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Take Them Off

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The room swam a little, as he sat there trying to remember exactly how many drinks he’d had. He’d lost count somewhere around the main course and, never one to stop the revelry, merely kept on right through dessert and coffee.

It wasn’t his fault if the wine was delicious though, was it? How many bottles had they shared together?

Shaking his head a little, Aziraphale soon realized he was weightless.  He was being carried.

It wasn’t the first time this had happened. Truth be told, he rather enjoyed being carried, feeling safe and settled against his oldest friend, the one person he trusted to carry him.

"When did we get back to your flat?"

“Just a few minutes ago. Bit of a wasted miracle, but I hope you don’t mind, seemed easier.” Crowley offered. His hair a tangle from the wind.

Crowley was also drunk, though obviously not as drunk as Aziraphale, who’s head lolled onto his shoulder with strange abandon. Crowley gave a contented sigh when it happened.

Finally, he was laid gently to rest on soft pillows and a downy bed.

“It’s lovely, thank –” he said, glancing up at Crowley.

“Best not actually say the words, Angel,” Crowley smiled, his features all cheekbones and glasses. “But of course, you’re welcome.”

He sunk down, immediately luxuriating in the warmth. It was almost heated, which was obscene but wouldn’t have put it past Crowley. Moaning and stretching, until finally cuddling around a blanket and breathing in the lavender scent of evening, he gazed up at the other person.

Time seemed to stop as they stared at one another. Eventually, Aziraphale rolled closer to him and took his hand. “I’d rather – That is the say – Would you?”

Crowley cocked his head, and smirked a little as the Angel fumbled for the words.

“I don’t sleep well alone.” Crowley seemed to nod infinitesimally. He snapped and nearly sat down in a nearby lounge that had just appeared when, Aziraphale seemed to wring his hand again. “Not what I mean…”

Suddenly, Aziraphale was overtaking by a giddy smile. “Join me here?”

Crowley’s eyebrows raised. “Are you sure? I don’t think your side would like that very well, Angel.”

“Could you imagine?” Aziraphale giggled, imagining Gabrielle’s revulsion, and it made him all the more energetic to create more room. “Please, I’d love the company.”

Crowley shrugged, and blithely moved in next to him with the grace of someone who’d been a snake for time immemorial.

For a brief moment, they adjusted their positions, finding what was comfortable.  Eventually they settled on Crowley offering his arm for Aziraphale to rest on, curling himself around the other, his fingers brushing his shoulder, and Aziraphale looking up at the ceiling, quite the picture of contentment.

Well, nearly content. Aziraphale looked over at Crowley, a knot of concern between his eyebrows. “Don’t you take your glasses off when-?”

Crowley grinned at him wickedly. “When I what, Angel?”

Aziraphale gave him a very scrunched up frown. “When – You - Sleep?” he said poignantly, the drink still making the room swim, but he wasn’t about to let Crowley have this one. Besides, it was probably dark enough that the Demon didn’t see his face turn pink.

Probably.

Crowley laid there, perfectly at east on his side, his face very close to Aziraphale, and smirked. “Is it off putting?” Crowley moved the glasses down his nose to look at him with those yellow eyes, wrist lightly grazing Aziraphale’s cheek.

The dare was plain on his face. Aziraphale’s mouth was suddenly dry and he licked his lips. “No, no – I’m quite fond of them. They suit you, always have.”

Crowley gave a curt little nod and then splayed a hand on Aziraphale’s chest, giving a satisfied grunt of approval when the he gasped. “’Night, Angel,” he said yawning.

Aziraphale found he was suddenly very awake. He blinked at the ceiling as the feel of the Demon’s hand spread warmly throughout his body, laying like the most perfect weight.