#the ineffable meet-cute

[waitingtobebroken]

GO fanfic idea No. [REDACTED]:

Crowley works in the city council and deals with issuing permits. Aziraphale comes EVERY. SINGLE. WEEK to apply for a different one. It's very annoying but Aziraphale is cute and funny and so he doesn't really mind.

But just as Crowley is gearing up to ask the cute angel on a date, the permits turn... strange. Suddenly, Aziraphale is applying for things like a sex shop licence and an environmental permit. Skin-piercing treatments permits but also a work permit to employ a child.

And Crowley has to decide if he wants to notify the council or continue flirting with the prettiest man he has ever met.

Give him a moment. It's a tough one.

(Yes, you are absolutely correct! It turns out Aziraphale was doing it just so HE could continue flirting with the prettiest man HE has ever met! And also because while talking to Nina, he found out that other people find it very hard to get permits and, being the bastard that he is, he wanted to see how far he could take this)

[ravelqueen]

People saying that Aziraphale is into bad boys and Crowley is into good boys actually have it the wrong way around! You guys are just getting distracted by the Aesthetic!

Proof: Crowley got interested in Aziraphale when he started acting a bit bad aka unangelically while Aziraphale meanwhile has heart eyes every time Crowley does something Kind (tm).

Q.e.d.

[lonicera-caprifolium]

a little hallmark meet-cute at the tree farm

(I'll leave it up to you which one is trying to do the selling though 💕)

[siskey]

‘Guaradians’

It’s been two years since I rebloged a little teaser of my submission for Of Feathers & Wings: A Good Omens Zine. I guess it’s time to post the full picture 😅

[aziraphales-library]

hello dear mods! do you have more meet-cutes? <3 thankssss!!

Hi! Here are some fics to add to our #meet cute tag...

Can I have your number? by AppleSeeds (G)

Aziraphale is delighted when a stunningly handsome bartender asks him for his number.

What I'm Playing For by his_infinitevariety (T)

Crowley takes part in a poker tournament at his local pub, but finds himself more interested in bantering with the blond across the table.

An Educator's Guide to Latin and Lobsters by theinkwell33 (G)

Aziraphale's been saddled with chaperone duty on a school field trip to the aquarium, even though he's a Latin professor who knows absolutely nothing about fish. One would think it'd be his downfall, but it turns out the only one it slays is one Anthony Crowley, marine biologist and harried aquarium employee.

luminous beings are we: a star wars (love) story by Waywarder (T)

Crowley is an employee at the notoriously sticky Apocrypha Cinema, where he hands out popcorn and mops up floors and pines after a certain frequent patron. He never expected this would be the film that gave him the courage to finally talk to him. or: The Movie Theatre AU wherein Star Wars is their love language.

Sound Investments by Caedmon (G)

When Aziraphale goes to donate a misprinted Bible for a charity auction, he somehow accidentally ends up auctioning himself. He's horrified to be won by a 'lanky man in black', and determined to tell the man that there's been a mistake when they meet after the auction to discuss the date. There is no way he will be going out with some complete stranger that 'bought' him. And then he actually meets the lanky man in black, and starts to think that perhaps going on the date might not be such a bad thing.

The Christmas Party by LadyMango (M)

Two strangers meet at a Christmas party. Neither of them got the memo that it was no longer fancy dress.

- Mod D

[mimisempai]

The greatest gift of all

Summary

Crowley has had to resign himself to spending his birthday in the airport coffee shop because of bad weather, but he meets a companion of misfortune. 

Are a few hours spent together in a waiting room enough to change an entire life?

Notes

I am fan of aiport meet-cute, so here you go. Hope you'll enjoy it!

On Ao3

Rating G - 2945 words

Crowley could have raged at the airline for not wanting to take any risks, at the bad weather and even at this damned conference,

but he knew he wouldn't change a thing; he was stuck in the airport coffee shop and he'd better make this night of waiting productive, his arrival in time for his own birthday party now definitely in jeopardy. He'd already phoned his sibling and his ears were still ringing from their protests and complaints. He took another sip of his coffee and told himself that at least he'd been lucky enough to get a good seat, meaning a comfortable seat and, most importantly, a seat with phone and computer connections that would allow him to work on his next conference.

Besides, there was something comforting about the fact that he wasn't the only one in this situation. Not long after he'd settled in, he'd seen a man rush in who seemed at least as relieved as Crowley to find a place similar to his own.

Crowley hadn't noticed him at all, not his sparkling eyes, his devastating smile, or the slightly tousled light hair that gave him a charming air.  Nor had he noticed the way he moved, as if he were dancing all the time, drawing the eye to a body that was not without its charms.

Of course, Crowley hadn't noticed any of this, because Crowley wasn't that shallow.

That didn't stop him from occasionally looking up from his laptop to sneak a peek at the other man. After an hour, he even found it amusing that although they didn't speak, they shared a kind of bond, displaying the same facial expressions when a child was too noisy or when a customer expressed his displeasure too loudly. Crowley began to think, absurdly, that he had a connection with this man. And even more absurdly, he found himself wanting to make that connection, but he thought about the circumstances, the "ifs" and "hows," and decided to forget about it. After all, since when did Crowley approach strangers out of nowhere?

So he focused on his laptop screen and continued working. 

A few minutes later, however, he was pulled out of his concentration not by the other man, but by an old lady who entered the cafe, desperate for a place to charge her cell phone - since when do old people have cell phones - and who said she was trying to contact her family. She trudged from table to table, exhaustion written all over her face. Sighing, Crowley was about to get up and offer her his seat when he saw that the light-haired man had beaten him to it and was offering the old lady his seat with a kind smile. He even went so far as to help her settle in, not leaving with his belongings until he was sure the old lady was comfortable.

Crowley wasn't particularly sociable and generally minded his own business, but the way the other man had behaved with the old lady had touched him, and he surprised himself by raising his hand to wave as the other man made his way to the counter.

When the light-haired man's eyes fell on Crowley, he motioned for him to come closer. The other man looked surprised - pleasantly surprised, Crowley hoped - and a broad smile appeared on his face, revealing dimples that renewed Crowley's interest.

When the man reached him, he said in a low voice that sounded slightly amused, "Hello, there."

He was exactly what Crowley had imagined.

Pointing to the seat in front of him, Crowley said, "I thought maybe you could sit here and we could share this prized possession. Then, holding out his hand, he added, "Anthony Crowley."

The man took Crowley's hand and squeezed it firmly as he replied, "Aziraphale Fell." Somehow his fingers seemed to brush Crowley's wrist for a moment, their hands lingering as their gaze remained fixed, then he added with a gentle smile, "Thank you for your generosity."

"Well, you were the one who was generous to the old lady in the first place."

"Oh, that hardly counts."

"It counted for her."

Crowley leaned over to push his luggage away, making room for Aziraphale to sit across from him. The man pulled out a spiral notebook, pencil, and eraser, which he placed on the table, then settled more comfortably into his seat and asked with a smile far too charming for Crowley's peace of mind, "So, Anthony, may I offer you a cup of coffee by way of thanks? "

"With pleasure, Aziraphale."

Aziraphale's eyes lit up and Crowley denied any feeling of butterflies in his stomach. A feeling he found hard to deny as it grew in the hours that followed.

Crowley had never realized how much truth there was in the saying that time flies when you're in good company. For time had flown with Aziraphale.

His companion was funny and witty, and Crowley wasn't sure if what amazed him most was the way Aziraphale showed his emotions so openly, the way they talked as if they'd known each other all their lives, or the way Aziraphale touched him so easily when he wanted to back up his words with a gentle squeeze of his hand or arm. Or now, the way Aziraphale slipped in next to him so they didn't have to speak loudly, the way he touched his thigh or leaned his head against him when he laughed out loud.

They spent the whole time discussing movies, literature, music, the conference Crowley had attended, the art exhibition Aziraphale had to go to, all the while commenting on the customers passing through the coffee shop. It was honestly one of the best evenings Crowley had spent since... well, that said a lot about him that he couldn't even remember ever having such a good time.

Aziraphale had at one point joked that their meeting was worthy of one of those rom-coms Crowley had said he loved so much, and Crowley found himself thinking the same thing as time went on.

After the coffee shop closed, they stayed together and tacitly made their way to an empty waiting room with deckchairs and blankets. In the half-light, they moved the chairs closer together and, lying down and covering themselves, continued to talk, broaching more personal subjects, feeling, without really understanding why, more and more at ease with each other.

Aziraphale spoke of always feeling different, apart, not always in tune with the people of his generation, of his not always happy childhood between an unloving father and a mother who died too soon, but he had also spoken with such joy of his bookshop, the street it was on, all his shopkeeper friends who had replaced his absent family and accepted him as he was. In response, Crowley had spoken of his adoptive sibling, Muriel, of their close relationship because they were both orphans, of his passion for the stars and the joy of making it his profession, of his odd passion for ducks, and had been surprised once again that Aziraphale had listened to him seriously and not once made fun of what he had said.

They both spoke of their loneliness and lack of a stable relationship, finding another common ground, another connection.

Then, without realizing it, lulled by the soft whisper of Aziraphale's voice, the warmth of his body that he could feel radiating from him, and his soothing presence, Crowley had fallen asleep.

He was awakened by the sensation of a brush on his forehead and a small pressure on his shoulder as his companion said softly, "Anthony...wake up."

The smell of coffee reaching his nostrils completed his awakening. He looked at his watch, shocked that he had slept for almost an hour. He'd never let his guard down like that, let alone with someone he'd just met. It spoke volumes about how quickly his feelings for his new friend were growing.

He straightened in his chair and took the steaming mug Aziraphale handed him with a gentle smile.

"I couldn't sleep, so I got us this."

Crowley asked in surprise, "You were awake the whole time?"

Aziraphale nodded. 

Crowley smiled and said approvingly, "You really are an angel, first the old lady you gave up your seat to, then offering me coffee and watching over my sleep.

"The sight was pleasant," Aziraphale replied in deflection, clearly embarrassed by the compliment, before adding teasingly, "but the snoring was quite unbearable."

Crowley exclaimed, "What?! But I don't sno-" he paused as Aziraphale burst out laughing.

"I changed my mind, you're a little devil."

He joined in his new friend's laughter when suddenly they were both interrupted by the voice from the loudspeakers. 

The air traffic will resume shortly.

Flight XXX to Glasgow Airport will be boarding in 30 minutes, please proceed to the gate.

Flight XXX to Cardiff Airport will be boarding in 45 minutes, please proceed to the gate.

They didn't listen as all traces of joy disappeared from their faces along with their laughter, for it was their respective flights that had just been announced. With a single movement, they began to pack their belongings, put their coats back on, and found themselves face to face, unable to say a word, unable to make a gesture. Unable to take their eyes off each other. 

Aziraphale was the first to break contact, glancing at their belongings. "I can watch your stuff if you still want to go to the restroom."

Crowley nodded and agreed. Anything to prolong the connection.

In the restroom, he took the opportunity to freshen up while he debated what to do. Aziraphale was charming, attractive, witty and intelligent. Not perfect, no, but perfect for Crowley, if he was honest with himself. They both lived in London, so distance wouldn't be a problem. 

Aziraphale had awakened a hope in him that he hadn't felt in a long time, and he felt that this budding relationship, if you can call it that, had great potential. He looked in the mirror and laughed to himself, there was nothing between them and it was almost as if he was already planning their life together. He didn't even know if Aziraphale was interested in him. 

Wasn't it crazy to consider a relationship with someone you'd only known for a few hours? 

But he found it hard to ignore the feeling of what if... what if he too had a right to happiness and he was letting it pass him by, what if this was his chance and he was letting it pass him by?

Was it worth the risk? 

Was Aziraphale worth taking a risk, this time completely recklessly?

Crowley didn't have to think long to know the answer. 

The answer was yes. 

Determined, he pulled out one of the business cards he always carried and a pen. He scribbled his personal number and hesitated a bit before adding, "Call me." 

When Crowley arrived at the entrance to the waiting room, he saw Aziraphale sitting there, staring at his phone, looking slightly dejected, which made Crowley's heart race with the hope that maybe Aziraphale was in the same frame of mind as he was.

When he saw him, Aziraphale smiled, not as brightly as before, but genuinely. He stood and waited for Crowley to join him when the loudspeaker called for the passengers to reboard the plane.

They approached each other, both visibly hesitant, neither willing to say the words that would end their encounter.

Aziraphale muttered, "Oh, damn... " then stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Crowley, pulling him close.

Startled, Crowley froze, then exhaled in relief as he wrapped his arms around Aziraphale.

Aziraphale murmured against his chest, "Happy birthday, Anthony."

"Thank you, Aziraphale." 

Crowley discreetly slipped the card into Aziraphale's coat pocket, then they stepped back and it was all over.

Crowley turned to pick up his luggage, grabbing his laptop bag and slinging it over his shoulder. Aziraphale had done the same and now he was dancing from one foot to the other, hesitating. 

He looked so adorable that it filled Crowley with a foolish surge of confidence and before he could think, he was leaning over the other man and brushing his mouth over his lips in a chaste kiss.

"Goodbye, Aziraphale." 

As he walked away, Crowley couldn't help but look back one last time to see that Aziraphale was still watching him and had brought his fingers to the lips Crowley had just kissed.

Crowley refrained from running toward him and continued walking. But as the distance between them grew, he felt his confidence evaporate like snow in the sun. He tried not to think about the other man as he crossed the airport. He tried not to wonder if Aziraphale would call him, and if so, when. Finally, he found his seat and, after putting his things away, made himself comfortable. That's when his phone buzzed in his pocket. 

Heart beating a little faster, he looked at the screen. 

The number was unknown.

Look in the front pocket of

your laptop bag. 

A.

The "A" immediately told him who it was. He did as the message instructed and was surprised to find a small package where it said. Inside was a small porcelain angel attached to a ring. Crowley had compared Aziraphale to an angel earlier, so Aziraphale had probably bought it in the souvenir shop next to the waiting room while Crowley was in the restroom. 

There was a small tag around the angel's neck with some words scribbled on it, Crowley looked closer. " So that you'll remember me." 

Crowley felt the butterflies come back. 

He grabbed his phone and quickly dialed the number, knowing his time was running out and not wanting to wait until he reached his destination to talk to Aziraphale.

He didn't even have time to get a word in before Aziraphale spoke up, "So can we talk before our planes take off? And maybe plan an evening for me to take you out to dinner when we're both back in London? In four or five days? As soon as you get back. Unless you'd rather wait-"

"Aziraphale!

"Huh? What?"

"Breathe..."

Crowley smiled at the sound of embarrassed laughter on the other end of the line, then assured Aziraphale that yes, they could meet. Absolutely. Without a doubt. The conversation was easy and full of eagerness to see each other again, to have another date - a real first date, something they both wanted. They talked for nearly half an hour before Crowley's flight took off. Aziraphale promised to text Crowley when he landed, and Crowley promised to do the same. 

As they hung up, they both thought that their meeting was truly worthy of a romantic comedy.

**********

A year later, to the day, Crowley and Aziraphale sat comfortably together on a sofa, watching television without actually seeing it.

On the coffee table in front of them were the remains of a birthday cake and two glasses of champagne.

Crowley lay with his head in Aziraphale's lap while one of Aziraphale's hands rested on his hip and the other was buried in his red hair.

Crowley sighed contentedly and murmured, "We couldn't have settled down like this a year ago." 

Aziraphale chuckled softly, "Well, we hardly knew each other," he brushed back a strand of Crowley's hair and continued, "Strange birthday, wasn't it?"

Crowley straightened up a little until he was almost sitting on his lover's lap. Then he wrapped his arms around Aziraphale's neck as Aziraphale's hands slid to his hips. He leaned forward and murmured against his lover's lips, "Best birthday ever, until this one, obviously."

He closed the distance and pressed his lips to Aziraphale's in a tender kiss.

Nothing could be truer. For a long time, Crowley had resigned himself to ending up alone. But a year ago, fate had put this man in his path, and what he'd thought was impossible had become his daily routine.

He no longer stayed at work because all that awaited him was a cold apartment; now he couldn't wait to get home, to Aziraphale's bookshop.

Living with his lover had been so easy. It was as if they both clicked. Each brought the missing piece to the other.

Only one thing remained.

Three words Crowley hadn't said.

Three words he had felt for a long time.

Three words he wanted to say now.

Aziraphale pulled him out of his thoughts by saying with a small smile on his lips, "You did get a little birthday present that day though, didn't you?"

"You mean this little trinket?"

Aziraphale replied with a knowing look, "That little trinket with the keys to your precious Bentley hanging on it? I think you must like it a little to have hung it there."

Crowley replied casually: "It's the one who put it in my pocket that I love."

Aziraphale tensed a little before pulling back to meet Crowley's gaze, "...you... ?"

"Yes." 

Crowley swallowed once and repeated clearly, "I love you, Aziraphale, my airport angel."

Aziraphale's smile widened, and then he cupped Crowley's face in his hands, brought it close to his own, and whispered, "I love you, too," before capturing his lips in a long kiss that went on and on, breaking only to reaffirm their love before kissing again. 

They both smiled blissfully when they finally parted long enough to catch their breath and then Crowley cuddled up to Aziraphale, who wrapped his arms around him as he gently kissed his lover's hair before whispering, "Happy birthday, my love."

Crowley could only nod against his lover's warm embrace.

Yes, it was the happiest of birthdays.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable fan fictions Masterpost : here

[evilasiangenius]

It was sunny on the last Friday of the month and the gardens were blooming. They made a plan to explore all the university gardens – in particular the botanical garden – but when they went through the rose garden, they ended up stopping to smell all the roses, one after another.

Some had the sweet fruitiness of ripe red lychees cracked open, juicy and translucent beneath thin nubbled shells. Some had a hint of something else and Crowley said she thought it was a citrus scent, the vaguest suggestion of lemon perhaps. Some had such a heady perfume that it was dizzying yet one sniff was not enough.

Others had little to no scent at all.

“What do you think this one will smell like?” Crowley wondered. “Oh, nothing, despite the pretty name. ‘True Love’. What a shame. It is pretty though.”

“I would hope that a rose named ‘True Love’ would have a pretty scent to it as well,” Mr. Fell remarked catching up to Crowley after he had lingered over a fragrant dark red bloom. “One would think it would be beautiful in every way; I would hope for more from true love than appearances. Unless of course the rose breeder was making some particular comment about love. Or perhaps it’s a sampling error, try another?”

Crowley leaned down once more to bury her nose in another bloom and another. “Nope, still no smell. Too bad.”

“A shame, I was hoping it would be an outlier.” Mr. Fell said, coming to give the rose a sniff for himself, to feel the touch of tender petals upon his lips and wonder if that counted as nearly sharing a kiss with Crowley.

As Crowley straightened up, she made a sound of surprise; her black silk scarf was caught upon the rosebush.

“Oh, your poor scarf,” Mr. Fell murmured, his fingers deftly lifting the delicate fabric from the thorn without tearing it, though a tiny torn puncture remained.

For a moment, it was as if he was wrapped up in her sultry perfume, he was standing so close.

For a moment, their fingers touched; she had reached for the scarf as well.

But her hand drew away quickly from his as if burned, though she hid the gesture by pulling the scarf closer about her neck where it had slithered loose once it was freed.

For a moment he could not breathe.

“It’s all right,” she smiled, but her expression was stiff. Trembling, she looked about as she began to walk swiftly away from the flowerbeds back toward the library. Some other people had entered the rose garden, and the two passed the interlopers as they left.

He followed her and looked at his pocketwatch. It was still early, but perhaps she had to prepare for a meeting, he thought optimistically, even though he knew at heart it must have been because he had offended her.

“I’m sorry about your scarf, I didn’t mean to–”

“It’s fine,” Crowley said, the corners of her mouth twitching as if she was trying to keep some particular expression off her face, though Mr. Fell could not guess what. “You’re fine, I’m not upset by you. Thank you for helping me back there.”

“You’re welcome, my dear. Any time.”

“To be snagged upon beauty and friendship…it’s worth it. Even if that ‘True Love’ didn’t have everything,” Crowley said, with surprising intensity, meeting his eyes though hers were obscured by her dark sunglasses.

“Even if it’s thorny?” Mr. Fell asked.

“Even so,” Crowley replied.

She apologized and excused herself right after that, and he watched her leave.

There was a pain in Mr. Fell that had not been there before her leaving, and it joined a multitude of other pains that he lived with every day.

But this one pricked him strangely and he could not say why.

more

[crunchyyetsatisfying]

To be continued...

[purple-fraggle]

Spoilery gifs - no major plot points

[xieleigh]

Am I the only one who thinks that Aziraphale wasn't just happening by when Angelcrowley called out. He zipped in there like he'd been "passing by" a lot, hoping he'd be noticed. "Yes?! Was that you?" That face isn't hiding anything.

[waitingtobebroken]

I present to you, yet another fic in my Ineffable Meet-Cute Series! (Is it really a meet-cute if they are childhood sweethearts that have been married for more than a decade but one of them doesn't remember? I'll let you decide!)

Late Night Visitors (Rated T, ~3.5K words)

Summary:

Crowley has come to Aziraphale's bookshop, very drunk and very intent on seducing himself an angel. There is only one problem. Aziraphale is already married. To Crowley.

And a tiny teaser:

"Angel," Crowley whispered, more a sigh than an actual word. Perhaps, it should have been his first sign that something was very wrong with the other man. It should have, except the decades together had done nothing to dull the sheer love in Crowley's eyes, whenever he looked at Aziraphale. The warmth in his touch, in his gaze, whenever he reached out for him. So when his husband called out to him, voice soft in reverence and awe, Aziraphale did not suspect anything, even for a moment. He did try to put a stop to the answering pull of his own lips, clamping them shut, lest they let something equally love-stricken tumble out. He was angry. And he was going to be angry for a very long time. Or, at least, the next few minutes. He couldn't promise himself anything more, he wasn't that strong.

As always, coming to archives near you this Saturday!

[oursupergoodwholockshadows]

My whole brain is rotten 💔😭

[carrieblmt]

Today I realized…✨💔

Please help……because I’m grappling with the epiphany that Aziraphale and Crowley are, very much quite literally, STAR-CROSSED LOVERS…and it doesn’t help my heart that Aziraphale has such a soft spot for Shakespeare. And I am not okay….✨💔✨💔✨💔

[aziraphales-library]

There's a fic I read ages ago that I can't seem to find again: human AU meet-cute, not sure if one-shot but definitely short (probably under ~8k?). Anathema takes a reluctant Aziraphale to a bar or club, Aziraphale bumps into Crowley, they talk, and are both surprised when it's revealed that Crowley's a librarian and Aziraphale's a botanist/botany professor. I'm dying to find it again so I can actually bookmark it this time!

Thanks for all your hard work, such an awesome account for finding and recommending fics!

I knew exactly which fic you're looking for...

Low Expectations by Mimsynims (T)

Despite his better judgement, Anathema manages to drag Aziraphale out to a nightclub. "You’ll never meet anyone by sitting at home, alone.” “Is that why you wanted me to come along?”  “Yes, book boy. I know you’d love to meet Mr Right in the library or a random bookshop, but since that hasn’t happened yet, I thought we’d try something else.” To say that he has low expectations is an understatement, but then someone unexpected catches his eye...

- Mod D

[philosophicaldefenestration]

it wasn't really a meetcute unless you created the universe together

[bamfwizard]

me, curled up in a cozy spot playing classical music with a nice book and a sweet treat: "you know, I'm such a crowley kin"