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Crowley had been on Earth for several thousand years, and had subsequently been party to many, many traditional human holidays. Typically, he’d gotten in on the festivities if he felt inclined - especially if it was something raucous and loud - but the last few years, being free of the shackles of Hell, had tamed him somewhat. He still enjoyed mischief, but he very much enjoyed his friendship with Aziraphale and the peaceful, precious little life the two of them were carving out here on earth. Secretly, in quiet places of his heart, he longed for that life to be more like humans led, speaking from a romantic sense, but he was grateful for whatever his former enemy would allow him to have.
He and Aziraphale had decided that if they were to live like humans, they might as well embrace it, and when Aziraphale had suggested giving each other gifts every day leading up to the holiday, Crowley had been all for that. He’d been surprised to find that he enjoyed Christmas, but more than that, he loved making the angel happy. Aziraphale’s smile was the most beautiful earthly delight. He knew perfectly well how to make Aziraphale happy: the angel liked trinkets, he liked good wine, and he liked books. So Crowley had procured things he thought Aziraphale would like; old books he bargained and bartered for, silver snuffboxes, and several bottles of expensive wine. The wines were, of course, Crowley’s favorite, because they could share them. The angel seemed to like that, too.
Aziraphale’s pleasure pleased Crowley, but the gifts he had received from Aziraphale over the last twenty-three days were puzzling to him. Among other things, Aziraphale had gifted Crowley with a wrought iron towel bar shaped like a snake (“It just made me think of you, isn’t it lovely? I think I might have her make some curtain rods,”), a straw hat (“Now, darling, you’re always complaining about the sun giving you freckles…”), a very nice coffee maker (“Now you can make all the espressos you like!”), and even a set of quality gardening tools (“Your old ones are a bit rusty, dear…”).
It was baffling to Crowley why Aziraphale would give him these things. They were useful, he supposed, but for the life of him, Crowley couldn’t understand what Aziraphale was doing. It didn’t really matter, he supposed. Aziraphale was probably just unused to giving gifts, and was practicing on Crowley. Whatever. He was fine with it, and the towel bar was nice. So were the tools, and he liked coffee, although the bath mats were mystifying. He never dripped anywhere, unless he meant to, and why would he do that?
Today was Christmas Eve, and the two of them were going to spend the evening - and the next day - together. In the back of his car, Crowley had a case of Chateauneuf du Pape that he just knew Aziraphale was going to love. He, personally, was going to love sharing it, and was very much looking forward to getting inebriated with his best friend - the angel he loved.
It seemed like the entirety of Soho had been decorated for the holidays, and Crowley found it festive. Carolers were on corners, singing, people greeted each other with smiles, and the whole atmosphere was pleasant. It didn’t even occur to Crowley to make anyone trip and drop their parcels.
Aziraphale had also decorated, hanging lush evergreen boughs, putting candles in the windows (battery operated, of course), and erecting a huge, lushly decorated tree in the center of the shop. The shop always had the smell of old books, but right now it also smelled like Christmas, and Crowley loved it.
“Hiya, angel,” he said, letting himself into the shop, carrying the case of wine under one arm. It was wrapped in red and green paper with a big gold bow on top, and he loved the way Aziraphale’s face lit up when he saw it.
“Hello, dear,” Aziraphale said. “I’m so glad you’re here. I’m ready to exchange gifts.”
Crowley gave him a puzzled look as he sat the box down by the tree. “Already? I just walked in the door.”
“Yes, I’m very excited about this gift.”
Aziraphale was smiling and bouncing a little on the balls of his feet, and it was entirely too cute for Crowley to deny. Not that he’d ever deny him anything. “Well, alright,” Crowley agreed. “Toss you for who goes first?”
“No need. I’m going first,” Aziraphale answered, wiggling happily, pulling a box from under the tree and handing it to Crowley, who’d sat down in his favorite chair. “Here you are, dear.”
Crowley unwrapped the gift, tearing the paper and tossing it, then pulling the top off the box and tossing it to the side. “It’s a clock,” Crowley said, his face blank, trying to figure out what the hell he was going to do with a clock.
“It is,” Aziraphale agreed, wringing his hands, still smiling but now appearing nervous. “You see, I’ve been thinking a lot about the concept of time. You and I… we’ve known each other quite a long time, and we’ve spent most of that time as hereditary enemies. We were pitted against each other, but for the last few years, we’ve been able to be more ourselves. We’re able to celebrate our friendship, and we have the eternity of time yawning before us. And that’s… that’s why a clock.”
Still confused, Crowley looked up at Aziraphale. “You gave me a clock to remind me we’re on earth for the rest of eternity?”
He swallowed anxiously. “Yes, and in the hopes that you might be willing to spend that eternity with me.”
“Ngk,” said Crowley.
Aziraphale was biting his lip, twisting his ring. “Plus I thought it might look so nice on the mantel of the cottage.”
Crowley blinked at him. “The what of the what now?”
“The mantel over the fireplace of the cottage I bought a few weeks ago. I intended for us to share it.”
“You want - you want us to share a cottage? That you bought?”
“That was my hope, yes. And that, ahem, and that you’ll consent to marry me.”
The next thing Crowley knew, there was a strong smell of something under his nose and he pushed it away. His voice was laced with mild annoyance when he chastised Aziraphale. “Why did you wake me up? I was having a nice dream.”
“You weren’t sleeping, dear, you had fainted,” Aziraphale said, putting the smelling salts away.
“Demons don’t faint.”
“No, but I hear it’s happened to a few bridegrooms, so that’s probably what - oh dear, there he goes again.”
The horrible smell was back, and Crowley once again pushed it away, sitting up. He was in Aziraphale’s shop, it was decorated for the holiday, and Aziraphale was sitting by his side, looking amused and afraid.
“I don’t find this encouraging,” Aziraphale chided.
Things were hitting Crowley left and right, pennies dropping everywhere, and things were starting to make a fantastical kind of sense. “You asked me to marry you.”
“I did, yes. I realize marriage is a human concept, so I suppose I’m being silly by asking, but -”
“You bought a cottage.”
“In the South Downs, yes. It’s right on the coast, and it has a large, lovely garden with a greenhouse in the rear.”
More pennies plunking into place. “That’s why you bought me all those things. They were…”
“Housewarming gifts, I guess you’d say,” Aziraphale said. “I was gifting things to you that I thought might make the cottage more homey for you.”
A smile took root on the right side of Crowley’s face and spread. “You actually want me to marry you,” he said. Not a question.
“I do, yes,” Aziraphale answered, and Crowley was afraid Aziraphale was going to pull his fingers clean out of joint. “I thought perhaps, if you wanted, we could commit to spending eternity together, and I could call you my husband. You see, I lov-”
He didn’t get any further, because Crowley had decided he needed to kiss his angel - his fiancè - right that moment.