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It’s a small one bedroom cottage so naturally everyone thinks they’re a couple. They are, of course, just not the way everyone thinks. Not romantically.
Well, maybe a tiny bit romantically. They have been frienemies for a long time, they care in a deep and timeless way about each other, they do call each other Dear and Angel (even if it’s not for the reasons a casual observer might suppose), and they have been viewed a certain way for centuries. It rubs in a bit; blurs the edges.
The one bedroom is misleading, because not needing to sleep they don’t actually share the bed in their one bedroom. The only reason they have a bed in it at all is because although neither of them needs to sleep, they can sleep if they want to make the effort for some reason and Crowley, who maintains that it isn’t actually an effort at all, sees it as one of eternity’s little necessities. He’d go insane without this respite from the tedium, he says, and so often likes to catch himself forty or so winks. Aziraphale, for his part, likes to blend in with humanity and keep up appearances; so whilst he doesn’t sleep, he sees a good bed as part of their cover.
So they might be a bit romantic couple-wise, but they’re not a couple in the hot sweaty sex way. Or even a gentle, exploratory love-making way. If they’re enjoying a romance it’s definitely of the asexual kind.
But after all this time there is a real affection for one another and the knowledge that they have each other fills them with warm fuzzies. Not that Crowley would call it that or admit to it, even. In fact just thinking about it makes him want to retire to bed and sleep it off, even if it would likely take longer than a century of deep slumber to do so.
When he does go to bed for a bit of sleep, Aziraphale almost invariably joins him in their one bedroom to sit in the overstuffed monstrosity that he calls a chair and read a good book*.
Anyone who’s met them will not be surprised to know that Crowley’s bed is very sleek and minimalist and that Aziraphale’s chair is the very last word in chintz. They would be surprised to know that Crowley has never once tried to set light to the chair or replace it with something less floral and poofy.
Crowley likes to sleep and Aziraphale likes to watch over him whilst he does so. Aziraphale is fascinated by Crowley in sleep, because to sleep Crowley has to let go and embrace the full human experience. It makes him look soft and shockingly exposed.
Aziraphale knows all humans look this way when asleep because that is essentially when they are at their most vulnerable. He feels privileged that Crowley allows him to see it and at times it sends that warm fuzzy feeling in his chest and stomach into over-drive. When that happens he has to stifle a panic attack that he can’t quite understand and go for a little walk and some fresh air.
Most of the time Crowley sleeps peacefully, but sometimes his sleep is troubled and there are bad dreams. Aziraphale supposes this is only natural, Crowley is, after all, a demon and he knows what Hell is. Nonetheless he wants to comfort him during these bad dreams, so on those occasions he will softly read aloud or sing quietly, as one might to child, until Crowley settles again. Aziraphale is sure that Crowley settles more quickly than he would otherwise and this also give him the warm fuzzies.
Very occasionally Crowley will moan in what at first seems like pain but soon shows itself to be pleasure. These occasions also give Aziraphale a warm funny feeling in his chest and stomach. But he wouldn’t call it fuzzy, not exactly. It always pools lower down and condenses into something much hotter and on those occasions he blushes as he thinks that sleep might not be the only human experience that it wouldn’t take much effort to try.
*Not THE Good Book. He knows that by heart and it turns out they got the ending wrong anyway.