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The set place is 1793, Paris, Crowley and Aziraphale are currently in the midst of a big revolution.
Of course Crowley is there to swoon and save his darling angel
Crowley was on his usual stroll through the now mess of a town which he may have been part of hours ago, causing some havoc as he yelled out what he knew would anger the crowd immensely. He of course was again looking for the angel, trying to find any sign of the pure being, of course he would, he was bored nonetheless. At least that's what he'd tell himself as he walked through the crowded streets; he was just bored, no other reason, the other reason wouldn't make sense, he was far too stubborn to even glance at the idea that he may have a favoritism for Aziraphale, he never could. Soon he'd be snapped out of his spaced mind at the sound of the far too recognisable voice, a voice he'd known for a long while, one he'd heard with a tone which was insistent and "better than you" in a way that wasn't crude. His eyes met the barred enclosure of an alley window, now knowing that the higher than usual voice was the Angel he'd come to know, undoubtedly in some sort of predicament. Of course he was, heaven knows the Angel couldn't properly Guide himself in the Chaos of the destructful town. At least not without the Demon Crowley over his shoulder to ensure safety.
It was an odd sight, a 'Cruel' Demon forcing his way into a human's home to save an Angel he swore he didn't care about. Though the oddest thing about this was the way he had gone about doing it, especially with all he had risked by even entering, of course he would risk himself for the darling Angel.
He'd storm into the building pushing past the barbarian like humans he'd seen pushing against the Angels cell, who'd know how long he'd been there. Aziraphale was of course both surprised and joyous to be saved from the humans. No he wouldn't be killed by a mere poison he was given but he most definitely was much happier without the symptoms. Aziraphale could never quite put his finger on why Crowley was always so sure in himself when offering kindness, though when he'd do something evil he'd be awkward like a nervous nipping dog that doesn't quite wanna bite. Crowley would again as all those times before offer his hand, which was warmed by the glove he had on. Aziraphale found himself growing more and more comfortable with the polite gestures of the demon. Crowley was able to easily push the two past the crowd, hearing a few rough words as the angered men seemed not as interested in physically stopping them.
Upon exiting into the near alley they'd discover it had quickly become night, of course, time always went by quick when the angel was near him. Crowley was always fond of their nightly walks, it'd always feel like some sort of test of fate; given the pair were sticking out like sore thumbs. Crowley would give Aziraphale a guiding pat to the back leading him back to his home, he was careful when guiding the angel, taking into consideration that Angel's usually had horrible vision when it came to the dark, it wasn't an excuse to feel him closer of course. Crowley was quickly met with his front door within minutes, he'd dispose of his coat when the warm air of his home welcomed the two. Aziraphale on the other hand kept to himself awkwardly, it had been the first time he'd gone into the Demons home. Of course was nervous about it, he never did know when the archangels had been focused on him, he had gotten himself into trouble for 'mangling' with an enemy, though Aziraphale knew deep down Crowley wouldn't harm him. Aziaraphale sat himself on the edge of Crowleys couch watching him walk smoothly around the house swaying softly. Aziraphale always adored how the Demon was so confident in each step, though of course he kept his thoughts to himself; such comments would make him fall for the tempter's trap.
Aziraphale had noticed himself staring too much and his gaze returned to the hardwood floor, there were few marks on the floor, the rose red carpet on the floor matched the demon so well.