So much love to the Good Omens fandom! This one might be a bit mad, but this is coming from someone who just purchased an album of Gregorian Chant Queen songs. Thank you and good day.

Crowley had walked into the bookshop soaking wet. Aziraphale found him standing dripping and staring into the distance.

"Crowley, you're back. Dare I ask how it went?"

"N-not good, angel," Crowley said, shaking his head slowly.

"It might help to talk about it," Aziraphale offered, following him and fidgeting. Crowley looked utterly miserable. He wanted nothing more than to throw his arms around him. But they didn't do that. That wasn't part of the arrangement.

Crowley threw himself down on one of the bookshop's old squashy sofas. "Nah," he said.

Aziraphale sighed and went to make tea.

Now they were sitting side by side. A cup of tea and a mug of cocoa sat on the table next to Crowley, both untouched and now cold. Aziraphale had a book, but he kept stealing glances at him, and miraculously drying out both demon and sofa, but slowly so he wouldn't notice.

"'m not supposed to feel bad about this," Crowley said eventually.

Aziraphale considered his reply. But he had known Crowley for long enough that he could hear his friend's angry response to all of the possibilities in his head. So he settled for looking at him with concern.

Crowley leant his chin on his hand. "Probably did more miracles than I should have," he said. "You would have too if you'd have won the toss on this one. The whole village, gone. So many kids too."

Aziraphale had to look away for a moment. The thought of Crowley frantically performing miracles with no regard for his people finding out brought a tear to his eye. "It's all part of God's plan. It must be."

"Can't think of what plan would need that. Bloody stupid plan if you ask me."

Aziraphale shook his head sadly, then looked upwards guiltily.

Crowley pressed his hands against his head. "Right, I've had enough of this. Where's the whiskey?" He spotted the bottle across the room and went to fetch it.

"Feeling better now?" Aziraphale asked as Crowley finished a third large glass. He'd had a few himself, to be sociable.

Crowley leaned back on the sofa, looking up at the ceiling. "No."

"Do you know what makes me feel better?"

Crowley let out an irritated sigh. "I told you before, you're not getting me to read a book. Too many words, way too many words!"

Aziraphale smiled. "I was actually thinking about cuddles."

He watched Crowley mouth the word.

"Yes. You can think about cuddling. You can cuddle yourself. You can cuddle a book." Aziraphale picked up the book he had been reading and hugged it to his chest, then started laughing. Maybe it had been a mistake to let Crowley pour the whiskey.

"Pretty sure I don't remember anything about-" he grimaced "-cuddling up there." He pointed a finger upwards.

Aziraphale shook his head. "It's a human thing. But isn't it nice?"

Crowley shook his head and crossed his arms. Aziraphale was tempted to point out that technically he was cuddling himself.

"You can cuddle a friendly cat. You could cuddle your plants."

"Hmm, might give that one a miss. Don't want to start giving them ideas."

"You can cuddle a friend."

"What are you getting at, angel?"

They looked at each other, and Aziraphale let the suggestion hang.

Crowley put his legs over the arm of the sofa and shifted so his head was in Aziraphale's lap. "Happy now?"

Aziraphale tried and failed to contain his wide smile. "I don't know what you're talking about!"

"This is quite comfortable," Crowley murmured.

Aziraphale ran his fingers through Crowley's red hair and sighed contentedly. This didn't solve all the problems in the world, but for now at least they were together.