follow up: aziraphale crawling into his nice clean sheets and immediately ruining the effect by eating a crumbly, buttery biscuit in bed. “oh, hell,” he says, giving crowley a forlorn look. “now I’ll be uncomfortable all night.”
crowley gives him a long, considering look, but he leans over and blows the crumbs off aziraphale’s pillowcase, blowing them out of existence. “I hate crumbs in bed,” he declares.
“of course you do.” aziraphale is wiggling again, and smiling a little, shy despite having shared this bed for nearly six years.
“I did that for me,” crowley adds warningly.
aziraphale’s wiggle intensifies until he’s wiggles himself all the way across the mattress and up against crowley’s frame. “oh, of course you did.”
“utterly selfish act,” crowley says, though the effect is ruined somewhat by the way he’s leaning in, letting aziraphale nuzzle at his neck, his cheek.
“it certainly must have been,” aziraphale soothes. his eyes have gone heavy and half-lidded. he looks at crowley’s mouth from mere centimetres away.
“so’s this,” crowley says, and closes the distance.
the kiss tastes like laughter, and a bit like biscuits.




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