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Crowley stood at the kitchen sink and looked out the window. Snow was falling; fat flakes fell slowly from the sky, adding a fresh layer to the thick blanket already covering the landscape. It was the outer edges of what was predicted to be a major snowstorm; which was why Aziraphale was outside chopping wood. Crowley had offered to do it, and he had offered to help. He reminded the angel that they could just miracle the logs into the appropriate shape and size, or even just go down the lane and buy some wood from their neighbour. But Aziraphale had insisted on doing it himself, the old fashioned way. Crowley didn't object any further, sensing that Aziraphale needed to do this; so he made sure his angel was bundled against the cold, kissed the tip of Aziraphale's nose, and promised to have something warm ready for when Aziraphale was done.
Crowley worked on dinner, keeping an eye on Aziraphale all the while. He’d been mildly surprised to discover Aziraphale knew how to chop wood; this was the angel who decided to go for crepes during the French Revolution dressed like aristocracy because he “had standards”, after all. But he hadn't always been a dandy; and there had probably been thousands of times when Aziraphale would have had to do something the human way to avoid revealing his true nature. Crowley had learned a thing or two that way, himself, and some of it probably looked like the last thing he would be caught doing.
But Aziraphale didn't look out of place with an axe in his hands, and Crowley enjoyed watching him split logs. Most of that had to do with how sexy the angel looked, but a small part of the fascination was due to it being such an un-Aziraphale-like activity.
Crowley smiled to himself and went back to dinner prep. It had been a long, hard battle to get to this moment; averting another apocalypse, dealing with the complicated, dangerous politics of Heaven and Hell, paperwork…so much bloody paperwork. Then they’d had to sit down and figure out what had been, what currently was, and what would be, going on between them. That had been more terrifying than anything Crowley had done to undermine the second coming; there had been a few times during that discussion when he feared Aziraphale would walk away again, this time for good.
But in the end, they found themselves settled in a comfortable cottage in the South Downs. It wasn't always perfect bliss between them, but they were learning to communicate better, and it had been nearly five months since Crowley had last stormed away from an argument so irate that he ended up striking the nearest tree with rage-lightening.
Crowley wasn't always happy, but for the first time in his existence, he was content. He wasn't bored, he wasn't lonely, and it no longer felt like something important was missing from his life.
He looked outside and saw that Aziraphale was done chopping and had started carrying the wood to the house. Crowley whipped up a batch of hot chocolate, handing Aziraphale a steaming mug topped with mini-mallows as soon as the angel stepped into the kitchen.
“Thank you, my dear,” Aziraphale said as he gratefully wrapped cold hands around the warm mug. Crowley smiled as the angel took a sip and mmm’d with pleasure. “Oh, is that peppermint schnapps?”
“Just a bit,” Crowley confirmed. “Didn't have any peppermint sticks.” He reached up and cupped wind-chapped cheeks in warm hands. “Are you sure we’ll have enough wood to last the night?” he teased, since Aziraphale had been chopping for hours.
“I want to make sure it's warm enough for you.” Concern was clear in the angel’s voice.
Crowley gave him a quick kiss, tasting creamy cocoa and a hint of mint that lingered on plump lips. “Angel, it doesn't need to literally be hot as Hell in here for me to be comfortable. B’sides,” he added as his mouth quirked into an irrepressible grin, “if I get chilly, I'll just snuggle up to you.”
“Yes, you… do like using me as a heat rock, don't you?” There was a certain tone in his voice that made Crowley’s skin prickle. “Tell me, my dear, how do you feel about the phrase ‘what’s good for the goose is good for the gander’?”
“Er…” That seemed like a trick question, the kind that no matter what answer he gave, he would be wrong. “I think it depends on who's the goose and what the situation is.”
Aziraphale suddenly shoved one hand under Crowley's jumper, pressing the still icy back of his hand against the demon’s stomach. Crowley whooped in shock and surprise, the sound quickly turning into a chuckle when he caught sight of the impish smile on the angel’s face. “Bastard,” he laughed. “You couldn't’ve used your palm?”
“But my palm is already warm, thanks to this toasty mug of delicious cocoa you so thoughtfully provided,” Aziraphale said, taking another sip, looking at the demon with wide, innocent eyes.
“Bastard,” Crowley chuckled again. “Want some more?”
“No, thank you. I’m going to clean up and change.”
Crowley took the mug from Aziraphale and said “Dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes, but take your time. It can hold in the oven.”
Aziraphale's eyes widened at the mention of food, Crowley gave him a playful seat on his bottom and told him to go clean up. While the angel showered, Crowley cleaned up around the kitchen. He was setting the table when Aziraphale came back, freshly showered and wearing a pair of khakis and a soft jumper.
“It smells wonderful, my dear,” he told Crowley. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Not rea- well, actually, if you don't mind finding a wine that goes with shepherd's pie?”
“Hmm, a nice pinot noir, perhaps? The earthy tones will bring out the savory flavours.”
“Sounds good. Do you mind grabbing a bottle while I get dinner out of the oven?”
Aziraphale went to grab the wine, Crowley brought the dish out and set it on the table.
“Do you remember,” Aziraphale said as he came back with the wine, “the first time you made shepherd's pie? With the mushrooms you found growing in that peculiar fenced off pasture?”
Crowley blushed. He’d been so proud of the bounty of mushrooms he’d found; little did he know they were psychedelic mushrooms and his home cooked feast would lead him and the angel on a trip they were not expecting and were completely unprepared for. The angel gently chided him about it whenever Crowley made shepherd's pie, and the demon took the good natured ribbing with far more grace than he had ever known he possessed.
“I got them from the market, this time,” Crowley said. “But I can always pop over to that field, if you want,” he jokingly offered as he scooped the meat and potato dish onto the plates.
“That's very kind to offer, my dear, but you’d better not,” the angel replied as he poured the wine. “The storm is getting worse. And beside, the old girl is tucked in for the night. You don't want to drag her out in this weather, do you?”
“No, you're right. And speaking of, I should check on her.”
“I did already, when I went to grab the wine. The garage is sealed tight, but I still turned the heat up a little bit. The Bentley certainly deserves it, after all.”
Crowley nodded and finished serving, and they sat down to eat, speculating on how long the storm would last and just how bad it would get. They talked about their neighbours and life in the quiet corner of the world they now called home. They talked about maybe taking a trip somewhere sometime; Tahiti sounded nice,and neither of them had ever been. They shared the clean-up, and they both carried wood to the bin upstairs so they could keep a small fire going during the night. They had a state of the art heating system, but they both agreed something about the cottage demanded fires on blustery nights.
It was by the light of the fire that they made love, oblivious to the storm raging outside. As the fire turned to bright embers, Crowley snuggled up against Aziraphale, not just for the warmth but for the feeling of safety that settled over him as Aziraphale slipped his arm behind Crowley and the calming effect he got from pressing his ear to the angel’s chest and hearing the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
It was these little moments of inconsequential normalcy that Crowley cherished, and he was thankful that he had an eternity of them to look forward to.