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“Crowley?” Aziraphale asks, voice slightly muffled because his head is partially buried in Crowley’s hair.
“Mmm?” Crowley responds into Aziraphale’s chest.
Throughout all the different cuddling positions they’ve tested out so far, they always end up coming back to the first one they had naturally fallen into.
“How long has it been?” Aziraphale asks.
Crowley lifts his head slightly so that Aziraphale can hear him.
“Dunno, a few days? A week maybe? Why…do you want to get up?” Crowley panics, tightening his grip around Aziraphale.
If Aziraphale wanted to get up, he would let him of course. Afterall, Crowley’s sure he’s getting tired of cuddling with a demon.
But Crowley doesn’t want Aziraphale to get up. He’s so warm and Crowley truly feels relaxed for once.
And Aziraphale did call them cuddle partners despite his protests at the name.
“Of course not!” Aziraphale replies, “I was just curious.”
Curious? He doubted Aziraphale was just curious about time unless-
“...are you bored, Angel?” Crowley asks, “You could miracle a book to yourself. I wouldn’t mind.”
“How could I ever be bored with you?” Aziraphale says, kissing him on the head.
Crowley closes his eyes. This was truly the best feeling in the universe.
“Was thinking I might sleep some,” Crowley says after a few moments of silence.
They hadn’t slept after the initial cuddling, rather spending the days chatting away or enjoying each other's company in silence.
And Crowley hasn’t wanted Aziraphale to get up and leave once he fell asleep. He’s sure after the sleep Aziraphale got earlier, Aziraphale is unlikely to sleep anytime soon again.
But Crowley is rather exhausted from the months of ruined sleep. Can hardly keep his eyes open, in fact.
And with how relaxed he feels, he’s sure he will finally be able to peacefully sleep.
But he selfishly doesn’t want Aziraphale to leave. Which is why he suggested the book.
“That’s fine, dearest,” Aziraphale says, “You seem rather tired.”
“You can read,” Crowley insists, “I don’t want you to get bored.”
Aziraphale gives him another kiss on the head.
“I won’t get bored,” he insists, “Though I can read out loud to you if you would find that soothing.”
Crowley is surprised at the sudden feeling of longing he feels. That's not something they've ever done before. But suddenly he's never wanted anything more.
“Are you sure, Angel? I don’t want you to get tired. You don’t have to stay here while I sleep. I’m sure you have stuff to do,” Crowley rambles.
Aziraphale’s hand which has been stroking his hair stops. Crowley can hear the frown in his voice when he speaks.
“I’m sure, my dear. Unless you want me to leave…?”
“No!” Crowley yells, holding onto Aziraphale tighter, “Please don’t leave, angel.”
Aziraphale continues stroking his hair.
“Shhh, it’s okay, dearest. I’m not going anywhere. You can get some sleep, I know you must be exhausted. And I can read to you, if you’d like.”
Crowley shakes his head, movement somewhat made awkward by the fact that his face once again smushed into Aziraphale’s chest.
He does want Aziraphale to read to him, but he can’t ask him to do that. It’s bad enough Aziraphale had to hold him while sleeping.
Crowley relaxes against Aziraphale, trying to enjoy the warmth for as long as he can.
Pain. So much pain. That’s all Crowley feels.
He struggles against the restraints, feeling blood running down his wrists from them.
It was hot, too hot. He’s back in Hell, being burned by the heat.
Not again. I thought I was free.
“Free? You’ll never be free,” Hastur’s voice taunts him, “You belong to us.”
“After what you did to Ligur, did you think I’d ever let you go?” Hastur continues.
The scene changes. Crowley restraints are gone and instead of the flames of Hell, he’s kneeling in charred remains of a cottage.
His cottage.
“No,” he moans out, “No no no no. Aziraphale! Aziraphale, where are you?”
Hastur laughs behind him.
“He’s gone,” Hastur says, “You took my best friend from me so I took yours.”
A part of Crowley should have realized that Hastur would never call Ligur his “best friend” but he was too terrified to think.
“No! Aziraphale! Angel! Where are you?”
Hastur grabs him roughly by the arm and drags him through the cottage ruins and throws him in front of a body.
Crowley screams at the site of the badly burned, barely recognizable body.
He throws himself on top of Aziraphale’s remains and screams and sobs, ignoring Hastur’s delighted cackles in the background.
“Aziraphale! I’m sorry, Angel! I failed you,” he sobs out.
“Crowley!” someone’s voice yells out.
Crowley huddles over Aziraphale’s body, trying to protect it from whoever is there.
“I’m sorry, Angel,” he sobs over and over again.
“Crowley!” the voice yells again.
Someone is shaking him and he curls up tighter over the body.
“No!” he yells.
“Crowley!” the voice, Aziraphale’s voice , yells out again.
Crowley gasps as he sits up. He wildly looks around for the ruins of the cottage, the smell of everything burning, Aziraphale’s body…
But there’s nothing. The cottage looks fine, smells fine and most importantly-
“Aziraphale,” Crowley says in a relieved voice, spotting the angel looking at him with concern.
He doesn't hesitate as he throws himself into Aziraphale’s arms and starts sobbing.
Aziraphale rocks him gently, running a hand through his hair and gently speaking to him.
“It’s okay,” Aziraphale says over and over again.
Crowley buries his head into Aziraphale’s shoulder, trying to control his sobs.
It takes him several minutes to control himself and he forces himself to sit back.
He stares at the bed, unable to make eye contact with Aziraphale after his embarrassing outburst.
“Sorry,” he says, “Didn’t mean to disturb you.”
“You didn’t disturb me, dearest,” Aziraphale says, using his thumb to wipe away the tear trails on his face, “Do you want to talk about it?”
Crowley frantically shakes his head.
“That's okay, dearest,” Aziraphale says, “Here, let's get up for a bit.”
Aziraphale helps him out of bed and walks him to the kitchen. He sits Crowley down on the chair then starts pulling out a pot and turns on the stove.
Crowley doesn't have the energy to protest when Aziraphale stops holding him. He shivers, feeling suddenly cold without Aziraphale there.
He’s done enough already, holding you while you sobbed like a child. Get yourself together.
Aziraphale must’ve noticed the shiver as he summons a blanket and wraps it around him. Then he pours the liquid from the pot into a mug and puts it in front of him.
Hot chocolate , Crowley realizes.
“There, drink that, dear,” Aziraphale says gently.
Crowley takes a sip. As usual, the hot chocolate is delicious. Crowley takes a few more sips, hoping the hot chocolate will warm him up.
It doesn’t help much and Aziraphale seems to notice he’s still shivering. Instead of wrapping Crowley up in another blanket, Aziraphale steps close to him and hugs him.
Aziraphale’s warmth surrounds him and Crowley slumps against him. He feels tears dripping down his face again, but can’t stop them.
Aziraphale doesn’t say anything about the tears dripping onto his clothes, just gently strokes his hair and holds him close.
“It’s okay, dear,” Aziraphale says, “I have you.”
Crowley lets out a single sob, trying to choke back the tears.
“It’s okay, dearest. Just let it out.”
Aziraphale gently holds him and gives him reassurances until Crowley manages to stop crying and sit back.
Crowley tries to wipe away the tears with a trembling hand, until Aziraphale pushes a damp cloth into his hand.
“Thanks,” Crowley mutters, cleaning off his face.
He takes a sip of the hot chocolate and winces when the cold liquid hits his tongue. Before Crowley can do it himself, Aziraphale flicks his wrist and the drink reheats itself.
Then he winces again, realizing how long Aziraphale must have held him for, for the drink to get that cold.
“Sorry,” he says, again.
“What for?” Aziraphale asks with a frown.
“Didn’t mean to make you hold me for so long. Wasted your time,”
Aziraphale’s frown deepens.
“I thought we established that I enjoy holding you,” Aziraphale says, putting a hand on his shoulder and giving a gentle squeeze.
Crowley looks away from Aziraphale, feeling ashamed.
“But I’m a demon. Who would want to cuddle with a demon. Don’t deserve it anyways. Demon’s shouldn’t cuddle,” Crowley mumbles.
Aziraphale’s grip on his shoulders tightens slightly.
“I don’t care what you are, Crowley. Demon, human, angel, whatever you are, I love you for you. And you deserve it. Don’t talk about my best friend like that,” Aziraphale says.
Crowley lowers his head and stares at the hot chocolate.
The images of the burned cottage and Aziraphale’s body haven’t left his mind.
“I dreamed Hastur burned down the cottage,” Crowley hesitantly says, “And…you burned with it.”
Aziraphale inhales sharply.
“That sounds quite dreadful,” he says, rubbing Crowley’s shoulder in soothing motions.
“I saw…your dead body!” Crowley chokes out with a sob.
“It’s alright,” Aziraphale says gently, “I promise, nothing happened to the cottage or to me. We’re safe.”
“I know” Crowley says, trying to choke back tears, “It’s stupid, I know everything is fine. It’s just…everytime I close my eyes. I’m back there. Back in Hell or in the bookshop and it’s burning and you keep dying and I can never stop it. It keeps getting worse-”
“Crowley,” Aziraphale cuts him off, “Crowley can you look at me, please?”
Crowley looks up at Aziraphale, but is unable to make eye contact.
“It’s okay. The bookshop is okay, Adam restored it. And you’re not in Hell, you’re in our lovely cottage with me. And I’m fine. I didn’t get hurt in the fire, remember?”
Aziraphale’s gentle words push back the panic. Crowley quickly glances up and then leans towards Aziraphale.
Aziraphale draws him into another long hug, giving him a kiss on the top of head.
“It’s okay,” Aziraphale says, “We’re both safe. And if Hastur even thinks about doing anything against us, I will smite him.”
Crowley lets out a chuckle, imagining Hastur running away from an angry Aziraphale.
“Finish your hot chocolate, dear. And then we can go back to bed. You’re still exhausted.”
Crowley slumps against Aziraphale.
“I’m tired of the dreams, Angel,” he says.
Aziraphale runs his hand through Crowley’s hair.
“You don’t have to sleep. Just laying down will help you get some rest. And maybe I can read to you, if you’d like?”
“That sounds nice,” Crowley says, unable to protest in his exhaustion, “I don’t want you to get tired, though. You don’t have to read out loud.”
“I would be more than happy to read to you, dearest,” Aziraphale insists.
Crowley sits back and quickly finishes up his hot chocolate and washes the mug with a snap of his fingers.
He follows Aziraphale back to bed and buries his face into Aziraphale’s chest. Aziraphale resumes stroking his hair and starts reading in a gentle voice.
Crowley finally manages to relax. He’s safe and Aziraphale is alive.
Crowley drifts off to sleep to the sound of Aziraphale’s voice knowing this time he’ll have sweet dreams.