A/N: In which Crowley and Aziraphale are drunk, silly, and a little bit sloppy. Suggestive at the end, but not NSFW.
"You have not."
"Yes I have!" Aziraphale retorted, and Crowley guffawed.
"You never."
"Oh for- I have so." Crowley shook his head doubtfully, emptying the last dregs of their current bottle of wine into his glass. There had been a great many bottles of wine that night, and though as usual he had consumed far more than his companion, the angel had drunk his fair share.
"Mmm…" Crowley pursed his lips, feigning deep consideration as he took a deep swallow from the glass, then smacked his lips in decision. "Okay, ssshow me then." Aziraphale heaved himself from the deep, comfortable chair that seemed to get miraculously deeper and more comfortable when he drank, and gestured at the demon with a greater vehemence than he might have if sober.
"Fine! Come on then." He staggered slightly as he started out, but seemed to regain his bearings as he acquired the railing of the staircase, and set off determinedly towards the bookshop's upper floor. Crowley followed suit, his gait more swively (if that were possible) than it was when not under the influence of alcohol. He followed a vaguely muttering Aziraphale through the shelves and stacks of books, until at last the angel found what he was looking for.
"There!" Aziraphale cried, nearly whipping Crowley in the face with the scroll he had retrieved from groaning shelf, "you see?" With as much dexterity as he could muster, he unrolled the top few inches of the scroll. "Catalogued in the hand of the curator herself from the library of Alexandria. It was one of the few I managed to save. Ooohh if I could go back and get my hands on Ceasar—"
"Hmm, hmm Angel," Crowley interrupted, seizing the scroll, "you know, you're so -hic- ssssexy when you get riled up—" he leaned in and cut off Aziraphale's literate rage with a kiss, haphazardly pushing the angel back against the bookshelf as he did so, and depositing the scroll wherever he could reach. Aziraphale gasped into the kiss, and his hands found their way to Crowley's back. Even after all this time, his demon could still catch him off guard with passion.
"I can cure those hiccupssss for you, you know," Aziraphale breathed into Crowley's lips when at last they came up for air, in a playful mockery of the hiss that became more pronounced when the demon was drunk.
"Oh, can you?" Crowley asked with feigned innocence, and his body seemed to melt against Aziraphale. He slithered to the floor, until he stood upon his knees, one hand caught in his angel's waistband and inching towards its buttons. He looked up at Aziraphale, and the electric candlelight above glittered golden in his eyes, which now held no suggestion of innocence. "Okay. Sssshow me, then."
Aziraphale blushed furiously. But he did not stop the progress of Crowley's clever fingers, and his own found their way into the impossible scarlet hair at his waist as he leaned back into the books with a groan of hazy pleasure.