Chapter Text
It had been millennia since Crowley had figured out, he had a little headspace. The first time had been after the Flood; thousands of humans were dead, drowned by God in the name of the greater good, even innocent children had been swept from the earth. The ground was damp, dark, and cold, Noah and his family were long gone, along with that nice angel. The sky was finally clear and bright, the unicorn had left to mourn its mate.
Crawley was alone, she was completely alone and completely overwhelmed with everything that had happened. It was too much, too complicated, too messy too dark. Crawley thought about the children she had seen before, how carefree they had been, how they had others to care for them. She wished she could have experienced such a simple thing, to be held, cared for, and not be blamed for any mistakes.
Before she knew it, Crawley was fiddling with a piece of her robe that had found its way into her hand, the way she had seen children do, the motion was soothing in a way she hadn’t known it could be. A quick glance around assured her that no was close by, so with a sigh Crawley had sunk to the ground gently rubbing the edge of her robe against her face while letting all the big thoughts go for later.
This was just the start. In the following centuries, Crowley would find themselves rubbing their fingers over a piece of cloth. If that wasn’t enough, and they were in public, they would begin rocking themselves slightly just enough to soothe without someone catching on. Crowley had learned early on that most humans didn’t take kindly to ‘adults’ displaying ‘childish’ tendencies. It had been a rather harsh lesson involving lots of shouting and rocks being thrown at them. So only in private would they let their thumb start to migrate towards their mouth to be gently sucked as they lay curled in their bed wishing for someone to care for them.
At first, these urges were sporadic, coming on without any warning and causing more than a few close calls with demons, angels, and humans alike. Eventually, Crowley began to notice a bit of a pattern; whenever a situation was overwhelming or stressful, they would feel the need to soothe themselves. The more stressful the situation the faster they would begin to drop into their headspace and the longer it would last. Crowley began hiding small things to soothe themselves within their clothes if something happened and they needed the stay big. Visits to Downstairs often consisted of clutching a comfort item in their pocket while giving their report. Followed by days spent (wherever they were living) deep in their headspace, crying silent tears because no one would ever come to soothe them.
Nightmares and sickness could also push Crowley into his headspace, then even after they had passed, he often stayed in little space for a day or two longer. During his stint as the black knight, a rather bad fever came on because a) he was a snake demon and b) it was bloody cold and damp there. Luckily, he had felt the illness coming on and had been able to come up with an excuse for his inevitable absence from his party, then soundproof his tent before the fever rose and he dropped. It had been a miserable week and half-filled with fever dreams of angels coming to care for him then waking alone again and again.
Over the centuries, Crowley had collected a few items to help him when he did drop. He always made sure to hide them away whenever he wasn’t in his headspace. After his argument with Aziraphale in Saint James, Crowley slept curled under his blanky that was covered in hand-stitched stars and cried for the loss of the one person who made him feel safe, till he had no more tears to shed.
With the rise of technology and Hell being able to pop into his life whenever they pleased, after a few too-close calls Crowley made sure to keep his comfort items away from any piece of tech and became even warier of letting himself indulge in them.
Then came Armageddon.
That had to have been one of the most trying decades of her long life, watching little Warlock do all the things she wished to do but could only pretend to like for his sake, then indulge in them alone. Then there was that week leading up to the End. Crowley was sure his jacket hem would never be the same after all the worrying he had done to it while no one was looking. The bandstand and bookshop fire had been particularly bad but he had held it together. Through a burning Bently, facing the four horsemen, switching bodies with Aziraphale and then a toast to the world.
Crowley held himself together, forcing himself to stay big, to figure out the mess that they were in. It was the longest he had ever gone while being so stressed without dropping so it was really no surprise that when he did drop. It was so fast and deep that there was nothing he could have done to predict the fallout of it all.
***
It was a week after the almost-end-of-times and Crowley was enjoying the day. Yes, it was a bit chilly and cloudy (it was becoming fall) but he was out with Aziraphale. They had just finished feeding the ducks and had been about to go grab dinner when the angel had spotted a hot cider vendor and decided to get some for them. A cold breeze brushed past him and Crowley sneezed. Fuck, he hated the cold. It made him feel small, at least it wasn’t raining.
Aziraphale was just approaching Crowley, a smile on his face and two cups of cider in his hands when there was a clap of thunder overhead. A heartbeat later the sky had opened up releasing a torrent of ice-cold rain. Another heartbeat had said glacial water soaking straight through Crowley's thin layers and completely chilling the cold-blooded demon. The shock of cold did its job as the angel’s eyes widened and a full-body shudder tore through Crowley’s corporation followed by a sneeze that rivaled the thunder. His warmth was quickly leching from him, and with it, his bigger consciousness. He could feel himself dropping into little space and there was nothing he could do to stop it. S hit, he just had to jinx it, didn’t he?
~~~~
Oh, dear, Aziraphale saw the moment chilling rain hit his demon; he saw the color leach from already pale skin. he saw how Crowley’s entire body trembled then went still as it tried to conserve heat. He rushed over, cursing himself for not check the weather report for the day, it seemed to take forever, but it was only a moment before he there.
Crowley’s eyes were glazed and he wasn’t responding to the angel’s voice, Aziraphale placed a hand on clammy skin.
The already thoroughly chilled demon leaned into his touch. “Warm.”
Aziraphale sighed, at least he was somewhat here. “Let’s get you back to your flat darling.”
“Nooooo.” Was the whined reply “itsss cold, want w’rm” His words began to slur at the end, as the clearly feverish demon pressed more heavily into his hand.
“Well in that case...” With a snap, they were in Aziraphale’s bookshop, the warm familiar air greeting them. He glanced down at Crowley who was now curled in his arms, white as parchment with a blue tinge to his lips and absently rubbing his fingers over the cuff of his sleeve.
This wouldn’t do, much longer and they could be in real danger. As carefully as he could, Aziraphale set his precious bundle down on the couch and snapped it to be long enough for his demon. This was deemed unnecessary as Crowley curled into a tight ball shivering. This wouldn’t do. Another snap had flames filling the fireplace, another summoned a pile of blankets and pillows, one more, and wet clinging clothes were replaced with warm woolen pj’s.
“Here we are dearest.” He shook out one of the blankets and draped it over the trembling demon, followed by several more, then Aziraphale gently tucked a pillow under Crowley’s head and carefully removed the shades from his face.
Blurry golden eyes blinked slowly up at him as Crowley snuggled into the soft blankets “Angel?”
Aziraphale knelt down so they were level “Yes my dear?”
A sneeze tore through the poor dear’s corporation, followed by a rather pitiful cough. “Stay?”
Surprised by this request the angel blinked, “Of course dear.”
Big almost child-like eyes gazed at him in desperate pleading. “Forever?” The corner of the blanket was now being rubbed against pale cheeks, it seemed like a strange way to warm one's self, but Aziraphale smiled. Sure, that Crowley wouldn’t remember this when he was feeling better, the angel let himself be honest.
“Forever and always my dearest, I'll never leave you.” Crowley didn’t look like he quite believed him but nodded his eyes drifting closed as he did. Aziraphale waited until he was sure the other was asleep before he stood to go grab some tea.
***
Just as he was pouring the boiling water into his mug the angel heard a strange noise coming from the backroom. Confused Aziraphale collected his tea and went to investigate. The sight that met him was equal parts adorable and confusing. Crowley was tangled in the blankets, eyes half-open, and seemed to be desperately searching for something.
“Crowley?” Aziraphale set his tea on a side table as he approached. “Darling what are you looking for?”
Clouded golden eyes looked up and through him clearly not seeing the angel before him. “Hankie.” He mumbled his searching becoming erratic and worried as Aziraphale knelt beside him.
“Hanky?” The angel echoed, concerned for his demon’s well-being.
“Uh-huh.” Crowley nodded eyes still only half-open, hands stilling as he spoke like it took all of his concentration to form words. “Handkerchief soft, soft like angel.”
Wanting to keep him as calm as possible Aziraphale asked. “And where was the last place you had this hanky?” He smiled as the obviously delirious demon’s nose crinkled in thought.
“Uhhhhh. It, it was...” Crowley was rubbing a corner of the blanket against his cheek again as he tried to think. “Oh!” The blanket fell from his fingers “Was in jacket!”
Aziraphale chuckled at the enthusiasm as Crowley’s thin hands began to pat at his torso like he was searching his jacket pockets. The angel had miracled all of their wet clothes upstairs to be washed later but he hadn’t seen such a thing sticking from any of the pockets. Yet, stranger things had happened than Aziraphale not noticing something. So, with a mental shrug and a quick snap, he soon held the handkerchief, freshly laundered, in his hand.
“Here you are darling.” Before he could blink, the square of fabric had been snatched from his proffered hand and was in was being held ridiculously close to Crowley’s face. It was a light cream color, extremely different from the demon's usual preference, with a faded pattern that Aziraphale couldn’t make out. Crowley was now squinting at it as if he was trying to see if it was really there. After a moment of scrutiny and a sniff, a smile appeared that Aziraphale hadn’t seen in millennia as Crowley hugged the lightly colored handkerchief to his heart.
He sighed. “Soft.” The demon relaxed, snuggling back down into the blankets, eyes sliding closed again as he murmured. “Like angel.”
And if that wasn’t the softest thing Aziraphale had ever seen he wasn’t sure what was. After a moment of gazing at the dozing redhead, taking in the way the light played along his hair, the angel stood to recollect his tea. He had just sat down in his armchair, tea in one hand a book in the other, when a thought crossed his mind. The fabric of that handkerchief looked extremely familiar. Shaking off the thought for later, Aziraphale settled in for a night of reading and keeping an eye on his demon.