The Bentley ground to a halt outside of Crowley's building. Driving through downtown London in an open car in partial demonic form with an injured angel having a nervous breakdown in the passenger seat is not a circumstance known for its calming properties. However, once he had parked, Crowley took a moment to pull himself together. Resting his hands and head on the steering wheel and taking a deep breath, Crowley first adjusted his wings, which he had earlier winched in too hastily. When his shoulder blades were more comfortable, he leaned back into the seat and concentrated. His features softened subtly, his eyes dimmed, teeth returned to their normal state and his sunglasses re-materialized on his nose. Then he repaired his ripped clothing and sighed with relief.
His ablutions done, he turned his attention back to Aziraphale. The angel's eyes were fever bright, his trousers were burned and shredded, the edges of the wound in his calf were turning slightly green, and he appeared to be in shock.
As he stepped out of the car, gathered up Aziraphale, and proceeded to carry him to his flat, Crowley tried to remember what it was you did for people in shock. He seemed to remember something about offering liquids. Well that wasn't a problem. He needed some liquids himself. Oh, but not alcohol. For the one in shock anyway. The one treating the one in shock would need alcohol to avoid shock himself. By this point, Crowley had started on the stairs. Aziraphale's eyes were closed and his head lolled on Crowley's shoulder. Crowley wondered how else he could treat the angel. Something about keeping him cool, wasn't it? No warm, definitely warm. And he did have more holy water in the safe. That might help. Perhaps a damp flannel for his forehead? He had to keep him awake at any rate for some important reason or other.
They had finally reached Crowley's door, which was fortunate as Crowley's strength was flagging. Making a final effort, he hoisted the angel up once more to prevent him from slipping, kicked in the door that he hadn't noticed was slightly open, and carried Aziraphale over the threshold like a newlywed. He managed to take five steps into the flat before taking a deep breath, screaming in pain, dropping the angel and collapsing to the floor.
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2005-08-07 01:44 am (UTC)His ablutions done, he turned his attention back to Aziraphale. The angel's eyes were fever bright, his trousers were burned and shredded, the edges of the wound in his calf were turning slightly green, and he appeared to be in shock.
As he stepped out of the car, gathered up Aziraphale, and proceeded to carry him to his flat, Crowley tried to remember what it was you did for people in shock. He seemed to remember something about offering liquids. Well that wasn't a problem. He needed some liquids himself. Oh, but not alcohol. For the one in shock anyway. The one treating the one in shock would need alcohol to avoid shock himself. By this point, Crowley had started on the stairs. Aziraphale's eyes were closed and his head lolled on Crowley's shoulder. Crowley wondered how else he could treat the angel. Something about keeping him cool, wasn't it? No warm, definitely warm. And he did have more holy water in the safe. That might help. Perhaps a damp flannel for his forehead? He had to keep him awake at any rate for some important reason or other.
They had finally reached Crowley's door, which was fortunate as Crowley's strength was flagging. Making a final effort, he hoisted the angel up once more to prevent him from slipping, kicked in the door that he hadn't noticed was slightly open, and carried Aziraphale over the threshold like a newlywed. He managed to take five steps into the flat before taking a deep breath, screaming in pain, dropping the angel and collapsing to the floor.