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Aziraphale kept his hands by his sides. He was alright. He was. He’d been through this before, right?
“...as the longest-serving Angel stationed on Earth well, Aziraphale, other Guardians look up to you. You understand that, don’t you?” Gabriel was saying.
He made himself nod.
“Don’t you?” Gabriel said again.
A heavy hand came down on his shoulder-- Sandalphon had gotten behind him when he wasn’t watching. Again.
“Y-- Yes,” he said, holding himself still under that weight. “Yes, I understand. Of course.”
“Great! Then you’ll understand why we need to cut your access again, right? You’ll show everyone that they don’t need all the miracles they’ve been pulling down any more than you do!”
“Of course I-- wait. I’m sorry, what?”
“Your miracle usage! You’ve been doing a lot of them, far too many, and I’m afraid it’s setting a bad example for the entire Guardian Corps. Somehow everyone thinks that now they can use all the miracles they want, interfering with human affairs--”
“I’m... You do understand that there’s a war on, don’t you?” He was trying not to argue, trying to get through it, but his mouth just kept going. “The Great War? All the nations of the world?”
“Well. Not the GREAT war, obviously. We’d know if that was due to happen any time soon.”
“Not... not Heaven’s Great War, no. But on Earth, on Earth there is great suffering, you’ve no idea--”
He stopped, too late. Sandalphon’s hand tightened on his shoulder. “No idea?”
“I think you forget who reads all the reports,” Gabriel was saying.
“I I I know you do, I know you, you read the reports but I’m not sure the reports can carry all the souls in despair--”
Gabriel looked at him, jovial as always. “Souls are always in despair. That’s their job.”
Aziraphale was back. Crowley could feel it, could always tell when the angel returned from Heaven. The whole feel of grey, wet winter London got brighter and warmer when Aziraphale was back in the world.
It seemed a little weak this time, though. Bits of radiance snaked through the snow and dirty slush, rather than shining brightly out from Soho.
Crowley was out the door of his flat before he could think about it, miracling on a coat against the chill as he went.
The windows of AZ Fell’s were dark, the air inside still and freezing. “Angel?”
Silence. Even the street noise outside, the buses and pedestrians and bustle was muted in here.
“Angel?” he said again, moving further in. Aziraphale was here, he could feel it, but...
There. In the back, of course. Where he lived; where it was his space. Their space, sometimes.
Aziraphale was on the floor, curled in on himself in the stinging air.
Crowley snapped a fire into the fireplace and stepped over to Aziraphale. “Angel,” he said again, kneeling down. He took one wrist in his hand. “Bollocks, you’re cold. How did you--?”
The skin under his fingers pulsed once. Twice. Steady, but so slow.
Sod it, this wasn’t right. Any of it. He’d ask permission later; right now he miracled off Aziraphale’s jacket, then lay down. Pulled the old quilt off the sofa to cover them both.
The fire helped. He set himself in, curling around Aziraphale, sharing his heat until the angel finally started to stir.
“Wh--” Aziraphale said. “Cr-- Crowley?”
“It’s me.” He nuzzled in, taking comfort in the speeding of Aziraphale’s heartbeat. “You’re safe.”
“We mustn’t--”
“You’re still chilled, stay put. What were you thinking, skimping on the fire?”
Aziraphale tensed against him. “I was... Gabriel had some words to say about my miracle usage.”
“Did you tell him there’s a bollocking great war on?”
“It wasn’t well received. Apparently I’m to, to serve as an example to the others. Of what can be done without...”
“Without?” Crowley finally prompted, although he already knew.
“Without miracles. At all,” Aziraphale finished, shaking.
“...and you got back through the rain and snow, without being able to warm yourself up, to a store without firewood...”
A nod.
“That fucker.”
“Crowley, you mustn’t--”
“Demon, yeah? I’ll call him whatever I want. You were freezing to death, angel.”
Aziraphale opened his mouth, then stopped. “It was. Um. Frightfully cold in here.”
“Could have asked any of your neighbors, y’know.”
“Oh. Yes, I suppose they might have helped. But I was so awfully tired, already.”
Crowley took a breath. “Y’could’ve come to mine.”
“Oh.” Aziraphale wriggled a bit. “Wouldn’t I have disturbed you?”
“Yeah, finding you half gone wasn’t disturbing. Of course you could.”
“Oh,” Aziraphale said again. “I... I will try not to need to. But... I think I’d like that.”