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Aziraphale had never been afraid of the dark.
Or things that went bump in the night.
Or even the weirdly shaped hand that often emerged from under his bed from time to time.
Whereas some would've run for the hills or burned their whole house down, Aziraphale had honestly found the strange creature's company oddly comforting.
"Aziraphale, honey, aren't you the slightest bit concerned for your own well-being?" His friend, Mrs. Sandwich, had asked him one afternoon.
"Why would I be concerned??"
"Because there's a literal monster under your bed!" pointed out Maggie, his dear cousin on his father's side.
"Oh, but he's harmless."
"It's a he?" Nina, Maggie's girlfriend, had reacted to his statement.
"I'd be thoroughly disappointed if he wasn't."
Aziraphale was lonely, yes, but he wasn't that desperate to the point that he would want to switch teams. Especially considering that he was gayer than a tree full of monkeys on nitrous oxide.
"Now, now, dearies," Tracy, Aziraphale's manicurist, had come up behind him to rest her hands on his shoulders, "whatever Mr. Fell is getting up to in his own home is strictly none of our business."
And that had ended their conversation.
Now, Aziraphale was reading in bed with a cup of steaming hot cocoa in hand, a nightly routine he had made a habit of during every end of the week. The story he was reading that night had him thoroughly invested that, by the time he finished it, his eyelids were barely open, and he felt too exhausted to even be bothered to turn off his lights or pull up his sheets.
What was strange though was that, when he woke up the next morning, he had found himself tucked into bed with the lights turned off – something he was very sure he didn't do last night. Not to mention, his book had magically appeared on the nightstand by his now empty cup. Aziraphale swore it had slipped from his hand and landed on the floor. He had even heard the soft thud it made when it fell.
The only explanation to the weird happenings would be that a certain creature had something to do with it.
"Hmm… that was very kind of you, my dear," Aziraphale said appreciatively, smiling as he heard a small hiss from under his bed.
He noticed that his friend didn't really talk, but he did make quite a lot of strange noises.
"Will you ever tell me your name?"
"Hnnngh… ngk."
Aziraphale giggled at that reply. "Alright. I'll take that as a no."
The bookshop owner couldn't deny that he was developing a strange fondness for the creature beneath his bed. And he wasn't ashamed of it in the slightest. Why should he be? The creature was nothing but a shy sweetheart! Aziraphale had even caught him gently running his long thin fingers through his own soft curls when he thought the human was fast asleep.
"I can't imagine how uncomfortable you must be under there. Why don't you come up here?" Aziraphale suggested and held out his hand.
To his surprise, the creature actually took it.
But he refused to join Aziraphale on his bed.
Which was fine.
As small as it was, it was still a step.
And Aziraphale was more than willing to go at any pace the creature so desired.
"I quite like holding your hand," he earnestly admitted, his lips curving into a smile when a raspy voice answered him from below.
"Me, too."