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    Summary

    Aziraphale has fantasies about Crowley while he's sleeping but is too nervous to bring them up to the demon.

    Azirphale padded back into the lounge and set a mug of steaming tea in front of Crowley’s face. He gazed down at Crowley entirely slack and relaxed on the rug by the window. He cherished basking in the sight of Crowley, letting his eyes climb over every inch of him.

    Crowley slowly cracked his eyes and was treated to the sight of the steaming mug and behind it, Aziraphale’s heated gaze boring into him.

    Aziraphale blushed, “Oh, dear I had thought you were sleeping.”

    “Nope, sorry to disappoint,” Crowley smiled.

    Language:
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