It had been a rough night.
Granted, it had started off quite nice, but gradually went downhill as the hours progressed.
Aziraphale was propped up in bed, mostly for Crowley who was nestled close to him, already fast asleep. The lights were dim and the entire shop was drowsily warm, a haven from the cold blizzard that raged on outside like a whining, petulant child.
The angel read the night away, while the demon took advantage of the situation and allowed themselves to be gently drowned by the feeling of safety that accompanied sleeping next to Aziraphale. Nothing could hurt them, they were secure and warm and everything was okay.
Around 3 in the morning, Aziraphale yawned, getting out of bed and stretching, putting his book down for just a moment before quietly slipping downstairs to make a pot of tea. Surely Crowley could handle being by themself for at least a few minutes.
Well, apparently not.
Aziraphale was in the middle of gazing out the window and the snow blowing madly in the air, absolutely covering the voided streets of London, waiting for his tea to finish steeping when he heard a horrible scream from upstairs. The angel hadn't heard a cry like that since his days in Heaven, during the divide between Lucifer and God. It was the same type of scream that would ring out from those who fell. It was loud, and frightened, full of pain, and chilled Aziraphale to the core.
He rushed back upstairs, calling Crowley's name, suddenly dreadfully concerned for the demon. The screaming didn't let up, and Aziraphale ran into the bedroom to find Crowley flailing in bed, still asleep.
"Crowley, wake up!" the angel called, hurrying over and sitting on the edge of the bed, reaching for the poor bastard's hands, afraid they might hurt themselves.
"Crowley, it's just a nightmare- please- stop," Aziraphale urged. "Wake up." he said, his words dripping with intention.
The demon shot up in bed, their cries softening to whimpers and practically grabbing Aziraphale closer when they realized it was in fact, all just in their head.
Crowley didn't cry, they hadn't in the past, and they wouldn't now. Though that fact didn't mean they didn't tremble in fear at what had just transpired, clinging to Aziraphale like they might be discorporated, or worse, if they let go.
Aziraphale shifted and held onto the demon securely, one arm reached up to hold their head and gently run his fingers through Crowley's hair, assuring him he really was there, and alright, and out of harms way.
"Hey, you're alright dear, you're safe, I've got you. You're here, with me at the bookshop." Aziraphale explained gently- so gently. Crowley stayed there, with their face buried into the angel's shoulder until their breathing calmed and they stopped shaking like a leaf. Aziraphale didn't let go, humming a little to help Crowley calm down, until eventually the demon pulled back.
"I'm sorry." they said, glancing down at the bedsheets.
"My dear it's alright. I'm glad you're alright. You gave me quite the scare."
All he'd wanted to do was make tea, though he supposed he could do that whenever. It wasn't a big deal, there would be plenty of time for that later.
"Angel, what were you singing just now?"
"Oh, I don't really know. A tune I must have heard somewhere, I suppose." he shrugged, not thinking much of it.
"Could you, maybe, sing it again?" Crowley asked, although a bit tentatively.
"Are you sure, dear?"
"Nnyeah.." the demon nodded.
"Very well then," Aziraphale said, laying down next to them.
It was a soft melody, quiet and sweet, something that sung in a large open space would have resounded through the air so beautifully it might have sent chills down your spine. But, for the demon tucked back under the blankets, the hushed, warm tenor of the angel humming quietly near them was more than enough.
Crowley drifted back to sleep, the gentle song lulling them into the familiar cloak of nothingness.
~~~
When the morning arrived, it became quite definite that the bookshop would be closed that day, seeing as everything was practically snowed in on account of the blizzard that previous night.
Crowley had slept through the rest of the night undisturbed, and Aziraphale had been able to finally make his tea a few hours later. He sat on the tartan couch in as the world came back to life outside, contemplating about the events that had occurred, feeling awfully sorry for the demon. Perhaps there was a way that he could make it up to them.
A good meal always made the angel feel better, perhaps it would help the demon as well.
Needless to say, the entire plan went down the drain, and there was a reason the two creatures frequented restaurants instead of making their own food.
Aziraphale couldn't cook, and was hastily trying to wave away the smoke that wouldn't stop coming from the small burner in the kitchenette when Crowley woke up, shuffling down the stairs, still in his pajamas.
"Angel? What on earth are you doing, it's 9 in the morning." they called, rounding the corner to find a distressed Aziraphale standing over a burning pan of eggs. He turned around like he was being caught murdering someone.
"I just wanted to make you feel better after last night. And I thought- well- a good meal always makes me feel better, and-"
Crowley crossed Aziraphale and calmly took the pan off of the stove, blowing the smoke away on the burner, simultaneously miracle-ing things back to normal.
"I'm so terribly sorry, dear fellow." Aziraphale said, disappointedly.
Crowley went back over to the man and held his face, planting a kiss on his forehead.
"You don't need to do anything for me." they reassured.
"But it's breakfast! Humans say it's the most important meal of the day."
"Being here is enough." Crowley finished, and a surprised but sheepish expression appeared on Aziraphale's face. "We'll figure this out. It's alright, Angel."
Aziraphale took a break from the kitchen and came to sit with Crowley on the couch. The demon needed at least an hour to actually wake up, and longed for the warm covers once more. Until they reached that point, they napped in a ray of sun shining though the window warming them on one side, and a small heater that glowed red warming the other.
Eventually, the big lazy -and terribly threatening- snake became a human again and slithered upstairs to stretch and get dressed for the day.
When they came back downstairs the angel had changed his attire as well and was wrapped up in a book once more.
The entire bookshop was illuminated in a wash of golden morning light. Dust hovered in the air and everything stood at a standstill. Crowley bathed in the peace and serenity, glad that they were safe and that nightmare's were just that, nightmare's.
"Well, what do you say then," Crowley said, coming back over to the couch. "To some food."
"I believe I would say...yes." Aziraphale said, matter-of-factly. "Oh, but it's so dreadfully cold outside today." he added on with a frown.
"Yes, but unlike you, I can cook, Angel."
"I can cook! Just not eggs." Aziraphale said defensively, though a smile played on his face.
"Yeah, alright. Bastard."