Aziraphale was broken out of his reverie by Crowley's words, suddenly directed at him. "Hmm?" he said, blinking, and turned to the demon, who looked as exhausted as Aziraphale felt.
"I know, my dear," he replied, because what else could they do but stay? "I-" His nerve faltered here, and it seemed stupid because he'd already killed a creature tonight, wiped its existence from Everywhere... what problem could simply asking to stay with Crowley be?
"It'll be cold," he murmured instead, checking John's blankets and making sure he was tucked in. He kept his hands hidden in his sleeves as he did this. "I- I'll just wash this off, shall I?"
Crowley nodded, settling down against the pillows even as Aziraphale turned away, heading to a nearby sink. It was a quick scrub, as he contemplated the state of his fingernails and tried to ignore how that much blood got there. His clothes were a loss, he decided, but couldn't quite bring himself to care.
The silence of the wing was deafening, as Crowley settled down, nearly asleep, on the selfsame bed. Aziraphale chanced a last look at John, and sat down on the edge Crowley's bed, watching the man sleep.
Crowley shifted, restless, as Aziraphale silently toed off his shoes. "You realize," he whispered softly, as he curled into Crowley, snuggling up against him, "that if John wakes up first, why... he'll roll his eyes at us."
There was the shadow of a smile on Crowley's face - he could barely tell, dark as it was, and it was more felt than seen. There was the barest flinch as his own hands brushed Crowley's skin, and a curiously slow hand wrapped around him. Aziraphale laid his head against the deep breathing chest and fell, utterly and profoundly, asleep.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2006-05-12 08:27 am (UTC)"I know, my dear," he replied, because what else could they do but stay? "I-" His nerve faltered here, and it seemed stupid because he'd already killed a creature tonight, wiped its existence from Everywhere... what problem could simply asking to stay with Crowley be?
"It'll be cold," he murmured instead, checking John's blankets and making sure he was tucked in. He kept his hands hidden in his sleeves as he did this. "I- I'll just wash this off, shall I?"
Crowley nodded, settling down against the pillows even as Aziraphale turned away, heading to a nearby sink. It was a quick scrub, as he contemplated the state of his fingernails and tried to ignore how that much blood got there. His clothes were a loss, he decided, but couldn't quite bring himself to care.
The silence of the wing was deafening, as Crowley settled down, nearly asleep, on the selfsame bed. Aziraphale chanced a last look at John, and sat down on the edge Crowley's bed, watching the man sleep.
Crowley shifted, restless, as Aziraphale silently toed off his shoes. "You realize," he whispered softly, as he curled into Crowley, snuggling up against him, "that if John wakes up first, why... he'll roll his eyes at us."
There was the shadow of a smile on Crowley's face - he could barely tell, dark as it was, and it was more felt than seen. There was the barest flinch as his own hands brushed Crowley's skin, and a curiously slow hand wrapped around him. Aziraphale laid his head against the deep breathing chest and fell, utterly and profoundly, asleep.