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The thing was, at the end of a long and tedious day at work, there was always alcohol, and Aziraphale helped himself to a good portion of that.
For many folks, alcohol consumption and indulgence were primarily social activities. The chemicals flooded the brain and lowered one's inhibitions, loosening the fastenings over one's tongue. And while Aziraphale would not usually be averse to this, these days he more frequently consumed alcohol just so he could head straight to sleep.
Crowley didn't know how long Aziraphale had been drinking, but it would appear that he'd already drained an entire bottle by the time Crowley had stepped through the doors of their shared flat one night, after his own long and tedious day at work.
Crowley took one look at him. "Rough day, then?"
Aziraphale's response was somewhere between an irritated huff and a suppressed yawn. Amused, Crowley plucked the wineglass off his hands, set it down on the coffee table, and flopped himself on the sofa right next to him.
"I wasn't done with that," Aziraphale mumbled hoarsely.
In the five years that they had been together, Crowley had never seen Aziraphale drunk on his own. They had always muddled their way through extraordinary amounts of alcohol together, and become silly drunken madmen together. As such, it must've been a severely stressful day if Aziraphale had chosen to head straight to business without waiting for him.
"You want an early night in, not a hangover to wear to work tomorrow." Crowley smiled and patted his thigh. "What was it now?"
Aziraphale's mouth pursed its way through speech. "It's Sandalphon. Som'thin... som'thin with the smear slides."
"Again?" Crowley's face morphed into disgust. "When are they gonna sack the incompetent arse?"
"They seem to have been a fixture into the staff since time immemorial, so I would imagine never."
Knowing him, Aziraphale probably thought that he'd blurted out that magnificent sentence with his usual impeccable articulation, that he'd yet to lose a significant portion of his mental faculties. In truth, however, his tongue had barely kept up with his voice, and the lag time between the two had him sounding more like the engine of Crowley's vintage Bentley during that one (and only!) time it had run out of petrol.
Crowley regarded his dazed expression, his head cocked slightly aside. He leaned close to Aziraphale, trying to catch his gaze to assess his focus. "How much have you had to drink?"
The tips of their hairs brushed, mingling above their foreheads. Aziraphale's eyes, which had been lazily drifting shut just a moment ago, went wide from some astounding revelation.
"What is it?" asked Crowley, suddenly concerned.
His hand came up to cradle Crowley's jaw, pushing to rotate his head one way and back again while Crowley looked on in utter confusion.
"My, you are sooo handsome."
An uncontrollable blush crept up and over the redhead's cheeks. "Right. You're completely plastered."
This was, for some reason, absolutely hilarious to Aziraphale, and he burst into a giggle fit, a glow seemingly radiating from his flushed face. "I mean - look at you!" He caressed Crowley's chin, letting out a dreamy sigh. "Did you know, I always thought you very handsome."
"Hhngh." Crowley kept his face very still.
"I look at you, and I want to kiss you.”
Crowley had to wonder why he sounded sad somehow. He raised a brow.
"You can, you know," he told Aziraphale, giving a glance over at his plush, wine-coloured mouth.
"Really?" Aziraphale had the gall to appear surprised. "How very lucky I am!" He beamed proudly.
Crowley let out a soft chuckle. "Angel, let's get you to bed."
A ring of laughter echoed through the room as Aziraphale held out his arms. Rolling his eyes, Crowley hauled him up to his feet. They stumbled back a little, Aziraphale steadying his footing by clutching tightly onto Crowley's back.
"Easy, angel. Stay with me."
A pair of lazy arms moved to wind around Crowley's neck as Aziraphale kept on giggling. "What if I don't? What if I run out that door right now?"
"Wouldn't be a problem." Crowley slid his hold down to the small of Aziraphale's back, gazing at his thoroughly plastered partner. "I chased after you for years, love. Can very well do it again."
Aziraphale's cheeks were flushed - whether from the alcohol or something else, Crowley wasn't sure.
He leaned up to brush their noses together, grinning. "Now your problem is you can never get rid of me."
"That is so far from being a problem."
With some expert maneuvering, Crowley managed to haul Aziraphale to the bedroom. Aziraphale scooted backwards on the bed, still chuckling as Crowley turned his back and peeled off his clothes and socks.
When Crowley slid into bed next to him, Aziraphale sat up, staring at him.
"Something wrong?" Crowley furrowed his brows.
Rather than responding, Aziraphale crawled across the meagre space between them and straddled his lap. He placed a wet kiss on Crowley's mouth. This made Crowley laugh, but he couldn't exactly make those laughs with Aziraphale blocking the passageway of his mouth, so his chuckles came out as large gusts of breath through his nose instead.
He held Aziraphale by the waist to steady him, his shoulders shaking from his moment of light amusement. Aziraphale pulled back, frowning.
"Sorry, love," mumbled Crowley, feeling his chest swell up. "You're just so cute."
Aziraphale spoke with a sudden burst of focus. "Sometimes I think about marrying you."
Crowley's hands froze from where they'd been caressing Aziraphale's stomach. His brain took a wild dive, wondering why that tone sounded vaguely familiar.
Ah, right.
'I cannot stop thinking about what it would be like to kiss you.'
Damn, did that seem like such a long time ago. And yet, in many ways, it was also somehow the same.
Crowley stared deep into his eyes, still attempting to gauge the extents of his ability to focus, but Aziraphale was swaying lightly in his hold.
"Why don't you?" Crowley asked gently, guiding Aziraphale to lie back down on the pillows.
"Dunno if you would wanna marry me." Aziraphale sighed, his eyes already drifting shut.
"Angel, that's ridiculous."
"So you will marry me?"
Crowley gave him a fond smile as those beautiful light blue eyes began to doze off.
"We'll talk in the morning, love."
Aziraphale opened his eyes, automatically rolling over to reach his phone on the nightstand. His alarm was set to ring in about two minutes, and he promptly switched it off.
His body clock despised sleep so much that alarms for him were superfluous, as he'd always wake up a few minutes earlier than he'd set them to ring for. Alarms for Crowley, however...
He rolled over to his other side, expecting to find a sleeping redhead flopped onto his stomach, but was surprised to find the bed empty.
Confused, he got up and padded across the room. The scent of sizzling butter hit his nose once he opened the door. That was odd. Crowley did like to cook occasionally, but he was least inclined to do it in the early mornings before they both had to head to work. Especially not when the option of sleeping in was there and infinitely more enticing.
What was going on?
Aziraphale sat down on the barstool, watching as Crowley transferred some crepes from a pan onto a plate.
"Hey, angel." Crowley winked and set the plate on the counter in front of him. "Dig in. You're probably hungry after all the drinking you did last night."
As if on cue, his stomach made a loud growling sound. "Well, thank you."
Crowley watched him very carefully as he ate. He usually did that, but for some reason, this time it grated on his nerves. Crowley’s stare was sticky on his skin, crawling right underneath. He clenched his teeth.
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
Crowley leaned his head on his hand, perched casually over the counter by the elbow. "No reason. You don't remember what you said last night, do you?"
"Is there anything of importance I should be remembering?" Aziraphale said haughtily, more to keep his dignity intact than anything else. He refused to consider the possibility that he had said something mortifying while in an inebriated state.
"Oh, I dare say there is."
There was a glint of mischief in Crowley's eyes, and his stomach sank. Right. It was likely he had said something mortifying.
"Well, whatever it is, think nothing of it. People say the damnedest things when drunk, after all."
"Mmm."
Crowley kept staring at him, with that half-amused, half-smug grin on his face that Aziraphale was getting the increasing urge to (metaphorically) slap off of him. He finished his crepes. They were very good, but he was in no mood to compliment Crowley's cooking skills at the moment.
Wordlessly, he got up off his seat and brought the plate over to the sink.
Crowley let out a low chuckle.
And then, he remembered.
The dish slammed down on the sink with great force, clattering against the steel and nearly cracking apart. He blinked, feeling his face grow hot with shame.
'Sometimes I think about marrying you.'
Aziraphale shut his eyes and released a long groan, which Crowley took as his cue to burst into full laughter.
"Not one word, Anthony Crowley!" He was so hot, he was half expecting to break out in sweat any moment now.
"Not a word, angel," Crowley spoke in a rumbling tone from somewhere behind him. He was drawing nearer to Aziraphale, judging by the quiet noise of his footsteps. "I won't say anything. Now turn around."
"You're going to make fun of me."
"I'm not, I promise."
Taking a deep breath, and with a small effort to look defiant, Aziraphale slowly turned around.
Crowley's face was level with his, eyes still alight with mischief. He held up a hand towards Aziraphale's nose, and Aziraphale went a bit cross-eyed before he spotted a silver ring held carefully in between his thumb and forefinger.
"Is... is that?" His voice was trembling.
It was Crowley's turn to blush now, his face fast approaching the shade of his crimson curls.
"I've had this for, um, some time now." With his free hand, he carded his fingers through his unkempt hair and smiled nervously. "Was waiting for... well, I dunno what I was waiting for, but I reserved us a table at the Ritz and all that. Thought that's how you would want it to be done but, well, last night you beat me to it."
Aziraphale pouted. "Last night did not count."
"It so did count." Crowley teased. "Can't back out now, angel."
Aziraphale was still speechless.
Crowley stepped back, his face dropping. "Unless. Unless you didn't mean it, of course. Then I - "
"No!" He closed the distance between them again, clasping onto Crowley's hand. A wave of indescribable emotions surged through him when his palm closed around that silver band, his fingers already itching to claim it. "Crowley, of course I meant it. Of course, I - I..." Tears spilled over on his cheeks before he could register them, his throat low and tight from raw emotion. "Oh, my love, yes. Of course, yes."
Crowley looked stunned, frozen in place, so Aziraphale kissed him.
Their kisses were sloppy, lips barely able to meet from the way they kept smiling. Crowley pulled back so he could slide the ring on Aziraphale's finger, and with one last kiss pressed onto his knuckle, he heaved a huge sigh of relief.
"This has to be a dream," he murmured, staring suspiciously at Aziraphale's hand. "I can't believe I get to have you."
"You've always had me." Aziraphale held up his free hand to cup Crowley's jaw. He had no idea what he'd done to deserve him, but he was so grateful. "There's never been anyone else."
The wave of adoration and relief in Crowley's eyes was piercing. Almost comical. Aziraphale would've laughed had he not been certain that he looked exactly the same, in this very moment.
It certainly hadn't been easy, but they managed to get here somehow. And Aziraphale was more than ready to face what was to come. To share his future with Crowley - his best friend, his love, and his soulmate.
He leaned in to give Crowley another quick kiss, deftly patting his cheek to get him out of that stunned trance he was in.
"Now buck up, dear. We still need to get to work." He headed off in the direction of the bathroom, and he could feel Crowley staring after him as another huge smile made its way on his face.
He looked down at the ring on his finger. They had made it this far. They were going to be fine.
It wasn't perfect, but it was bliss. And considering how far they'd come, he had no doubt that he and Crowley would continue to work things out.
Not for the first time, he considered himself the luckiest in the world for having met Anthony Crowley - and even luckier still to be loved by him.