Azirphale's giddiness slowly mellowed to fascination as he stared at Crowley's outstretched hand. One detail he left out from his recap was the how after Armageddon was averted, they'd taken the bus back together to Crowley's apartment, since his bookshop had burned down. In was there that he felt courageous enough to breech the gap that was always between them by slipping his hand into Crowley's on that ride. No words were exchanged at the time - none were needed. It was natural and liberating. They also held hands to transform to one another, but it was not as significant as that first time
Thing was, Crowley didn't have that memory, what to speak of that experience, so for him... this was his first time. And Aziraphale wanted to make it special.
His gaze flickered to Crowley's face, and with the sweetest of smiles, he took that hand and rose to his feet. A little too quickly, it seemed, since he felt his head spin, but not so bad as to be a problem. Ah, but those eyes! They were hypnotizing, and more intoxicating than any wine mortals ever made.
Then came a pause, as Aziraphale reflected on what Crowley had said. To clarify, he asked falteringly, the way somebody who was tipsy would, "Urm. How... in what way... were you thinking we ought to... be commemorating? The future."