goodtobebad | open post;

Hmm? Oh.

[ He flips onto his side, and then onto his stomach, and finds that none of it is as comfortable as when he's on his back. ]

I do recall there's supposed to be some sort of lullaby portion, or a storytelling part.

You used to sing to Warlock.

That's only for kids, I think.

[ His ears go red. ]

You don't want me to sing to you.

Oh. All right.

Yes, of course, that's too childish.

[ He shifts in bed, and closes his eyes, and then seems frustrated that he hasn't fallen asleep yet. ]

What if I sing?

[ Crowley breathes out a sigh, and turns to face the angel. ]

"That certain night, the night we met,
there was magic abroad in the air.
There were angels dining at the Ritz,
and a nightingale sang in Berkeley Square."

[ Well. He's not a terrible singer. ]

[ Oh, that's so sweet. It does relax him, and he puts a smile on his face as he listens to Crowley sing.

But.

Even after a few minutes, he's not asleep. ]

Crowley, are you awake?

[ He whispers this loudly. ]

[ Crowley sighs. ]

It can take more than a few minutes, angel. Just lie back, relax, and try to clear your head.

Okay.

[ He tries again, breathing in and out. ]

The more I try to clear my head, the more I'm thinking about! Is that normal?

[ Crowley groans. This might be worse torture than anything he experienced in Hell. ]

Try, I dunno. Reciting a story to yourself in your head. Or - count sheep! Humans are always going on about counting sheep to fall asleep.

Well, all right.

[ He counts up all the sheep that he can remember, but then gets stuck on one instance. ]

Do you remember how many there were that Job had, or were those only goats?

[ Yes, he misunderstood the directive and is recounting all the individual sheep they have ever known for six thousand years. ]

What? I don't -

[ Crowley groans. ]

I don't think you're supposed to be counting actual sheep, angel. It -

[ He scrubs a hand over his face. ]

Why don't you just miracle yourself a book from your shop, and sit and read it for a while?

Then I wouldn't fall asleep, Crowley, I'd just be up all night reading.

I'm dreadfully sorry. I'll be quiet. Then you can sleep, at least.

[ He dramatically crosses his arms over his chest, and tries to get some shut-eye. ]

Fine.

[ This was Aziraphale's idea, but now almost out of spite, Crowley is determined to show him how it's done, or something.

He falls asleep pretty easily, once Aziraphale stays quiet for more than a few minutes - he knows how to do it, and it's simple enough for him by now. Of course, once asleep, his body relaxes, no longer conscious enough to be concerned about what position he's in, or how much space he's taking up. Never having shared a bed with another being, he's used to spreading out, and perhaps some serpentine bit of his nature is drawn towards Aziraphale's warmth, because it doesn't take long for Crowley's face to wind up pressed into the angel's side as he snoozes. ]

[ Honestly, the warmth of Crowley snaking up to Aziraphale helps, and it puts him in a relaxing mood, letting him rest as he breathes in Crowley's scent, sweetly smiling as he drifts off into dream.

And he dreams of such a lovely thing, of him and Crowley, having a picnic, Crowley tucked up against his form, as Aziraphale eats a sandwich and they sit back to listen to the birds and buzz of bees fly past.

Overall, it's a lovely first sleep. ]

[ As Crowley sleeps, he progressively winds himself around Aziraphale more closely. The bed is comfortable, but somehow, Aziraphale is more comfortable still, and when he eventually wakes, probably several hours later, it takes him a moment to even realize what's happened. Their legs are tangled. He has an arm slung around the angel's middle. His face is pressed to Aziraphale's shoulder.

Well, that's - awkward. Aziraphale didn't ask to be wrapped up in a demon while he slept. A demon who is relaxed enough to be a bit scaly, even.

Carefully, Crowley attempts to extricate himself from the angel, trying not to disturb or wake him. ]

[ Aziraphale stirs, and then wakes up, wrapping his arms around Crowley gently as he whispers: ]

Don't fuss. I was having the loveliest dream.

[ And then, half-asleep, nuzzles into the demon's neck. ]

How do I go back?

[ Crowley freezes, shocked into some kind of paralysis when the angel's arms go around him. Now they're both thoroughly wrapped up in each other, and he - he doesn't know what to do with this. It's all he's ever wanted, but does Aziraphale even realize - ? ]

S - sssorry. Don't, uh. Don't think you can go back to the ssssame dream.

[ He hisses that quietly into Aziraphale's hair. ]

Mm, shame.

[ But he's snoozing away anyway, holding onto Crowley tightly, nuzzling into his hair which is so soft and smells both lovely and infernal. Like a smoldering ember.

It's very comfortable, and he finds himself easily breathing slowly again, drifting in and out of silly short bouts of sleep as he tries and fails to wake up. ]

Are we still in bed? I think I dreamed away the day...

[ After a certain point, Crowley finds himself fully awake, while Aziraphale dozes. He can't help it; being like this, holding him like this, seeing him so relaxed, so willing to be vulnerable with him, it feels... precious. Something that could easily be taken away from him. Crowley feels the need to commit it to memory - the sight, sound, smell and feel of Aziraphale in his arms. Because it'll probably never happen again.

So he hasn't been sleeping for a while by the time Aziraphale asks that question. ]

Mm. Maybe. Does it matter? If the - if the dreams were nice.

I suppose it doesn't.

[ He slowly wakes up this time, actually, surprised at first when he's so close to Crowley. ]

Oh, I'm - so sorry, I don't know how I... Is this uncomfortable?

[ Because it's quite comfortable for him. It makes him feel all warm, like he'd just been stretching out as a cat does under the sun. ]

[ Oh, there it is. Aziraphale has been so relaxed, so unconcerned, and now he's fully awake and he's going to immediately regret this and never do it again. Crowley feels it like a sinking weight in his chest. ]

No.

[ No, it's not uncomfortable. But he does - reluctantly, slowly - start to extricate himself from the angel. ]

's my fault. I get kind of snakey sometimes - bit cold-blooded -

Oh.

Well, I do hope it's warm, then.

[ But it doesn't seem to bother Crowley much, which is just fine by Aziraphale. ]

I don't mind it. If you... want to stay. Warm. That is.

[ He is warm. And soft. And he smells like - well, like Aziraphale, which is the best, most comforting smell in the world as far as Crowley is concerned.

Eventually, he settles again, head sort of half-tucked up under Aziraphale's chin. ]

...You sure?

[ Touching at all isn't really in their usual repertoire. And this is - and he must feel - Crowley is trying not to spiral here. ]

[ Well, Aziraphale thinks it's comfortable. And Crowley is so... sweet, like this. Warm. ]

I'm sure. As long as you're comfortable, dear.

[ He smiles into Crowley's hair. It just makes him so soft. ]

I'm fine. You're the one snuggled up to - to - well. To a demon.

[ He mutters that into Aziraphale's chest, almost as though he doesn't want him to hear it. ]

I'm a bit pokey, is all.

Well, you were a snake.

And I know you're a demon, dear. But you're rather comfortable.

[ He grins and snuggles into Crowley. ]

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