This time it's Aziraphael who laughs - brief, yes, and quiet, but real.

"I've no intention of doing so," he assures Crowley. "I may even sleep in myself."

Cautiously, he turns his hand over beneath Crowley's, so that he can rub his own thumb slowly along the length of the demon's. It's warm, he notes, but perhaps not as warm as it should be.

"Though," he adds, as if as an afterthought, "perhaps we might compromise and retire early? You know how it is when one is old and tired."

And they're covered for tonight.

They're covered for as long as they need to be.