[ Aziraphale sleeps for nearly a day. He wakes only because he's starving, stomach rumbling as he opens his eyes, disoriented and confused. It's not the first sign of life he's made in the past twenty hours or so; he'd shifted a bit, mumbled something indistinguishable. But mostly he'd been still and quiet. The sleep of the dead.
The room is mostly dark, the only light coming from the cracked-open door into the main room, and he sits up slowly, trying to remember where he is, what's going on. He's...he'd been dying. That was it. He does not remember the room well enough to recognize it now as Crowley's.
A blanket falls down from his chest as he sits up, and his shoes are lined up neatly at the edge of the bed. Aziraphale rubs at his eyes, staring down at them dumbly.
This isn't Heaven. He knows that much. Or...or perhaps there's no way back from Heaven, for angels who die here, outside of Her domain. He makes a small noise of distress, pulling at the blanket and managing to get his legs tangled up in it for a moment before finally freeing himself. He pads to the door barefoot, quiet and uncertain, and peeks through, stomach tight with apprehension about what he might see. ]
[Golden eyes watch, glowing almost catlike in the dark like twin points of flame, as Aziraphale - for the first time in almost a full twenty-four hours - sits up.
He doesn't like to think about what he's been doing for the last twenty hours. Mostly sitting and watching Aziraphale. He napped a little bit himself, eventually, because watching someone sleep was the number one way to become sleepy oneself.
It had taken the better part of a single nail-biting hour with no improvement or decline in Aziraphale's condition, before the angel had murmured something and rolled onto his side and it had occurred to Crowley that oh.
He wasn't in a coma at all.
He was just asleep, stupid git.]
I've got to get you to sleep more often, angel.
[He doesn't sit up from his spot lying on the empty Ricky and Lucy bed on the other side of the room, but he props his head up on one arm and rests the other arm in the pronounced dip of his waist when he's lying on one side.
Even knowing that Aziraphale was most likely asleep, Crowley didn't like the thought of leaving him alone.]
[ Aziraphale jumps, jerking around to stare wide-eyed at Crowley on the other bed. He hadn't even noticed him on his way to the door, he'd been so out of it. ]
Oh, Crowley, you scared me!
[ And then his brain starts to catch up, one step at a time, past the utter unquestionable normality of Crowley being there, talking to him. ]
[Crowley is doing the "conceal don't feel" thing he does where he pointedly ignores his own issues because they feel a little silly in the light of day.
Which is to say, he's a little sheepish about having carried on so now that he has confirmation that there was nothing wrong with Aziraphale after all.
So he lounges all the more, turning onto his back and pushing himself up into a reclined sprawl.]
Yup. [He pops the 'p'.] Dead to the world. About a day, actually.
Hungry, angel? Would have brought you breakfast in bed, but I didn't think you'd want to wake up alone.
[Not to mention he didn't actually know when Aziraphale was going to wake up.]
[ Aziraphale has never attempted to conceal a feeling in his life. He stands there in front of the door, wringing his hands, feeling a bit ridiculous in his stockinged feet.
His stomach does a funny sort of flip when Crowley talks about breakfast in bed and not wanting to wake up alone, but he shoves that firmly back in favor of the larger issue. Much larger, certainly, than the fact that Crowley had apparently been lying there, waiting for Aziraphale to wake up. ]
Don't be ridiculous, I don't sleep. I've never slept in my life, why would I start now?
[Finally Crowley makes the transition to sitting up properly, one arm bent around his raised knee.]
I don't know, but people don't usually snore in comas.
[Even without his glasses, the darkness does a lot to obscure his expression. Not in any kind of sinister way, but it's at least an admirable job done to tamp down on his worry.]
[ Oh, he gets a dirty look for that. But it quickly turns petulant, even worried, as Aziraphale slowly wanders over and perches at the foot of Crowley's bed (only because it's closer to the door, of course). ]
I felt...I felt terrible. I thought I was dying. But now...
[ He looks down at his hands, steady, not shaking as they had been before. His mind is clear and so is his vision. He doesn't feel cold all over anymore, or as if he's about to fall over. ]
[When Aziraphale comes over to sit at the foot of Crowley's bed, he's close enough to see the worried look in his eyes. I thought you were dying, the look says. You scared me.]
You passed out in my bed. And...stayed that way. Far as I know. Once I was sure you were just sleeping, I might've dozed off a bit myself.
[He sits up fully, folding his legs in a pretzel on the mattress.]
[ Aziraphale sees that look in Crowley's eyes, and shifts his own gaze away, feeling unaccountably guilty. He'd scared himself, but scaring Crowley is so much worse.
Sleeping. It still doesn't make sense. There's no reason for it. But he must have slept, if Crowley says so. And it does seem to have fixed whatever was wrong with him. ]
Better.
[ He slides one hand along his thigh, squirming a little bit in embarrassment. ]
[Crowley doesn't like the way that Aziraphale averts his gaze, squirms in place like a butterfly that sees the pin coming.
But having Aziraphale passed out in his bed for the better part of a day has knocked Crowley off-kilter, unsure and reluctant to try and rock the boat just yet. So he stays where he is, although his fingers clench a little with the effort it takes not to reach out to Aziraphale.]
...Then come on, let's get a spot of- Well, food, anyway. What time is it? Hard to tell on the moon.
[ Aziraphale laughs, a little helplessly, shaking his head. He's still rattled by the whole thing, still not quite sure what's happening to him. What if something really is wrong, and sleeping had been only a temporary stopgap? ]
I'm sure I don't know, Crowley. How would I?
[ It's not said cruelly, though. He doesn't reach out to Crowley either, but he almost feels as if he wants to. As if it would be a comfort, for Crowley to take his hand, or even embrace him, reassure him that everything was all right...
[ It's not of course, and they both, he thinks, know it. No one else would have waited so patiently, for hours and hours not knowing when Aziraphale might wake. ]
Thank you, Crowley.
It...it did make me feel better. It does.
[ Both the reassuring normality of having Crowley there - not only in this particular instance, of course, but here, in this strange place. He can't imagine how lost and lonely he might have been, had he been pulled here all on his own...
Not only that, but something else, too. The thought of Crowley looking over him whilst he slept, guarding him, keeping him safe - even if there's nothing here to be kept safe from. It makes him feel protected, looked after, even loved, a feeling of warmth suffusing through him.
He looks sideways at Crowley, hesitating - this hadn't gone well the last time he'd attempted a similar compliment - but after a moment, he decides to go for it. ]
[It doesn't go completely uncontested this time, either, although his protest only goes so far as glancing away and scoffing.]
Shut up. Got a reputation to uphold.
[The agitated feeling in the pit of his stomach - what he'd dismissed as worry, before Aziraphale woke up - isn't going away, however, and has gotten only stronger since Aziraphale mentioned food.
He doesn't like it.
He rolls to his feet and offers Aziraphale a hand up.]
Let's go get something to eat. Been cooped up in this room too long.
[ He doesn't point out that Crowley doesn't have any reputation at all here, or that Hell and its agents are far away. Instead he just smiles, taking the offered hand gratefully and just a touch too eagerly. ]
Oh, yes, please, I don't know when I was last this hungry.
[Once he helps Aziraphale up, Crowley finds his sunglasses and his shoes and shrugs on his jacket, buying time for Aziraphale to put his shoes on as well.]
Shall we play Russian Roulette with the robot in the canteen, or take the further walk into town for some hearty medieval fare?
[ Now that he's rested, the thought of a walk across town doesn't seem nearly so insurmountable as even climbing the flights of stairs to Crowley's room had just a day before. Aziraphale shuffles into his shoes - the human way; they'd both learned fairly quickly that miracles were something to be conserved here - and gives Crowley a wide-eyed, hopeful look. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
The room is mostly dark, the only light coming from the cracked-open door into the main room, and he sits up slowly, trying to remember where he is, what's going on. He's...he'd been dying. That was it. He does not remember the room well enough to recognize it now as Crowley's.
A blanket falls down from his chest as he sits up, and his shoes are lined up neatly at the edge of the bed. Aziraphale rubs at his eyes, staring down at them dumbly.
This isn't Heaven. He knows that much. Or...or perhaps there's no way back from Heaven, for angels who die here, outside of Her domain. He makes a small noise of distress, pulling at the blanket and managing to get his legs tangled up in it for a moment before finally freeing himself. He pads to the door barefoot, quiet and uncertain, and peeks through, stomach tight with apprehension about what he might see. ]
no subject
He doesn't like to think about what he's been doing for the last twenty hours. Mostly sitting and watching Aziraphale. He napped a little bit himself, eventually, because watching someone sleep was the number one way to become sleepy oneself.
It had taken the better part of a single nail-biting hour with no improvement or decline in Aziraphale's condition, before the angel had murmured something and rolled onto his side and it had occurred to Crowley that oh.
He wasn't in a coma at all.
He was just asleep, stupid git.]
I've got to get you to sleep more often, angel.
[He doesn't sit up from his spot lying on the empty Ricky and Lucy bed on the other side of the room, but he props his head up on one arm and rests the other arm in the pronounced dip of his waist when he's lying on one side.
Even knowing that Aziraphale was most likely asleep, Crowley didn't like the thought of leaving him alone.]
Feel better?
no subject
Oh, Crowley, you scared me!
[ And then his brain starts to catch up, one step at a time, past the utter unquestionable normality of Crowley being there, talking to him. ]
Wait, Crowley? But how are you - I thought I -
[ Was dead. No. One more step, there we go. ]
...Sleep?
no subject
Which is to say, he's a little sheepish about having carried on so now that he has confirmation that there was nothing wrong with Aziraphale after all.
So he lounges all the more, turning onto his back and pushing himself up into a reclined sprawl.]
Yup. [He pops the 'p'.] Dead to the world. About a day, actually.
Hungry, angel? Would have brought you breakfast in bed, but I didn't think you'd want to wake up alone.
[Not to mention he didn't actually know when Aziraphale was going to wake up.]
no subject
His stomach does a funny sort of flip when Crowley talks about breakfast in bed and not wanting to wake up alone, but he shoves that firmly back in favor of the larger issue. Much larger, certainly, than the fact that Crowley had apparently been lying there, waiting for Aziraphale to wake up. ]
Don't be ridiculous, I don't sleep. I've never slept in my life, why would I start now?
no subject
I don't know, but people don't usually snore in comas.
[Even without his glasses, the darkness does a lot to obscure his expression. Not in any kind of sinister way, but it's at least an admirable job done to tamp down on his worry.]
no subject
I felt...I felt terrible. I thought I was dying. But now...
[ He looks down at his hands, steady, not shaking as they had been before. His mind is clear and so is his vision. He doesn't feel cold all over anymore, or as if he's about to fall over. ]
What happened?
no subject
You passed out in my bed. And...stayed that way. Far as I know. Once I was sure you were just sleeping, I might've dozed off a bit myself.
[He sits up fully, folding his legs in a pretzel on the mattress.]
...How are you feeling now?
no subject
Sleeping. It still doesn't make sense. There's no reason for it. But he must have slept, if Crowley says so. And it does seem to have fixed whatever was wrong with him. ]
Better.
[ He slides one hand along his thigh, squirming a little bit in embarrassment. ]
...Hungry.
no subject
But having Aziraphale passed out in his bed for the better part of a day has knocked Crowley off-kilter, unsure and reluctant to try and rock the boat just yet. So he stays where he is, although his fingers clench a little with the effort it takes not to reach out to Aziraphale.]
...Then come on, let's get a spot of- Well, food, anyway. What time is it? Hard to tell on the moon.
no subject
I'm sure I don't know, Crowley. How would I?
[ It's not said cruelly, though. He doesn't reach out to Crowley either, but he almost feels as if he wants to. As if it would be a comfort, for Crowley to take his hand, or even embrace him, reassure him that everything was all right...
He turns to him instead, searching his face. ]
Did you really stay here? The whole time?
no subject
[The answer is simple and to the point.]
I know you don't sleep. Figured it'd make you feel better to have a friendly face there when you woke up.
no subject
Thank you, Crowley.
It...it did make me feel better. It does.
[ Both the reassuring normality of having Crowley there - not only in this particular instance, of course, but here, in this strange place. He can't imagine how lost and lonely he might have been, had he been pulled here all on his own...
Not only that, but something else, too. The thought of Crowley looking over him whilst he slept, guarding him, keeping him safe - even if there's nothing here to be kept safe from. It makes him feel protected, looked after, even loved, a feeling of warmth suffusing through him.
He looks sideways at Crowley, hesitating - this hadn't gone well the last time he'd attempted a similar compliment - but after a moment, he decides to go for it. ]
You know, my dear, you really are very kind.
no subject
Shut up. Got a reputation to uphold.
[The agitated feeling in the pit of his stomach - what he'd dismissed as worry, before Aziraphale woke up - isn't going away, however, and has gotten only stronger since Aziraphale mentioned food.
He doesn't like it.
He rolls to his feet and offers Aziraphale a hand up.]
Let's go get something to eat. Been cooped up in this room too long.
no subject
[ He doesn't point out that Crowley doesn't have any reputation at all here, or that Hell and its agents are far away. Instead he just smiles, taking the offered hand gratefully and just a touch too eagerly. ]
Oh, yes, please, I don't know when I was last this hungry.
no subject
[Once he helps Aziraphale up, Crowley finds his sunglasses and his shoes and shrugs on his jacket, buying time for Aziraphale to put his shoes on as well.]
Shall we play Russian Roulette with the robot in the canteen, or take the further walk into town for some hearty medieval fare?
no subject
Did you say "hearty fare"?