Crowley goes through the wine quickly. By the time their dinner has properly started, he is three glasses in. It's not entirely productive to a discussion concerning the road ahead - and he certainly isn't going to bring up Heaven now - but the angel doesn't comment. He can tell how hard the past year has been on his friend, and how difficult this is for him, even if he had gone out of his way to cheer Aziraphale's spirits. He could have this moment.
In any case, he's certain that it's the wine inspiring the raw honesty when Crowley admits to having saved this restaurant for them after their break.
"Oh-", he mutters, almost inaudible, lips pursing togeter. Thankfully, Crowley doesn't seem to want to talk about it any more than he does.
While the food is absolutely delicious, the enthousiasm of that first bite doesn't stick, and Aziraphale leaves nearly half of his plate untouched. Not wanting to appear ungrateful, he makes a show of appreciating the few morsels that do pass his lips before he motions for the waiter to take their plates. Crowley's intoxication is silently welcomed, if only because it makes him slightly less attentive than usual.
"I do think that is the responsible decision", he replies when Crowley asks him to drive the rest of the way to Edinburgh, "though I don't want to hear any complaints about driving the speed limit."
It's also the perfect excuse to push his own unfinished glass of wine towards his him, "perhaps you should take care of this then."
He shifts in his chair as he leans forward, and his leg brushes against Crowley's outstretched ones. He looks up, certain that their eyes meet despite the dark shades obsuring those of his companion, but instead of pulling away, he settles, letling their legs touch underneath the table as if it's the most normal thing in the world.
"Given that we don't presently have miracle money, perhaps it would also be sensible to skip desert? I can't imagine a dinner like this comes cheap."
A little while later, they are out in the parking lot again. The sun has properly set now, and the night air is cool on the angel's skin as he walks besides a slightly unstable Crowley. He must have opted for a rather low alcohol tolerance these days to be so affected over the course of dinner. There is a single step down separating the parking lot from the cobblestone path leading up to the in. Crowley, sauntering a few steps in front of the angel remains oblivious to its presence until he misses it alltogether. Aziraphale moves forward as if by instinct, but the demon manages to keep upright, seemingly by sheer force off will, and his hand is left hovering in the air for a split second. Then, he takes another step forward and holds out his arm, giving his friend an expectant look. His face displays much more confidence than he feels, eyes silently pleading not to reject the offered proximity.
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