They got most of the way to London on the bus before the shakes started. Crowley gritted his teeth for as long as he could but given the angel was sitting plastered up against him in the god awful uncomfortable seat, there was no way he couldn't feel it.

A perfectly manicured hand reached out to rest palm up on his thigh open in invitation, and the angel murmured "Hold on as tight as you need to, dear boy" and heaven help him if he didn't reach out and do exactly that. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, interlaced his fingers with Aziraphales, and just tried to 'breathe'.

It was enough to steady him, so that he didn't realise the bus had stopped, until a gentle tugging on their joined hands roused him "Time to go, dear boy, this is our stop". Staggering and graceless, they departed the bus, and headed to the lobby of his apartment building. He kept a near death grip on the hand still entwined in his, and the angel was a solid steadying presence as they got the lift to the 6th floor.

The door opened of its own accord (the doors in his flat were wont to do that, without him noticing when he was in a mood. He was often in a mood) and he staggered in and leaned against the ornate back of his …. throne. Aziraphale carefully extracted his fingers from their grasp and with great care and gentleness, embraced him in a quiet hug.

Crowley closed his eyes and allowed the comfort for not nearly long enough, but he was going to come apart very very messily, and soon and choked out "Too much….I can't". With a murmured "Of course" the angel released him and looked briefly around before asking "Do you happen to have a shower in this temple to modern brutalism? The kind that's big enough to have an orgy in with all the fancy jet thingys and rain whatsits and endless hot water?"
The attempt at humour steadied him enough to reply with a ghost of his usual snark "Actually I do, it came with the place" and gestured through the opposite door "Through there, on the left" and just like that, he was being quietly bustled in that direction.

The shower was everything that was promised, and the angel paused for a moment, stymied by the choice of jets, nozzles, dials and handles. Crowley sighed and the two big rain makers turned on. The angel smiled a quick thankyou before tugging off his jacket and waistcoat, rolling up his sleeves and removing his bow tie and turned to the barely upright demon.

"Right then, lets get your clothes off my dear, while they could do with a wash (the pervasive smell of hellfire had saturated all the way down to his hair and skin and it made him shudder) I don't think a shower is the best option for silk".

Crowley didn't know whether to laugh or cry, they had saved the world, outed themselves and their own private rebellion to both Heaven and Hell, all bets were completely off, and the one thing he wanted most in the world was finally happening. His angel was undressing him, slowly and carefully by hand, and he was about to shatter into tiny pieces at the love and care Aziraphale was taking with him.

But the demon dug his heels in at the doorway of the shower, even though his legs were threatening to give way underneath him, he gritted his teeth and turned back to the now somewhat distressed angel "Need you" he grated out "Please, angel?".

With a look that almost glittered like tears, the blond angel waved all his clothing away, and stepped wordlessly under the steaming hot rain of water, and into the demons fierce trembling embrace. The trembling turned into shaking so bad Aziraphale backed up against a wall, and with a hoarse animal sound no human throat should be capable of the demon collapsed against him, until the pair of them were sprawled on the floor, with the demon inelegantly strewn across his lap.

They lay there for what seemed like hours, while the water did, in fact, appear to be endlessly hot, and he held, stroked and rocked while Crowley sobbed the most agonising heartwrenching cries. As he pressed his cheek to the sleek dark head and murmured soothing words, the angel silently cried some tears of his own, not for himself, but at the pain of his best and most dearest friend.

How had it come to this?

While he held as many of the broken pieces of Crowley in his arms as he could reach, the angel had a quiet and very fierce existential crisis of his own. Something very fundamental in his world view had been realigned by the events of the past days, and right now, he was very fucking pissed off at a great deal of the Universe.

Eventually the storm of emotion passed, and they claimed shakily to their feet. When Crowley brokenly started to stammer out an apology, Aziraphale replied "None of that my dearest, none of that. Its been a stressful day for all of us."

Aziraphale made a long arm, grabbed a plastic bottle of a shelf that hadn't been there a moment before, squirted a generous handful of shampoo into one hand and murmured "Do bend down so I can reach dearest" and proceed to slowly wash every inch of his demon, starting with a good hair wash and scalp massage. The shower filled with the scent of sandalwood, leather and something spicy, and as he worked, Crowley calmed under the soothing hands. Finally when the water was turned off, some very large fluffy thirsty bath towels were put to use (but the hair was miracled dry).

Crowley, wrung out with emotional exhaustion, the hot shower having sapped the last of the energy out of him, didn't even comment when the angel asked quietly "Where do we find the bedroom, my dearest?". He simply staggered out the door, discarding wet towels on the floor and across the stone corridor to his bedroom.

Bleak and minimalist in style like the rest of the flat but the fabrics and colours were luxurious, inviting. Plush burgundy carpet on the floor, and walls several shades darker, the bed was covered in black satin sheets, and a shimmering grey silk comforter. Naked, Crowley slid gratefully between the cool sheets, and moved over and held the covers open in silent invitation to the angel standing in the doorway.

They stared at each other for a very long moment, and it felt like the Universe held its breath until the angel made a rather cryptic expression and said "Of course, dearest. Do you mind if I?" he dressed himself in a pair of surprisingly modern sleeping pants and climbed into bed next to the waiting demon.

Skin to skin they held each other, too exhausted to do anything other than just exist in that moment, and drifted off to sleep together.