Requested by rubyOMS

After the Apocolypse-That-Never-Was, the angel and the demon dined at the Ritz. But that was the last time they'd seen each other. They didn't try to part from one another. Fitting in with the humans just kept them both occupied.

Aziraphale ran his bookshop, which was suddenly booming. It's not that he had a problem with that, although he really did have a problem with it. He was kept busy with business. He tried to drive away customers as much as he could, all while trying to keep customers still coming. He needed an income, but he really needed his books.

As for Crowley, he was once again taking advantage of his presence on Earth. He was notorious for screwing with the mass of London. Well, most of the time he got away without being known. So he was up to his usual antics, trolling the population of London.

He also kept himself busy with his plants. In the time he wasn't communicating with his angel, he spent it working in his greenhouse. He spent hours each day, waking up early in the morning to treat his plants every day. He gave them lots of TLC, which to him consisted of putting the fear of Crowley into them, punishing them, but also the same TLC the average human would give their plants.

About a year and a half passed after the events. Cold months were upon them, and while that didn't impact Aziraphale's business too much, Crowley was having issues with his greenhouse. The person he was renting the lot from didn't seem to be interested in keeping up with the maintenance of the heaters, and this obviously irked Crowley.

He paced his livingroom grumpily, trying to figure out how the Heaven's he was going to keep his plants properly incubated without the heat. He paced for what could have been hours. He didn't have anything better to do, and the hours passed quickly.

The pacing stopped when he heard the phone ring. He immediately picked it up, not paying any attention to the caller ID. "Have you fixed my heating?" He immediately asked upon answering the phone.

"My, that's quite the way to greet an old friend," a familiarly gentle voice responded from over the phone.

"Aziraphale," Crowley replied calmer, rubbing his face with his free hand, "I'm sorry. My landlord won't fix my damned heating."

"I'm sorry to hear that," came from Aziraphale's end. "Ah, would you like to come to my shop for the time being?"

"Oh, no, it's not my flat. It's my greenhouse. I can keep myself warm, but my plants aren't demons," Crowley explained

"Well it's good to catch up," Aziraphale replied after a moment of an awkward silence.

Crowley curiously asked, "why'd you call me?"

"I just-" Aziraphale began, before pausing briefly. "I just figured I'd check in. We haven't quite spoken since Armageddon."

"Well, that's not true. We had dinner."

"Well that's just it. After that evening we never saw each other again. I guess we've just been so busy..."

Crowley then heard a beeping on the phone. He took it from his ear to look at the screen, seeing his landlord was calling him. He put the phone back to his ear quickly to speak to Aziraphale. "Yeah, listen, it's my landlord, I'll call you back."

"Don't-" was all Aziraphale was able to let out before Crowley hung up. He heard the humming of a dead call and sighed. "Don't bother..." He mumbled to himself, as if Crowley was there to hear it.

"Yeah?" Crowley said upon answering his landlord.

"Listen Anthony, some bugger kicked off the electric heat for all of Central London." As the landlord spoke, Crowley came to realize the consequences of his most recent shenanigan.

"Oh for Go-" Crowley let out, before cutting himself off from speaking of God in such a way. "Shit!"

He hung up the phone, speed walking to the entrance of his flat. He took his dark jacket, throwing that on over his barely buttoned button-up.

He drove his Bentley, the usual Best of Queen album blasting. He only had to go about 2.5 miles (4 kilometers) to get to his greenhouse. Once he parked right in front of it, he turned off his car. He then sat in his car for a few moments, hesitating. He wasn't sure if what he had in mind was the best course of action.

Oh, who was he kidding. Of course it was.

He got out of the Bentley, taking the front door into the greenhouse. It was open, vast, and had 6 rows of plants. The fans on the ceiling were running fine, the lights were dimly lighting the large room, and it was certainly brighter in here than it was outside during the mid-winter's evening.

He walked to the very center of the building, and looked all around. The plants surrounding him were shivering, and that was either due to the cold, or Crowley's presence.

"Don't worry, I'm not here to punish anyone. Yet." Crowley explained the plants all around him. He then rubbed his hands together, his hands starting to turn a light shade of orange. Once they reached a dark red, he took his hands apart and held them outward in front of his mouth. He then blew, warm air slowly filling the entire surrounding area.

Once the entirety of the building was properly heated, he put his hands down. "Well that oughta last a few days." And with that, Crowley made his way out of the greenhouse.

About 20 minutes later, he parked outside Aziraphale's bookshop in Soho. Upon leaving his car he noticed the sign on the door that read "closed." Along with that, the sky was now completely dark with nighttime. But he didn't feel any less welcome to go right into the shop. So he did.

He let the door shut behind him as he walked in. It had been locked, but it was easy for Crowley to snap his fingers and unlock any door. He wondered around, looking for his friend. "Aziraphale?" He called, peeking his head into the backrooms. But the angel was nowhere to be found.

Crowley found a bottle of wine by the sofa. So naturally, he plopped into the sofa and grabbed the bottle. Then he drank, and drank, and drank. He drank for hours, until it was the very unholy hours of the night and the bottle was finished. He didn't even get to sober up before passing out on the sofa, one leg dangling and both arms swooped to the side.

He was suddenly awoken to a sun-lit bookshop by the calling of his name. "Crowley!"

Crowley suddenly jerked, falling right off the sofa. He let out an "oof," upon having his entire front side smack the wooden floor. "Huu," he then mumbled, "tha din't feel goo-" then was cut off by a hiccup. He slowly picked his head up, it throbbing from either a hangover, the fall, or both.

Aziraphale was standing there, looking disappointedly at an empty bottle of wine. "You drank all of my Pinot Noir," Aziraphale commented with a soft sigh.

A grin appeared on Crowley's face. "Oh heyyy, Zzira-" hiccup, "-fell."

"Oh, Crowley," Aziraphale said calmly as he helped the still very drunk Crowley back up to the sofa.

"Wha'd I tell you, angel?" Crowley asked rhetorically as he plopped back into the cushion of the sofa. "I ssaid I would," hiccup, "nngh- call you back."

Aziraphale shook his head then. "You never called me back," he informed the demon.

"No! But I'm here!" Crowley said, a very proud smile on his face.

"Yes, er..why are you here?" The angel then asked, frankly a bit concerned.

"It'ss been a..a..." hiccup, "a long time. I'm here to partaaayyy!" Crowley replied, throwing his hands in the air and nearly falling right back off the sofa. If it weren't for Aziraphale being there to balance him back against the back of the sofa, he would have smacked his face right into the floor.

Before Aziraphale could even come up with a reply, Crowley got his face real close to his. "I love you, angel," he managed to get out successfully without any hiccups or stutters.

"Why, I..." Aziraphale began a reply, shocked by the suddenness of the statement.

Crowley then grinned and began helplessly giggling, pulling his face away from the angel's. "Jusst kidding."

Aziraphale then smiled an awkward smile, looking at his serpentine friend. "Yes, of course," he replied. "Why don't we just rest, hmm?"

"Ssoundss," hiccup, "gr- good with me," Crowley then replied, resting his head right down on Aziraphale's lap.

Aziraphale could feel his cheeks flush, but he wouldn't object. He wouldn't even move until his friend was ready to.