domestic omens

The storm is over. It has been so comfortable to lie in Aziraphale’s arms, listening to the heavy raindrops drumming against the window, until falling asleep. But it was hours ago, as Crowley can tell by the feeble light of dawn creeping into the bedroom, and now he feels his left side and arm going numb. He needs to change position. A couple nights haven’t been enough for him to get used to sleeping in the same bed with someone  - someone… Aziraphale, no less… it’s still hard to believe – and to reducing his movements.

He suppresses a sigh. It feels so good to snuggle into Aziraphale’s heat. And he doesn’t want to wake him up. Crowley carefully extricates himself from the soft arms and looks at Aziraphale’s peaceful face. His angel is breathing heavily with his mouth open. Crowley smiles fondly before turning over. Okay. A few minutes on this side and he will return to-

With a sleepy groan of protest, Aziraphale shifts to nestle against Crowley’s back, slipping an arm around his waist.

Mmh. Yes. This is nice, too. Very… nice…