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The bus driver was extremely confused as to why he wasn’t driving to Oxford. Logically, he knew that was the next stop on his route. But his hands were driving the nearly empty bus straight into London.
Crowley, of course, would say he had nothing to do with this. It was just pure coincidence that the Oxford bus decided to go to London, specifically to the large building where Crowley’s flat was. And perhaps a small miracle, but no one really noticed it.
So the bus drove to London, and an angel and a demon stumbled up the steps to a dark apartment. Aziraphale stood primly next to Crowley’s desk while the demon slumped in his chair.
“Well,” Aziraphale started. “Heaven is not going to be happy about this.”
“Really. You don’t say,” Crowley drawled. “But they love you up there.”
“They’re going to try something. I just know it.”
“Eh. Probably.”
“You don’t seem too concerned,” Aziraphale scoffed. “Don’t think they won’t come for you, too.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Crowley shut his eyes and leaned back against the chair. The sheer effort of keeping the car together and stopping time had worn him out; he really just wanted to go to sleep and forget about Heaven and Hell.
“Crowley…”
“Mm?”
“You do know you’re bleeding, right?” Aziraphale asked carefully.
“I’m what?”
“Your arms are all cut up. And…”
Crowley looked down at himself in shock. Apparently, he’d been imagining he was fine, so he had been fine. But he’d broken concentration, and was now decidedly not fine. His arms were laced with burns and cuts, and his head was throbbing.
“Right, nothing a quick miracle can’t fix,” Crowley muttered, waving his hand. He stared down at his arms, waiting.
Aziraphale stared at him. “Was something meant to happen?”
“Er. Yes. Why…”
“Let me try.” Aziraphale breathed in, then brought his hand down gently.
“...still nothing,” Crowley groaned, throwing his head back. “Oh… Beelzebub! They probably put a miracle blocker on my flat.”
“Well. We shouldn’t leave yet – in case we arouse suspicion, you know – and we still need to get you fixed up somehow.”
“There’s a, uh, med kit in the bathroom,” Crowley muttered. He rubbed his forehead, then continued. “Not much in it. I only kept it because miracling every little cut away got annoying. And also got me a lovely little lecture from Beelzebub.”
“I’ll go grab it.”
Crowley laid back in his chair, sighing. They couldn’t stay here forever. He knew that eventually, Heaven and Hell would come for them. But this was nice for now.
He didn’t actually know how he’d gotten this injured. He supposed that part of it was the car explosion, part of it was the whole stopping-time business (every supernatural being knew that required a tremendous amount of energy), and part being forced to bow to the ground for Satan.
Crowley hated Satan. Odd, as all the other demons basically worshipped the guy. But Crowley knew that he was forced to serve the devil, and, well, Satan wasn’t exactly the best boss.
Aziraphale came waltzing back into the room with the med kit. “You know, you probably ought to shower,” he thought out loud, pulling out bandages. “You’ve got all that ash on you.”
“Right. Okay. Just got to grab clothes, and then we’ll be…” Crowley stood up, wobbled once, and promptly collapsed.
-----
Several lengths of time later (Crowley couldn’t tell how long it had been, though the windows were lightening), the demon woke up. He was sprawled out on the couch with Aziraphale dozing off in a chair next to him.
“Er. Hey.”
“Oh, dear!” Aziraphale exclaimed, jumping up. “Ah, hello. How are you feeling?”
“Terrible.”
“Ah. Well, you were only out for about an hour,” Aziraphale said, getting up. “I made tea. I hope that’s all right. I thought you hated tea, though, and you’ve got oodles in your kitchen.” He handed Crowley a dark mug with a neat white print that said You Know What to Do, Do it With Style.
“I keep it there for company,” Crowley muttered, accepting the tea.
“Of course. Well, I didn’t bandage you up, because you weren’t awake and I didn’t know if I should move you, and –”
“It’s fine, Aziraphale. Really. Erm… I need to shower,” the demon stated, sighing.
“I don’t know if –”
“I’m going to, Aziraphale, head injuries be damned.”
“At least let me help you,” Aziraphale protested as Crowley tried to stand up.
“Help me?”
“Just help you walk to the bathroom. That’s it. Here, I’ve pulled out new clothes.”
“Fine,” Crowley snapped, secretly relieved to have Aziraphale to lean on. They staggered to the bathroom together, arms around each other’s shoulders.
Crowley’s bathroom was almost completely black, with sleek, shiny tiles and a feeling that touching anything in it would ruin the atmosphere.
“I see why you don’t really like it here,” Aziraphale mumbled as he helped Crowley sit down on the edge of the tub.
“Just gives off those comfy-cosy vibes, doesn’t it?”
Aziraphale chuckled. “Now, I’ll stay right outside the door, but I won’t come in unless I hear something falling or you yelling.”
“Right. Thank you,” Crowley said as Aziraphale walked out and shut the door behind him.
Aziraphale sat down outside the bathroom, back pressed to the wall. He took a moment to take a deep breath, exhaling as he put his head in his hands. He was tired, too. It had been a long day. Well. A long week. Long month. Long life. However you wanted to put it, it was draining. But they were going to be okay. They were always okay, in the end.
Several minutes later, Crowley emerged, dressed in an exact replica of his earlier outfit, but with his jacket thrown over his shoulder. “Mind fixing me up?”
“Well, no, I wouldn’t mind. But I had an idea, and it would require you to… not have bandages all over your arms.”
“Oh… all right. What’s your idea?”
“We switch.”
“What?”
“We switch places. Look,” Aziraphale dropped his voice. “They’re going to come for us. And in the event that our respective sides both try to… get rid of us, we should switch.”
“Yeah, yeah, that’s actually a good plan,” Crowley mused. “We ought to switch now. Sun’s about to come up.”
“But the miracle blocker!”
“Oh, Hell hasn’t updated the terms and conditions of the miracle blockers in decades. And besides, they never thought of an angel and a demon switching bodies.”
“Terms and conditions?”
“Yes, they’re quite lengthy. Forgot to put this in, though,” Crowley said, then grabbed Aziraphale’s hand.
Aziraphale immediately was overcome with a wave of pain. He stumbled backwards, surprised at how tender his arms were.
“All right there, angel?” Crowley asked. He slouched against a wall, grinning.
“Ah. Yes, of course,” Aziraphale replied. He was impressed with Crowley’s strength. He’d pushed through his injuries like they were nothing. “Are you ready to go? I believe the ducks at the park would rather like some peas.”
“Oh, I don’t believe we’ll be having peace for quite some time.” Crowley smirked and led Aziraphale out of the flat.