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safe in your arms

Summary:

Crowley has trouble sleeping, and Aziraphale has an idea.

Notes:

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Crowley isn’t cranky, and would extraneously object to that description. Strictly speaking, he doesn’t even need to sleep, so feeling cranky over a lack of sleep would be ridiculous. This is just something that happens from time to time, his corporation stops cooperating when it comes to his desire to relax, and then he would toss and turn without being able to shut off his brain. Speaking of turning, he nearly falls off when he does so.

“Are you quite comfortable there, my dear?” Aziraphale asks, sounding slightly concerned.

Crowley looks down the edge of the bookshelf, which isn’t even the worst place he tried to sleep that week. He’s running out of options of places to try in their cottage, and none have worked so far.

Somehow, he does manage to push down all the crankiness that he isn’t feeling and doesn’t answer that obviously he isn’t. “Not really, but I’m having trouble sleeping, angel,” Crowley says, which does feel weird to say, but they have promised each other honesty and openness into their second, now more definitive retirement.

Talking about things is doing wonders for their ability to actually solve problems, but he still feels weird about all of that. Old habits, he supposes.

“Well, you did manage to sleep just fine a couple of days ago,” Aziraphale says, and Crowley can practically see the gears turning inside his head. “Oh, I do have an idea, but come down here, I won’t talk to you like a cat over furniture.”

Crowley hisses at the characterisation, but he does get down, pulling his blanket along as he stands in front of Aziraphale. It’s only because he’s curious that he does so, as he doesn’t know what Aziraphale might suggest. It’s true that slept for a bit a few days ago, under the warm sunlight, as he had sat beside Aziraphale to wait for him to finish his book so they could go out to dinner. He’s not sure which of these circumstances Aziraphale might try to replicate.

“Your idea, angel?” Crowley prompts, and maybe he does sound something that’s a bit close to cranky, but that’s just the way his voice is.

Aziraphale takes his hand, and that is quite soothing. Crowley has long since liked holding hands with Aziraphale, but they didn’t have much of a chance to do that before. He particularly likes that it’s something that they do so casually now.

“I think you just need a good cuddle. You slept perfectly well with your head on my lap, even though your legs were hanging off the sofa. So, what will it be, the sofa again or the bed?” Aziraphale says, so perfectly content in his conclusion that he doesn’t even wait for Crowley to agree or disagree to it.

Crowley almost protests that they don’t cuddle, realising that they also didn’t casually hold hands until a little while ago, and that demons don’t need cuddles, realising that he doesn’t care anymore about seeming to be a good demon. With those out of the way, he can’t really see any fault in Aziraphale’s suggestion.

“Sofa is too small, so I guess bed,” he says, and lets Aziraphale lead him there.

As Aziraphale doesn’t sleep, preferring to tuck in on his favourite reading chair with a warm blanket and a good book, the bed is essentially Crowley’s, but he finds that he doesn’t mind Aziraphale’s presence there at all. There’s something remarkably comforting about having someone in his life who understands him well enough to find what he needs when Crowley isn’t sure himself, and offer it to him without need of explanation. He doesn’t know what that would be in human terms, but Aziraphale calls it ineffable, and as much as Crowley might pretend to protest, he concedes a certain logic to it.

“How are you most comfortable, dear?” Aziraphale asks, giving Crowley enough space to adjust himself in bed.

Crowley lays on his side, with his back to Aziraphale. “Hold me?” he asks, and Aziraphale obliges.

Suddenly, he feels a certain anxiety that he didn’t know he was holding lift from his chest, feeling safe in Aziraphale’s arms. Although he can’t see them in the physical plane, he can almost feel Aziraphale’s wings protectively over him. This time, when he closes his eyes, sleep is quick to take him.