It had been a long day, a long week—hell, it had been a long month for Crowley. The relentless stress had finally taken its toll, leaving the demon utterly exhausted and, despite his vehement denials, sick. This turn of events led to him being "forced" to stay with Aziraphale, not that his heart didn’t race at the thought of living with the angel for a while. Aziraphale spared no effort in taking care of him, providing teas, soups, medication, blankets, warm baths, and the comfiest clothes.

By the end of the day, Crowley found himself lying in Aziraphale's flat above the bookshop, his face nestled against the angel's chest, arms wrapped tightly around him. Aziraphale's embrace was a sanctuary, and Crowley quietly cherished the rare moment of vulnerability and comfort. The angel's soothing presence eased his discomfort, and for once, Crowley allowed himself to fully relax, feeling truly cared for and content in Aziraphale's loving arms.