Chapter Text
There wasn't a splash.
Ligur and Hastur stopped walking towards the manor when they realized this and doubled back to where they'd hauled the ragdoll up and over the edge to drop him into the deepest, hottest part of the springs. Virtually unsurvivable, them.
But even an overgrown pillow should've made a splash. “What the-” They looked, but saw nothing but the bubbling, boiling water below. No sign of even a hint of creams or beige.
“Where’d that soft idiot get to?” Hastur wondered.
“Dunno, but we’ll kill ‘im when we find ‘im.”
Crowley had heard and seen enough, honestly, and it wasn’t like anyone who mattered was going to miss either of them. “Hey, guysss,” he said and with a shove he sent Ligur spiraling into bubbling depths. Watching Hastur from the corner of his eye. “Ssssoft, eh? Don’t see what’sss so bad about that.”
Hastur looked down to see Ligur melting away in the boiling depths, then snapped his gaze back to the serpent. Half-serpent, only half of his form human at present. His shirt and jacket didn’t end at legs, but scales that coiled right off the edge of the bridge. “He hadn't done nothin' to you!” Hastur shouted.
“Me? Noooo.” Crowley shifted to look at Hastur straight on. “But he damaged ssssomeone I care very much about.” It was quick, much too quick for anyone with untrained eye. Crowley suddenly had clawed hands wrapped around Hastur’s neck. “And you, jussst now, tried to hurt Azssssiraphale. Very bad idea on your part.”
He dropped Hastur over the edge to join his companion. Watching in satisfaction as he fell and screamed before landing with that splash he and Ligur had been missing. “Alright, angel?” Crowley asked as he shifted his coils to pull his friend onto the bridge.
“I...” He wasn't entirely sure, still reeling from the whiplash of Crowley supposedly being dead to being caught in smooth scales rather than boiling waters. “I haven't seen this form before,” his mouth decided to say.
Crowley looked down at himself, as if he’d didn’t know what he looked like. It was true Aziraphale hadn’t seen this form but it wasn’t all that different, he didn’t think. Where hips and legs normally were, thick strong coils began below a humanoid torso.
He crossed his arms. “Don’t like it?”
“I didn't say that,” Aziraphale quickly replied, his still very not attached hands leaping from his pockets to land on the smooth scales. “I'll get used to it.”
Get used to it. He hoped, desperately, that meant Aziraphale planned on staying in Halloween Town. Well, he needed to save Sandy Claws so he could save Christmas before he could even think about that. “Right. Good. I, er, I need to- I gotta go.” Eyes flicking from Aziraphale to the manor and back.
Aziraphale blinked at him. He couldn't just go. The Christmas curse hadn't afflicted him after all. He was still himself if he was throwing people off bridges. Wasn't he? “To save...? To save Santa? Right, yes. I'm obviously going with you.”
“Go- Going with-” He should have known Aziraphale would want to make sure he did it right, didn’t screw up again. “Right. Obviously.” It only took a moment of concentration to shift his lower half from snake to legs. “Course. Let’s go then.”
Aziraphale ignored the fact that his hands were on Crowley’s thighs. Treacherous things. “Good, yes. I'm... Crowley, I'm so glad you're alright. And I'm sorry. I did try to rescue him on my own, but I... Well, you saw how well that turned out.”
Crowley wanted to comfort him, pull him into his arms and tell him it was alright. Tell him he didn’t have to try and fix the mess Crowley himself had made. It was also incredibly distracting to have Aziraphale’s hands on his legs quite so blatantly. He hadn’t realised they weren’t attached when he shifted. He scooped them up and set one on each shoulder, easier to walk without having the softest, warmest, hands he’d ever felt squeezing his legs. “S’alright. Gonna fix it. Just stay close.”
“That's certainly the plan.” Aziraphale gave his hands a stern look he already knew was likely to be ignored. He was too relieved that he was there and whole. “I know how to get in, so we won't be noticed. Let's go, my dear. The sooner this is all taken care of, the sooner we can go home. Satan had the poor man in a cage.”
“Right, yeah,” Crowley said, trying to ignore the way one of Aziraphale’s thumbs was rubbing at his neck. “Better’n my plan. Was just gonna kick the door in.” He hoped ‘home’ meant his home and not the Angels' manor and certainly not Christmas Town.
“Of course you were, silly thing. This way now.” Aziraphale looped an arm around one of Crowley’s to guide him along to the side of the manor. He was alive, but something still didn't seem quite right with him. It was probably best to stay close just in case. “It's built like the Angels’ estate, so I know the ins and outs rather well.”
“Well, thank the full moon for that,” Crowley mumbled, blown away by the combined possessive grip Aziraphale hands had on his shoulders and the arm tugging him through dark passageways and down rickety stairs. He couldn’t tell if it was because Aziraphale was determined to make him fix the mess he made or because, as he said, he was happy he was okay. Regardless of the reason, Crowley was determined to commit this to memory and soak in it as much as possible.
The farther they descended, the hotter it got. Crowley was secretly jealous ol’ Lucifer had claimed the underground volcano as his, he didn’t even need the heat. What was he even doing with it anyway? Hardly anyone ever got melted by magma; it was a complete waste.
He pulled Aziraphale to a stop just before they reached the bottom, cackles and a singular voice rising from below and bouncing up the stairwell. “Angel, hold up a tick.”
“What is it, dearest?”
Dearest. Aziraphale still thought he was dearest. Fuck, he was going to melt into a puddle, and not from the heat. That had to mean something, it had to. “Listen, I want you to stay out of this as much as you can. Let me worry about Satan. You get ol’ Sandy out of that cage.” He scooped up the hands from his shoulders, one he had to tug loose because it refused to let go. “Gonna need these, I think.”
Aziraphale nodded, shooing his hands away. “To the cage now. Let's try this again, I suppose.” He looked up at Crowley as they scampered across the floor. “You'll be careful, won't you? Shadwell said something about you being blown out of the sky, and I don't want... As much as I adore your curiosity, there should be a reasonable limit.”
“You don’t have to worry, angel. Satan and I are old rivals - I know all his tricks. Nothin’ for me to get curious about down here.” But Aziraphale said he adored him - or, something about him anyway. “Tell ya about the blown up bit when we get Sandy outta here.”
“Yes. We clearly need to have a chat. And don't look so nervous about it. I... Oh.” Aziraphale bobbed up and touched their lips together. Too quick and light to be called a proper kiss, but he hoped it was clear enough anyway. “Mind how you go,” he wished and turned to make his quick, soundless way across the floor to get Santa free and stay out of Satan's notice.
Crowley stared after him, stunned, lips still tingling. Aziraphale had- Aziraphale had-
Oh.
Oh.
He pressed fingers to the lingering warmth and found that he didn’t care whatever Aziraphale wanted to ‘have a chat’ about as long as that happened again. Preferably often.
Crowley gave himself a quick shake. Focus, focus. He had to keep Satan occupied and let Aziraphale save Sandy first. He could think about all the ways he wanted to kiss Aziraphale later.
And with significantly more gusto, Crowley inched his way into the volcanic chamber. Craters of magma popping and spewing noxious fumes and heat. Various cages were scattered around, some hanging from the cavernous ceiling, others littering the far sides, and even a few half dissolved in liquid rock. There were a few other old-timey torture devices: an iron maiden, a rack, thumbscrews and spiked collars hanging from hooks. It was all very scary, certainly a place no mortal being would want to be, but it was also very… typical. It was no wonder Lucifer-call-me-Satan hadn’t taken the title from him. There was no originality here at all.
Crowley had to grin to himself at the sight of Aziraphale slinking behind a pile of cages while their enemy’s back was turned and focused on gloating at a caged Sandy Claws, held suspended over a table of handheld torturous implements. The grin grew when he noticed another table with straps, apparently recently prepared and pulled out, was tilted towards him.
Aziraphale noticed it and Crowley’s grin, shaking his head at him. Ridiculous creature. One of his hands jumped and landed right on one of Satan’s horns, and it was rather satisfying for a first scare. Aziraphale smothered a giggle, watching him try to grab at the hand jumping horn to horn, just barely avoiding being caught.
Crowley slid into place and gave what witty one-liner he was going to use a quick thought, it didn’t need to be extravagant, just good enough to get a few laughs in a retelling. He peeked out over the edge of the table and snickered quietly at the sight of the big red behemoth stumbling around and snatching uselessly at Aziraphale’s bouncing hand.
He had to duck back down as Satan stumbled near, apparently intending on using one of his many devices to do away with the bother atop his head.
The table tilted and Crowley grinned wide and toothy at his old rival. “Helloooo, Luci.”
Satan stilled, though it was hardly long enough to be noticeable. He arched a brow instead, scanning the decadent pose he’d decided to sprawl his limbs into. “Crowley? And here I thought you’d been - what did that bumbling idiot say? - blown to bits. Pity.”
“Mmm, yeah, didn’t stick, I’m afraid.” Crowley sat up and almost laughed at the hand that hopped from Satan’s horn to his shoulder. He gave it gentle caress from knuckle to wrist and back, knowing Aziraphale was going to feel it. “You and I have a matter to discuss.”
“Do we?” He eyed the hand with the barest hint of recognition. “I see Hastur and Ligur didn’t do their job properly. Fond of the little doll, are you?”
He knew Aziraphale was nearby, probably hearing every word, and he resisted the urge to look around and check, not wanting to give up their plan or draw attention to him. “Bit more than ‘fond.’ It was a mistake to have your goons hurt someone close to me.” He was not about to admit the depth of his feelings out loud to someone before he even told Aziraphale himself. “I would suggest making sure I'm actually gone before trying it again.”
Satan tsked, wagging a finger at him. “You know how I feel about trespassers, Crowley, and he was trying to take my-” He looked up at the cage, breaking off when he saw the second hand deftly popping the last of four locks. How the bloody- “Where is he?” Satan snarled, looking back down at Crowley. “You can’t just take Sandy back so soon. We’re just getting to know each other.”
Crowley grinned, definitely more than a little lovesick. “You know, and I’m actually being honest here, I have no idea where he is. Sneakiest bastard I know.” He finally swung his legs off the table. “And that’s where you’re wrong. I, in fact, have a card called ‘Pumpkin King’ that says I can do what I want. And what I want is Sandy Claws. You can give him up easy, or we can do this the old-fashioned way, your choice.”
“Do you even know what the old-fashioned way is? You’re always playing your new games. No respect for the classics.”
“The classics are dull and overused. That’s why I’m the King and you're not.” Just as he’d suspected, ol’ Luci was still easy to keep talking. Prone to gloating and talking a big game without much actual follow through. At this rate Sandy would be free and out of here without him having to do much at all. “But you’re right. Barely even remember how it’s done, been so long since anyone’s been stupid enough to challenge me.” He ran his fingers up Aziraphale’s hand again, just because he could.
It made Aziraphale want to swat at him for being distracted and distracting, but he clearly couldn’t. His hands had wanted to be held by that serpent for far too long to give up the chance by smacking him away. Though hearing him admit to being more than fond of him had been quite the indication that hand-holding may be a thing they’d be able to indulge in in the future.
His other hand got the door open whilst Satan continued to snarl and snap at Crowley, his threats and tone spine-tingling in the way of an old film with visible wires. Crowley’s quips were more like a modern haunted house, in one’s face and thrilling. Aziraphale liked listening to them, and he liked being able to help in his way.
Except Santa wasn’t doing his nose touch thing, so that was rather concerning. He was watching the back-and-forth with some fascination instead. Or possibly irritation. It was difficult to tell from his angle. Aziraphale sighed quietly to himself and had his hand skitter into the cage to gesture and, when Santa looked down, Aziraphale briefly waved towards the open door and table before slipping his arms behind his back.
Thankfully, the leader of Christmas Town took that clear hint and made his way out. Aziraphale’s brows lifted at the soundless way he moved, though he wasn’t entirely surprised. He was as good at sneaking about as Aziraphale was, according to the stories. It wasn’t too unbelievable that Crowley would’ve gotten himself caught so much as to be shot down. He was certainly more designed to kick doors in and announce his presence than he was to hide, shadow skulking not his forte.
Santa approached him cautiously, and Aziraphale offered him an apologetic smile as he scooped down to encourage his hand to come back to his wrist. “So sorry about this, dear fellow. I’m afraid we’ve rather made a mess of things.”
“Haven’t you just. You were on the porch. When he,” he jerked a thumb back towards Crowley, “stole my hat.”
“Ah.” That explained it. The tales of the magic in his hat were so inconsistent, Aziraphale hadn’t been certain of the truth behind them. “Yes. It... was a bit of a shock to see you, actually. I wasn’t aware how serious Crowley was taking his little Christmas game.”
“Christmas game?”
There was a skyward burst of magma behind them, and Aziraphale’s second hand skittered up so he could finally begin reattaching them. He could still see Crowley slithering his way around the dangerous spires as they sprang up, so didn’t panic as he stitched. “He’s... enthusiastic. He’ll be done with Satan soon, though, and we’ll get your hat returned so you can go off and, ah, save Christmas.” Aziraphale frowned at him. “You’re not going to... do something to try and, er, imbue Crowley with the spirit of Christmas or any such nonsense to teach him a lesson, are you? He’s fine just as he is.”
Santa looked from him to the magma pools, watched a man get replaced with an enormous snake who squeezed the devil hard enough to pop his eyes out. “No, I think it’s best that he stays in whatever ridiculous place this is.”
“Oh, good. And it’s Halloween Town.” Santa slanted him a look, and Aziraphale’s apologetic smile returned. “I don’t suppose I would care much about the town I was kidnapped into either, but I’ll have you know Christmas sounds like quite the ridiculous place as well. I read all the books, and they all have dreadfully happy endings.”
Crowley’s hiss vibrated the entire area and Aziraphale casually guided Santa back a step so they could avoid being crushed by a beam falling from the ceiling. Santa stared at the beam, then sighed. “I suppose that’s a sensible complaint for a place like this.”
“Mmhm. If you die, is it permanent?”
“I wouldn’t know. I haven’t suffered that affliction yet.”
“Ah. My brain has, but I haven’t. As I don’t believe either of us wish to do so, perhaps we should wait on the stairs.”
“Lead the way.”
Aziraphale nodded, then called out, “Crowley! If you could stop playing about, darling, we really need to leave!”
Crowley hissed in delight at the new pet name, tightening his coils around the prone Lucifer. He was darling now. He wasn’t quite sure what had prompted that, but he was not about to complain about it. “Well, Lucssi, ssseems your number hasss come up. It wassss fun, and I’ll ssssend a necromancssser over later, but don’t crosssss me in the future.”
He dropped the defeated Satan into a nearby magma pool, howls of rage devolving to screams of pain, then just irate gurgles. He could just leave him as a molten husk, but then something else might try to replace him in the power vacuum and Crowley liked knowing his enemies.
He was person shaped again when he found Aziraphale and Sandy Claws by the stairs up. Sandy looked very put out and was glaring at him, but Aziraphale looked like he usually did when Crowley handed him a new book. “Ready to get out of here, Sandy?”
“He has been, Crowley. You didn’t lose his hat when you were shot down, did you?”
“Huh? ...Oh! Nope!” Crowley reached into his black jacket and pulled out the hat, offering it to its owner. “Surprisingly enough, despite the suit being torn to bits, the hat didn’t even have a sooty smudge.”
Aziraphale sighed fondly. “Oh, my dear...”
Santa just snatched his hat up. “Bumpy sleigh ride?” He wagged a finger Crowley’s way, a lecture the extent of what he was willing to do with Christmas Eve ticking away. “The next time you get the urge to take over someone else’s holiday, I’d listen to him.” He gestured at Aziraphale. “He’s the only one who makes any sense around this insane asylum!” He pulled his hat down and started to march away, closer to a pipe Aziraphale assured him would take him outside. Away from the hot springs.
Crowley pouted after him. They didn’t have an insane asylum. Well, not anymore. The old Pumpkin King had, but it hadn’t been scary, just sad. So Crowley had done away with it; there wasn’t anything frightening about people who just needed a little help.
“Well, that was a thing. What got into him?”
“You, you silly serpent.” They watched him press his finger to the side of his nose and disappear through a pipe no wider than a fist, and Aziraphale smiled. “There we are. Everything should be right as rain again.”
Crowley turned the pout onto Aziraphale, and then quite clearly remembered it was, in fact, his fault. He sighed and shuffled his feet. “Should probably get outta here, let the town know I’m not dead. ‘M sure Gabriel’s already planning his hostile takeover.”
Aziraphale lifted his chin. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve left their employ.”
Oh. Crowley stared and took a half step closer. “Yeah?” He asked, fingers skittering at his sides, unsure if he was allowed to reach out or not. It was all well and good to tease when in the thick of things, but now that everything was done it had more meaning.
“Yes. They... Well, they came and stole me away before you'd taken off, and told me I was going to be permanently locked in the cellar. And I...” He twisted his ring around, dropping his gaze to it. “Well, it's been so wonderful not being near them and they've told me so many lies about town. It's not at all what I thought it was, and I've had all these experiences because of you. And I had to help you, of course, so I... I told them we were friends, and I left. And I never want to go back to that wretched manor again.”
“Angel, you don’t ever have to go back if you don’t want to,” Crowley said softly, stepping close and lifting his fingers to graze Aziraphale elbows. “You’re welcome to stay with me as long you’d like.”
Aziraphale slowly lifted his gaze to meet Crowley’s. “I was hoping you'd say so. There's nowhere else I'd like to be.”
Crowley smiled sadly. He’d wanted Aziraphale to get away from his creators and start making his own decisions, and he’d wanted to hear him say that he wanted to stay but he didn’t think he could keep this Christmas thing up. “Well, you’ll always have a place with me, angel, but I don’t think this Christmas thing is for me. So- So if that’s what you want, I’ll show you how to get it.”
Aziraphale laughed. “Why in the world would I want anymore of that silliness? I'm glad you've gotten it out of your system, my dear.”
“Er.” Crowley blinked in confusion. “But- But you- you said you… You said you wanted cheer and- and good feelings. That Halloween Town didn’t have enough of that.”
“Crowley, that was... The Angels told me there wasn't, and I never got a chance to find out otherwise. And, well... I'd only ever experienced cheer and, ah, good feelings while with you. Now I know better.” Brow furrowed, Aziraphale gave him just as puzzled a look. “What does your curiosity about Christmas have to do with that?”
Crowley’s jaw slowly dropped and hung open. “What does- Angel! It’s- Christmas is- The whole point’s cheer and ‘good feelings!’ You said that’s what you wanted, so I found it and brought it to you.”
“You... You... Crowley. I only went along with all of this because you seemed so excited, and the premonition I had made me worry about you.”
“Premo- What premonition?”
“Oh, my.” Aziraphale stepped back, fidgeting with his ring anew. “The night before you gave everyone tasks, a prophecy appeared in one of my Christmas books and then I had a vision of a Christmas tree shattering. So I, ah, I've been trying to stay close in order to make sure nothing bad happened to you?”
“Wha- I- You- Why didn’t you say anything?” He stepped forward, not willing to let Aziraphale get far.
“Because you seemed so happy, and I- I didn't want to upset you. Besides, I assumed it was just going to be a small thing in town. I didn't know you were going to risk so much trying to steal Christmas entirely!” Aziraphale pressed the air down as if he could press his own worries and shock away. “What if you'd ended up like Scrooge or the Grinch? I was so afraid I was going to lose you to all this foolishness, and you were doing it for me? Why didn't you say anything?”
“Why didn’t I say anything?! Of course I was doing it for you! I wanted you to-” He wanted Aziraphale to see him as someone who could make him happy. Wanted him to see that Halloween Town wasn’t so bad. Show him how wrong the Angels were in keeping him locked away. “I just- I wanted to make you happy. And I found Christmas Town and it was all full of cheer and stuff and I thought if I got Halloween Town involved you’d want to be out more.” Crowley sighed and looked away. “I didn’t mean to worry you. I just… I thought this was what you wanted.”
“Crowley...” Aziraphale had done quite a few brave things that night. What was one more? “All I want is you.”
He stared at Aziraphale in amazement. “Me? You- You want me?”
“Don't you know I'm never as happy as when I'm with you? Of course I want you, you ridiculous creature.” His gaze fell. “If, ah, if you want me as well. You did tell Satan you were rather more than fond of me, but I don’t want to assume.”
Crowley flushed. He’d sort of hoped Aziraphale hadn’t heard that, just in case it wasn’t okay. “Of course I- Ngk- ‘Course I do. I, erm, wouldn’t use ‘fond’ myself, really. More like-” His heart leapt to his throat and he had to swallow it down. “More like, ah, ‘love,’ I’d say.”
“Oh, Crowley...” Aziraphale didn’t quite swoon, but he swayed closer and wrapped his arms around Crowley’s neck. “That's the word I'd use too.”
“Oh.” He hadn’t expected to have an armful of Aziraphale but luckily his body knew to wrap arms around his ample waist and hold him tight while his brain processed the new development. “You- You’re- You- You love me?”
“Of course I do, though I think I'd like to save telling you just how much for later. We should really return to town now.” Though he didn't step back, fingers stroking through the hair at the nape of Crowley’s neck.
This was it. Aziraphale was in his arms, stroking the back of his neck, smiling up at him unashamed and happy. “Y-yeah… We, uh, should probably… probably go back,” Crowley whispered, slowly leaning in. “Just, ah, just gotta do somethin’ first.” He closed what was left of the short distance between their mouths, capturing Aziraphale’s lips with his in a proper kiss this time.
Aziraphale let his hands have what they wanted, grip tightening in his jacket and sliding higher into his hair to tangle in surprisingly soft strands. He was warmer than normal from their location, soaking up the heat in his cold-blooded way. It made Aziraphale want to laugh, but he didn't want to break this wonderful new connection more.
The fingers slipping through his hair, all of Aziraphale’s plushness pressed to his sharp angles, and that warm mouth moving against his with equal enthusiasm. He broke the kiss to trail more across Aziraphale’s cheeks, panting breathy laughs between each press. “Now that’s how you do a proper kiss, angel,” Crowley rumbled, giddy and only slightly breathless.
“Well, clearly I have some learning to do.” Aziraphale giggled, eyes closing as Crowley’s lips traveled over his face. It was so new and lovely, Crowley’s laughter a thrill. “You'll have to teach me.”
Crowley snorted and pulled back far enough to touch the tips of their noses together, not wanting to go far but also wanting to see him. “Teach you? If you think I have any idea what I’m doing you haven’t been paying attention.” He gave Aziraphale a gentle squeeze. “Got plenty of time to learn, though.”
He had been paying attention. Quite a bit of it, actually, and saw very clearly just how many beings wanted their Pumpkin King's affections. To be the first one to earn them was a surprise that quickly had him melting into Crowley even more. “Yes. That sounds wonderful.”
“Delighted to hear it, angel,” Crowley growled and ducked in to kiss him again, guiding Aziraphale back a set to press him to the wall in the narrow corridor. Fully prepared, willing, and able to snog his angel senseless.
“Oi, Satan you let-! Crowley?!”
Crowley pulled away with a hiss, but did not actually back up, nor let Aziraphale go. “Do you mind?!”
Aziraphale ducked his head, giggling against Crowley’s neck. “Don't be mean, dearest. Well... Too mean.”
He meant to grumble something about ‘showing him mean,’ but four very excited, and very irate, children had already converged upon them. They had, apparently, figured setting Sandy Claws free was their best course of action and had planned on taking on Satan themselves. Despite the interruption, Crowley was proud of their gumption even if it was a bit belated.
“Alright, alright. Time to head back. Guess I’ve played dead long enough.”
“Probably best,” Adam said, nodding. “Gabriel’s already in the town hall causing a ruckus.”
“Says we've gotta pick a new king straight off-”
“Even though we could pick a queen,” Pepper interrupted.
“Right,” Brian agreed. “But we need one straight off on account of all the Christmas. Been a whole two months since Halloween.”
“But now we can show you're alive, actually, and we won't need anybody new in charge.”
Crowley nodded along with them, happy to let the kids talk and bicker amongst themselves while they made their way outside Satan's manor and back towards the town. He kept his arm around Aziraphale’s waist, reluctant to let him go and still reeling from the recent changes to their relationship.
Aziraphale was happy enough to let him, though as the crowd began to take notice of them, he started to fidget with his ring. His insecurities hadn't exactly evaporated in Satan's basement, and he wasn't entirely sure what kind of reception he'd receive being wrapped in Crowley’s rapidly cooling hold. Though when he tried to pull away to let excited beings cheer and shout about Crowley’s decidedly normal not-dead state, he was held fast.
“Crowley!” Young Shadwell shouted into his microphone, his speakers squealing and crackling. “What're ye doin'?! Saw ye git shot!”
“Come on now!” Crowley shouted back, grinning. “You really thought a measly human missile was enough to keep me down? After all these years you’d think you’d have more faith in your Pumpkin King!” He looked out at the crowd and kept Aziraphale tucked close. No one would dare say anything if they knew what was good for them.
Gabriel pushed his way forward, the other three Angels flanking him. “You've still wasted this town's time for two months!”
Crowley’s grin turned sharp and pointy, fangs gleaming in the moonlight. “Really, Gabe? You think it was a waste to co-opt an entire other holiday out from under the noses of its people? Because of you all,” he waved his free arm at the crowd, “I was able to spread fear and terror all in the name of another holiday! Now, every Christmas, the humans will be able to think of nothing but the frights of Halloween! Now I don’t think that’s a waste at all.”
Some humans, anyway. Crowley might very well become another tale in Christmas Town. But Aziraphale didn't mind Crowley’s happy ending, not so far.
Smiling, he tipped closer to him while the crowd's murmurs began to turn. Shouts, hisses, growls of approval began to arise while Gabriel’s frown turned more severe. The idea that Crowley had done it all on purpose, had effectively given them two Halloween nights that year, was astounding. His actual motivation would stay between him and Aziraphale, but the town didn't need to know. The Angels in particular didn't need to know.
“So sorry, Gabriel.” Feeling bold, Aziraphale clasped his hands. “I don't think any chart you could come up with would prove you right.”
Flames flared on the steps of Town Hall, but Tracy’s laughter beat out whatever any of the Angels may have been about to snap. “I think you're right, Mr. Aziraphale. It's been an exciting two months, and I don't know about everyone else but I've got quite a bit of inspiration for next Halloween.”
Crowley pointed at Madame Tracy dramatically. “Exactly! I’ve got a whole swamp load of new ideas!” The crowd seemed to agree, excited chatter over what they planned to do in ten months at the next Halloween spreading through the town. Crowley let the people do his work for him in spreading the news and getting everyone excited. The crowd dispersed gradually, beings breaking off into their own groups to plan and scheme. He only had to shoo off a few stragglers. “Go on, go on. Got lots to do now. Only ten months to plan everything.” He was also exhausted and ready to fall face-first into a week-long nap.
Aziraphale laughed, bobbing up to kiss his cheek. “You wily old serpent,” he fondly murmured.
He flushed, catching Tracy giving him a knowing look. “Yeah, well, come on, you. Time to go home.” Maybe not a week-long nap, then.
“Yes, I-” Jingle bells caught his and the rest of the town's attention, everyone looking skyward to see a sleigh being guided by nine tiny reindeer. “Happy Halloween!” Santa called, booming out that deep laugh Aziraphale had found ridiculous to read, charming to actually hear.
But it was what Santa brought the town that really charmed him. He broke away from Crowley to catch a fat flake in his palm, gasping as it melted icily in his grip. Snow fell on Halloween Town, building up quickly and sending everyone into a flurry of excited confusion. The Them twisted around Crowley, figuring out snowballs quickly and the greasy trick-or-treaters figured out rocks in snowballs just as quickly.
In effect, they immediately made it their own as they'd done with everything else.
Quietly curious, Aziraphale slipped through the gate to the graveyard to see what it looked like pristine and untouched. There was some sort of marvel in it, according to the books and songs, and he understood it as he made the first crunching footsteps in the freezing white powder. The headstones popping out from the snow looked like they were being blanketed, the pumpkins in the nearby patch such a bold colour under and around the crisp white. He made his way up the hill, smiling just as brightly as the moon shone onto their realm, and no multicoloured Christmas lights were needed. It was beautiful in the Halloween way.
Crowley eventually snuck away from The Them, barely dodging errant snowballs as he skirted the edges of a five-team battleground. He brushed the freezing not-quite ice from his hair and shot a glare at the sky from which it fell. The perpetual Autumn their world existed in was chilly enough on its own. He wondered if this “Christmas magic” was some ploy on Sandy’s part to make him miserable. Well, if it was, the joke was on him. There was very little that would bring Crowley down now, and it would take more than tons of white bullshit to do it.
He’d watched Aziraphale disappear into the town, staring at the sky in wonder, and had reminded himself it was fine, Aziraphale would not go far, they were together now. He still didn’t want to be apart for long, though, so at the first chance he got, he went searching.
It was… nice, he could admit. The snow quickly blanketed everything and made all of Halloween Town’s sharp edges softer. He didn’t expect it to stay so pristine for long, it wasn’t their way, but he could appreciate the way it glittered in the moonlight.
Crowley found Aziraphale’s footprints in the cemetery, but by then he was a shivering wreck and the novel feel of it all had quite worn off. He very much wanted to bundle up at home next to a warm fire, something alcoholic to drink, and preferably a patchwork angel to snuggle with.
Spiral Hill was where Crowley found him. Standing under the moon with shards of white ice in his hair, little spots of damp where the flakes had melted on his shoulders and the back of his coat. Crowley approached from behind and wrapped his arms around Aziraphale’s middle, pressing his nose into spun curls. “What’re you doin’ all the way out here?”
“I wanted to see it all before the town wreaked its havoc.” Aziraphale turned in his hold to wind his arms around him in turn. “Oh, darling, you're freezing.”
Crowley nodded into his hair and tightened his grip, soaking up as much warmth as Aziraphale could provide. “Good thing I got you to keep me warm, eh?”
“Yes, you do. Oh!” Aziraphale couldn't get far with him clinging so tight and didn't particularly want to, but it was enough for him to reach into his pocket. In contrast to the messily wrapped gift Crowley had excitedly given him the afternoon after Halloween, this was wrapped neatly in shiny black paper and topped with a spider-shaped bow. “Here, you silly thing. I was going to give this to you before you went off, but things, ah, got rather distracted.”
“What’s that? A present?” He took it, not moving far either, and turned it over in his hands. It was small, and not nearly as lumpy as the tree-top angel had been, it gave easily when he squeezed it. “You got me a Christmas present?”
“Well, I made you one.” And he was pretty sure he understood why Crowley had been so very eager. There was an excited anticipation to this. “Open it.”
He tore into it, little pieces of black paper fluttering to the ground and a few even down the hill.When he was done, what lay in his hands was a pair of soft black gloves with red stitching. He squeezed them again, without the paper in the way. They were made of a much softer material than the suit, but felt like they would retain heat just the same. “Angel. You made me gloves.” He wasted no time in putting them on, the fit contouring to his long hands.
“Are they comfortable? I was surprised how easy it was to get the measurements.” Aziraphale took Crowley’s hands, smiling at the buttery feel under his palms. “You're a very heavy sleeper.”
“You sneaky bastard,” Crowley growled with a grin, tugging Aziraphale flush to him by the hips. “They’re perfect, and I love you.”
Aziraphale lifted up to his toes, arms looped around his neck. “I love you too, you wicked serpent.” Smiling, he pulled him into a kiss designed to keep them both nice and warm.