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Crowley is adjusting the telescope, and he can’t hide that he’s shivering. Most demons get used to the cold in Hell, even if they might drink some fire to warm up it’s never a necessity, but Crowley made a point to spend as little time down there as possible, and he’s never quite gotten used to it.
It doesn’t help that it’s early January, far too cold for a late night outing like this, but Crowley just got his telescope in the mail and he can’t wait to test it.
“There you go, dear,” Aziraphale says, placing an arm around Crowley’s shoulders as he holds a blanket.
The shivering must have been more noticeable than he thought. “I don’t need this, I’m a demon, demons don’t get cold,” he says, because it’s still a habit.
He’ll get there eventually. He’ll remember that he’s not quite a demon anymore, even if he isn’t anything else in particular.
Aziraphale holds tighter to both him and the blanket, and leans with his body next to Crowley’s, holding the other side of the blanket for himself.
“Well, this angel can get cold, so just share it with me. It’s what people do when they have night time picnics, I think,” Aziraphale says, frowning a bit at the end as he tries to remember if this is right.
They are both new at this, still trying to copy things from novels and films on their way to finding what works for them.
Crowley decides that having Aziraphale this close is more important than holding on to the nebulous concept of demonic pride. “Fine, if you insist, but did it have to be tartan?” he says, turning his attention back to the telescope.
He gasps as a final adjustment to the lenses turns the stars into focus. He hasn’t seen them since his fall, not outside of pictures, they’re too small and too distant for his eyes, but now he sees them. Pretty wallpaper for the humans, what a waste of effort, and they aren’t even as impressive from Earth, but they are still beautiful, and make something in his chest twist.
“Did it work, dear?” Aziraphale asks, leaning his head on Crowley’s shoulder and putting his other arm around Crowley’s chest, making the blanket cover their legs as well.
Crowley can only nod for a moment. It’s only then that he realises that he wasn’t expecting this to work.
“They are so beautiful, angel,” he says, and the words feel inadequate, but they’re all that he has to offer for now.
Crowley leans his head on Aziraphale’s, adjusting the telescope so he can continue to look through it. Soon he’ll have to move, he wants to commit the entire night sky to memory, and this will take some manoeuvring of the telescope, but for now he’s content to just sit like this, next to Aziraphale, sharing a quiet romantic moment. Even if it doesn’t involve a ridiculous tartan blanket, or perhaps especially because of that.