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Sometimes, nightmares still fucked up Crowley’s sleep. Flashes of cruelty, of torture. Of humans doing terrible things to each other. Of humans, other demons, or angels doing horrible things to him.
This had been one of those nights. He’d barely managed any sleep, the terror invading every time he dropped off.
But when he startled awake again, drenched in sweat, it was to gentle murmuring. Words of love whispered into kisses against his brow, his temple, his cheek. Plump fingers skating across the bare skin of his arm, tracing little hearts.
Although the screams of the nightmares still clung to him, echoing in the past, Crowley smiled into the well-padded softness of Aziraphale’s chest. “Angel.”
“It’s me, my dear, right here. You’re perfectly safe.” The warm fingers slid down, brushing against the back of his hand in a familiar question. Crowley turned his hand over into the reassuring, calming hold. “Goodness, this has been a difficult night for you. More bad dreams?”
“Yeah, s’ not ideal. But you know me, love a good dose of adrenaline first thing in the morning.” Crowley managed to put a sardonic note in his voice. It kept out the quavering fear that still lurked nearby.
“I think there are better ways of cultivating adrenaline, dear boy.” Aziraphale tickled his side, very gently. Just enough to make him grin and wriggle in protest, not enough to make him panic. “We could indulge in some of those overdramatic car chases, if you like. Or something with spaceships.”
“Hn.” Normally, Crowley was always onboard with Bond, sci-fi, or any fun action film. But he still felt a little fragile right now. And after a decade of marriage to Aziraphale, it was getting easier to admit to his moments of vulnerability and let his angel take care of him.
Although he wasn’t sure what sounded better than a film. There were loads of options, tons of things that would probably make him feel calmer. The trouble was picking from those countless options.
But Aziraphale just held him as he thought about it, fingers twining with Crowley’s. Another sweet, tender kiss against his brow turned into a whispered, barely audible, “I love you.”
Smiling, Crowley snuggled closer. He tugged his hand free in favor of wrapping his arms around Aziraphale’s softness and holding onto him. He was so warm, so real.
The strong arms gathered Crowley closer, and he shut his eyes with a long breath. Aziraphale was tracing hearts with one finger again, this time in the small of his back. It almost tickled, but not quite.
The best thing about thing, about these quiet moments, was that Crowley could feel Aziraphale’s love at full strength. He always felt it, a field of devotion and affection that blanketed the whole of the cottage and its grounds. But here, in the stillness with nothing to distract them, it was strong enough to chase away any troubles, any fears.
Even the nightmares seemed far away now, far in the past. Lingering fear evaporated in the face of Aziraphale’s steadfast love. There was nothing for Crowley to be scared of now, not when he was in his husband’s arms.
“Not sure what I wanna do,” he finally said as he tried to think through some options.
Could go out in the garden together, pick flowers for each other and laugh at the antics of their ducks and chickens. Or they could take the Bentley for a drive, maybe go to the beach and collect seashells. Or they could head out on the walking trails that adjoined the property, vanish into the gorgeous hills of the South Downs, and walk hand in hand all damn day.
Aziraphale hummed contentedly as Crowley snuggled closer. “Well, it is rather obvious to me what you’d like to do, if I may make a suggestion?”
“Mm,” Crowley agreed.
Aziraphale brushed light, careful kisses to his head, his neck. One hand slid up, curling protectively around the back of Crowley’s neck and holding him close. “I think you wish to stay right here for the time being. There’s no need for you to try sleeping again, with how badly that’s been going, but you are welcome to as many snuggles as you can bear.”
“Hhhngh. I can bear a lot of snuggles.” Cheeks warming with faint embarrassment, Crowley buried his face in the softness of Aziraphale’s neck. “I don’t really feel like talking. Is that okay?”
“Of course it’s okay, my dearest,” Aziraphale said with an earnestness that banished any lingering doubts or insecurities. “You must never feel as though you’re obligated to chatter away, or to do anything that you don’t want to do.”
Crowley didn’t feel obligated at all, and he demonstrated that by kissing Aziraphale’s shoulder in thanks rather than answering. He curled up in the reassuring embrace, closing his eyes. The screams of the nightmares still echoed, far off in the distance, but in time they would fade away and be replaced by peaceful quiet.