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[goodtobebad]

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[goodtobebad]

That wasn't charity, though.

Also, it was over two hundred years ago.

[ He raises an eyebrow at the angel. ]

I'm pretty sure you're what humans would call a hoarder.

[goodoldfashioned]

Well, I'd still give you full marks. And you could always give me chocolates now, if you like.

[Absolutely not hinting at anything, him. Nope.]

A what now?

[goodtobebad]

The gift loses something if it's been specifically asked for, don't you think?

[ Shakes his head. But of course, he will get the angel some chocolates, like, tomorrow. ]

A hoarder. You know. A human who collects way too many things. They hoard them.

[goodoldfashioned]

I'd like to think it doesn't. Knowing what someone else wants, that's not a bad thing.

[You know what else isn't a bad thing? More wine.]

I mean, I am sharing the books. They just can't. You know. Touch them. Or look at them too hard. Or buy them. But they can at least come into my shop and go, oh yes, there are books here.

[goodtobebad]

Allowing people to look at your hoard of books doesn't make you any less of a book hoarder.

[ Crowley rolls his eyes as he refills both of their wine glasses. ]

Luckily it's easy to figure out what you want, most of the time.

[goodoldfashioned]

Oh, thank you, dear.

[It's what you say when someone pours you wine, so hush.]

What else am I to do? Someone might take them home and spill coffee on them, the poor things.

[goodtobebad]

It's not like you've never spilled anything on any of your books.

[ He's just capable of miracling it away. ]

[goodoldfashioned]

[Gasp!] I would never! [Okay, maybe once or twice.]

And if I did, I could just, y'know. [He makes a waggly hand motion that appears to mean "miracle it clean."]

But it's better to just keep them from getting mucked around with in the first place.

[goodtobebad]

None of what you're saying in any way makes you sound like less of a hoarder.

[ Crowley is smirking, though. Honestly, he wouldn't have Aziraphale any other way. ]

[goodoldfashioned]

Right, well, just keep it under your hat, will you? I don't want to have more customers turning up browsing.

[Ugh. Customers. Aziraphale drinks some more wine at the thought of them.]

[goodtobebad]

I'm not advocating that you start actually trying to sell books, angel. I don't want customers interrupting our afternoons anymore than you do.

[ He raises his glass companionably. ]

But if we're going to take a nap together, I say we do it on a bed.

[goodoldfashioned]

Well, thank Somebody for that.

[Cheers!]

Oh-- Oh, right, the napping, yes. That's what all this was about, I remember now. Do we really need a bed, though? There's a couch right here and I'm already sitting on it.

[He thumps it a bit for demonstration.]

[goodtobebad]

[ Crowley is drinking his wine, hold on. ]

A bed is bigger and more comfortable for napping.

[goodoldfashioned]

A very valid point.

[He polishes off his current glass.]

But that'd mean standing up, and I don't like the way the floor's tilting at the moment.

[goodtobebad]

Hm.

[ Also a fair point. Crowley frowns a bit. ]

Bed's upstairs, right?

[goodoldfashioned]

Was, yes. Still is, too.

[goodtobebad]

Shouldn't be too difficult.

[ He's not that drunk, yet. So he just grips Aziraphale's arm and blinks, once, and... yep. There it is. The bed. ]

...This bed hasn't been used in a long time, huh.

[goodoldfashioned]

[The bed has an odd collection of pillows and blankets spread across it, chosen because they looked nifty at the time. Aziraphale still thinks they do. Look nifty, he means. Wow, even his internal monologue is a bit drunk.

Aziraphale also isn't in a particular hurry to separate from where Crowley's holding him.]

I use it sometimes, just mainly for storing things on top of. Or slightly to the side.

[Speaking of the bed, though, it does look very comfortable, and Aziraphale moves to sit on the edge of it like he's falling in slow motion, magnetically attracted.]

[goodtobebad]

[ Crowley idly snaps his fingers, to clear off any random items that aren't pillows - and also possibly dust. Otherwise, he's happy to just half-fall onto the bed. Oh. Hm. He snaps his fingers again, and the mattress becomes significantly more comfortable. ]

Hm. Naps. Let me show you angel.

[ He... well, he reaches out for Aziraphale to pull him closer. ]

[goodoldfashioned]

[He goes with the motion, loose-limbed. It takes a bit to sort out his elbows so they're not poking either of them. He ends up tucking himself into Crowley's side, sprawling almost.]

And I just... close my eyes and wait?

[Seems easy enough. But there might be a catch to it.]

[goodtobebad]

Yep. Get comfortable, and close your eyes. It's glorious.

[ As long as the angel isn't pulling away, he's going to keep him close. That's just how he is. ]

[goodoldfashioned]

[He does. Close his eyes, he means. And eventually, improbably, sleep happens.

SOME TIME LATER.

Aziraphale wakes up, shaking himself from some odd dream -- something about talking flamingos at a cocktail party???

Also, he's apparently gotten a bit clingy overnight. Something that humans call spooning, his hand gone a bit numb where it's been trapped to the bed. He doesn't really mind, and would probably start pressing soft kisses against whatever bits of Crowley he can reach, except he has the vague idea that he might wake Crowley up with his shifting and blinking, and he doesn't want to do that, so he goes very still for a bit and hopes for the best.]

[goodtobebad]

[ Crowley, of course, loves to sleep. It's very decadent, as far as he's concerned, and leaves him feeling lazy and sensual all at once.

Waking up with an angel in his arms does nothing to dissipate the feeling. There's an arm, here, little golden hairs along it, and he brushes his fingers over it lightly, to feel the softness. Yes, that's very nice indeed. ]

[goodoldfashioned]

[Oh, well, since Crowley's waking up a bit, he clearly won't mind if Aziraphale went back to his original plan and softly kisses him, his neck and his ear and probably a bit of his hair.]

We don't have to get up yet, do we?

[This, he suspects, is the danger of napping: once you started, it seemed very difficult to find a reason to leave the bed.]

[goodtobebad]

[ Oh. Oh, that's nice. Yes. Kisses are very nice. ]

Hngh. No. We don't. Don't stop.

[ That's not a danger! It's actually one of the best parts of being them, and not having jobs, and napping together! They could stay here for years if they wanted. ]