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It ended, as it started, with a garden.
Crowley carefully and methodically chose which vegetables to pull out of the earth, soil falling as he brushed them off with his gloved hands. He placed them in his basket alongside some potatoes, carrots, and a few different types of peppers.
He sighed, pushing himself until he was standing. He was in their back garden, one that was bustling with all kinds of plants. They had fruit, vegetables, and even some flowers that Aziraphale would give out to whoever he felt as though deserved it.
(If it was Crowley who often got the gorgeous bouquets, well, he’d never tell.)
Speaking of his favorite angel, the window nearest to him opened with a small creak, Aziraphale poking his head out. His eyes were as bright and bubbly as ever, white hair curling around his ears. Crowley felt his own heart swell when he saw him, framed by their home, a place they had come to adore.
“Are you almost done, dear? I’ve got the rest of the ingredients ready, I just need those pesky vegetables…” his voice trailed off as he glanced down at the other stuff that was going to go in their dinner—various spices and herbs that Crowley wouldn’t even dare to try to name, along with some meat.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m done. The carrots were really in there I guess. Give me a second angel, I’ll be right up.”
Aziraphale nodded, closing the window as he went back to moving around their kitchen. Crowley grabbed his basket, walking up to their small porch, taking off his gloves. They were a deep red, small apples decorating it in a pattern. There was a matching set on the outside table, but instead of being red, they were a soft, golden color. He smiled. What a nice gift those had been.
Opening the back door, he stepped in, careful not to drag any dirt into the house. Slipping out of his gardening boots, he placed them next to the door. The record player seemed to be on, music quietly drifting through the air. If he listened closely, he could hear Aziraphale humming along.
Crowley set the basket down on the counter, turning to the sink and washing his hands. Aziraphale was busy leaning over the pot, making sure the soup broth was coming together nicely. Taking out the vegetables, Crowley began to wash them. Soil and roots fell away as he scrubbed, making sure to leave nothing behind. He wanted to ensure that he did a good job, and that this dinner was as perfect as every one that came before it.
Truthfully, not all had been amazing. Despite the others love of food, the two of them had not been amazing cooks in the beginning. He’d put out more fires than he could count, and although he didn’t eat often, he did try a few of the dishes. He’d offer advice to Aziraphale, who would take it eagerly, and then they’d try again. His true passion, however, was his garden. As much as Crowley loved his house plants, he loved his garden plants even more. The carefully watering, the waiting for them to grow. Being able to show his angel fresh ingredients. It was wonderful.
Once he was done washing all that he had picked, he moved on to cutting them up. He grabbed the cutting board from the cabinet and knife and began to slice through each of the vegetables. It was almost soothing, the soft sound of the food breaking in half. He chopped through the ingredients quietly, glancing over at Aziraphale every once in a while. He had acquired one of his cooking books from his bookshop, and had been slowly making his way through every single recipe. Now he stood over it, tracing the directions with his finger. The sight filled him with fondness, something he found himself feeling a lot lately.
Could you blame him? He lived with the love of his life—the center of his universe, the one who made him feel like someone who deserved happiness. How could he not stare? Adore? If he could hang the stars again, he’d do it just for Aziraphale. He was sure of it.
“Are you alright?”
Crowley perked up, blinking. Speaking of staring, it seems he had gotten a little distracted. The potato he’d been cutting had practically become a speck. He felt his cheeks get a little warmer, and he quickly turned back to the task at hand.
“Yeah. Fine. Just thinkin, is all.” he responded, cupping his hands and putting the potato bits in the bowl along with the other ingredients. Sliding another over, he got back to work, only slightly more embarrassed.
“What about?” Aziraphale asked, moving away from the stove. His voice was light and curious as he got closer, smiling appreciatively at the amount of food Crowley had managed to procure.
“Just….us. Our home. How glad I am that all the chaos of the past couple of years are over. How glad I am I get to spend the rest of eternity with you.”
Aziraphale’s eyes crinkled as he grinned, pulling Crowley away from the counter in order to hold his hands.
“Someone’s feeling awfully sappy, aren’t you?”
“Oh, shut up,” Crowley said, rolling his eyes playfully. “I can’t be happy with what I have?”
“No, no. I feel the same way. I would’ve never imagined being able to have this life with you. Especially after….” A pause. Guilt traveled over Aziraphale’s face, eyes darting away. Crowley put his hand on the others cheek.
“We’re pass that, angel. We’ve all made mistakes. My mistake was just not telling you how much I love you sooner.”
Aziraphale’s eyes softened, nodding. He leaned in, hugging Crowley tight. Although they had been through a lot—maybe more than any normal couple—they still made sure to be there for each other. Despite what may have happened, they both know they care for each other deeply. That’s all that really mattered.
“…Love you, angel.”
“I love you too, you big sap,” Aziraphale responded, standing on his tippy-toes to give Crowley a small kiss. Stepping back, he went back over to the counter and grabbed all the chopped veggies. Slowly, he began placing them in the pot. Crowley watched, leaning against the cabinets.
Over the next hour or so, they stood around the kitchen, laughing and talking as Aziraphale occasionally stirred the soup. The lovely, warm aroma filled the house nicely, faint music still playing in the background. Before they knew it, the soup was done, and it was time for dinner.
Crowley poured himself a small bowl. Even if he didn’t particularly eat much compared to his companion, he would indulge today. It felt right, considering they’d both put so much work into it. Besides, it tasted better when it was homemade anyways.
They sat down at their small dining table, flowers adoring a vase that was placed off to the side. Steam curled up as it rose off of the soup.
“Ready?” Aziraphale asked, spoon held in one hand. His face was eager and excited, and Crowley couldn’t help but match his energy. Taking a sip, he hummed with approval. Across the table, Aziraphale sighed with relief. It was amazing.
“Mm, well done. You make a good cook after all.”
“Did you ever doubt me?”
“Maybe once or twice. You have to admit, the lobster risotto was a bit of a disaster.”
“I didn’t mean to catch it on fire! I don’t even know how that happened—“
Once the dinner was done, and the dishes had been washed, they stood together in the living room; the record player still spun, but this time, the music was more tender. It was soft, and full of love. Crowley carefully spun Aziraphale around, dimmed lights shining in his eyes. He sighed contently. All was right. All was okay.
Unbeknownst to them, miles and miles away, nightingales sang softly into the cool night air.