Vaguely Sauntering Downwards - Ineffable Husbands

i. laudanum

1827 - Scotland - Aziraphale

"Not kind," Crowley snapped, leaning on Aziraphale. "'M off my head on laudanum. 'M not responsible for my actions."

Aziraphale patted Crowley's shoulder. He found it endearing when his demon tried to convince him that he was, in fact, completely evil. "Right. Why don't we head to the book shop so you can rest... THIS off," he said, motioning to Crowley. The demon's brow furrowed.

"Feel like there's 'n easier way, bu' I can' remember, so that'll do, angel," Crowley said, whooping as he stumbled. Aziraphale held him tighter, hoping the demon wouldn't get hurt. Yes, there was an easier way to sober up from the laudnam, but in all honesty, Aziraphale just wanted Crowley over.

"Jolly good, then," Aziraphale said, giving Crowley another squeeze. "Hang in there. I'm going to miracle us to the bookshop." He ignored another whoop from Crowley as he waved one of his hands.

The air changed from cold and damp to warm and dry. Crowley winced at the harsh lighting, and with another wave of Aziraphales hand, the lights dimmed to a low, warm yellow hue. Crowley sagged against Aziraphale's shoulder, wrapping an arm against the angel's back.

"Come, dear boy," Aziraphale said. "Let's get you laid down."

"To the couch!" Crowley exclaimed, raising an arm as if he was pointing toward his next adventure. He tried pulling Aziraphale by the waist toward the couch. Aziraphales skin turned warm, and he felt a bit fuzzy inside.

"Not- not the couch, today, dear." Aziraphale said.

Crowley's brows furrowed again. "No? Where am I to sleep, then? You would leave me alone in m' flat? Alone? Off m' head an' alone, Zira? You fiend. How rude. I thought we were friends."

Friends. That didn't even begin to encompass the angel's feelings for his demon companion.

"No, Crowley," Aziraphale said patiently. "Not alone. Upstairs, now. Careful." Crowley, however, didn't move. "Crowley?"

"Can' move, angel," Crowley stated. "Oh, how tired I am. M' legs, yes, too tired to lift me anymore." He sagged further down.

"Oh, Crowley," Aziraphale whispered under his breath. "Right, then. I'm going to pick you up now. Do be still, please. No wriggling."

Crowley frowned deeply. "Arright, Zira, but I like wriggling. Imagine the joy you're keeping from me righ' now, by denying me wriggling righ's."

"Yes, yes, Crowley, I understand the joy I'm keeping from you," Aziraphale said, smiling slightly as he put his arm under Crowley's legs and lifted him with minimal struggle.

Crowley wrapped his arms around the angel's neck. "You're righ' strong, now, aren' ya, Zira," he said. "Imp- impressive. You've got muscles under all those clothes?"

"Crowley!" Aziraphale yelped, scandalized. His face was bright red.

"Well?" Crowley said. His sunglasses clung to the tip of his nose; his yellow eyes peered into Aziraphale's. The angel only blinked in response.

"I- ah. We're going up the stairs, now. It might be a bit bumpy...hold on, now..."

Thoughts swirled in Aziraphale's mind. Crowley acted like this plenty; mostly when drunk or - as he occasionally was - high. Aziraphale didn't know what to make of it. Of course, he knew how it made him feel - all fuzzy and warm, and fluttery inside. Much like a human crush, if he understood correctly. But - but surely Crowley didn't feel the same. Crowley, who was all sharp-edged and distant. Crowley, whose job was to tempt and trick. Crowley, who was surely flirty with everyone. Though the angel had never seen Crowley flirt with anyone...