Chapter Text
“Angel?!” Crowley whined from the bedroom. He coughed, whimpering when his sore throat protested. He tried to loosen up his sore and stiff neck as his anxiety caused his already elevated heart rate to spike. He rubbed his head, attempting to help with his headache.
Aziraphale heard his husband calling for him from his library. He sighed, setting his book aside and got up to shuffle into their bedroom. “Yes, dear?”
“I'm dying,” Crowley whimpered dramatically, trying to curl up under the covers.
Aziraphale frowned as he regarded his physician husband lying in the bed. Aziraphale sighed as he came and sat down next to Crowley. “Honestly, Anthony,” he said. “I think you know you're not actually dying.” He did reach out and started soothingly petting through Crowley's auburn hair.
“It feels like it,” Crowley muttered. He looked up at Aziraphale with wide golden eyes. “I'm sick. I need my A&E doctor husband to take care of me.”
“You're a doctor too, you fiend,” Aziraphale replied.
“A gynecologist,” Crowley muttered. “‘S not the same…”
Aziraphale let out a breath but didn't stop his soothing pets as Crowley coughed again. He heard some rattling in his husband's breath as he tried to clear his throat. “Is this related to the cough and sore throat you've been complaining about these past few days?”
Crowley nodded, continuing to cough. He sat up and reached for a tissue to blow his nose. “I think I'm sick,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “Maybe a touch of a respiratory virus.”
“Hmm…” Aziraphale gently patted his husband's shoulder and then stood. “I'll be right back, dear.” He went and retrieved his medical bag from the store by their front door.
When Aziraphale returned to the bedroom, Crowley was coughing into a tissue. He pulled it away and groaned. “Yellow with a bit of blood,” he whispered, looking over at Aziraphale. “Do you need to see it?”
Aziraphale shook his head. “No, Anthony,” he said. “I trust you know what you're looking at.”
“The blood is likely from my severely irritated throat,” Crowley muttered. “Hurts to talk…”
“Will you let me examine you?” Aziraphale asked softly. His husband nodded so Aziraphale opened his medical bag and pulled out his pulse oximeter. Crowley let him place it on the middle finger of his right hand. “Do you have any other symptoms, other than the mucus in your throat and the cough?”
“Touch of a headache, stiff and sore neck…” Crowley muttered, staring down at the pulse oximeter. His O2 sat was normal but his heart rate was high at 102 beats per minute. “Bit tachy too…”
“How's your anxiety, Anthony?” Aziraphale asked as he removed the pulse oximeter from Crowley's finger. “I'm assuming that stiff neck is setting off alarm bells in your head?”
Crowley looked over at his physician husband and nodded, knowing that there was no hiding his health anxiety from him. “Meningitis?” he asked, worried.
“Not likely, dear,” Aziraphale said, trying to reassure him. “But let me finish the exam before I decide if you need any tests to rule it out.”
“Okay, angel.”
Aziraphale grabbed his pen light next. “Where in your head is the headache?”
“Forehead,” Crowley replied, bringing his hand up to press on it. “Here.”
Aziraphale nodded and clicked on the pen light. He was not concerned about his husband's headache. “Alright, darling. Open your mouth, stick out your tongue and say ‘ah’ for me, please.”
Crowley obeyed and Aziraphale quickly checked his throat and tonsils for signs of infection. They looked extremely irritated but not infected. “Very good,” Aziraphale praised softly. “Your throat is irritated but doesn't look to be infected.” He set the light aside. “Tilt your head up for me. I'm going to check your lymph nodes.”
Crowley did this, noticing that his neck pain appeared to be only on the left side. Perhaps he had slept in an awkward position and that is why it was stiff. This reassured him a bit. He took a breath before Aziraphale started the exam.
Aziraphale reached out and gently palpated down his husband's neck with his fingers, starting at his jawline. He didn't feel any enlarged lymph nodes, nor did Crowley indicate that any of them were tender to the touch. Aziraphale smiled softly as he reached back into his medical bag to pull out his ear thermometer. “Just a quick temperature check,” he said soothingly as he put a lens cover on the thermometer and gently placed it in Crowley's right ear.
It beeped back at them and Aziraphale quickly checked it. “Normal,” he said and disposed of the used lens cover. “I highly doubt you have meningitis. This is looking more like a common cold.” He picked up his stethoscope next. “I want to listen to your lungs, dear.”
Crowley sighed but nodded before coughing again. Aziraphale patiently waited for his husband's cough to subside before putting on his stethoscope and placing it on Crowley's back. “Deep breaths, Anthony,” he instructed quietly.
Crowley obeyed, breathing for his husband while Aziraphale moved the stethoscope across his back and then his chest. “Good, just breathe normally now.” Aziraphale took one last listen before pulling away and removing his stethoscope. He set it aside. “Your lungs are clear. I believe you have a cold, darling. How painful is it to move your neck?”
“It's not severe, angel,” Crowley muttered. “Just uncomfortable.” He cleared his throat and whimpered at the sharp pain. “Ugh…hurts…” He curled back up in the bed.
“Do you want to stay in bed and rest, my love?” Aziraphale asked gently.
“I want to be comforted…” Crowley whined.
Aziraphale reached over and tenderly cupped his husband's cheek. “Do you want to go to the couch? I will sit with you.”
“Yeah,” Crowley sighed, wanting to be close to his husband.
“You go and get comfortable on the couch and I'll get you some tablets to help you feel better,” Aziraphale kissed Crowley's cheek before standing and grabbing his bag. He went to their medical store to find some cold tablets for his husband.
Crowley sat up again and wandered out of the bedroom to the living room. He grabbed one of his husband's throw blankets before lying down on the lounge part of the couch. He covered himself and curled up, waiting for Aziraphale to join him.
Aziraphale came into the living room a few moments later, carrying a bottle of cold relief tablets and a glass of iced water. “Here you are, dear,” he said as he sat down next to Crowley. He handed him the cup of water. “Drink some of that, Anthony. I don't need to tell you that it'll help your throat.” Crowley nodded and gratefully took a drink, groaning when the cold water went down his irritated throat.
Aziraphale opened the bottle of tablets and fished out two of them. “These are cold medicine tablets with ibuprofen,” he said as he placed them in Crowley's open palm. “Are you alright with these or do you want me to see if there's any with paracetamol instead?”
“These are fine, sweetheart,” Crowley whispered before taking them with a gulp of the water. He set the water down on the coffee table and sighed, flopping back on the sofa with a whine.
Aziraphale settled down after setting the medicine bottle aside and immediately found himself with an arm full of his husband. “Have you eaten, darling?” He smiled fondly down at his husband as Crowley buried his face in Aziraphale's shoulder and inhaled the scent of his cologne on his soft cardigan. Crowley shook his head. “I'll make you some soup later. You need to increase your fluid intake.”
“I know,” Crowley muttered.
Aziraphale rubbed up and down his husband's back. Crowley whimpered quietly. “Hush, Anthony,” he soothed. “You're alright…just rest.”
“My throat hurts so much…” Crowley coughed a few times, groaning in pain.
“I know, dear,” Aziraphale said, gently. “The medicine will help, you just need to give it time.” He shifted Crowley and his husband clung more tightly to him. “Did you really think that you might have had meningitis?”
“It crossed my mind,” Crowley replied. “I knew it wasn't likely though…but needed reassurance.”
“You wanted to be taken care of,” Aziraphale said.
His husband sighed, but nodded. “Needed my doctor husband,” Crowley whispered.
Aziraphale smiled softly. “I do not take joy in knowing that you are sick, my love,” he said. “But I do like caring for you because I know it helps you feel better.” He gently threaded his hand into Crowley's locks and petted over his scalp.
“I like caring for you too, when you're sick, angel,” Crowley muttered. “Helps me too…” He yawned.
“Rest, Anthony,” Aziraphale whispered, turning his head and pressing a kiss to Crowley's temple. “You should feel a bit better when you wake up.”
“Can I stay here?” Crowley muttered.
“Of course,” Aziraphale said, gently encouraging his husband to put his head down on his shoulder.
Crowley obeyed, resting against him. “Love you, Aziraphale. Thank you for helping me.”
“You're welcome, my dear. Now, please do get some rest. You need it.” Aziraphale kissed his cheek again while Crowley settled in to try and get some sleep.