[There's the faint pop as the book vanishes. Aziraphale was not like Crowley when he slept; where the demon might start off on the bed, would shift about in his sleep, sometimes to the point he'd wind up on the walls or the ceiling. Even at his most peaceful, he'd roll over a couple times.
Aziraphale hadn't budged an so much as an inch.
So when he feels the angel's hold on his hand tighten, when his knuckles are pressed to the soft give of Aziraphale's cheeks and the brush of his lips, he wonders if his friend has woken up.
Or at least he wonders that after his thoughts cycle through a panicked flurry of disjointed, incoherent nonsense that generally involve the words 'lips' and 'hand' and 'kiss???'. It's all very demonic, rest assured.
Eventually he brushes it all off as Aziraphale either still in the throes of some pleasant dream or in that barely-there state between sleeping and waking and not something he would ever do while conscious.]
...Good morning, angel.
[He tries for cheery and lands roughly in that vicinity, but there's something choked in his voice because Crowley is presently in the process of swallowing down that massive surge of want that rose suddenly from the very pits of his lightly charred soul.
He draws his wing aside, just enough to peek at Aziraphale's waking face.]
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Date: 2023-08-14 07:32 am (UTC)Aziraphale hadn't budged an so much as an inch.
So when he feels the angel's hold on his hand tighten, when his knuckles are pressed to the soft give of Aziraphale's cheeks and the brush of his lips, he wonders if his friend has woken up.
Or at least he wonders that after his thoughts cycle through a panicked flurry of disjointed, incoherent nonsense that generally involve the words 'lips' and 'hand' and 'kiss???'. It's all very demonic, rest assured.
Eventually he brushes it all off as Aziraphale either still in the throes of some pleasant dream or in that barely-there state between sleeping and waking and not something he would ever do while conscious.]
...Good morning, angel.
[He tries for cheery and lands roughly in that vicinity, but there's something choked in his voice because Crowley is presently in the process of swallowing down that massive surge of want that rose suddenly from the very pits of his lightly charred soul.
He draws his wing aside, just enough to peek at Aziraphale's waking face.]
Sleep well...?