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There was only one bed.
It was, in its defense, a perfectly fine bed. Queen-sized mattress, modern frame, black bedding, tartan pillows, striking the near-miraculous balance of looking trendily uninviting while in reality being quite comfortable.
The problem was, Crowley was 100% sure that as of this morning (and for the past several decades, in the faint hope that they'd come in handy someday), his flat had contained two beds. Side by side. Just like on television.
The other problem was, there was an angel standing just behind Crowley, ready for his first-ever sleepover in Crowley’s flat.[1]
Which meant that, much as Crowley would have liked to interrogate the invasive bed standing smugly on his bedroom floor[2], there simply wasn’t time. Nor was there time to miracle the room’s layout back to normal.
“Crowley?” Aziraphale tapped his shoulder.
“Ngh,” said Crowley. "Bed."
It was large, easily spacious enough to hold both a demon and an angel, lying together[3], limbs intertangled as they slept, cuddling…
…Bugger. Had Crowley inadvertently fused the beds into one, out of some subliminal desire? It wouldn't be the first time his subconscious had betrayed him by rubbing off on reality.
"Yes, I know there's a bed," Aziraphale was patiently answering.
“Singular,” Crowley murmured, and cursed— blessed— berated his subconscious.
There could be no other explanation. The flat was too well-warded for any outsider to have broken in, and now that he thought of it Crowley did find himself very much wanting to share a bed with Aziraphale, and…
“Pardon?” Aziraphale came the rest of the way into the bedroom. And stopped. “Goodness, this looks—”
Crowley weighed the pros and cons of sinking into the floor. Pity he wasn’t welcome in Hell these days.[4]
“—just like I've been imagining,” Aziraphale finished, taking Crowley’s elbow. “Shall we, dear?”
“Ngk,” said Crowley.
And then — since he couldn’t figure out a suave way of saying There were supposed to be two beds but I think I did an accidental miracle but I guess it’s fine there’s only one since you’re apparently fine with it ‘cause I’m definitely fine with it — he just nodded, and led Aziraphale to bed.
By morning, Crowley had forgiven his subconscious.
The bed really was precisely as Aziraphale had imagined. Almost astonishingly so. Except for the pillows, which were for some reason tartan.
Not that Aziraphale was complaining.
He snuggled closer to Crowley, and closed his eyes.
The bed was just as he’d Expected. But the sharing was even better.
1 Technically, it wasn’t Aziraphale’s first time spending the night at the Mayfair flat. But the last time, they’d spent all night in the lounge forming a desperate survival plan, far too tense to even consider sleeping.
2 Who are you and what have you done with my twin mattresses?
(Something like that, anyway.)
3 In the literal sense, neither of them being inclined in the other direction.
4 Well, okay, not a pity. But still inconvenient, in moments of extreme embarrassment.