The cliché chapter except we have a new take on it—

Summary
Demons and angels can get sick just about as easy as humans can- they just won't die from it- Crowley isn't convinced that that's entirely true.

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Word Count: 1456

Requested by: @/water-is-a-lie (on tumblr)

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Crowley sniffled as he made his way down the street towards a familiar shop.
He hadn't exactly planned on getting sick- nobody really did- he was simply curious as to why the ducks had stopped swimming in the pond.
Well, that wasn't exactly true.
According to what crowley might say, the ducks were giving him odd glares, with the whole pond frozen over it caused all of them to rest on land— more specifically, by the bench he and Aziraphale usually sat at.
Whilst waiting for the angel to arrive, Crowley had noted to aggressive, or what he thought to be aggressive, quacking at him.
He interpreted this as the ducks proclaiming him a coward.
And he'd be damned if he'd stand for that.
He'd show those ducks.
They were afraid to get in cold water?
Fine.
Crowley was not.

This was followed by absurd gasps and screams as a darkly-clothed man leapt into the frozen-over pond, cracking the ice and plunging into the waters below.
He didn't resurface for quite some time, considering the cold still gave him a shock despite Crowley not needing oxygen.
He then took the time to flip off the fish who had been smugly sitting at the bottom, assuming they were safe from any hungry ducks, or those alike, from the surface.
After throughly scaring the aquatic life, Crowley had emerged from the water and stepped out of it like he'd merely dipped his toe in.
A small snap from the demon's fingers left police officers to be more concerned with a cat that had miraculously shown up in a tree in the middle of winter, than by some other call they had all forgotten by some miracle.

By the time the demon returned to the bench, the ducks had flown away.

Truly, it was out of the start they'd been given from the loud crack and splash that was a demon hitting the water, but Crowley believed it to be the fact that they couldn't face defeat.
Leading him to smugly walk home-

—And promptly wake up the next day, unable to miracle anything correctly and having a runny nose, sore throat, and fever.

Demons and Angels can't die from sickness- no, but they can receive the symptoms, both on a human level and on a celestial level.

Human level being the previously listed symptoms.
Celestial level being the fact that, should a demon get sick, or an angel for that matter, rather than the annoyance of a red nose or swollen tonsils, their ability to strictly miracle things is tampered with.
Where one may try and miracle a rubber duck,
An actual duck may appear—
Or something not even of the sorts.
A pineapple is what appeared for Crowley when he snapped his fingers for some tissues...his already achey body was not in the mood for such spikes, despite their lumpiness.

This then prompted his feet to shuffle in the direction of Aziraphale's bookstore, where a celestial being that actually could function correctly would be on standby.

Crowley had decided long ago that asking for help was a Coward's way out. Which was why he stumbled the streets with four layers of clothes on versus taking a cab.
This, however, did not extend to requesting convince.
Which is how he justified showing up at the angel's front door and shouldering it open, startling what few customers were there with his sniffly appearance.
He quickly sunk his head into the layers of scarves around his neck, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets, and stumbling over to the front desk best he could.
Aziraphale was not currently there and he could miracle the lock to the back room open so, hesitantly, he raised a wool-gloved hand and pressed it down on the bell, which meant that, usually, a customer needed help...so Aziraphale ignored the bell at first, he'd avoid it as long as he could.

Crowley groaned and rang the bell again.

No angel.

Again.

No angel.

Finally, Crowley resorted to slamming his hand on the bell repetitively until he drove the two remaining customers out of the shop in a hurry.

"Oh, alright, alright, just a moment!" A shrill voice came from the back room and Crowley took this as an opportunity to slump his head against the desk, knees on the floor now.

"Please do be more patient next time- Crowley?" Aziraphale looked startled at the demon's presence and appearance, "What in the lord's name are you doing?"

"You say that as if being ill is a skill- that rhymed." Crowley scowled, his voice was very nasally at the moment.

"Oh, dear...you've gone and gotten yourself sick, haven't you?" Aziraphale sighed.

"Not my fault you weren't at the park to stop me." Crowley sniffled as he got shakily to his feet.

"I told you, dear, I don't work with that kind of weather- I strictly told you not show for this precise reason! So neither of us would get sick!" Aziraphale waved his hands about in exasperation.

"I thought you were," Another sniff, "Bluffing."

"Why would I-" Aziraphale sighed, "Of course you did...well, come on now." Aziraphale hesitantly walked up to the demon before placing a hand on his shoulder.

A small smile of relief danced upon Crowley's face and he leaned into Aziraphale completely, "Mm...you're warm, Angel..."

Aziraphale shuttered at how hot Crowley's body temperature was, felling the other's forehead on his shoulder, "Crowley, you're burning up!"

"Freezing more like it..." Crowley hissed before grinning widely with his fever-brain, "You're warm, Angel..."

"So you've told me." Aziraphale murmured.

"I have?" Crowley frowned in confusion.

"Well, most of the time you accuse me of being hot-headed so-"

"That's not what that-" Crowley cut himself off when he spotted the couch and flopped face first into it.

"There you go." Aziraphale gave a small smile and grabbed the nearest blanket, pulling it over Crowley and gently tucking him in.

Crowley whined, "More..."

Aziraphale sighed and spotted the throw blanket on the back of the couch, draping it over the first blanket and tucking that one in as well.

"Still...cold..." Crowley whimpered.

Aziraphale miracled up two more blankets and a comforter and tucked them each to Crowley's liking, one by one, until the demon well resembled a burrito.

"Cold." Crowley groaned, "It's cold as hell, literally."

Aziraphale sighed, "I can't miracle more blankets or heaven will check in on why in the lord's name I had to miracle such a small amount of blankets-"

"Then miracle a ton and...and say it's for snake babies r'something."

"Now that's just personal preference." Aziraphale sighed.

A hand emerged from under the layers of blankets and Crowley snapped.

Nothing happened.

Crowley snapped again.
He growled as nothing happened.

"What are you trying to attempt here?" Aziraphale sighed.

"Tryin'a miracle you beside me, Angel- would you be so kind as to do that for me?" Crowley smirked sarcastically.

"Oh dear lo-" Aziraphale rolled his eyes.

"C'mere." Crowley snuggled his arm back in.

"If you get me sick I will force you to make me cocoa, Crowley, and you have to oblige."

"Fine, fine, whatever." Crowley hummed.

Aziraphale sat down by the sick demon's legs, "This good?"

"Lie down n keep me warm, Angel." Crowley grumbled.

Aziraphale sighed and laid down so his head rested by Crowley's feet, "Good?"

"For Hell's sake-" Crowley squeezed his hand tighter to his chest from under the covers, snapping his fingers with determination, so much that the snap almost hurt.
It worked though, for the most part.
The demon had managed to summon the angel by his side but had miracled all the blankets away in the process.

He instantly began to shudder.

"Oh for heaven's sake, you child." Aziraphale flicked his large overcoat so that it covered he and most of Crowley.

Crowley fixed that by wriggling closer to the angel and curling up to his chest, resting his head in the crook of his neck and allowing the coat to envelope them as he let out a content sigh, their legs tangled together so Crowley could take advantage of the angel's body heat.

And with how fiercely Aziraphale was blushing, that wouldn't be difficult.

Aziraphale sniffed, moving an arm around Crowley and reaching up to take the shades away from the demon's eyes, snapping his fingers with his other hand to place them on one of the shelves of the bookcases in the back room, revealing the tired, closed eyes of Crowley who looked miserable in sickness but content with the situation, "Quite a demon."

Crowley gave a small smile, "Such an Angel."

Aziraphale fell ill a few days later.

Much of the same happened.

***
//Another short one but here we are!
Similar to "Cold" ((which I've seen retitled as "Warm")) except Crowley's openly needier than Aziraphale and this pushes the "traditional" chapter out of the way in a different scenario than the usual one—
Hope you enjoyed!
Don't forget to vote if you did,
Thank You!!
-Jay😇😈