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Shivers ran down Aziraphale’s spine, his whole body aching in a way he hadn’t experienced in a long time. Writhing in his chair with his book abandoned on the desk he groaned when another particular shiver wrecked him. He leaned his head back, his hands gripping the edge of the chair in an attempt to make it more bearable. He knew fevers were nasty buggers under the humans, but he was an Angel for Heaven’s sake. He wasn’t supposed to get sick.
Trying to find out how it happened he’d grabbed his diary from the year 1500 when he had battled the first and unfortunately not the only fever, seeing as he was having one now for the second time. Reading back he tried to pinpoint what had made him so sick that time and he quickly discovered he had been poisoned. With help of - obviously - Crowley they had been able to avert a discorporation, but it was a close call. The Demon knew all about poison and revenge with delicious, but deadly kinds of food, so it wasn’t hard for him to find out what was wrong and how to help the Angel.
However, when Aziraphale relived the day in his head he couldn’t find any kind of hint that he had been poisoned again. Besides, any Hellspawn couldn’t get in the bookshop besides Crowley and he would rather discorporate himself than kill his best friend. Or at least that’s what Aziraphale wanted to believe.
He groaned with another strong wave of the fever raging inside him, his skin breaking out in painful goosebumps. His body was overheated, yet he felt so cold that he was shivering. His muscles were sore and every joint in his body ached. He left a voicemail for Crowley when he hadn’t picked up and he prayed to God that he was on his way.
Trying to stand he carefully got up, his legs wobbly and not at all reliable to use. He was too weak to perform any miracles, but he was so desperate for his soft, tartan blanket to warm him up. It was in the back of the shop, draped over the stairs for easy access and he shuffled forward. Unfortunately he didn’t have a bookshelf or anything else in reach to lean on and he immediately collapsed on the floor, crying out from the painful collision with the wooden surface.
‘Azira- Angel!’ Crowley’s worried voice rang through the shop and Aziraphale could cry from relief that he was finally here. If he hadn’t known better he thought Crowley had miracled himself here, but he knew that he drove a 90 miles per hour at least through London, so that made it easy to be here in a few minutes.
‘Oh shit, what happened to you? You’re burning up,’ Crowley asked, gently putting his arms around the trembling Angel and lifting him up from the floor. ‘C-cold…it h-hurts,’ Aziraphale whimpered, immediately seeking out the warmth of the Demon. ‘Iz okay, Aziraphale. I got you. You’re gonna be fine.’ He looked around to find a place where he could lay him down, but besides the chair or the sofa there wasn’t anything comfortable for someone with a fever to relax on.
‘Alright, bed it is. Up you go.’ Crowley walked up the stairs, carrying him like he didn’t weigh anything and if Aziraphale hadn’t felt so sick and weak he would’ve swooned. He rested his burning cheek against Crowley’s chest, his familiar scent filling his nostrils. It calmed him down a little and he sighed, trying to relax. Crowley kept muttering reassurances, effortlessly finding his way to Aziraphale’s mostly unused bedroom.
It had a queen sized bed, complete with tartan bed sheets and a nightstand on both sides. On it were two identical, golden brown lamps and an off-white bedspread was draped over the blankets. A big, deep brown closet stood on the other side of the wall, but it only held a few pieces of clothing and some belongings from centuries ago that Aziraphale couldn’t say goodbye to. There were some shelves with books on them, his own personal favorites he’d stumbled on through the years.
Surprisingly there was carpet instead of the hard wooden floor and it was a beige color, the texture soft on the bare feet of those who had permission to enter. A single plant stood on the windowsill, thriving in the love and attention it had gotten from the Angel. It started shaking just a little when Crowley entered and received a hard glare from the Demon.
Aziraphale shivered again when he was placed on the - what felt like freezing - cold sheets, trying to stay close to Crowley. ´Sshh, I need to change your clothes first, Az.´ Crowley pulled away, and Aziraphale could hear him rummaging through the things in his closet. ´For fucks sake, why isn´t there anything useful?´ he complained grumpily and snapped his fingers.Next to Aziraphale a soft fleece pajama appeared on the bed and Crowley groaned.
‘I swear, this bookshop messes with my miracles all the time.’ He came closer and started working on the many layers Aziraphale was wearing. It was painful to have the fingertips touch his bare skin, but as soon as he was stripped down and was dressed in the incredibly soft, albeit dark gray pajamas he sighed with relief. The blankets were pulled back and then he was tucked in, basking in the warmth Crowley was trying to radiate through the layers of wool.
‘There you go. Rest now, Aziraphale. I’ll be here,’ Crowley’s soft voice said and Aziraphale sighed in contentment, pressing his warm forehead against the gentle touch of Crowley’s hand. Within moments he was passed out, falling into a deep, restless sleep…
The next two days passed in a blur. Aziraphale woke up every now and then from weird fever dreams and having hallucinations about the last unicorn and Crowley running off with his books. There was one time where he kept asking Crowley to stop the hellfire burning inside him and to kiss it better, which made Crowley worried about the high temperature the fever caused. Plus the mild gay panic Aziraphale gave him when asking to be kissed.
No matter how much of a Demon Crowley was, he would never take their first kiss with Aziraphale half unconscious and delirious.
Everything was hurting and the Angel was in pure agony, but luckily the Demon was right by his side to calm him down and make sure he was drinking some water. He quickly figured out it wasn’t some kind of poison, but simply a virus. How it happened that Aziraphale was actually influenced by it at all was still a riddle, but it had made Crowley lose his worry about it being caused by poison and now he knew what to do.
He made sure he had cool washcloths to wipe his forehead, neck and chest in an attempt to get the fever to go down. Sometimes the Demon took a nap right next to Aziraphale, waking up with the Angel koalafying him, but he wouldn’t have the strength - or the heart - to pull away from him. Instead he’d turn into the huge, dark snake he was to let the coolness of his scales sink into the red, fevered skin.
Sometimes he would simply brush his fingers through his hair, especially when he was having dreams and seemed in pain. Other times he would simply exist and press soft kisses on his forehead. He was allowed that much with everything he did, right?
It was on the third night that Aziraphale’s fever finally broke, his body covered with sweat. He babbled weird, affectionate things in Crowley’s ear and the Demon made a face seeing his side was just as soaked. Snapping his fingers he was able to clean them both and the bed this time and he tried pulling away from the - surprisingly - strong embrace. Clearly the Angel had gotten some of his power back into his arms. He turned on the lamp on his bedside table and noticed he looked a little pale, but wasn’t panting as much as he used to do.
‘Aziraphale?’ Crowley whispered while sitting up and leaning on his elbow, watching him closely. His eyelids fluttered open, blue eyes that seemed so out of it now holding more focus. Licking his dry lips Aziraphale slowly turned towards his friend, taking in his appearance. ‘C-Crowley?’ he asked, almost as if he was shocked he had survived. ‘Yes, Angel. I’m right here,’ Crowley answered with a relieved smile, taking Aziraphale’s hand in his.
‘Fuck- you scared me,’ he confessed, closing his eyes and releasing a deep breath. Aziraphale squeezed his hand and cleared his throat. ‘Terribly sorry, my dear. I have no idea what happened. Was I poisoned again?’ Crowley shook his head. ‘No, just an ordinary virus, but I don’t get why you were affected by it. We don’t do the flu and shit.’ Aziraphale hummed, his thumb rubbing reassuringly over Crowley’s knuckles.
They were silent for a moment and Crowley watched Aziraphale’s eyes droop. Out of habit he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss on his forehead. He could feel Aziraphale freeze and he was frozen too, lips still on the warm, slightly salty skin. He shot up, immediately creating some distance between them. ‘Right. Sleep. You. Uh, need it. You I mean. Gah- ’
‘Good night, my dear. I hope that tomorrow you won’t miss,’ Aziraphale interrupted him and Crowley blinked, confused until he watched Aziraphale lick his lips as a silent hint. Crowley swallowed, sitting there in the low light while the Angel turned on his side to sleep again, not letting go of his hand.
And in the morning, when they both woke up tangled in a warm embrace and Aziraphale looked a little better, Crowley indeed didn’t miss.