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Crowley laid his head on Aziraphale’s lap sighing, and closed his eyes. The only sounds in the cottage were page turns, small sips of tea, and the pop and crackle from the fireplace.
Aziraphale reached the end of the chapter and set the book aside, running his fingers through Crowley’s hair. He watched the light from the flames dance over Crowley’s face, flickering shadows and highlights confirming Crowley’s beauty. He hummed, content and loving, as he gazed down at Crowley.
He gently took Crowley’s hand and kissed his knuckles. Crowley smiled in his sleep.
“I love you, Crowley.” Aziraphale whispered.