(Because - as has rightfully been pointed out - the angel needs his cuddles, too.)
â
âCrowley?â
âNnnnh?â The sprawl of limbs dozing on the sofa shifted, resolving into six feet of lazy demon.
âCan you help me with this?â Rising up on his toes, Aziraphale gestured with the book in his hand. âI canât quite reach the top shelf.â
âDonât you have a stool or something?â
âItâs on the other side of the shop, and youâre right here.â
With another groan, Crowley rolled off the sofa in a strange, almost fluid motion, and sauntered across the room. âWhere does it go?â
âJust there.â He pointed again as Crowley took the book, glaring at the top shelf. It was, in reality, slightly too high for either of them to reach.
Crowley stretched, standing on his own toes, one hand resting on Aziraphaleâs shoulder for balance, until he could just barely get the corner of the book into the gap between two others, and shoved it hard into place.
âThere. If that broke the thing, sânot my fault.â
âNo, I wouldnât dream ofâŚthank you, my dear.â
âMmmh.â Crowley gave Aziraphale a half-grin before wandering back towards his favorite resting spot.
Behind his back, Aziraphale pressed his own hand to where his shoulder still burned with lovely heat.
â
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This. Is. AMAZING. Itâs sooooo well written and full of heartache and sweetness and I adore it. We see so much of Crowley pining, I love seeing Aziraphale pining.
