Well, That Was A Thing (Good Omens One-Shots)

54; The Serpent's Stash

Context: The many rings AU, inspired by my friend Jen sending this YT short: https://youtube.com/shorts/FRo5AZXQLaw?si=KVvXCOMClGrqLUkc
And saying: "HC where Crowkey got a ring every decade but always chickened out and just kept them"

Italics will be used for inner monologues/thoughts.

In which Crowkey got a ring to propose to Aziraphale, but he could never work up the courage. After a decade passed, he bought another, but he still couldn't find his nerve. And then, he did the same thing again in the following decade. And then the next one. And so on.

Word Count: 3,700

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Crowley's POV:

The Bentley gently pulled into Mayfair, like it always had. The pair was finally home. Crowley only hoped that Shax hadn't ruined anything in his flat. They hadn't given him much time to pack up his things. About an hour or so after receiving Hell's eviction notice, several goons showed up at his door. They didn't seem too afraid of him, so clearly, these demons hadn't witnessed his trial. Any lesser demon who had seen Crowley, well, 'Crowley', surviving the holy water bath wouldn't have dared to rush him out of the apartment.

Shax hadn't even bothered showing up to personally kick him out, since she was his replacement. Although, maybe that had been for the better. Seeing the smug look on her face as he was forced to leave might have caused him to lose his cool. And at that moment, he needed to be grateful that Hell had decided to keep him at arm's length, rather than under their thumb. It gave him room to breathe.

And right now, that's exactly what he needed. He entered the flat and, somehow, it felt like the walls had welcomed him home. He took a deep breath, looking around. Everything seemed to be exactly as he had left it. Minus the plants he had been able to take when he had been kicked out. With a snap of his fingers, the greenery from the Bentley's backseat was back in its proper spot in, the plant room.

He kept walking through his flat, checking every single detail. It was as if no one else had ever stepped foot in there. Good. He needed the privacy. The last thing he needed was the residue of someone else's aura looming over him as he had a breakdown.

Crowley slumped down the side of his desk, head in his hands. Tears burned as they brimmed his eyes and traced down his face. He was furious. Furious at Heaven. At Aziraphale... At himself.

His hand reached into his jacket's inner pocket and he pulled out a small box. Vintage in style, but not in materials. It was an octagonal shape, dark blue in color. A tiny golden clasp kept it closed. He opened it and his eyes, somehow, seemed to burn more. The inside was lined with velvet, the same color as the outside of the box. At the center, was a ring.

You bloody coward. You fucking idiot! You should have asked! He might have stayed... Of all the times to back out... FUCK!

He snapped the little box shut. He pulled himself back up, striding into the plant room where his wrestling statue was. With a snap of his fingers, a handle appeared at the center of the pedestal which held the aforementioned sculpture. He opened the secret compartment. Eight more ring boxes, identical in size and style, but in a variety of colors, taunted him. They were neatly placed into little cubicles, to keep them from rolling around the whole drawer.

It had taken him far too long to realize how much he loved Aziraphale. And even longer to accept those feelings. He thought he had been hiding it well. That he could keep hiding it until he had the perfect moment. And then the coffee shop girl, Nina, had pointed out that it was the most obvious thing ever!