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Most immortal beings don’t sleep; they don’t need too. Crowley, however, likes his sleep.
When one is an immortal and has lived since the Beginning, existing constantly without a break can be exhausting. Especially when you just helped stop Armageddon.
So, after going to the Ritz with Aziraphale, Crowley goes back to his flat, steps over Ligur’s gooey remains, and flops into bed.
He miracles his clothing into black sleepwear then closes his yellow eyes.
He dreams of flames and terror and burning books.
He dreams of smoke and jets of water and awful loss.
——
He wakes with a start, breathing heavily out of habit rather than necessity. His body is trembling slightly, he notes, and the sheets are dark(er than usual) with sweat.
He’s dreamt before. He does have an imagination, after all, unlike most demons. And nightmares specifically aren’t new… he’s had some nasty ones about the aftermath of his Fall.
So why is he so rattled by this one?
Yes, it had been about Aziraphale, and Aziraphale is his best friend, but…
Crowley gets out of bed and decides to go yell at his houseplants. That would distract him nicely.
——
The nightmares continue over the next week, souring Crowley’s mood. Aziraphale notices.
One night, when Crowley is over at the bookshop—lying on the sofa with hooded eyes and a despondent expression—Aziraphale says, “are you alright, dear fellow? You don’t seem quite yourself.”
Crowley just grunts in response, burrowing further into the sofa.
Aziraphale decides not to push and goes to make some tea. When he returns, he finds Crowley asleep on the sofa and smiles.
He settles down in an armchair with a book (not one of the ones Adam had restocked the store with. While Aziraphale appreciates having his shop back, he went in search of books he had had before) and his tea. It’s peaceful for a time until Crowley begins to mutter in his sleep, limbs twitching slightly.
Aziraphale sets his tea down, about to wake his friend, when Crowley jerks up, eyes wild.
When they settle on Aziraphale, Crowley calms and slumps back. He looks tired and worn, and Aziraphale is disappointed in himself that he didn’t notice sooner.
He stands from his chair and sits next to Crowley on the sofa. He wants to ask if Crowley is alright, but he doubts that would be helpful. Instead, he just sits there, a comforting weight against Crowley’s side.
A few minutes later, unprompted, Crowley says, “I thought you were dead, you know.”
Slightly startled, Aziraphale replies, “I know.”
They don’t say more than that, but Crowley moves closer and Aziraphale puts his arm over Crowley’s shoulder.
It’s enough.