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“Crowley. Could you stop this?”
“Wot do you mean, Angel?”
“This… fidgeting. Walking a hole into my carpet.”
“Ah.” Crowley nodded, then shook his head sagely. “Nope. No can do, Angel.”
“Why not?” Aziraphale asked warily.
“’Cause it helps,” Crowley said. ”With… with the pain. Walking around helps more than being still.”
Not like he was ever normal about sitting still, but this, now? It was insufferable, he had to admit.
“I… see. How do you mean?”
As always, Crowley was reluctant to admit being in pain in the first place, but the cat was out of the bag now.
“Hurts less. You’ve got no idea how many steps I do daily when the pain resurfaces like this.” Admittedly, Crowley tried to hide it, but there was no reason to; he and the Angel were beyond that point now in their relationship. “So many sssteps.”
That didn’t even cover it. Wandering did help, but on the other hand—it could get utterly exhausting. One moment he was walking, almost drilling a hole into the floor with the circles he had been doing and the other—he was sitting, because it suddenly got too much. Repeat ad nauseam. Utterly uncontrollable and so, so annoying that Crowley was sick of it.
As usual, Aziraphale’s gentle voice got him out of his head.
“Shall we go to the park then? Would that help you stretch your legs some more?”
Crowley sighed; it was probably the best course of action—and another way to spend time together despite him hurting.
“Hnngk. Eh. Yes, Angel, pro’ly would. Juss’ a tad.”
“We could also visit our feathered friends.” The angel smiled at that and Crowley immediately mimicked him. “It’s been quite a while since we’ve fed the ducks, don’t you think?”
Spirit a bit restored, the demon agreed, “Hm. Yeah. They ought to have their share of peas. Let’s go, Angel.”