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neutral_omensDate: September 21st, 1999
Setting: Aziraphale's room
Status: Private - Crowley, Aziraphale
Summary: The Day After.
Some time after dawn, the angel found himself warm, cozy, and entirely content. He murmured something quietly, comfortable, and shifted closer to the warm object in his arms.
And then he opened his eyes.
At first all he saw was black, and he was confused. He blinked, sleepily, and then understood that the blackness tickled. He moved his hand to touch it, still feeling rather dreamy, and froze as the soft hair shivered.
"Um," he said, right before common sense and a memory of very, very recent events caught up with his mind and propelled him out of bed, making him trip over himself and his lame leg in an effort to get out of the bed quickly. He managed to fall into a heap on the floor of the other side.
Aziraphale watched the figure on the bed move restlessly with wide and terrified eyes, and then materialized his glasses with a barely audible "pop". He adjusted them when the figure fell back to sleep, and then took stock of himself.
Demon in his room? Yes. Demon in his bed? Yes. Compromising position? Yes. Hangover? No.
Oh dear.
The angel began to panic, and as he got to his feet, his pyjamas (terribly dishevelled) were replaced neatly with a fine tartan jacket and tan trousers, and his socks were exchanged for fuzzy slippers. Unfortunately, he got to his feet too hastily, and he had to grip the edge of the bed for support, thereby causing a small rocking force.
He paused, listening carefully for the soft breathing, and instead heard a quite distinct "Ngk."
Setting: Aziraphale's room
Status: Private - Crowley, Aziraphale
Summary: The Day After.
Some time after dawn, the angel found himself warm, cozy, and entirely content. He murmured something quietly, comfortable, and shifted closer to the warm object in his arms.
And then he opened his eyes.
At first all he saw was black, and he was confused. He blinked, sleepily, and then understood that the blackness tickled. He moved his hand to touch it, still feeling rather dreamy, and froze as the soft hair shivered.
"Um," he said, right before common sense and a memory of very, very recent events caught up with his mind and propelled him out of bed, making him trip over himself and his lame leg in an effort to get out of the bed quickly. He managed to fall into a heap on the floor of the other side.
Aziraphale watched the figure on the bed move restlessly with wide and terrified eyes, and then materialized his glasses with a barely audible "pop". He adjusted them when the figure fell back to sleep, and then took stock of himself.
Demon in his room? Yes. Demon in his bed? Yes. Compromising position? Yes. Hangover? No.
Oh dear.
The angel began to panic, and as he got to his feet, his pyjamas (terribly dishevelled) were replaced neatly with a fine tartan jacket and tan trousers, and his socks were exchanged for fuzzy slippers. Unfortunately, he got to his feet too hastily, and he had to grip the edge of the bed for support, thereby causing a small rocking force.
He paused, listening carefully for the soft breathing, and instead heard a quite distinct "Ngk."
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