It was winter in London, and that meant freezing sleet, howling winds, and inadequate radiators in any building not constructed in the current millennium (and a fair few of those, too). For Aziraphale, it also meant the delight of bundling up in various jumpers, scarves, hats, mittens, and heavy coats when he needed to venture outdoors, and curling up next to the fire in the rooms above the bookshop at night in a deep cozy chair, with a book and a cup of chocolate or spiced hot cider. It meant merriment and joy, and a heightening of all the sensations that made corporeal life so fascinating. Aziraphale, nose and cheeks pink with cold, whistled to himself as he strolled the final few blocks back to Whickber street, and the silver sleigh-bells he had installed in place of the usual brass instrument sang cheerfully as he entered the bookshop.
"Crowley!" he called, wanting to show his demon what he had procured: Aziraphale's favorite chocolatier had been having a special, so of course he'd gone to take advantage, and found that the gentleman was also doing a package that included whisky pairings. Ah yes I know just who will enjoy that, he had remarked, then blushed when the chocolatier winked. But there was no response, and the angel tilted his head slightly, listening. There was not a sound to be heard in the slight chill of the bookshop, but he could feel that Crowley was there. Shedding his outer layers onto the coatrack by his desk, Aziraphale made his way upstairs.
As he approached the bedroom, he could see a light under the door, and feel a change in temperature. His lips pursed in slight concern. Crowley always did feel the cold so deeply, what with the leanness of his corporation, and his serpent-like tendencies. He must be bundled up next to the fire, Aziraphale assumed. There were times when the demon simply could not get warm, in fact sometimes it was so severe that he would—
Aziraphale opened the door, and at once cried,
"Oh, Crowley!"
Beneath the duvet, quilt, and sheets, and indeed beneath two throw blankets which had been thrown haphazardly on top of the bed, lay a large, shivering lump. At once Aziraphale deposited his parcels on top of the chest of drawers, and made haste to remove his outer layers. Divested of jumper, shirt, socks, shoes, and trousers, the angel crossed to the bed and threw back the covers. Beneath them, coiled up tightly on himself so that his scarlet underbelly was scarcely visible, was the large black snake that was Crowley, yellow eyes staring up at Aziraphale plaintively.
"It's alright, dear," Aziraphale soothed as he climbed into the bed, Crowley's coils rustling to make room for him, "I'm here now." Though he had come through the door with a chilled face, Aziraphale was naturally a warm being, and beneath the many layers beneath which Crowley had burrowed, instantly began to radiate heat. Crowley uncoiled himself as Aziraphale shifted into position, then began to re-wind himself: this time, around his angel's body and limbs, spreading every inch of his scaly underbelly against Aziraphale's skin.
"I'm here now," Aziraphale murmured again, wrapping his arms across his own torso to embrace the thick coils that curled about his chest and arms, one hand coming to rest on the back of the snake's head as it slid around his neck. Crowley squeezed his whole body slightly, and Aziraphale sighed, squeezing back to every part of his demon he could reach. Fortunately for Aziraphale, he had long since miracled the bed so that he wouldn't sweat when it got too warm, merely able to enjoy the pleasant heat. It did, however, have the tendency to make him extremely sleepy, and it was hardly any time at all before he drifted off.
When Aziraphale awoke, the room was much darker: the fire had burned down significantly, and the light from a streetlamp drifted in through the window, illuminating the snowflakes that had begun to fall outside. But between the still-smoldering fire and the two beings in the room, it was still toasty-warm. At some point, Crowley had resumed his human form, and now lay, limbs-entangled, with Aziraphale. The angel smiled.
"Better, my dear?"
"Ngk," Crowley replied from within the crook of Aziraphale's neck, where his lips formed a grateful kiss.