[Waking up is an unpleasant process; he faintly recalls someone calling for help, had thought it was Warlock before realising it was a young girl's voice, but now most of his attention is on the headache he's nursing and the odd sense of grogginess that clings to him. He's used to waking up smoothly, comfortably. Not like this. He kicks off the sheets, blinking in the early morning light and taking in the silk nightgown he's wearing.
That's definitely not what he fell asleep wearing.
Something's very wrong. He doesn't recognise the ceiling, either, and when he rolls to his side, he makes a startled sound at seeing a bed across from him. There's a head of white blond hair visible above the covers, and something unpleasant twists in his stomach, panic rising up.
Crowley slips out of bed, too panicked to feel self-conscious about the lack of clothes he's been shoved into, and strides over to the other bed, nudging Aziraphale's shoulder.]
Wake up, angel!
[He can't keep the worry out of his voice, despite best efforts.]
for bibliophilicbells
That's definitely not what he fell asleep wearing.
Something's very wrong. He doesn't recognise the ceiling, either, and when he rolls to his side, he makes a startled sound at seeing a bed across from him. There's a head of white blond hair visible above the covers, and something unpleasant twists in his stomach, panic rising up.
Crowley slips out of bed, too panicked to feel self-conscious about the lack of clothes he's been shoved into, and strides over to the other bed, nudging Aziraphale's shoulder.]
Wake up, angel!
[He can't keep the worry out of his voice, despite best efforts.]