After the Almostpocalypse, as Aziraphale decided to call it, Crowley slept for nearly a month. He fell asleep just after he stopped the Bentley (real and solid, without as much as a scratch) in front of the bookshop. Aziraphale tried to wake him up at first, but when only sounds he managed to get out of his friend were warning hisses and and few barely-recognizable-as-human moans, he decided to let him take a nap. He came back half an hour later to wake him.
But the demon didn´t wake.
So Aziraphale just sighed and carried the sleeping serpent into his bookshop where he laid him on a couch. He didn´t forget to lock the Bentley afterwards.
Crowley slept the whole day. And the next day. And day after that. On the fourth day, Aziraphale understood that Crowley isn´t going to wake up anytime soon and moved him into the back room and onto a bed.
´Poor dear,´he thought as the demon curled up into himself and sighed contently, his forked tongue sticking out for a while as if he was tasting the air. ´Pretending Bentley to be functioning all that time really must´ve taken its toll on him.´
And he went to make some hot cocoa. Carrying the steaming mug and an old book into his bookshop, he stopped in his tracks, realizing something. He then shrugged, turned back on his heels and headed for the back room where he sat next to sleeping Crowley and began to read his book.
It was nice and relaxing, he had to admit. The bed was comfortable and the demon´s body was warm and solid against him (well, he was warm mainly thanks to all the blankets with which Aziraphale covered him, as the poor dear was cold blooded even in his human form) and his occasional sleepy chuckles and incoherent speaking was just adorable.
A week later, Aziraphale realized that he is still there and his cocoa has long turned cold. Crowley turned to the other side and begun to snore a bit. Dark mess of wild hair was all Aziraphale could make of him under all the blankets.
He felt a sudden urge to stroke it.
He tried to resist.
After five minutes of battling with himself, he failed and caressed the mop of black hair. The sleeping demon subconsciously moved closer, snuggling into Aziraphale´s warmth. The angel put his arms around him and pulled him closer.
At the beginning of the third week, Crowley´s sleep has turned restless. He started to trash and moan as if he was in pain, but Aziraphale knew better.
Crowley, after all, did fall from grace, even if he liked to claim that it was much more akin to sauntering vaguely downwards. Has it been one way or another, Hell was still a terrible place, even for a demon.
Especially for a demon like Crowley.
Aziraphale just sighed, wrapped the blankets more tightly around his trembling demon and prepared himself more cocoa.
It was going to be a long night. Or, as it was Crowley, a long week.
Crowley woke up briefly during the worst of his nightmares, but didn´t seem to realize where he was or what was going on. He just kept looking around in horror, his eyes wide open, no matter how much Aziraphale tried to calm him down.
He would always fall back to sleep, eventually, curled up around the angel like a snake and Aziraphale would stroke his hair absentmindedly.
On the fourth week, it began to rain and Crowley woke up.
He woke up with a silent hiss, slow blinking and a wide yawn. Then he sat up and took in his surroundings. He found himself, rather surprisingly, in what appeared to be Aziraphale´s bed, wrapped in probably every blanket the angel has found.
He didn´t really remember how he got into the angel´s bed. While he really liked it there, he wasn´t totally sure what has happened while he was there.
The answer came few seconds later, dressed in a ridiculous sweater and carrying a mug of hot cocoa.
´Oh, dear,´ said Aziraphale, looking rather relieved, ´you are awake. Finally. I was beginning to worry you´d sleep through the whole century.´
Crowley realized he was feeling rather groggy. He groaned and considered cocooning himself in the warm blankets once again but then he noticed the happy expression the angel was wearing and battled to stay upright.
´What happened?´he asked instead and yawned again. He remembered some things. Hazily. Like driving the Bentley down the M25. And Bentley being on fire. And something about the Apocalypse.
And him being ready to fight The Adversary with an iron tire.
He really hoped it was just some crazy dream.
´Uhm...after you stopped the Bentley in front of the bookshop, you just dropped dead asleep,´ the angel answered and sat down next to him. ´I guess that imagining the burnt Bentley to be functioning and all that stress from stopping the Apocalypse has exhausted you.´
Crowley shut his eyes tight.
It wasn´t a dream.
´You slept through nearly a whole month,´ the angel added and Crowley groaned. He always felt dead after such a long nap. It took him days to wake up properly. ´And you appeared to have terrible nightmares.´
Oh, no. That was so embarrassing. He didn´t need the angel to know about them.
´Well...sometimes I dream about losing my Bentley,´ Crowley lied fast. ´And there´s also that terrible dream about Freddie Mercury running after me, in tights and shirtless, and he is singing the whole Bohemian Rhapsody by himself.´
Aziraphale raised an eyebrow.
´If you want to talk about it,´ the angel said in the end, ´I am always here for you, you know.´
Crowley relaxed. ´That´sss nice, angel,´ he hissed, ´but I really don´t think that would be necessssary.´
Aziraphale let it be and Crowley was thankful for that.
He spent the following few days oscillating between the couch in the shop and the angel´s bed, draining several bottles of wine in the process, not even bothering to sober up. Aziraphale let him. He probably understood that he needed it and provided his cold blooded body with warm blankets, hot bottles and, a few times, his own body heat.
´I wassss ready to fight Sssatan,´ Crowley gulped. It was evening of the fourth day after he woke up and he was slowly getting back to his old self.
His drunken self, at least.
´It´s okay, my dear,´ Aziraphale reached and took the almost drained bottle of a fine red wine out of his demon´s reach, ´there´s a first time for everything...´
´I could have ended on the rack.´
´But you didn´t , dear, and now, if you just let me...´ Aziraphale stood up and wrapped Crowley´ s hand around his shoulders so the demon would be forced to stand up with him. ´It´s time you go to bed, I think...´
´You have to go with me,´ the demon murmured and Aziraphale, remembering the dreams that sometimes plagued his demon, didn´t have the heart to refuse. He is an angel, after all.
He is an angel, he reassured himself when he climbed into the bed next to Crowley. It is his job to care about other beings. Even demons.
At least one demon in particular.
Crowley was out cold the moment his head touched the pillow but Aziraphale, who never really got into the habit of sleeping, was laying awake.
´I am an angel,´ he repeated in a silent voice, observing the sleeping figure next to him. ´It´s my job to care.´ He brought the blankets closer around the still form.
´I am an angel.´ He took the slender frame into his arms and smiled when Crowley sighed contently and snuggled into the crook of the angel´s neck.
´I am an angel and it´s okay if I love.´ Placing a soft kiss on the nape of demon´s neck, he closed his eyes.
If that was how the rest of their eternity was going to look like, Aziraphale was perfectly fine with it.