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[un_fallen]

Morning sunlight creeps gently through a crack between the curtains, illuminating a table, a comfortable-looking chair, a soft rug on the floor. And somehow, it manages to seek out the one position in the room where it can sweetly illuminate a single, peacefully slumbering face.



"Mngk."

He squints without actually opening his eyes, and flails slightly in discomfort. One hand makes contact with something very close by that's solid and faintly warm. Unthinking, Raguel rolls toward it and buries his head in the corner between Warm Thing and the mattress, escaping the nefarious sunbeam.

That's better.

Comments

[un_fallen]

"Think he's waking up?" he asks, pulling distractedly at a corner of the sheet.

[aj_crawley]

As if in answer, an almost inaudible "What..." from beneath the blankets.

There doesn't seem to be a second part to the question - not so much that it's not 'what anything' as it's 'what everything'.

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

Aziraphael wriggles under the cover in entirely undignified and hurried a manner, his voice just as gentle as the hand cupping Crowley's jaw.

"Good morning, Crowley."

[un_fallen]

Raguel watches him vanish, torn between following him to find out what's going on and... not going there. He worries the blanket between his fingers instead, casting occasional glances in the direction of the Aziraphael-shaped lump underneath.

[aj_crawley]

It's a little difficult to make out Crowley's face in the dark, but his eyes are open - and, after a moment, they land on Aziraphael's face.

The yellow gaze seems more focused than earlier, than the periods spent, unseeing and unaware of his surroundings, in the halfway place between unconscious and awake. There's still a slight dazedness to his eyes, though; a faint glassiness that suggests that Crowley still isn't quite All There yet.

He blinks, disoriented.

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

Aziraphael's thumb sweeps lightly across his jaw.

"Feeling any better?"

It's more an effort to sharpen his focus a little, or ensure it continues, than because he expects any sort of an answer.

[aj_crawley]

Crowley glances around again, confusedly, and then blinks back at Aziraphael.

His tongue darts out to wet cracked lips, before trying to speak, but since his mouth is almost as dry, this isn't really very effective.

Eventually, raspily:

"Uh."

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

"Right. Yes. Just - "

He leans forward quickly and brushes his lips against Crowley's cheek, unable to resist the temptation.

" - just give me a moment and I'll get you something - tea, or - "

[aj_crawley]

Fingers fasten around Aziraphael's wrist - though there's not much strength in them.


A thoughtful silence.


Crowley has registered a second source of heat behind him.


He tries to turn over, but, as it turns out, is barely capable of getting even halfway there.


"Who...?" he settles on, instead.

[un_fallen]

Raguel's been trying not to listen, which never works well in an otherwise silent room.

"You probably don't want to know," he says with a resigned sigh, thinking this might be a better time to slip away.

[aj_crawley]

Another long, long silence, as Crowley fuzzily attempts to put a name to the voice, and then tries to process the answer.




And then eventually, a raw, creaking, rattling sound, that upon closer inspection, turns out to be not a coughing fit, but simply positively painful-sounding laughter.

[un_fallen]

There is glaring.

So much glaring.

And underneath it, a hint of relief.

"Just see if I lift a finger to save your skin next time, huh?"

[aj_crawley]

"Hey," he wheezes, and then has to cough around the dryness in his throat. "I'm good."

[a-fell.livejournal.com]

Aziraphael shakes a finger at Crowley.

"You, stop talking."

He raises his voice a little.

"And you, stop encouraging him. We've talked about this."

He pulls the blanket down a little, preparatory to fetching tea, but Crowley's fingers are still lightly wrapped around his wrist.

[un_fallen]

Still glaring, Raguel huffs out a long-suffering sigh.

"I'll get it."

Unfortunately, Raguel has to make tea the regular way. Or perhaps he's just being sullen.

[aj_crawley]

And unfortunately, by the time he turns back around, Crowley's slipped away again.

(Not, however, before croaking something about a 'midnight special'.)