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Wind whipped through the empty street, the rain blowing almost horizontal in the yellow glow of the street light. Crowley hunched his shoulders against the wind, pulling his jacket closer. He wished he had the ability to shiver.
His wings were drenched, too wet to use, and they weighed heavily against his back. He shouldn't have been out at all. It was so cold, and so wet it was as if Hell had drummed up the weather just to torment him.
He shouldn't have been out.
But he had been inside for so long, hiding from the cold and the wet. Aziraphale had been gone for weeks, away at some book fair, or book tour or something of that sort. And the silly angel had never figured out cell phones. Not that Crowley thought he would call if he did. Not when there were rare books to see.
He had slept, but it was too boring, and he couldn't relax properly. Every time he was about to drop off into a deep sleep, he would think that he had been dozing for too long, and that he would miss Aziraphale's return. He had tried to encourage his plants to grow, but his heart wasn't in it. How could he expect them to grow in this cloudy cold? He had thought of traveling somewhere else, but anywhere he thought to go didn't seem worth it. What was the point of going to a beach if Aziraphale wasn't next to him, complaining about sand in his books?
He should have gone with the angel, and suffered through boring books and dull talk. He knew that now. But they had spent centuries apart from each other. A few weeks was nothing. It should have been nothing.
It wasn't nothing. Crowley didn't know what to do without Aziraphale now. Maybe he never had, not without Hell's orders to distract him.
So when the sun peeked out from behind the clouds for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, he had jumped at the chance to get out.
The deluge had come so fast, he was almost positive it was Hell's doing. One second there was sun, and the next the sky was black and icy rain was falling in sheets. He was soaked in seconds, and stranded miles from his flat, because he had wanted to stretch his wings and his legs instead of taking his Bentley out.
He pulled his jacket closer, trying to draw any warmth from it, even if he knew it was useless.
He had no body heat. There was no heat for the coat to return to him.
It was absolutely crucial that he get inside. He needed to get out of these wet clothes. He needed to get out of the rain before he fell asleep. Because if he fell asleep like this, he wouldn't wake up again.
He looked around blearily, trying to find a place to take shelter. Cold was already seeping into his bones. He couldn't think.
The flat was too far away. He would never make it.
But Aziraphale's shop was closer. It wasn't far at all. He could get there.
He took a step forward and lifting his leg felt like lifting a stone. It was like the earth was calling him, dragging him down. He wanted to sink down, curl up, and float away. That was a dangerous, dangerous feeling.
He grit his teeth and pushed against the wind. The sun was almost fully gone, and the temperature was dropping even further. His clothes clung to his skin, holding that icy wetness against his skin.
He just needed to not think about it. He would be warm again soon. He could get to Aziraphale's, and then he would be able to rip off these horrid wet clothes and curl up against the heater. It would probably already be warm. Aziraphale was gone, but he probably wouldn't want to leave his books in the cold.
Maybe he could convince the angel to go on vacation with him. Somewhere warm. The Bahamas, maybe. They could lay out on a beach somewhere. Enjoy piña colada instead of wine for a change.
One foot.
Then the other.
Keep moving.
Or they could go to Australia. It would be summer there. Nice and hot. And they could go see the opera house. Aziraphale would enjoy that. He deserved to have some fun. Forget about all that ugly business with his wings. With heaven.
One foot.
Then the other.
Keep moving.
The wind was like an icy fist. It knocked the breath out of him. Nearly knocked him off his feet.
He needed to focus. He needed to get home.
Aziraphale would probably be upset when he found out. Scold him for getting caught in the rain like an idiot. But he wouldn't really be angry. He would make him sit on that awful sofa and wrap him in blankets and ply him with cocoa until he was nearly bursting even if he was perfectly fine at that point.
Crowley would let him, of course.
He tripped on a crack in the sidewalk and landed hard on the concrete. He couldn't get his arms to work in time and his chin caught the fall. If he had been human, he probably would have shattered his jaw. Pain shot like a lance through his head and settled somewhere behind his eyes.
He was so cold.
It would be easy to close his eyes. Block out the pain, the cold. He was already on the ground. He just needed to curl up. Conserve what little heat he had left.
Sleep.
No. He couldn't sleep. His head felt like it was full of cotton, and he couldn't quite remember why he couldn't sleep, but he knew that he couldn't.
He needed to keep going. He needed to get home to Aziraphale.
Forcing his arms to obey, he pushed himself up from the ground and then on to his feet. He swayed where he stood as a group of people streamed passed him.
They couldn't see him. It took extra effort for a demon to be seen by mortals. All his efforts were going into holding his human shape. He didn't have anything left.
One foot.
Then the other.
Just don't stop moving, it would be over soon.
He was almost there. He could see the shop now. Just a little further.
He lost his arms. They sank into his torso, making his form going more snakelike than he cared for, but he didn't spare time to think about it. He needed to keep moving.
Aziraphale's door was an obstacle he hadn't anticipated. He knew the angel was gone, but the door was never locked for Crowley. That wasn’t something he had to worry about, but with his arms misplaced, he couldn't quite open the door.
The rain continued to fall, pelting his neck like needles. He leaned over, trying to get the handle into his mouth. His jaw unhinged, the cold metal of the handle clicked against his teeth. He tried to twist his head to open the door, but the handle slipped out from his mouth when he did. He couldn’t turn it.
He needed to get inside. If he could get inside he would be warm and Aziraphale would come. It might take a while, but he would come. And the store would be warm and dry.
He was so tired, but he couldn't give up. He pulled at something inside of himself, the thing that lets him do miracles and change his shape. There wasn’t a lot there, but there was enough.
The arm he formed separated from his body like pulling a stick from tar, strings of flesh connecting the stump to the rest of his body. He couldn't be bothered to form the proper number of fingers. Two and a thumb were enough to work the knob.
The door swung open and he nearly fell through the doorway, his useless arm snapping back into the trunk of his body.
The store was dark. And it was so, so cold.
He made it two more steps into the shop, letting the door close behind him. But that was all he could do. His form rippled and dissipated. In a moment, he was nothing but coils upon coils of snake.
He was so tired. He couldn't move, so he just stayed where he had landed in front of the door. At least he was out of the rain. His clothes had disappeared with the rest of his human body, so he didn't have any horrid wet things pressing against his skin.
He just wished it was warmer in here.
There was nothing he could do. He didn't have the strength to move. Didn't have the strength to keep his eyes open. They closed against his will, and the darkness swallowed him whole.
Aziraphale swore under his breath as he opened his umbrella for the third time that day. The weather was absolutely miserable, which matched his mood quite well, but that didn't mean he was happy about it.
Why did humans have to be so difficult? Why did everything have to be so difficult all the time? He had been having a lovely time at the World Rare Book Expo, and had almost gotten hold of a full signed series of first edition prophetic books he had been drooling over the whole week.
And then he had gotten notification that the heat to the shop had been shut off due to an unpaid bill.
Or several unpaid bills. He couldn’t be bothered to remember such mundane things.
Who had invented capitalism, anyway? It had probably been hell. Maybe even Crowley directly. It seemed like the sort of nonsense he would make up. He would have to ask him about it when he saw him next.
The bastards had the gas anyway so why did he have to pay for the damned stuff?
He considered going directly to Crowley's flat and spending the whole night complaining about the rude ending to his trip. Preferably over a bottle of wine. But all that would have to wait. He had rushed back to fix this because he did have some very old books that needed to be temperature controlled.
Books were so needy. And the older they got, the more they needed.
So he couldn’t just go and spend time with Crowley like he wanted to. He had to go and take care of his books, first.
He hurried through the rain soaked streets towards his shop. The sooner he could get there and lock up, the sooner he could get to Crowley.
Finally, he could see the shop, and he hurried to get out of this miserable weather.
He pushed the door open, eager to get inside out of the wet, but the door only opened part of the way before jamming against something.
Frowning, he pushed harder against the door. It moved, but not by much.
Had something been knocked over? Had he been robbed and they knocked over all his shelves?
He shoved hard at the door until there was enough room for him to squeeze into his shop. As he pushed past the door, he tripped over what almost felt like a rolled up carpet.
Leaning down in the darkness, he moved his hand along the strange thing and felt scales.
Crowley.
He jumped over the snake and slammed the door shut. Why was Crowley a snake? Why had he been blocking the door?
"Crowley? Crowley, what's happened?"
Crowley didn't respond, didn't so much as twitch. Aziraphale leaned down and shook at the heavy coils of muscle, trying to wake him as he searched for his head.
He felt very, very cold.
Aziraphale felt panic rise up and threaten to choke him. He shoved it down and tried to think. Crowley was cold. That was bad, but it took more than that to kill a demon.
It had to.
He needed to get Crowley warm as fast as possible. He gathered up the coils of the great serpent, trying to hold as much of Crowley close to his body as possible. Loops of his body hung around Aziraphale’s neck and draped over his arms, dragging on the floor. He grunted under the weight, but headed up the stairs, making sure that Crowley’s head wasn’t one of the parts of him that touched the ground
There was only one thing he could think of to get Crowley warm. He couldn't just wrap him in blankets. Without any body heat of his own, that would only serve to trap in the cold. He had to do something that would bring his body up to the proper temperature.
Shoving the door to the bathroom open, he tried to set Crowley down gently, but he lost his grip and dumped the massive snake into the tub. He winched, but gathered the rest of Crowley and placed the coils gently into the bath before turning on the hot water. After a moment, he turned on some of the cold water, too, just so Crowley didn't go into shock or anything like that.
As the tub filled, he pulled up Crowley's head to make sure he didn't drown him, gently petting between his eyes.
There was nothing else he could do but wait for Crowley to wake up.
Warm.
Crowley was so warm. He felt cozy and safe and... strangely wet, but it didn't bother him. Someone was petting his head. It was very nice.
"I would really appreciate it if you could wake up soon, my dear."
Oh, but he didn't want to. He hadn't been this warm in ages.
"Please, Crowley," Aziraphale whispered.
Crowley peeled his eyes open, flicking his tongue at the angel just inches from his face. The worry was clear on Aziraphale's face, but he could see it melt away just moments after he had opened his eyes, so it couldn't be too bad.
"There you are," Aziraphale cooed, running his thumb over Crowley's nose and between his eyes. He let his eyes slide shut again, but flicked his tongue out against the skin of Aziraphale's wrist to let him know he was still awake.
Aziraphale smelled like lightning and worry.
"I'm so sorry, love. I had my heat shut off and had to try and get that sorted out, but they want money and my... my ability to perform miracles has been lacking lately."
Crowley opened one of his eyes again, worry cracking his warm calm. He was met with a bop on the nose before he could fully process that emotion.
"Hush, I'm fine. I just... might have to engage in capitalism. I'm more worried about you. Coming home to a pile of cold serpent was... not nice."
He huffed air out of his nose at that, the closest thing a snake can get to laughing. Aziraphale's powers of understatement never failed to amuse him. He watched as Aziraphale's eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled.
It might still be too early. He was still tired all the way to his bones, but he forced his form to shift, molding it into a human shape. He wanted to smile back at Aziraphale. Hold him, and be held by him. He couldn't do that quite right as a serpent.
Stretched out on his stomach, he made sure to form his new, proper arms over the rim of the tub so he could still hold himself up. "Sorry to worry you, angel," he said, a cheeky smile spoiling the effect of his words.
Aziraphale didn't seem to mind. He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to Crowley's forehead, pushing back Crowley's hair as he did. "You still feel a bit cold. Should you be going all human so soon?"
"Can't talk to you otherwise," he said with a shrug. "Besides, the water's gone a bit cold." It hadn't. Not really. But he had had a very trying morning, and he wanted to cuddle. He couldn't very well do that in the bath without getting Aziraphale all wet.
"The heat's out, Crowley. I'm not sure you should get out of the tub until your temperature has gone back to normal."
Crowley was not above pouting. He considered himself quite good at it when he wanted to be, and he hit Aziraphale with the full force of his best puppy face.
"Oh all right . But wait a moment. I think I have some actual wood around here somewhere. I want to get a fire going before you get out."
Aziraphale didn't give him a chance to argue, and he really wasn't going to try. He could still feel that horrible chill deep in his bones, and as much as he wanted to wrap himself around his angel, he didn't want to be cold at all when he did.
He watched as Aziraphale left the bathroom, and slipped back into his snake form as soon as the angel was out of sight. He sank deeper into the bath until only his nose was sticking out of the water. It wasn't nearly as comfortable as it was before with Aziraphale by his side, but it was still better than that icy rain.
He didn't quite fall asleep again, but he did relax enough that time had no meaning. The world was soft and grey and it didn't matter how long Aziraphale was gone, because he knew he would be back. He had only just left. He had always been gone. But he would be back before they returned to the nothingness from which they had been made.
That was all that really mattered.
Hands invaded his watery safe house, and he wrapped himself around his captor as he was pulled from the water. Aziraphale didn't seem phased, just gathered as much of him in his arms as he could and pulled him away from the tub.
Crowley was so sleepy. He didn't normally sleep, and he had been sleeping before, so he shouldn't be sleepy now, but he was. Aziraphale was warm and soft, the perfect pillow.
Aziraphale sat down on the couch and untangled Crowley from around his body. He tried to squeeze tighter around the angel but it didn't do any good and he was deposited in a pile of pre-warmed blankets, Aziraphale disappearing from his view. He turned back to a human shape so he could complain properly.
"I'll be right back, you baby," Aziraphale called from the doorway.
Objectively, Aziraphale was gone much less time than before, but it felt like longer this time. He couldn't go half to sleep. The fire and warm blanket were nice, but it wasn't the all encompassing warmth of the bath. He couldn't relax properly without Aziraphale there.
His angel returned with a steaming mug and pushed Crowley forward so he could slot himself behind him. He passed Crowley the mug and he sniffed it curiously.
Cocoa.
He knew it.
Aziraphale pulled him back so Crowley was leaning against his chest and pulled the blankets up. Crowley sipped at his cocoa. It was a sweeter drink than he normally liked, but right now it was the perfect thing.
He never wanted to leave this place. If eternity was spent in front of this fire wrapped up in Aziraphale's arms, he might have let the apocalypse go on as planned.
Maybe.
Best that they didn't have to find out.
"I could... uh, fix your electric bill problem. If you wanted."
"Oh, you don't have to do that."
Crowley tipped his head so he could look at Aziraphale. "I want to though. Until we sort out what's going on."
Aziraphale laughed and pressed a kiss to his temple. "I know what's going on, Crowley. ...I'm being cut off from the power of heaven."
He squeezed the arm wrapped around his middle. "Well, yeah, but that doesn't have to mean anything. We're on our side, remember?"
Crowley felt Aziraphale press his head against his shoulder. "I don't think it works like that, my dear. And I... I appreciate the thought, but if I trade heaven's powers for hell's..."
"Hey," he pushed back against his angel, reveling for a moment in his warmth. "No way I'd let you fall, angel. And anyway, I've been off hell''s power grid for months."
"What? Really?"
Crowley nodded. "Sure. I might be on semi-speaking terms with a few of the citizens of hell, but that doesn't mean I'm invited to the Christmas party or anything."
Plus they may have tried to kill him today.
Aziraphale probably didn’t need to know that, though.
"Hell has Christmas parties?"
"Well, not literally . You know what I mean."
"But, then how are you still performing miracles?"
He shrugged. "Different power source, I guess. Took some time to get it just right, but it wasn't too hard after I got the hang of it."
Aziraphale held him even tighter, like he was afraid Crowley might float away.
"I could show you. If you want." He could probably perform a minor miracle at this point. He was plenty warm enough now.
"Plenty of time tomorrow, my dear. Now shush and drink your cocoa before it gets cold."
Crowley grinned and sipped dutifully at his cocoa.
It felt nice to be taken care of.