Crowley woke up early that morning to a clatter from the bathroom and a bunch of his own hair in his mouth, which really should have pissed him off more than it did.

"You alive in there?" he called, his voice croaky.

"Yeah. Sorry. I-" Newt dropped whatever it was again. Or another thing. Crowley couldn't tell, the sounds of whatever it was hitting the floor sounded the same. "Shit. Sorry."

Crowley stifled a sigh in his pillow. What time was it? It was still mostly dark out. He reached over and squinted into the light of his cracked phone screen. A little past six in the morning. With another even more dramatic sigh, he pulled his blanket up over his head. That ended up yanking the other end away from his feet. Shit. Now he was cold. He turned over, curling up to fit under the blanket. His roommate's ruckus traveled from the bathroom to the small kitchen area. The smell of coffee filled the flat. Crowley shut his eyes tighter and tried to count.

It wasn't working. He was officially awake now.

It was far too early to be aware. He didn't need to be at work until- okay, an hour. Maybe this was a reasonable time to be waking up for the opening shift if he did things like eat breakfast or curl his hair. Maybe he could try to curl his hair. That would be fun. He usually did the bare minimum ponytail and hoped that the waves looked effortlessly cool and sexy instead of disheveled. And usually that worked.

Aziraphale would tell him he was beautiful no matter what his hair looked like that day.

Crowley stretched, feeling a grin steal across his face out of his control. One of the perks of working across the street from his boyfriend's bookshop was how frequently he came in to grab a coffee and flirt with Crowley while he did it. He would be seeing Aziraphale later that night too. His car was finally out of the shop and he could pick his date up and drive them both.

That was motivation enough to roll out of bed and find a pair of socks, his annoyance at the early hour evaporating like dew off grass.

"Hot chocolate for an angel?"

Crowley's lizard brain focused in on the touch of Aziraphale's hand against his when they passed the to go cup between them. "Thank you, my dear," Aziraphale's other hand went to Crowley's jaw. He leaned across the counter to press a quick kiss to his lips. Well, he'd probably meant it to be quick, but it ended up longer than that. It felt to Crowley like the buzz of chugging six shots of espresso, without the uncomfortable stuff his heart would do sometimes. He leaned into the contact, his surroundings melting away.

"Hey, no PDA in the workplace!" Nina tossed a dish towel at their heads. Crowley tossed it back, trying to tamp down his flustered reaction.

"Sorry Nina," said Aziraphale, not looking very sorry at all. Bastard. "I'll see you tonight," he whispered to Crowley. The taller man shivered.

"I- yeah, see you later. Seven!"

Twelve, maybe thirteen hours after Crowley picked Aziraphale up from the bookshop, he was being gently shaken awake.

"Crowley, my dear?"

Christ, I love him, but it's way. Too. Early.

"Mnghm."

He wasn't hungover, even if he sounded a bit like it, just so, so comfy. He had no clue what time it was, but he needed another half hour at least. Around eleven last night, after dinner, taking the long route back to the bookshop, and talking (and drinking) (and kissing) on the couch downstairs, Crowley had hinted that maybe it wasn't a good idea for him to drive back to his place. Naturally, the polite thing to do was for Aziraphale to offer for him to stay the night. Maybe the 'in his bed' part crossed the line from general politeness, but neither cared. Crowley was kicking off his shoes before Aziraphale even finished saying "how about we turn in now?"

And the possibility of seduction did cross his mind on the way up the stairs, and as he peeled off his jacket and jeans to get more comfortable. As soon as his head hit the pillow, though, Crowley was pretty much out. With anyone else, he might have felt embarrassed. But upon waking up to roll over in the middle of the night, he found his glasses had been removed and placed on the nightstand, and he'd been tucked in. Aziraphale was snoring on the other side of the bed. So he shrugged, rolled over, and tucked himself into his boyfriend's side. The boyfriend that was now gently prodding him awake.

"I'm going to make breakfast. It's time to get up."

"Nooo, s'not. Come back 'n' hold me, 's too early." He tried to tug his boyfriend back into bed. He missed the heat- Aziraphale was like a furnace and didn't mind how cold Crowley's extremities got. You're practically cold-blooded, he'd said once, after Crowley had stuck his very cold fingers into the crook of his neck.

He wanted Aziraphale next to him again. Or under him, or over him. He wasn't picky. He pressed a kiss to the corner of his boyfriend's mouth, trying his best to be convincing.

"How can you still be tired? Come on, darling," Aziraphale wasn't letting himself be dragged back to bed. Crowley huffed softly, dragging lazy kisses across his boyfriend's jaw until a gentle hand on his cheek eased him back. (No, really. He should be embarrassed. This was embarrassing, right? Why did this feel so safe and warm and fuzzy instead?) A kiss was pressed to the middle of his forehead. "Aren't you hungry?"

"No, 'm not. Too early for it. What time even is it?"

"It's almost eight thirty. We slept in."

"You consider that sleeping in?! What kind of awful, horrible morning person have I fallen in love with?" Aziraphale froze. Crowley didn't register his accidental confession, and dramatically flopped back to bury his face in the pillow. It smelled a little bit like Aziraphale's shampoo. The weight of the sheets and quilt above him was dragging him back down into sweet, sweet unconsciousness.

Love? Aziraphale was thinking. Fallen in love with? Did he mean it? He watched his boyfriend bury his face into the pillow, his red hair a beautiful, tangled mess. Anthony from just a few months ago would have balked at the idea of letting Aziraphale see him like this, entirely un-put-together, yesterday's wrinkled shirt and a pair of Aziraphale's fuzzy socks on. Vulnerable in this half-sleep state, did he have it in him to be anything but honest?

"Alright," Aziraphale whispered, unable to keep the smile off his face. "You sleep in. I'll come get you when breakfast is ready." The only response was a quiet snuffling noise. "Lazy bones," Aziraphale muttered, not really meaning it. He stooped for one more kiss to Crowley's mussed hair. He wasn't even sure if Crowley heard him. His breathing had slowed back down. "I love you too," Aziraphale said anyway.

He'd say it again when he dragged Crowley out of bed later. Maybe that would soften the blow of waking up so 'early', Aziraphale thought with a quiet snort of laughter.