goodtobebad | open post;

The sunlight doesn't bother the demon - black wings go a long way to blocking it out, after all - and he's really quite comfortable in the nest of blankets and pillows and angel he's made for himself. His body aches in certain places - he could miracle that away, but he quite likes the reminder of their rather vigorous activities last night.

It's getting whacked by a wing that threatens to ruin his lovely nap.

"Oy," he grumbles, shoving said wing aside as he cracks an eye open. "Sleeping here."

Aziraphale is reminded of two things: that he definitely didn't sober up before he fell asleep, and what happens when he wakes up after doing just that.

He makes some sort of noise, a grunt or an inaudible grumble, at having his wing pushed away like that. He bunches them up and tucks them down at his sides, attempting to block out the light. "We need new curtains." Is the less than lively and rather muffled comment that does come out.

"Nah," Crowley mumbles, shifting to wrap himself around the angel, his dark wings curling around both of them. "You didn't close 'em properly is all." He sniffs a bit into Aziraphale's hair, then blinks away a bit more sleep.

"Didn't you sober up last night?"

Ah, sweet, gentle darkness. He doesn't often appreciate it, but he does so now. Besides, Crowley's wings are quite soft.

The angel doesn't open his eyes, but at least his frown isn't quite as stern. He's still holding the pillow/possibly duvet in his arms, which do at least partially cover up his embarrassment. "I, hum." And, quieter: "I forgot to."

Crowley hums and runs gentle fingers through Aziraphale's hair. "I'm going to take that as a compliment," he murmurs eventually, sounding amused. "I'm just that good."

But he takes pity on the poor angel, and snaps his fingers, before kissing his forehead.

"How's that?"

His features relax and he sighs in relief. "Much better." He murmurs, finally opening his eyes.

(And Crowley might not be entirely wrong - last evening's activities may or may not have had a hand in making him not even think to sober up on time.)

Another calm sigh and he lets go of the pillow/not pillow, in favor of scooting closer to the demon. "Good morning, dear."

"Good morning." He makes no indication of moving his wings, at least for the moment, just continues to card fingers through Aziraphale's hair. "Hopefully you can at least remember how good last night was," he adds after a moment. "Then again, if you don't, we could always try to recreate it..."

Aziraphale tilts his head toward the touches, humming quietly and closing his eyes again. "I do remember." There is the faintest little smile to his lips, which he decidedly keeps subtle. " I do think you made quite sure I wouldn't forget..."

"Pity," Crowley says, then shifts a bit so he can nudge Aziraphale onto his stomach, wings outstretched for him to begin grooming. They're a bit rumpled.

"Maybe I should have you prove to me you remember," he suggests after a bit, clearly teasing. He's quite content where he is for the moment.

Those wings are definitely a bit more than rumpled. Still in better airs than they've been, of course, with the slightly more consistent grooming schedule they get now, but they seem to have taken a bit of a hit during the intense late night drunk canoodling session.

It takes a bit of doing, rolling over and moving his wings out of his way, but he settles down on his stomach and on a small surviving pile of pillows, wings stretched out toward the sides of the bed.

"How?" Sounding quite comfortable and looking quite spoiled. "Will you quiz me on the evening's proceedings?"

"Suppose I could," Crowley says easily, straightening feathers here and there, rubbing out kinks in the muscles.

"You could do to me what I did to you, that'd be a good quiz," he adds.

The white feathers fluff up a bit as the angel yawns against the back of one of his hands, though he's soon resting down on the pillows again.

"Oh?" With that hint of a smile again, unseen. "And what was that?"

"Nice try, angel," Crowley says with a smirk, leaning down to nip gently at the back of his neck. "That'd defeat the point of the test."

Aziraphale hums and tilts his head forward, faint movements rather lazy. "Revisions are always helpful."

Besides the mess that comes with wings bumping and rubbing into things, one or two of his primaries look a bit bent. Accidents happen, it seems...

"Tch," Crowley murmurs, pretending to be disapproving as he straightens out those bent primaries. "You should be more careful." As if he's not equally as responsible.

"Not that I'd change a thing about last night..."

Occasionally, they remind each other that they're not human, and thus are capable of things that humans aren't. Always fun, that.

"I suppose if you really can't remember, we can do something else," he adds.

As much as they love doing many things the human way, as it were, there's a lot of fun to be had when they remember that they are not. They might well be the first ones, if not only, of their kid to go about exploring those possibilities in this way.

And if that comes with a flurry of feathers and a few accidental miracles occurring in the surrounding area, well...

The angel settles comfortably on then pillow pile, wing twitching and fluffing up a bit, ticklish as Crowley goes about straightening things.

"Something else?" He glances over his shoulder. "Like what?"

"Like this," Crowley says, smiling faintly as he moves from Aziraphale's wings to his back, massaging along the place where one meets the other.

"Or anything else you feel like."

"Oh." Aziraphale shivers for just a moment, once again made all the more obvious when his feathers fluster up just a tad. Or maybe his wings are just fluffy.

He hums, resting his head back down. "Yes, that's quite lovely too..."

"Mm-hm," Crowley hums his agreement. The angel underneath him is quite lovely. The lovely soft feathers, and the gorgeous skin, and the muscles underneath, he never wants to stop running his hands over every inch of him.

And his lips, as he brushes a kiss to the back of Aziraphale's neck. They don't have anywhere they need to be, so he's going to keep doing this as long as the angel keeps making those little sounds of pleasure.

The angel smiles, turning his head just barely. It's not just the physical sensation of someone putting so much care in making him comfortable and spoiling him as such - the demon's love and devotion is most of it, really. But he surely takes no insignificant amount of pleasure out of the first part.

He glances toward his side and finds one fallen black feather, which he picks up between his fingers. "You're quite right, though, dear. Perhaps we should be more careful..."

That's without counting the fact that the flowers in some neighbor's garden have entirely changed color, among other things.

It's true, Aziraphale wouldn't even need his angelic senses to feel the amount of love radiating from Crowley constantly these days - it's an almost-physical presence, especially here, in their bedroom, in total privacy when he can focus all his attention on Aziraphale, on loving him in every possible way.

"More careful of what, exactly?" he asks, almost curious. "Ripping a hole in the space-time continuum? If that was going to happen, I imagine it already would've, the first time we made love."

It energizes him, that love, powers him through just about anything. There were some days, after Armaggedon, when things were quiet and he was alone, where he wondered if he could handle going forward without such a big part of his life since existence - losing his connection with Heaven, even when he finally had to come to terms with how things really were, was a the kind of change he could never have expected to go through. But, now, he's just so much happier. So much more fulfilled.

Aziraphale huffs a laugh, twirling the black feather between his fingers. "Nothing quite that drastic." Or, maybe. Who knows? They weren't even sure they wouldn't end up exploding, somehow, back then. "But there was that one time, with Mrs. Harris' lawn gnomes."

"That was all you, love," Crowley says with a crooked smile. "How was I to know doing that thing with my tongue would make you scream that way?"

Well, that certainly makes him blush. Which would be perfectly hidden by the way he's laying, if the tiny feathers by his shoulder blades didn't bristle up a bit.

"Yes, well." Oh that demon knew exactly what he was doing then, he's sure. (And perhaps he would like him to do it again.). "To this day she still believes her lawn ornaments gained life and massacred her zinnias."

"I'm sure she thinks it was local kids playing a prank," Crowley says, and presses a kiss to a particularly sensitive spot right where wing meets back.

"So should I not do the thing with my tongue anymore?" he suggests, knowing what the answer will be.

amazing

angels are beautiful, graceful creatures

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