Written purely for fun. Hope you like - if so, check out ma other GO fics. arigatoouu

Aziraphale rolled over and turned a page idly.

He glanced guiltily at the alarm clock on his bedside table: 7.20 AM glared fiercely at him in red neon. He was usually up, and showered and fully-dressed by this time. Supernatural-being or not, he did have lessons today - important ones - and you can't skip out on classes just because you're an angel...

..Or because you have a demon still snoring in your bed.

Aziraphale craned his neck to glare instead at Crowley. The tousle-haired idiot was fast asleep; his arms were at haphazard angles above his head and he lay sprawled out on his tummy over the majority of Aziraphale's pillows. His mouth gaped half-open, breathing slow and quiet. His copper skin seemed paler in the morning light, that filtered in golden, through the drapes masking Aziraphale's double-windows. Aziraphale let his eyes momentarily race over Crowley's face, along the curve of his neck...he allowed himself a quick peek at the bare of his back; edge of his shoulder-blades, slight muscle of his arms, his hands; elegant but calloused fingers, roughened by the constant thrum of guitar strings. He tried to clear his throat in an effort to seize clarity in his quickly-fogging head, but the mist was soft, and warm and sweet. Surely it wouldn't hurt just to move a bit closer and steal some of Crowley's warmth...

Get up.

He set his book down beside him, peeled off the white bed-sheets and pulled his legs up to sit. The fact of the matter was, he needed to leave. He needed to leave and go to college. He had lessons, he had plans. He needed to shower, or he'd be smelling Crowley on him all day and that wouldn't be good. He tugged his t-shirt up cautiously to catch a whiff but ended up inhaling.

Deeply.

Well, the smell was good so to speak; Crowley smelt...sweet and something like dark and earthy, musky. He smelt like barley and cider, and skin. And like winter. Like ice. But it smelt familiar and comforting...and...hmmm..

Yeah. He needed to shower. The angel turned his attention to the slumbering devil beside him. He hadn't moved. A finger twitched. Right, enough was enough. He needed to go in today and Crowley needed to get his arse out of Aziraphale's room and dorm. Hopefully before Newt got up or he'd never hear the end of it. Ana had already left hours ago, having some sort of Society For the Protection and Conservation of Witchcraft Brewery Practices meeting...exactly why it was held in the incomprehensible hours of the morning, he didn't know...he tended to zone out when Anathema began one of her frequent Votes for Witches! rants..

He sighed restlessly. "Crowley." he said quietly.

Nothing.

"Crowley. Crowley. Hey," he tried, nudging his shoulder. He pushed him, "Crowley. CROWLEY."

Crowley stirred but only issued a low groan (which quivered deliciously in Aziraphale's ears) and squirmed further into the pillows.

"Oi. Crowley, wake up. Crowley! Wake up, I have to go."

Nothing.

"GETUPGETUPGETUPGETUPGETUPGETUPGETUP-"

"-Alright, angel. I'm up. Jesu-I mean, bloody hell." Crowley mumbled sluggishly, leaning up on his elbows. "What kind of a wake up call was that?"

"Well it took you so ruddy long. God, you sleep for years. It's late and I have to go in today, which means you have to leave before me."

Crowley's scowling face suddenly lit up and split into an evil grin.

"Oh, does it?" He smiled like a knife, rolling over and sitting up so the bed-sheets fell away from his chest. Aziraphale pointedly kept his eyes on Crowley's smirk.

He glowered and set his jaw stubbornly,"Yes. It does. So get up and sort your hair out, it looks a mess." He swung his legs over the side of his bed and made to stand but Crowley's arm snaked itself around his waist, pulling him back, nestled to him.

"Crowle-" he complained but then he felt said-demon's fingers slide up beneath his shirt and he grinned despite himself.

"That was a shit wake up call so you need to make amends, I believe." Crowley reprimanded him, stealing Aziraphale's glasses and tossing them out of his reach.

"I'm going to be late-"

"-Better get on with it then." Crowley jabbed before their mouths caught. He crushed the angel to him, and Aziraphale felt his hands tangle in Crowley's rumpled hair. Crowley kissed him gently but deeply, his fingers dancing over Aziraphale's waist which he had bared by inching up his shirt. Fingertips trailed up to kiss over his ribs, and Aziraphale arched his back a little and moaned quietly against his lips (his own hands wincing sweetly amidst Crowley's hair), instantly hating Crowley for knowing just how to make his body do what he wanted. He could feel his mouth lifting upwards into a gleeful grin.

"You're a bastard." Aziraphale murmured solidly to him, nudging their noses together.

"I know," Crowley kissed him, and so Aziraphale bit him. Sharply tugging the skin of Crowley's lower-lip between his own, his teeth scraping the metal of Crowley's lip-ring. Aziraphale felt a gasping intake of breath, and a low moan rise in Crowley's throat. Aziraphale disengaged smugly and sat up again.

"Whoa. Lip biting? New territory. You're not going anywhere please."

Aziraphale stood and yanked open his chest of drawers. "Uh, yeah. I am. School. Classes. Learning. Knowledge. Any of this ringing a bell?"

Crowley squinted, "Ehhh faintly. Any of these classes have you naked in them?"

Aziraphale made a mocking, thoughtful face (despite the pink tinge to his cheeks).

"Erm yeah, it's the..oh, what was it called, the-shutyourwhoremouthandgetoutofbedclass."

"I love it when you talk dirty."

"I will kill you."

Blue eyes stared down a pair of laughing yellow.

"Fine, fine. I'm up, I am up," Crowley held his palms aloft in his surrender and clambered out of Aziraphale's bed. "Never get between an angel and his desire to be educated, I know that now."

"Good." A glare shot at him.

A deep sigh racked through Crowley's body.

("I knew I should have used those handcuffs..")

"..."

Outside, a cloud of sparrows shot from their birch-tree-pirch as if electrocuted into the blue, singing in alarm as a thud and nauseatingly loud crash thundered from behind a veiled double-window. A crash which sounded suspiciously like a Windows PC (keyboard, monitor and all) being hurtled across a room. Perhaps aimed at a horrendously-perverted demon with sadistic, lechery and you-sick-bastard tendencies.

Needless to say, Aziraphale arrived late that morning.

Thank you for reading, please review!