By now it feels like instinct to lean down and claim the sleepy kiss Crowley offers him. Aziraphale breathes in deeply, relishes the feel of the angel waking beneath him just a little. He’s always treasured these moments with Crowley, moments of complete unthinking trust.

Somehow it always feels like coming home.

Aziraphale’s smile curves wide against Crowley’s lips.

“Caro mio,” he replies, softly. “How’s your head?”