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It was a lazy sunny Sunday afternoon and a certain demon was walking his tight black jeans though Soho gravitating towards a certain bookshop.
The door of said bookshop opened for him despite the CLOSED sign and Crowley felt immediately relieved at the familiar smell of the place he didn't dare call home. He breathed in the sweetest smell of dust, old books, the angelic power and something that he wasn't able to place.
The unidentified smell came with an even more annoying voice.
"The good old days, am I right?" the strange voice said and Aziraphale laughed.
The angel had a visitor. A visitor who was sitting so close to his friend their knees were almost touching. A visitor sharing wine with his angel (he had no right to call him HIS, but still) in the back of the bookshop. Sitting in his spot. Drinking from his glass. Making his angel laugh and touch his arm!?!
"Angel?" He wanted to sound casual and failed miserably. Luckily Aziraphale seemed too surprised to notice the jealousy dripping from every sylable.
"Crowley, what a lovely surprise!" Aziraphale beamed.
"Let me put the kettle on, I'm sure you can keep the Doctor company for a few minutes."
The angel disappeared in the tiny kitchenette even further back in the bookshop and the second his blond curles vanished behind the door, the demon pounced. He took his glasses off and in two long steps he was suddenly sitting next to the intruder on the sofa, hissing a few inches from his surprised face.
"The angel issssssss mine. Handsssssssss off."
"Fantastic! Love the eyes! You were saying?"
Crowley froze for a minute, deciding whether or not his snake form might be more effective in this situation. Seeing the enthusiastic smile on the stranger's face, Crowley just sighed.
"Look, I don't know what you think you're doing, but Aziraphale is NOT available, understood?"
"Oh no, no. You thought I was what? What? I would never! With a married man?" The Doctor seemed genuinely shocked, shaking his head, his eyebrows high on his forehead.
"Aziraphale is not married." Crowley corrected, but the doctor seemed even more confused.
"What year is it?"
"2019?" Crowley answered trying to process everything.
"Yes, 2019, of course, this bookshop always messes my sense of time, it tastes differently here. Should have noticed the rings."
"What rings?" The confused demon asked.
"Exactly! Never mind. Time to go. It's been lovely meeting you... this is the first time we're meeting?" He shook Crowley's hand, getting up to leave, but pulling him closer by their joined hands.
"By the way, I'm not his type." He almost whispered.
"Yeah, you're right. Tall, skinny, mysterious, smart and funny has never been his type. Belive me, I know." Crowley said with as much sarcasm as he could muster.
"I'm not his type, because I'm not you, you idiot." The Doctor laughed before he shouted towards the kitchenette: "Have to run, Zira, see you round!"
And he was gone.
Crowley slumped back onto the sofa, staring towards the front door of the shop. Two seconds later, Aziraphale appeared with three steaming cups and some biscuits on a tray.
"I haven't seen him since the Blitz and he runs before the afternoot tea?" He sounded hurt.
"Since the what? He didn't seem THAT old." Crowley woke up.
"Oh, mind you, he was wearing a different face back then. I think I like this one better though, has a certain..."
"You're not making any sense, angel."
"You know how it is with the Doctor. Stops by to chat about the good old days of the Earth whenever he feels nostalgic. We go back thousands of years." Aziraphale mused as he sat the tray on the coffee table.
"No, I don't know how it is. Until this very day I thought I was the only friend you drink wine with in the back of your bookshop while laughing about the good old days." Crowley bit back.
"You sure you've never met him? He always talks about you."
"You don't have to lie to me, angel."
"I'm not! it's just a bit confusing to be friends with a time traveller."
"A what?"
"The doctor! An alien travelling through time and space, but for some reason has a soft spot for England?"
"Never heard of him."
"I do hope he stays longer next time. I have a feeling the two of you would have so much to talk about."
"Yeah, wouldn't be so sure about that."
Crowley's body wanted to stay, but his aching heart managed to get him to say goodbye and leave abruptly. Nothing a dram of Lagavulin wouldn't fix he thought to himself as he headed towards his flat.
Time travel. A married man. The rings. I'm not his type. Time travel. A married man. The rings. I'm not his type. I'm not you.
Crowley woke up on the floor of his living room and decided to do some shopping.
___
It was just after lunch when the demon found himself standing in front of the familiar bookshop.
Aziraphale got up from his chair as soon as he felt his presence, poured two gasses of merlot, sat down on the sofa in his back room and waited.
Without a single word, his oldest friend walked in, sat down next to him and drank the whole glass.
"So... this doctor. Does he only travel to the past, or..." Crowley started.
"The past, the future, the Earth or any other planet, he tells the most amazing..."
"Have you ever been married?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Have you ever been married, angel?"
"No, of course not. What a weird thing to ask. Have you?"
"No, no. But I think I might be sooner or later. It depends."
"Depends on what?"
Crowley slid down to one knee, fishing out a small box from his pocket.
"Will you marry me?"
"Shouldn't we kiss first?"