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You call him 'Dark Glasses'. You could have called him redhead seeing as his hair was the most vibrant red you'd ever seen. There was no way it was natural but that wouldn't be fair to him. Some people can get very touchy about red hair. 

Instead you called him dark glasses.

Dark Glasses came into your bar one day, sauntering over in the late afternoon, not an unnatural occurrence. The bar was basically empty with the exception of two friends that got a head start on the night's drinking. 

Dark Glasses sat down and you could feel the loss and pain flowing off of him, not like how you can tell with people. It wasn't his expression or body language that gave you the impression though, it was as if you felt his emotions. As if they were ebbing off of him. 

"Give me whatever's strongest" He said and you nodded, something told you he needed to drown out his sorrows. 

“One bone dry martini coming right up” you said. 

As you mixed his drink you periodically looked over at him, the poor guy was thrown over the bar as if it was the only thing keeping him from crying. 

You walked over to him and handed him the drink. 

"There you go sir" You said and he perked up only slightly, took the glass from you and downed the entire thing in one go. 

"I'll need another one" He said, pushing the glass back in your direction.

You stared at him, "That, that was a glass of straight vodka. three shots of vodka." You said, stunned. 

"I thought you said this was a martini" The man mumbled. 

"Yes, the glass is coated in a little bit of vermouth, that's what makes it so dry... You just downed three shots of vodka like it was nothing" You said. 

"Got a high tolerance, now can I get another one please?" He asked and honestly you were a bit too stunned to say no. 

After two more though you knew he was done. Normal people, even those with a high tolerance like he apparently has can't drink more than 6 shots of vodka without getting drunk and he was drunk. 

Mind you, not the fun kind he normally is. You're familiar with Dark Glasses when he's drunk. He slurs and gets very bold and flirty as well as clumsy, though not touchy which always surprised you. Now though, now was different. Now he was a sad drunk. Moping all around the bar. He could barely walk, instead he swayed from side to side and his flirting, something you could usually count on to raise your spirits, became lowley grumbling. 

"I think that's enough" You said, taking what little remained of his third glass and pouring it out.

"What? No! I'm fine" He tried to say but struggled with the last word. 

"No, you're drunk. You can stick around but the only thing you're getting is water" You told him and he made a face that almost looked like a snake trying to give puppy dog eyes. 

"Come on Y/N, you know me, I can handle anything" He said, pulling you by the sleeve over the bar. 

He's never initiated contact like that before. Not with anyone. 

"Alright, that's enough. Go home" You told him and he deflated. 

"Can't," He said. 

"What do you mean can't?" You asked. 

He had a home. He'd told you about it. A nice flat in mayfair with lots of plants. 

"Can't. Don't live there anymore" He said and you looked genuinely surprised. Is that what has him so down in the dumps? Was he evicted? Did the bank repossess his apartment?

"What about that bookseller friend of yours in Soho? Can't you stay with him?" You asked and he shook his head. 

"He's gone. He went to heaven" Dark Glasses said.

"Oh I'm so sorry" You said, maybe that was why he was so down. 

"How about this, I finish my shift in a couple hours, you can crash on my couch" You told him. You'd never have said this to anyone else but you knew Dark Glasses. You knew he was sweet though he hated when someone pointed it out and you knew he needed help. 

"You would do that for me?" He asked and you smiled. 

"What can I say, you tip really well" You joked and managed to get a chuckle out of him before he went back to moping. 

A few hours later He was leaning on you as you walked him out of the bar. Somehow still just as drunk as when you'd taken away his last drink.

"Wait, wait, wait, how are we going to your place?" He asked. 

"Car" you said. He wasn't heavy but keeping him walking in a somewhat straight line out was difficult.

"My car?" He asked. 

"No. You are not driving. My car" You told him and led him over to where your slightly beat up old car was parked. 

"Now come on, in you go" You said, trying to help him in. It took a minute but he managed to shimmy in comfortably enough for someone with very little control of their extremities. 

"I don't like this car" He complained. 

"Too bad" you told him, got in and drove off.

"Why are you helping me? You're never this nice" He slurred. 

"You're never this mopey" You retorted. 

"Yeah but, but..." He trailed off. 

"We're almost there just don't fall asleep the last thing I need is to try to drag you up to my place" You said and he nodded. 

"Don't worry, I won't, I can sober up whenever I want" He said and you shook his head. Sometimes Dark Glasses said the craziest things when he was drunk. Sometimes he'd say them when he wasn't drunk but that was neither here nor there. 

You eased him through the door to your flat and he smiled. 

"You have plants, very nice Y/N" He said and you smiled. 

"Thank you now you go sit down before you collapse all over my floor" You told him and he did as he was told, sitting down and then sprawling himself over your couch. 

"He used to do this too, when I was too drunk, he'd bring me in and tell me to sit" he slurred and you turned to him, confused. 

"Who?" You asked. 

“My angel” Dark Glasses said. You came over to him with a glass of water.

"It's hard, when someone dies. Grief is a powerful thing" You told him and he shrugged. 

"I wouldn't know" he said, slurping down the contents of the cup. 

"Just sleep. You'll feel better in the morning" you told him, spreading a blanket over him and placing the cup on the coffee table. 

"Try to make it to the toilet if you puke" You told him and went to bed yourself. 

Crowley had never been hungover. He'd always sober up before it got to that point but this time he didn't. Even the thought of sobering up made him think of his drinking sessions with Aziraphale. 

But Aziraphale left. He went to heaven and left Crowley to drown out his sorrows the human way. 

The first thing you woke up to was the loud sound of someone vomiting. 

"Please god let him have made it to the toilet" You said to yourself, throwing off the blacket and going to check on your mysterious guest. 

She must have thought it would be funnier to scare you because Crowley in fact made it to the toilet. Luckily. 

Crowley was practically puking his life out, once it was all out, at least for now, he heaved. 

"How do humans do this?" He asked. He had half a mind to miracle it all away.

"With years of practice" You said, making your presence known. 

"Ahhh!" He shouted, falling back on his butt only to rub at his head and groan, "Ugh". Now everything hurt even more than before.

He still had his sunglasses on, though the bathroom lights were off and the sun hadn’t even come up yet. 

"I always thought you were pretty strange but now I'm starting to wonder if you're sane at all" You said. 

"If you're worried I'll go crazy and attack you, you needn't be." He said quietly and you rolled your eyes. 

"As if you could with the way you are right now, you look like you've been dragged through hell" You said and Crowley looked back down at the toilet. 

"Oh you have no idea" He said. 

At this point he was simply sitting criss-crossed in front of the toilet so you sat down on the bathroom floor next to him. Checking the time, it had only been a few hours.  

"I know you've gotten drunk before, have you seriously never been hungover?" You asked. 

"Never" He said. 

"I don't think I believe you" You said. 

“Well it’s the truth” He said. 

“You are one strange specimen Glasses” You said.

“Glasses?” He asked. 

“Oh, um, you never told any of us at the bar what your name was so we just called you Dark Glasses… cause you’re always wearing your dark—”

“Yeah I get it” He said. “It’s Crowley by the way” 

“That’s quite the original name” You said.

“Used to be Crawley but that was a bit too” He made a hissing noise with his tongue and you noticed it was thin and split, like a snake’s.

“You know sometimes I wonder if you’re even human with all the strange shit that comes out of your mouth” You joked and Crowley laughed and then smirked. 

“You wanna know a secret?” He asked. 

You looked at him skeptically. “Do I?” You asked. 

He shrugged, “It’s up to you really” He said. 

“Then, yeah I guess”

“I’m a demon” He said. 

You chuckled.

He didn’t laugh. 

“No”

“Yes”

“I was the serpent of eden” He said, smiling.

“That’s not– no… cause that would mean that god” He nodded, “And satan” He nodded again. 

“The world almost ended four years ago” He says. It’s almost as if seeing your reaction is helping him get his spirits back. 

“You can’t just drop a bomb like that and move on!”

…

“How come it didn’t?” You asked. 

“We convinced the antichrist that the earth was actually pretty nice” He said.

“We?” You asked. 

“Aziraphale… and I” He said, his voice dwindling. 

“He’s that bookseller friend of yours right?” You asked and Crowley nodded.

“He’s the one that died, I’m so sorry Crowley” You said, putting a comforting hand on Crowley’s shoulder. 

“He didn’t die.” Crowley said. 

You looked at him, “But you said he went to heaven” “He’s an angel, my angel” Crowley said, his voice wasn’t a white, it was more just, sad and full of grief. 

“He went off to become the new supreme archangel of all of heaven” Crowley said, this time he was in fact whining. 

“Well then, he could come back” You said but Crowley shook his head.

“Not after he said he forgave me” He said. 

“Forgave you for what?” “Kissing him,” Crowley said sorrowfully. 

Oh.