This was one that was submitted to someone else as a request, but a few of us wrote it. Another ficlet.
“I've never been drunk before,” Aziraphale started, but Crowley interrupted.
“Bollocks. I'm sorry, Angel, but bollocks. I've seen you drunk loads of times.”
“If you'd let me finish?” Aziraphale said tersely. “What I meant to say was that I've never been drunk in public. Humans seem to have a lot of fun with it. I usually watch how much I imbibe when we go to the Ritz. I've only been to a pub a handful of times. I just think it might be interesting.”
“And of course, I'll need a designated driver.”
“Aziraphale,” Crowley rubbed at his temples, “You can sober up whenever you like. You also walk everywhere or take the bus. Why would you need a designated driver?”
“Well, I suppose chaperon is more like it. What if I don't behave myself? What if something goes wrong?”
“Then why do you want to do this anyway?” Crowley groaned. “We can get good and sloshed here. Or even back at my place, if you'd like.”
“I just think it would be interesting. Nice change of pace.” And Aziraphale gave him that hopeful look. Crowley looked away, trying to hide just how damn smitten he was.
And so the following Friday they found themselves at the nicest pub Crowley was able to find. He didn't think his usual haunts would be up to Aziraphale's standards, no matter how much the angel insisted he just wanted a normal, close to human night.
“Just water,” Crowley muttered to the bar tender as Aziraphale quickly knocked back multiple shots, one right after the other. “Oi, it's not a race. You can pace yourself, you know?”
“I know, I know,” Aziraphale brushed him off. “Could you find somewhere for us to sit, dear? I'll be along in a minute,” turning his attention back to the bartender, he added. “And one more shot and then I think I'll have a glass of wine. What's your nicest?”
Crowley made his way from the bar and found an empty table. He sat down and waited while Aziraphale argued with the bartender about wines for the next ten minutes.
“That man wouldn't know a decent white if it bit him on the-” Aziraphale collapsed into the chair, “Never mind. He had an all right red selection, so I've got that now and I am ...” he hiccuped. “Well, I'm on my way to being quite sloshed, I think. Absolutely hammered.”
“You aren't even slurring yet. I think you'll be ok.”
“Maybe. Maybe,” Aziraphale held his wine up above his head. “To us. And the world,” he guzzled it down. Further proof to Crowley that the wine was beneath Aziraphale's usual standard. He normally savored every drop, even when the goal was to get drunk.
Aziraphale lurched a hand forward and put it on top of Crowley's. “Your skin's soft. Didn't think a snake would have soft skin, back when I first saw you.”
“You're drunk, angel,” Crowley didn't withdraw his hand. It felt nice, at least. And this wasn't at a level Aziraphale was likely to regret in the morning.
“Maybe,” Aziraphale kept his hand perched on Crowley's, but he was staring at the middle of the floor. “Why do you think humans like being drunk?” He didn't let Crowley answer him. “It varies, of course. I think some use it as a numbing agent. To make the hurt go away. Doesn't help though, does it?”
“Ngh.” Crowley didn't mind getting philosophy involved, but he'd prefer to have a sober Aziraphale to converse about such topics with.
“Why is it you always do so much for me, Crowley?”
“I don't do anything for you. We're friends. I just-”
“Bit more than that,” Aziraphale tsked at him, wagging a finger, “No. You love me. I know you love me. I have since that whole blasted thing with the Nazis. Just...awful people, y'know? You stopped them cause you love me,” his voice was sing-song.
“Can we please wait until you're sober for this?” Crowley groaned. He wanted to talk about this. He had wanted to talk about it for years. But not like this.
“Crowley? Crowley, look at me. Please.”
Crowley obliged. Aziraphale's eyes were bright and clear. “Crowley. I haven't been drunk this whole time. It's stupid, I know. I'm sorry. I ...I thought it might be easier to say this way. I was curious about the whole human thing, and then I saw how bad the the wine list here was and …. it doesn't matter. I'm sorry I teased you.”
“I guess it's all right. No use worrying about it now,” Crowley shrugged. “But if we're going to actually talk about this, can we please go to my place? We can drink much better wine there.”
