Good Omens One Shots 1

Memory 8

"Oh." the demon vaguely remembered that, "Well, I'm feeling better now." he reassured the nervous looking angel.

Aziraphale clasped his hands in front of him with a smile, "Oh that's good! Would you like something to drink? Something to eat?" he went to the side table and picked up the glass of water there, "I couldn't get you to consume anything last night, I was nervous there was going to be nothing left in your system to throw up at one point. Here drink some water." he lifted the glass to the demon's lips.

Crowley took a few baby sips of the water, enjoying how the cool liquid flowed down his sore throat like a balm. But soon enough he was pushing the glass away. "I'm okay, angel. Really," he muttered, throwing a leg over the side of the bed.

Aziraphale hovered by his side, as if he was about to collapse at any moment. The demon stretched and yawned, glancing down at his pajamas once again.

He glanced over to the angel, "Tartan pajamas? Really?" he asked, rolling his eyes playfully.

Aziraphale blushed and stepped away, "I think they look very dashing."

"Of course you do." The demon grumbled moving to the wardrobe to find something more suitable since his miracles didn't seem to be working at this point in time.

The angel cleared his throat from behind him, "Um, dear?"

Crowley paused, looking over at Aziraphale expectantly.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm looking for clothes." the demon raised his eyebrows as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. He had just seen Aziraphale rummaging around in this same wardrobe for his own clothes yesterday. "You don't expect me to stay in tartan forever do you?"

"Oh, well..." The angel fidgeted coming over next to him, "You don't really keep clothes here." He explained, "You don't keep clothes at all — besides what you wore to the wedding — you usually just... miracle everything on."

Crowley nodded. Well, that complicated things. Taking a deep breath, he tried once more to miracle proper clothes onto himself again. Snap. The miracle worked. He breathed a sigh of relief as tight clothing encompassed his body.

Aziraphale tilted his head in confusion at the dramatics of it all and shook his head. "Come along, love. I've made tea." he said, moving out the door, "I'm glad you're feeling better."

The world tilted around the demon as he stumbled after the angel. That miracle must have really taken it out of him.. Thankfully the world seemed to right itself as he entered the kitchen.

Breathing a sigh of relief as he sat down across from the angel for tea. Aziraphale was humming a little tune while he flit around the table, pushing some biscuits over to the demon. The worry lines on the angel's face had yet to disappear so Crowley reluctantly picked up a biscuit and nibbled on it. Hopefully it would appease Aziraphale's nerves. He didn't usually eat, it was never much of a priority. It wasn't like he needed food to survive and it wasn't enjoyable for him like it was for the angel.

Similar to how demon's didn't need food, they weren't supposed to get sick either. So what was going on? His miracles weren't working, he had been throwing up all night, his memories were gone and a million other issues. There was obviously something wrong with him; but, he didn't want to worry the angel anymore than he already had. Aziraphale had taken care of a barely conscious, sick demon all night and also his emotional outpour yesterday over the wedding photos. He was probably exhausted.

The angel moved to the kitchen to pull out a fully baked pie from the oven and inhaled deeply with a smile. "I was thinking of heading to the bookshop today," he called over his shoulder. "There might be some books there that can help with your memory loss."