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He opened his eyes, squinting against light and throbbing. He was in... this was definitely the bookshop, sure enough. He didn’t usually fall asleep on the backroom sofa, though.
Or at all.
Had they been at the wine last night? He didn’t usually drink so much he forgot to sober up, either. And if he was in this bad a state, how was-- “Crowley?” he croaked, and his voice creaked like a motorbike engine on the edge of collapse.
“Annnngel. So glad you’re with us!” Crowley probably didn’t shout, but it bounced around his skull like a foghorn.
Aziraphale pulled the pillow over his head. “So you remembered to sober up.”
“We didn’t drink that mu-- oh! You don’t remember! Bollocks, uh... what’s the last thing you do remember?”
“We... we went to the theatre, didn’t we? They were doing Henry V.”
“Yeah, okay. Glad you remember that.” A bit of rustling, and Crowley’s voice was much closer, softer. “Let me see your eyes, angel, yeah?”
He pulled the pillow off his head, blinking in the light.
Crowley knelt by the couch, watching him. “Do you remember the show?”
“Henry’s actor was solid English oak and I don’t know what they were thinking. That is literally the only part that needs all the life and finesse,” Aziraphale said. “Why did you need to see my eyes?”
“Tell me what else you remember,” Crowley said instead of answering, drat him.
Aziraphale sighed. “We went... to dinner? I’m almost certain. Would you just tell me what happened, you fiend?”
“We went to dinner,” Crowley confirmed. “And in the middle of dinner, there was some noise outside...”
“Oh!” Aziraphale sat up, and regretted it as the room spun around him. He clutched at the air and Crowley caught him in a steady grip.
He stared for a second at their joined hands. “We. I?”
“Noise outside,” Crowley said, and loosened his grip.
Aziraphale reluctantly let go and put his hand on the arm of the sofa. “Lots of noise-- I... I went to go see what was happening, I think? Football match had just let out, lots of shouting, I think. And it was starting to tip into fights.”
“And?”
“And... that’s it. That’s all I really remember.”
“So you don’t remember wading into a huge crowd of drunken footie fans that were variously either angry or triumphant and telling them to calm down?”
Aziraphale laughed weakly. “Lord no, does that sound like the kind of thing I would do?” he asked in the face of nearly 6000 years of evidence.
“It almost worked, too. Hold still, I’m going to touch your head.”
He closed his eyes. “All... all right. I take it it didn’t work, then.”
Nimble fingers in his hair, probing gently at the skin above his ear which was far more tender than it had any right to be. The picture was becoming much clearer.
“Worked just fine, you should have seen it. You were appealing to their better natures and all. It was right amazing til a Teddy Girl at the outskirts threw a brick at you, now there’s a lot I’m not going to be on the wrong side of for a while.”
Aziraphale blinked. “All the Teddies I’ve known have been perfectly fine people.”
“Yeah, well, you don’t usually know them in the middle of a footie brawl. If it makes you feel better, I don’t know that she meant to hit you personally. But after that... yeah, you took quite a pounding before I got to you. Hold still, I think I can help this.”
Warmth flooded into his head through Crowley’s fingers and he blinked as the shadows and pain receded. “However did you manage to get me out of there?”
“Finally stunned the whole lot of ‘em, didn’t I? Bright light and a loud noise, then once I got you out I let ‘em think the coppers were coming. Which they were, okay, but none too sprightly. Most of ‘em toddled off to nurse their own heads today.”
“You... smote them?”
“Ah, shut it. I didn’t smite ‘em. I just encouraged ‘em to be somewhere else and stop throwing bloody bricks, didn’t I?”
“You really are a d--” Crowley threw him a sharp look. “--dastardly demon, aren’t you? Positively dreadful.”
“That’s better. How’s your head?”
“Also better. You’ve been practicing.”
“Getting someone back on their feet for trouble goes over okay in Hell’s books.” Crowley stood and stalked to the cabinet. Pulled out his best Scotch and took a swig.” Don’t go thinking I’m getting soft.”
Aziraphale couldn’t help but smile. “Wouldn’t dream of it, my dear.”