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[goodtobebad]

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[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. ]

[goodoldfashioned]

Oh, good. I rather hoped so.

[He's definitely starting to see the appeal, yes. He'll continue lazing about and smooching Crowley, since it's very hard to argue with smooches.]

[goodtobebad]

[ Smooches are very nice, especially, Crowley notes, angelic ones. And perhaps he lets his hands wander a bit, too, running down his sides, undoing some buttons so he can get to the layers underneath. No purpose to it, aside from the pleasure of touching and kissing. ]

Perhaps I should've been trying to tempt you to something else.

[goodoldfashioned]

Mind the buttons, please!

[It's just a little tricky sewing them back on if they pop off, is all. He's got no objections to the other bit, and his hands map out the thin gap where Crowley's shirt's ridden up in return.]

[goodtobebad]

'm not popping any of your buttons, angel...

[ Crowley huffs with no real anger. Stop being so fussy! ]

[goodoldfashioned]

Right, that's what I'm, er, making sure of.

[It's a bit tricky to talk, what with all the kissing and such. So, he decides not to really other trying for, oh, a good while, to really, er, apply himself to his craft, as it were.

Or, in plain words: make out with Crowley like they're teenagers with a curfew.]

[goodtobebad]

Mmhmm.

[ He's glad to distract the angel. Making out like teenagers is definitely something Crowley enjoys doing. They could literally do this for hours, if they want! Because they don't have curfews. ]

[goodoldfashioned]

[Aziraphale smiles, pleased as punch with the proceedings. There's a thrum of excitement building in him, he wiggles a bit from it, and before he has time to second guess himself--

He pulls a card out from behind Crowley's ear. Well, attempts to, at least, as there's quite a bit of fumbling involved.]

Is this your card, Crowley?

[Bastard.]

[goodtobebad]

[ There is some minor startled fumbling as Crowley tries to figure out what Aziraphale is doing - breaking out of his lustful haze to do so is annoying, to say the least. And then he focuses on the object... ]

You bastard. I can't... why...