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Aziraphale was worried.
Not particularly worried, mind you; he wasn’t expecting anything world-shattering or apocalyptic, and anyway at this stage of things, it was really more a matter of mild concern than anything.
It had been a few weeks now since Crowley officially moved in with Aziraphale, spreading his records and his plants and his- his general Crowley-ness around the shop and the living space beyond. For the first time since Aziraphale had set up shop, as it were, the place actually felt like a home, rather than just a place someone kept his book collection.
They also got a bed, a very big bed that could fit not just a king but a king, his queen, his mistress, ten of his bastard children, five of his legitimate children, his secret gay lover, and at least four dogs if you stacked them. They only used a third of the bed on any given night, thanks to Crowley’s unending quest to occupy as much of the same space as Aziraphale as was possible.[1]
It had been a few days now since Crowley had actually gotten out of it.
And, yes, okay, so they weren’t at the actual worrying stage yet. Crowley was very open about his favorite sin being Sloth, and it was not unheard of for him to take days-long naps when there was nothing important going on, and now that heaven and hell had- at least temporarily- left them alone, there was never anything important going on. So it wasn’t like Crowley going to bed for a couple days was all that unusual, and it was only the new proximity that had Aziraphale paying attention to it from the beginning.
But, well, it had been more than just a couple days, and Aziraphale could still remember when Crowley slept away an entire century. He’d missed him, and there was always the worry in the back of his mind that the demon would go for another one if he got bored enough, and with no work to do what if he, well, had gotten bored enough?
Still, it had only been a few days.
A few days were nothing. He’d give him a week, and if he didn’t show signs of waking then, then Aziraphale would get worried. He spared one last concerned glance for his personal temptation, then finished dressing and headed off to open the shop.
A week, then.
-/-
[1] And due to his insistence on trying to make a body with too many limbs and not enough vertebrae behave “properly”.
-/-
It had been a week.
It had, in fact, been nearly two weeks, counting the few days before Aziraphale started counting the week. He was worried now, so he decided to do the sensible thing and go wake the demon up and find out just how long he intended to sleep.
Crowley was sprawled out over the entire bed when Aziraphale swept into the bedroom. Sprawling over a bed that size wasn’t an easy task, but Crowley was a natural born sprawler- the wings helped, they were good for sprawling. When Aziraphale sat down on the edge of the bed, though, he moved instinctively,[2] curling and wiggling and shuffling closer until he’d snuggled around Aziraphale with his head in his lap, never once regaining consciousness. It was cute, and endearing, and almost made Aziraphale change his mind about waking him-
-almost. He took a moment to pet Crowley’s hair, an affectionate apology, and then reached for his shoulder and shook him.
“Wake up, my dear,” he said, continuing his shaking and prodding until a pair of golden eyes squinted blearily up at him.
“‘Ssssssirapha’e?” Crowley blinked a few times, and tilted his head into the hand still resting on his hair. “Ss’wrong?”
“You’ve been sleeping for nearly two weeks,” Aziraphale said, his hand moving automatically to pet the head butting against it. “It’s time to wake up.”
“Nooooooo.” Crowley whined and buried his face in the crook where Aziraphale’s legs folded, curling his own long legs closer on the other side. He mumbled something that Aziraphale couldn’t make out.
“Oh really now,” Aziraphale scolded him, prodding him some more until he’d looked up again, decidedly more grumpy this time. “I know how much you enjoy sleeping but this- it’s been nearly two weeks! It’s a bit much, don’t you think? You’re- you’re not planning to sleep away another century are you?”
Crowley glared up at him for a moment longer, then huffed. “It’s cold,” he said, as if that held all the explanation he needed. When this apparently did not, he added, “Cold, angel. I’m a ssserpent, remember? As in, cold-blooded?” When comprehension still failed to dawn, “I’m hibernating, you idiot.” As if to punctuate his point, he shivered, pressing closer to Aziraphale as he did. “It’s looking to be a really cold winter, I don’t want to deal with it.”
This seemed to be enough. Aziraphale nodded in sudden understanding. “Ah- so you’re not just planning to sleep for the next hundred years?”
Crowley rolled his eyes. “No, angel. Just for the next few months. Wake me up when it’s warm out, until then, either get in or go away.”
Aziraphale was already moving to do the former: he pushed and prodded Crowley until he’d scooted over enough to slip in as well. “Really now,” he said, tucking the blankets more securely around Crowley’s willowy frame. “I’m not going to just hibernate the whole winter away, you know.”
There was no getting free to change his clothes at this point; he miracled into his pajamas only to have the buttons of his pajama top immediately pushed open so Crowley could snake his arms around his middle, burying his face somewhere against Aziraphale’s collarbone. A pair of legs tangled with his own; a pair of wings rustled until one was draped over Aziraphale and the other stretched out across the now vast and mostly-empty bed.
“Oh, well.” Aziraphale wrapped his own arms around Crowley, turning them over so Crowley was now curled on top of him, and dropped a kiss to the top of his head. “I suppose a few days won’t hurt.”
-/-
[2] When Crowley was in bed alone, he tended to take up as much of the available space as he could. If Aziraphale even came near the bed, Crowley would start seeking him out and, when he got in, latch onto him. It would help Aziraphale to understand this if he realized that to a sleeping Crowley, he was in the best possible way a hot rock, a heat lamp, and a scorcher in the desert all rolled into one.