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“Come on,” Crowley says. “Aziraphale, you can do it, it’s just a little farther.”
“I know,” Aziraphale says, and his voice is far more breathless than he’d like. “I will- don’t worry about me.”
Crowley is walking very close now. He’s worrying. Aziraphale can tell. Right after Aziraphale told him not to, too! Aziraphale sighs, and it’s far too shaky. Oh dear.
“I’m-” he begins, and of course it’s right there that he stumbles and can’t- quite- catch himself. His head won’t stop moving toward the ground, won’t lean back and balance the rest of him out, he’s getting all tangled, he’s going to fall-
Crowley catches him. Crowley catches him, and hauls him upright, and holds him there, letting Aziraphale lean into him. It terribly undermines Aziraphale’s previous assertions that he was just fine, and he knows Crowley is going to be angry with him later, and he really, really does not want Crowley to let go.
“You aren’t,” Crowley says, and sighs. “Damn it, Aziraphale, I asked.”
“I know,” Aziraphale says, tremblingly. “Don’t let go. I thought I- I’m sorry. I can’t. It hurts.”
“I know it hurts,” Crowley huffs. “Don’t apologize. Just stop being so stubborn.”
Aziraphale tries to make an affronted noise, but it sounds rather like a whimper. “I’m sorry,” he whispers again.
Crowley makes an incoherent noise of frustration, and then Aziraphale is being lifted off his feet and cradled in Crowley’s arms, oh-so-carefully.
“I don’t care if you think you’re fine,” Crowley says. “I’m overruling that.”
“Okay,” Aziraphale whispers, and he knows that they both know he’s given in. He tries to hang onto Crowley’s shoulder to help hold himself up.
“Not far now,” Crowley says, and his tone has gone soft again. “Just stay with me.”
Aziraphale nods, and he tucks his head against Crowley’s shoulder, and he lets Crowley carry him to safety.