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“There you are then hen, off you pop,” Crowley says to Elspeth before she runs out of the crypt, leaving Aziraphale behind with him.
Aziraphale watches her go before he turns and looks up at Crowley, a hint of a smile on his face. “That was… something, Crowley,” he calls up to the now giant demon.
Crowley grins, clearly very satisfied with himself. “Aye, it was, wasn't it?” Clearly the effects of the laudanum were still running rampant within his system.
“Mm… well, you’ve done your bit, now you can…” The angel gestures with his hands for Crowley to shrink down again. “And we can leave here.” He looks at Crowley expectantly.
The demon, however, isn’t playing ball. “Why? I’m having fun!”
Aziraphale’s brows rise, almost meeting his hairline. “Crowley, you can’t be serious! You’ll draw attention to yourself… and not all of the humans will react the same as Elspeth.”
“Ack, they’ll be shakin’ in their boots. Thinkin’ the devil’s come to pay them a little visit,” Crowley slurs out.
“Precisely. That’s not what we need right now. Now if you’d kindly return to your normal size, we can be done here.” Aziraphale tries to reason.
“And what if I refuse, Dr. McFell?” The other mocks.
Aziraphale’s face becomes stern and he huffs. “Crowley that is quite enough! You can’t stay this size. I won’t allow it. Now shrink back down. Immediately!”
“Fine.” Crowley rolls his eyes behind his glasses and gives it a try, being met with failure. “I… can’t.”
“What do you mean you can’t? You had no trouble shrinking to the size of a mouse before.”
“I wasn’t in control…” Crowley admits.
“Not in control?”
“Laudanum… hell of a thing, isn’t it?”
Aziraphale’s eyes scrunch shut in exasperation. “Oh no. We need something to counteract it then. Any ideas?”
“I dunno. You’re the angel, you figure it out.” Crowley shrugs.
Aziraphale sighs. “Why must I always be the one to fix your messes?” He thinks for a moment. “Mr. Dalrymple! He was the one Elspeth stole the Laudanum from. Perhaps he has something to help?”
“Perhaps he does.”
The angel’s gaze flicks back up towards Crowley, holding his hands up. “Stay here. The last thing we need is you wandering around Edinburgh like this. You’ve done quite enough damage already,” he says as he glances around at the ceiling of the crypt which has a huge hole in it where Crowley broke through.
“Can’t exactly go anywhere, can I? Besides, not like you can lose me like this, eh?” Crowley flashes the angel a grin.
“I’ll be back soon. Just… try not to cause any more trouble,” Aziraphale says before he strides off towards Dalrymple’s place.
Once there he knocks the door and waits anxiously, glancing around. The door opens moments later, revealing the man himself. “Ah, Dr. McFell was it? What can I do ya for?”
“You’re here, good. I was rather hoping you could help me with an incident involving laudanum. You wouldn’t happen to have an antidote lying around, would you?” Aziraphale babbles out, acutely aware of the time he has.
“Laudanum? Y’know, I’m missing a bottle of that… you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?" Dalrymple questions.
Aziraphale’s eyes widen slightly before he shakes his head quickly. “Me? Oh, no, not at all. Um, but… the antidote. Do you have one?”
Mr. Dalrymple frowns for a moment before he walks inside, muttering about Elspeth. When he returns he’s holding a small glass vial of murky liquid. “This should do the trick. Just not too much. It’s rather powerful,” he cautions as he hands it over.
“I doubt that will be an issue,” the angel mutters as he pockets the vial on the inside breast pocket of his jacket, patting it twice. “Thank you. You’ve been most helpful. Have a good evening, Mr. Dalrymple.”
Aziraphale breathes a small sigh of relief as he heads back to the graveyard and straight to the crypt. “Crowley… ah, you’re still here, good.”
“Where else would I be, angel?”
The other ignores Crowley, rolling his eyes before he reaches into his jacket and pulls out the vial. “I have the antidote. Mr. Dalrymple did warn against drinking too much, but I don’t think he quite realises the scale of the problem I’m dealing with,” he says as he gives Crowley a look up and down.
The angel holds the vial up and Crowley snatches it, looking at it closely. “Wee bit small, isn’t it?” He mumbles, forgetting his own size for a moment before he shrugs and downs the entire thing in one.
He almost immediately scrunches his face in disgust. “Ugh, that tastes vile!”
“Hm, yes, well, that serves you right. Perhaps you should have thought about that before you consumed laudanum and got yourself stuck like this,” Aziraphale chides and straightens himself up. “Now… Can you try to return to something close to normal size? It’s rather a pain craning to look up at you like this, you know.”
Crowley cracks his neck one way and then the other before he begins to concentrate.
At first nothing seems to happen and Aziraphale is almost worried, but then he begins to rapidly return to his normal height, pausing at the exact inch. He still appears to be drunk on the laudanum, though the effects are quite dulled down now. His accent returns to normal as well.
“Good. That’s better, isn’t it. Nice when we can see eye-to-eye,” Aziraphale jabs before he turns to leave the crypt.
Crowley smirks, following him. “Oh, come on angel, you talk like you’ve never been drunk on it before.”
“Certainly not! It would kill me.”
“Really?” Aziraphale just nods at him as he walks, hands clasped together. “Then… what makes angels drunk?”
Aziraphale gives him a look. “Rosewater,” he mumbles.
“Rosewater?!” Crowley practically bursts into laughter. “And… have you ever-?”
“No! Not at all. It’s a sin to get drunk. You know this,” the angel protests, but his body language suggests otherwise.
“You have! Oh, go on, do tell.” The demon’s voice comes out like velvet as he speaks into the other’s ear. A sly smirk rests on his lips.
Aziraphale tuts at himself before he sighs in defeat. “It was a long time ago. Once. That’s all.”
“Mmm… and? How did it affect you?”
“Hm? Oh, much the same as you. Except I got stuck in a matchbox.”
“You what?” Crowley asks with mirth in his voice.
“I got stuck in a matchbox,” the angel repeats, giving Crowley a side glance.
Crowley’s tongue rests on his top lip. “And how, pray tell, did you manage that?”
“Well… like you I lost control and ended up very small. And Muriel, bless them, thought I looked cute inside the matchbox… and then they forgot about me for… three days,” he muttered the last part.
“Three days? But wouldn’t the effects-”
“Wear off? Mhm, oh they did.” Aziraphale nodded with an annoyed tone.
Crowley chuckles. “And what did that look like?”
“Well, all was fine… until I suddenly and quite unceremoniously burst out of the matchbox, frightening everyone, including poor Muriel, half to death. That was the first and last time I let someone talk me into getting drunk. I didn’t enjoy it and neither did the matchbox as pieces of it flew everywhere.”
This is when Crowley completely bursts into laughter. “Oh, what I wouldn’t pay to have seen that.”
“Mm, I can imagine,” Aziraphale mutters, raising his eyebrow.
“Don’t pout, angel. It’s not that embarrassing. Sounds rather adorable.” Crowley grins as he saunters off in front, leaving Aziraphale behind with pink tipped ears and rosy cheeks.