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"Bloody horses," Crowley grumbled.
He didn't even know why he had needed to ride a horse for this job, other than Hastur's neverending desire to inconvenience him. But whatever the reason, Hastur had made it clear that there was no getting out of this job, and following his little stint in Edinburgh Crowley was left with very little room for negotiation on assignments. So he sneered and begrudgingly agreed.
The job had gone smoothly until, upon the journey to return the blessed thing to its stable, the horse had bucked, sending him straight into a snowbank. He would have miracled himself warm, but the shock of the cold made it so that he couldn't do much other than sit there and shudder. By the time he was able to move again, he was too cold to do much about it.
It was getting dark and the wind picked up, directing the icy cold straight to his core. He wrapped his drenched cloak tighter around himself in some vain attempt to warm himself. It didn't help of course, but it was better than nothing. He quickened his pace, carefully sidestepping any large patches of ice. The bookshop wasn't far off. Hopefully he could make it before he discorporated.
Aziraphale shivered and looked out the window over his desk. He had been absorbed in his book and it had grown dark without his knowing. Snow whipped past his window in white streaks, and it didn't look like it would be letting up anytime soon.
Aziraphale smiled and placed a marker in his book. There was something particularly charming in curling up under a heaving quilt beside his fireplace with a good book on a snowy night. Since the opportunity had presented itself, he would be hard pressed to let it go to waste. Internally debating which quilt he would use, he scooped up his empty mug and prepared to make his way upstairs. Then his train of thought was rudely interrupted by a soft rapping on the shop's door. He sighed, mourning the loss of a night uninterrupted, and made his way towards the door.
"I'm sorry, but we are most definitely—" Aziraphale started, but stopped short when he saw what stood on the other side.
Before him stood a cold, drenched Crowley, arms wrapped tightly around his middle and a pained expression on his face. Aziraphale instantly noticed with a twinge of dread that Crowley wasn’t shivering.
“Hey’a angel,” Crowley slurred. He tried to step over the shop's threshold, but somewhere along the way lost his footing and nearly stumbled to the floor.
"Crowley! What happened? Please, come in," Aziraphale exclaimed, quickly catching him by the shoulders. The demon's clothes were soaked through and he was cold to the touch.
Crowley shook his head. "Long story. Just—want to get warm."
Aziraphale nodded and led Crowley upstairs. The demon was already dangerously close to discoperating. Crowley had only been back for a mere few weeks after disappearing into the ground in Edinburgh. He still hadn’t told Aziraphale what happened while he was gone, but Aziraphale knew he had been in Hell. Aziraphale had to act quickly. He couldn’t imagine that Hell would be happy if Crowley ended up discorperating so soon after going back on duty. Plus, he was well aware how much Crowley liked going to Hell, which was just about as much as he liked going to Heaven.
With a wave of his hand he miracled a roaring fire into the hearth and gingerly led Crowley in front of it. First order of business was to stop Crowley’s drenched clothes from sucking all the heat out of his corporation. Aziraphale briefly debated either miracling them dry or just off completely, but quickly decided against it. He didn't want to run the risk of shocking Crowley’s system. He wished he could see Crowley’s eyes to get a better read on his condition, but didn’t want to overstep the demon's boundaries while he was in such a vulnerable state.
“Crowley, I’m going to need to remove your clothing so that you can warm up, okay?”
Crowley made a vaguely affirmative noise. It wasn’t the clear answer Azirphale had hoped for, but it would have to do. He started by removing Crowley’s winter cloak, laying it down near the fire to dry, but not too close to risk it setting alight. Then he gingerly removed Crowley’s gloves and gasped at the shocking bright red of the demon's hands. Aziraphale pressed them flat between his own for a few moments before moving on to Crowley’s coat and waistcoat.
Aziraphale decided to leave his shirt as it was mostly dry. Instead of attempting to maneuver Crowley out of his trousers and risk him falling, Aziraphale simply miracled them beside the hearth, adding to the small pile of clothes.
Now that the remaining sources of cold were removed, Aziraphale grabbed a quilt folded on the couch and wrapped it around Crowley’s shoulders. Then he wrapped an arm around the demon's waist and slowly lowered him to the ground in front of the warm flames. Crowley had started shivering. Aziraphale sighed with relief, the demon's corporation had started to warm itself. He made to move away from Crowley, the demon's hand shot out, grabbing Aziraphale’s wrist and holding him in place.
“Warm,” Crowley muttered through violently chattering teeth.
“Yes, alright. I’ll stay, you foul fiend,” Aziraphale chuckled fondly. Crowley merely grunted in response and tucked himself tighter against Aziraphale.
After a while Crowley’s shivering subsided, but his reptilian-like demonic tendencies had not. Crowley had let go of Aziraphale’s wrist, only to wrap an arm around the angel’s waist a moment later. He hadn’t let go since, holding on so tight that his grip bordered on constricting. Aziraphale didn’t mind, it was quite enduring, though if he said so Crowley would be sure to deny it.
Aziraphale allowed himself to be trapped on the floor until his mind started to race with thoughts of what it would look like being caught in such close vicinity to the demon. He quickly shook himself out of it before he could spiral completely. He had wards in place that would alarm him if any being, occult or ethereal, got near to the shop. It would give him plenty of time to sneak Crowley to safety.
Plus, he was reluctant to let the demon go. He told himself it was because he had never been good at avoiding a good bout of indulgence, especially when Crowley was involved. He didn’t believe it, but it was a lot less incriminating than being too scared of losing him again so soon. But the floor was beginning to grow uncomfortable.
“Do you think you can survive the journey to the couch?” Aziraphale said, nudging Crowley slightly with his shoulder
“No, I’m a lost cause. I’ll never make it,” Crowley whined and wrapped his arm even tighter around Aziraphale.
Aziraphale clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Oh come now, you wily old serpent.” He reached behind him to untangle himself from the demon's grasp.
“Crowley your hands!” Aziraphale exclaimed when his hand met Crowley’s ice cold fingers. He quickly led Crowley to the couch, promising to return with something to warm his hands and scurried off to the kitchen to prepare cocoa.
Crowley raised an eyebrow upon Aziraphale’s return, suspiciously eyeing the two mugs he was carrying. “What’s in the mug?”
“Cocoa.”
“Just cocoa?” Crowley asked hopefully.
“Yes, just cocoa,” Aziraphale stated firmly and handed one mug to Crowley.
Crowley grimaced and reluctantly took it. Aziraphale stood in front of him, a singular hand on his hip until Crowley rolled his eyes and took a sip. He immediately curled his lip up in mock disgust, but Aziraphale smiled triumphantly and sat down beside him.
“There, wasn’t that hard, now was it?” Aziraphale teased and sipped from his own mug. “How are you feeling?”
Crowley shrugged. “Well, better now.” After an awkward moment, he mumbled, “Thank you, for not letting me freeze to death.”
Aziraphale nodded stiffly. “Don’t mention it. It was the right thing to do.”
Crowley turned his body towards Aziraphale, resting his mug on his thigh. “The right thing to do?”
Aziraphale resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “You know what I mean.”
Crowley took a dramatic sip of his cocoa and smirked conspiratorially at him. “Mm, not sure if I do, angel.”
Aziraphale huffed. “Well I don’t think letting you discoperate on my watch would be very angelic of me.”
“Is that the excuse you’re using now? I thought it was possibly because you liked me,” he responded, voice trailing off into almost a whisper towards the end.
Aziraphale felt himself tense. “Crowley,I—”
I do like you. More than I probably should. Much more than I should. Do you even know how much I worried while you were gone? I thought I was never going to see you again. I thought that again just now, looking as if you were standing at Death’s door instead of my own. I thought I was going to lose you.
But he couldn’t say that, it would be putting too much at risk.
“You know how this works. We help each other with the occasional assignment and lend a hand if one comes into harm's way. Because it’s easier, I believe you once said," he said in a tone that sounded much more sure of himself than he felt. "We remain acquaintances out of convenience’s sake, nothing more, nothing less.”
Crowley flinched. Aziraphale stared straight ahead. The air around them buzzed with anxious anticipation.
“Is that really what you think?” Crowley asked, breaking the silence.
Aziraphale stared at him helplessly. Of course not! I helped you because I wanted to, silly demon, for reasons that feel much too selfish for an angel like me to even consider, nonetheless act upon. I—
Aziraphale squeezed his eyes shut to stop himself from finishing that thought. It wasn’t like he could say it out loud anyway, it wasn’t safe. If Hell found out Crowley had accepted help from an angel so soon after his latest punishment… Well, Aziraphale didn’t want to think about what could happen.
“How did you manage to nearly freeze yourself to death anyway?” Aziraphale asked shakily, avoiding Crowley’s question entirely. He prepared himself for Crowley to yell at him and storm out. He wouldn’t even blame the demon, his anger would be more than warranted. They were friends, both of them knew it. But they also both knew the risks that came with that.
Crowley let out a defeated sigh and sank back into the couch, startling Aziraphale out of his spiral. “It was for a job. Got it done, no problem, but coming back the horse bucked and sent me flying into a snowbank.”
Aziraphale gasped in shock and turned towards Crowley. “Why didn’t you ask me to do it? I know how much you hate horses.”
“Would have, but didn’t have enough time. Hastur wanted it done as soon as possible. The one time they give me a deadline and I have to ride a bloody horse.”
Aziraphale nodded in sympathy. Their bosses certainly had a knack for handing out extremely inconvenient assignments at times. Crowley took a swig from his mug, and Aziraphale got the feeling that the liquid inside wasn’t cocoa anymore. With a wave of his hand Aziraphale followed suit. It wasn’t the best wine he’d ever had, but it was far from the worst.
A melancholic sort of silence fell over them, draped over Aziraphale’s shoulders, physically weighing him down. It wasn’t pleasant, but it was familiar, and Aziraphale much preferred it over the tension filled silence from earlier.
They sat and drank, then drank some more, until their mugs finally emptied. At some point Crowley shuffled over and leaned against Aziraphale. The weight on Aziraphale’s shoulders didn't disappear, but it lessened significantly. He wrapped an arm around the demon's shoulder, and Crowley wrapped an arm around Azirphale’s waist. They both squeezed tight as if someone would come along and rip them out of each other’s arms. It was entirely likely.
They sat in silence, holding each other watching the fire burn down. By the time hints of red were starting to peek over the horizon nothing but ashes remained. The night was over.
“I should probably go,” Crowley muttered and unwrapped himself from Aziraphale’s grip.
Aziraphale mourned the loss of contact, but let him go. “Ah, yes. It is getting to be that time, isn’t it?”
Crowley grunted an affirmative and snapped his now dry clothes on.
“Here’s your mug back, angel,” Crowley said and extended it towards Aziraphale. His fingers brushed over Crowleys as he grabbed the mug. Aziraphale froze and stared at Crowley, his glasses covered any hint as to what the demon was thinking, but he didn’t pull away. After a moment Aziraphale remembered to breathe and gently took the mug from Crowley. Neither of them moved for a moment, but just as Aziraphale was about to say something, Crowley got up and made his way to the stairs. Aziraphale turned so he wouldn’t have to watch Crowley go.
Crowley turned around, one foot already on the first step. “See you around, angel.”
Aziraphale cleared his throat and turned towards him. “Yes, erm. Mind how you go.”
He hesitated a moment, then turned and left. Aziraphale sat still on the couch long after he heard the bell on the door announce Crowley’s departure. No matter, he wouldn’t be opening the shop today anyway.
It was late into the morning when he finally convinced himself to make his way downstairs. There, he found on his desk a bouquet of flowers of beautiful red and pink hues. He rushed over to inspect it. He first noticed the beautiful pink orchids, symbolizing beauty. He felt himself blush and quickly moved on to the other flowers. There were carnations, pink for gratitude and purple for capriciousness. Aziraphale chuckled to himself. Then he noticed the singular red rose surrounded by cascading amaranth plants.
“Oh Crowley,” he whispered to himself. Together, the two flowers meant love, immortal and unfading.
Aziraphale sank back into his armchair, completely overwhelmed with emotion.
The bouquet was more than just a gift of gratitude, it was a confession. A promise made in a language neither Heaven nor Hell would understand due to how utterly human it was. It made Aziraphale’s chest ache and his eyes brim over with tears.
Maybe he was going native.
He sat for a long time staring at the flowers. Time felt like it stood still as he contemplated what exactly they would mean for the two of them and their future.
A flash of white caught his eye. There was a letter tucked underneath the pot. He carefully lifted the pot to retrieve it.
Angel,
Left some flowers. Hope you like them. I’m going to sleep for a bit, so don’t worry if you don’t see me around. Don’t know when I’ll be up, but I’ll send word when I am.
— C