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It was fall. The first frost had just come over the sleepy little hamlet that Crowley and Aziraphale decided to call home. The cottage was cool enough to be pleasant, a reminder to get in your warm comfortable sleep before the too-cold-and-wet rainier months of winter.
The phone rang and Crowley floundered in sleep, trying to smashed it. Wouldn’t be the first time he’d to had replace it. After that, Aziraphale had insisted it stay on his side of the bed so it was a harder task now.
Newt and Anathema. Something about books, or a translation. Crowley was only half listening from the pile of blankets on the bed, watching Aziraphale pace and get excited, irate that the couple had stolen his warm angelic companion.
Crowley rolled his eyes. “Tell them to sod off!” came his fierce whisper, orange eyes glowing. But he knew that look. Aziraphale was only waiting for the polite moment to say yes.
Crowley grumbled after Aziraphale hung up and turned over.
Aziraphale pulled on his knitted crème colored sweater vest, eyeing the bed (or more specifically, the demonic lump).
“You could always join me, my dear,” he said, making a show of packing. Crowley gave a mumble and stayed buried. “Suit yourself, I should be back by tomorrow’s tea time.”
It was supposed to take exactly 18 hours, but knowing Aziraphale, he’d wanted to be thorough in his work. Crowley expected to add another 6 hours to the timetable.
He’d not planned on Aziraphale being gone for 79 hours… and still counting.
*
What followed after, Crowley didn’t recall. He’d remembered being mopey about the angel being gone for so long. He remembered drinking. He remembered more moping and now, judging by the level of hangover he just miracle away, he found himself in bed. He’d likely imbibed several bottles of the good stuff and then passed out.
Feeling the bed move as he was stirring, slowly realizing someone else was there next to him, he opened his eyes. With great relief, he saw Aziraphale reading, trying to hide his smirk. “Oh, good, you’re up,” he said, without looking, and turned to the next page.
“Angel!” Crowley tried to sit up, or curl around him, he hadn’t decided, but was greeted with the realization that he was wearing one of Aziraphale’s big warm sweaters and the quilt was doubly fluffy. “Didn’t I –“ his mouth was so dry. “When did you get back?”
“Oh, when I was needed.” Aziraphale smiled now, broadly. “You were, um, anxious to see me.”
“Was I?”
“Indeed.”
Crowley rubbed his face and grabbed for is phone. “Oh my, um, I called you last night.”
“You did.”
“Well,” shaking his head, he lulled it to one side. “How’d, uh, that conversation go?”
*
“Hello? HELLO?” Aziraphale shouted into the receiver. (He was still getting the hang of a cell phone. Crowley had insisted he get one after the book shop had burned not-down, even though everything was fine.)
“Angel! No need to yell, (hic) can’ hear you p’fectly.”
“Crowley?” He was coming through rather muffled, but then again, Aziraphale was almost in the mountains, hard to say with reception as it was.
“You saw my name ‘fore you annssssswered – And ‘sides tha’, Who elsssse’ssss go’cha number?”
Aziraphale sighed, and excused himself from the table where Anathema and Newt were pouring over books and papers. “I’m so sorry, my dear. It’s taken longer than I anticip –”
“I misssssss yooooouuuuuuuu!”
Aziraphale smirked to himself. “I – I uh, miss you too, dear, what – “
“D’y’know that vest, the one you put on ‘fore you left?” Aziraphale’s eyebrows raised as he looked down at the very same vest he had on. “Crème one. Love that one.” Crowley sounded as though he was climbing over chairs. “Cute on my Angel, good color. Sss’my favorite.”
Aziraphale blushed, but still heard scuffling, “Crowley, Are – Are you drunk?” Aziraphale tried to look at the phone with a stern scowl, but the red cheeks and smile on his face were betraying him.
Crowley hiccupped a couple of times before answering. “Quite.”
He heard a crash. “Crowley, are you alright?”
“Immma steal it, me.” Some more scuffling. “When y’leasssst exxxxpect’t!”
“Crowley?”
“Oh wait, I’ve got one here!” More crashing. “Not assss good asss t’other bu’ mmm – oh, no Angel?”
Aziraphale pinched the bridge of his nose, “Yes, what is it?”
“It’s smells like youuuuuu,” Aziraphale sighed in relief that his demon sounded unharmed. “I want cuddles, where are youuuuu?”
Chuckling to himself, “Give us a mo’,” he said into the phone.
Poking his head round the corner of a wall, seeing the two humans inside, he made his apologies and grabbed his things. “Something’s come up, I can be back later this week?” They nodded, of course he could go, and he made a show of walking down the block. When he turned the corner, he was suddenly back at their cottage at the front steps.
Coming inside, nothing seemed too out of the ordinary except for several empty bottles and a well-drunk demon on the floor. “”Zzzzzziraphale!”
“Crowley,” he said, smiling far too much.
“Ssss’you, hey, hey, I found this sweater. S’mine now, y’can’hav’t,” and he hugged the sweater close, the arms a little floppier. He couldn’t appear to get them to work, judging by his arms not quite being entirely in the garment.
“It’s yours – but only if you come to bed straight away!” Aziraphale said, trying to sound stern. Crowley scrambled to his feet and crashed into the blankets.
*
“Yikes,” Crowley’s head was in his hand.
“Oh, don’t be like that.” Aziraphale was laughing, and gave him a firm side-hug. “It was 100% the best part of my day!”
Crowley was beet-red and trying to escape, but Aziraphale held him tightly.
“Don’t you go all slithery on me, I came all the way back to cuddle you, as requested!”
Crowley looked up at the ceiling, glancing down at the shock of blonde in his periphery, and blinking too much, looked back at the ceiling again.