Aziraphael had managed to master his disappointment when he'd realised Crowley was still wearing his shoes: a sign of true exhaustion if he'd ever seen one. He'd pulled them off before curling as close as possible and falling asleep himself, too tired even to fight Crowley for the covers.

The next morning hadn't been any better. Crowley was still tired and cranky, the angel oddly rushed and nervous, and since they'd seen what they had come to see, they were only headed straight back to the airport. The angel dressed (he had to take half his clothes off from the night before, first) with even less thought than usual, checking every five minutes to see if Crowley was awake.