He'd still been more than half-asleep when the angel had guided him off the bench and over to the gate, asking dazedly if their flight had been called. They'd traversed the long hallway between airport and plane without much incident, settled into their seats and been offered drinks, but the first class chair was clearly more comfortable than the one at the gate. By the time the plane had turned toward the runway, Crowley'd been asleep again.

Aziraphael had spent the flight reading a book that he'd pulled from somewhere in his coat, then staring into space, then reading some more. Generally, he'd picked up again at the top of the same page he had been reading before his thoughts had drifted away.

The next thing Crowley had known was Aziraphael's hand on his shoulder and the bustling noise of people gathering their carry-ons. The angel had watched him closely, but Crowley had waved off his hovering, instead turning his sluggish thoughts to mapping out the quickest way to the car.