Cuddles in the cold

Aziraphale/Crowley
Okay so this is the fluffiest fluff I have ever written. Like, no plot at all. Just fluff and cuddles. Because it has gotten cold in the past few days and my feet and hands and nose have been freezing and so I turned to cuddles as a solution because they always help, and they did, and so basically I just had to make Crowley cuddle Aziraphale for heat. I am pretty sure he did, quite often.
No ragrets.

As soon as the weather turns chilly outside, Crowley is constantly cold. The bookshop has so many windows even an angelic miracle can't keep the gusts of wind completely outside, especially when a scarce customer walks in and the bell above the door jingles and the next moment the cold practically bursts into the shop, as if it had been waiting just outside the door, eager to get in and rob Crowley of the little warmth he succeeded in gathering around himself.
He fights as best as he can: he hides under a bundle of cozy tartan throws on the couch, he drinks at least half a dozen cups of scalding hot coffee daily, even a few mugs of steaming cocoa or delicious cups of hot tea which Aziraphale keeps bringing him throughout the day, just when his hands start to freeze again. He curls around whatever hot beverage he holds in his hands and blows on the surface to get the steam punching up into his face. His nose warms up from it, even if momentarily, and that sends relief washing through him in warm waves. He really hates the cold.
In the evenings, Aziraphale settles next to him on the couch, pulling him in a comforting hug, which Crowley eases into with a content sigh. During the day, his angel normally lurks around the bookshelves, trying to dissuade customers from buying anything, and so once the bookshop is closed for the day, Crowley relishes in the feeling of Aziraphale up against his side. His body radiates heat, much needed heat that makes Crowley go all soft and cuddly, even more than usual.
Aziraphale seems to generally understand how uncomfortable the cold makes his demon feel. He gives him warm hugs and provides him with blankets and a blazing fire in the hearth, he even makes him cocoa and tea and coffee.
However, Crowley thinks, he might not actually realize just how much the cold affects him. As he brusquely suggests a walk in the park, or a casual night out, or when he gets that surprised look every time he touches Crowley's hand and feels how cold his fingers have gone. Even now, as the angel closes the bookshop for the day and sits next to him on the couch, cup of tea in hand, and Crowley practically climbs into his lap, taking the throw with him, for more warmth, Aziraphale acts a tad surprised.
'My dear, your feet are freezing!' he exclaims as Crowley pushes his ice-cold, sock-clad feet against his bare forearms under the covers.
'You don't say' murmurs Crowley into his chest. 'Have been all day.'
'Why didn't you say something? Silly serpent' scolds Aziraphale as his arms tighten around the demon.
'Didn't wanna bother you, angel. You can't really cuddle me all day, now, can you?'
That makes Aziraphale frown.
'I could have closed the shop, you know. Or tell the hearth to generate more heat' he says into Crowley's hair and kisses the top of his head for good measure. At the same time, the demon feels how heat starts coming in waves from the fireplace. A slow smile plays around his lips at the sensation.
'Thanksss' he hisses softly.
'Is it better now?' asks Aziraphale carefully.
'Better, yeah' agrees Crowley. He doesn't say, but the angel understands what he means by that. Better, but not enough.
'Come on now, dearest, I know how to make you warm enough' he says, and places a small kiss on the tip of Crowley's nose. His lips feel hot against the cold skin and make Crowley groan with pleasure.
'More, angel' he pleads, pressing closer.
'You'll get more in bed. Come now, don't make me carry you' nudges Aziraphale.
'But it'sss cold if I move' whines Crowley, eyeing the space between their bedroom and the backroom suspiciously.
'It'll be worth it, I promise' smiles Aziraphale. Crowley knows for a fact that he's right but he just doesn't want to get out from under the covers. Aziraphale lifts an eyebrow and he puffs, defeated, before taking a deep breath and getting off the couch for the first time that day.
In record time, Crowley slithers under the covers in their bed, coiling around Aziraphale as he joins him. The angel's body heat is the most delicious thing ever. Crowley ends up lying on top of him, his knees tight up against his angel's sides, his feet tucked under the miraculously hot thighs, finally starting to warm up a bit. He squeezes one of his hands under one of Aziraphale's shoulder-blades, the other lying on the angel's chest, placed just above his heart. His heart which beats in a steady rhythm, providing the warm blood to flood the angels body and thaw Crowley's own corporation as well in doing so. He snuggles closer and burrows his face into Aziraphale's neck, cold nose against his hot skin, sniffing at his unbearably perfect smell. The groan that escapes his mouth is not intentional at all and makes him blush.
'So is it better now, my dear?' asks Aziraphale again, smiling.
'Perrrfect, angel' admits Crowley, and Aziraphale could swear he hears a content purr following the words.
They lie like that for a long time, neither of them breaking the peaceful silence, just enjoying each other's closeness. Aziraphale, not much for touching usually, still tries to comprehend how cuddling the demon can feel so right, despite the full body contact. Crowley, after being cold all day long, simply enjoys the delicious heat that wraps around him, thanks to his lovely angel. The heat, the smell, the softness, the coziness of it all. His heart is so full it feels like bursting.
He yawns into the angel's neck as Aziraphale starts stroking his back with long, steady movements. It's so perfect he wants to cry from happiness.
'Love you ssssso much' he mumbles before dozing off.
Aziraphale does not move out from under him, even though the position makes it impossible for him to read - his usual night-time activity -, or even sip his tea. He remains lying under the demon, stroking his back from time to time, careful not to wake him. He spends the night contemplating their new life after the Armageddon't and gazing at the demon in his arms.
In the morning, when Crowley wakes up, perfectly warm and well-rested, and Aziraphale watches how those beautiful amber eyes open in wonder followed by a satisfied smile over the demon's face, he knows he has never been happier.