An Ineffable Love Story

Drunk On This Pain 🩶

It had started with dreams.

Crowley would wake up every night, his skin slick with sweat, breathless, tear tracks down his face. His mind was plagued by variations of the same situation — he was alone. Sometimes Aziraphale had been taken away from him, other times he had left him, and, worst of all, occasionally he dreamed that the angel had gone to Heaven with the Metatron and their relationship had never happened in the first place. This was the most tortuous for Crowley, because he did not even have the memories of the last beautiful six months. Whatever lay ahead of him, at least he could take comfort in recalling what it felt like to be with Aziraphale, what it was like to be loved, to be safe. For the first time in his life, Crowley was truly happy.

However horrible his dreams were, Crowley was always hurled back into reality. Once he had gotten his bearings, cracked open his eyes, he would remember that he was in Aziraphale's — no, their — bookshop, and listen to the angel's soft breathing as he slept. Crowley would roll over, snuggle into Aziraphale, and drink in the moment until he drifted off.

But the lack of rest and horrific visions were starting to take its toll. Crowley was always exhausted, but terrified to try to doze in the daytime, and even more unwilling at night. Since he was partially a snake, he needed quite a lot of sleep, and had become accustomed to having at least one nap per day, preferably using Aziraphale as a pillow. Now he was extremely irritable, and had begun to drink massive amounts of caffeine to keep himself awake, as a result of which he had become twitchy and hyper.

Worst of all, Crowley had not told Aziraphale what was going on. The angel could tell that something was obviously wrong with him, but, since he had no idea of the cause, had started to wonder if the demon was getting bored of him. The life of a demon was surely very different to their current existence in a cozy bookshop, sleeping late, strolling through the park, getting coffee across the street. Perhaps Crowley wanted to leave Aziraphale, and was just working up the courage to break it to him?

The angel paced the bedroom floor, flapping his hands anxiously and mumbling to himself. Fear was worming its way inside him, and his brain was starting to become paranoid. Everything Crowley did was a signal that he wanted to break up, that Aziraphale went much too slowly for him. He climbed into bed, pulling the covers up to his chin.

The door swung open and Crowley strode in. He changed wordlessly into his black silk pyjamas, then slid in next to the angel. Aziraphale tried to kiss him, but he turned away, lying down with his back to him.

This is it. Aziraphale had had enough of Crowley's behaviour, and suddenly anger flared within him, an unfamiliar and unpleasant feeling. "What's wrong with you?" he demanded, folding his arms. "You're always grumpy now, you never want to do anything with me. What is it? Are you having an affair? Are you planning on leaving? Talk to me, Crowley!" The angel's voice was growing louder and more high-pitched as he spoke.

Icy fear spread through Crowley's veins. "N-no," he stammered, "it's nothing like that. It's just— I'm fine. Just leave it."

Aziraphale saw red. "Well, if you're going to be like that, maybe you should go!"

"Maybe I will!" Crowley had raised his voice too. He leapt up, stormed across the room, and slammed the door shut behind him.

Aziraphale was stunned. He and Crowley hadn't had a big fight since they had gotten together, and all of his rage was melting away, replaced by shame and hurt. Why had he said those things, been so horrible? Miserably, he snuggled down and pulled the duvet over his head.

Crowley stood at the foot of the staircase, feeling numb. Why couldn't he tell the angel what was going on? Was he ashamed? The only thing Crowley knew right now was that he didn't want to leave the bookshop. He had nowhere to go, and besides, he wanted to stay close to Aziraphale, even if they weren't speaking. Slowly, he padded over to the couch and lay down.

•••

Crowley sat up, panting. It's OK, he told himself. It was just a dream. Aziraphale's right—

The angel was not beside him.

Memories of their argument from the night before flooded his mind. It had happened for real this time. Aziraphale was gone. Crowley's stomach felt leaden, and a wave of nausea passed over him. He had ruined everything, just like he always did. Tears spilled down his cheeks, and he buried his head in his knees, clutching his legs tightly as if he would fall apart if he let go. His body was racked with violent sobs, which he did not think would ever stop.

Upstairs, Aziraphale was woken by sounds from the bookshop below. He rubbed his eyes blearily, trying to work out what was happening. It was Crowley, he realised, and he was weeping, letting out the cries of a tortured soul, which broke Aziraphale's heart. The angel got up and descended the creaky wooden staircase to find Crowley curled up in a ball on the sofa, shaking.

"Oh, my darling!" Aziraphale rushed over to him, put his arms around him as if he was trying to keep all the broken pieces of Crowley together. "Please tell me what's wrong. I'm so sorry for what I said, and I don't want you to go. I want you to stay with me, always." He gently rubbed Crowley's back in an attempt to soothe him.

Gradually, Crowley's wails subsided, and he raised his head to look at the angel. "I—" His voice was a hoarse whisper, his throat raw. He tried again. "I'm really sorry," he said quietly, turning his gaze to the floor. "It's just— For the past few weeks, I've been having these nightmares, and I just don't want to sleep because it's too painful."

"But what could be so horrible?" Aziraphale wore a concerned expression.

"Losing you." The angel was shocked, and his own pale-blue eyes welled up. "And tonight I thought it had actually happened," Crowley continued.

Aziraphale cupped Crowley's hot, tear-stained face with his hands. "I will never leave you," he said, his voice soft but firm. "And I hope you never leave me, either." Crowley shook his head. "I love you so, so much." He gently kissed the demon's lips, which tasted faintly of salt.

"I love you too, Angel," replied Crowley, when they had broken apart.

"Now, come back to bed," Aziraphale told him, gripping Crowley's hand and leading him up the staircase. The angel tucked him up, making sure to give him an extra blanket, then slid in beside him. Aziraphale wrapped his arms around the demon, stroking his hair, and eventually Crowley fell asleep in his angel's embrace.

🖤🤍

~1178 words~This one is a bit sad but also sweet. I really hope you like it — I wanted to write an argument between them which did make me really sad but also I love it when Crowley has feelings! I'll post the next part soon! xx