Ineffable reunion

Rubber duck

Crowley woke up that next morning, not sure what had happened the previous night, only remembering the Polaroid and getting blackout drunk. He sat up, running his hands through his hair that, to his surprise, was quite long. It was tangled and greasy, and was starting to smell, but it was the same length that it was in Eden, he must have done that when he was drunk. A sharp pain shot across his head- "fuck-" this was going to be a bad hangover. He thought about miracling it away, but the pain was a distraction, so he decided to try the human way. He got himself up and looked around, emptied bottles surrounded him. He groaned. Pathetic. This is just so pathetic. He danced around the glass and slipped into the bathroom. He turned on the shower and suddenly he felt sick. He'd never felt sick before. 6,000 years and he'd never felt sick. He hunched over the toilet, his hair held in one hand while the other hand supported his weight. I really fucked up my corporation, didn't I? The demon heaved. What a disgusting feeling. Alcohol from the previous night flooding the toilet as he slouched over, defeated. He caught a glance of himself in the mirror and realized just how weak he was being. He pulled himself back up and undressed, stepping into the warm shower. It felt nice. Some of his scales manifesting where the water hit his skin. He closed his eyes and let the water run through his hair. The demon looked around, you've got to be kidding me. He chuckled as he reached for a little rubber duck sitting on a shelf. What a fucking loser. He smiled, a warm feeling filling him, but not from the shower. What was this feeling? He remembered the time he had asked the angel "what do you mean 'loved'?" And the angel's response. Was this love? Crowley shook his head, setting the rubber duck back down and reaching for some shampoo. He rubbed it into his hair and couldn't help but love the smell. It smelled like his angel, like leather book covers and lavender. He reached for the conditioner, the same lovely smell.

The Metatron opened the door, revealing Aziraphale in his rough state. Muriel gasped, rushing over to him. "Mr. Fell! Oh my- what happened?" Aziraphale smiled weakly at the sight of his friend, they were so kind. The Metatron laughed, "Go back to Earth and take care of that shop- or don't. He won't be needing it." He pushed Muriel out of the room and locked the door with only him and the angel inside. Muriel shuddered when they heard the whip cracking, and they bolted to the elevator. I must tell Mr. Crowley- he can help... right?