Of course Crowley is nearby, for they've been seeing a great deal of each other over these past weeks, really what some might call inseparable; he doesn't see a need for them to be apart when Aziraphale's bookshop is always so welcoming, warm and inviting (to a beloved demon, if not to customers) and his own flat has plenty of space for them both, even when their wings are out. When he aches for Aziraphale at every moment, finding it intolerable to even consider a night away from him. Crowley doesn't care if he reads through those hours or occupies himself in some other way while he's sleeping, as long as he's there when he wakes, so it's no surprise that Aziraphale feels the same.

He's been amusing himself by rearranging a window display, finding some rather obscene titles among Aziraphale's collection to put in a place of prominence, but leaves off after a bit and goes to see what Aziraphale is up to. When he finds him stretched out on the couch, by all appearances asleep, Crowley stands looking at him bemusedly for a few moments: isn't this a novel sight? Aziraphale's been promising to try out napping for a while, but Crowley wasn't sure if he'd ever get around to it. But there he is, eyes closed, face still and beatific, the slump of his warm body against the couch too tempting to resist, and before Crowley thinks much about it he's changed himself into a snake and is winding his way up onto the couch with him.

He's not as large a snake, at the moment, as when he and Aziraphale first met, but large enough that he can loop a couple of gentle, possessive coils around the angel's shoulders and chest. His tongue flickers out to taste Aziraphale's cheek once he's settled himself into place, and then Crowley tucks his head down at the hollow of his throat and closes his eyes, sinking heavily into sleep almost at once.