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It was probably the quiet, gentle and romantic moment Aziraphale had been waiting for the last sixty years (practically since the church bombing) but, instead of fully enjoying it, he was trying to not freak out.
It wasn't because Crowley was softly snoring on his couch with a little smile on his lips: that had happened many times before (and the angel was sure it would also happen in the future).
The "problem" was that the demon wasn't using his usual cushion to rest his head on: at that moment, Crowley was hugging a pillow that shouldn't exist at all.
It was all Aziraphale's fault. Or, to be more precise, it was due to his incoming heavenly evaluation for the Great Jubilee.
The angel had been nervous for the whole week and, since he didn't want to receive another low score about his wings, he had started to preen them. He had straightened his vanes and removed any loose feather he could find. At first he had just dropped them on his desk but, when they had become a little pile, he looked for something to store them in before getting rid of all of them.
Remembering his customer's tip, the angel found a pillowcase with an unstitched seam that could fit the bill. It worked like a charm, no loose feather flying everywhere in the shop, until he heard a merry jingle from his doorbell.
"Let's eat this till they're hot, angel. We'll work later."
The angel froze: he took more time to tidy up his wings and Crowley had already arrived for their meeting. Aziraphale, like any sensible being on this planet, shoved his full pillowcase under the sofa.
Then, huffing like a locomotive, he sprinted to the kitchenette and hastily prepared dishes, cutleries, glasses and a nice bottle of red wine.
Crowley didn't look like he had noticed the angel had set the table in a hurry but he made an appreciative noise at the sight of the red wine (it was one of his favourite).
They had a lovely dinner together followed by a very productive and pleasant meeting to compare their notes. They have also toasted many times to their successful operations.
That meant Crowley and Aziraphale were rather drunk and the angel, as usual, had proposed to the demon to spend the night at his bookshop sleeping on the sofa.
It looked like everything was fine.
Until they looked for a cushion and no one could be found over the sofa. Or the table. Or over some books.
Crowley was about to miracle one when he, under Aziraphale's horrified gaze, looked under the sofa and found the pillow with the angelic feathers.
"Oopsie doopsie! This pillow is open: it would have been a disaster if I shook it more."
In Aziraphale's opinion, the resurfacing pillow was already a disaster.
"I-I-I'm sorry it must have broken: let me put this awa-"
The demon snapped his fingers and the pillow was miraculously mended.
"Thank you?" The angel murmured hesitantly, while he saw Crowley fluffing the pillow and putting it under his head. The demon looked very pleased with that arrangement.
Aziraphale almost discorporated in that exact moment.
"If I start snoring and annoying you, kick me out," the demon said with a mischievous grin before he fell asleep in exactly six seconds.
If in that moment Crowley could be the image of serenity, the angel was instead the embodiment of the anxiousness.
Aziraphale didn't know what he should really do, apart from fiddling with his ring.
He should have warned Crowl before he took it. Or at least made an excuse to keep it away from the demon (not because he feared something evil from him but for "keeping up appearances").
He could also miraculously substitute the current pillow with another one in his bookshop, without waking him up.
But Aziraphale didn't have the heart to do that: Crowley was sleeping with such a peaceful expression on his face it would have been a pity to disturb him. Especially since he was hugging that pillow so firmly.
The angel, after gently tucking Crowley in a tartan blanket, sat at his desk to read something (it wasn't so easy because he was often distracted by the sight at his left).
The next morning, the demon woke up with a huge yawn: "It had been ages since I slept so well: that pillow does miracles to my head! Five stars out of five."
Aziraphale stammered: "I… I-I'm glad you liked it"
"Breakfast?" The demon proposed (as a thank you for the night).
Aziraphale agreed, both because he was peckish and because he could flee the embarrassing situation.
When the angel came back, he had to decide what he should do with that buggering pillow.
He fretted for a couple of hours, debating if it would be better disposing of that (like miracling it into the sun) or keeping it for "special occasions".
In the meanwhile he had already picked up the pillow, opened the other seam (not the repaired one), removed the stiffer feathers, added some of his softer ones and miracles it whole again.
Aziraphale reasoned: "I shouldn't waste all my work, should I? I'll just give Crowley this pillow only if he'll ask for it. I wonder if he'll remember it…"
But the demon remembered it well and he often looked for it.
At first, the angel gave him the pillow only if Crowley asked for it. However, soon Aziraphale offered it whenever the demon looked like he needed a good night of sleep (like when they discussed their plan to thwart Armageddon).
Only after their failed execution Aziraphale took enough courage to reveal what was in that pillow.
"...and you think I never knew that? - Crowley asked with a blush, hugging his soft pillow - I know what you smell like, angel. I just couldn't say it out loud. Or reciprocate."
Aziraphale blushed when the demon gave him another pillow he took from a box: the angel couldn't see inside the tartan cloth but he was sure it was full of black soft feathers.
They both make themselves comfortable on the sofa with their pillows and cuddle the whole night.
Finally Crowley and Aziraphale could havet heir quiet, gentle and romantic night.