No but listen- at some point, Crowley is visiting, and feels sleepy, so he just goes to lie down in the bedroom for a nap. But the bed smells like Aziraphale, and is warm like Aziraphale, and soft like Aziraphale⊠Even though the angel never slept on it, being Aziraphaleâs bed, by definition, it feels like he sleeps in it.Â
(Aziraphale concluded that Crowley had left the premises without saying goodbye. Or maybe the demon said goodbye but he somehow missed it. He was rather fascinated by a book.)
At some point, twelve years into the nap, Crowley wakes up, groggy, gets under the covers.Â
(Oh, you know who I havenât seen in a while? Crowley. I wonder how heâs doing.)
Fifty-one years into the nap, a fly lands on Crowleyâs face. He slaps it, wakes himself up, goes âwhuuuâ before laying his head down on the feather pillow and falling asleep again.Â
(Well, itâs been a while. Poor boy must be busy.)
Seventy-seven years, and Crowley lets out a inhuman snore. Aziraphale thinks there may be rats in the walls. Maybe a possum. The house he bought at the beginning of the century is getting rather old, but he fears moving. What if Crowley comes back and doesnât find his new address?
(Was it something I said?)
Crowley wakes up ninety-eight years later, for no other reason that he is done sleeping. He blinks, scratches his belly. Leaves the room, yawning.Â
âHey, Angel, is there anything to eat-â
He stops, stares at Aziraphale, whoâs wearing completely different clothes. Aziraphale stares back.
âWhat are you wearing-â
âAre you telling me that you have been ASLEEP THIS WHOLE TIME.â
âThis whole- How long have I been napping?â
âNap- Napping?!? You call this a nap? Crowley, I havenât seen you for the last century!âÂ
âYour bed is comfy,â he mumbles.
âThat is not a valid reason- wait. I have a bed?â