Crowley knew that breathing wasn't strictly necessary for ethereal or occult beings. But that did not quench the small panic he had when he found Gabriel face down on his couch still shirtless, one arm under his head and the other hanging off the edge, still covered by a blanket but completely unmoving. Completely unmoving including breathing.
"Shit. Hey Gabe, wake up" Crowley said from across the room. When he got no response, and the Archangel didn't even stir, Crowley approached him and nudged his shoulder gently with a knee. "Gabriel. Come on!"
Crowley paced around his flat. Technically, he supposed, if he killed an Archangel, that might put him back on Hell's good side. But he didn't want Gabriel to be dead. He continued pacing.
An hour later he finally mustered up the courage to call Aziraphale. But the call to his mobile phone went directly to voicemail. Which was strange itself because though Aziraphale was not found of his mobile phone, he never turned the thing off.
Descending the stairs from his flat, Crowley figured if Gabriel was dead, he would still be there when he came back, hopefully.
He drove to the book shop in silence. Trying to figure out what to say to Aziraphale. It had been less than 2 months since the failed end of the world, but during those two months "just enough of a bastard to be worth liking" had turned into "I do actually, you know, have some non- demonic feelings." They hadn't actually gotten to outright expressing love, which is what made Gabriel's declaration the previous day such a problem. Crowley knew Gabriel loved him. And however many thousands of years ago, he had loved Gabriel too. But for Aziraphale, who already had needless insecurities when it came to his boss, to hear those words, well it created a problem. A problem that had resulted in a drunk and possibly dead Archangel.
When Crowley thought about it, he really did hate Gabriel now rather than love him. When he fell, he hadn't been part of the actual rebellion, like his bosses. He just sort of thought it seemed more fun than the stuffy atmosphere heaven proved to be. All it would have taken to prevent him falling was Gabriel asking him to stay. But when that lumbering oaf of an Archangel came to tell Crowley that his welcome in Heaven had expired, Gabriel was standing right next to him, somber, but soundless. Not even so much as a goodbye.
And he had never expected to see the Archangel again. So naturally he was a little thrown off when he walked in to see him standing in Aziraphale's bookshop. Should've said something better than a meek "Hey Gabe" though.
He approached the bookshop and parked. The sign showed closed but that was to be expected. The locked door and locked back door were not. For the second time in the same number of hours, Crowley felt sheer panic. The only solution, he surmised was transporting himself into the building. This was an emergency after all.
"Angel, we have a problem, a huge, well maybe not as-" he stopped as he saw where Aziraphale was. Still clothed from the day before but sprawled on the couch, snoring softly.
"Huh, thought you didn't believe in sleep" he said, sitting in his chair.
"Don't. But it seemed the proper thing to do." Came the muffled reply.
"Angel, I need help. I think I killed Gabriel. He got drunk last night and, oh don't look at me like that, he only had a few glasses of bourbon, anyways he's still on the couch but I can't wake him up and he's not breathing"
Aziraphale took a long slow inhale and swung himself upright on the couch "Dear boy, you know as well as I do that we don't need to breathe. That doesn't mean-"
"I know we don't need to but I do when I sleep and you were just a few moments ago. But he isn't. Please just come over and help." It was a true plea.
"And why should I do that?"
Crowley thought for a moment "because you'll get in trouble for letting me kill him?" he tried hopefully.
"Yes, probably true. Give me just a moment to change clothes."
Fifteen minutes later they were on their way back to Crowley's flat. Aziraphale wanted more than anything to discuss the events of the previous day.
"I might be getting recalled, or reassigned, or I'm not sure what, but I don't think they are pleased." He finally broke the silence. "I don't want to leave. I'd have saved them a lot of time and trouble by just letting Armageddon happen if I wanted to leave!"
"I'm hoping that either Dagon's forgotten about me or Adam had a talk with… his father and either way I get to stay here. Though Gabe-riel" (he amended the nickname at the last second) "seemed surprised that I hadn't been recalled."
The situation in Crowley's flat was exactly as described. Though Crowley had neglected to mention Gabriel's state of dress. "Where's his shirt? And tie? And jacket?"
"Chair" Crowley pointed in that direction. "It's not what you're thinking. He said it was warm and I wasn't going to watch him struggle all night with the buttons. And I magicked it off, before you ask"
Truthfully that had been what Aziraphale was thinking. He glanced over Gabriel's unconscious form. Crowley was correct in his assessment that he wasn't breathing. Aziraphale gently turned him onto his back. Still no motion. Miracle it would be then. He placed his hand on Gabriel's left shoulder, muttered a few words, and a groan escaped from the Archangel.
Gabriel opened one purple eye to see Aziraphale standing above him, directly behind him. He tilted his head back to see more clearly "Aziraphale I think I'm dying. Or falling. Everything hurts." As if to emphasize the pain, he scrunched his face up. "Gadr- sorry Crowley- am I falling is this why it hurts?"
"You're hungover, Gabriel" Aziraphale replied. "You got drunk, didn't sober up before you went to sleep, and now you are having the very Earthly experience of a hangover. I'm not sure how to explain it."
"And no you aren't falling. Hangovers are much less horrible than that experience" Crowley added.
Gabriel closed his eyes and sighed "Aziraphale. Help me."
"What would possibly make me want to do that?" Aziraphale asked coldly. He truly had no desire to help his boss. The boss that had made his existence miserable forever.
"Aziraphale… please"
Aziraphale was getting a sick sort of enjoyment out of seeing Gabriel beg him for help. Crowley on the other hand was getting slightly agitated. "Angel, please just miracle his hangover away. I really don't want a hungover Archangel on my couch any longer than necessary."
Gabriel mumbled something that might have been "do you want me elsewhere?" But both Aziraphale and Crowley chose to ignore it.
"Fine, up with you then" Aziraphale gestured for Gabriel to sit up. "I'm not going to remove the entire hangover, because quite honestly that feels worse. The best option is to sober up yourself before the body tries to do it for you. But that would have been last night."
Aziraphale placed his hand on Gabriel's back, just between his shoulder blades. It was the place that an angel's true essence was closest to the surface of their corporation, where the glamor covering their wings were. It was also a very intimate place to be touching your boss. "Sorry, just need to…" he pressed into Gabriel's skin causing the other angel to moan.
And Crowley to bristle slightly "are you nearly done with that?"
"Yes, my dear boy, he's nearly done. Can you maybe get him some coffee?"
The way Crowley and Aziraphale addressed each other had not escaped Gabriel. Now that the pain in his head and chest were gone he felt… exposed. He possessed perhaps a bit too much vanity for an angel, Gabriel had an attractive corporation and he knew it. He also made a point to carry himself well. But sitting lap half covered by a blanket in slacks and shoes from the previous night, and no shirt, hair undoubtedly mussed, made him feel out of sorts. He gestured toward himself and was immediately overcome with a wave of nausea.
"Oh forgot to mention. No miracles for a while" Aziraphale said, seeing Gabriel's expression.
"Would have been good to know before I tried." He replied, standing up to collect his shirt from the chair. He slipped it on casually, but didn't do up the buttons. "What is this 'coffee' and will it make my head feel less, how it feels now? Gadre'el do you have whatever."
"Crowley" the demon snarled "and yes. Here." He shoved a cup of black coffee into Gabriel's hands. "It's hot. Drink it slowly."
Aziraphale eyed Crowley after hearing Gabriel address him. Gadre'el. He vaguely remembered the boy. Or maybe his mind was just associating Crowley with someone he didn't actually remember. The name was familiar though. "So your name was…"
"Angel, can we perhaps not have this conversation now?" Crowley replied, settling onto his couch. "But yes, Gabriel insists on using that name for some reason."
"Habit. It's your name, it's what I've thought of you as for all of existence, so I don't know why you expect me to be able to be able to get used to this new name in a day." He sat down on the couch next to Crowley, crossed an ankle over his knee, and lounged back, shirt falling further open and took a sip of his coffee.
Aziraphale gaped. And Gabriel noticed.
