room in the flat or downstairs to the shop.
Crowley sighed, shifting to his back and staring at the ceiling. He felt bad for asking Aziraphale to leave, but then again, Aziraphale had been the one who offered.
He turned on his side, grabbing one of the pillows to hold against his chest before finally drifting off to sleep.