Ineffably Oblivious ( Ineffable Husbands One-Shots )

A Cold Cliché

The cliché chapter except we have a new take on it—

Summary
Demons and angels can get sick just about as easy as humans can- they just won't die from it- Crowley isn't convinced that that's entirely true.

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Word Count: 1456

Requested by: @/water-is-a-lie (on tumblr)

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Crowley sniffled as he made his way down the street towards a familiar shop.
He hadn't exactly planned on getting sick- nobody really did- he was simply curious as to why the ducks had stopped swimming in the pond.
Well, that wasn't exactly true.
According to what crowley might say, the ducks were giving him odd glares, with the whole pond frozen over it caused all of them to rest on land— more specifically, by the bench he and Aziraphale usually sat at.
Whilst waiting for the angel to arrive, Crowley had noted to aggressive, or what he thought to be aggressive, quacking at him.
He interpreted this as the ducks proclaiming him a coward.
And he'd be damned if he'd stand for that.
He'd show those ducks.
They were afraid to get in cold water?
Fine.
Crowley was not.

This was followed by absurd gasps and screams as a darkly-clothed man leapt into the frozen-over pond, cracking the ice and plunging into the waters below.
He didn't resurface for quite some time, considering the cold still gave him a shock despite Crowley not needing oxygen.
He then took the time to flip off the fish who had been smugly sitting at the bottom, assuming they were safe from any hungry ducks, or those alike, from the surface.
After throughly scaring the aquatic life, Crowley had emerged from the water and stepped out of it like he'd merely dipped his toe in.
A small snap from the demon's fingers left police officers to be more concerned with a cat that had miraculously shown up in a tree in the middle of winter, than by some other call they had all forgotten by some miracle.

By the time the demon returned to the bench, the ducks had flown away.

Truly, it was out of the start they'd been given from the loud crack and splash that was a demon hitting the water, but Crowley believed it to be the fact that they couldn't face defeat.
Leading him to smugly walk home-

—And promptly wake up the next day, unable to miracle anything correctly and having a runny nose, sore throat, and fever.

Demons and Angels can't die from sickness- no, but they can receive the symptoms, both on a human level and on a celestial level.

Human level being the previously listed symptoms.
Celestial level being the fact that, should a demon get sick, or an angel for that matter, rather than the annoyance of a red nose or swollen tonsils, their ability to strictly miracle things is tampered with.
Where one may try and miracle a rubber duck,
An actual duck may appear—
Or something not even of the sorts.
A pineapple is what appeared for Crowley when he snapped his fingers for some tissues...his already achey body was not in the mood for such spikes, despite their lumpiness.

This then prompted his feet to shuffle in the direction of Aziraphale's bookstore, where a celestial being that actually could function correctly would be on standby.

Crowley had decided long ago that asking for help was a Coward's way out. Which was why he stumbled the streets with four layers of clothes on versus taking a cab.
This, however, did not extend to requesting convince.
Which is how he justified showing up at the angel's front door and shouldering it open, startling what few customers were there with his sniffly appearance.
He quickly sunk his head into the layers of scarves around his neck, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets, and stumbling over to the front desk best he could.
Aziraphale was not currently there and he could miracle the lock to the back room open so, hesitantly, he raised a wool-gloved hand and pressed it down on the bell, which meant that, usually, a customer needed help...so Aziraphale ignored the bell at first, he'd avoid it as long as he could.