(Untitled)

[aj_crawley]

It's Christmas morning, and the darkness provided by the blinds isn't quite complete. It's dark outside, too, but the faint orange glow of streetlights bounces off the thin rime of not-quite-snow crusting over London and filters in around the edges of Crowley's bedroom window. It's not completely quiet, either - every so often a brighter flare of

Comments

[a_fell]

Aziraphael comes awake with a start and a gasp, certain that something critical has been forgotten. An adjustment he'd meant to make, or some tiny but incredibly significant modification to the-- oh. He props one elbow underneath himself, having half-risen from the mattress in his panic, and gathers his scattered wits. Crowley's bedroom, quiet and mostly dark, warm under the blankets (almost uncomfortably so, but he can ignore it for a bit longer if he shifts one leg out) and Crowley himself fast asleep beside him, slight frown in place and naked eyes tightly closed. He can just make out the circles still present underneath them, even in this light

[aj_crawley]

Crowley shifts a little, disturbed by the motion of the mattress, but it's not enough to wake him. Instead, after a moment's snuffling into the pillow, he only curls closer beneath Aziraphael's arm, cool fingers unconsciously seeking out the safety of the angel's skin - the warmth of his side, and the heat hidden between his back and the fine cotton sheets.

The tip of his nose brushes against Aziraphael's shoulder. That's a little cold, too.

[a_fell]

He lifts his arm very slightly so that Crowley can curl in, trying not to let the fretting that tends to define him gain a toehold. It's just that Crowley is usually so much warmer, to the point that the angel often spends a good portion of their time in bed seeking escape from the heat.

His lips rest unmoving at Crowley's hairline, which as usual makes it difficult to sustain any sort of logical thought. The weight of his arm falls onto Crowley's waist again, and his fingers press just slightly against Crowley's back as though to pull him closer. As soon as the demon wakes up, he reasons, the unnatural warmth will return.

[aj_crawley]

In the corner of the room, out of arm's reach, the smug red digits of Crowley's clock glow faintly, the colon marking the minutes from the hour pulsing away like a little heartbeat.

The thick feather duvet rustles softly with their movements, slight though they are, and Crowley sighs in his sleep.