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Crowley had completely lost track — not that he’d been keeping track in the first place — of exactly how long they’d been lying together, limbs and relaxation intertwined, before Aziraphale stirred again, carefully disentangled their arms, and sat up in bed.
“If you could get off my leg, please, dear.”
Crowley had, in fact, just been thinking to himself that it might be worth suggesting to Aziraphale that they wake up all the way and exit the bed, so as to increase the range of activities to which they had access. They had, after all, spent quite some time sleeping already, and nearly as much time not-actually-sleeping. And he could feel hints of antsiness encroaching on the horizon, threatening to oust the last lingering remnants of tiredness once they struck.
Now that Aziraphale had been the one to make a move to get up, however, Crowley made an obligatory noise of protest — if only for the principle of the thing, because what kind of demon would he be if he didn’t? — and deliberately shifted so that his weight was even more fully pinning Aziraphale in place. “Thought you said you were going to keep me company,” he complained.
“I did keep you company,” Aziraphale returned amicably. “For quite a while. As you may, perhaps, have noticed. It was quite enjoyable, I thought.”
Crowley was definitely in agreement on that point. Still, he grumbled, “Thought you were going to keep me company longer.”
“I am sorry,” Aziraphale said, and bent to kiss his forehead — which did, Crowley had to admit, go a long way towards making amends for his cruel, heartless impending abandonment. “I do love you, you know. Don’t take it personally. It’s just that we’ve been here for a few days, and I think I’d like to make some tea now.”
And with that firm, implacably final statement, the angel gently but bodily removed Crowley’s hindering weight from his legs, gave one more caress of the cheek, and then stood up, humming to himself.
He paused in the doorway leading out of the bedroom and glanced over his shoulder, an all-too-knowing twinkle meeting Crowley’s eyes. “I know you said you’re staying in bed, so that’s fine. But you are of course free to join me whenever you feel like it.”
Crowley made a noncommittal sound of acknowledgement, watched the angel finally leave the room, and waited a full three and a half minutes for the sake of appearances. Then he rolled to his own feet and went to see what was happening in the kitchen.
He could have made good on his threat to stay in bed on his own. He absolutely could have. Somebody knew, he’d done it before — done it for decades in a row, sometimes, no problem at all. Crowley was good at lying in bed alone for extended periods of time, at least when he had nothing better to do.
But really, now that he had an alternative to alone, what would have been the point?