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Crowley woke in the middle of the night, shivering with cold, and it took him a few seconds to realize why. He was completely uncovered.
He turned to see Aziraphale fully wrapped in the comforter, with only his fluffy hair sticking out.
The florist would have tried to pull a corner of the blanket to himself, but his lover looked so deeply asleep that Crowley didn't have the heart to wake him.
He rolled over again and prepared to get up to grab something to cover himself with.
As he sat down on the edge of the bed, he suddenly felt Aziraphale's hand on his back as the bookseller's voice came out, muffled by the comforter.
"Crowley, where are you going? What's wrong?"
Crowley replied softly, "I'm just a little cold, and you--"
He couldn't finish his sentence because Aziraphale had wrapped his arms around his waist and Crowley suddenly found himself pressed against his lover's body as he immediately pulled the comforter around them.
Crowley instantly felt the warmth of Aziraphale's body against his back and then spreading throughout his body as the bookseller whispered in his ear in a sleepy voice, "Let me make up for stealing the comforter."
Holding the florist with one arm, Aziraphale ran his other hand down the florist's arms, then up his stomach and chest, intertwining their legs at the same time.
After a few minutes of this gentle care, Aziraphale asked gently, "Do you feel better? Do you think you can forgive me?"
Crowley chuckled softly and placing his hands on his lover's, which were intertwined on his stomach, he replied in a laughing tone, "I'm much warmer now, so I forgive you, but that doesn't mean you should stop, you can keep your arms around me, it's much nicer than the comforter."
He couldn't hold back a yawn at the end of his sentence and leaned back even more against Aziraphale, who replied with a laugh, "Here I am, relegated to the rank of a warm blanket."
Crowley, who was feeling a little dizzy from Aziraphale's warmth, replied, already half asleep, "But I do like that lovely comforter you're making."
Aziraphale laughed softly and then, after planting a kiss on his lover's head, whispered into his hair, "Go back to sleep, my love, I'll take care of you."
He planted one last soft kiss on Crowley's temple and only when he felt his lover fast asleep against him did he let sleep take him as well.
That night, Crowley was not awakened by the cold anymore, for his lover would not let him go until he woke up again.