The two met a couple more times, exchanging nothing more than a quick 'hello' or a 'scotch on the rocks, yeah?" but this time was different. When Crowley entered the bar, Mal gave him a slight wave.

"Same as always, Crowley?" Crowley nodded his head, and Mal went to work. They handed Crowley his usual, and he sat on a stool at the bar.

"Much more chatty, are we?" Mal huffed and turned her back to him, shaking her head.

"Much more frequent, are we? What's up this time?" Crowley sipped at his scotch, a single ginger brow raised.

"Who says that I need a reason to have a nightcap?"

"Whatever. Drink your nightcap and get out, ginger." Crowley chuckled, slowly downing his scotch.

"Who said that I wanna hurry and drink it, huh?" Mal groaned, leaning against their side of the bar. They raised a brow of their own, a frown on their lips.

"You're a pain in my ass, huh?" Crowley laughed harder this time, the end of it ending in a slight hiss.

"You could say that. Or you could say that I'm a friend, hm?" Mal scoffed, rolling their eyes.

"As if. Hurry your ass up; I want to go home."

"I could go slower. It's not safe to drink a full glass of scotch in one." they clenched their fists against the bar, whining lightly.

"Please, just finish your fucking drink." Mal pleaded, to which Crowley did indeed finish his drink.

"There. Need some help cleaning up, or can I go the fuck home?" Mal hit him with her towel, to which he pouted, "I could just never come here again; service is bloody terrible."

"I couldn't care less. One less person to give me shit while I'm trying to work." Crowley stood, setting a bill once again.

"Oh please, you'd miss me too much." Mal laughed, wiping down the glass he just had.

"You wish. Now, please leave." Crowley nodded and went to the door while turning.

"What do you say to me taking you out for drinks on your day off?"

"I'll bite, I guess. You seem nice enough." Crowley grinned and left the bar. Mal set the stools on the bar table and exited the bar while they locked the door.

^^^^^^

A few nights later, the two went to a bar downtown, riding in his vintage Bentley--which ran amazingly, by the way--, and as they exited the car and opened the door, Mal breathed in the smell of cigarettes and beer.

"Smells familiar?" Crowley asked sarcastically, to which Mal elbowed him in the ribs.

"Of course it does; I work in a fucking bar." the two walk up to the bar, occupying two stools.

"Of course, how could I forget." Mal hissed at him, ordering herself a vodka, Crowley himself ordering a scotch.

"Anyway, why did you invite me to drink here when I run a perfectly good bar myself?" Crowley took his drink from the bartender, sliding Mal's over to them.

"Just tempted to see what other bars there are. Ones that won't shoo me out and use explicatives." the 'tempted' sounded rather smooth, exiting Crowley's lips, which did not go unnoticed by Mal.

"Oh please, see if I care." Mal rolled their eyes, drinking from her glass.

"Well, you would've said no if you didn't care, now would ya?" they did not answer, choosing to take another drink.

"Whatever."

"Up for a getting-to-know-you game?" Crowley suggested, to which Mal snorted into her glass.

"What?"

"Like, I know absolutely nothing about you. I know nothing except your name and that you're a raving bitch."

"OK, uhm, I'm Mallorie Taylor, Mal for short. I go by they/them pronouns, and I enjoy liquor." Mal left out a detail that most certainly would have raised a brow was it just an ordinary human being and not Crowley, an infamous demon. Of course, Mal didn't know that he was one.

"Intriguing. I'm Anthony J. Crowley, Crowley for short, and I go by he/him pronouns, and I have houseplants." Crowley as well left out the one detail, the one that would make or break a friendship.

"Houseplants? You talk to them, don't you?" Crowley's face turned red, looking away from them, "oh my god, you do! Do you whisper sweet-nothing to them?" Crowley made a sound in the back of his throat, taking a drink of his scotch.

"No, I do NOT whisper sweet-nothing into their ears," Crowley turned around to face them, a large grin going onto his features, "I instill fear into them." Mal's lips trembled with mirth until they began laughing loudly, their hands setting down their glass shakily.

"Fear? Do you yell at them? Oh my, that's outright fucking hilarious." Crowley mocked them, using his hand to pretend it was speaking.

"You're hilarious."

"Was that supposed to be a backhand comment? Wow, I'm so hurt." Mal took down the rest of her vodka, harshly setting the glass down on the bar.

"You should be," Crowley had as well finished his, ordering another, "do you want another vodka to go with that cold heart? You don't even need ice." Mal laughed sarcastically and nodded.

"Bold of you to assume I have a heart."

"Bold of you to assume I have one." the drinks were brought over, and the two talked about their many hobbies. (Crowley enjoyed annoying his best friend, Aziraphale; Mal also enjoyed cooking and annoying their respective best friend).

Soon enough, the bar was closing, and the two hung off each other as they exited the bar, "wow, c-can't handle your liquor, huh, Anthony?" Crowley scoffed, tripping over his own feet.

"I'm plenty," Crowley hiccuped loudly, "sober, I'll have you know." Mal scoffed at that, the two leaning against the Bentley to catch their breath.

"I don't think either of us is capable of driving. Well, at least, you definitely aren't. So, I guess you give me the keys." they reached for them.

"Ngk, fine. Here are the bloody keys."