After a particularly lovely evening, and a particularly large bottle of wine, Crowley asks something of Aziraphale just as he untangles himself from the angel.
"Could I stay at yours tonight? I don't quite feel like driving back to my flat," he says, after having sobered up a considerable amount. He smacks his lips, the taste of alcohol now unpleasant.
Aziraphale avoids his gaze. "Oh, well, my dear..." he trails off.
"Is there something wrong?" Crowley asks, raising an eyebrow.
"Well," Aziraphale says, smacking his lips as well and scrunching his nose up. "Alcohol truly is dreadful when you aren't drunk. I can't imagine how terrible it would to wake up with a hangover like humans do."
Crowley sighs. "Don't stall, angel."
Aziraphale swallows and sits up. "Right, sorry. The thing is..." He taps his fingers on his thigh. "There's only one bed..."
Crowley blinks. "That's all? Angel, we're dating. We were just drunkenly holding each other and making some very inappropriate movements against one another. What is it about sharing a bed that has you so worried?"
Aziraphale purses his lips. "It's not that important, really."
"Out with it," Crowley says. "It can't be that bad."
"I hog the sheets."
Crowley snorts. "You what?" he asks. "Is that it, angel?"
Aziraphale snaps his head up. "What do you mean? What if you get cold? I'll have you up in the middle of the night trying to wrestle the sheets right back off of me!"
Crowley rolls his eyes and smiles at Aziraphale fondly. "I love you," he says, leaning down to kiss Aziraphale. "You're such a dork."
"Enough of that, you wily serpent," Aziraphale says, smiling and pushing Crowley playfully.
"Off to bed, then?" Crowley asks, taking Aziraphale's hand in his.
Aziraphale nods, squeezing his hand. "Off to bed."