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Crowley and Aziraphale are on a right bender. The sun went down hours ago, and they decided to celebrate by opening another bottle of wine. Aziraphale keeps himself deliciously buzzed, but Crowley seems intent on reaching oblivion, and refuses to share his current bottle.
“Angel! ‘Ve I ever tol’ you how pretty you are?”
“Why, thank you! I think you’re rather lovely yourself.”
“Oh tha’s nice!” Crowley looks surprised and pleased at Aziraphale’s response.
“An- an- ‘ve I told you, you are jusss the right mix of nice and bassstard?”
“Yes my dear, you’ve mentioned.”
“Oh tha’s good, ‘cause you are, yannow. I’ve wann’d to tell you tha’ for loooong time.”
“Crowley, you’re drunk, dear. Shall we try to get you sobered up a bit?”
“Wha-? No! No way, Angel, I’m fine! An- an- finally can tell you these things. Right amount of alcohol. ’M feeling - whazzat thing you sssaid that one time? You know , ticky tocky something? Timey whimey thing?”
“Are you trying to say ‘tickety-boo?’”
“Thasssit! I’m jus’ tickyboo… Kittyboo…”
“Tickety boo.”
“Yeah, ‘s wot I said!”
“Yes dear, whatever you say.”
“I’ve loads to say! Loss ‘n loss t’ say. Like, your hair looks so soft and fluffy, I jusss’ wanna dig my hands into it…”
“Perhaps later, I’m quite occupied at the moment.”
“Wha- whatcha doin’?” He tries to sound suave. He fails.
“I’m having a conversation with a silly serpent who can’t hold his alcohol.”
“Sounds like a prat, you shouldn’ listen to him, listen to meeee… ”
“Oh Crowley, such a state you’re in. Are you sure you don’t want to sober up, just a little?”
“No! No, told you, loss and loss of- LOADS of stuff I wanna say. I think you’re pretty and you’re nice but not too nice and your hair looksss like a halo when the light’s behind you and alssso hic I think you’re pretty.”
“Thank you, my dear. Well done. Sober now?”
“Hey! Uh, heya Angel.” Crowley tries to wink, but only gets halfway through before he forgets that’s what he was doing, and leaves one eye shut.
“Oh, good Lord! Are you trying to flirt with me?!”
“‘M not… well, maybe? ‘Pends. Are you sssingle?”
With a fond smile, Aziraphale decides to play along. “I am most definitely not single.”
“Oh no!” Tears start to well up in Crowley’s eyes. “You’re not… oh no! I waited too long and you foun’ sssome’ne else!” His face crumples as he continues, “I’s gon’ asssk you out, take you to your fav’rite place, romance the, the, romance you.”
“I think it’s time we get you up to bed, love.”
“You can’t take me to bed! You’re taken! ”
“Come on then, up you go.” Aziraphale stands next to his swaying friend, arm wrapped around him as Crowley weakly bats at him with his hands.
“Angel! No! Don’ wanna bed!”
Aziraphale maneuvers the swaying demon up the stairs and into a room that has a large bed front and center. “Here we go. Lie down, I’ll help you with your shoes.”
“Help me with my trousers too?” He manages a not-at-all sexy eyebrow wiggle. Then with a look of dismay, he bemoans his words. “But you’re not sssingle ! This isn’t goin’ to plan at all, I ’as gon’ wooo - ah, tha’s a funny word. Woo wooooo woo wooooo - wait, wass I say’n’?”
“You were saying ‘woo,’ and getting rather good at it too!” He just can’t help himself teasing Crowley a bit.
Crowley’s face lights up. “Tha’s so nice of you to say! See? You’re always so nice to me. Hey! Are you single?”
“You’ve already asked me that. The answer is still no, I’m not single.”
Crowley pouts in earnest at this reminder.
“In fact, I’m married, love. And when you sober up you’ll remember that you are, too.”
“Bah!” Crowley attempts to wave his arm dismissively, narrowly missing his own face. “‘S not a problem. I’ll leave ‘em for you, le’s run off together!”
“Oh Crowley. I’m married to you, silly serpent.”
But Crowley is already snoring in their bed on the upper level of their South Downs cottage.