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[a_fell]

It's late when he arrives upstairs, so his knock is quiet and hesitant. When there's no answer, he opens the door (it might have been locked, but that is easily circumvented) to find Crowley sound asleep on top of the bedclothes.

He's quiet crossing over to the bed, and his movements are every bit as hesitant as his knock had been. He looks her over from head to toe; she seems to be breathing normally, hissing very slightly, and she's obviously in one piece aside from the empty - and half-empty - Atlantean bottles in the vicinity of the room's two armchairs.

Aziraphael lets out a small sigh - somewhere between relief and despair - and cups his hands over Crowley's head. He can't clear the Atlantean out, but at least he can ease the hangover that's sure to come.

A few minutes later, after an intense internal debate, he settles in one of the armchairs. At first, he turns to a discarded paperback for distraction; it's sufficiently terrible that, two chapters in, it finds itself suddenly replaced by a volume of poetry from Aziraphael's back room. But not even Neruda can hold the angel's attention for long, not when every few lines, his gaze flicks anxiously to Crowley's face instead. Eventually, resignedly, he sets the book down again, and whiles away the time until she wakes picking at his new manicure and trying not to stare.

Comments

[aj_crawley]

The edge of the bed, when properly considered, is not really an ideal place for slumping. Nevertheless: as the angel's arms settle around her and she leans into his solid warmth, the knots in Crowley's shoulders back stomach begin to loosen, and the tight lines of tension in her neck to melt nearly all away, until slumping against Aziraphael is more or less what she's doing.

She wants to -

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

He's happy enough just sitting there, breathing deeply and watching that strand fall across her face so that he can move it... again... and again.... Eventually he's not focused on moving it so much as running fingers down her hair, marvelling at its length.

It never tangles, despite the fact that she just woke up. It wouldn't dare.

[aj_crawley]

It's quite appallingly relaxing, enough that she might well fall asleep again, vertical or no.

After a few moments, this meandering train of thought leads her to:

"How long've you been here?"

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

"A few hours, I suppose," he murmurs. "I didn't want to wake you." He tries to look at her, but at this angle it's futile without some truly miraculous movements.

"Still tired?"

[aj_crawley]

"A few hours?" Crowley echoes - and though it's not so slow as to be called a delayed reaction, quite, there's certainly a lag. One just long enough to answer Aziraphael's question.

She leans back a very little, peering up at him with one eyebrow raised.

"You know, some people might call that creepy."

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

"It wasn't creepy," he insists, though he doesn't have any sort of evidence to back this up.

"I was just-- here. It's certainly not the first time I've been in a room where you were asleep."

[aj_crawley]

"Well, obviously," she says, settling her head back down against his shoulder. "Anyway, I'm a demon, I'm supposed to approve of creepy. On general principle."

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

"Yes," he says - into her hair once again, so it's a little muffled.

"I'm not entirely certain I can do well at 'creepy.' Perhaps I can be some type of hermit."

He thinks about it.

"One who goes out to eat occasionally, of course."

[aj_crawley]

"You do probably stay in enough to qualify."



Slowly, as though she'd quite like to pretend it isn't happening at all, one of Crowley's hands slides out of her lap and fists tightly in the fabric of Aziraphael's trousers.

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

"I'm not sure that just staying in is enough to qualify as 'creepy,' though," he says, sounding thoughtful.

"I think small children are supposed to be afraid to approach your home, and thanks to Adam you'd think I was running a children's book store. It's like they restock themselves."

His gloomy tone is moderated somewhat by one hand sliding down her arm to rest on the one she's moved to his leg.

[aj_crawley]

Crowley considers and discards a joke about choirboys. Perhaps, she decides, now is not quite the time.

Instead, she simply says, "I meant qualify as a hermit, twit."

The words aren't entirely distinct; eyes closed, she's turned her face a little further into Aziraphael's shoulder.

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

"And hermits aren't always creepy, I suppose," he says, almost regretfully.

He still can't see her face, so he gives up any pretence of trying and rests his head sideways on hers. His thumb starts stroking over the back of her hand.

"Would you like to come home?" he asks. "Maybe sleep a little longer? I can't imagine you slept very well as you were, on top of the blankets."

[aj_crawley]

(She swallows.)

"I don't think you slept at all," Crowley replies.

It's a little accusing. It's also a 'yes'.

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

"Not exactly, no," he says, "but I don't have to, of course."

He considers - or pretends to consider, anyway. He's feeling much less hesitant than he did while Crowley was still unconscious.

"Still, a few hours' rest wouldn't go amiss. I find these days that I miss it when I don't, even if it does leave fewer hours to get things done in the day."

It isn't the sleep he misses, exactly, but it will do for an explanation.

[aj_crawley]

The thick knit of Aziraphael's jumper smells like he does: tea and book-dust and that smell you get after rain (when the wet green grass soaks through your shoes and socks, and the pond in St. James' smooths out again, as the ducks, placidly indignant, glide back out onto the water).


She asks, "What's it like out?"

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

"It's, er."

It had been late when he left, and in his hurry he honestly hadn't noticed. Predictably, he'd also gone without a coat beyond the tweed jacket with the feather pinned inside. It's chilly, he imagines.

"It wasn't raining," he says, fairly certain that this, at least, was the case. "When I left, I mean. Perhaps we could borrow a coat from the bar."

[aj_crawley]

"Or," she murmurs, "we could stay here and face the elements when we're not tired and sleepy."

The prospect of Aziraphael's bed (or indeed, her own) does sound fairly wonderful, but really. Ugh.

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

"Or we could do that," he agrees.

It's not a bed he's used to, but the room is warm and windowless. He drops a kiss onto Crowley's head, mainly because he can.

"Under the blanket this time, though."

[aj_crawley]

"If you like," Crowley says generously, Aziraphael's jumper concealing the lopsided grin that spreads across her face. "I'll steal them all in any case, but it'll probably take me a few minutes."

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

"You will," he agrees darkly. "How fortunate that I've worked out a way to compensate."

Now that sleep has been mentioned, he realises that he's feeling more tired than he thought. He briefly considers removing his shoes, but that would involve moving and he's not quite willing to make that sort of commitment.

[aj_crawley]

Fortunately, it occurs to Crowley after a few moments that Aziraphael can't very well relocate with her leaning (quite heavily) against him. Sighing at the injustices of the world, she pushes herself upright just long enough to scoot back against the pillows.

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

He starts to follow, then turns around to untie his shoes and leave them where they fall.

"Covers," he reminds her as he crawls (rather quickly) up toward the pillows.

[aj_crawley]

Shoes, she thinks. I love you, I love you -

She stops him in his tracks with a foot (gently planted) on his chest.

"I've already slept in my clothes," she reminds him in turn. "But aren't you morally opposed to getting rid of creases the easy way?"

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

"Oh. I suppose so," he says, looking down at himself, then rather critically up at Crowley.

"Sleeping in one's clothes can't be very restful, either. Wrinkles or no wrinkles."

[aj_crawley]

"Warmer," she points out. "Though I 'spose if I have you here with me, it balances out."