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“S’been a long day,” said Crowley, throwing himself onto the bed. “I’m having a nap.”
“It’s nearly ten o’clock, Crowley,” said Aziraphale, shrugging off his coat and setting it gingerly on a coat hanger in the corner of the room. “If you go to sleep now, you might as well rest through the night.”
Crowley blinked, then nodded. “Right, I’m going to bed, then.” With the snap of his fingers, he was in his pajamas, and promptly snuggled in under the covers. Aziraphale stood awkwardly at the end of the bed. “Joining me this time?” Crowley asked after a moment, patting the empty pillow to his right.
Aziraphale thinned his lips and looked away. “I don’t know, I– I’m not quite sure I’m suited for it.”
“For… sleeping,” said Crowley flatly.
“Well, I’ve never done it before!”
Crowley raised his brows in an overdramatic fashion. “Oh, right! Well, that’s that, then, isn’t it? Never done it before, so it must not be for you. No sense in giving it a try.”
Aziraphale narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips at him. “Alright, alright, you’ve made your point.” He sighed, then moved to the opposite side of the bed. “What’s the fashion for sleepwear these days?”
Crowley snorted. “Well, I’m wearing silk pajamas and socks, but you can go for a traditional nightgown and cap if you like.”
Aziraphale rolled his eyes with a “tsk”. “I’m not quite so out of date, you know– Did you say silk socks?” he said, his face scrunching into a frown.
“Silk pajamas. Socks are cotton. Or something. Soft. Dunno, doesn’t matter.”
“Ah.”
“Yeah. So…? Joining me or not, angel?”
Aziraphale gestured a miracle at himself, and was in a tartan flannel pajama set not a second later. “There we are.” Crowley strained not to roll his eyes as the tartan-clad angel pulled back the sheets and climbed into bed beside him, still frowning. “You wear socks… in bed?”
“Feet get cold sometimes, yeah?”
“I suppose, but it doesn’t seem right.”
“Well, you don’t have to wear them,” said Crowley, shifting onto his back. “Don’t complain to me about cold feet, though.”
Aziraphale gave a light chuckle. “Oh, I think I’m quite familiar with having ‘cold feet’, dear.” He sighed, settling in and pulling the sheets back over the two of them. “Not anymore, though.”
Crowley smirked. “No, not anymore,” he agreed, adjusting the sheets on his side of the bed. He snapped the lights off in the room and settled his head against the pillow with a long sigh. “G’night, angel.”
“Yes,” said Aziraphale, absently. A few seconds passed, then, “How, er– How does one go about falling asleep?”
Crowley rolled onto his side to face Aziraphale, the dim light just barely making him visible, and said, “Close your eyes. Stop thinking about stuff. And then it just… happens.”
Aziraphale closed his eyes but then opened one to squint skeptically at the demon. “I find it rather difficult to ‘stop thinking’.”
“Yeah, try not to think about it too much.”
“How is that– Crowley, now I’m only thinking that I oughtn’t be thinking about how much I’m thinking!”
“Alright, calm down. That sentence is going to give me a headache,” said Crowley. “Take some deep breaths, and relax. You’ll get it eventually.” He rolled back onto his other side and closed his eyes. “More we talk the harder it’ll be for you to nod off, so. I’m going to sleep. Good luck, angel.”
Aziraphale gave an annoyed “hmmph”, but remained silent as the demon drifted off to sleep. Soon enough, he found himself yawning, and couldn’t fight to stay awake even if he’d had reason to.
Crowley woke nine hours later with his legs over Aziraphale’s, and his head resting comfortably in the crook of the angel’s neck. Well, comfortable for a demon, anyway. A human might’ve had trouble breathing in such a position. Crowley had never been more content not to breathe in his entire existence. He sighed and lifted his head, squinting his eyes in the morning light.
“Hello.”
Crowley smiled. “Good morning. Awake, then?” he asked, pulling back just enough to place his head at eye level with Aziraphale’s gentle gaze. “How long?”
“Mm. Hardly half an hour, I should think.”
A small smirk crept onto Crowley’s face. “So you’ve just been lying there watching me sleep?”
Aziraphale blushed and flicked his gaze down, then looked back up at him through his lashes. “Well, you know, you looked so peaceful.”
They were quiet as they spoke, so quiet they might not have heard one another if not for their proximity. It seemed fitting for the setting, the sunlight pouring in like gold through the window– the only indication that there was a world that existed outside the two of them.
“So,” said Crowley, “how was your sleep, then?”
“Oh, well, I don’t really remember it. I wasn’t conscious, you know,” said Aziraphale, as though the demon might not know what sleeping actually entailed.
Crowley snorted. “That sounds about right.”
“But I– I slept well, I think. In this bed,” Aziraphale said. “It was comfortable. It’s… I’m comfortable now…”
“Mm. Me, too.”
It was quiet between them for a moment, and Crowley smiled sleepily when Aziraphale yawned. He didn’t have anything to say. He didn’t need to say anything, was the thing. They were both so content to simply be in each other’s presence. Several minutes passed before Aziraphale finally furrowed his brow and asked, “How, er– How long do you typically lie in bed upon waking?”
How long can we stay like this? Crowley heard despite the angel’s nonchalant tone. I don’t want this to end.
Crowley smirked and said, “Oh, hours. Get me good and comfortable and I can’t think of a reason to get up anytime soon.” I don’t want it to end, either, angel. And with that, he slid an arm around Aziraphale’s back, and pulled himself just a bit closer against him, his head dropping to nuzzle lazily at the angel’s shoulder.
“Ah,” Aziraphale sighed happily, melting into the embrace. “Good, then.” He tilted his head just so, to press a sweet kiss to Crowley’s cheek, then chuckled when he pulled back.
“What?” asked Crowley through a smile, absolutely elated from even the briefest contact of the angel’s lips on his skin.
“Your hair,” said Aziraphale, lifting a gentle hand to soothe through the red mess in question. “I believe you are suffering from a bout of what they call, ‘bedhead’.”
Crowley closed his eyes as he gave a light laugh. When he opened them, he lifted a hand to run his fingers through Aziraphale’s hair. “You’re one to talk. Yours is sticking every which way.”
They fell into a quiet fit of lazy laughter as they continued to play with each other’s hair.
“You know,” said Aziraphale once the two of them had sobered, “I think I could get used to this.”
Crowley grinned, then quirked a brow as he said, “Napping?”
“Mm,” hummed Aziraphale, trailing his hand out of Crowley’s hair in favor of absently running a few fingers down the demon’s neck. “Something like that, yes.”
Crowley, finding that it was much more difficult to tease when one was being teased, made a small, undignified noise and bit his lip.
Aziraphale chuckled and tipped his chin down to press another kiss to Crowley’s cheek, which prompted a soft sigh from the demon, who shifted closer and tilted his head up to kiss the angel’s jaw. Closer and closer, their kisses traveled to the corner of each other’s mouths, and then, sweetly, softly, simply, they were kissing.
They exchanged relieved moans and pleased sighs through their lips, and soon enough tongues were easing their way into the moment. It was languid, it was indulgent, it was the culmination of six thousand years of yearning finally exploding into physical affection.
They pulled away breathless, eyes wide and wild with the thrill that only a first kiss from someone so beloved can bring. And then they collapsed into gentle, quiet laughter. Gleeful giggles bubbled up and out of Aziraphale’s mouth as he pressed himself closer to Crowley, who chuckled quite the same.
“I love you, you know,” said Aziraphale, as though it might have been news.
Crowley beamed. “I’d worked that out some time ago,” he said. “Nice to hear you say it, though.” He trailed a finger down the angel’s side, and followed the movement with his gaze as he said, quietly, “I love you, too, you know.” He looked back up. “Obviously.”
Aziraphale smiled. “Oh, obviously.”
This sent them into another brief fit of laughter, and then a few sweet kisses.
“I don’t want to get up,” lamented Aziraphale, locking Crowley tighter in his arms, as though he thought the demon might’ve been about to make a break for it.
“Well, good thing is, we don’t have to,” said Crowley, with not an ounce of resistance to the angel’s embrace. “We can lay here all day, s’far as I’m concerned.”
“I’d like that,” said Aziraphale through a smile. “I’d like that quite a lot, in fact.”
“Am I going to have to pry you from this bed eventually?” asked Crowley, his voice thick with amusement and utter fondness. “Have I created a monster?”
“Hardly,” Aziraphale snorted, then snuggled in a bit closer. “But you may have to pry yourself from me, dear. I find I don’t want to ever let you go.”
Crowley grinned. “Fine by me, angel. Fine by me.”