It depends, perhaps, on the definition of 'relaxing'; every time Crowley thinks he's found a moment of stillness, a moment to centre himself and maybe try and actually breathe, Aziraphael does something that has him t-twisting his fingers into the bedsheets, taut and trembling.
He isn't loud.
(His forehead rests in the crook of his elbow; if there's a sound from him now, it's muffled in the rumpled duvet.)
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2008-12-31 06:44 am (UTC)He isn't loud.
(His forehead rests in the crook of his elbow; if there's a sound from him now, it's muffled in the rumpled duvet.)