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He’d only stood up for a minute, to stretch his legs and retrieve a book. But apparently that was enough time for Crowley, immersed in sleep though he appeared, to notice and take vocal (if unintelligible) exception to being alone.
“‘Ng’l,” the demon mumbled, shifting restlessly among the covers. “‘Zir’f’l… mghrsh ‘nnng’l?”
“Crowley? It’s all right, dearheart.” Returning to the bedside and his third-favorite reading chair[1], Aziraphale murmured the words — soft enough to hopefully avoid a jarring awakening, clear enough to reassure through whatever sleep-hazed worry was behind the crease around Crowley’s closed eyes. “I’m here.”
Crowley’s hand flung out from under the covers, questing aimlessly for a moment and then falling still again, even as his eyes stayed tight shut. “Where are you?!”
It was not yet near panic, the edge of alarm in his voice… just close enough that, left untended for long, it would most likely have crossed the brink.
But fortunately, there was no need right now to consider that brink. “I’m still here,” Aziraphale repeated, soothingly, and reached into the blanket to take Crowley’s now-limp hand in his and stroke it. “Right here with you.”
“‘Zir’fff?” Crowley muttered. His eyelids flickered,[2] fingers fidgeting again and clutching at Aziraphale’s. “You. ‘Sss… s’you?”
“Me,” Aziraphale confirmed. “Go back to sleep. I’m not going anywhere.” He brought his free hand to Crowley’s brow, channeling care and comfort with willpower and touch.
“Mmmmm,” the demon breathed, forehead smoothing, and his hand and face relaxed in tandem with the sigh.
Aziraphale waited a minute, palm still resting on Crowley’s forehead. Then, satisfied that sleep had been fully regained and all was well, he removed his hand and opened his book.
The room resonated with peace, quiet, and a small snakey snore, mingled with the rustle of turning pages.