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It was nothing, really. A throw away remark, not intended to be acted upon.
"They're so pretty," he'd said. "I wish there was a reason to set them off every year."
It had taken him a while, a bit of plotting here, some mischief there, but finally, finally, Crowley had been successful.
Passing it off as corrupting politicians had been easy enough to get Hell off his back. A simple, "this should start an event set to scare animals and small humans on a yearly basis, and sow discord between neighbours," and he'd even earned himself a commendation.
Yeah, sure, so a couple of people had been hung for treason. All par for the course, especially with religious conflicts. Worse still when both sides believed in the same God, just chose different ways to worship.
That was one thing Crowley would never understand about humans. Their need to reject each other's differences, instead of embracing them. They were definitely on the same side in the cosmic conflict.
Belief in God? Check.
Prayers? Check.
Celebrate kindness and giving? ...Mostly check.
Respect the person who does all of the above, but just slightly differently to you? No, got to kill them.
So he didn't really feel guilty for getting a man keen to blow something up executed. He'd barely even had to try tempting the man and he'd been as eager as anything to get the job done. Some people were just bloodthirsty.
The first year after Crowley's anonymous letter, and the failed attempt to blow up parliament, the people had lit bonfires to celebrate.
The same had happened the second year, though a whisper here and a suggestion there had resulted in a couple of fireworks displays.
It really took off after that, and the next time he'd seen Aziraphale, some fifty years later, he'd been excitedly preparing for Bonfire Night.
"Isn't it marvellous? They put a show on every year now! The fireworks are getting better every year, too!"
And Crowley had kept the secret of what he'd done close to his chest. It was too revealing. One remark about fireworks being pretty, and he'd turned all of his mischief into making them occur as regularly as he could without being obvious.
So he kept the secret. For over 400 years, no one knew he'd been the one to start this.
Crowley'd never have imagined it would still be going strong more than 400 years later. Not in a million years.
Here they were though, Crowley and Aziraphale, celebrating the failed Second Coming by visiting London's biggest fireworks show.
"Ah," Aziraphale sighed, shoulders shimmying with happiness. "Humans. I love humans. They come up with such marvellous ideas, don't they?"
"Mm," Crowley grunted. It could be taken as agreement, or just an acknowledgement. He didn't much care which Aziraphale chose at this point. It was difficult. Talking to him. So much had been left unsaid since his return, since he'd actually gone and fixed Heaven, even if only temporarily.
"Don't be a bore, dear," Aziraphale said, glancing at him. Firelight from the nearest bonfire flickered over his face. They were both somewhat bundled up against the cold, surrounded by humans fully decked in winter gear despite the unusually mild weather. Bonfire Night had been having unusually mild weather for long enough now that it ought not to be considered unusual.
"M'not a bore," Crowley said. "S'just. Well. They're just humans. They come up with plenty of stuff. Mostly the bad stuff. The good stuff? That's what you're for."
"Yes, well. I didn't start Bonfire Night, I assure you." Aziraphale was preening, though, so Crowley knew he knew what was meant.
"No, you didn't," Crowley agreed. For the first time since all of this had started, he felt the temptation to tell him, to let him know not just that he'd started this, but why. They'd both been doing an excellent job of ignoring their parting kiss, and Crowley had the feeling that he wasn't the only one who regretted that.
Watching the first volley of fireworks, surrounded by the "oohs and ahhs" of the appreciative crowd, the smell of bonfire smoke heavy in the air, Crowley almost felt proud of this thing he'd done. This good thing he'd created for people, out of a bad situation. He was responsible for the way they celebrated, the delight on the children's faces as an effigy of Guy Fawkes was thrown on the bonfire; the joy surrounding him was a result of his actions all those years ago.
He wanted the credit for this. Wanted Aziraphale to know, and understand.
Why not? He thought. Why not just tell him? Maybe then he'll bloody talk about it.
"I did it," Crowley said, feeling brave and reckless. What was the point of keeping secrets for 400 years, anyway? Wouldn't it be better, in the end, to have it all out in the open? And if... If Aziraphale didn't feel the same, at least he'd know. At least he'd have the chance to move on from this, whatever it was.
"Hmm?" Aziraphale was paying attention to the fireworks, and not looking at him.
Crowley cleared his throat. Reached out, grasped Aziraphale's hand.
When the angel turned to look at him, startled, he began again.
"I did it. This. The fireworks."
"What do you mean?" Aziraphale asked. "You weren't involved in this display, were you? It's very nice."
"No, you- I started this," Crowley said, gritting his teeth. "With Guy Fawkes. Got him to commit treason and dobbed him in. Suggested- well, tempted really, I guess you could say - that people should celebrate properly with fireworks. I, uh, I made sure they did it every year. Made sure it was illegal not to celebrate an' everything."
Aziraphale was looking at him strangely, holding his breath. He tightened his grip on Crowley's hand, twining their fingers properly.
"Whatever for?"
"You said they're pretty," Crowley said, simply. "You wanted to see more fireworks. Fawkes was headed that way, anyway, so I just. Pushed."
"Crowley. You did this for me?" Aziraphale was glowing in the light of the bonfire, in the flashes of fireworks above them. Greens, reds and whites flashed brightly across his face.
Crowley nodded, once, a tight thing.
"I, uh-"
Now that he'd said it, he wasn't sure how to go on. What to say or do next, how to proceed to the step he so desperately wanted.
"Oh, but that means-" Aziraphale stopped himself. He dropped Crowley's hand and squared his shoulders. He visibly made a decision of his own, nodding his head once, sharply. "That was a very brave thing to tell me, Crowley. And for telling me- and kissing me, even though you knew I needed to- Well. Perhaps, now it is time for me to be brave."
"Angel, you don't nee-"
"But I do. Crowley, I love you," Aziraphale said, facing him fully. "I have for decades. Centuries! Since Job at least."
Crowley stared, wide eyed.
"Not running away with you was one of the hardest things I have ever done," Aziraphale continued. "I needed to go. I needed to fix what I could. But that doesn't mean I didn't wish I was right by your side, just living our own life. And I hope - I hope I'm not too late to fix us."
"Angel," Crowley choked out. He reached for Aziraphale's hand again, couldn't hold back from cupping his face. "Angel, there's nothing to fix. You'd never be too late for me. I'd wait for you. For us. I'd wait millennia if I had to. Been waiting since Eden."
Aziraphale didn't let him say anything else, interrupting him with a kiss. Crowley gasped into it, this freely given thing. It felt like coming home.
Crowley wrapped himself up in Aziraphale, deepened the kiss, and let everything shine through. The pain of their separation, the joy at their reunion, the thousands of years of waiting.
"You know how I feel, don't you?" Crowley asked, when they finally broke apart. Above them, the final volley of the fireworks display had started.
"I do, yes. I think I've always known, it just wasn't-"
"Wasn't the right time, I know. But it is now, yeah?"
"Yes. It is now," Aziraphale agreed, easily, and kissed him again. Soft. Slow. "Now we can just be us and not worry about the rest of them."
Crowley reflexively tightened his grip on Aziraphale's waist, his relief palpable. "I'm glad angel."
They stood like that, embracing, until the fireworks display was finished. Around them, people milled about, making their way out of the park, passing vendors on the way. Children raced about with light up toys and sparklers.
When they pulled apart, half of the crowd was already well on the way out of the park.
"Crowley?" Aziraphale's breath puffed out, visible in the cold November air. "Thank you for my fireworks."