Find your tribe in a Sea of Creativity
Hello! Not the promised angst, but I needed to cheer myself up today, so here’s some cuteness, a touch of emotional hurt, and a soft ending.
(CW for discussion of drunken shenanigans, after the fact, extremely mild.)
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The moment Crowley woke up, he knew something was wrong.
Even with his eyes closed – the room smelled too dusty, the air too dry. The pillows were too soft, the sheets nowhere near Egyptian cotton, and he was burrowed under a blanket that was thicker and heavier than anything he owned. It was comfortable, but it was wrong.
There was also someone moving nearby, footsteps treading softly near the bed.
Old instincts activated, bringing him from drowsy to alert in less than a second, without changing his posture in any way. Let the intruder think he still slept. He pictured the layout of his room, the distance to the door, the exact spot of the fancy lamp on his bedside table. It wasn’t much of a weapon, but it should buy time. He’d need to roll over, it was behind him, and from the sound of it the intruder was…inside…the wall?
Pressing his face into the pillow, Crowley slowly cracked open one eye.
The wall was much farther away than he remembered, and the room much brighter, and filled with bookshelves, and…
“For Ssssssomeone’s sake, Angel,” he groaned, sitting up. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”
Aziraphale turned from where he was sliding books onto a shelf, blinking innocently. “I’m terribly sorry, did I wake you?”
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