Two days later, as Crowley lie in what was essentially a very large terrarium, he felt that he very much could complain. He was not some common household pet. He was a demon for heaven, hell, or someone's sake!

Aziraphale had made a number of arguments as to why Crowley couldn't stay wrapped around his neck forever, but Crowley felt that he could counter most of those objections with the fact that they were immortal. The problem being that he didn't actually want to stay there. Comfortable and warm though it was, being there meant he was still a snake and a common garden variety one at that.

So, reluctantly, he coiled himself on top of a rock in the middle of his greenhouse, which Aziraphale had miracled full of sand, rocks, and low sitting heat lamps. He watched drowsily as Aziraphale poured over Agnes Nutter's True and Accurate Prophecies, The Third Part, on the large rock that was currently serving as his chair.

The leather bound book had made its way to Crowley's flat by special delivery ten years after the apocalypse didn't happen with a note that indicated they may find the book useful, but they must never take it to France.*

Aziraphale was nearing the end of his second cup of tea when he jumped up, nearly knocking the cup into the sand. "I've found something!"

Crowley raised himself up and looked expectantly at him.

"She says right here, 'when ye, foolish principality,' that, uh, would be me, 'discover him that you love as he once was,' and that, um, that would be you, it says... oh, you won't like this, it says,'thee coldest ice from above will undo what they from below hath done."

Crowley crawled closer to Aziraphale and craned to read the book over his shoulder. While Agnes may have already proved that her prophecies were, in fact, true and accurate, Crowley still couldn't help questioning them even when he understood them.

But Crowley's eyes locked onto Aziraphales', and he knew they both agreed. Aziraphale needed to miracle up the coldest ice. On him.

Aziraphale put his hand beneath Crowley's chin gently, his hand already an unnatural cold. "I doubt this will be pleasant. Do forgive me."

Ice rose slowly from Aziraphale's hand, slowly coating Crowley's skin. He trembled beneath it, not sure what was worse, the cold itself or the traumatized look on Aziraphale's face as he made it.

He felt strongly that there was nothing at all to forgive. Aziraphale certainly didn't want to be doing what he was doing.

Despite a valiant attempt not to, he shook more and more as Aziraphale made more ice. And, then, suddenly, he couldn't tremble at all.

His innate desire to act human and attempt the human solution of shivering was being overwritten by snake biology. Damn brumation.

He felt as though he'd been dunked in the Arctic and couldn't escape. His movements had become so languid and lethargic that he felt paralyzed.

Worse still, Aziraphale had noticed. He wanted to stop. "Oh Crowley, I can't do this. It could...oh, it could destroy you."

"Angel," Crowley hissed. "You can't stop now."

It was all he managed before the world went dark.

XXX

Crowley woke up slowly to the low rumble of cars passing on the street below and the soft patter of rain against the window. He was groggy and cold and felt that he could sleep for quite some time longer if it weren't for the blasted cars and rain outside.

He folded his pillow up against his ears to drown out the sound. Then as some of the fog in his mind lifted, he immediately shot up, "Hands! I have hands!"

He kissed them both on each side before looking up to see Aziraphale standing in the doorframe grinning at him.

"And a body to go with them, it appears," he said, soft and teasing with a forced lightness.

"Aziraphale," Crowley said, his name dripping like warm butter from his tongue. "You're here."

"Where else would I be?" Aziraphale asked as he planted his hands on his thighs and sat gently on the edge of the bed, before moving one hand to Crowley's thigh and pressing his hand into it. He shut his eyes tight as he did. "Oh, Crowley, I thought I'd killed you. You were limp and cold and unmoving. I..."

He choked back what was clearly a sob, a tear or two still escaping from the corner of his eye. He wiped at them wordlessly with his free hand.

Crowley decided he would have to exact vengeance on that human turned demon that didn't even know what color of serpent he ought to be.

Her and Agnes Nutter both for making Aziraphale cry.

"But you haven't, angel. It's alright. You haven't," Crowley said as he slid over and pulled Aziraphale closer. "All the pieces are still here. Just where and how they're supposed to be."

Aziraphale relaxed minutely against his side, and they were dangerously close to Aziraphale telling him something good about him. He grasped for something, anything, to keep up demonic appearances, for, well, no one, really, "But don't think you're getting out of fixing these clothes. Just because they aren't two centuries out of date doesn't mean they don't need looked after. You threw me in bed with them on, and the state of them!"

Aziraphale sagged into him, lazily miracling the wrinkles from his clothes, knowing perfectly well that even that poor of an effort was all bluster, the bastard.

He pulled his arm back under the duvet and pulled all of it closer to his skin as the chill of the past day still seemed reluctant to leave his body.

"Are you still cold?" Aziraphale asked, concern evident in his voice.

"A bit, yeah," Crowley said noncommittally, lowering the duvet slightly. It had been one thing to consider the cold an emergency before when he was a cold blooded snake. Now that he was human again, it was a lingering annoyance. It would pass.

"Anything I can do to help?" Aziraphale asked.

He must certainly could, Crowley thought, but again it was one thing to aggressively seek the angel's body heat as a snake but now that he was human again, it seemed like crossing a boundary. One that they hadn't crossed. One that he wasn't certain they would cross. It was fine if they didn't. They didn't need to.

But, if they were going to eventually cross it, as their relationship moved at the pace of a snail, he was betting on some time in the late 2500s, maybe the 3000s.

Though the fact that they'd kissed so shortly after the apocalypse had honestly shocked him.

Aziraphale, of course, was full of surprises.

"Skin to skin contact," he said brightly. "It's worked before, and I know I've read in some romantic survivalist nonsense that humans, when they're stranded in the cold on camping trips or someone's fallen in a freezing river or lake, that there's just no choice but for them to strip off their clothes and huddle for warmth."

The frankly demonic glint in Aziraphale's eye suggested that he hardly thought any of this was nonsense. Crowley parroted him, "No choice, mmm?"

"No choice at all, I'm afraid," Aziraphale repeated, shaking his head in the feigned offering of bad news.

"Well," Crowley said. "If there's no choice then..."

He moved to pull off his shirt, looked over to see Aziraphale delicately draping his waistcoat over a chair, then hesitated. "Aziraphale, I hate to ask, breaking the mood and all, but, what precisely are we doing?"

Aziraphale stared at him blankly. "I've just said. We're going to strip down to our knickers and, um, well, we're going to cuddle until you're warm enough and then after that too, um, if you like."

Crowley pinched at his temple. "That's how all those romance novels go, is it?"

"Well, uh, no, they often move past cuddling to indulge in, um, more, um, carnal pleasures," Aziraphale stammered, blushing and awkwardly tracing his finger over the buttons of his shirt, clearly uncomfortable.

Crowley was immensely glad he'd asked.

"We can just 'cuddle,' Aziraphale. That'll warm me up fine," Crowley said. "'Carnal pleasures,' if you must call it that, only interests me if it interests you."

"Oh, really?" Aziraphale said, sounding both incredibly relieved and grateful. "I'm not sure about it."

"Then 'cuddling,' it is," Crowley said, wishing there was any way to make the word sound less offensively like a mewling kitten. Appearances and all.

They then both stripped down to their knickers, and, shivering against the drafty air of his apartment, Crowley lifted up his duvet cover and motioned for Aziraphale to slip beneath.

With the duvet firmly settled above them, Crowley leaned into Aziraphale, grasping at the promising warmth of his skin. "Is this alright, Angel?"

"Mmm, it's quite alright," Aziraphale hummed, content but thoughtful. "If it isn't too much trouble, though, could we turn around?"

Crowley huffed in slight amusement before rolling over. "Better?"

Aziraphale placed one hand over Crowley's midsection and started to comb the other through the short strands of Crowley's hair. "Much."

They lay there quietly and contentedly drinking in their much closer than usual contact for some time before Aziraphale hummed thoughtfully, fretfully. "We've got to do something, Crowley. You're not safe here anymore. The demons know you're here."

"Just the one demon. Hardly even a demon, really. Didn't even know what an occult serpent ought to look like. Made me too small and too green," Crowley said, turning over so that they were face to face. "Not that you noticed...Crawly indeed..."

He practically growled his former name, and Aziraphale looked abashed.

"It's been over 6,000 years, and you were you and you were a snake. If you're snake, and you're you, you're Crawly," Aziraphale rambled before abruptly stopping. He gave Crowley a hard look, "Now don't change the subject. This is serious, Crowley. They've found you here already, twice, and now I've gone and done several miracles here, without thinking. Oh, I should have taken you to the book shop..."

"The bookshop burned down with you in it, Aziraphale. Couldn't forget if I tried," Crowley winced at the memory. Time and the fact that Aziraphale was still definitely there and alive made it sting less, but it had still happened, and he couldn't live with anything like it happening again. "It's not safe either, if they're coming after me, they'll be sure to come after you as well. I think we're a two for one special now."

"Then what?" Aziraphale asked.

Crowley twined his fingers between Aziraphale's and began rubbing his thumb along his knuckles. After a moment's contemplation, he stated, 'There's always Alpha Centauri."

Aziraphale's thumb began tracing over top of his. "How about a cottage? In the countryside? We could come home to each other every night, like the humans do. We'd know the other was safe that way. I'd like that."

Crowley nosed against Aziraphale's cheek, slid down and caught his lips. They kissed gently before he pulled back. "I'd like that too, Angel. I'd like that too."

*Agnes knew, of course, that they would eventually do exactly that. It would be dropped on a plate of Coq Au Vin and subsequently covered in white wine. It would, however, stay away from America, Anathema, and all her future descendants.