Archive of Our Own

‘1967’ (26 years old) Soho, London

“Come on, come on, come on,” Crowley muttered desperately under his breath as he turned the key in the Bentley’s ignition again.

‘Oooh, the machine of a dream…’ played briefly out of the speakers before cutting off when the engine abruptly stalled.

“Not at the moment, you’re not!”

Crowley tried again.

‘Bicycle, bicycle, bicycle, I want to ride my bicycle, bicycle, bicycle…’

“Grr! Trust me, if I had one, I would be,” he grumbled as the engine cut out again. Crowley paused to suck in and then release a breath through gritted teeth before turning the ignition key for one last attempt. “Don’t do this to me, not today. I have plans, big plans, big important plans. I—”

‘I want to break free…’

“Yes!”

The engine temporarily revved to life, spluttered, then died.

“Noo!” Crowley wailed, banging his head against the steering wheel several times in exasperated defeat.

“Five years and not a scratch. Now look at you,” he lamented. “Why did you have to choose today of all days to break down?” Keeping his forehead pressed to the wheel, Crowley turned to eye his phone lying on the passenger seat and sighed. He’d text Aziraphale first to let him know he’d be running late and then call roadside assistance.

Resigned to having to wait longer than planned to see his boyfriend, Crowley picked up his phone and started typing out a text to him explaining what had happened. Hopefully roadside assistance wouldn’t take too long to arrive to fix the problem and he’d still get home in time for their special dinner. Crowley had a couple of hours until then, but he would’ve preferred to use that time getting everything ready.

Yes, Crowley had plans — and they definitely didn’t include spending the evening of his and Aziraphale’s seven-year anniversary stuck by himself in a multi-storey car park in Soho.

***

Umbrella up, Aziraphale skirted around newly-forming puddles, determined in his quest to get to Crowley. Truth be told, this was not how he’d envisioned spending their anniversary evening, but needs must. Crowley’s texts had steadily become more despairing over the last couple of hours, (the breakdown company still not having reached him) and Aziraphale didn’t want to waste the evening being apart. After all, Crowley was only a brisk twenty minute walk from their flat. And Aziraphale would endure much more than a trek in some inclement weather to be with him tonight.

He had spent the afternoon sprucing up their lovely Mayfair flat, arranging candles, and red and white roses, as well as making a decadent tiramisu for dessert. Crowley had planned to make them his signature spicy vodka rigatoni for dinner, but they could enjoy all of that once they were finally back home. The important thing was to be together, and so Aziraphale had decided that if Crowley couldn’t make it to their anniversary, he’d bring their anniversary to him. Or at least part of it.

He smiled, thinking of the thermos tucked safely away in his backpack. Yes, Aziraphale had plans — and they didn’t involve sitting around at home by himself on their seven-year anniversary.

Rounding the corner onto Brewer Street, he saw the multi-storey come into view. Just in time too, as the weather was starting to worsen. Unless Aziraphale was mistaken, he’d just heard a distant rumble of thunder.

“Now, let me see,” he wondered out loud, stepping into the shelter of the car park as he closed his umbrella to give it a shake, “I’m sure Crowley said he’d parked on the ground floor because of all the props he needed to carry back and forth.”

Luckily, since it had already gone seven at night, the car park was relatively empty, and it didn’t take Aziraphale long to spot their dark grey and black van in a quiet corner.

“Hello, dear,” he said cheerfully, swinging open the passenger door.

Crowley, who was peering peevishly at his phone as if it had wronged him in some way, startled, almost dropping it in his lap. “Shit! What are you doing here?” he asked, hastily clearing an empty water bottle and sandwich container off the passenger seat so Aziraphale could sit down.

Depositing his backpack and damp umbrella in the footwell, Aziraphale settled himself beside Crowley, closing the door. “Needed a word with you,” was all he elucidated for now. Then, with a pleased smile he leaned forwards to give his boyfriend a soft kiss on the lips.

Crowley hummed happily as they broke apart, seeming to relax a little. “Not that I’m not pleased to see you of course, but...” He looked down at the umbrella. “Wait, did you walk here in the rain for me?”

“Well, it wasn’t raining when I started out, but yes,” Aziraphale confirmed. “I decided you were worth it, possible storm and all. Now, what appears to be wrong with our Bentley?"

Crowley sighed. “Dunno. Something to do with the engine and the electrics maybe? Whenever I turn it on, this happens.” He put the key in the ignition to demonstrate and the van started up.

There was just enough time for ‘Thunderbolt and lightning, very, very frightening…’ to sing out of the speakers before the engine suddenly cut out.

“Ah,” offered Aziraphale.

“Yeah,” replied Crowley glumly. “I think whatever’s wrong is somehow linked to the wiring in the CD player too, because she just keeps blasting random bits from Queen’s Greatest Hits at me.” He shook his head. “The last update I had from roadside assistance said I’d have to wait at least another hour though, as technically I’m in a ‘safe place’.”

“I’m sorry, darling,” Aziraphale said, reaching for Crowley’s hand to give it a squeeze. “At least we’re here together now, so no matter what the location, our anniversary celebrations can officially begin.”

Withdrawing his hand, Aziraphale reached down to unzip his backpack and started bringing out several small Tupperware containers, which he placed on the centre console between them. He’d even taken the time to lovingly write ‘eat me’ on little heart post-it notes and stick them to each tub to make them look more special.

“Ha! Those are sweet. I should put one on you,” Crowley joked with a waggle of his eyebrows, causing Aziraphale to chuckle. “But,” Crowley looked around them forlornly, “just because I need to stay with the car, doesn’t mean that you should have to suffer too. I mean, a multi-storey car park is hardly the most idyllic of settings to start our anniversary off, is it? I had plans, proper romantic plans, and now they’re all gonna be— Angel! Just how many containers have you packed in that thing!?”

Aziraphale paused, the fifth (and last, thank-you-very-much) container still in his hand. He added it carefully to the teetering pile between them. “Well, I wasn’t sure how long we’d be here, so I thought I’d pack up our antipasti in case we got peckish. Besides, like I’ve told you many a time before, we’re in this together. I’m not going to leave you on your own, least of all on our anniversary.”

Crowley smiled fondly back at him, finally seeming to relax properly and accept the situation. “Thanks, angel. This is actually a really lovely idea.” His smile turned into a smirk as he tried to peek at what else was inside the bag. “You didn’t happen to bring any wine along, did you?” he teased.

“No, I decided it would be best to leave the bottle of Châteauneuf-du-Pape at home. But I do have a bottle of water for us to share. We also have grapes, stuffed olives, prosciutto, mini seeded breadsticks, and some cubes of a rather lovely pecorino I found at the Italian delicatessen. And in case we’re here even longer than expected, I’ve also packed a thermos of — now, how did you put it when we met in St James’s Park after my trial show? — ah, yes, ‘holy water’ to replenish our ‘angelic essences’.” Aziraphale placed the tartan thermos, complete with its heart post-it saying ‘drink me’ carefully beside him on the seat. “But that’s for later, so don’t go unscrewing the cap,” he added firmly.

“Pfft,” his boyfriend scoffed. “There’s nothing angelic about me.”

“Oh, yes, you’re quite the foul fiend. A real demonic entity,” Aziraphale assured him with a wry smile as he soothingly patted his black paisley-clad forearm. “Which is precisely why I also added a couple of shots of strong espresso to the hot chocolate for you, darling. I thought you’d be in need of a boost.”

Crowley’s face softened. “Thanks, angel. Have I told you I love you yet today?” he asked, leaning in closer.

“Only twice this morning and once over text so far,” Aziraphale replied with a grin.

“Humm, hardly at all then,” Crowley murmured, his eyes unbearably fond as he pressed his lips to Aziraphale’s for another tender kiss.

Melting into it, Aziraphale forgot about everything else but the slow slide of lips against each other for several long seconds.

When they drew apart, he smiled contentedly, Crowley mirroring him with his kiss-blushed lips.

“Right,” Aziraphale said, coming back to himself a little. Fishing in his bag, he pulled out a paper napkin, unfolded it, and proudly presented Crowley with a tiny wooden picnic fork.

His boyfriend took it with a snigger. “Thanks.”

“Now, shall we make a start on all this?” he asked eagerly. “You can tell me about how your workshop at the primary school went this afternoon while we eat.” Opening the top container, he offered Crowley his choice of stuffed olives. “So, what did the children have to say about the Swinging Sixties then?”

***

“Mmm, that was scrumptious,” Aziraphale said, dabbing his mouth with a paper napkin.

He and Crowley had managed to polish off most of the antipasti while they reminisced about some of their more unusual shows over the years. They’d also worked out that they could get away with having the Bentley’s heating and interior lights on, as long as they had the CD player turned off and didn’t start the engine. This allowed them to at least stay warm and be able to properly see what they were eating. There was still no sign of anyone from the vehicle breakdown company, and the car park’s lights provided little illumination now it was dark outside.

“Do you remember,” Crowley said laughing after swallowing a gulp of water, “when we were doing our Second World War show at that museum a few months ago and one of the kids in the audience had somehow mixed up the words ‘Nazi’ and ‘zombie’? And they kept asking Furfur if the Nazis were trying to invade Britain so that they could eat people’s brains, but that it was okay because if it happened again, he knew how to defeat them. Then the kid spent a full minute regaling him with the specifics of decapitation. The look on poor Furfur’s face!”

Aziraphale chuckled as he finished putting the containers and water bottle away. “Yes. Thank goodness Maggie is fluent in Small Child and was able to clear the matter up for us. The little fellow was really enjoying giving everyone all of the gory details.”

“Yeah, that’s kids for you, give them a chance to—” Crowley was cut off by his phone, and he quickly picked it up to check the message. “Nooo,” he groaned. “It says that they are going to be at least another two hours. At this rate, I bet it’s gonna be gone midnight by the time we get home. There go our romantic dinner plans.” Dropping his phone in his lap, Crowley scrubbed both hands down his face.

“Oh, darling, I’m sorry. I was looking forward to our romantic evening as much as you were.” Aziraphale reached out to clasp his boyfriend’s hand, wondering when it would be the right time to reveal his surprise. He’d originally packed it as more of a backup plan, but since it looked as if they were going to be stuck here for a while…

“I just wish the Bentley was working,” Crowley said, rousing him from his musings. “Come on,” he put his hands on the steering wheel, “where would you be right now if you had your choice of destinations? If I could drive you anywhere? The Globe? That fancy little sushi restaurant you like? …Paris? We’d have to travel through the channel tunnel first, of course…”

Aziraphale laughed. “No, thank you. Oh, don’t look so disappointed,” he said, suddenly noticing the expression change on Crowley’s face.

“But, I’d give you a lift…anywhere you wanted to go,” his boyfriend repeated dejectedly.

Reaching over to take Crowley’s hand again, Aziraphale smiled. “What I’m trying to say is, the only place I need to be on the evening of our anniversary is by your side, my love. I meant it earlier when I said all that matters to me tonight is that we are together: just us. So the only destination I’d wish for you to take me tonight is home.” Crowley’s face softened adorably. “But, if you wanted to try celebrating our seven-year anniversary again some other time, perhaps one day we could…I don’t know…go for a picnic in the South Downs, or dine at the Ritz.”

“Ha! Sounds perfect. I’ll definitely take you up on those,” Crowley said with a laugh, leaning in closer to brush his thumb over Aziraphale’s knuckles. “And, yeah, you’re right. I guess tonight could be worse. After all, we’ve got good food, excellent company, and privacy — even if the location leaves a lot to be desired.”

“Exactly,” Aziraphale agreed with a tender smile. “And, not to mention, oodles more amusing stories to keep us entertained for the whole evening and beyond.” He leaned in to give Crowley a lingering kiss to the lips. “Honestly, my dear, as long as you’re with me, I’m perfectly content.”

Crowley let out a pleased sigh, gazing into Aziraphale’s eyes for a moment as if he were searching for the answer to something. Apparently he found it, because a second later he pulled back to clear his throat.

“Look, I suppose, um...I've got something to say,” Crowley began, squeezing their hands where they were still joined. “This isn’t how I imagined doing this, but, well…I wrote you something. For our anniversary. I wanted to wait until we were home to read it to you…but, well who knows when that’s going to be.” He gave a nervous chuckle. “And it’s really important to me that you hear this tonight, on the date of our actual anniversary, coz I’ve been planning this for months and…” Stopping to take a breath, Crowley disentangled his fingers from Aziraphale’s so that he could pick up his phone.

As his boyfriend tapped and scrolled through the device anxiously, Aziraphale puzzled over what could suddenly have him so flustered. And just what was this written ‘something’ that he had spent months planning?

Seeming to find what he’d been searching for, Crowley squirmed around in his seat to better face him. “Right. Okay. So, you know I’ve made a bit of a habit of writing you half-sonnets when I get drunk?” he said with a lop-sided grin.

“How could I forget, dearest?” Aziraphale joked, twisting around in his own seat and doing his best to mirror his boyfriend’s seemingly boneless position. “‘An Ode to Nose’ is still one of my favourites.”

Crowley barked out a laugh. “Well, I thought I’d actually have a go at writing one for you while I was sober this time. A full sonnet. And although this isn’t how I imagined reading it to you…I-I don't want to wait any longer for you to hear it,” he revealed shyly, cheeks pinking.

Aziraphale felt a flutter of excitement in his stomach. “Oh, darling, that sounds wonderful!” he enthused, already bursting at the seams to hear it. “Should I say thank you?”

“Better not. You haven’t heard it yet,” Crowley said with a chuckle. He cleared his throat again and took a deep breath. “Okay. Here it goes…

I’ve long been a student of history,

Yet my own began the first day we met.

Time loses all meaning when you’re with me,

A magician? No, a wizard, I’ll bet.”

The words, and then Crowley’s cheeky smirk at him, caused a delighted laugh to bubble out of Aziraphale. But he quickly composed himself so that his boyfriend could continue.

“When together, you shrink hours to seconds,

When we’re apart, days stretch out, filling years.

I’ve travelled with you since Eden’s gardens,

You carry and cherish my wants…hopes…fears.”

Aziraphale swallowed thickly, ignoring the wetness pricking at his eyes so he could concentrate fully on Crowley’s words. His boyfriend’s earlier levity had transformed into something far more earnest now, his voice becoming a tremulous thing as he spoke the next lines.

“For though our grains of sand will one day pass,

The love I hold for you shall never still,

Because it’s your name carved on my hourglass,

And a ring has no end; it’s eternal.”

The breath in Aziraphale’s lungs stilled as he fully absorbed the implied meaning behind that last line of the stanza. Heart thumping against his ribcage, he suddenly realised where this was heading, and it did not make holding his tears back any easier.

Crowley lowered his phone for the last part, his golden brown eyes holding Aziraphale’s own in an adoring gaze.

“Angel, tonight’s our anniversary,

My heart is yours, so will you marry me?”

Aziraphale drew in a shaky breath, tears now streaming down his cheeks. “Yes!” he said, lunging forwards to kiss Crowley on the lips. “Yes. Yes. Yes,” he repeated in between more overjoyed kisses, kisses that were becoming increasingly difficult with how much both of them were grinning. “Of course I’ll marry you, my darling.”

When they finally separated, Aziraphale was feeling as giddy as Crowley looked.

“Oh, hang on!” Crowley reached into his jacket pocket to pull out his wallet. Fishing inside it for a second, he carefully extracted a gold ring. “Look, I know I’m no expert at poetry,” he said, cheeks blushing further, “but, I’ve been planning this for a while. Well, since we moved back in together really. I knew I wanted to do this on the date of our anniversary, and I also knew that I did not want an audience this time. After the disaster proposal in Edinburgh, I thought it would be safer writing everything down too.” He chuckled and handed Aziraphale the ring. “There’s an inscription.”

With both trembling hands and lower lip, Aziraphale held the loop of gold up to the light so he could read the engraved words: I’ll love you for eternity, angel.

“Oh!” he said with a wet gasp, tears cascading down his face so quickly now they were starting to drip off his chin.

“Happy tears?” Crowley asked with a sniff, wiping away some of his own with the edge of a sleeve.

“Yes. Very very happy tears, my love,” Aziraphale assured him as Crowley picked up the ring from his open palm and slid it onto his finger; it was exactly the right size. “It’s perfect, Crowley. All of it: proposing on this date, the sonnet, the ring…just…all of it.”

Crowley seemed to melt back into the seat with relief. “Thank Someone! I was so nervous after last time. Oh, and don’t you start stressing about finding me a ring straight away either,” he said, pointing a playful finger at him. “I know what you’re like, but I promise there’s no rush. Let’s just enjoy being engaged for now, yeah? We can worry about all the other stuff later.”

Aziraphale bit his lip.

“What?” Crowley asked, quirking a questioning eyebrow.

“Well, it just so happens, that I might actually already have something for you.” Picking up the thermos, complete with its ‘drink me’ heart label still attached, Aziraphale offered it to Crowley. “Why don’t you open it, my dear?”

Crowley took it carefully from him. “This can’t be what I think it is, can it?” he asked, a wary smile creeping over his face.

“Only one way to find out,” Aziraphale replied innocently with a teasing sparkle in his eyes.

Sitting up straight again, Crowley began to slowly unscrew the cup on the tartan thermos. Lifting the lid, a small velvet ring bag was revealed, balanced on the cap underneath. Attached to the bag was another heart post-it saying ‘Marry me?’.

Crowley’s eyes widened upon seeing it and then shot up to meet Aziraphale’s with a gasp. “No way! After everything you said about how you’d be first to propose this time, and it turns out you had a ring here all along, yet still let me get to be the one to ask first?” he said incredulously.

Aziraphale nodded, plucking the bag up so he could present Crowley with its contents. “Yes. Once I realised where the sonnet was going, there’s no way I could have stopped you even if I’d wanted to. It really was the most perfect proposal, and I’d never have wanted to spoil it. Besides, you were so upset about Edinburgh. I’m glad you got the chance to ask again how you wanted to. But…” he said, slipping the white gold ring out of its burgundy pouch and presenting it to Crowley, “it’s my turn now. So…what do you say, my dear?”

Crowley’s eyes were fixed on the ring held between Aziraphale’s fingers. He stared at it, stunned, as Aziraphale held his breath.

“Ngk.”

Although Aziraphale considered himself well-versed in Crowley’s numerous and often rather ambiguous vocal expressions, this one was new to him. “I’m sorry, dear, but I didn’t quite catch that. Was that a word?” he asked tentatively.

“No!” Crowley blurted out.

“No?” Aziraphale questioned, feeling suddenly puzzled. “No, you won’t marry me?”

“Shit! I mean no, it wasn’t a word,” Crowley quickly amended. “But yes, yes of course I want to marry you!” He held out a trembling hand, the other hastily wiping away stray tears, and Aziraphale had never felt more overjoyed than when he slipped the ring onto his partner’s finger, promising himself to Crowley forever.

“Wait, are these stars?” Crowley asked, looking at the two celestial bodies engraved on the outside of the band.

“Yes,” Aziraphale confirmed, his face breaking into a watery smile. "They represent Alpha Centauri. Or, as you so often like to say, me and you.”

Crowley traced his finger over the stars reverently for a moment. “Angel, I love it!” he insisted, shuffling impossibly closer in his seat until their noses were almost touching and they were sharing the same breaths. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“Crowley?”

“Hum?”

“We’re engaged!” Aziraphale said, with a thrilled smile. “You’re officially my fiancé!”

“Fiancés. Fuck, I can’t believe it,” Crowely replied, shaking his head as he beamed back at him. “I love you so much.”

Immediately, he pulled Aziraphale into an enthusiastic kiss, and it wasn’t long until their hands started roaming, all propriety temporarily forgotten as they simply strived to get as close as physically possible in the cramped space.

Feeling like he was overflowing with giddy adoration, Aziraphale lifted up the hem of Crowley’s black polo-neck so he could feel soft warm skin under his fingertips. Crowley’s own hands were bunched tightly in Aziraphale’s jacket as he clung to him, trying to shift them closer until—

‘Ooh, let me feel your heartbeat, grow faster, faster. Oooh, can you feel my love heat? Come on and sit on my hot-seat of love…’

“Christ!” Crowley shouted out in surprise, just as Aziraphale flinched at the sudden loud burst of Queen. He jabbed the off button with his finger. “Sorry. Must have knocked it by accident. Now, where were we…?”

Aziraphale giggled as Crowley leaned in for another kiss. “Darling, we shouldn’t get too carried away. We are still in public, after all,” he reasoned, even as his fingers were already seeking out more of the enticing skin at Crowley’s waist.

“I know,” Crowley whined, wrapping his arms back around him and tenderly kissing the spot under his ear as he breathed deeply. “I just can’t help it. You’re all soft and warm and…you. I wish we were at home right now.”

“Humm? What would we be doing?” Aziraphale asked breathily. He could already feel the beginnings of arousal and knew he should be calming things down but, after the emotions of the evening, his fiancé was just too enticing.

Crowley leaned across the centre console further, plucking open a shirt button so he could begin to trail kisses down Aziraphale’s neck, the occasional nip sending a delightful shiver down his spine. Closing his eyes, Aziraphale savoured the sensations.

“I’d take all of this off for a start,” Crowley murmured between kisses. “Just me and you naked in bed, with the whole night stretched out before us.”

A sudden sharp rap at the window had them jolting apart as if struck by lightning. Crowley’s elbow collided with the CD player in his haste to turn around and see who it was, causing ‘Don't stop me now, I'm having such a good time, I'm having a ball…’ to briefly play out before Aziraphale fumbled with the button to turn it off again.

Red-faced and breathless, they both looked out of the driver-side window to see a brunet middle-aged man in a cap waiting patiently with a pleasant smile.

Crowley hastily rolled down the window.

“Hello, gents. Sorry to break up an intimate moment,” he said apologetically. “I’m Lesley from breakdown services, here to take a look at your van.”

“Oh! Yeah, of course!” Crowley said, quickly opening the door to jump out of the van and greet him properly.

After setting himself somewhat back to rights, Aziraphale opened his passenger-side door so that he could walk around the van and do the same. “I’m terribly sorry we were so, um, distracted,” he said, thankful that the dim lights in the garage would help to hide how much he was currently blushing. “We weren’t expecting you to arrive for a good while yet.”

“No problem. I see all sorts in my job,” Lesley said, waving Aziraphale’s concern away. “There’d been a cancellation so I was able to bump you up the list. And you’re just down the road from my last job. Glad you’re parked inside, though. It’s raining cats and dogs out there.” He chuckled. “So, what seems to be the problem with it?”

“The engine won’t start— Or, it will, but then it cuts out again,” Crowley explained. “And I think something might be wrong with the electrics as well, because the CD player keeps turning on at the same time.”

“Humm, okay,” Lesley said thoughtfully. “Mind if I have a try?”

“No, of course not. The key’s still in the ignition,” Crowley said, stepping back to allow Lesley to sit in the driver’s seat.

As soon as the man turned the key, the engine revved loudly and ‘Oh, won't you take me home tonight? Oh, down beside your red firelight. Oh, and you give it all you got…’ sang out, causing Aziraphale and Crowley to glance furtively at each other for an embarrassed second, before the engine sputtered and everything went mercifully quiet again.

“Let me guess, Queen’s Greatest Hits?” Lesley asked with a smile. “Very popular CD that. You won’t believe how many of them I come across in cars. Right, let’s pop the bonnet, shall we? I’ll see what I can do for you...”

***

“Ugh, thank Someone we’re finally home!” Crowley kicked his sodden shoes off and then dumped his bag on the floor to begin forming its own puddle beside Aziraphale’s. “That umbrella really wasn’t meant for two people.”

“No. The wind didn’t help either,” Aziraphale agreed, awkwardly peeling off his wet beige jacket to hang on a coat hook above the radiator. His curls were darkened due to the rain, some of them plastered to his damp forehead. He looked adorable. Soggy, but adorable.

In the end, Lesley had been unable to fix the Bentley at the car park, so a tow truck had been called to take her to the nearest garage. Crowley and Aziraphale had made it through the majority of their caffeinated thermos concoction by that time and were feeling energetic enough that they had (stupidly, in retrospect) decided to walk home, assuming it would be faster than having to wait for a taxi. The wind and rain working in unison had ensured that they had both come to almost instantly regret that decision.

Crowley struggled out of his own sixties psychedelic black jacket, hanging it up beside Aziraphale’s, when something caught his eye in their living room. Moving forwards in his damp socks, Crowley turned on the light to the room to see the space decorated with clusters of unlit candles and bunches of red and white roses, their delicate perfume hanging in the air.

“Angel,” he said with a gasp, “did you do all this for us?”

Aziraphale came to stand beside him, slipping a cool, wet hand into Crowley’s. “Yes. I’ve decorated the dining table too, although I doubt we’ll be using it for your wonderful pasta tonight, given how late it is.” He chuckled. “It will certainly make for a very romantic breakfast when we dine there tomorrow, though.”

Crowley craned his neck, looking into the open plan kitchen diner to see the table laid with a white tablecloth, two tall candles, the bottle of Châteauneuf-du-Pape, and more red and white roses in the centre. “It looks beautiful, angel,” he said genuinely. “I might not have been able to treat you to pasta tonight, but I can certainly spoil you with crêpes tomorrow morning.”

“That would be delightful, dearest. Hopefully we’ll be able to have a nice lie-in, and then we can call the garage to find out how long they expect to have the Bentley for.”

Crowley nodded. “Do you think she’ll be okay?” he asked, voice small.

Aziraphale turned to him, his face soft. “I’m sure she’ll be fine, my dear. After all, Lesley said himself that it was simply a matter of ordering a couple of parts. The garage will have her ready in no time, just you wait and see.” He ran soothing hands down Crowley’s damp arms.

“Thanks, angel,” he said sincerely, stepping closer. “You always know just what to say.” He trailed a hand of his own suggestively down the front of Aziraphale’s wet shirt, plucking gently at each button with a finger as he went, eager to pick up where they left off in the car park.

Aziraphale huffed out a laugh and took a step backwards. “Crowley…” he began with exasperated fondness.

Crowley rolled his head back dramatically, dropping his arm to his side. “I know, I know. You’ve already told me what you think. You made it very clear on the walk here that we couldn’t just jump straight into bed and start ravishing each other senseless the second we got home.”

“And I haven’t changed my mind,” Aziraphale said firmly, but the corners of his lips were twitching upwards into a smile. “Now, come on. We both need a hot shower first. You’re already starting to shiver and it looks like it’s going to be a two-person job to get you out of that polo neck, let alone your jeans. They somehow seem to have become even more skin-tight in the rain, if such a thing were possible.”

Crowley chose to ignore that comment in favour of lacing his fingers with Aziraphale’s so that he could step closer and put on his most tempting voice. “Can’t we just skip the shower and get straight to the part where you warm me up in bed instead?” He’d been waiting to get Aziraphale to himself all day. Now, at gone ten at night and with enough romantic hormones floating through him to sink a battleship, it was taking all of his restraint not to launch himself at his new fiancé and snog him to within an inch of his life.

Aziraphale gave his fingers a squeeze and raised a playful eyebrow. “Just because we need a shower, doesn’t mean we can’t still be intimate, darling. In fact, I’ve got one or two ideas for how we could make it a very enjoyable shower for us both indeed, if you’d care to join me…?” he said suggestively, flicking off the living room light and taking a step back into the hallway.

Several intriguing possibilities immediately floated to the forefront of Crowley’s brain, and he all but whined with anticipation as he allowed himself to be led down the hall to their bathroom.

Aziraphale, it turned out, was unfortunately entirely correct about the jeans and polo neck. But after a lot of tugging and some colourful cursing, Crowley was finally released from his damp cloth prison and able to admire the view of his fiancé’s arse as he leaned forwards to check the shower's temperature.

“It’s perfect. Shall we hop in, my love?” Aziraphale asked, extending his left hand to draw Crowley closer to him.

Crowley held it gently in his own for a moment, admiring how completely right the ring he’d spent weeks agonising over looked now it was finally on Aziraphale’s finger. He brushed his thumb over it, smiling. “Can’t wait,” he whispered, and they both knew he was talking about more than just the shower.

The glass door shut behind them and they huddled together under the warm spray, revelling in the feel of skin against skin as steam rose around them. “Mmm, this is heaven,” Crowley exhaled, tipping his head back to let the water flow through his hair. Aziraphale gave a deep sigh and did the same, and they stood there in blissful silence for a moment, enjoying the water cascading over their bodies.

Crowley’s arms snaked around Aziraphale’s torso, turning him so that his fiancé’s back was now pressed against his own chest. He rested his chin on Aziraphale’s shoulder, feeling utterly at peace.

“I can’t believe we’re actually engaged and you’re going to be mine forever,” Crowley murmured into Aziraphale’s ear, wrapping more tightly around his belly to give it an affectionate squeeze.

Aziraphale chuckled. “Oh, darling. I was always going to be yours forever. There’s never been anyone else for me but you.”

Crowley wondered, with how close together they were, if Aziraphale could feel the way his heart fluttered in his chest at those words. “Same,” he whispered. Since they first met all those years ago in Eden, part of him had always known he and Aziraphale were meant to be together, even if he was too young to fully understand it at the time. “Being with you has always felt inevitable, and I wouldn’t change that for anything.”

Turning his head slightly to where Crowley was resting his chin on his shoulder, Aziraphale gave him a peck on the cheek. “I quite agree, darling.”

Kissing him back, Crowley then loosened his arms so that Aziraphale could turn around in his grasp and they could kiss again, now on the lips. Mouths still pressed together, he gently guided Aziraphale out of the spray until his back hit the tiled wall. His fiancé gave a small yelp at the cooler sensation, but then wasted no time in pulling Crowley towards him so they were flush together again.

This time when they kissed, their mouths opened. They started slowly with teases of tongues, but it wasn’t long until Crowley felt his arousal building. He ran his hands over his love’s body, glancing over nipples, rubbing circles around hipbones, and squeezing and massaging every inch of his pale and perfect flesh. He could never get enough of him, hands roaming everywhere as he couldn’t decide where to lavish attention next.

Their bodies were damp and slick from the spray, and it made it so enticing to rock against Aziraphale, drawing little gasps and stutters from him as Crowley slid their sensitive skin together, steadily encouraging them both to full hardness.

“Oh, that feels wonderful darling,” Aziraphale panted, reaching down between them to align their cocks properly before both of his hands grabbed Crowley’s arse, urging him to rut into the slippery pocket of heat they had created.

Crowley moaned as he sucked a mark onto Aziraphale’s shoulder, the sensitive tip of his cock brushing against the soft wet swell of Aziraphale’s belly with each thrust. It was maddeningly good, and the telltale viscous feel to each slide now told him he was already leaking arousal.

“Fuck, I could come just like this,” Crowley said, drawing in a sharp breath as the perfect sting of nails in his arsecheeks sent another jolt of pleasure straight to his prick.

Panting, Aziraphale loosened his grip on him slightly. “We could,” he said, soothing Crowley’s needy whine with a kiss to the cheek, “but I do have another suggestion, if you’d like to hear it? It involves me turning around and you grabbing the shower oil from the shelf.”

Crowley paused, intrigued. They’d used the shower oil plenty of times before, usually to aid what they were doing right now, or to help when thrusting into their joined hands. He wondered what Aziraphale had in mind for them tonight.

“Okay.” Crowley nodded, reluctantly taking a small step backwards, his flushed cock protesting at the sudden lack of contact. He ignored it and turned around to grab the shower oil as requested.

Aziraphale was now facing the tiled wall, one hand spread out on it and the other combing his wet curls back from his forehead. His usually pale skin was starting to flush pink in places due to the heat, and as Crowley gazed at him, it took all of his control not to sink his teeth in and suck another love bite onto its mouthwatering peach-flesh surface.

“Here you go,” Crowley murmured, his right hand covering Aziraphale’s on the tiles, slotting their fingers together, as he placed the shower oil into his left. “Are you going to tell me your wicked plan now?”

Aziraphale chuckled, but it turned to a gasp when Crowley’s free hand brushed idly against one of his nipples. “W-well,” he started, “I thought it might be f-fun,” — another pause as Crowley caught his earlobe playfully between his teeth to tug at it — “if you were behind me.”

“Mmm?” Crowley prompted, bringing himself flush with Aziraphale’s back, his still-hard cock coming to rest where his arsecheeks met.

“And— Ah, yes. That’s the idea,” Aziraphale encouraged, pushing back slightly against Crowley so that the length of his prick slid enticingly up between the cheeks of his arse. “We’re not going to be able to have full sex in here, but I thought it might still be fun to indulge in a little intergluteal intercourse.”

Crowley let out a whine, his traitorous cock throbbing at the prospect, even as his brain was urging him to tease Aziraphale on his overly formal phrasing. Deciding discretion was the better part of valour and all that, he wisely decided to bypass the teasing in favour of getting to the suggested activity more quickly.

“Haven’t done that in a while,” he said, giving an experimental roll with his hips that had them both drawing in shaky breaths. The friction at this moment was still too much for it to be fully enjoyable, but the oil would soon help with that. “Do you want me to use my hand on you at the same time?”

“Yes. Please,” Aziraphale replied breathlessly as Crowley slid himself slowly between his cheeks once more, teasing them both.

“Go on then,” Crowley encouraged, removing his hand from Aziraphale’s on the wall so that his fiancé could squirt a generous amount of oil into it and slick himself fully. “Get yourself nice and wet for me first.”

Aziraphale’s legs trembled at the words and he let out a low moan as he steadily began to work himself. The droplets of water clinging to him from the shower’s warm spray fell in rivulets down his flushed skin with each movement. Crowley couldn’t take his eyes off the sight, mindlessly rubbing himself against Aziraphale at the same speed until the bottle was pressed back into his own hand.

“Mmm, your turn,” Aziraphale said, turning his head to catch Crowley’s lips in a quick kiss before they parted.

Crowley pulled back, oil in hand, instantly lamenting the warmth of Aziraphale’s body that had been pressing against him so perfectly. As his fiancé’s panting breaths punctuated the background hiss of the shower, he dribbled the oil generously over the length of his impatient prick, quickly thrusting the bottle back onto the shelf so he could begin the much more appealing task of slathering it over himself.

Keeping his hand in a loose fist, Crowley spread the oil liberally from base to tip. He bit his lip, surprised at how heightened even the lightest touches were now that the unctuous liquid was coating his sensitive skin. “Fuck, a-are you ready?” he asked, stepping closer to Aziraphale and letting the head of his prick trail teasingly along the line of his fiancé’s arse.

One of Aziraphale’s hands immediately came out to clasp his hip, encouraging Crowley to bury his cock fully up between his gorgeous round cheeks again. “Yes. I can’t wait to feel you, darling,” he said, putting his forearm on the tiled wall to brace himself.

Crowley fully slid between Aziraphale’s arse, knees almost buckling at how good it felt. He was so slick and warm, and if Crowley angled himself just so, he could feel the head of his prick brushing tantalisingly over Aziraphale’s rim.

They both moaned, Aziraphale pushing back into Crowley with every thrust, needily spurring him onwards. One of Crowley’s hands grasped at his fiancé’s left hip to help further steady them, while his other reached around to take Aziraphale’s cock. He grasped it at the base, slowly working his way up the thick shaft to circle his thumb at the head, just like he knew Aziraphale loved, before dragging the arousal he found there back down his length again.

“Oh. Oh, yes. Just like that, please,” Aziraphale pleaded, as Crowley got into rhythm with his own pace.

He placed a kiss in the middle of Aziraphale’s damp curls, before mouthing at the spot behind his ear that always brought on a pleasing little shudder. “I wanna make you feel really good, angel,” he whispered, steadily increasing his rate of stroking. “I love you so much. Fuck, you feel amazing in my hand, hnngh, a-and round my cock. You’re s-so perfect for me.”

A whine escaped Aziraphale’s lips, his prick stiffening further beneath Crowley’s fingers. “I love the feel of you too, darling. Oh, you’re so good at that.” His hand slipped around to Crowley’s arse to grasp it fully, nails sinking in deliciously, so that each pricking point of contact was the perfect counterpoint to the pleasure flowing through Crowley.

He was starting to lose himself to the sensations surrounding him: the gentle spray warming his back, the taste of Aziraphale under his lips, the glorious slick slide of his own cock enveloped in firm flesh as it rocked against that most intimate part of his love. It was all causing Crowley’s orgasm to quickly build within him, eager for release. “Talk to me, please, angel. I’m so close,” he begged. His breaths fell in hot puffs over Aziraphale’s soft skin, causing him to throb in Crowley’s wet slickened fist.

“I’m close too,” Aziraphale admitted. “It’s such a tease having you rub against me…knowing I can’t take you inside. Perhaps later tonight, or tomorrow morning?”

Crowley groaned in eager assent, his pace increasing as he lost himself to feeling and fantasy. “I’d open you up with my mouth first. Then work my fingers into you, one at a time, until you were getting close, until all you needed was my cock to make you come.”

“Oh, yes. You fill me so beautifully, darling. How would you have me?”

“I’d have you on top,” Crowley replied instantly, his balls tightening and prick stiffening as he pictured it all so clearly. “Then I could keep touching you, just like now. I’d get to see you as you were falling apart, feel you clenching around me as you came, helping to push me over the edge, until I…until…fuck!”

Crowley’s release burst out of him, cock pulsing as his warm spend coated the space between Aziraphale’s arsecheeks, forming a slick valley that prolonged his pleasure, drawing every drop out of him until he was nothing more than a quivering, panting mess plastered against his fiancé’s back.

Returning to himself with a start, Crowley realised that the cock in his now slackened grip was still very hard. “Shit…you didn’t come?” he asked sheepishly.

“I was close,” Aziraphale returned breathily, “but it, uh, appears you go too fast for me, Crowley.” He let out a small giggle as Crowley groaned in mortification.

“Well, no future husband of mine is going to be left unsatisfied,” Crowley assured him, with all the determination he could muster in his dazed post-orgasmic state. Then an idea came to him, and he whispered in Aziraphale’s ear. “Would you like some extra lubrication, angel?”

With his hand still around him, Crowley could feel the moment Aziraphale’s cock pulsed with interest. “Oh, yes,” he said with an eager groan.

Crowley let his softening cock slip out of where it was still sheathed, so that he could drag his fingers through the mess he had created. He paused just long enough to brush and tease lightly at Aziraphale’s hole, producing a needy whine from his fiancé, who tried to sink back onto him. Then, bringing his spend-slickened fingers around to Aziraphale’s cock, Crowley created a tight fist for him to fuck himself into.

Aziraphale’s moan turned into a whine as he pushed himself into it again and again, coating the length of his flushed cock in Crowley’s come. “Oh, darling, that feels... I-I’m so close.”

“That’s it, take all the pleasure you need from me. I wanna see you fall apart,” Crowley encouraged, positioning his hips behind Aziraphale’s arse, helping to push him into his own wet fist.

Trapped between those two points of exquisite contact, Aziraphale’s head fell back on Crowley’s shoulder, pleasure etched on his face. He seemed to surrender entirely to Crowley’s movements, allowing himself to be guided towards his inevitable release.

Crowley sped up even more, working his prick while kissing and sucking down the length of Aziraphale’s neck until his love cried out in ecstasy, cock pulsing hard in Crowley’s grip to paint the tiles in front of them with thick white spurts of his come.

When Crowley’s hand finally stilled, Aziraphale all but collapsed back against him. Crowley wrapped his sticky hands around his torso and guided him into a kiss. “Good?” he asked, unable to keep the pleased smirk from his face.

“Very good, my dear,” Aziraphale assured him with a blissed-out smile as Crowley nuzzled into him. “And, luckily, we are in the perfect location for a speedy clean-up.” He lifted his head to kiss Crowley on the forehead. “Although we’d better get a wiggle on before the hot water runs out. And then I have a rather sinful idea for what we could do once in bed…”

***

Aziraphale’s lascivious moan echoed through their bedroom and Crowley momentarily paused in sating his own hunger to enjoy the sight before him. His fiancé was very skilled with his tongue, and it was certainly being put to good use at the moment, licking every last fleck of cocoa-dusted cream, along with coffee and Marsala soaked sponge off his spoon.

“That tiramisu hitting the spot, is it?” he asked fondly, before putting his own laden spoon into his mouth. And yeah, okay, maybe Aziraphale had a point, because he’d made some very good tiramisu. Crowley wondered if it would taste even better being kissed from his love’s lips, so leaned over to test out his theory.

“Careful!” Aziraphale scolded with a giggle. “You’ll upset the bowl and then we’ll be trying to clean tiramisu out of the bedding for the rest of the evening.” But he still paused in devouring it long enough to move said bowl aside and give Crowley a long, slow kiss on the lips.

Humming happily as they pulled apart, Crowley settled into Aziraphale’s side, his own spoon now obsolete as he decided to put on, what Aziraphale liked to call, his baby bird routine. This consisted of opening his mouth for every third or fourth spoonful of Aziraphale’s dessert, coaxing his fiancé into depositing it in his mouth instead. It worked surprisingly well, and meant he could use his limbs for much more important things, like wrapping himself around the love of his life so he could caress and squeeze every part of him he so adored.

Aziraphale, the patient saint that he was, simply acquiesced with a resigned sigh, falling easily into this oft-repeated pattern of behaviour. “This really is the perfect ending to our anniversary evening, darling,” he said after a while, scraping up another spoonful of mascarpone cream to share with Crowley.

Swallowing it contentedly, Crowley hummed in agreement. “Yeah, it definitely wasn’t the evening I had planned, but I guess it all went pretty well in the end. And the most important part of the whole night turned out perfectly.”

“Yes. It really is a wonderful dessert.”

“Oi!” Crowley yelped, giving his sniggering fiancé a friendly poke in the ribs that almost had him upending his current spoonful. But he couldn’t tamp down his own runaway smile and they were soon giggling like a couple of school children.

“I’m sorry, dearest. You know I’m only teasing. It honestly was the most beautiful proposal. I can’t wait to tell Furfur and the girls all about it tomorrow. I can just imagine Tracy and Shadwell’s reactions as well.” He gave an excited little wiggle.

“Yeah,” Crowley agreed. “We might need to bring earplugs when you tell Tracy.” He smiled as he tried to predict all of their loved one’s reactions upon hearing the news. The proposing part had taken up so much of his thoughts over the last few weeks that he hadn’t really considered much beyond that. Still, there was no rush. He and Aziraphale had plenty of time to organise all of the details for how they wanted to get married.

His smile faded for a moment, wondering how his own mother and sister would react to the news. Lilith would probably be pleased for him at least, but the years hadn’t really softened his mother’s views on his sexuality, or his relationship with Aziraphale. She was civil, especially whenever Aziraphale was present, but her smile was always a little too tight, and her words overly reserved, as if their relationship were something to be endured rather than celebrated.

There was a soft clink as Aziraphale’s spoon was placed back in the bowl and his hand came to rest, warm and comforting, upon Crowley’s. “Are you wondering about how your mother will take the news?” he guessed, brushing his thumb over Crowley’s wedding band.

The sensation was soothing, helping to bring Crowley back to the moment and remind him of what was really important. The ache of his mother’s disapproval would always be there to some degree, but time had helped dull it. And both he and Aziraphale had so many other people in their lives now who genuinely cared for them and would be overjoyed at hearing the news of their engagement. That's what he needed to focus on.

He relaxed into his fiancé’s side again. “Yeah, I was,” he admitted. “It’s a shame she’ll never be truly happy for us, but there’s nothing we can do to change that. And you’re right, it’s going to be great telling all of our friends about it tomorrow. We’ll have to find out what time Nina finishes at Give Me Coffee Or Give Me Death. Then she can find out at the same time as Maggie and Furfur. Perhaps we could all go out for a drink to celebrate or something?”

Aziraphale chuckled. “That sounds like a wonderful idea, darling. I’ll see if Tracy and Shadwell are free to come as well.”

“Great!” Crowley entwined their fingers, nuzzling into Aziraphale’s cheek. “What about your parents?” he asked, the idea suddenly popping into his head. “D’you think they’re gonna be okay with our engagement?”

Compared to Crowley’s own family, Aziraphale’s had adapted surprisingly well over the years. They had even come around to his magic act, especially when they found out the sorts of clients he was performing for and the amount of money he was being paid for doing so. Aziraphale’s mother now delighted in telling everyone she met about her son, the successful stage magician, who worked for the prestigious company Ineffable Enterprises.

“Oh, I expect my mother will be over the moon,” Aziraphale said with a fond roll of his eyes. “You know how she gets when she has something to crow about to her friends. And she’s never made a secret of wanting to see me get married one day, even if the ‘who’ part has changed. In fact, I think our main issue will be stopping her from taking over all of the planning.”

“Humm, yeah, you might be right there,” Crowley agreed. He wondered what sort of wedding Aziraphale’s mother would expect for them. His fiancé’s parents were still very keen for him to attend as many church services as possible, although nowadays Aziraphale usually limited these to special occasions such as Easter or Christmas. He thought it was strange that Aziraphale’s parents had never chosen to ask him about his faith or beliefs since he’d come out. His fiancé had not wanted to bring it up either though, preferring to let sleeping dogs lie, which he understood and respected, especially after what he’d gone through with his own family. “Well, whatever our parents throw at us, we’ll get through it together,” Crowley vowed, sitting up slightly so that he could bring their joined hands to his lips and bestow a kiss on Aziraphale’s knuckles. “We’re a group of the two of us.”

“For better, for worse,” Aziraphale said with a smile.

“For richer, for poorer,” Crowley added with a wink and a smirk.

“In sickness and in health.”

“Obviously.” Crowley leaned in slowly. “To love and to cherish,” he said softly as he gazed into his fiancé’s sparkling eyes.”

“Until death do us part,” Aziraphale whispered, sealing the promise with a kiss.