"Bul– Boul– Bowl- Boulevard." Aziraphale murmured, eyebrows furrowed. "Boulevard?"

"Boulevard." Crowley agreed, voice slurred as he leaned back against the couch. The wine glass in his hand almost completely empty and his shades long sense forgotten about.

"Anyways... as I was saying-" Crowley was cut off by several knocks on the front door of the bookstore, making him huff softly. "Now why on god's green earth-"

"Oh hush." Aziraphale sighed, not as drunk as Crowley, but getting there. As the angel reached the front door, he fixed up his coat and tie before opening the door with a smile on his face.