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Much to Crowley’s approval, Aziraphale had definitely learned to enjoy a nap from time to time – mostly after some particularly exhausting days (or nights).
He wasn’t such a determined sleeper as Crowley, though. He was careful not to sleep for too long, as he didn’t like the feeling of his body going stiff, and the need to spend a few moments in the mornings just to take in everything.
But that day, he, preferably, wouldn’t get out of bed at all. It was just so disarmingly cosy and nice, that even opening his eyes felt like some hard work.
It took him a second to realise that the comforting heat was coming from Crowley, who was quite literally entangled in him – in a way no regular human being should even be able to.
He could feel the steady rising of Crowley’s chest, and the demon’s red hair was tickling his chin a bit, so he blew at it gently, just trying to get it off his face, but otherwise didn’t move so as not to wake him up.
As stated before, he didn’t mind staying like that for a little longer. He was perfectly comfortable, even though one of Crowley’s bones was digging right into his thigh.
At some point, however, he realised he was getting a bit hungry. Technically speaking, he shouldn’t even get that feeling – he was an angel. But after indulging in something for a couple of millennia, it was nearly impossible not to develop certain habits. Breathing was another proof of that, and – in Crowley’s case – also sleeping.
Aziraphale glanced at the clock – it was 9. The demon would often sleep until late noon, and that just wouldn’t do. There was no way Aziraphale could go another 3 hours without eating.
He tried to somehow gently untangle Crowley from him, but it only made the demon cling to him even tighter.
“Crowley!” The angel sighed, which was met with a dissatisfied grunt.
The demon let go eventually, mumbling something under his breath, and turning to the other side.
Aziraphale stretched, and went straight to the kitchen to put the kettle on. He anticipated spending some time alone but, unexpectedly, Crowley joined him a few minutes later. “Morning.” He yawned as he stood by the counter, fumbling with the coffee machine. He was wearing only a T-shirt and some loose boxer shorts.
Aziraphale tried to smother back a smile, but it was rather difficult when the demon looked just so adorably domestic.
“You know, you didn’t have to get up just yet.” He felt a bit guilty for waking him up.
“Wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep, anyway.” He shrugged. “What are you doing?” There was a spark of curiosity in his eyes as he was observing the angel stir something in a bowl vigorously.
“Oh, I found this wonderful recipe a few days ago, and I thought I ought to give it a try.”
Aziraphale had never been a huge fan of breakfasts before. He liked going out to eat, but usually only for dinners. But living outside of London, he’d grown to be rather fond of some home-cooked meals, and the art of cooking in itself. So, breakfasts started to seem like a really appealing option.
Crowley would usually settle for a small black coffee – just something to get him going. But the angel liked to get a bit creative – trying to prepare various foods. Surprisingly, he was absolutely dreadful at it.
Crowley was always amazed whenever there weren’t any incidents in the kitchen on a particular day. Living with the angel, he had probably seen everything – shattered ceramics, the floor flooded with some unspecified liquid, burning curtains – he was just used to it at that point.
Just like with his magic tricks, Aziraphale refused to use any kind of miracles while cooking. He said that “practice makes perfect.” He really liked that expression, but it had been over a year, and Crowley started to suspect that it might not be entirely true.
The funniest part was, that Aziraphale would almost always actually eat what he had made – no matter how terrible it was. Crowley had figured out quite some time ago that the angel had some trouble admitting to his mistakes.
So, whenever Aziraphale made his awful breakfast, insisting on eating it, and frowning at every bite, Crowley sat at the table right in front of him, watching the angel, sipping his coffee, and struggling to hold in a huge grin. It was hilarious.
But from time to time, Crowley would help the angel because – despite never having used the kitchen in his previous flat – he was still better at cooking than Aziraphale. Not great, but better.
So that day, when he saw how runny that thing that was supposed to be waffle batter was, he tenderly encouraged the angel to add maybe a bit more flour. Perhaps also a pinch of cinnamon – anything, really, as long as it would stop it from having the consistency of literal water.
Eventually, everything seemed moderately fine, and they even managed to only slightly burn the waffles. At least they were still edible.
Well, Aziraphale even tried to convince him that they were good, but he wasn’t really doing a great job. Still, he stubbornly ate all of this burnt delicacy, just to wash it down with a generous amount of tea right after.
He then cleaned up the plate and both their cups using a quick miracle. He hated doing the dishes the traditional way. It was annoying, and it seemed to be a great way to ruin your manicure.
Well, it was supposed to be a remotely busy day.
Aziraphale enjoyed the rural view, especially given the fact that it was autumn, and all the trees looked beautiful. So, he planned on going for a walk across the picturesque countryside.
Crowley, on the other hand, had a slightly different idea for the day. He had a lovely little garden which he would terrorise from time to time, and he planned on doing just that, because the tomatoes really seemed to forget who’s the boss.
The previous day, both of them had also talked about going to London together and having a nice lunch.
They were planning too much, and too far ahead – that was the only conclusion. It simply wasn’t one of those days. The aura of laziness had been lingering in the air ever since they had woken up.
Aziraphale grimaced.
“What’s the matter?” Crowley asked, without as much as peeking at the angel. He appeared to be extremely focused on his phone.
“Look at the weather, dear. Don’t you think we should stay in today?” He made his best puppy eyes.
The demon looked out the window – there were at most two clouds in the sky. He raised an eyebrow. But according to the weather on the Internet, it was in fact rather cold outside.
“Not very angelic of you to encourage sloth.” He grinned, without even looking up from his phone.
“Well, not very demonic of you to… smile at your phone.” He huffed. That was really the best comeback he came up with. It was indeed a lazy day.
“Angel, I’m smirking at you, not at the phone. Also, I’m on Twitter.” He said, as if Aziraphale knew what Twitter was. “There’s nothing more demonic I could possibly be doing.” That didn’t explain a whole lot.
“So,” Aziraphale began again, now slightly annoyed. “I think the weather is getting even worse.” It wasn’t.
Crowley looked at him incredulously. “Yes, we can stay in today.” Aziraphale brightened instantly, and Crowley tried to stifle a beam of his own. “Though someone should really put those pathetic tomatoes in place.” He winced. “Anyway, is there something in particular you wanna do, or just lazy around?”
“Well, I was hoping we could perhaps watch something.”
“So it’s the latter.”
“If you must put it that way.” Aziraphale rolled his eyes.
“Alright, we can do it. Just give me a moment. I’m arguing with some moronic politician. I’ll come to the living room in a minute.”
“Sure, darling.” Aziraphale was slowly getting more fascinated and confused by what this Twitter-thing was.
He waited for him, sitting on a sofa that seemed a bit out of place, but was really comfortable.
In fact, their whole cottage was just a display of clashing styles. It was kind of a necessary evil, as neither of them really had any intention of giving up their décor ideas. So, they had to compromise a little.
And so, Crowley had chosen all the kitchen appliances, making it strikingly functional and very modern-looking.
Aziraphale had picked the furniture for their bedroom, as he believed it should be cosy and comforting, and Crowley couldn’t really be trusted with making it look that way. God forbid, he would probably paint the walls black, and it would be just so terribly gloomy.
They had a conundrum when it came to the living room. It should be reflecting the spirit of the whole house, and they had quite an argument about who should decorate it.
A brown sofa with a tartan blanket and cushions, in combination with a minimalistic coffee table and a highly modern abstract painting on the wall, looked positively ridiculous. But the room was just so undoubtedly theirs.
Suddenly, Aziraphale heard some rustle from the kitchen, and soon enough, Crowley appeared carrying a bag of paprika-flavoured crisps. He sank into the sofa next to the angel.
“Alright, what are we watching?” There was a peculiar mixture of enthusiasm and idleness to that question.
The demon pretended to put on a thinking face. “The Sound of Music?” He asked, smiling widely.
“Crowley,” The angel breathed wearily. “If I hear you say that joke one more time, I swear I will smite you.”
Crowley pouted. “Oh, I don’t know. Just find something on Netflix. Something that doesn’t require a lot of thinking.”
Aziraphale grappled with turning on Netflix for a hot second, and then he started mindlessly browsing through the catalogue.
“Maybe a romcom?” Crowley suggested, opening the bag of crisps, and moving closer to the angel, sprawling over him just a bit.
They pretty much picked a random film from the ones they hadn’t seen yet. But, to be fair, they weren’t too concentrated on it, anyway. It only occasionally managed to draw their attention, otherwise remaining barely a background to their cuddling and eating.
That must truly have been a remarkable day, if even Crowley indulged in eating snacks.
The movie wasn’t exceptionally good, but it did the trick. It had a very easy to follow, uncomplicated plot, was extremely brain-numbing, and contained exactly one good innuendo that actually made them laugh.
But, frankly, they gladly turned off the TV as soon as the credits started rolling.
Aziraphale reached for the book lying on the table in front of them.
Technically, they had a separate room dedicated solely to Aziraphale’s books, but it didn’t manage to contain all of them, and it certainly wasn’t enough to win with his little habit of cluttering. So, to make a long story short, the books were still all over the place.
“Really, angel? Crime and Punishment? How many times have you read that thing already?”
“It’s a classic! And a good book!” He protested.
“Yeah, I bet.” Crowley snapped his fingers, getting his phone, but after a brief consideration, he snapped them again, miracling it back out of existence.
“Whatever are you doing, dear?” Aziraphale asked, bewildered.
“Changing my mind.” He exhaled, lying down, and putting his head on the angel’s thighs.
“Really?” He asked in disbelief. “It’s not even evening. You can’t possibly be sleepy already.”
“Well, maybe I wouldn’t be if someone hadn’t woken me up this morning.”
“Fine. Stop scowling.” Aziraphale brought his hand to the demon’s hair.
Human bodies were odd – Crowley pondered. They had done exactly this so many times, but his corporation still reacted in all those funny ways every time the angel was playing with his hair or rubbing his head gently.
All his limbs went completely inert, muscles relaxed, his thoughts liquefied, and his eyes were shutting involuntarily.
So, of course, he drifted off, eventually. It was bound to happen.
But Aziraphale didn’t stop delicately stroking his hair. In fact, he was possibly even more interested in caressing Crowley, than in rediscovering Dostoyevsky’s take on the human psyche.
The demon looked so strangely beautiful while asleep – so unusually peaceful. And Aziraphale couldn’t help but smile at his somewhat softened features.
It actually took him a while to take his eyes off him and to concentrate on the book again. And he was only able to do so, after putting a blanket over Crowley and tucking him in carefully, as it was getting a bit chilly.
Once the demon was all wrapped up, Aziraphale hummed approvingly.
They spent another few hours like that, and Aziraphale imagined that if somebody asked him about his idea of a perfect afternoon, he would say this with no hesitation. Because after 6000 years, he was quite confident that there simply didn’t exist anything better than reading an incredible novel after a sinfully unproductive day with a warm demon alongside.