Summary: It's date night and Crowley surprises you with a trip. British!Reader.
Palpitations rumbled from the ground, up to your feet and through your chest as explosion after explosion decorated the sky in multicoloured sparkles of light, the thudding bass of the music only adding the urge to dance on the spot beneath the smoky heavens. In the corner of your eye, you caught the never-fading peach glow of the bonfire as it chewed away at wood pallets and any leaves that had the misfortune of being blown into its heated grip, the twenty-foot flames deliciously licking at the air to chase away the tornado of embers above it. You lifted your head up and to your right and watched as Crowley's face was lit up with a plethora of hues, painting his face like a watercolour. You couldn't help but be enchanted by the way he stared up at the lights. His eyes were heaven's mirror, beautifully replicating the fireworks as they bloomed with a bang. The smell of ash and smoke was starting to fill your lungs and you coughed; it was then that Crowley's attention shifted back to you and you were thrown back into the consciousness that the two of you weren't alone, but drowning in a sea of people nearing the mid thousands.
Despite the sudden self-consciousness, your gaze remained fixed on the demon king. The music shifted beat again, another song began to play and the fireworks adjusted accordingly, spinning like ribbons and shooting across the sky like stars in colours of silver, blue and red. You slyly shuffled closer to the king as dragon's breath pooled from your lips. "Thank you for bringing me here." You had to shout above the cheers and music, and the shimmer of red across your face was not from the fireworks as you looked back up at the sky to watch a particularly large explosion burst. "Living in America all these years, I don't remember the last time I celebrated Bonfire Night."
Crowley pulled his hands out of his coat pocket to wrap it around your shoulders and pull you further into him. "You're welcome, sweetheart." You snatched a glance at him and leaned your head on his chest. A thin layer of smoke had begun to settle in the air but it only seemed to add to the ethereal sensation fireworks always gave you.
When he'd approached you in the bunker only half an hour ago for your weekly date night, you had no idea why he'd told you to wrap up excessively warm and wear your most practical (and comfortable) boots. It was a particular shock to you when you took his outstretched arm and suddenly the world went black, except for the sporadic colours of rollercoaster rides and food stands, and he chuckled when you recognised the festival from when you were only small and realised the reason it was so dark was because England is six hours ahead of Kansas. You'd pulled him into the hardest embrace the two of you had ever shared, and it took him off guard but you only held on tighter, whispering an emotional "thank you" in his ear.
"Did you celebrate it back in Scotland?" Your curiosity got the better of you, despite knowing Crowley's past wasn't a fond topic for him. But you were surprised to see a slight grin on his face.
"A little." Clearly it was a topic for another day, and you returned with a knowing smile.
Moments past as you both stood in comfortable silence, drinking in the atmosphere, until you felt Crowley move against you. The rosy skin on your face suddenly went warm as a plume of air pushed against it, and you slowly turned. Crowley had leaned down, his lips close to your own and suddenly the world began to slow. For several seconds he stayed there, a mere inch away from you, and you clenched your toes within your boots to keep yourself patient. He closed the gap with a snap, his lips pressed hard on yours and his stubble poked at your skin. With your back still against his chest, there wasn't much you could do beyond reach your arm up and wrap your fingers around the back of his neck, but it was more than enough of an action for Crowley to deepen the kiss.
A cacophony of bangs and fizzles and crackles all driving to a crescendo filled your ears, but you were so fixated on the warmth of Crowley's face and the smell of his cologne that you no longer cared for the gaiety that you'd only last encountered when you were seven years-old. Your heads moved in perfect synchrony as his tongue snaked into your mouth, and you only parted when the music ended with a symphony of violins, only to be succeeded by the roaring cheer of the crowd. The night sky returned as the last few fireworks fell into a shower of golden glitter. Your fingers grazed across Crowley's face and you caught the short hairs of his beard in your fingernails.
"Remember, remember the fifth of November." You mumbled, smiling with your lips pursed.
"Oh, I have a feeling you won't be forgetting this one for a while." Crowley retorted with a mischievous glee, a smirk on his face that only came out when he had a plan in store, and you fought back an excited shudder as the two of you started to flow with the departing crowd.
Happy bonfire night/Guy Fawkes Day! I went to a festival last night that hosted some pretty feckin' awesome fireworks and I was inspired to write something for it, so this is a little dedication to my fellow British Crowley fans! It's not the best work I've done, I could only sit down and write for a few hours so it's had minimal editing done, but I hope you like it regardless.