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As a demon, Crowley can feed on negative emotions. As a demon living in a human corporation it works a bit differently.
The negativity is still good for him, but not his body, and so to process them Crowley likes to do what he calls “napping it off” in which he enters a human-like sleep and metabolizes all the negative emotions not unlike a plant photosynthesizing. Taken every two to three weeks, these naps last anywhere from one to two days. He won’t go longer than a month without sleeping, as he couldn’t disappear for longer than a week without someone noticing, be it Hell or humans.
Crowley had tried not to nap it off once in the early years of humanity, had went a whole 50 years without succumbing to the urge. Then after a particularly difficult year he blinked and woke up nearly a century later, half buried, to a near completely different world. It wasn’t an experience he had wanted to repeat, and so he had stuck to his schedule ever since.
When the countdown had begun to Armageddon, and Crowley had added the title of “Nanny” to names that she answered to, her naps had had to become shorter, but more frequent. She had ended up adopting the habit of staying awake during the week and sleeping through her required one day off, until he no longer had need of a Nanny and she had slipped off into the night with a silent but tearful goodbye to her sleeping charge. She slept a week after that night, before approaching Aziraphale with their new tutor identities.
His sleeping habits largely returned to the way they were before until the months leading up to Armagedidn’t, during which he started sleeping less and less, ignoring the slow build of negative emotions going on in the back of his mind. He then stayed completely awake through the time in which the little end that couldn’t had come and gone, after they had both survived their respective trials by fire, and then a for a few months following for fear of counter attacks from either of their former sides. He knew it wasn’t the healthiest thing to do, but he could also care less if it meant Aziraphale stayed safe and happy in his shop. His vigil ended when Pestilence came out of retirement and shut down the world, which Crowley considered as a particularly petty “fuck you” from Heaven and Hell, and then proceeded to sleep through the entire quarantine barring a few phone calls with Aziraphale.
After this nap, once again his sleeping habits largely returned to normal, even becoming less frequently needed as it seemed he was perfectly content where he was. Sure, his apartment was taken over by Shax, but he had his plants, he had his Bentley, and he had his angel, and so Crowley was content. Being freed from the job you hated really did a wonder on your mental health, it seems.
And then Gabriel had shown carried in a box by Jim and everything went to shit.
The following week was tied with the end of the world for “most stressful week of Crowley’s existence” and then was capped off by probably the worst heartbreak he had ever felt. It had taken everything in him, after the kiss, not to collapse right there in the bookshop; and he was so, so tired as he stood next to the Bentley in the street. As he had watched Aziraphale walk away for what seemed like the last time, all he wanted to do was sleep.
Muriel and the humans found him a week later napping on the bench in St James.
But rather than blow up at them when he awoke, Crowley surprised nearly everyone by thanking them. He then made his way back to where his car sat obediently where it was parked, no traffic officers having made the mistake of approaching her, offering them a lift back to the shops. They’d ask him if he was alright, of course they would already have an idea about the angel, but Crowley would say nothing.
Over the next few weeks, the demon became a regular at Nina’s shop, ordering the same thing he had the first time, slowly beginning to look like he actually needed it. She would ask, bluntly as she knew he wouldn’t answer otherwise, if he had been sleeping at all since that day. He would reply only that demons didn’t sleep, before walking out of the coffee shop and disappearing for a week.
Crowley used to love to sleep, as it had meant he was going to dream. His dreams usually consisted of the same peaceful scene: him and his angel relaxing together, not a worry for anything but his plants or the angel’s books. Sometimes they were drinking in the bookshop, sometimes they were dining out, and in his deeper dreams, they simply sat together at Alpha Centauri and talked.
Those dreams used to be his safe place, and they made his naps something bearable that he even looked forward to at times after a particularly bad week. Now, those dreams mocked him, showed him exactly what he was never going to have. They weren’t safe anymore, so Crowley was going to avoid them as long as possible. If that meant no sleep, so be it.
Before his corporation could drag him kicking and screaming into sleep, suddenly the angel appeared once again with news of, surprise surprise, another attempt at ending the world. Despite everything, Crowley didn’t want the world that had become his home to be destroyed, and so naps were put on the back burner and eventually forgotten about altogether as he focused on saving it yet again.
He knew the angel was attempting the same from where he was, and so Crowley did his best to complete it without involving the angel too much directly, but that soon proved impossible when the fate of the world seemed to really depend on if the two of them got along. Luckily they were able to put everything else aside and actually talk to each other for once, and while it seemed agonizing at the time, he couldn't complain in the end.
It had gotten Crowley his angel after all.
But between the love, the buying a cottage together, the sharing their life in a way they had never been able to before, Crowley forgot about the naps. He forgot about how long it had been since he last had, the negativity that had built up inside of him that he had never slept off. With how good his life had been going, it was easy to not think about his past pain.
But just because he didn't think about it, doesn't mean it went away. Sometimes it only took a straw to break the camel's back.
It was something small that had caused it.
He was making Aziraphale his afternoon tea, when Crowley found that they were out of sugar unexpectedly. It had only upset him for a second, long enough for him to remember he could just miracle it full again, but before he could do so Crowley found his vision blurring of the edges.
A drop of moisture softly hit the counter next to where he had set down the tea spoon, and he brought a surprised hand to his face as he realized it had come from him. The blurring quickly spread over the rest of his sight before the crash of broken glass and pain on his knees told Crowley he had collapsed to the floor.
Why… why did it feel like the world was ending? It was only some sugar…
He blinked to clear his vision slightly and registered the broken shards of the teacup around him, thoughts belatedly connecting it to the earlier sound and his lack of cup in hand, and this actually upset him. He had broken one of his angel’s cups. It wasn’t his favorite, Crowley never handled his favorite cups for fear of just this things happening, but that didn’t make it any less upsetting to him.
He mutedly registered Aziraphale asking what that noise was from where he was reading in the den, but Crowley couldn't focus on anything but the way his throat was tightening and the air he didn’t need was getting harder to pull in. He could feel his lip beginning to twitch without his permission, silent sobs wracking his frame as his vision is overtaken once more, much more quickly this time.
Beckoned by the sound and lack of response to a called inquiry, Aziraphale found him like that. On his knees on the floor, staring blankly at a broken cup as tears fell from his eyes in fat droplets.
"Dearest, what is the matter? Why is there broken glass on the floor?"
The angel quickly rushed to his side on the floor, miracling the glass away with half a thought. He gently wiped the tears from under Crowley's eyes, thankful to not be inhibited by the sunglasses the demon had abandoned as soon as they had moved into the cottage.
"I... don't know...” he seemed to look up at Aziraphale helplessly as the tears wouldn't stop flowing, cleaning streaks over his dirty skin and no doubt making him look all the more pathetic for it, "We were out of sugar and then suddenly..."
He frowned in a gentle worry at Crowley, the hand wiping his check moving to cup it gently as he met the demon’s eyes searchingly, "What can I do to help, love?"
Love. Even now, months later, hearing the angel call him that made something inside of him writhe in a warmth he was unused to. It was tucked away, that part of him that soaked up the angel’s love like it was the sunlight it had been starved of. Tucked away next to the dreams he had been avoiding...
Ah, right.
"I think I need to sleep For a bit..." Crowley mumbles, tears still silently streaming down his face, as Aziraphale gently picked him up.
Now that he remembered the need, Crowley could feel the fatigue creeping its way over him, settling into his bones like a particularly insistent fog. He felt drained, as if the tears had held a little of his energy each. Still, the tears slowly dripped out the corner of his eye. The feeling of his wet lashes was uncomfortable, but he couldn’t summon enough energy to dry them off.
He made the effort to lean against his angel in just the right way that he could still watch him, knowing soon he would be too tired to do even that.
"Can you put me to bed, ‘ngel?" he felt bad for the look of distress on Aziraphale’s face, but the more tired he felt the more muffled that feeling grew, "Don' think 'll be able t’ sssstay awake that long...."
"Of course, darling," Oh, darling, that was a good one too, the angel only called him darling when he did something the angel thought was particularly charming, "Only, can you explain to me why exactly this is happening?"
Crowley furrowed his brows, realizing in stages that he had never explained what exactly the naps were for, and so Aziraphale likely had no idea what was happening.
"Don’ wrry," he gave him a tired smile, hoping to reassure, "Ssss alrigh. ‘ll exsssplain when I wake 'p."
"Alright, dearest, "Aziraphale replied softly, not speaking again for a while as he began to carry Crowley to a room more suitable where he could gently prepare him for bed.
When he had asked the angel to put him to bed, the most he had thought Aziraphale would do was miracle him into a pair of pajamas before tucking him into bed. Something a far cry from modern, but definitely comfortable; not something he'd ever miracle himself but also not something he would ever complain about. Instead the angel carefully carried him into the master bathroom, wherein sat a large tub already miracled to be nice and warm, steam rising lazily from the water’s bubbly surface.
"We can't have you going to bed when your filthy from being out in the garden all day," Aziraphale reasoned as he sat him on the nearby countertop.
Crowley couldn't argue, could barely find himself wanting to as the angel kneeled down to strip him of his socks and shoes with a near- reverence. Pressing a gentle kiss to the top of each foot as he bared it, Aziraphale set aside his shoes and socks before rising to begin unbuttoning his shirt. Every gentle motion made that small part inside of him grow warmer, and the deep something pulling him into sleep smaller. He didn't mention it, as he knew they wouldn't be able to get rid of it entirely, but with every loving touch Crowley felt as if the time he was going to be asleep lessen and lessen.
The flood of tears had slowed but not entirely ended by the time Aziraphale was gently maneuvering his arms out of his shirt, having all but dried out in the face of his gentle care. Even as he kneeled in front of Crowley to remove his dark jeans and pants, the demon felt nothing but the overwhelming fatigue and the warmth of being so genuinely cared for.
First one leg, and then the other, the angel slipped the first the coarse fabric down his legs and then the soft cotton of his briefs, gently petting the backs of his thighs, where scales had raised in response to the gentle touch. Pressing a gentle kiss to each knee, healing the redness from where Crowley had hit the floor, he tucked him against his chest once more briefly to move him to the claw-footed tub.
He released a hiss that spoke of his demonic nature at he was dipped into the tub, but Aziraphale paid no mind to it as he knew Crowley appreciated the water near-scalding and it wasn’t like the level of heat present could hurt him anyway. After a moment he relaxed into the tub bonelessly, and the angel settled into a chair miracled to sit at the head of the tub to give him access to the supplies he needed to pamper his demon.
He seemed to go through the bath itself in a sort of dreamlike haze as Aziraphale washed his hair first, drizzling an apple-scented shampoo over his hair before beginning to work it in gently. His angel's clever fingers lathering over his scalp had Crowley's eyes nearly rolling, both from the sensation itself and the intimacy held in the action. That part inside him that was growing thanks to the angel seemed to sing from the contact, with every circular motion the darkness of the pit seemed to lighten a little more.
He showed that same if not more devotion when washing Crowley's body as well. With each pass of the loofah —because of course Aziraphale was the type to use a loofah— over his long torso and even longer limbs, one at a time scrubbing them gently. He then pours water over the appendage with a small cup, brushing a gentle kiss to the skin he just rinsed. By the time he had reached the skin of Crowley’s chest, the love that was radiating threatened to lull him to sleep with it's warmth.
Some thing that Aziraphale only encouraged when it was mumbled sleepily, a gently sad sort of happiness filling his face.
"Go to sleep, my dearest," he pressed a kiss to Crowley's forehead as he whispered lovingly, "And when you wake, may you have dreamed of whatever you like most."
The demon smiled at the words, both from recognizing Aziraphale's signature line when helping someone to sleep, and for the reminder he no longer had to dread the dreams he will soon see. With a soft sigh, Crowley slipped into a world of stars and stardust, lulled by the warmth of his angel's love.