Ineffable Husbands One-Shots

Thunderstorms

Aziraphale loathed thunderstorms, ever since that era with Noah's Arch and whatnot the angel was left moderately traumatized. He understood he could never doubt the great one's plan, but occurrences like those always sat wrong with him, yet he never failed to remain silent and obey like the excellent and perfect angel he was.

A good perfect angel...

A loud roar from outside diverted the angel from his book, he jumped and gripped his book to his chest and over his rapidly thumping heart, rain hammered against the windows of his shop and lightning cast shadows in the dimly lit room. Aziraphale took an unstable breath and set his book down on the coffee table across from him with quivering hands, he willed himself to stand and made an effort to evacuate to his room, but when another series of claps of thunder rolled in he found himself frozen in place.

Fear grasped at his heart like a ravenous beast and devoured his whole being, his body shook with panic, his eyes became wet with brisk tears.

Screams echoed in his head, cries of women and children, shouts of men, the gurgling of drowning, the slosh of arms struggling to stay above water, the chokes, coughing, gagging, sobbing.

Aziraphale clutched his head and fell to his knees, he cried his lungs out begging the storm outside to halt, begging God herself to stop. Yet there he persisted, heart thundering in his ribcage, chest heaving for breath. And at that moment Aziraphale preferred to disappear into nothingness, to become one with the sky above or discorporate and never return, oh but how could he do that to Crowley who cried when he thought he had perished in a fire? Bless him and his need to put others above himself, although very unlikely of a demon no less.

Crowley.

Aziraphale, with blurry vision, idly looked around the room and searched for the phone throughout the strobe lights of lightning flashing inside. The angel whimpered and made the decision to just give up on his search, it'd make no difference, after all, he would never be free of the overwhelming guilt that always came over him during a storm. He curled in on himself trying to conceal as much noise as possible, he squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated on attempting to calm himself down.

A rather loud bang suddenly emitted from the other end of the room, the angel let out a shrill wail of despair and didn't dare open his eyes. If this was how he was going to be destroyed, at his weakest and vulnerable position, then so be it. Eventually, he hoped, Crowley would come to accept his fate and move on. "Aziraphale?!" A well-known voice shouted for him with the most panic-filled tone the angel had ever heard, that was saying something seeing as how even with his ears covered he was able to feel the sheer raw emotions of anxiety and concern from the voice.

Despite all that, he lingered in his spot, cowering and whimpering, that is until a large warm hand took hold of one of his shaking shoulders. He recoiled away from the touch as though it burned him and shouted, "Stay away!" His voice shook with panic and his eyes became full dams behind his shut eyelids ready to pour out as soon as he opened them. "Angel, listen to me. You're alright, nothing is here to harm you I'm right here. It's me, Crowley." The demon's voice was low and soothing, and his hands were gentle as they took hold of the angel's own which were clutching clumps of tousled hair.

Crowley gently and thoroughly eased his hands away from his head and lowered them down to his lap. "There you go, much better." Crowley breathed and cupped the angel's cheek, "You can open your eyes angel, it's just me. No one else, I promise." His voice was delicate and considerate and precautious, Aziraphale took a small breath and ever so slowly opened his eyes. In an instant, a stream of tears gushed down his face, the demon shushed him and now fully held the angel's face in his warm hands trying his best to get rid of the innumerable amount of tears.

Aziraphale let out a weak cry and despairingly clutched onto Crowley's jacket. "Crowley dear, I'm so sorry if I troubled you." He blubbered and averted his gaze, the demon resented this distressed expression that took over his angel's face, it didn't suit him at all, not one bit. "Hey now it's alright, just tell me what's disturbing you." He begged wanting nothing more but to end his dear angel's misery. Aziraphale sniffled and separated his trembling lips to speak, "it's nothing really-"

A large crash of thunder cut him short.

He shrieked once more and launched himself at Crowley who almost instantaneously held him close. "Make it stop, please make it stop, make it stop!" He cried wildly into Crowley's chest, the demon's shirt became soddened with tears. Crowley worked promptly, afraid that if he didn't respond quick enough then his angel would spiral into a panic attack, and within mere seconds everything fell silent. Aziraphale recoiled at the subtlety of it and unwillingly pulled himself out of Crowley's shirt, only to be met with obscurity. "Don't be frightened angel, I just encased us with my wings." The demon clarified as he stroked the angel's mess of hair and curls.

Aziraphale almost immediately settled back into the demon's hold and allowed himself to rest against his chest, he was strangely tired, although if he were to clarify that to Crowley the demon would certainly rebuke it on his energy being drained by all his crying. "It'll pass soon, but for now just try to sleep. I know it's not your thing, but I can tell you're exhausted. Just rest, I'll be here. Promise." Crowley's voice was as calming as ever, and his fingers running through the angel's hair was calming and made the angel feel more at peace. "Crowley..." Aziraphale whispered his name, savoring the sensations he felt as the words rolled off his tongue like rich honeydew.

Crowley shushed him once more with a gentler tone and pressed a rare kiss on his temple. "Sssssleep." He softly hissed which sent the angel into a daze that ultimately led to his slumber.

And as the storm went on outside, inside the small cozy little bookshop inhabited a demon clutching his dearest angel to his chest, black as night wings around them, not necessarily protecting the demon, but the angel.

Always the angel.