Crowley can't hide his past forever. And maybe- he realizes after it's out- it's better that he doesn't. Chapter title from First Time by Hozier.
—
Four years ago
"Luc? Luc, don't- I didn't mean to."
"You embarrassed me. Did you have to be so dramatic?"
Crowley had to jog to keep up with his boyfriend's furious pace. He wasn't much taller than Crowley, but it was almost like he didn't want to be seen walking with him.
"It did kind of look like-"
"Like I was tying my shoe. Because that's what I was doing."
Hot shame crawled up his neck. He'd gotten excited, jumped to conclusions and started saying yes. "You got down on one knee. And it- it's my birthday, and I thought that maybe-"
"Have I ever talked about proposing? Ever? C'mon, baby, be serious." Luc slowed down finally, his tone softening. "Be serious with me."
"We've been together for a while. Living together. It's not that outlandish. Maybe we-"
"It's not the right time."
Crowley's shoulders slumped. He tried not to look too disappointed. "Why not?" he asked, managing to keep his tone casual and conversational.
"Not ready to settle down. Besides, you're still at that job. Do you really think you're cut out to be married?"
"It can't be that different from now. Can it?"
"Aw. You wouldn't know, baby," Luc said, his voice sounding so sweet that it almost took the sharp edge away from the words themselves. "I'm not sure you've seen a healthy marriage once in your life. Look at how your parents turned out."
For a moment, Crowley felt like he couldn't breathe.
"Listen, let's not talk about this anymore. It's just not the right time."
"Okay."
If he knew what wasn't the right time, then he must have a better one in mind.
—
Present
Crowley was trembling again. Even with the wrist brace on.
He'd been doing that a lot more often as of late, Aziraphale observed. Still, he soldiered on through the kids' chemistry work, writing and drawing in shaky lines an example for them to follow. He stubbornly gripped the pencil harder and tried to steady his hand.
Aziraphale waited until they were getting ready for bed to mention it.
"Has it been getting worse?"
"A little," Crowley acknowledged. If he would admit to it, it must be really bad. "Nothing I can't handle."
"How long has it been feeling worse than usual? Did you bring it up the last time you went to the doctor?"
His boyfriend stared at him blankly for a moment, then his gaze skittered away. "Not as such." He disappeared into the bathroom to brush his teeth.
Now what was that supposed to mean?
"I think you should see your doctor again soon," Aziraphale said, knowing that Crowley could hear him even over the running water. "Perhaps something can be done to help ease your pain."
No response. Aziraphale settled into bed, sitting against the headboard with his current read, reading glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. When Crowley was finished brushing his teeth, he quickly shut his lamp off and pulled the covers over his head.
"Crowley, darling?"
"Mhm?"
"We can schedule something tomorrow."
"I don't know who…" the sentence trailed off into mumbling as
"What was that?" Aziraphale asked.
"I don't know who to schedule it with. It's been a while. And I moved. And I don't… don't think I should because it might be hard to pay for," Crowley admitted as he scooted to press his temple to his boyfriend's hip. "Since I don't work at the greenhouse anymore, 'nd stuff. It's always seemed like too much trouble anyways."
"Going to the doctor? But that's- how many years has it been, exactly?"
"I got this cast off… three years ago? And before that, they fixed up my wrist."
"And before that?"
"I got all my shots and everything. For school. I stop in the pharmacy for the flu one when I remember to. Other than that, there's not anything wrong with me. I don't think it's that important."
The admission shocked Aziraphale into silence for a good thirty seconds. "You are important," was what he said when words finally returned to him. "You're important to me. And to be frank, darling, I worry about how little you seem to take care of yourself. Not only in this regard." He pushed the covers back enough that he had access to the top of Crowley's head. He started to stroke his hair, feeling the other man practically melt in response.
"Maybe they can't do anything. Maybe it'll always be like this."
"We don't know that for sure. Can we at least come to a compromise here? I'm worried that you would let yourself be in pain rather than try to do something about it, and the idea saddens me."
"Okay. Alright," Crowley mumbled.
"Good. We'll talk more later then?"
"Yeah. Sure, angel."
—
When he was fully awake, Crowley was more stubborn.
"It's not your job to worry about it, sometimes it gets bad like this but it always calms down after I rest it for a while. I'll chill out, I promise."
He didn't go into his worries about the cost or worries about the possible hopelessness of his condition that he'd let slip the previous night, but Aziraphale could hear the undertones.
So he let it drop, but did some researching on the google later, and made a phone call.
—
Four years ago
"It's been a long week," Luc sighed, looping his arms around Crowley's waist to pull their bodies flush.
"You're gonna get glitter on you, let go," Crowley giggled, not fighting at all.
"Don't want to. Feel like I've barely seen you all week."
"Maybe we can do something tomorrow. I'm tired and I need to shower."
Luc made an unsatisfied noise in the back of his throat. He reached up to take the dangly earrings off out of Crowley's ears as he shifted on his tired feet. "Baby…"
"I know. It's just that I'm tired and I'm sore. I did the new routine tonight, it's a lot."
"Then maybe don't do it anymore. I feel like you're avoiding me or something."
"It's not that, Luc," Crowley tried to pull out of his boyfriend's grasp but found himself unable to wiggle out of his hold. "You know it's not that. I'll get used to the new routine, it won't be as taxing. I like pushing myself, that's the thing about dancing. I did a perfect Fallen Angel today. I think Shax got it on video, wanna see?"
"God, Crow, if you've seen one dance move, you've seen 'em all. When are you getting a real job? Hm?"
Crowley sighed.
"Don't be like that. Don't pout," Luc's voice took on that condescending playful lilt that Crowley wasn't a fan of. "When's my baby going to join the actual workforce, hm? Not just shake his ass at people all day?"
"It hardly involves shaking, I'm mostly- you know what, you don't care about specifics. You knew what my job was when we got together. You didn't seem to mind it then. I never said anything about quitting. I like dancing. A lot. And if people happen to give me money- a lot of money- for it, then I don't see what the big deal is."
"So my feelings don't matter, then?" Luc pulled away. As tired and sweaty and done as Crowley was, he missed the warmth and pressure immediately.
"I didn't mean it like that."
"No, I get it. Your fans are more important than your boyfriend. Maybe you're right. Maybe I need to start throwing money at you here in the bedroom, would that make a difference?"
Crowley's stomach felt twisted up in uncomfortable knots. He hated when Luc talked like this. "No, you don't need to do that. It's not like that." He pressed closer, but Luc was unresponsive. He wouldn't even look at him. And now Crowley felt like crying. "You are more important than them, okay? I'm sorry. Whatever I did, I'm sorry."
Luc softened. His hand tangled in Crowley's hair at the back of his neck and dragged him into a kiss.
Crowley could feel the long hours of work in his lower back, in his shoulders, in his calloused hands, in his ankles. He could feel the headache building, and knew he needed to drink some water, but as he was pushed to the bed, he didn't mention it. Luc would think it was an excuse.
There's going to be glitter on the sheets. I'll have to change them, he thought, as Luc's weight settled above him. Before or after the shower? I'll take them off before and put on the new ones after.
"Hey, careful with the costume, don't rip it-"
"Shh. Just shh…"
Crowley's earrings lay on the floor somewhere.
—
Present
It had been a rather long week, Crowley thought.
This was a nice way to end it, just him and Aziraphale tucked away in a booth at this little hole-in-the-wall Greek place he'd found. Their legs were somewhat tangled together under the table, ankles hooked around each other and knees touching. Aziraphale wordlessly held out a forkful of baklava and Crowley leaned forward, opening his mouth. They met each other in the middle. Crowley maintained eye contact a little too long to be innocent. The honey and thin layers of phyllo melted in his mouth. Aziraphale's gaze didn't leave his face as he cut another piece and offered that one too.
"I'm good," Crowley murmured, wanting to hear another one of Aziraphale's noises. The little hums or sighs he made when he ate and the food was really good were unparalleled.
A moment later, he did get to hear one. There was really no better way to spend a Friday night than this.
"Crowley?"
"Myeah?"
"I wanted to, um," Aziraphale set his fork down and cleared his throat. "I wanted to talk to you about something. Run something by you."
The interruption of their- well, mostly Aziraphale's- dessert was unusual, and threw Crowley off-kilter. "What is it?"
"Before I ask, I just want you to know that I'm not trying to pressure you into anything."
Ask? Ask? Crowley felt his heart rate accelerate. Was he hearing right?
"I know we haven't been living together for- for very long, but I am very fond of you." Aziraphale reached across the table to take Crowley's hands in his. "And I know that it's not 'my job', as you said, but I don't consider it a job to care for you. You care for me as well, sometimes in the same ways, sometimes different- I'm rambling."
"That's okay," Crowley breathed, feeling his pulse in his ears. Was this what he thought it was? Was it too soon? Did he drop any signs before this?
"What you said earlier this week got me thinking. And…" Aziraphale let go of Crowley's hands and reached into his coat pocket.
Oh my god. Oh my god oh my god ohmygod, what do I say? What should- how do I breathe? I forgot how to breathe is he going for a ring?! This is insane-
"...I thought that it might be smart to add you to my health insurance plan as a domestic partner." A few papers were unfolded and placed on the table before Crowley.
What?
"I don't mean to be overbearing, but I do worry about you, and having health insurance would make it easier for you cost wise if you did want to get that wrist checked out, or if something happened- god forbid."
"I…" This was nowhere in any of Crowley's guesses. Domestic partner? "What- you can do that?"
"Yes. It's very similar to when I added Muriel, except they will age out at a certain point and you wouldn't. It would take some time for the paperwork to go through, but the steps on our end seem to be fairly straightforward. You can keep these and think about it if you need time, I wanted to present the option."
Crowley opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
Why would Aziraphale want this? Weren't there copays he would have to make- because he wasn't mentioning Crowley paying them. Would it be beneficial when Aziraphale filled out his taxes to have paid those? God, he should know more about this stuff but he'd never considered it a priority and now he was part of a- group of the three of them.
"Can we talk about it later?" His voice sounded shaky even to his own ears.
"Of course," Aziraphale tucked the papers back into his coat, a worried crease appearing between his eyebrows. "Are you feeling alright?"
"Yeah. I'm- yeah."
The waiter passed by and Crowley flagged him down so he could pick up the check. He didn't know why but he needed to go home. (He needed to go home and tuck himself into bed to sleep his way away from complicated thoughts and feelings.)
—
In his dream, he was in middle school again.
It had been a long, long time since he'd dreamed he was this age. A long time since he'd dreamed so clearly about anything at all. Usually his dreams were very fuzzy visually, if he could remember pictures at all. They would be mundane, sometimes even domestic. He dreamed of Aziraphale romantically, embarrassingly often. He dreamed of making lattes and never getting the picture quite right. He dreamed of watering his plants, finding new ones, absurd amounts of plants that didn't exist in real life somehow all crammed into various windowsills. The spray bottle didn't run out of water in those dreams but he never thought about it until he was awake. One night, he'd dreamed a science fair. Muriel had held a star in the palm of their hand.
Anyway, this dream. This one felt different. He was aware, even as he looked around and everything seemed right and real, that he was dreaming. He was sitting on his spot on the ledge, waiting for Dad and his new girlfriend to come pick him up. His trusty grey dufflebag (which had been thrown out in the present- one too many uses and moves had eventually worn the seams apart) was in his lap. He was supposed to spend all fall break with Dad, Lisa, and his half sister. She hadn't quite started talking yet, but she was still pretty interesting, and seemed to like it when he played with her or read to her.
He didn't always get to. Oftentimes, Lisa would go away for most of the day and take his sister with her. Or she would be at her grandparents' house. Dad didn't like it when he had called her his sister, so he was careful not to. At least not when he could hear.
So what if they technically didn't share any biological parents? Dad was still legally obligated to be in charge of him some of the time as part of the agreement after the divorce, and his older siblings didn't like him anyway. He wanted to be someone's brother.
Why was he thinking of this stuff? It was just a dream. Didn't matter how it played out. Even if it was getting late. It was just a dream, time hardly mattered here.
It didn't hurt much anymore to think about it. How his eldest brother could drive, and took the rest of his siblings (half-siblings) back and forth between mom's and dad's as often as they wanted. But he hadn't been welcome. Not enough room in the car, they said, backpacks in every open seat.
It didn't hurt anymore. Really he was better off without any of them. Right?
Maybe Bee would show up to this dream. It wouldn't make sense for real life, because real life Bee in middle school always took the bus home. And when Crowley went to his mom's, they sat together on the bus and both got off at Bee's house. Once the two had their homework done, or lied convincingly enough about it, they were allowed to watch cartoons until it was time to send Crowley home.
Say goodbye to AJ. His family must miss him, Bee's mom would say. Wish we could keep him, but his mum would miss him. He wished she could keep him too, because he always liked it better there. 'Home' was quiet and vaguely uncomfortable and he was in trouble for something that he didn't even know a person could be in trouble for. He'd been born, and that had been very inconvenient to his parents since it turned out he wasn't the two of theirs together.
Crowley didn't like this dream anymore. He felt sick, which he hadn't known could happen in a dream, and he was thinking too much like his middle school self. He forced himself awake, ashamed to feel cooling tear tracks on his face.
Bee was active online. He DMed back and forth with them about stupid things until they could both sleep again.
—
"Zira?"
Long thin fingers carded through his hair. Aziraphale leaned back until the back of his head rested against his boyfriend's ribcage. "Yes, love?"
"Can we talk?"
"Of course. About?"
"About the insurance stuff."
Crowley was rarely so straightforward. Aziraphale could pick out that thin nervousness hiding in his tone.
"Did you have questions about it?"
"Maybe. Tried looking up some stuff, but…
"It is rather bogged down with technical terms."
Crowley sighed. Aziraphale felt long thin arms settle around his neck and Crowley's chin rested on his head. "Would it be… expensive? I don't want to- I don't think I'm comfortable with you paying the whole… cost of adding me, even if it's not."
"Then we can split it.
"Why do you even want me? On the plan, I mean." Crowley added that last part quickly. He seemed flustered now, as if he hadn't meant to let that question slip.
Aziraphale could practically feel his heart cracking, but he smiled for Crowley's sake. It wouldn't do any good to look sad at all, lest it be mistaken for pity. "Because I love you." He left it at that. He could've also said, I worry about you. I'm afraid you would stubbornly work that wrist into worse damage. I'm afraid you would use every excuse to not get help when you need it because I suspect someone taught you at some point that you don't matter enough to bother with.
"I love you too. And if it would really ease your worrying, I can get this checked out by a doctor," Crowley gestured to his wrist.
"Thank you, dear. I don't mean to be overbearing, but I do worry about you."
"Yeah, yeah," Crowley mumbled. He buried his face in Aziraphale's curls.
"Anything else you want to talk about?"
"Will you come with me? To the doctor. Just this once, I won't ask you to come with me every time."
"If you wanted me there every time, I would try my best. I'll come with you."
"Thanks."
—
Three years ago
The buzzing of the small saw made him nervous, but he didn't feel it touch his skin at all. Then the cast came off. The doctor smiled at him.
"There we go, Mr. Crowley," he said.
"Wow," Crowley flexed his hand, finally able to curl his fingers all the way into his palm without hitting a hard plaster cast instead. "That feels better."
"Those things can get cumbersome after a while, can't they?" The doctor hummed, taking his arm and gently rotating his wrist. "Any lingering pain?"
"No, I don't think so."
"If that's that, then we'd better get going," Luc interrupted. Crowley hurriedly thanked the doctor before his boyfriend dragged him out of the office and back to the car.
"We'll be calling about a follow up soon, and see if we can get that scheduled in a few weeks," the doctor said.
"Okay," Crowley had to almost shout. Luc had already pulled him halfway down the hall. "What was that all about?" he hissed.
"You didn't see it? He was seconds away from asking for your number or something. Totally unprofessional."
"I think he was just being nice."
"Shows what you know. Can I borrow your phone? Mine's dead."
—
Present
The appointment had been fairly easy to schedule. The drive had been fine. They had all the information for the paperwork, and it wasn't as frustrating as Crowley thought it might be. (He still felt a little uncomfy at the idea of Aziraphale paying any amount of money for him, but resigned himself to the mortifying ordeal of being taken care of. It wasn't unlike the initial pangs of guilt when Aziraphale had been making space for him in the closet when he'd moved into the flat.) Aziraphale even went with him to the room, and didn't even roll his eyes or call him a baby when he'd asked (not that he logically thought Aziraphale would do something like that, it was just too easy to imagine). Then he had to go and fuck up when the doctor- Dr. Nutter- but please, call me Agnes- was going through his history. Maybe if he'd taken himself to the doctor more often, he could have been ready with his answers.
"And a few years ago you fractured your wrist? How did that happen?"
"I slipped," Crowley thought quickly. "And I landed on it funny."
"Slipped? Where?"
At home, in the flat, in the kitchen- no, he'd never mentioned the flat to those doctors, had he?
"At work. Wet floor."
"Alright. We'll proceed with the routine check-up, then we'll discuss any specific concerns you might have."
She checked ears, nose, and throat, pressed a cold stethoscope to his chest and back (which he used to complain about when he was a kid, he hated the cold), checked his reflexes, blah blah blah. If she noticed his discomfort when the blood pressure cuff squeezed his arm, she didn't mention it.
Then she asked Aziraphale to leave the room.
"Why?" Crowley asked.
"Part of the routine check-up. I have to speak with you alone. Is that alright, Mr. Fell?"
"Of course," he nodded to the doctor. "I'll be right back when you need me," he told Crowley. "You'll be fine, love."
Yeah. He'd be fine. He was thirty years old, there was no reason at all to be nervous at the doctor's.
"So, you said you slipped and fractured your wrist. At work."
"Yeah."
"It says here that you fell down some stairs," Dr. Nutter looked at him over her glasses. Crowley's heart dropped into his stomach. "At home."
"Yeah, after I slipped. I slipped near stairs. It was like- a chain reaction. Yeah. And I landed weird. And I must have gotten mixed up. Home, yeah."
Dr. Nutter hummed and made a note. "The man who was just in here, he's your partner, right? How long have you been with your partner?"
Fuck. She thought- no, Crowley had to clear this up.
"Okay! Okay, I lied then, and I was lying earlier. But Aziraphale didn't do it, it was someone else. It happened before I even met him, before I moved. But I didn't want to- I don't want to get anyone in trouble. And I don't want to make a big deal out of it."
"Someone fractured your wrist? How did they do it?"
"He- grabbed. And squeezed. And twisted a little. But he didn't mean to. And it wasn't Aziraphale. Please believe me, I don't want to get him in any trouble-"
"I believe you. We don't have to say anything to him if you don't want to. As long as you're safe, I'm required to keep everything we discuss confidential."
"I am. Safe, that is. With him. He really cares about me, he's the only reason I'm getting this old injury checked out in the first place. I would hate to get him wrapped up in trouble that he had nothing to do with." Crowley could still feel his heartbeat in his ears.
"Is the old break still bothering you? Did it not heal properly?"
"I don't know. I've been wearing a brace, and that helps sometimes, but I get all shaky when I've been using it too much."
"Did you attend physical therapy during or after healing?"
"No."
Dr. Nutter made another note. "Where were you employed? What kind of work were you doing?"
Crowley went through his work history after the injury. It was a lot more varied than his work history before it. And a lot less fun. (No offense, Nina. But offense to every other boss. Especially Mr. Lavista.)
"Would any of these adjectives describe your pain? Tingling, shooting, sharp, prickling…"
Dr. Nutter went through a rather long list of adjectives, with Crowley chiming in every once in a while with 'yes, that'. She asked about swelling or redness, what he did on bad days to soothe the pain.
"I was able to quit my second job at the greenhouse after I moved in with my partner, so I'm not doing any heavy lifting there anymore. My other job isn't as strenuous. Basic painkillers help most of the time, warm water too."
Dr. Nutter's expression was hard to read throughout the whole conversation. She asked him if he would be alright with some scans. Crowley agreed.
"Do I have to be alone for those?"
"Since it's just your arm we'll be scanning, someone else can be in the room to hold your hand if you'd like."
"I'd like that."
—
Three years ago
"What the… hey, what happened to my charger?" Crowley held it up. It had been bent and twisted so hard in the middle that the plastic had ripped and the wires inside were fraying.
"Must've got caught in something, baby. You need to be more careful with your stuff," Luc said. Was it just Crowley, or did he barely even look up?
"Can I borrow yours?"
"Just set it on my side of the bed, I'll plug it in when mine's done charging."
Crowley sighed. His whole arm and shoulder were all feeling achey. He wanted to take his pills and get some sleep. "Don't forget, okay? Bee's 'spose to call me tonight, and I haven't heard back from-"
"I will, okay? Jesus, it's like you think I'm incompetent or something."
"I don't think that. I never said that."
"Then stop ragging on me and just go to sleep, Crow." Luc got up and took the phone, setting it down (harder than he needed to) on his nightstand.
"Okay. Just- you won't forget?"
"The fuck did I just say?"
Crowley curled up on his side of the bed and pulled the covers over his head. He hated how fast his heart was beating. Why couldn't he just shut up? Why did he have to be such a nag? No wonder Luc was fed up with him all the time.
—
Present
"Malunion? What is that?"
Dr. Nutter had mentioned scans, plural, but after the first one, Crowley had been sent back to the same room the appointment had started in to wait. They'd figured out what the issue was after the first scan.
"It means the fracture healed… wrong. In most cases, it is due to infection, which most patients aren't even aware that they have. That's been the cause of your pain for… how long did you say it's been?"
Crowley stared at Dr. Nutter incredulously. "About three years?" he finally managed to choke out.
Aziraphale winced sympathetically, patting Crowley's knee. "Can it be fixed?" he asked.
"It can be rebroken and reset. You will have to go through the healing process again. Physical therapy is recommended afterward. I'm not sure how this wasn't caught during your follow up appointments after the initial break."
"I didn't- they said there would be a phonecall, but-" Crowley paused. Where had his phone been while he was home? Who'd been closest to it for weeks after he'd had the cast off? Borrowing it? 'Forgetting' to plug it in after his charger 'mysteriously' broke? Knew the password because 'if he had nothing to hide…' "Fuck."
"My dear-" Aziraphale tried to take his hand, offer some sort of comfort, but Crowley felt like his blood was starting to boil. He brushed Aziraphale away.
"No. No. This is- it's bullshit!"
"Don't shoot the messanger, my dear."
"Not the doctors. After the doctors-" Crowley's head dropped to rest on his knees where he stayed, curled in on himself. "Fuck, fuck, fuck. They were supposed to call me, I bet Luc picked up the phone or blocked the number- I wasn't going to tell on him. I wasn't. Did he think I was going to tell on him?"
He focused on blinking hard, keeping burning tears in his eyes from falling. He felt so stupid. The voices of Aziraphale and Dr. Nutter were background noise, he barely processed the conversation about the next steps, the next appointments.
"Wait, wait, it's- I'm going to have to break it again? Another six weeks in a cast?" The realization sinking in brought his head up again.
"I'm sorry, dear," Aziraphale leaned over to press a kiss to his temple. "I'm so sorry."
"It's not your fault," Crowley mumbled, feeling numb and miserable. Another six weeks doing things one-handed. "Fuck. I hated washing my hair with one hand."
"I can wash your hair," Aziraphale offered. "If you'd like me to. You can lean over the sink."
Crowley laughed, feeling a couple tears escape against his will. "Really? It's a little time-consuming."
"Really. If you want me to, any time."
No one had ever done that before, Crowley realized. Not since he was a really little kid. He wondered if he would ever get used to being offered things like this. Maybe sooner than he thought? Aziraphale tended to offer those things readily. It might not hurt to take him up on them more often, especially if he was going to have this bone reset. The hand on his knee gave a comforting, not-too-tight squeeze. Six weeks didn't sound as miserable as it did before.
"It'll feel better after?"
Dr. Nutter nodded. "When a bone heals properly, there isn't lasting pain. Strength can be regained, and you can perform regular tasks- and more strenuous ones, in time- without discomfort."
That made Crowley want to sob with relief, but he didn't want to make anyone any more uncomfortable with displays of emotion like that. "That sounds good. I thought it would be like this forever."
He didn't have to hurt all the time. There was another option.
—
Crowley's ex had only been previously mentioned enough times to count on one hand. Two of those times, Crowley had been tipsy. There was the mention of sometimes covering his half of the rent at the Christmas party so long ago, and a few 'my ex didn't like when I did that's. Mentions seemed to slip out by accident, and Crowley didn't elaborate. And then they both moved on and that was that. It seemed that they'd been together for a fairly long time, but Crowley gave no indication that he missed him or even thought of him much. Sometimes it was easy to forget that Crowley had been with anyone before Aziraphale. Aziraphale hadn't even known the man's name.
Now he knew that his name was Luc. And he'd purposely broken one of Crowley's bones, then held onto and tampered with his phone so he never picked up the follow up call out of fear that he would receive consequences for his actions.
After the appointment (and the small breakdown), Crowley was back in his wrist brace, and he was quiet. He hadn't put up the fight Aziraphale expected when he'd suggested letting him drive back home. He'd handed over the keys. His words ran on a repeat through Aziraphale's head. I wasn't going to tell on him. I wasn't.
He decided not to ask him about it yet.
When they got home, Muriel had started on dinner, with the help of Pepper, who had permission from her mom to stay over 'as long as Mr. Fell allows'. Aziraphale thanked them and complemented their efforts- homemade chips and frozen dino chicken nuggets in the oven- and told Pepper that since it was a Friday, she could feel free to stay the night. Muriel asked Crowley about the doctor's.
"It went fine. How was school?"
He listened and nodded through dinner. Then he went to bed.
Aziraphale decided to give him space, and spent the next few hours downstairs with the kids. After making sure their homework was done, he cleaned up after dinner, baked brownies, and they watched movies. Then it was getting late. The kids disappeared to Muriel's room, and Aziraphale quietly opened the door to his and Crowley's room. His boyfriend was fast asleep, curled around a pillow, red hair fanned out behind his head.
Suddenly he couldn't stop the tears. He tried to stay quiet, slowly sitting down on the edge of the bed, but it seemed that Crowley's sleep was light and his weight shifting the mattress was enough to make him open his eyes.
"Zira? Are you okay?"
"I'm- don't worry about me, dear. It's been a long day, but I'll be fine."
After another few moments- and another few shuddery breaths- a pair of thin arms wrapped around him. Crowley's head came to rest on his shoulder.
"I'm really sorry. For everything. I never meant- I'm just sorry you've got to deal with this stuff now. Probably didn't expect it when you made me part of… the group."
"Why are you sorry? It's not- Crowley, I want you to be able to talk to me about anything. I know I'm getting emotional, but it doesn't mean I can't handle it."
"You're just sensitive, aren't you?" His tone held no bite, no mocking, the way that sentence might have been said decades ago by other people. It sounded fond. (It was.)
"Yes, I suppose. It breaks my heart that you've been through so much-"
"Don't say it like that. Don't- my life hasn't been all awful. It could have been worse."
"That is not very reassuring, my dear."
Crowley stifled a laugh in Aziraphale's shirt. "I suck at comforting. Always have. The point is, I'm happy now. My life is better than I ever thought it would be. Even if I'm scared of messing it up, I have a family. And friends. I've had Bee for pretty much always, and I consider them both. Whatever happened in my past matters less and less every day."
"I understand. And I'm happy that you're happy. I want to do whatever I can to keep it that way."
"You're already doing so much more than I thought anyone ever would. I've spent so much time feeling unwanted but you've always made me feel the opposite. There's a reason I call you angel, y'know."
"So it's not just because you're a romantic at heart?"
"Shut up. 'M not. 'M only telling the truth."
Aziraphale wiped his eyes, feeling lighter now. "Are you sure you don't want to talk about any of it? I can handle it, I promise."
Crowley shrugged. "I guess if you want to, I could. Not much to say anymore, I think you know the gist of it now. And some of it is kind of embarrassing. I let too much slide that I couldn't 'prove', but there was literally no one else who could have done it, so a lot of it is kind of my fault-"
"You don't have to be embarrassed. And none of his actions were your fault." Aziraphale let out a slightly shuddery breath, then tried for some levity. "I can tell you embarrassing things about me too. If that makes you feel any better."
Crowley pressed a kiss just below Aziraphale's ear that made him shiver. "I might take you up on that later, careful." A gentle pair of arms reached, and pulled Crowley around into his boyfriend's lap.
"I don't need you to tell me everything if you don't want. Just promise me one thing."
"Yeah?"
"If I ever did anything you didn't like- and it absolutely does not need to be anything big, or anything physical, like breaking one of your bones- you would tell someone, right? Tell me so I can fix it, tell someone who can help you? I can't stand the thought of hurting you, even accidentally, and I can't stand the thought that you might just… take it."
"I learned my lesson, trust me," Crowley shifted closer (snuggled, really, but he hated that word and vehemently denied that he ever snuggled). He felt tears welling up again, but they didn't feel all bad. "I promise I don't let myself get walked all over anymore. Getting good at this 'communicating with you' stuff. 'Sides, I don't think you could hurt me if you tried. Took me forever to convince you to pull my hair during-"
"Okay! I get it," Aziraphale blushed as his boyfriend grinned. "You awful man."
"Your awful man."
"Romantic."
"Bastard."
Crowley's response was slightly muffled, as their mouths were already gravitating toward each other. He was not a romantic. Not at all. But he did enjoy being held. And kissed thoroughly.
—
Eight weeks later
Crowley was able to give Nina two weeks notice about his upcoming surgery. She didn't get the entire story, not the nitty-gritty, 'tragic' details. Just enough. She promised he could always come back to work when he was better, which Crowley wasn't expecting.
Six weeks of dealing with the boredom and anxiety that came with having his arm in a cast again. Six weeks of leaning over the sink and letting Aziraphale wash his hair for him. Three instances of accidentally snapping at his boyfriend as a result of missing his independence- and the ensuing apologies. Two embarrassing instances of nightmares that woke them both up in the middle of the night.
"You're so patient," Crowley mumbled more than once. "How do you do it?"
Aziraphale didn't know how to explain to him that this wasn't an unusual amount of patience at all. That it was so easy to be kind to him, especially since he loved Crowley. That he believed- no, knew Crowley would do the same for him if he needed it and wouldn't consider it some amazing feat. That he was actually bearing the post-op discomfort fairly well, and his moods were absolutely human. He attempted to anyway, and tried not to feel too discouraged when it didn't seem that Crowley believed him one hundred percent.
Bee and Gabriel had traveled to London together to visit and help entertain Crowley during his first week of recovery. Aziraphale caught Bee in the kitchen with their head in their hands, taking slow, shaky breaths.
"I don't want him to see how angry I am, it won't be helpful," they said.
"Me neither," Aziraphale said. "Because I'm not angry at him, of course, but he still feels bad about it."
"Right. But sometimes I feel like it's mine."
Turned out they had a lot they needed to get off their chest. Aziraphale already knew most of the story, but Bee's account of things pieced the timeline together in an uncomfortable way. Crowley joked about almost not graduating sometimes, but only ever cited his own alleged stupidity and never mentioned that being kicked out of home made everything harder. He had met Luc when he was eighteen, and the other man was in his mid twenties. "I didn't think anything of him then," Bee said. "He seemed like a good friend. There were four of us living together, and he pulled his weight at least. I should have gotten suspicious later." Crowley had been twenty one when they started dating. It was legal, but that didn't make the circumstances ideal or the relationship okay.
"I didn't think it was any of my business. He seemed happy, and I didn't want to mess with that. I should have known when they started arguing more. I made sure he knew he'd always have a place with me and my roommate at the time, but maybe I should have been more insistant that they take a break or something. Because he was always around Crow, he wanted him on this tight leash."
Aziraphale filled in the blanks in his head. Kicked out of home (that never wanted him in the first place), Crowley needed to feel wanted somewhere. Whether he knew it or not, that was probably a factor that allowed Luc to get closer to him.
And where Crowley needed affection, Luc learned that withholding it was an effective punishment. (Bee had been horrified when Crowley had confessed about the cold-shoulder treatments he received for all sorts of perceived transgressions. "If I'd known about that while they were still together…") Where Crowley needed to feel safe, he'd been hurt. And like Crowley himself had said, he didn't know much about belonging anywhere. So he handled as much of it as he could, clinging to their better times. Aziraphale hoped, for his own sake and he supposed for Luc's, that they never encountered each other in person. He wasn't sure how such an encounter would end, and whether Luc would be alive at the end of it.
Luc still skulked around the club sometimes, Bee admitted to Aziraphale. "That's why I've never asked him to visit me there. He doesn't ask me about Crow anymore, but I always feel like he's looking. Creeps me out. And I feel awful all over again. I could have done something more, I should have seen what was going on."
"There was no way for you to know what was going on in that relationship unless you were told," Aziraphale assured them. "And I think Luc was very good at keeping Crowley quiet about it. It's awful, but it wasn't your fault."
That conversation with Bee had been enlightening. Without Crowley's tendency to downplay, the story was somehow ever uglier. It made Crowley's trust in Aziraphale even more valuable. And somewhat baffling. It made Aziraphale hold him closer that night. Nothing would happen to him from here on out, not on Aziraphale's watch, not in the bookshop or the flat above it, never.
He felt ridiculously emotional when it came time for the cast to come off. Crowley's barely-hidden excitement made his eyes misty. This marked a new start for him. This time around, Crowley wasn't nervous when the saw buzzed. The follow-ups were scheduled right there. He returned home with a pamphlet and doctor's orders to do the strengthening exercises every day.
His wrist was stiff, but it wasn't painful.
He threw out the brace.
And he bought a gym membership.
—
"I should really invest in a tripod, that way you won't have to keep coming with me to help record," Crowley said, fiddling with the straps of his crop top.
"Well, don't rush on my account. I rather enjoy being the cameraman." Aziraphale stepped back to his usual spot and held up the camera to check that he had enough of the space in frame.
"Doesn't it get dull, angel? You see one dance move you've seen them all."
"If they were all the same you wouldn't be making so many tutorials, darling. And if I were bored of seeing you, I wouldn't also be watching every video after you post them."
Crowley flushed from his forehead all the way down to his chest. He didn't know what a huge relief having his boyfriend's enthusiastic support would be until he had it. Zira didn't just watch, he commented too. Aziraphale 'Still reads the actual paper newspaper' Fell had created an account and had two subscriptions: Crowley's channel and a book review channel. He was often the first view, first like, and first comment on every one of his boyfriend's videos whether they were tutorials, shorts, or fail compilations (Bee's personal favorites), and Crowley knew he watched them all the way through. If he was being honest, it was a huge confidence boost after taking months to work up the courage to even start making these videos.
"Fine, point taken," he mumbled.
"We'll wait for that pretty blush to fade before we start rolling."
Being called pretty did not help, and Crowley felt his ears also go up in flames.
"You're awful, you know that? Just awful. I love you."
"I love you too."
Crowley pressed his cold water bottle to his face and the redness started to fade. He pointedly ignored Aziraphale's self satisfied smirk. "Okay, I'm ready."
Aziraphale gave him a countdown from three, then hit record.
"Welcome to my new series, 'Intro to Silks'! In this video, I'm going to be showing you guys some beginner moves and share some tips on how to stay safe while learning. I think aerial silks are really fun, they're one of my favorite things…"