Ineffable Husbands One Shots

Fresh Air

~!~ Today's prompt was Air, as you might've guessed from the title XD also, Content Warning for heavy drunkenness. ~!~

"Okay, my dearrrr, up ya get!" Aziraphale said while pushing himself off their sofa unsteadily and holding out his hands to Crowley.

"Wha?" Crowley asked groggily.

"We're gonna get sommmme frrresh air!" he declared, his eyes beginning to glow as he began to allow bits of his true form to manifest.

Usually, when they were this drunk, they either fell asleep in odd positions, or Aziraphale slurred something about how they should probably sober up to avoid a hangover in the morning. Apparently the angel had... other plans for them tonight.

"What're you... wha..." Crowley tried to ask, wanting to understand, but unable to form the answer he was looking for- no... no that's not ri- the question! He was unable to form the question he wanted the answer to.

"I said, silly! We are getting... we're... fresh air! Yes... yes. So. Let us go!" Aziraphale gestured haphazardly to their sliding screen door.

"Ya wanna go... outside?"

"Mmmmmmmhmm!" he closed his eyes, nodding in confirmation, and when he opened them again about thirty others opened along with his usual two.

"Pwhuh..." Crowley said, feeling a little overwhelmed by all of the eyes looking at him with glassy happiness. "Nnnnn, angel... ghnn... don't you think you should sober up before going out...?"

"No need, no need. I feel perfunctly fine," Aziraphale reassured, waving a hand dismissively with a broad grin on his face. ""Come, knight! Come, knight!"" he said, encouraging the demon to join him in standing.

"Yeah, love, it's night, ya shouldn't... shouldn't go out..." Crowley attempted to reason with him, completely missing Aziraphale's reference. (This was probably because it was extremely obscure. No one could be expected to know it, apart from Aziraphale, the author, and anyone else who's somehow intimately acquainted with Sir Toby Belch's lines from Shakespeare's Twelfth Night.)

"I shallllln't be alone, though, my dove! You-" he grabbed Crowley's hand, "co- come with me!" he hiccuped, gently tugging on Crowley.

"Mmmm, jus'- sober up a little," he tried again to convince Aziraphale.

He paused in his efforts to get Crowley off the sofa, considering his words. "Perrrrhaps a tad," the angel agreed. What by now had to be more than 50 eyes all squeezed shut in tandem as he banished a small amount of alcohol from his system. When they all reopened they looked slightly more alert. "Ah! You were right, dear boy, it will be quite be- bene- ben-... helpful to not be constantly dizzy! So! Let's go."

"You still want to?" Crowley asked weakly. He felt very tired and wasn't sure if debuting his true form to the sleepy little town where they currently resided was an activity he wanted to partake in tonight.

"Yes! Fresh air! I think both of us need it desperately."

"Ehhhh... I'm not so sure if that's true... for m'self at least..."

Aziraphale nodded, apparently taking this in stride. Then, he said what sounded like a complete non sequitur to Crowley's ears, "Would you like me to hold you?" he held out his arms to him.

All of the air in Crowley's lungs left abruptly. "Yes," he wheezed. Being held by Aziraphale was something he was always embarrassingly desperate for, unlike the fresh air that he didn't have any particular feelings for.

Aziraphale made a happy noise before gently, if not awkwardly, gathering Crowley up in his arms. He held him bridal style; the eyes on his chest and arm were looking at him with such pure adoration that Crowley's heart was fluttering out of control and he nearly wanted to hide his face.