Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“You’re weirdly quiet today,” Crawley finally said.

He had been trying not to say anything for a solid hour. He’d noticed Aziraphale’s weird quietness immediately today. No way not to notice it. Aziraphale was always so damn sunshiny and bubbly that any change unnerved Crawley to a degree that he didn’t want to admit.

He also didn’t want to admit he was worried. It wasn’t demonic to worry about anyone other than himself, not even someone he was fairly committed to.

When Aziraphale still didn’t answer, just staring vaguely at the ducks drifting down the Nile, Crawley whistled at him. “Aziraphale.”

“Hmm?” Aziraphale looked up at last. He was still holding a handful of grain—presumably to toss to the ducks—but he hadn’t actually done anything with it yet. “Oh. Hello, Crawley. I’m sorry. Were we talking?”

“Well, I was. For the past hour.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale frowned at the ducks again, expression troubled. “I didn’t mean to ignore you.”

Crawley rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that’s what they all say.”

Aziraphale gave him a confused glance. “Who’s said that to you? I shall have a word with them. That’s very rude.”

“No, I mean…” Cheeks heating up, Crawley crammed his dark glasses more firmly on his face. “Never mind. Call it a figure of speech.” It was more a reference to Hell than anything, but whatever. “What’s going on with you?”

“Well, mostly I’ve been working as a scribe.” As if only now noticing the ducks, Aziraphale tossed down some grain. The ducks paddled over to snap it up. “Sometimes I go for walks. And I make food. And of course, you and I spend most days together, in addition to all the time we spend at the house—”

“Wasn’t asking for an itinerary.” This really was weird, and Crawley didn’t like the increasing twist of anxiety in his chest. He had enough anxiety without worrying about a featherbrained angel. “Why are you upset?”

“Oh, angels don’t get upset,” Aziraphale said, forcing a smile.

“Pretty sure they do.”

“Ah. Well.” With a little sigh, Aziraphale threw down more grain. “I’ve been watching the humans.”

“Oh.” Understanding, Crawley nodded. “Well, there you have it. Watching too many humans is a bad idea. The shit they do to each other would make anyone upset.”

“Goodness, no! That’s not it at all.” Aziraphale looked at him properly this time, seemingly shocked. Crawley tilted his head, quizzical. “No, it’s that they, well… they seem to like being together so much.”

Crawley frowned. “We like being together.”

Immediate panic clawed at him for the vulnerable statement. He compensated by kicking some sand in the river. The ducks gave him an unimpressed look.

“Oh.” For the first time this morning, Aziraphale smiled. “Yes, we do. But I mean, we don’t, well… We aren’t physical.”

Crawley took a step back, a chill rushing through him despite the warm sun. “Physical? Please, my dear Aziraphale, tell me that was not a proposition.”

“A proposition for what?” Aziraphale asked, sounding genuinely confused.

That was probably a good sign. But it didn’t stop the instinctive clawing horror in Crawley’s chest, the urge to keep backpedaling. “A proposition for… fucking.”

“For… what?” Aziraphale looked even more confused now. “I wasn’t proposing you ought to swear more, if that’s what you mean.”

“Sex,” Crawley snapped. “Fucking means sex. Or at least, that’s one meaning. S’ also just a swear word.”

“Oh, I see. Yes. That does clarify some conversations I’ve heard.” Aziraphale slipped off his sandals, sat down, and dangled his feet in the water. Crawley sat too, but didn’t dangle his feet. “But no. That wasn’t what I meant.”

Crawley let out a relieved gust of air. “Okay. Okay. S’ nothing to do with you, I just… whole concept creeps me out, honestly.”

Aziraphale smiled at him again, this time fondly. “That’s a bit funny. Aren’t demons supposed to influence lust or something?”

“Oy, I don’t have a problem with lust. I just want it to keep the fuck away from me.”

“Fortunately, I am not lusting over you,” Aziraphale said in such an innocent tone that Crawley sputtered. “Although given that you found that concept so distressing, I wonder… how do you feel about physical contact in general? Would you like it?”

“I… don’t know.” It wasn’t really in Crawley’s nature to admit to not knowing things. Demons were supposed to win. But it looked like he wasn’t winning at being an adversary. Friend. Partner. Whatever they were. “Look, just tell me what it is. We’ll find a way to make it a win.”

“It’s not about whether one wins or loses,” Aziraphale admonished gently.

“Whatever. Tell me.”

Aziraphale bit his lip. “Well, seeing the humans together… makes me lonely.”

That definitely had to be related to the physical contact thingy. Crawley and Aziraphale hadn’t gone more than a week without seeing each other since they met. Couldn’t miss their draughts appointment.

And right now, they were actually living together. Ate almost all their meals together. Even slept in the same bed sometimes, albeit with distance between them. “Because we don’t… touch?”

“I suppose.” Aziraphale clutched his hands together, as if that would take care of the problem. “I know it’s silly. I really am quite happy, most of the time. It’s just, sometimes, I get so…”

His voice hitched, and he made a sad little whine. And then, to Crawley’s utter horror, tears rolled down the soft cheeks.

“Oh no. Shit. No.” Crawley looked around wildly for rescue, but there was no one around other than him and the ducks.

He shoved up onto his knees, grabbed a duck out of the river, and plopped it on Aziraphale’s lap.

“Oh!” Aziraphale caught the duck, holding it gently. It quacked up at him. “Hello, little duck. Aren’t you precious?”

And then Aziraphale started to cry harder.

“Shitshitshit, don’t do that!” Crawley considered throwing another duck into his arms, but if one duck hadn’t worked, there was no reason to think that more ducks would do the trick. “Shit. Aziraphale? Come on, don’t cry, just…”

He looked around wildly one more time, then moved closer. Close enough that their arms touched. A shiver went through him at the contact. Maybe he really was averse to all touch.

But Aziraphale was still crying, little broken sobs as he held onto the duck. Crawley took the duck, which looked really offended at the whole situation, and set it back on the sand.

Then, with no idea what he was doing, he pulled Aziraphale into a hug. He wrapped his arms around the soft angel, pulled him close, patted his back. “Okay. Okay. You’re okay.”

“Oh, Crawley.” Aziraphale hugged him back, arms tight around his waist. Crawley flinched and barely suppressed the urge to scramble away. “I’m s-sorry, I didn’t mean to get all silly and emotional, I was just so sad…”

“Okay. Okay.” Gosh, he needed to find something else to say. He patted Aziraphale’s back again. “You don’t have to do that. Be sorry, I mean. It’s okay to… cry.”

Was it okay to cry? It was the sort of thing that would get you mocked and endlessly roughed up in Hell. And from what he remembered of Heaven, crying was the sort of thing that would get you endlessly judged and criticized there.

Whatever. They weren’t in Heaven or Hell. And people cried on Earth all the time.

“Er. Yeah. Right.” Still lost, Crawley hugged Aziraphale a little tighter. “Look, it’s okay. I’ll hug you all you like, if that’s what you need.”

Aziraphale sniffled. “Really? You will?”

“Yeah. Yeah. If you need. We’re…” Crawley hesitated. Saying he was friends with an angel was the sort of thing that could earn him an eternity in the fieriest fires of Hell. “We’re… something. I dunno what we are. But we’re…”

He cut off, hopeless. There was no good way of describing this.

“We’re in this together?” Aziraphale asked hopefully. “Partners?”

“Great. Sure. If you like.” Crawley braced, half expecting the sand to open up underneath him. It’d be a long fall, to Hell, and then a longer time in the pit…

But instead of him getting sucked down to Hell, something worse happened.

Aziraphale started to cry again, even harder.

“Oh, bless it! Aziraphale, why are you…” Desperate, Crawley curled a hand around the back of his head and held him even closer. He stroked the soft white hair, his hand shaking with the last-ditch effort. “Nonono, come on, stop crying. Stop crying. Look, whatever I said, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t… upset me.” Aziraphale sobbed into his neck.

“Of course I upset you. You’re bloody sobbing. S’ not the sort of thing happy people do.”

“Yes… it is.” Aziraphale pulled back and grabbed Crawley’s hands. Crawley stared at his blotchy, tear-stained face in horror, still totally lost. “People cry all the time when they’re happy. You just don’t pay close enough attention to them to notice, because you assume they’re always up to something awful.”

“They usually are,” Crawley pointed out. “I mean, I guess I have seen ‘em cry with happiness after killing someone they find annoying…”

“Oh, you’re so awful.” Aziraphale beamed at him, tears still falling. “I really do just adore you, you know.”

“Hrngk.” Crawley gulped. That was definitely not something he could reply to. It wasn’t safe.

“You don’t have to reply to that.” Aziraphale squeezed his hands. “It’s all right, you know. I understand why you can’t say certain things.”

Crawley should have said something really sarcastic. Instead, he just gulped again. “Yeah?”

“Yes. And it’s all right.” Slowly, Aziraphale moved one hand to Crawley’s cheek. “I want you to be happy too, you know. And you shan’t be happy if you’re panicking over attempts to say kind things.”

“I’m a demon. I’m never happy,” Crawley lied.

“Mhm.”

As soon as Crawley got his hand back, he miracled up a jug of wine and two cups. He poured, relieved, and passed one to Aziraphale. “Here’s to… being in this together.”

Aziraphale beamed again and clinked his cup against Crawley’s. “To being in this together.”

They drank in silence for a few minutes. Crawley resisted the urge to move further away, staying close enough that his shoulder pressed to Aziraphale’s as they watched the ducks. His immediate panic was fading, at least, and he no longer had the urge to flee.

Aziraphale looked better too, or at least calmer. Smiling again, a pleased smile as he leaned against Crawley.

“Does that really help?” Crawley finally asked. “Touch? It really helps you?”

“Mhm. It really does.” Swinging his feet back into the river, Aziraphale gave him a shy look. “It doesn’t need to be all that often. But if you really meant what you said, about hugs…”

“I meant it,” Crawley interrupted. “Consider it part of our little Arrangement. If you need it.”

Aziraphale took his hand again and squeezed gently. Just for a moment, then he let go. “Thank you, Crawley. I shall never forget this.”

“Oh, believe me, I know. You’re already always on me about when it’s time for a game of draughts.” Crawley grinned. “Soon it’ll be weekly hugs, eh?”

Aziraphale pouted at him. “Oh. I was hoping for more often than that. Rather more often. I might get sad again with fewer…”

“You bastard.” Defeated but not minding, Crawley poured another round of drinks. “Daily hugs it is, then.”

Crawley wasn’t totally sure that was a terrific idea, given how much his temper tended to go off when he got overwhelmed. But as long as it was only once per day, he could handle hugging. Probably.

Chapter Text

In all his time on Earth, Aziraphale had never been this happy. Oh, he was happy all the time, or at least nearly all the time. He was an angel, after all. He had no choice but to be happy.

It had been awfully hard, though, to see how delighted humans were with each other’s physical presence. Not merely the couples, but family and friends too. They all touched so much, and it seemed to be very good for them.

Until recently, no one had touched Aziraphale very much. Primarily, he petted animals, which was quite nice. Egypt especially had a plethora of cats, and they were very soothing.

There was one on his lap right now, as a matter of fact, and he petted it idly as he gazed across the courtyard of the house that he and Crawley shared. Most people had rather a lot of animals in their courtyard. He and Crawley didn’t, other than the occasional ones that wandered in.

“I really do need to get up, you know,” Aziraphale said to the cat. “Crawley will be awake soon, and I want to finish my baking.”

The cat meowed at him, then rose obligingly and went off to chase some flies. Aziraphale watched for a moment, smiling. Oh, being on Earth was so incredible. Wonders around every corner.

He peeled the small cakes of date bread off the outside of the clay oven and dropped them into a big bowl. Then he took out the bigger loaf, which didn’t have dates and would be ideal for dinner.

This sort of thing was so nice, too. The sun beamed down as he finished his baking, and he took a brief moment to savor the warmth of it. It would be awfully hot later, uncomfortably so, but right now it was perfect.

Whistling, he went back into the house. They didn’t have too much fancy furniture even though Crawley owned quite a successful tavern. They had gotten rather used to sparse surroundings, traveling as often as they did for assignments.

Despite the heat, Aziraphale was very much enjoying Egypt. There was plenty of work as a scribe, and he’d developed a job on the side. Egypt had a long history, and it was quite easy to authenticate items from earlier periods. He’d been around for those periods, after all, and it was a nice bit of added income.

He poured two cups of beer and set them on a table beside the cushioned couch that he and Crawley usually shared for meals. Then he set out the date cakes, along with honey, and a dish he’d prepared earlier with grapes and cheese.

It was something of an elaborate breakfast, especially given that Crawley wasn’t always very hungry. But Aziraphale simply couldn’t resist. He enjoyed taking care of his best friend too much to resist.

“Why is it always so stupidly bright on this stupid planet?” Crawley stomped out of the bedroom, scowling. “Woke up today to light blasting right in my face. It’s ridiculous.”

“Sun is a good thing, Crawley!”

“No. No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is.” Aziraphale beamed at him and earned a deeply unimpressed look. “Good morning. Here, sit down and have some breakfast.”

Crawley shook his head. “Nah, I’ve gotta see about that ‘imported’ wine. I think it’s actually local wine, and not the good stuff.”

“Really? Are you certain?”

“More or less. I love humans. They’re so greedy.” An amused smile replaced the usual glare. “Well, I’ll be off.”

Aziraphale gestured to the table. “But you need to eat! Breakfast is the most important meal of the day!”

“Wot? We don’t even need to eat, technically. We’re immortal.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale dropped his gaze to the floor and gave his saddest sigh. “I suppose that’s true. It’s just that, um, I made breakfast for you, and I hoped you’d eat it, and I haven’t had my morning hug yet…”

“Oh, don’t give me that look.” Crawley sighed too, a sigh of total defeat, and slunk over to the couch. He opened his arms. “C’mere. Morning hug is it.”

Pleased, Aziraphale wrapped his arms around Crawley and hugged him tight. “And breakfast?”

“And breakfast.” Crawley hugged him back, a little bit less enthusiastically. It still felt lovely, and the usual tingling contentment flooded through Aziraphale. Oh, he could happily spend all day in Crawley’s arms.

They sat on the dining couch together, and Aziraphale curled up against Crawley’s side. Crawley gave him an unimpressed look, but didn’t pull away.

“I just made these this morning,” Aziraphale said proudly, passing Crawley a date cake. “It’s such fun. You ought to help me make them sometime.”

Crawley hissed. “Too early in the morning. This is the earliest I can do.”

“We could make them in the afternoon.”

“I’ve got a tavern to run.”

“You hardly do anything at the tavern,” Aziraphale said, giving him a wounded look. “It’s a rather terrible excuse not to spend time with me.”

“Don’t give me that, you bastard.” But Crawley smiled, just a little. “Okay. Okay. We’ll do it soon, angel. But I really do need to go cause some chaos after we eat.”

“That’s quite all right.” Content, Aziraphale snuggled closer to him and tore off a piece of a date cake. “Causing chaos makes you happy. And if you’re happy, I’m happy.”

---

By the time Crawley escaped into the courtyard, he was on the verge of an explosion. A cat wandered over, as if intent on rubbing against his leg.

He hissed at it. It hissed back, then stalked off into the house.

Good. Aziraphale could cuddle that for a while instead of him.

Guilt tugged at Crawley’s gut, and he kicked a rock into the courtyard wall. This was ridiculous. He was a demon. Demon shouldn’t feel guilty for being annoyed at a stupidly sunshiny angel wanting to constantly be in physical contact.

“Of course, a demon shouldn’t be allowing himself to snuggle in the first damn place.” The thought of it made him shudder. What was he doing, letting Aziraphale get away with this?

It had only been a daily hug for the first week or two. That was fine. Crawley didn’t need touch, not the way Aziraphale did, but it hadn’t bothered him.

“Couldn’t stop there. Oh, no. It had to turn into morning hugs and night hugs.” He kicked the gate open and stormed down the sandy road that led deeper into town. “And constant cuddling and petting, like I’m a bloody lap cat…”

A human on the road looked at him strangely. Crawley flicked a light miracle towards them, and there was a yelp as the jug of water they’d been carrying cracked.

It should have cheered Crawley up. Or if that didn’t do it, one of his other acts of chaos should. Letting goats out of a pen, knocking over a stack of baskets, cutting a tiny hole in a fishing net. The humans would all find ways of blaming each other for the inconveniences, start all sorts of fights, and generally be awful to each other.

He watched as the humans rounded up the goats. Two of the young men got in an argument over which one had left the pen open. One of them punched the other, and Crawley smiled as the goats escaped again during the ensuing brawl.

“Humans. Gotta love ‘em.” Shaking his head, he set off for the tavern.

Even that bit of chaos hadn’t cheered him up as much as it should have. Because no matter how much a demon shouldn’t feel guilty for being annoyed at all the affection…

Crawley still felt guilty. And not even just because if he snarled at Aziraphale over all the hugs and cuddling, Aziraphale would give him those big sad eyes. No, this was something else. Something worse.

He cared. He wanted Aziraphale to be happy. And that made him officially the worst demon ever.

Crawley’s mood didn’t improve at all over the course of the day. He caused some more chaos, generally wreaked havoc, made everyone as miserable as he could. But nothing he could do actually made the humans as miserable as they made each other.

“Should be happy with that,” he said to himself as he sorted through jugs of wine, looking for the good stuff. He needed the good stuff. “Should be happy with all of this, and shouldn’t be scared of a damn hug. Bloody ridiculous. What sort of a demon are you?”

He poured a drink, downed it, and poured another one. Then another. Then another.

“Okay. Okay. Options are… Option one, tell Aziraphale to fuck off. Aziraphale gets sad. I feel guilty.” He took another drink. “Option two, I toughen up and stop being an oversensitive idiot. Aziraphale stays happy, I don’t feel guilty.”

He considered it. He took another drink and sighed.

It had to be option two. As undemonic as it was, he was gonna have to get used to cuddling.

Once he got bored of being in the tavern, he went out and caused more chaos to make up for it. Temptations, framing people for things they hadn’t done, buying extra rounds of drinks. Every bit of evil counted.

“Crawley!”

Crawley automatically smiled at the cheery voice, then corrected his expression into something more like a glare. “Aziraphale. Out influencing everyone to be good and kind?”

“Oh, I did some of that this morning.” Aziraphale waved a hand carelessly. “Actually, I was out planning to buy some nice fish to cook up for our dinner, but my usual fish merchant didn’t have anything because it seems a net broke today, and his men got into an awful brawl over whose fault it was, and then they all fell in the river.”

“Did they?” Crawley asked, perking up. “Terrific. I love humans. They’re so predictable.”

“You’re an awful old serpent.” Aziraphale gave him a fond smile.

“Yup. Awful, that’s me.” Crawley drew himself up, proud. “Mind, the humans give me a run for my money sometimes. Amazed they got into a brawl over something like that.”

“Well, I’m sure it was a matter of honor. Humans do seem to think honor is very important.”

“They think having a punching bag for their problems is important, that’s what they think.” Crawley jerked his chin towards the covered basket tucked under Aziraphale’s arm. “So. If that’s not fish, what is it?”

“Oh, it’s mutton! I thought that would go nicely with all the veggies I harvested from the garden.” Aziraphale held it out. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance you’d carry it home for me? I still need to purchase some honey, and more cheese, and some more grapes. You know, we really ought to get some grapevines of our own.”

The idea of that—especially if they could make their own wine that way—was kind of tempting. Crawley took the basket. “Aziraphale. My angel. That’s not home. You and I have jobs that take us all over the bloody planet. We don’t have a home.”

“Well, it’s our home for now!” Aziraphale beamed at him and rested a hand on his back as they walked. Crawley tried really, really hard not to get irritated by the contact.

He failed. This was ridiculous. Aziraphale wanting to be in contact all the time was ridiculous, but not as ridiculous as his own inability to handle it. There was no reason that it should make his chest tight, set his teeth on edge, make his whole body feel like it was being lightly sanded. It should be fine.

As soon as they got back to the house, Crawley evaded further touching so he could pour wine. Gosh, he needed another drink. It might take the edge off, help him loosen up.

“Would you like to help me make dinner?” Aziraphale asked hopefully. He was already chopping up the mutton into little pieces. “I thought I’d make a nice stew. I-I was planning on fish stew, mind, but someone sabotaged that plan.”

The teasing helped more than the wine, and Crawley grinned. “Right. Right. You want me to chop onions?”

“Please. They are so pretty, aren’t they?”

Crawley gave Aziraphale an incredulous look instead of an answer. Only someone as weird as Aziraphale would think that onions were pretty.

He did have to admit they were kind of cool, even if cooking got tedious fast. Aziraphale really enjoyed it, though. And although Crawley loathed himself for caring, he did like to see Aziraphale happy.

Which was why, once he and Aziraphale had the stew cooking over a fire, he didn’t protest more than a few halfhearted grumbles when Aziraphale took his hand and leaned against him. He really did like seeing Aziraphale happy, as humiliating as that was.

But that grudging appreciation for Aziraphale’s happiness couldn’t stop the irritation that rose after a couple minutes of physical contact. Daily hugs had been doable. This amount of touch really, really wasn’t.

Chapter Text

Crawley did not want to be awake anymore. Not even slightly. He was absolutely ready to crash out for a good, solid night’s sleep, one in which absolutely no one touched him or came anywhere near his space.

There was a problem with that, though. If Aziraphale decided to sleep too, there would definitely be contact. And even if he didn’t, Crawley knew too damn well that there was a price to pay for trying to go to bed.

This was ridiculous. Was he really letting himself get this stressed out over something so minor? He really was an absolute idiot, that’s what he was. Freaking out like this was a million times worse than any of the stupid things Aziraphale did.

Especially because this was just a matter of pure weakness. Demons were supposed to be tough, to not let anything bother them. Actually, demons were supposed to be all for physical contact. Lust and everything, very popular.

So why was it that Crawley’s chest tightened over even the thought of something as innocuous as another hug? Pathetic. Completely pathetic.

He finally forced himself to move, shifting forward on the couch to grab the jug of wine and pour himself more. He was comfortably full from Aziraphale’s mutton stew or whatever. Should have been relaxed, not on the verge of a bloody panic attack.

“Oh, could you top off my drink as well?” Aziraphale asked, holding out his cup. Crawley wordlessly topped it off. “Thank you, dear fellow. It’s very good, isn’t it?”

“Could be better. But at least it’s strong.” A little desperate, Crawley downed the whole cup in a few quick gulps. “Okay. Okay. I’m off to bed.”

“Already?”

“It’s late.” It actually wasn’t that late, especially for a demon, but he was gonna scream if Aziraphale tried to cuddle him again. And screaming just wasn’t dignified. “See you tomorrow. Be good.”

Crawley shoved to his feet, intending to flee, but Aziraphale rose too. He smiled broadly, opening his arms. “It’s time for a goodnight hug!”

“We already had one,” Crawley lied.

“No, we most certainly did not! I would remember.”

Jaw clenched, Crawley stared at him. At the bright, hopeful expression, the big eyes that always made him fold. He had never been good at saying no to Aziraphale.

Normally, that only irritated him. Mostly, he got irritated with himself for caring so much about someone when he should be so much more self centered.

Today, it set off something else. A smoldering anger in his chest, one that threatened to turn into an inferno. This was stupid. He should just tell Aziraphale to bugger off, then walk away.

Instead, he stepped closer and hugged Aziraphale. He kept the contact as brief as possible this time, patting Aziraphale on the back before letting go. “Right. Okay. Bye.”

Aziraphale didn’t let go. He squeezed Crawley tight once more, then finally loosened his grip. “Is there anything in particular you’d like for breakfast tomorrow, Crawley? Maybe we could try a picnic by the Nile. We could feed ducks again.”

“Sure,” Crawley agreed without even thinking about it. He extricated himself from Aziraphale’s hold and moved as far away as he could without hitting a wall. “See you then.”

But Aziraphale followed him. “You know, I was thinking of joining you in bed tonight. I think that would be very nice.”

“No, it wouldn’t,” Crawley snapped.

“Of course it would! We could snuggle, and—”

“No!” The inferno erupted. Crawley rounded on Aziraphale, hissing. “I don’t want you in my space. You’re in it so much already that I don’t even think I have my own space now. It’s all taken up by stupid hugs.”

“Oh. Oh dear.” Aziraphale gave him a startled look. “Um. But you haven’t protested, not really, and… I thought you liked the hugs now.”

“You thought wrong. Very bloody wrong. I’m done with hugs.” Crawley tried to head down the hall, and Aziraphale stepped in front of him, blocking his path. “Get out of my way.”

“But I’m so confused!”

“That’s a normal state for you, isn’t it?”

“Well… admittedly, yes,” Aziraphale said, twisting his hands together. He was still blocking the route to the bedroom. “But not about you! I thought you and I had an understanding.”

“Had an understanding, emphasis on the past tense.” Crawley was shaking now, and that was a bad sign. Even Aziraphale’s big sad eyes weren’t enough to slow the explosion currently building up. At this rate, he was gonna say something he would really regret. “And that was fine. A hug a day? I could do that. This? No.”

“This?” Aziraphale asked, still sounding confused.

“This! The whole… constant hugging! Snuggling! Touching! I can’t do it. I don’t wanna do it.” Clenching his jaw hard, Crawley tried to shoulder past Aziraphale towards the bedroom. Aziraphale didn’t budge, still just giving him big sad eyes. “Okay. Okay. You know what. That’s it.”

He whirled around and stormed off in the opposite direction. He had to get out of here. If he didn’t get out of here, he was gonna really blow up.

“But… But…” Aziraphale jogged up beside him, trying to catch his arm. “Crawley, slow down! Please, we can work this out.”

“No. I’m leaving.” Pressure slammed into his chest at the first brush of Aziraphale’s fingers against his arm, and he jerked away with a snarl. “And don’t you dare follow me, Aziraphale. Personal space is a thing again starting now, bless it.”

Crawley kicked the door open and stormed out of the house. He had to get out of here right now. Had to get far enough away to be able to breathe, to calm down. To feel like himself again.

“Crawley!” Aziraphale called, voice full of anguish. “Crawley, please don’t go!”

That made Crawley’s heart wrench, but he didn’t turn back. He couldn’t. Breathless, he stumbled off into the darkness, where no one would come near him.

---

A sob burst from Aziraphale, and he clutched his hands together. His head spun, and his legs wobbled. What had he done? How could he have miscalculated so badly? How could he have been such a fool?

He tried to think, to make sense of it all. To analyze all the times he’d missed Crawley’s discomfort. But as soon as he tried in earnest, everything went quite blank.

Queasy, he sank down to the sand and leaned against the house. His heart pounded, thudding in his ears. Each breath came faster than the last, racing out of control.

He knew perfectly well that Crawley caved to his requests with the slightest pleading look. It had always been part of the little game they played. Crawley protested, Aziraphale pleaded, and they went on.

This time, it apparently hadn’t just been a game. It had become something much more serious, and Aziraphale had entirely failed to notice.

Even as scrambled as his thoughts were right now, he could see some of the warning signs he’d entirely missed. Moments when Crawley seemed genuinely uncomfortable, times when he’d tensed up at the slightest touch.

But he was always so tense to start with, and so adversarial about affection even when he did want it. Why hadn’t he just said something?

Aziraphale covered his eyes with one hand, tears leaking out. He could feel Crawley’s agitation even from here, a thunderstorm on his mental map of the world. He had always been able to tell when Crawley was in distress.

So how hadn’t he noticed that he was the one distressing Crawley? Had he just been that absorbed in his own happiness?

Or perhaps it was something else. Perhaps Crawley’s eternal low-level storminess had simply clouded out the new discomfort. No pun intended.

This particular cloud did not seem to have much of a silver lining, although Aziraphale desperately searched for one. It was awfully important to be happy, to stay positive.

Right now, he was finding it very difficult to stay positive, and he certainly wasn’t happy. He wiped away more tears, his hand shaking. Oh Lord, he felt sick. What if he’d ruined everything by being so pushy? By constantly putting Crawley on the spot?

Even more alarmingly, he had no idea what to do now. Crawley had said not to follow him. He ought to respect that, since he hadn’t respected Crawley’s space until now.

But oh, how Aziraphale wanted to be with someone. The cat wasn’t even around right now, which was a terrible shame. Aziraphale would very much like to pet a cat right now. Or a goat. Or a duck.

Even in his current state right now, he couldn’t help a little smile of fondness as he thought of Crawley putting a duck in his lap in an attempt to comfort him. Crawley did love him, no matter what he might say or what had happened. In time, he would come home, and then everything would be okay.

But as the night wore on, Crawley didn’t come home. Aziraphale listened for any sound of footsteps on the sandy path. No footsteps came.

Finally, as the first light glowed in the east, Aziraphale rose. He dried the most recent tears, took a deep breath, and squared his shoulders. Then, determined, he went in search of his best friend.

He could sense Crawley’s presence, as usual. It didn’t feel as distressed now, more like the ordinary storms that lurked around him. Aziraphale gathered his hopes as he followed the familiar path that he and Crawley so often took down to the banks of the Nile.

On the way, he attempted to think of how he could possibly explain himself. He came up rather empty. Anything he thought of seemed awfully selfish, or perhaps an attempt to shift blame.

He very much did not want to shift blame, or even to appear that he was doing so. Crawley was awfully prickly and defensive even at the best of times. If he thought Aziraphale was attempting to put all of this on him, he would only become more adversarial.

Aziraphale hesitated, then gestured. A basket appeared in his hands, full of the goodies he needed. There. Now his appearance would seem much more reasonable.

He bustled down the path, keeping his spirits up as best he could. As long as he had joy in his heart, everything would be fine.

A familiar figure sat by the Nile, staring glumly into its depths. Despite the glumness, Aziraphale’s worries eased at the sight. He always felt better when he was with his friend.

“Hello, Crawley,” he called as he approached. “Good morning.”

Crawley turned around. Even with the sunglasses, his glare was obvious. “Thought I told you not to follow me.”

“I’m not following you,” Aziraphale said innocently as he sat down near Crawley. “I came to feed the ducks.”

“Right. Right. So, you think I’m a complete idiot, eh?”

Aziraphale got out his jar of grain, trying to ignore that his hands were shaking. “Well—”

“I mean. You’re right. I am an idiot, complete bloody idiot.” Snarling, Crawley kicked sand into the river. “I should have just told you to bugger off.”

“Oh. Um.” Aziraphale held out a date cake. “Would you like a date cake?”

“I’m a demon. I don’t do affection,” Crawley said in a tone as if he was trying to convince himself. He didn’t take the date cake. “I was just trying to seduce you. That’s the truth.”

“No, it’s not. And trying to convince me of such a thing is really, well. It’s really stupid.” Rolling his eyes, Aziraphale set the date cake on a plate. He slid closer and put the plate in Crawley’s lap. “You do recall that you thoroughly panicked when you thought I was propositioning you? You were very overdramatic. Granted, you’re often quite overdramatic…”

“And you’re a bastard.” Crawley smiled, just a little. He broke off a piece of the date cake and ate it. “Look, why I did it doesn’t matter.”

“It?”

“Letting you drape yourself all over me like I’m… I’m…” Crawley stared at the date cake. “Like something you drape yourself on.”

“Ah,” Aziraphale said, unsure what else to say.

“Look. Point is, I was an idiot. I don’t like that. Or at least, not that much of that. It makes me…”

Crawley trailed off, grinding his teeth. Aziraphale waited patiently.

A few minutes passed. Ducks sailed past them, downriver. Aziraphale ate a date cake, and then some cheese.

“Well?” he finally promoted. “Really, Crawley. If we are partners, then you ought to be able to just talk to me. To communicate.

“But. I’m a demon. I don’t do… communication.” Crawley spat the word as if it were a curse. “I win. That’s what I do. That’s what matters.”

Aziraphale blinked at him, then poured two cups of wine. He set one down in the sand beside Crawley’s hand. “Well, why don’t you try winning at communication? I’m quite sure you’ll be able to beat me. I certainly haven’t excelled at it of late.”

At that, Crawley brightened. “Of course I’ll beat you. I always beat you.”

“I’m sure you will,” Aziraphale said soothingly, amused despite the situation. If Crawley needed their problem framed in such a manner, so be in. In this as in their draughts games, Aziraphale was content to let him win.

Chapter Text

As he ate and drank, Crawley tried to think through what to say. Honestly, he’d done a lot of thinking already through the night. And a lot of talking out loud, which made the ducks look at him weird.

He hadn’t actually figured out much. Except that his plan of just toughening up hadn’t gone, well… Hadn’t gone according to plan.

And, for that matter, he was sure that just toughening up wasn’t how to win at being a good partner. Granted, he was a demon, and he had no idea what being a good partner actually entailed. But being constantly angry at Aziraphale’s affection was a bad way to go.

Which meant, as much as he hated it, that he really did have to try to win at communication. He just had no idea where to start.

He was still trying to come up with something to say when Aziraphale spoke again. “Look, I hope you know that I’m sorry, Crawley. I didn’t realize how uncomfortable I was making you. And well, I don’t know how to discuss this, really…”

“Let’s just do it.” Crawley downed the rest of his drink, then pivoted to face Aziraphale. “Okay. Okay. So, you need touch to be happy.”

“Y-yes.” Aziraphale swallowed hard. “But I can’t be happy if you’re not happy. As happy as a demon can be, anyway.”

“That’s not the point. We’re starting with you.” Crossing his arms, Crawley studied Aziraphale’s expression. Big sad eyes, but different from the usual expression. This wasn’t meant to guilt him into anything, it was genuine worry. “And that’s just a fact. You need touch.”

“It’s also a fact that you don’t need touch. Do you…” Aziraphale hesitated, glancing off towards the ducks. “Do you like it at all? If it’s too miserable for you, perhaps I could get enough affection from petting animals.”

“It’s not all completely torturous.”

“That’s not a very ringing endorsement.”

“Ngh.” It wasn’t, was it? He wasn’t sure he could ring more than that, though. This was all so stupid. Why did he care so much whether this angel was happy? “Look, I don’t hate it all. It’s fine as long as it’s not all the time. I didn’t mind early on.”

Even just admitting that made him twitchy. He was a demon, bless it. He should be out wreaking havoc, not trying to reassure an angel. But there wasn’t any convenient havoc to wreak around here, other than kicking more sand in the river.

He did that while Aziraphale frowned contemplatively at a cup of wine. Finally, Aziraphale sighed. “Well, you initially proposed weekly hugs. If that’s the most you can comfortably do, I suppose that would be enough for me.”

“Nnnh. Somehow, I doubt that.” How much could Crawley actually handle? He contemplated it, tried to remember when he’d started getting really overwhelmed. “I was fine with daily. No problems there. And that is what I actually agreed to, if you remember.”

Aziraphale winced. “Um. Yes, I remember.”

“And then you started asking for more, and giving me those big sad eyes…”

“I-I’m afraid I did.” Aziraphale topped off both of their drinks. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Crawley.”

“I wasn’t hurt,” Crawley snapped. “Demons can’t get hurt. Invulnerable, me. Count on it.”

Aziraphale gave him a baffled look before continuing as if he hadn’t spoken. “It just felt so, so good to be touched. And I liked being closer to you. I. Um. I assumed that all your snappiness was just your ordinary bad temper.”

Crawley brightened a little, cheered up. “I’m ordinarily bad tempered?”

“Yes, very much so. It’s very demonic,” Aziraphale said in a soothing tone.

“‘Course it is. You know me. I don’t do gentleness.” As he drank, he considered the problem, and finally nodded. “Okay. Okay. How about one daily hug, and one other form of affection per day?”

Aziraphale’s lips twitched into a smile. Then he cleared his throat and put on a very serious expression. “What sort of other forms of affection?”

“I don’t know! I’m not the clingy one.”

“Hand holding?”

“If you like.”

“Snuggling?”

Crawley contemplated that more. “Yeah. Yeah. But not for hours. If I get tired of being touched, I reserve the right to shove you out of bed and tell you to bugger off.”

“More than fair,” Aziraphale said magnanimously. “What if I decide that for my additional affection, I’d like a second hug? A good night hug, for example?”

Shrugging, Crawley grabbed grapes from the basket. “Sure. As long as you don’t try to guilt me into snuggling too.”

“No more guilt, at least on that score. I shall put it in the contract.”

Crawley stared at him. “The what.”

“The contract!” Aziraphale gestured, and his scribal kit appeared in the sand beside him. He tightened his white linen skirt over his crossed legs, then set a sheet of papyrus in his lap. Delicately, he moistened his ink and dipped a pen into it.

“You’re writing a…” Crawley kept staring at him. The pen flew across the papyrus. “You’re writing a hugging contract?”

“Mhm.” Aziraphale dipped his pen again. “This is my job, after all. I spend most of my day working on contracts for humans.”

“I spend most of my day getting the buggers drunk.”

“And you do a very good job of it, too.”

“Writing a contract for hugs is a stupid idea.”

“It’s better than your total lack of ideas thus far.” Pausing, Aziraphale looked at him. “Um. Is there any chance I could coax you into a clause that allows me to purchase extra hugs?”

“Purchase?” Amused, Crawley glanced around at their surroundings. Sand, papyrus stalks, flowing water, lots of ducks. Probably a crocodile or two hidden somewhere nearby. “What the deuce would I spend money on? The humans don’t make anything worth buying.”

“Well, what about a chariot?” Aziraphale suggested. “You’ve always wanted a chariot.”

“Yeah, and you bloody said I can’t get one because you were scared I’d wreck it and discorporate.”

“Oh. I suppose I did.” Frowning, Aziraphale studied his contract so far. “Well, what if I added a clause where you promised not to drive too quickly and risk discorporation? If you discorporated, you’d be breaking the terms of the agreement.”

“I would?”

“You can’t hug me if you don’t have a body.”

“Oh.” Crawley considered it, then nodded. “Fine. But chariots and possible discorporation aside, we need to make a provision for hugless days.”

Aziraphale’s expression fell. “For when you don’t want to hug me at all?”

“No!” As much as Crawley protested, the one hug per day was actually pretty nice. He’d almost started enjoying it, up until the amount of touch got overwhelming. “Aziraphale, my angel. You know we don’t always travel together, right? Sometimes, we have jobs in different places.”

“Oh. Oh dear. Um. I hadn’t thought of that.” Still looking entirely dejected, Aziraphale stared at the contract. “Well, I suppose I can put in an amendment that says times when we’re out of physical range of each other are exempt from the daily requirements.”

“Very clever,” Crawley said as sarcastically as possible. “Your feats of intellect never fail to astound me.”

Aziraphale beamed at him. “Thank you!”

Crawley rolled his eyes. “Anyway. Look on the bright side, since that’s your thing.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’ll never go longer than a week without a hug. Can’t miss draughts.”

“Oh! That’s a very good point. Thank you, my dear.” Aziraphale beamed even more brightly, as brilliant as the sun starting to peek over the horizon. “You see? Isn’t it nice to look on the bright side?”

“No.”

---

As far as Aziraphale was concerned, life had gotten quite beautifully bright. Putting a contract together was rather soothing, really, and very normal. After the night of distress, he very much enjoyed doing something that he did nearly every day.

And while he would have rather liked to cuddle with Crawley on the banks of the Nile, he was content with this. Just being near Crawley had always made him happy, even when they hadn’t touched virtually at all.

This contract ought to help them both a lot. They’d been very happily bickering over it for nearly an hour now, making small adjustments and arguing over clauses and making lists of amendments as the sun rose.

At this point, it laid out expectations very nicely. And not only that, it was very flexible. There were even exceptions now for days when Crawley didn’t want to be touched, and ways for Aziraphale to compensate Crawley for additional contact if he truly felt the need for it.

And, even better, they could amend the contract as many times as needed! It really was perfect.

“Here we are,” Aziraphale said, holding out the contract. “Would you like to sign it?”

“Oh no, my dear Aziraphale,” Crawley said sweetly. “You first.”

Aziraphale blinked at him. “We’re both going to sign it.”

“Yes, and you’re going to sign it first.”

This was very much just Crawley being Crawley and needing some extra degree of control over the situation. After rolling his eyes, Aziraphale signed the contract first. Then he handed it over.

He’d expected Crawley just to sign, given the amount of time they’d spent working out the details. But instead, Crawley carefully read the entire thing, glaring at it as if it was an annoying human that he needed to browbeat into submission.

Finally, Crawley grunted and stuck his hand out. “Okay. Okay. Give me the blessed pen.”

Aziraphale handed him the pen. After a deep breath, Crawley signed the contract with a dramatic flourish. He shoved it back at Aziraphale, lips pursed.

“Ah.” Aziraphale took it and carefully checked to be sure that Crawley hadn’t done anything that would invalidate his signature. For once, it seemed he had behaved himself. “Well, there we are! I think that ought to take care of things quite nicely.”

“How soon can we add amendments?” Crawley asked innocently.

Aziraphale glared at him. “A month.”

“Is there a clause specifying the trial period?”

“Yes. And you’ve just read the entire contract, so you’re quite aware of that,” Aziraphale said fondly. “You are just awful, aren’t you?”

“Yes. That’s me. Awful.” Crawley looked awfully proud of himself for it. “So. What do we do now?”

Aziraphale hadn’t actually thought about anything beyond this contract. He rather suspected they would have an awful lot of fun adjusting it, once the month-long trial period was up. “Well, I do believe I’m owed a daily hug.”

“Wasn’t our last hug after midnight?”

“It most certainly was not!”

Crawley grinned. “Can’t blame a demon for trying, eh?”

“I very much can. But I don’t mind.” Aziraphale gazed at him for a moment, pleased. It felt very nice to have things sorted out, at least for the moment. “Shall we have our hug here, and then perhaps feed the ducks a bit more?”

“Yeah. Sounds like a plan.” Still grinning, Crawley moved closer and opened his arms. “Come here, angel. A deal’s a deal.”

Aziraphale went to him at once, this time more carefully. He’d expected Crawley to attempt to minimize contact, to draw away quickly.

But Crawley hugged him close, rubbing his back, and Aziraphale sank into the embrace. A few tears stung his eyes at the comfort of being in his partner’s arms. And even more than that, the comfort of knowing that Crawley was giving him a much longer hug than was actually required by the contract.

Finally, Crawley tensed a little, and Aziraphale let go at once. He beamed at Crawley, still teary. “Thank you. You really are kind, you know.”

“No, I’m not.” Hissing, Crawley snatched the rest of Aziraphale’s date cake and ate it. Aziraphale watched the minor act of chaos, deeply amused. “Bugger off.”

“I shall not.” Aziraphale patted Crawley’s arm, then pulled his hand back. “Oh. Oh dear. Should I avoid doing that sort of thing?”

“We didn’t put casual touch in the contract, did we?” Crawley asked. Aziraphale shook his head. “Nah. Don’t worry about it. If I decide you’re getting too handsy, I can always make an amendment when the trial period’s up.”

“Well, all right.” Aziraphale chuckled and got out the pot of grain and veggies. Together, he and Crawley settled in to feed the ducks again.

Chapter Text

Londinium, 140 AD

Aziraphale awoke and immediately shivered. Even under the furs, it was awfully chilly. His face was exposed, after all, and this area did have dreadful weather.

His left side was surprisingly warm, though. He glanced over, half expecting to see a big dog or something. Animals tended to like him rather a lot, especially since he patted them so much.

But no, there was no animal there, not unless one counted the Serpent of Eden. Crowley was curled against his side, sound asleep.

Oh goodness. Aziraphale smiled, simply watching his sleeping partner. Crowley didn’t normally cuddle with him spontaneously. No doubt this was simply an instinctive response, seeking warmth, but still. It was very pleasant.

And Crowley was awfully cute like this, his dark hair all mussed up and barely sticking out from under the furs. His head pillowed on Aziraphale’s shoulder, sunglasses knocked slightly out of place.

Really, Aziraphale would have quite liked to stay right here much, much longer. He didn’t generally sleep for very long, merely taking brief naps on occasion. But although he and Crowley touched rather often now, he would happily take any additional contact.

Especially contact that Crowley had initiated, intentionally or not. It didn’t count towards the terms of their agreement, and therefore Aziraphale could bask in it as much as he liked.

He did need to get up if they were going to have breakfast, though. Regretfully, he pressed his lips to Crowley’s brow. “My dear.”

Crowley hissed and adjusted, yellow eyes glaring up from behind dark glasses. “What?”

“Good morning.” Aziraphale kissed his brow again. “I was just about to get up and start breakfast. Do you have any special requests?”

“Special requests?” Crowley shivered and dragged the furs to almost cover his face. “Some bloody central heating would be a good start. When are the humans gonna get around to inventing it?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know. I suspect it will be rather a long time, though.” Although displeased at the weather, Aziraphale shifted the furs and climbed out of bed. “But we could go to the public baths later. Would you like that?”

“Nnnnh. I would like some bloody technological development.”

“The baths are heated. They’re very nice baths.” Shivering, Aziraphale snatched warmer clothes and quickly dressed. “After breakfast, perhaps? Or do you want to wait until after work?”

“Work? What work?” Crowley stuck his head out from under the furs, hissed, and retreated again. “There’s no need for another tavern here.”

“Ah, but you must want to stir up all sorts of chaos! We’re in a nice big town now. So many humans for you to torment.”

“Joy above joys.”

Amused, Aziraphale patted Crowley’s shoulder through the furs. “Yes, quite. I shall see you later.”

Once bundled up to deal with the winter chill, Aziraphale ventured out. He and Crowley were rather new to this area, having just moved from Rome itself, and he hadn’t quite gotten used to the rhythms of life. He had, however, found some places that sold excellent food.

He bustled down the street to the bakery for fresh bread, then to a market to buy cheese, milk, and apples. Although they had plenty of wine, he bought more just in case. Crowley went through rather a lot of it, especially when he was cold.

And oh, he would be cold today. It wasn’t snowing, thankfully, but low grey clouds drooped across the city. A sharp wind blew, slicing right through Aziraphale’s thick cloak.

By the time Aziraphale returned to their house, Crowley was curled up on a dining touch in the small triclinium rather than in bed. He didn’t look any more cheerful than he had in bed. “How’s the open air today, angel?”

“Oh, quite brisk!” Aziraphale deposited his purchases on the table. “Look, I got some wonderful bread. I think it’s still a bit warm.”

“Great,” Crowley said without any real enthusiasm.

“Yes, I think it will be very good. I have some butter left from yesterday, although I might need to put it by the fire to soften…” Before that, though, Aziraphale sat on the dining couch beside the bundle of blankets and cloaks that was his partner. “And how are you? Did the humans invent central heating while I was away?”

Crowley glared at him. “Very funny.”

“I thought so.”

“I’m cold, okay? Same as I’ve been for the last week.” Crowley adjusted just enough to pull the blankets tighter around himself. “Especially because I know you’re about to disturb my blessed pocket of warm air.”

“Oh good. You’re ready for our daily hug, then?” Aziraphale asked, beaming. “You are required to provide it before noon, unless you’re asleep, and it is getting late in the morning.”

Crowley gave an aggrieved sigh, but he shed the blankets and opened his arms. “Okay. Okay. Come here, angel.”

Aziraphale happily went to him for their hug. He wrapped his arms around Crowley and tucked his chin into the angular shoulder. “Mmm. This is lovely.”

“It’s the most joyous part of my day,” Crowley said in an immensely sarcastic tone, hugging him back.

Despite the sarcasm it was a long, lingering hug. The sort of hug that made Aziraphale absolutely melt.

Some days, when Crowley was more on edge—if he’d gotten called to Hell recently, for instance—he became incredibly resistant to doing what anyone wanted, including Aziraphale. Something about “not crawling to anyone, no matter what those bastards say”. It was why he’d changed his name.

Aziraphale didn’t mind the periodic bouts where Crowley either outright refused to hug him or only cooperated for a few seconds. They always adjusted their contract whenever anything changed, and it was a great deal of fun for them both. Letting Crowley think he’d won at negotiations always soothed him immensely, and before long things would be back to normal.

This was a longer hug than normal, actually, and Aziraphale smiled as he figured out the reason. “So, my dear. Are you enjoying my warmth?”

Sputtering, Crowley tensed in his arms. “No. I’m just. Just. Making sure you’re not armed.”

Aziraphale lost control over a burst of laughter. “What?”

“Yeah, you know. Patting you down for hidden weapons.” Crowley vigorously patted Aziraphale’s back, then pulled back and glowered at him. “You are the opposition, after all. You might be luring me into a false sense of security so you could stab me.”

“Yes, well. I only intend to stab this nice loaf of bread.” Aziraphale fetched a knife for that purpose. “Speaking of warmth, you were being awfully cuddly this morning.”

Crowley’s cheeks went red. “No, I wasn’t.”

“Yes, you were.”

Sighing, Crowley waved a hand. The butter that Aziraphale had gotten out warmed and softened. “Fine. But it counts as your second physical affection for the day, since you enjoyed it so much.”

“It most certainly does not!” Distracted from the food, Aziraphale instead went to a stack of boxes in the corner. “We already established a precedent for such instances.”

“When?” Crowley asked innocently. “I don’t remember that. I think you dreamt it.”

“We established it in Athens, in, um… the seventh century? No, eighth century.” Aziraphale pulled the relevant scroll out of the box and brought it over. “There. Amendment eight hundred and twenty-three.”

“No, I don’t think so. That was about whether me hugging you counted, wasn’t it?”

“No, it was about snuggling.” Aziraphale tapped Crowley’s scrawled handwriting on the contract. “‘Snuggling initiated by the Demon Cra— by the Demon Crowley will not count towards any contracted affection.’”

Crowley looked at it. “I think that says ‘smuggling’, doesn’t it? ‘Smuggling initiated by the Demon Crowley will not count towards any contracted affection.’”

“It most certainly does not, you old villain.” Aziraphale put on his best wounded expression. “Really! That’s so mean of you.”

“Oh, don’t look at me like that…” Crowley sighed. “Fine. But I don’t think this contract is legally binding anymore, anyway.”

Aziraphale blinked at him. “And why not?”

“Well, I changed my name. There’s no ‘Demon Crawley’ anymore.” Crowley was putting on his best innocent expression. “So. Legally speaking, the Demon Crowley is free to not do any hugging, at least without an updated contract.”

Chuckling, Aziraphale sat back down. “You might want to be careful before asserting that claim, dear boy. Unless you really want to rewrite a dozen boxes worth of contract amendments.”

“Oh.” Crowley gave the boxes a horrified look. “Right. Right. Maybe we’ll do that up by miracle, then.”

Life with Crowley was certainly never dull, and Aziraphale beamed as he patted his partner’s arm. “I think that’s a very wise idea.”

---

Technically, Crowley really should be going to work. He hadn’t gotten an official base of operations in Londinium yet. And while Hell mostly left him alone, they would eventually take notice if he seemed to be slacking off. And Crowley did not want to get caught slacking off.

But maybe he’d slack off for one more day before he really got down to work. If Aziraphale said it was “brisk” outside, that meant it was practically a snowstorm. Crowley hated snowstorms. And the cold. And Earth.

Although as much as he occasionally tried to, he didn’t hate being with Aziraphale. They didn’t always live together—it depended on their assignments—but they spent a lot of the time in each other’s company. And even though Crowley should have hated the saccharine attitude, the constant desire for physical contact, the insistence that he look on the bright side…

He couldn’t hate that. He couldn’t hate Aziraphale. He was pretty sure that if demons could love, he would probably love Aziraphale.

Aziraphale beamed at him and passed him a cup of wine. “Here you are, my dear. So let me know if you need anything else, hmm?”

Crowley grunted and took the wine. Okay. Okay, maybe he did love Aziraphale just a little.

“I know what I need,” he said. Loving an angel, even a little, definitely meant that he needed to stir up mischief. “Anything, right?”

“Of course!” Aziraphale was still beaming, as much of a ray of sunshine as ever. “I would do anything for you, Crowley?”

“I know you would, my dear Aziraphale.” Crowley put on his most winning smile. “Which is why you’ll do the miracle on the contracts for me, right? To change my name?”

Aziraphale’s beaming didn’t stop. In fact, his eyes took on a mischievous glint. “Oh, I’d be so glad to.”

“Wait. Hold on.” Crowley eyed him, suspicious. “Why did you agree so easily? What are you up to?”

“Why, nothing. I’m an angel. I’d never be up to anything.”

“Yeah, and it really is darkest just before the dawn. Don’t give me that shit, Aziraphale. I know you’re not that innocent.”

“Well…” Aziraphale gave him the biggest, most innocent eyes possible. “It would be an awfully big miracle. And I couldn’t guarantee the contact would turn out exactly the same, if I had to do it on my own. I could make a mistake, and then suddenly you might owe me an additional hug every day.”

Crowley grinned. Oh, yes. Ridiculous as it was, he did love this angel. “You really are such a bastard. Shall we divvy up the work, then?”

Aziraphale beamed at him. “Of course, whatever you like. Perhaps after our honey cakes.”

Although already completely full from breakfast, Crowley took one of the honey cakes. He still didn’t much care about eating, but Aziraphale enjoyed dining with him so much that he couldn’t say no.

Which was fairly ridiculous too, and he’d have to do something to make up for it eventually. Maybe cause some serious traffic jams, steal some Roman weapons and sell them to the locals, that sort of thing. If he caused enough chaos, it could definitely make up for his unfortunate soft spot for Aziraphale.

He caught himself leaning instinctively towards the warm body beside him and stopped. No. No, that would be going too far, especially without setting terms.

He’d made the mistake of doing the whole touch thing without setting terms once before, and it had been upsetting for both of them. These days, he didn’t get overloaded by the hugs and cuddling and everything. It had worked out well for both of them, with a few adjustments over the years.

Well. Something like a few thousand adjustments, but who was counting? That was part of the fun.

And it might be time for more fun, because Britannia was one of the stupidest, most miserable places that Crowley had ever lived. Who the deuce wanted to live somewhere that rained all the time?

He drank his wine for courage, then slammed the cup down. “Right. Angel. About the contract.”

Aziraphale raised his eyebrows. “Yes, Crowley?”

“Do we have anything in there about additional physical… contact by me being optional and subject to withdrawal at any time?”

“Um.” Aziraphale gave him a startled look. “Um. I don’t think so, it’s never been relevant before. Why? Are you planning to engage in additional physical affection?”

“Contact,” Crowley snapped. “And yes, bless it.”

“Oh! Um.” Still looking startled, Aziraphale waved a hand. A scroll appeared, plus quill and ink. “Why?”

“Look. This place is miserable. It’s freezing. And the humans aren’t getting around to the whole central heating thing yet.” Crowley took a deep breath, then let it out. “I want to add something into the contract about huddling for warmth. But I can stop doing it whenever I like, understand?”

“Ah! That makes sense, especially while we’re here. Snuggling for warmth—”

“Huddling.” Cheeks hot, Crowley poured himself more wine. “And it’s for survival purposes only. I’m a damn snake. I need heat, and you’re the best available heat source.”

Aziraphale’s lips twitched with amusement, but he began writing without comment. Crowley glared at him anyway. This was ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.

But when Aziraphale presented him with the latest amendment, Crowley only briefly read it before signing. And then he plastered himself against Aziraphale’s side, absorbing the warmth of his body.

“Oh,” Aziraphale said softly. He hadn’t moved to put his arms around Crowley, but he did lean into the touch. “That feels very nice, my dear.”

“It’s practical,” Crowley grumbled, resting his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder.

But even though he still got overwhelmed if there was too much touch for too long, this really did feel nice, presumably for both of them. And although Crowley still didn’t like to worry about anyone other than himself, the truth was that he much preferred it when Aziraphale was happy.

And Aziraphale was happy. Weirdly, in some ways, so was Crowley. It turned out that winning at being a good partner made life on this ridiculous planet a lot more bearable.