Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Crowley HATED Christmas. Not only was it a time of the year where people decided to be happy DESPITE the miserable weather but the catholic church had also decided to adopt it (despite all the demonic activity against it) making it a religious holiday on top of everything.

This had led to the already overexcited people praying and singing blessed songs and selling abundances of Jesus statues and religious tree ornaments and despite all the Greed that had tainted the chaotic culture of the event, all the positive energy was still strong enough to make the demon sick. Quite literally.

A group of carollers passed him by with bells, harmonicas and wide smiling faces and Crowley felt the world around him start to tilt. His hand instinctively held onto the nearest wall as he entered another coughing fit. It was as if the songs and joyous thoughts had somehow infested the air, just to make him choke.

The spinning was starting again. He would have just miracled it away, if it was as simple as a wave of dizziness after a long night of rat poison but this was different. This was holy.

Whatever powers he had had been drained out of him a long time ago, leaving him as an empty shell of a demon that was so feeble that the simple act of moving too quickly made him see stars.

He tried to calm his breathing, leaning against the wall and slowly sliding down. His breaths were much too shallow, his messy vision indicating that maybe he wasn’t getting enough air.

Enough air??

What was he thinking?! He was a demon for Satan’s sake, he didn’t even need to breathe! It was just this bloody Christmas spirit that was messing him up! He should have just stayed home… should have just slept through it all instead of going out and trying to regain control of the situation by performing random demonic miracles.

Admittedly, making all of the tea and hot chocolate ice cold had ruined a lot of people’s day but it simply wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough.

Another coughing fit shook his body. His cough was getting worse by the second. He didn’t want to breathe anymore, though that barely helped.

A strong pinch to the wrist was usually enough to motivate him to do whatever it was he was dreading but regrettably it didn’t do the trick this time, despite the fact that all he wanted to do was just get up and go home.

He tried scolding himself instead; reminding himself that he had just allowed history to get to this point, he had just let this blessed holiday happen and that he was partially to blame for it existing.

With all of his willpower, he dragged himself up and, fighting the wave of dizziness that followed, made his way back the way he came.

Moving was surprisingly difficult all of a sudden. His legs felt stiff and awkward. Sluggish, possibly due to the freezing cold. Very quickly the demon started leaned into the walls and light poles or whatever was near for support while he navigated the increasingly confusing streets.

The deep dark blue sky seemed to be melting into the tall buildings and brick streets while the bright festive lights were leaving smear marks as they danced and turned and twisted around madly. The thin blanket of snow wasn’t helping, serving only to mess with his steps and distort the colourful glow even further.

Saying it was vertigo would be generous. Saying that everything surrounding him was being mangled into a kind of inescapable Christmas HELL was much more accurate.

Just as he was beginning to doubt that his legs knew where they were going, he noticed the vague shape of a beggar shivering. He had seen the same absolutely miserable person before and had felt just as much pleasure from it.

The sorrowful aura seeped into him and like a moth to the flame, he got closer, leaning against the wall next to the delicious suffering. It helped a bit, almost supressing all of the good vibes swimming in the air. The demon sighed in relief.

“Don’t fall asleep William.” He teased.

The old man startled and looked around until his tired eyes met the demons blank and unreadable sunglasses. Who would wear sunglasses in the winter? At night?? And most importantly-

“How do you know my name??“

“I’m your fathers uncles third son.” Crowley lied, basking in the beggar’s anguish.

“I don’t even have… nevermind.”

“Drinking might help with the cold.” The demon suggested, handing the man some cash. Too much cash. Way too much. Williams face lit up.

“You can’t be serious.”

“I know you’ve missed the taste of whiskey.”

“ARE YOU KIDDING? I could stay at a hotel for weeks with this! I could fucking sleep in a good bed! I could shower! I… Thank you so much-“

But his words fell on deaf ears for the demon had already disappeared into the shadows.

Technically, he had only tempted somebody into buying a drink. It wouldn’t appear in his report to downstairs what the old bugger had ended up using all of his money on. Crowley secretly hoped that it was used on not-dying.

He knew from experience that discorporating by freezing to death was not a fun way to go, especially not on a day like this.

Slowly but surely, his sense of balance waved him goodbye once more as his only energy source disappeared off into the distance. His eyelids were starting to betray him as well, resting just a bit too long every time he blinked. He had to blink. He was just too tired not to. Too many miracles, he thought, even though he had barely performed any.

He had barely done anything today, yet he felt like gravity had increased tenfold. What a sad excuse for a demon he was. It had only been wishful thinking, the idea that if he just went outside he would magically stop being useless. He was useless. A useless serpent that should just return to its hide and never step out ever again.

It was fine. He was on his way; he could just grit his teeth and manage and then get home and sleep for a week until it was all over. Sleep. For a week. Forever. Yes.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and his entire body froze.

With a hiss, he slapped it away, turning around to see who in the world had decided to bother him on this awful day.

Oh.

Oh fuck.

“Crowley!” the angel beamed. “Oh, it’s been too long! I almost didn’t recognize you through all of that…” and he gestured at the demon’s thick layers of clothing. “…wool!”

“Not in the mood. Go away.” the serpent hissed, hoping that that would be enough to get rid of the dangerous presence. He didn’t fear Aziraphale, of course. The angel was too round and soft and friendly for him to be ever even considered a threat.

However, Crowley was feeling very fragile and all of his instincts were screaming at him to stay away from any and all angels until he was at least strong enough to stand upright.

“Why? What’s wrong dear?”

Crowley turned away and tried walking faster, as fast as his frozen legs would allow at least. He managed well, muffling most of his coughs but then another fit came and he suddenly found himself on his knees, the fit was shaking all sense of direction out of him and the waves of disorientation had him gripping at the snow for support.

The angel was by his side in a heartbeat, gently patting him on the back and stopping when his hand was swiped away once more.

“Dear?”

“Merry Christmas.” The demon grumbled, once he could speak again.

“Oh? Oh!” and Aziraphale finally understood. He looked around, seemingly only now noticing that all this merry holy energy was great and all but probably really terrible for his demonic companion. “Crowley, I could help.” He offered, unsure on how exactly he would do that.

“Help me by getting lost.” He managed before coughing his lungs out once more.

The fit left him panting, desperately gasping for air. It was pathetic. He looked up to see the angel’s blue eyes still looking down at him and scoffed. He wasn’t angry. He was furious. At himself mostly. He couldn’t believe that he let his friend… enemy… Aziraphale see him when he was in such a wretched state.

Leaning heavily against a wall, he got up again, praying and hoping that his knees wouldn’t buckle up before he could get away. He half-heartedly swiped the angels helping hand away once more and tried to keep going.

Of course, Aziraphale was an asshole and followed.

They walked together; Crowley cursing and hugging the wall and Aziraphale following and eyeing the demon with concern.

“Dear, we could get there faster if you just let me help.”

“Don’t want your help.”

The angel frowned at that. “Why not? I always let you help me when I need it.”

If he wasn’t so weak, Crowley would have laughed at that. “With miracles, maybe. And even then, you never directly ask me to help you.”

“Dear, that’s not the point.”

“This isn’t a miracle, angel.” And he stopped briefly to cough. Go-Satan, he was tired. If the angel would just leave him alone, he would drop to the ground in an instant and sleep on the thin mattress of snow until all of this was over. But, no, bad thought, that would get him killed. Stupid. Very stupid, keep going.

“It’s a miracle that you haven’t fainted yet.” The angel said. “Really, you’re putting too much pressure on yourself. There is nothing wrong with getting some help, it doesn’t make you a bad demon or anything.”

“It means admitting weakness.” Crowley hissed and instantly regretted it. He had just given Aziraphale something to scold him about, great, just what he needed.

The angel didn’t say anything.

Crowley forced himself to tilt his head and see his expression. He looked sad.

Ugh, fuck. He hated seeing Aziraphale sad.

Doesn’t matter just keep going, it’s not that far, just get home and worry about the angel later. Surely, a free lunch would earn him forgiveness for… whatever the hell he had done wrong this time. He wasn’t exactly sure. He wasn’t exactly sure on anything at the moment.

Crowley’s footstep came to a stop and for a moment, the both of them wondered why. Then his eyelids fell closed and Crowley felt himself fall briefly.

He shook his head, although that didn’t help at all. His vision was very dark and yet, despite the fact that his eyes were open. For a moment he wondered if he had been wrong in thinking that he was on the cold streets and not on some sort of ship. A ship that was going through a storm with full speed, while drunk and also it was winter.

He tried to guide his hand towards his face but tender fingers stopped him, drawing small warm circles into his palm until his vision came back.

Aziraphale.

Aziraphale was holding him.

“Crowley, dear?”

“Hm.”

“I’m going to help you now.”

It wasn’t a question. Crowley sighed and let the angel grab his side with one hand and hold his arm over the angel’s shoulder with the other. They got up a bit too fast and the demon winced, leaning into the angel for support.

“S-Sorry… too fast?”

“way too fast.”

He tried to get away and carry himself for the most part but the angel was insistent, forcing Crowley to lean into him.

They started walking again. Together. Really together. Maybe, admittedly, regrettably it was a lot easier this way. Not exactly what the demon would call pleasant; touching and angel in such a sickly state felt terrifying more than anything but it wasn’t the worst.

Mostly because his mind was too foggy to really register the unpleasantness.

“Where are we going by the way?”

“Home.”

“Crowley, dear…” the angel smiled. “I don’t have a clue where you live.”

“Good.”

“No, not good. I have to get you there, remember?”

Oh!

Oh no!

“No, no, no, no. You’re not supposed to know where I live!” the demon argued, weakly trying to get out of the angels grasp. Aziraphale only held him tighter in response.

“Relax, I wouldn’t dream of… whatever it is you think I’ll do. I couldn’t just throw away thousands of years of understanding and trust like that.”

“Understanding?”

“…well…”

“Trust??”

“You’re not making this any easier.” The angel said. “Why don’t you just tell-“

“You’re the one not making it easier. You’re always all smiles but you’re distant. You don’t… you’re not…” Crowley argued, misunderstanding Aziraphale completely. “…not like that with others. Only me. You’re only distant to me, I can’t trust you.”

Aziraphale frowned. Obviously, the demon was speaking nonsense. He was in no position to be keeping secrets, if he didn’t tell then Aziraphale would be forced to just take him to his own home and Crowley would just have to deal with that.

And yet… yet this was clearly something that had been bothering the poor dear but he had never spoken about it before.

“Surely you do trust me, otherwise you wouldn’t have bothered rescuing me as often as you did.” the angel reasoned.

“I do try to make it easier.” He said, going back to his original, misunderstood point. “‘s not my fault.”

Aziraphale considered this as he tried to gage where the demon might live. It was true that although he was a lot warmer to other people, he tried to keep his distance from Crowley. A professional distance. A I’m-scared-that-you-will-tempt-me-into-lust kind of distance.

Crowley on the other hand was much more forward and had even saved him once or twice (if he used the term saving in the vaguest possible sense). They were both supernatural entities after all and most situations they entered had easy ways out. Crowley really just saved him from injuries and maybe a lot of paperwork…

The more he thought about it the more obvious it become. Maybe the demon had been trying to get his guard down. Get him to treat him like the angel would treat any other person.

But Aziraphale was scared… scared of how far Crowley could go if given the chance.

Still… still, the demon was trying. Meanwhile he…

And he looked at the exhausted pale demon handing loosely off his shoulder.

…he had never even bothered to get to know Crowley well enough to known about his holiday-condition.

How utterly rude of him. He felt ashamed. His hand gently pulled the demon closer to himself in order to steady him and maybe wake him up a bit more, his legs were starting to drag. The yellow eyes that had always glowed with such ambition were now dull and unfocused behind the almost-fallen-off sunglasses and it just broke Aziraphale’s heart into a million-

“we’re here.” He whispered.

“Oh?” the angel looked around. “Which building?”

“not a building.” Crowley pointed at the alleyway and the angel gulped.

No way Crowley was living on the streets, right? This had to be either a joke or some way to get rid of him because Crowley was too much of a coward to give him his address, apparently.

No, actually it was just visual trickery.

One of the walls of the alleyway was in fact a secret door, placed there by some miracle, which lead to a very tiny corridor which lead to a very tiny room. It was warm and almost damp and completely filled with blankets and pillows and one dim light fixture on the low low ceiling.

It was a burrow more than anything. A snake’s hideout.

Aziraphale smiled. Cute. This is where he hid from the world. Where he rested until the cold passed. He felt almost honoured to be let in.

Crowley had passed out, his body was exhaustedly leaning into the angels, head nuzzling into his warmth. Aziraphale laid him into the cocoon of blankets and started inspecting him.

He had seen the serpent passed out before, once, but that time he had fallen asleep after a lovely night of drinking. The demon before him looked nothing like the blushing drunkenly smiling Crowley he had laid eyes upon that night.

The healthy glow of his skin was gone, leaving behind only a sickly white. His chest was rising and falling slowly but there was an audible rattle to his breath, disturbed by very regular coughing fits that made the demon curl up into a ball.

His cheekbones were also sticking out much more than usual and there were lilac bags under his eyes. Aziraphale couldn’t decide whether the bags were the result of his pale skin showing the veins underneath or if Crowley had actually ACTUALLY gone a while without sleeping.

He wished he could ask, although he knew he would probably not get any answers.

All in all, the demon could probably do with some food and water and maybe some warmth, the angel decided, caressing the cold cheek of his best friend.

Some rest too, definitely. Poor dear.

Soup would probably do him some good. Did Crowley enjoy chicken soup? Did snakes even eat chickens? He knew the way Crowley eyed the pigeons whenever they would walk past some, although… that might be because he liked to scare them away but refused to do so in the angel’s presence.

Aziraphale had seen that too; Crowley childishly chasing after the birds the second he thought he was out of the angel’s sight.

He chuckled at the thought.

Yes, chicken soup would probably help.

The demon stirred a bit and Aziraphale did his absolute best to turn his divine grace down a notch. The last thing he wanted the poor demon to see when he woke up was a heavenly glowing being. Despite his best attempt, Crowley flinched when he saw him.

A low hiss escaped him. Then after a long moment his confusion gave way to embarrassment.

“Sorry.” He said, awkwardly.

“It’s alright I forgive… er.” The angel said, blushing slightly.

Crowley looked around, taking in the sight of his well-loved hideaway. He always felt safe here but that feeling was gone now. He wasn’t scared exactly, not of the beautiful angel sitting right next to him. No, rather he felt utterly ashamed. Humiliated to have the angel here, looking down on him as he was wrapped into his random assortment of blankets.

What was even worse was that he couldn’t for the life of himself string together the memories that led them there.

He remembered feeling very anxious and trapped and cornered and going outside in order to ‘shut this whole Christmas thing down’ but things had turned out to be a lot harder than he had anticipated. He had been a lot weaker than he had anticipated.

So… when had he invited this angel home?

He squinted.

It couldn’t be. Had he… actually tempted Aziraphale? Tempted him to- no, it couldn’t be. No way. He was far too tired to even kiss and he doubted very much that he looked very kissable.

Deciding that he had no clue how any of this happened and also that it was way too tiring to try and figure it out, the demon simply moved away from the holy being and coughed into his blankets.

“I going to pop out for a bit, alright?” the angel said and Crowley realized that this meant that Aziraphale would be coming back and potentially even staying. Despite his great love for the angel, he couldn’t hide the way his expression twisted with guilt. “Oh, come now. Don’t give me that look. I’m going to bring you some food!”

“Food?”

“Yes.” Aziraphale smiled. “Is there anything you’d like?”

He hadn’t eaten in… oh, Satan, it had been so long. Conjuring up things from thin air required little power but he seemed to have lost whatever powers he had in the recent weeks. Food had become an unnecessary luxury that he just couldn’t to afford. No, he would much rather spend his miracles on at least trying to mess up this holiday.

His eyes vaguely picked up on the hand that was being waved in front of his face.

“Dear? Are you alright? You zoned out there for a minute.”

“’m fine.” He hissed, pulling a blanket up to his nose.

“Don’t go anywhere, ok?”

“I wasn’t planning to.”

“And don’t lock me out, I’m going to get you food.”

Don’t lock me out? The angel knew him too well.

Although the thought of getting some food into his system sounded absolutely delightful, what kind of demon would Crowley be to give into the Gluttony at a moment like this? No, he was too proud for that. He couldn’t even bear the thought of eating under the pitying gaze of his angel.

Lucky bastard that Azzy. There weren’t any demonic holidays that were as popular as Christmas but JUST YOU WAIT!

Aziraphale eyed him suspiciously and for a moment Crowley feared that the angel could read minds.

A gentle hand was placed on his forehead and although it felt nice and warm at first, he jerked away when the touch started to sting. A divine miracle would normally go completely unnoticed by him, but right now he was particularly sensitive to anything and everything holy and it bloody hurt.

He did his best to move away from it as much as possible, until Aziraphale had to reach all the way in order to touch him with his fingertips and Crowley felt the weakness in his bones grow even stronger as the angel did… something… to him.

He hissed in defence.

“I’m really sorry dear, I just… I can’t lose you when you’re in such a state. Consider it returning the favour. After all, I’m pretty sure you have some sort of tracking device on me too.”

A tracking device? Tracking miracle.

“Right… well, yes, since the beginning of time.”

Aziraphale looks stunned and Crowley pondered whether or not that was one of the things he was supposed to stay silent about. It was hard to tell, with the list being so long and all.

“You mean, since Eden?”

“Yeah. Liked you. Didn’t want to lose track of you.”

“Crowley…” the angel sounded very flustered but the demon wasn’t very sure. His vision had dissolved into colourful blobs that were slowly starting to all blur together.

He slumped down and let his eyes rest for a moment but the moment was ruined when another raged coughing fit tore through him. His eyes had eared up and he wiped them away before Aziraphale even had a chance to see… but he was gone.

Crowley blinked a few times until he realized that he had probably fallen asleep.

Probably.

He wasn’t exactly sure that he was well enough to even teleport like the angel had feared. Honestly… if he didn’t know any better, he would have believed that he was discorporating.

There was the ugly taste of death in his mouth and the dancing colours in front of his eyes indicated… no, no it couldn’t be. The holiday simply wasn’t enough to kill him, it was just taking its toll on him. He was just being dramatic. He was just drained. He was just… tired.

And so, he went back to sleep.

He woke up with a sharp pain.

His eyes focused and he was almost impressed when he noticed that Aziraphale had slapped him. Almost.

He hissed in response.

“I’m sorry dear, you just stopped breathing all of a sudden.” Worry was laced and woven thickly into his voice.

“Too tied. Don’t need to.”

“That might be true but…” and the angel tried to find the least offensive way of saying this. “It’s a tad scary when you stop breathing while looking like… this.”

Crowley glared but it didn’t have the intended effect when he was buried in blankets. Instead, it had the opposite effect of making the angel smile.

“I brought you soup!”

“Oh!”

It appeared to be take-out soup, though Crowley wasn’t sure whether Aziraphale had decided on this because a) a miracled soup might hurt him or b) Aziraphale didn’t exactly know what went into a soup thereby making it hard to create out of nothing.

Eh, who cares.

He opened the lid and flicked his tongue excitedly at the steam that spread throughout the burrow. It smelled brilliantly but attempting to drink it turned out to be a mistake.

“Hot!” Crowley hissed.

Aziraphale giggled and the soup miraculously complied to the demons wishes, becoming cooler. At the same time, the miracles holy energy made Crowley collapse.

“Oh dear!” and the angel patted the serpents face gently before going in for the kill with another slap.

“I’m awake, I’m- ow. I’m awake.”

“So sorry!”

“You better be.” Crowley grumbled before taking the soup and moving away from the angel, or as far as the tiny space allowed.

Aziraphale sighed in relief when the demon started gulping down the soup, unhinging his jaw slightly in order to freak him out just a bit. He seemed to be a bit more himself after he finished. His tongue flicked happily (taking in the angel’s lovely aroma of cocoa and well-loved books) and relaxed a bit more.

He was already looking much better than the curled-up mess he was before.

“Do you feel any better?”

“Yeah… I’m sorry for being such a bother.”

“Nonsense, I’m happy to help.”

“Of course you are.” Crowley sighed, at least trying to look annoyed.

“Tell me, dear, does this happen every year?”

“Well… no, not really. I overexerted myself, possibly out of overconfidence.”

It was a half-truth. He had, in fact, overdone it but he had a sneaking suspicion that the entire reason behind why he had ventured outside to ‘ruin Christmas’ was because he was, at the time, quite delirious.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Crowley.”

“Yes?” it wasn’t a lie. Why was he panicking??

“I have known you for thousands of years, yes?”

“Give or take.”

“And I have never once seen you after Christmas became really popular.”

“So?”

“So, was that a lie you just told me?”

His muscles were trembling under the tension. Why? Why was this happening? No, no, he could just recover. There was SOME truth to what he had said. He would just… but, ugh, if he told him anything closer to the truth, Aziraphale would NEVER leave.

He had already messed up enough as it was…

“It wasn’t.” he claimed. “You’re right though, I don’t usually go outside on this particular holiday. I stay in and just sleep it off, it’s relaxing.”

Ok, so that was an actual lie. Sleeping on Christmas was NOT relaxing. With his energy so low, nightmares would be abundant, constantly reminding him of his own fragility by terrorising him in his sleep.

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”

He kept eye contact; he gave Aziraphale his famous… I would… never… lie to you… look.

“Aziraphale-“ the demon began.

“Crowley-“ the angel said, simultaneously.

“Uh…”

“Go ahead.”

“No, no, you first.”

“Oh, but I insist.”

“What kind of a gentlemen would I be if-“

“Crowley.”

“Ok, fine, yeesh. I’m sorry.” He looked away awkwardly. “I’m sorry. It’s uh… it’s kind of like this every year. But sleeping does help! Kind of. Although things have been just particularly bad this time around. Just… I’m not sure, are the holidays getting more enjoyable or is it just me?”

“Oh.” The angel blushed a deep crimson red. “That’s exactly what I wanted to ask you… you see, I have been… uh… meddling in this year’s celebrations quite a bit… regrettably.”

“…oh.”

“I might have been outside disguised as a certain famous Christmas figure… granting poor children wishes and such. Poor adults too. Just a lot of empty presents that were filled by some miracle with whatever these good people needed most.”

“Huh.” He said. “I might have done something similar today.” He didn’t say.

“And if it’s really particularly bad this year then it must be absolutely my fault! God, I’m so sorry Crowley. I didn’t know… I’m sorry but I’ll make it up to you!”

“Please don’t.” the demon whined.

“I’ll take real good care of you. Once this is all over you will WISH I would meddle with holidays more often.”

“Aziraphale nooo.”

“Really dear, you’ll be feeling better in no time!”

As the demon started panicking it became more and more obvious that Aziraphale was serious. He wasn’t going to change his mind, not when there was a good deed to be done.

For Crowley; this was a nightmare. Stuck with an angel who was absolutely high on holy energy and feeling guilty about it on top of that, taking care of HIM? In this tiny and no-longer-safe hideout?

He already liked Aziraphale too much for his own good and the mere idea of the lovely creature breaking down his boundaries unsettled him. This would undoubtably end in disaster and quite possibly a ruined friendship and it would all be his fault.

He really had no choice but to get away.

For Aziraphale; this was his one chance! He had clearly not offered the poor demon enough kindness, treating him as if he were a co-worker instead of a friend. He knew the demon loved Lust but hated intimacy. So, if they were going to be friends, and Crowley seemed to really want that, then it was undoubtably his job to get the demon used to some genuine love.

Not to mention that he was now feeling strong enough to deal with whatever nasty attitude Crowley tried to use on him… and with that it was most likely his fault that the demon had ended up in such a sickly state.

He really had no choice but to stay.

The two looked at each other, with growing fear and excitement.

This would be interesting.

Chapter Text

It was the day before Christmas and somehow Crowley was feeling even worse. He hadn’t thought it to be possible, what with the other day being so absolutely dreadful and all but here he was! Yesterday he had briefly thought that he MIGHT have been dying. Today he bloody was. He was sure of it. Somehow this stupid fucking holiday was killing him.

JINGLES were killing him! What a pathetic way to go, he simply couldn’t bear it.

Another group of carollers passed by the alleyway and the demon buried his face deeper within his pillow. The wavy feeling had returned, like he was on a body of water rather than firmly on unmoving ground. He wasn’t even standing up this time for crying out loud, why was this happening?!

“Is it really that bad, dear?” the angel asked, warm wonderful fingers pressed against the demon’s forehead.

Aziraphale was keeping at a comfortable distance from him, which was slightly awkward in such a cramped space. Crowley appreciated that, despite the fact that his small room of blankets was just big enough for two, the angel hadn’t even attempted to snuggle with him, instead relaxing in the corridor that lead to the exit.

He had a book with him and although he always seemed somewhat distracted, the demon knew that Aziraphale was keeping a very careful eye on him and was always close enough to touch him.

Crowley pulled away from the blissful feeling and Aziraphale frowned. “I’m fine, just being dramatic.”

“Oh no, he’s becoming self-aware.” The angel joked and Crowley tried to glare at him, although it was harder than expected to glare at two Aziraphale’s at once.

Had there always been two? Surely. One to fuss and the other to ignore him when he wanted attention.

“Don’t worry dear, as long as you don’t go overexerting yourself again, you’ll be fine. I promise.”

The kind words of reassurance almost made the heavy rocking feeling bearable but simultaneously, it made him feel worse. Here he was believing in sweet reassurances, no, here we was NEEDING sweet reassurances.

His ailment didn’t require Aziraphale to stay by his side and whisper promises into his ear; this was disgusting.

He had to get away.

With all of his willpower he sat up, holding onto the ground tightly in order to not fall off into the ceiling.

“Crowley, what did I literally just tell you?”

He couldn’t look the angel in the eyes. Not only because it felt wrong but also because it was impossible with his current nonsensical vision. He slowly and carefully crawled his way to the corridor, which was partially blocked by Aziraphale but Crowley was vaguely sure that it had been big enough to fit two people before. This WAS possible, somehow.

The angel pressed a hand against his chest, stopping him in his tracks.

It felt like the momentum made his brain slam against the back of his skull but Crowley ignored it, closing his eyes and just focusing on speaking clearly and NOT falling over.

“I really need some fresh air…”

“No, you don’t. You’re a demon, as you keep reminding. You don’t even need to breathe.”

“You say that now but wasn’t it you who made me drink soup yesterday?”

The angel didn’t answer and for a moment Crowley was baffled by his own absolute BRILLIANCE.

“Yes, but this is different. You don’t look well at all, you shouldn’t move.”

“That’s rude.” Crowley said matter-of-factly. He dared and opened his eyes but his vision was blurry and ever changing. He couldn’t focus on anything.

A hand cupped his cheek and forced him to face something pale and pink.

“Look me in the eyes, dear.”

It would be a mistake to even try and so, the demon simply pushed the hand away and tried to blindly get past the angel. It was a very quick fight, with the Crowley getting halfway through and stumbling and the Aziraphale countering and pinning him into his bed in a matter of nanoseconds.

Or at least Crowley was pretty sure that it was the bed before things got confusing again.

The movement was so sudden that gravity had been reversed somehow and he was currently on the ceiling. It very quickly reversed and then reversed again and he let himself give into the helplessness, grabbing the angel’s wrists for support. Surely, Aziraphale hadn’t pushed him into a wall, right? Or pushed him off into a dark spinning void, or a washing machine, or-

“Please, look me in the eyes.”

The air should have been knocked out of him. He should have been coughing, more than he was already, and wheezing and gasping for air but no. Aziraphale was so ludicrously gentle that even this kind of aggression was delicate and carefully handled. It was humiliating.

“Crowley, look at me.”

He couldn’t. He simply couldn’t. But then Aziraphale cupped his face again in that lovely way that he did and the demon couldn’t help but search for those icy blue eyes. He blinked a few times and with a lot of concentration, his vision cleared; giving way to the absolute clusterfuck that was happening before him.

Aziraphale’s features distorting and melting into each other while the room around them spun feverishly.

It was… frightening.

His eyes went wide, wandered around wildly and trying desperately to find something to hold onto but failing… failing completely.

“Oh, Crowley…”

The force pushing him up/down was removed and the demon gasped at the horrifying shock of freefall for a second before he was pulled into a hug.

“Just… close your eyes. I’m right here. Focus on me, alright?”

Crowley did as he was told and remained tensely in the embrace, squeezing his eyes shut. A warm hand was on his back, holding him tightly while the other was invested in ruining his hair. There was also the wonderful sensation of Aziraphale’s breath against his neck and the rhythmic heartbeat coming from the body pressed so closely to his own.

It was…

Everything he had ever dreamed o-

It was grounding. It was grounding.

He tried to even his breathing to match Aziraphale’s but it was difficult to breath in so deeply without coughing his lungs out and so he settled on shallow but even breaths instead.

The twisting feeling faded somewhat, with the angel playing the role of an anchor on the windy seas. It was almost as if the storm had passed, leaving only the rocking sea and the bright blue sky behind. Crowley gave into it, a content sigh escaped him as he nuzzled closer to the angel. Aziraphale was so warm and soft, like some sort of big teddy bear, and when he was this close Crowley could taste the smell of his skin as well and-

Satan, was he tongue flicking again?

No, no, this was simply too blissful, something was wrong. He pondered it for a moment, unable to detect any errors in his actions. It all FELT right and wasn’t that what’s important? Probably not, seeing how he was such a poor excuse for a demo….

Oooooh…

Demons didn’t hug, did they?

Not only that but this was the exact opposite of what he had been trying to do all along; get away.

Every inch of Crowley’s body was begging him to not move, begging him to stay in this wonderful warm heaven and his heart ached at the mere idea of letting go but it simply had to be done.

It hurt and he had never been so unwilling to do the right thing before, never even thought half the harsh words he used to scold himself into submission, but he finally managed to convince himself that if this continued, Lust would win out in the end and everything would be ruined. For Aziraphale’s sake he had to get out of this situation right now.

“Azzy, I’m good. Let me go.”

“Hm?”

The angel’s hand on his hair stopped and Aziraphale moved away just far enough to be able to face him. Luckily, his eyes were staying in place this time and Crowley was able to find and focus on them.

“Are you sure?” the angel asked. “You seemed so happy. It’s alright, you know. I don’t mind.”

“I do.” He wanted to say but he had lied to the angel once already and it didn’t feel right to do it again. Instead, he settled on a “I’m gonna sleep.”

“Oh, you can sleep. Don’t worry about it.” And the angel pulled him into the embrace once more.

Crowley struggled weakly. “Can’t. Not like this.”

“Ok, fine.”

There was a hint of annoyance in his tone but that was nothing. It was maybe one fifth of how passively angry Aziraphale usually got at him during a day to day basis. Clearly not enough but Crowley wasn’t planning on meeting his usual standards today, he was just trying to get by.

The angel fully let go of him, thankfully… but then didn’t move, staying by his side on top of the blankets and relaxing.

“Aziraphale.”

“Yes, dear?”

“You cannot be serious.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

With the angel out of the way, Crowley got up once again, ignoring his bodies protests, and stumbled towards the entrance. He actually managed to get quite far, mostly due to the angel’s great surprise and confusion.

Aziraphale grabbed his ankle and the demon knew that he had lost already.

“Dear, where are you going?”

“I’m running away.”

“YES, I can tell! Why??”

“An angel is trying to sleep with me.” Crowley said dramatically lifting the back of his hand to his face. It was a mistake, of course, since he couldn’t balance himself on three limbs and crashed.

“I-I’m not!” Aziraphale huffed, clearly offended. (Two fifths annoyed at most) “I was trying to comfort you! Are you really that lust fuelled, Crowley? Are your standards really so low?”

“Low?? You’re an angel, Aziraphale. By definition you’re a being of light and beauty.”

“…since when do we go by our definitions?” Aziraphale pouted, reeling Crowley back in by the ankle. He didn’t lie next to him this time, instead just tucking the demon in and covering him in enough blankets to make getting up difficult.

Good, Crowley told himself. You’ve done good. Keep it up.

The angel gave the blankets a pat and, after he was absolutely sure that Crowley wasn’t escaping again, he said “Nice.”

“Hm?”

“Nice demon. So lovely. Cute. Adorable. Lovable.”

NOT GOOD.

Crowley groaned, trying to get up and… do… something but it was in vain. His arms had turned into limp noodles and they simply wouldn’t lift him up. He buried his face in a pillow and squeezed his ears shut.

“Such a darling, always saving his angel. Sweet. Affectionate. Funny.”

“This is NOT funny.”

“A real sweetheart, that’s what you are.”

“Angel, how would you feel if I called you wicked?!” raising his voice was dangerous but he managed to muffle the few coughs that escaped him.

“You wouldn’t because you’re a kind and good-“

“ANGEL-“ His words were cut short by a coughing fit. A long and strenuous one at that, just a tiny bit more than his body could currently handle and it left him breathless and exhausted. He coughed and panted and prayed to Go-Sa-Somebody, that the angel wouldn’t push the subject because he was just too tired to fight against it.

But, of course, Aziraphale wouldn’t do that. No, the bastard angel was too kind for that sort of thing. Instead, he soothingly stroked the blankets over Crowley’s body.

Technically, the demon told himself, the angel wasn’t petting him. He was simply fixing the folds in the cloth. There was no need to protest against this… delight… he could just allow himself to enjoy it… for once.

And as if by magic, the demon fell asleep.

Aziraphale stopped petting and curiously watched as Crowley’s chest slowly rose and fell. What a fool, exhausting himself like this when it wasn’t good for him.

Still, the more he hung around the weakened demon the more surprised Aziraphale found himself.

He had expected at least SOME unpleasantness on Crowley part. A nasty comment or hissing or maybe even biting but nothing?

Not a single hiss today…

It was as if the being before him wasn’t a demon, a creature of pure evil, at all! No, he had actually gone as far as to claim that he was being ‘dramatic’ all the while being too dizzy to even look the angel in the eyes… it was ridiculous.

And yet… yet the more he thought about it the more sense it made.

Crowley was, deep down, a very good person. A demon, certainly, but a very good demon; especially towards HIM. He was shy and angry and frail but he was trying to not worry him, trying not to ‘be a bother’, trying to get rid of Aziraphale so that he could suffer in silence like he always did.

The angel looked at Crowley’s tired expression.

How had he been so blind?

It was funny, really. The idea that he had agreed to this thinking that it would be him to show Crowley LOVE.

Chapter Text

Aziraphale nudged the demon gently. The yellow eyes slid open just a crack and the angel watched as the pupils jittered, trembling ever so slightly as they continuously failed to focus on anything.

“Dear, you’re not breathing.”

It wasn’t necessary but his hands would start shaking with the amount of effort it took to stay calm whenever it happened.

The demon stared blankly.

“Crowley, dear.” Aziraphale snapped his fingers, to get the demons attention. His heart was pounding so loudly that he was almost scared Crowley would hear it.

“hm.”

“Breathe for me.”

Crowley did, technically, but the amount of air he inhaled and exhaled was barely a tablespoon. Panic started settling in when he noticed the smug smile on the dazed demons lips.

“Really, dear?”

“Stop fussin’.”

He would have laughed but the sight before him was just a bit too melancholy to allow it. Crowley was as pale as snow; his heartbeat having dropped to approximately 2 a minute. His hands were limp and ice cold.

A corpse, really. It was rather frightening, even though the angel was confident that Crowley would make it. The aura of suffering and hatred that surrounded demons was still there, the angel could feel it so strongly amongst all of this joy. It flickered brighter whenever Aziraphale’s emotions became just a bit too much to bear. Crowley was, after all, a demon and feeding off other people’s worry and panic was what he did but it was almost hilarious in the way that it reassured Aziraphale, calming him down again just a bit.

He wondered if the demon appreciated him being here. Appreciated the small amount of energy he provided by just worrying slightly.

Stop fussing.

What a funny demon.

A pained expression crossed Crowley face as the sun outside rose, waking up everyone who hadn’t awoken already. The positive energy was bewildering, children climbing into their parents’ bed in joy and everyone getting together to start a stressful but enjoyable day.

Aziraphale gasped when he saw the demon bite into a blanket and muffle a weak cry. Immediately, he was by Crowley’s side, pulling him up into a sitting position and hugging him tightly.

The demon protested, making incoherent noises but didn’t physically struggle.

He didn’t hug back either but Aziraphale was used to that kind of intimate ineptitude by now. Crowley being a demon meant that a lot of affectionate interactions felt completely alien to him. He was supposed to stay away from stuff like that, from love technically, because… well… it was the opposite of hatred. It only made sense to stay away from it.

No, it didn’t.

None of this was making any sense AT ALL.

“Why did you even stay in London, dear? You could have gone anywhere in the world. Preferably somewhere with less celebrations.” The angel reasoned.

He would have taken Crowley away himself but with the state he was currently in, it would do him great harm. Any miracle would have that effect, at this point. It was simply too dangerous.

The demon didn’t answer, instead pressing his face into Aziraphale’s chest in an attempt to get as close as possible to both the warmth and his only energy source. A single great joke had never threatened a demon’s existence as much as it did now.

“You’re stubborn, that’s why.” the angel concluded. “You always lean towards the momentary instead of thinking long term, don’t you? Some random hole in the wall in the middle of an alleyway, loads of blankets… It probably felt nice for a while but maybe, just perhaps it wasn’t the greatest idea. You should really try and take better care of yourself.”

Aziraphale allowed himself to be angry, allowed himself to be worried, for the first time in many years. It felt a bit wrong, although the heavy feeling in his gut subsided a bit as well. Being so open with his feelings was almost sinful, one of the many pleasures he could only share with his demon.

“You’re right.”

“Oh?”

“I’ll pack an angel next time.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. He did love Crowley. Goddamnit he loved this demon so much. It was lovely, holding Crowley like this. Showing him affection and not being denied for once.

After a few hours of comfortably silent hugging, the two entered a strange state of absolute balance, a perfect push and pull of negative and positive energy. Worry and reassurance working hand in hand.

There was more to the demons aura than just pain and hatred, Aziraphale noticed. He had never really felt the desire to look too much into Crowley’s more demonic sides out of fear of finding something terribly unpleasant buried under the kindness and confidence, but now that there was nothing to do but focus on it he had uncovered a great amount of little quirks.

Very similarly to a magnet, the angels touch seemed to push all the hatred in him to the furthers possible point, which was flattering honestly. It was as if the thing that actually MADE Crowley evil almost disappeared under Aziraphale’s touch.

On the opposite side, the suffering was a lot more complex, growing and lessening at seemingly random. There was some resemblance of a pattern. The demon definitely felt bad about making him worry and relaxed a bit after the two balanced each other out once again but seemingly out of nowhere, the suffering would increase during longer periods of no change.

Like he was suddenly, well, becoming a bit self-conscious.

The angels soothing seemed to have mixed reactions as well, helping at first but making it much worse on the long run.

“Stop fussing Crowley.” the angel joked and the suffering momentarily disappeared.

“’ss hard.” He hissed silently. “made of love, aren’t you?”

Oh? Had he been focusing on the others aura as well? Aziraphale felt himself blushing, he hadn’t been paying attention to his own aura at all. Love and purity where the two things that made him, well, him. Similarly to the demon, he could feel the purity being pushed away at his touch. It wasn’t unpleasant.

Purity was overrated.

He would much rather be human than a being of pure light and Crowley seemed to make that somewhat possible. He wondered, briefly, if Crowley felt the same way. If he was glad to forget his grudges for a few blissful moments. If Aziraphale was his relief, just like Crowley was Aziraphale’s.

The angel would have brushed the thought away in an instant, like he usually did, but the possibility actually felt real this time around. And, well, it wasn’t like there was much else he could do but ponder meaningless things until Christmas was finally over. No books to distract him, or wine, or costumers, or Crowley’s pleasant or unpleasant conversation.

He missed conversations. They would definitely talk and drink until midnight, once this was all over. Oh, it would be wonderful.

He felt Crowley’s fingers dig into him.

“No offenssse but… you’re too happy.”

Aziraphale held back laughter. Oh, shoot, he had completely thrown off their balance, hadn’t he?

“I’m sorry, it’s just hard to be miserable when I’m with you, I suppose.” Aziraphale joked, except it wasn’t a joke. It was the furthest thing from a joke ever, which made it a lot funnier, in his mind.

The demon clawed at him half-heartedly, glaring? It might have been glaring or it might have been squinting, Aziraphale wasn’t sure.

The balance returned and it left Aziraphale wondering what Crowley was thinking right now.

…

…

Is this how people celebrate Christmas??

No, no, it couldn’t be, Crowley decided. He had watched a few holidays specials until the halfway point before and none of them had involved even half as much hugging as was currently going on.

It was bliss, obviously, but all of the angel’s love was slowly driving him mad. The pain was a nice distraction. He yearned for the laughter coming from upstairs, for the events outside to finally begin, for presents to finally be opened just to feel just a moments relief from the suffocating fact of how utterly different he was from Aziraphale.

He was so different. Polar opposites.

Purity and Love; what great qualities to be made out of. Meanwhile he was… despicable, unforgivable, there was a reason why God herself had kicked him out of Heaven. He had no positive qualities at all. It was driving him crazy.

Worse than that; it seemed like, although his boundaries remained somewhat intact, the angel was warming up to him.

Why?

Couldn’t he feel it? Couldn’t he tell?

There was nothing good in Crowley, inherently. Obviously. Why would an angel even EVER think that?  Why was Aziraphale even bothering to try and help HIM?

None of it made sense AT ALL.

But maybe that was alright. It was rather lovely being hugged liked this. A rare sensation to say the least, the demon wasn’t sure he had ever been so close to another person for more than twenty minutes.

He had imagined a few hours to feel basically just like that but more boring.

He had been wrong.

Whether it was his blurry mind or not was debatable but he found a lot of relief in the long embrace. Maybe it was the angel’s mere presence, maybe it was the idea that, on some level, Aziraphale saw him worthy enough to tolerate.

It was…

It was all he ever desired. Yet, everything was so close to falling apart. This would end in disaster; he just knew it. It was only a matter of time. Only a matter of time.

Chapter Text

Seconds turned into minutes turned into hours. He stopped keeping track at some point, stopped being conscious entirely. His mind was as foggy as his vision; memories blurring into each other and sounds being muffled. It all felt very much like a dream, distant and impossible.

Sometimes he would awaken in total darkness with strange joyous whispering all around him, other times he swore he awoke to the sight of pure beautiful white wings.

There was always muffled whispering, happy noises that were simply too far away to hear.

He would have come closer… but it had become rather impossible to move. His limbs felt like heavy rocks and just like rocks, they didn’t even respond to his orders.

There were small things he was still capable of; he could curl his fingers, which usually resulted in them being intertwined with others… so he tried to do that often.

Every once in a while, he weakly responded to being nudged or opened his eyes when he heard Aziraphale call his name, although that was about it since he couldn’t focus on anything or even string together coherent thoughts.

Yet, he wasn’t afraid.

It would get better; he was sure of it.

Not because he was so sure of himself but because somewhere, at some point, somebody important had promised him it would be fine.

“You know… I liked your hair better when it was long.” Aziraphale said.

It was the first complete sentence Crowley’s mind had been able to grasp in quite a while. He was almost surprised by how clear it sounded, by how easily he could understand and get offended by it!

“Poor taste.” He mumbled.

But then his vision faded once again.

When he finally came to, it was already dark outside.

Aziraphale wasn’t hugging him anymore, instead reading in his usual spot in the corridor. There were more books there, now. Crowley had no idea when the books had appeared but every time he awoke, they seemed to be getting larger in quantity.

Had he dreamed it all? The hug? The way Aziraphale’s love had radiated towards him?

It… didn’t matter.

Something was wrong.

“Angel?”

“Yes, dear?” Aziraphale looked up at him, surprised.

“What day is it?”

“Oh? Ah, um, I’m afraid it’s still the 25^th, dear. Just wait a bit longer, it will be midnight in a few more hours. Really, you should just go back to sleep, dear.”

“Hm.”

Something was terribly wrong.

“Angel?”

“Yes?”

“Could you get me some more soup?”

The angel light up and smiled oh, so wonderfully. “Of course, dear. I’ll be right back.”

Aziraphale gracefully folded his book and moved along the corridor until he was no longer in view. His aura disappeared, leaving behind a strange emptiness.

Emptiness…

Something was wrong. He couldn’t feel the pain anymore.

He was feeling FINE. FINE in the sense that; although he was wobbly, he was able to walk, although he was coughing, he was able to breathe and although he was tired, he had outsmarted an angel.

He got up and went outside.

The cold wind hit him like a punch in the stomach and it left him breathless for a few moments. A grin spread across his lips. Oh, how he had missed cruel reality!

London was looking surprisingly white, despite the pitch-black night sky.

There was a white thick fog coating the streets, making it impossible to see more than a block ahead, and the snow looked perfect and undisturbed, despite the fact that people must have been outside that day.

He could still hear distant chatter but there was absolutely nobody around. Maybe they were beyond the fog. Maybe Aziraphale was beyond the fog.

God, what was he doing?

He aimlessly strolled towards the sound, unsure of what exactly he was trying to accomplish. His legs carried him far, much further than they should have been able to. Still Christmas. How was it still Christmas.

The undisturbed snow, him being fine, nobody around…

A person appeared on the horizon and the demons mind went blank.

They soundlessly walked around Crowley, briefly making eye contact and smiling. The demon turned around but they disappeared into the mist in an instant, ferociously fast yet completely silent.

Crowley had never seen this strange albino girl in his life. She was dressed in complete white with gold, glowing, pupil-less eyes and pale skin.

Why had she smiled at him?

Probably his eyes.

They were uncovered, he noticed, his sunglasses nowhere to be found. It was rare finding other people who had similarly unlikable eyes and he completely understood her. If he hadn’t been distracted by the mere strangeness of things, he might have even smiled back.

But then- more people started appearing.

All wearing white.

All with gold unblinking eyes.

All smiling.

So, that’s why he was feeling fine. Christmas had been ruined. Something… something terrible had happened… though he didn’t quite understand what. Although, the pupilless eyes were probably a dead giveaway; Hell.

Crowley slowly understood why he had come outside.

He was inexplicable DETERMINED to stop this, this instant.

He started walking again, now a tad self-conscious. He was such an awful demon. Wasn’t this exactly what he had wanted?? Christmas had been ruined! It was OVER. DONE.

Somebody downstairs had made the correct decision of removing it from the calendar because it was bad for demonic business, yet here he was; attempting to screw himself and every other fallen angel over! Hadn’t they all suffered enough? Hadn’t HE suffered enough?

But that wasn’t the point.

Aziraphale had dressed up as Santa. He smiled at the thought.

He had never spent Christmas with Anyone before. Despite how painful it had been… the idea of spending another Christmas with Aziraphale made his heart skip a beat. Or two. Or maybe it just straight up stopped at the thought.

There was a part of him that longed to be included in the event. It was wishful thinking, obviously, the idea that he could be a part of something bigger than him without ruining it. He liked ruining things… but still, he would have liked to see Aziraphale celebrate Christmas.

Actually celebrate it, doing good deeds and dressing up in funny clothes and enjoying the hot cocoa being sold at every corner.

He didn’t exactly know anything about celebrations or understand it in the slightest but if the wholesome aura that surrounded the event was anything to go by then it must feel magical. There was no doubt in his mind that it brought Aziraphale and countless others joy and frankly that was enough reason for him to act.

No need to overthink it, really.

Something strange happened.

No, his heart hadn’t grown three sizes but rather something actually strange happened. The streets weren’t progressing. They were disappearing. Crowley moved around to be sure but found nothing to hold onto, nothing to see.

What in the world had Hell done this time?!

He started running; north, west, south, east, it didn’t matter at all. It was all the same. He would have spread out his wings and tried flying up but the fog was closing in on him and he was slowly starting to feel… slightly frightened.

The whispering was louder now. People he couldn’t see were talking about things he couldn’t understand. Occasionally, they would come out of nowhere and breeze past him or walk towards and then around him.

They weren’t distracted by their cell phones or by the shaking, hyperventilating demon or even by the WHITE WALLS CLOSING IN AROUND THEM. No, they were looking straight at him and smiling.

“Ok!” he said, to nobody in particular. “What is happen- Ma’m! Do you know what’s happening?”

The lady with the short white hair, white hat and yellow eyes stared and smiled. “It’s over.”

“It’s over? What is over?”

But she disappeared and the whispering got louder.

“I heard it’s over.”

“I can’t believe it!”

“What happened?”

“The arrangement is over?”

What??

Crowley stopped and listened closely.

“All alone now.”

“He messed up!”

“It was inevitable.”

“He laughed at him.”

“It really was funny!”

The fog completely surrounded him now, engulfing him in blinding white light. He ran, flailing around but there was nothing beyond the fog. There was only snow and fog and the occasional feeling of somebody briefly passing him by.

When he concentrated, which was becoming more and more difficult, he could make pairs of yellow eyes out in the distance. Hundreds of pairs. Thousands.

He wasn’t alone here.

One of the bright-eyed creatures brushed against his leg and he was briefly distracted by the sound of bones breaking.

He looked down awkwardly to where his left foot used to be.

It was gone now, replaced by a limp, dangling, mangled copy. His blood ran cold.

The whispering was growing louder.

“Serves him right.”

“It’s over.”

“Should have never gotten attached.”

“All alone now.”

“Until the end of time.”

Someone bumped into him and the sheer force of it knocked him off his foot and sent him face first into the ground. His vision flashed RED and he tasted blood and filth. He might have swallowed a couple hundred feet of snow and concrete but he wasn’t sure if his jaw was actually still attached to him or not.

His limbs were heavy again, although they were still responding. He tried to move his arms to try and push himself up but he felt his hand dangling and decided against moving.

The pain had returned now… and so had the uneasy feeling in his lungs. He coughed in order to clear it but it just turned into a fit. It was bearable at first but it got worse, much worse. Every gasp ended in more coughing and heaving. He was choking out air that he hadn’t inhaled, chocking out water that he hadn’t swallowed.

Except it wasn’t water.

It was black, harshly contrasting with everything else.

A few of the figures had gathered around him, their illuminating eyes all pointed at him accusingly. Like he was on a stage, with all the spotlights turned towards him, expect he hadn’t practiced and he was also probably dying. It couldn’t be, was he actually dying?

His heart was beating its way out of his chest, each beat making his vision jolt slightly. He tried to even his breathing, to calm it down but then he noticed that he wasn’t breathing. His heart stopped and his vision went dark.

“Crowley, I hate you!”

Seemingly, out of sheer horror of those words actually being true, Crowley’s heart started beating once again.

His eyes flew open, startled, terrified. The fog was still there, still all consuming, still suffocating but he wasn’t alone anymore, or at least alone in the sense that mattered.

Closer than any of the unfeeling yellow dots were two icy blue eyes that the demon loved very dearly.

“Aziraphale.”

“Why did you do this??” the angel cried.

He was crying.

Crowley startled, his fingers instinctively holding onto the angel, forming a weak connection between him and whatever plane of existence Aziraphale was currently in.

“I leave you alone for ten minutes and you just stroll out, without your sunglasses and you almost got yourself killed Crowley!”

He was being held, he noticed. Aziraphale had his arm around him, holding him up with his other hand was busying itself with fighting the onslaught of tears. Crowley took it, giving it the strongest reassuring squeeze he could manage, and letting the tears drop onto his face.

He had never, in all of history, seen an angel cry before.

Words failed in describing how much it hurt.

And yet, yet, ironically, his vision cleared. The fog melting away as his energy was ever so slightly restored by the angel’s agony.

“Aziraphale, I’m fine.” He tried but it sounded all wrong. Still, the angel seemed to calm down a bit and that was all that mattered. “I thought… I thought something terrible had happened. Well, I suppose it did.” He said, as he slowly miracled his face back together.

“You… you’re delirious. No, you’re stupid, that’s what you are.”

“Probably. They ruined Christmas, didn’t they. I couldn’t just let that happen, you’d be devastated!” he tried to smile but the tear in his neck just made his muscles twitch uncontrollably. He miracled it away quickly. “I wanted to fix it but you know me, I’m utterly incompetent.”

Aziraphale stopped crying. “Fix it?? Crowley, what are you talking about?”

He wasn’t entirely sure.

He coughed weakly and was surprised to feel the angel hugging him tighter in response.

The crowd that had gathered around them looked a lot more normal now. Their eyes only slightly bizarre, due to the way they were twisted in horror. There were still golden eyes among them but now they belonged to… cars. And suddenly it made a lot more sense.

The crowds shock faded, as they all inexplicably decided that they had seen nothing and that there was nothing to see here.

When the last one of them left, Aziraphale’s wings unfurled, folding around the demon and soaking in all of the blackness that had tainted the ground.

“I lied.” He said, his voice was trembling. “Christmas was yesterday. I lied… I… I just wanted you to stay. I know you Crowley, you’re a jerk and you would leave the microsecond you were well enough to walk so I lied. And… and yet!”

The angel curled his arms and wings around Crowley protectively.

It physically hurt, seeing those beautiful white blobs of fluff slumped and dirty from the street dirt and blood and shaking with each and every one of the angel’s sobs.

After hitting rock bottom, the mere presence of one single sorrowful soul left him feeling lightheaded. It was like finding an oasis in the middle of the desert. No wonder he had hallucinated, the high of misery had hit him full force.

“I lied and it resulted in you getting hit by a fucking car.”

“Language.” The demon said, for some odd reason.

“Twice.” The angel countered.

“Well, I’m fine now.” Crowley tried.

“YOUR FACE WAS-“

“Shhhhhh…” the demon said, putting his no longer dangling hand over Aziraphales mouth. “I know.”

“a-and your head was scraped and bloody and-“

“And short hair, I know, I’ll grow it out just for you.”

“and it’s all my fault…”

“Naaaah.” Crowley said, unable to find a better argument.

His ineptitude worked like a charm.

A long moment passed as the two relaxed, melting into each other in relief. There was that balance again, reassuring the demon that it wasn’t a dream. The love was so strong now that it was almost overwhelming. But it wasn’t like before, it was fidgeting and jittering and fighting to get closer to him.

“You worry too much.” The demon pointed out. A car crash would have gotten him discorporated but not entirely killed, benefits of being an occult creature and all of that.

“Of course, I worry!” Aziraphale hissed. “I’m always worrying that Hell will hear about your little rescues, you know. Always doing stupid nonsense for what? Me.”

There was a pause, long enough to frighten the demon.

“I’m always stunned when you just… keep hanging out with me despite the danger.” Aziraphale continued, more softly this time. “It’s stupidity, it really is. You’re always ALWAYS such an irresponsible, uncaring, absolute moron with just no common sense at all and yet every time I have a legitimate reason to get mad at you and I can’t because apparently, SOMEHOW you did it for my sake too! Crowley, dear, do you really love me so much?”

Chapter Text

The demons silence was deafening but simultaneously spoke volumes.

Cars passed by occasionally at a safe distance, lighting up the angel’s face. He didn’t look mad at all. Didn’t look disgusted or sad and he certainly didn’t look like he would grieve over their now ruined friendship.

Instead, a sympathetic smile blossomed on his lips and a soft chuckle escaped him.

“I love you too.” He said, to Crowley’s absolute horror.

There was a beat and then the angel picked him up nonchalantly, drawing a surprised squeak out of the confused and startled demon. The wings disappeared but his smile didn’t.

“Let’s go home.”

Crowley stared.

He had no idea where home was supposed to be but Aziraphale carried him with such confidence that wherever it was, it MUST be home.

The demon would have protested about being carried bridal style, now that he wasn’t even really injured anymore but the even steps were shaking his body in a way that reminded him of how exhausted he really was.

His leg still ached where it had been torn off as it dangled limply over the angers arm. Crowley doubted that he could even move it right now. Everything else felt as heavy as lead, begging him for some rest. Being pressed against Aziraphale’s warm form so tightly that he could hear his heartbeat wasn’t helping. Dear god, it was pleasant though.

His mind was utterly clueless as to what had just happened. It didn’t make sense at all. There was so much he wanted to ask Aziraphale, mainly what the hell the angel had been smoking and if Crowley could have some too.

But for now, he closed his eyes and let the feeling of safety lull him to sleep.

The demon remained silent, even after he woke up a few hours later in the floor above Aziraphale’s bookshop. He had never been there before but the smell of old books and warm drinks was simply unmistakable. Crowley rolled to his side, looking around, but he was alone in the room.

He pulled up the blankets he was wrapped in up to his face in order to replicate the feeling of protection the angel had given him but to no avail.

On closer inspection, there was a glass of water on the bedside table to his left. He took it.

Aziraphale…

His aura shifted when memories started flooding in, the delirious high he had experienced after Christmas was finally over and the regular amount of misery finally returned to the city, the car crash, the strangest fucking confession that Crowley had EVER heard…

No doubt the shift would alert the angel to the fact that he was awake but Crowley had bigger things to worry about.

Why in the world had Aziraphale said that?

He put away the empty glass and sat up sat up, pulling the blanket up with him and wearing it like a hood for comfort, as he pondered some more on the feelings that had been bubbling and brewing in his chest for oh so long.

‘I love you too.’

It was bloody unmistakable; it couldn’t have meant anything but THAT. However, THAT was so absurdly illogical to Crowley.

Wasn’t he utterly unlikable?? Nobody actually LIKED Crowley! Not even PLANTS liked Crowley, not even demons liked Crowley, not even the doors that swung open out of fear of being burned by his hands fucking LIKED Crowley.

The only reason anybody ever tolerated him was because he was a great liar with a confident persona, that was it. Had the angel not seen through that? Had he not realized that he was…

He… was… well, the one creature who had managed to make Aziraphale cry, that described him pretty well.

The lowest of low, in the worst possible sense.

He should be put in an art museum and displayed as the ‘rot that kept on rotting since the beginning of time’ or maybe the ‘world’s biggest failure’ if they desired something flashy. It would sell, probably, and then he’s be worth SOMETHING.

He had spent thousands of years choking on his emotions because they were simply misguided and plain wrong. A demon falling in love with an angel? Ridiculous. Unheard of! What kind of a maniac would think, actually imagine, that there was even a CHANCE of someone so pure and perfect as Aziraphale ever loving his wicked and broken self back?

And yet! Yet!

“Dearest?”

Crowley stared up at the angel with glassy eyes. He probably looked quite pathetic, wrapped up in blankets and shivering despite it, not because he was cold but because his mind was malfunctioning in some weird crazy way.

“I love you.” The demon said and it just proved that he had, in fact, gone crazy.

Again, Aziraphale giggled. Like this was some sort of joke. Well, Crowley supposed that 6000 years was a pretty long build-up for three very disappointing words, in many ways it was absolutely hilarious. “Are you feeling any better?”

The angel sat down on the bed and edged closer to him, careful as to not frighten him. As if he was some sort of startled animal. Or roadkill. He was roadkill.

“No?” he responded. “Have I gone mad?”

“Why would you think that?”

Soft fingers pulled the blanket off his head and brushed against his cheek. Impossibly kind. Crowley couldn’t not lean into the touch slightly. The angel noticed; he also noticed the way hate had been building up in Crowley. It, as always, ran away and hid when the angel got closer but it was still there and if it was not directed at Aziraphale then what was it…

“Are you hungry?” the angel tried.

Crowley said nothing and looked away. Should he leave?

“I still have that soup you wanted me to get.” The angel said, helpfully. “It would only be fair if you actually drank it… instead of running away again.”

Crowley blushed and turned away even further. If it was possible for him to just disappear, he would have.

“It’s alright. Come downstairs and I’ll make you some tea as well.”

As some sort of reassuring gesture, Aziraphale gave his head exactly two pats before he left.

What.

What?

With his mind blank and his stomach aching with some sort of nauseating emotional cocktail, Crowley fought off the blanket and came downstairs.

The angel was busy reheating the soup by placing its takeout container on the kitchen hot plate. The container seemed to share the demon’s adoration of the angel because it just grit its teeth and endured the nonsensical agony it was being put through, without burning.

Crowley offered it an empathetic smile before going to the backroom and placing himself on the sofa there. It felt unusually large for his slim form, mostly because he wasn’t sitting like a thirteen-year-old who had been gifted a pony for Christmas and also that pony was still in the living room, eating the carpet and being fucking glorious.

Crowley wasn’t really feeling that though.

Instead he settled on something more in the lines of a thirteen-year-old who had gotten a pony but the pony had somehow confessed his love for him and now he wasn’t sure about reality anymore.

Aziraphale brought him the whimpering soup and gave him some tea. He settled on the armchair and faced the demon, sipping his own tea and gesturing at the demon to do the same.

Crowley obliged.

The tea was delightful, as always. Aziraphale being a creature of love meant that he exceeded in everything that required love, for example cooking. That didn’t mean that he knew how to cook, AT ALL. But it meant that whenever he did prepare something to eat or drink, it tasted like a kiss.

Or, at least that’s what it tasted like to Crowley.

He finished the tea and started working on his soup. He was determined to actually use a spoon this time, instead of abusing his jaws unhinge-ability and gulping it all down in one long go.

“Are you sure?” he asked, after he swallowed the first piece of chicken.

“About what, dear?“

Crowley did look a bit less terrible now, the angel decided, but maybe that was just his mind playing tricks on him, since just a few hours ago the poor dear was literally in pieces.

“Are you sure you love me?” There was an unintentional comedic edge to his words that made him sound more like he was discussing Aziraphale’s preference in ice cream rather than reaffirming that his feelings were, in fact, mutual.

“Um, yes?”

“Really??”

“Dear, is it that hard to believe?”

Crowley made a few vague hand gestures, motioning at himself with a displeased expression and at Aziraphale with a more adoring one.

“I suck!” He concluded.

“You do not suck, my dear.”

“But, like, that’s objectively wrong…!” He said, rather desperately.

“6000 years of experience says otherwise.” The angel argued.

Crowley was being ridiculous, he thought. There had been something wrong with his aura before and it seemed to be as he feared, the hatred was internal.

“Oh, you didn’t spend every moment of it with me.” the demon hissed defensively, trying to protect his shattered negative world view.

“I wish I had.” Aziraphale said and that made Crowley shut up momentarily.

He looked so utterly confused.

After a long back and forth, during which the angel would interrupt Crowley’s dramatic monologs every now and again in order to get him to eat more, Aziraphale finally understood.

If the thousands of years of pining was an oddly timed punchline to Aziraphale then it was a carefully constructed murder mystery to Crowley. He had spent forever trying to figure things out and theorising about how plot-treads would proceed but now the rug was pulled from under him and the killer was actually the dogs second cousin instead of the maid.

And it all came down to the one fact that he had based everything around; he was a demon and therefor unlovable. And a bad demon at that, in the worst way. Utterly inadequate, nothing like his perfect counterpart…

Yeah, all of that.

“Am I wrong?” the demon asked.

It was an honest question and it made Aziraphale’s heart ache.

“Of course, you are.”

“Oh.”

Aziraphale was the smartest person he knew, the angel had to be onto SOMETHING, right? Was he seeing something that Crowley was missing?

“Are you sur-“

“Yes dear, I’m absolutely sure.” Aziraphale said. There was a strange expression on his face, something along the lines of curious worry. Worry. Always so worried.

Because he likes you, idiot.

All this time, always so worried... Could it really be?

“Yeah, but are you absolutely-“

“Dear God, Crowley! Yes!”

“But why??” the demon whined.

“I don’t know!” The angel huffed defensively. “You care. A lot. About me, I mean. You do things that nobody else would do for me. What was it you said? If you lined up everyone in the world you wouldn’t find a single person?” He smiled earnestly. “Yes, not a single person who would do so much for me, wait so long, treat me so lovely. It’s like that.”

Crowley scratched his head. “I was hoping that you wouldn’t notice. I try to be off-hand about it.”

“Crowley for heaven’s sake…”

“I’m not very good at subtlety either. Are you sure-“

“I love you!”

“But Why?! Because I have been creepily obsessing over you??“

“Crowley!”

“It’s true!” The demon argued.

“It’s not!” The angel fired back.

“Oh, bullshit. What could I ever do that could compare to ethereal kindness.”

“Dear, what have I ever given you beyond ethereal kindness?”

He shrugged, hopelessly. “Not a lot. It’s your one flaw. Who cares, not like I deserve anything more.”

“Dearest.”

“I still can’t believe you think I’m KIND. Four letter words, ugh, hate them.”

“Wonderful, then.”

“Dreadful, more like.”

“Humble.”

“Nonsense.”

“Lovable.”

“Ugh, not again...“

“Funny, sweet, patient, merry...”

Crowley started counting the last words letters with his fingers when his math was abruptly interrupted by a kiss.

It was a very poor excuse of a kiss, no tongue at all and their noses bumped into each other as well.

It was dreadful and yet it was the best kiss he had ever had in his entire lifetime. It made his heart race and his cheeks flush in an instant.

“Aren’t you a demon, Crowley?” the angel teased. “Tempt me.”

The tables had been turned on him so hard that the drink coasters were on the ceiling.

Tempting.

Yeah, he was actually pretty good at that.

Gently, he placed his hand on Aziraphale’s knee and leaned forward in order to close the distance between them. The angel met him halfway and, uh, what distance? The demon was in his lap in an instant, running his fingers through the blond hair and pulling the other deeper into the kiss with the clinginess of someone who had been denying themselves absolutely everything for all of their life.

Aziraphale was lost in pleasure. He had never kissed before, well, he had been kissed before but it had been absolutely nothing like this. The demon’s tongue was doing things that did not seem biologically plausible and it absolutely took his breath away.

“How far can I go?” Crowley asked, when they finally resurfaced.

Aziraphale stared, dazed from the sudden burst of emotion. He offered a simple “Hm?”

“Not very far, that’s alright.” He laughed and pulled the other closer again.

To say that their auras were balancing each other would be a lie. Rather, they were harmonising; mixing and mashing into each other and blurring the lines of who was who. Love was everywhere and there didn’t seem to be anything else in sight. Had Crowley turned into an angel?

It certainly felt like it, Aziraphale couldn’t sense an ounce of negative energy radiating off of him. It felt… heavenly.

It felt right. They pulled away and laughed, untangling the wings that neither of them remembered unfurling.

“I can’t believe this is actually happening.” Crowley said, breathlessly.

“That was brilliant, I can’t believe you waited so long to do this to me.”

“Oh, why do I have to do everything?” the demon whined and was promptly silenced with another kiss.

“I’ll make it up to you.” The angel said.

The voluminous white feather brushed against his own and Crowley didn’t even bother reacting when Aziraphale got up in order to better pin him down into the armchair. It was way too bloody small for the two of them but that didn’t seem to matter. Nothing seemed to really matter other than maybe the fact that, yeah, maybe this was worth the wait.

He would have never expected the angel to actually take the lead for once. Never before had anyone dared to look into his golden, predatory eyes and think ‘yes, I will sit on top of this creature’ and yet here he was!

He felt the lines between them blur even further. Who was the demon here again? Definitely not him, he was too sweet and lovable or whatever to ever even think of pull at the angels’ clothes like this!

There was little doubt in his mind that if things continued like this, one day Aziraphale would actually know what the hell he was doing. But for now, they would just have to be open and understanding towards one another.

“Angel, I cannot breathe.” he laughed.

Chapter Text

It had been two days since their first kiss and Aziraphale was starting to notice just how attached he had gotten.

Crowley had only been gone for a few hours, to water his plants, and already he was worrying. There weren’t exactly many things that could hurt a demon, sure, but what if he was sulking again? He wasn’t quite used to being loved… at all, and although Aziraphale had no problems with giving the dear some space he couldn’t quite tolerate the thought of Crowley hiding in a corner, trying desperately to wrap his head around why anyone would ever love him.

A knock on the door interrupted his fussing.

“We’re closed.” He said to the dark cloaked figure. 

Another knock.

“Yes, it’s a Friday, I know. We’re still closed.”

Repeated knocking.

Aziraphale rolled his eyes and got up from his armchair and put away the book that he was pretending to be reading.

He didn’t like customers and he liked stubborn costumers even less, however his angelic duties required him to be kind to everyone and so he would kindly tell the person off and go back to trying to read as soon as possible.

What a strange man it was, who had visited him today... They were wearing a large black hooded cloak, and once Aziraphale opened the door, the bright red high heels poking out from under the cloak caught his eye. If the angel had to guess, he would have assumed that they were some sort of Hollywood spy on their day off.

He had prepared a very reasonable speech in his head, something to permanently shoo the stranger away but he hesitated when he noticed the demonic presence.

The cloak opened slightly, revealing weapons of mass destruction and taking the angels breath away; 

smooth, long, bare legs glistened with an inhuman, almost scaly shine. Following them up Aziraphale noticed the red dress that oh so very nearly revealed everything Crowley had to offer. The hood was removed and the demon showed off the ridiculous hat.

“Oh, for Heaven’s sake Crowley!” The angel laughed. “What did you slither into this time?”

The demon dropped the cloak and sauntered into the bookshop wearing nothing but a sexy Santa getup. The outfit was meant for women, as most clothing’s were. However, by some demonic trickery he looked gorgeous in it, as he did in most things.

“Got to drive your purity away somehow.” Crowley joked, twirling around and showing off.

“We cannot go to the Ritz with you dressed like that.”

“I was thinking something a bit more private this time.”

Crowley got closer and Aziraphale unfurled his wings in order to fully hide how crimson red he was blushing.

“Crowleeey...!” He whined. This was so unfair; he hadn’t prepared at all!

“Oh, nothing like that, you big pervert.” The demon countered. “I meant something more along the lines of... just... celebrating?”

Aziraphale peeked out from behind his wings. “Christmas?”

“Yes. Couldn’t really celebrate it last time or... well, ever if I’m being honest.” He shrugged. “And with the two of us now finally... together, well, I thought a celebration was in order.”

“Oh, my dear boy.” The angel beamed. “That’s so sweet.”

“Sweet? Nonsense, ‘m not doing this for you!” He huffed.

“Really?”

“No, what gave you that idea?”

“The outfit?”

“It was the only thing I could find.” Crowley said, like a liar.

“Oh?”

“I’m not just going to wear an oversized sweater.”

“Extremely logical.”

“This is much more comfortable.”

“Yes, of course.”

“And warm.”

“Oh, dear you must have been freezing like that-“

“WARM.”

“Yes, right, obviously.”

When the demon was sufficiently satisfied that Aziraphale had seen through his bluff, he started to unpack the tiny purse he was carrying.

How he had fit two wine bottles in it, Aziraphale had no idea. He assumed a miracle, once Crowley pulled out a thermos as well.

“I can’t cook-“ He explained. “without making it in some way poisonous. NOT lack of talent, just lack of...” and he snapped his fingers, trying to think of the right word. “...that one secret ingredient.”

“Love?”

“And here I thought it was a secret.” He huffed, with a fake irritation.

“I doubt that you lack that.” Aziraphale said, pulling the distracted demon closer by the waist. There was, he noticed, a bit of hatred whirling around in the demon’s chest. Not directed at the angel, never directed at the angel, but most likely either a result of the sheer absurdity of a demon celebrating Christmas or the result of him still not quite understanding the angel’s affection for him.

Still, he leaned into the touch and pulled Aziraphale closer.

“It’s in my nature.” The demon shrugged before pulling away in order to unscrew the top of the thermos, letting a heavenly scent fill the air. “But hot chocolate is just so inherently good that it defies the laws of nature.”

If the smell was anything to go by then it probably contained actual chocolate. Gourmet handmade stuff… and if Crowley had made it himself, dear god, he would know the exact calorie count, Aziraphale noticed.

“It does smell delicious.” The angel confessed.

“Oh, it no doubt is.”

“Dear?”

“Yeah?” Crowley grinned widely.

“Dear, are you going to tease me mercilessly?” The angel asked, sweating bullets. There was simply no way one could resist the heavenly goodness of cocoa! Yet, the awful pain of the teasing would damper one’s enjoyment quite heavily...

“Naaaaah.”

“Bless your soul.” He sighed.

“Ow.”

The cocoa was gorgeous, leaving the taste of melted chocolate in the angel’s mouth with just a hint of vanilla. Crowley did not lack talent, at least when it came to this.

Aziraphale eyed the demon. His high heels were polish to a ludicrous degree, to the point where the angel could see his own reflection in it, his legs shared a similar shine. Saying that the skirt was high would be like saying that Santa only tangled one leg down the chimney before getting off the roof and politely knocking on the door in order to be let in.

It must be some demonic miracle, the angel thought, that the dress didn’t show anything more than leg.

The angel couldn’t quite muster up to courage to look Crowley in the eyes after checking him out so thoroughly but once he did, he was not disappointed. It was so wonderful seeing those golden eyes uncovered for once. The Santa hat dangled loosely off his hair and every now and again the demon would play with the white pom-pom in a quite adorable way.

“Did it take a lot of effort to look this stunning, dear?”

The demon blushed. “What? Nooo. It’s easy when you look like me, you know?”

“That’s a very good point.” And the demon blushed further.

“I just wanted to do something nice for you, for once.”

“Something nice?” the angel teased.

“Aziraphale, no.”

“You are nice.” He mused.

Crowley smiled a bit too widely and looked just a little infuriated as he pressed his nails against the sofa he was sitting on. They were both sitting on the sofa, as of late. It was originally specifically designed to be able to contain a single very dramatic demon but the two figured out quickly that when the demon was topped, he turned a bit more humble, allowing the sofa to fit two.

There was a brief attempt to fill the air with Christmas carols which the angel quickly decided was probably not a good idea and so the music basically stopped as soon as it began, drawing a giggle out of Crowley. 

“This isn’t really working is it?” the demon asked.

“If you had just told me you wanted something special, I could have bought you gifts.”

“Oh! Gifts! Right!” Crowley looked a bit flustered. “I forgot to… well, I mean I did bring wine but I should have wrapped it, I suppose.”

“Oh, but you did wrap it!” the angel said, inching closer. “I can’t wait to unpack later.”

Aziraphale’s smile was so absolutely innocent that the demon could barely contain his laughter at what he was suggesting. Bless the angel, so pure in every situation.

“I could strip for you.”

“Really?”

“Anything to tempt my angel.”

“I think I would really enjoy that.”

The demon laughed at that and despite his confusion Aziraphale joined in. He stopped abruptly though when he noticed that Crowley’s laughter was sounding a lot more like sobs than anything.

“I don’t think I’m ready for sex.” The demon said and Aziraphale almost couldn’t believe his ears.

Hadn’t Crowley waited 6000 years for this? Oh, but he had waited 6000 years for this…

“Are you nervous?” the angel tried. It seemed to cheer the demon up quite a bit.

“HA! Nervous! A demon nervous about sex?” he went quiet. “yes.”

“I’m not just going to walk away if things get awkward, you know. Surely, you understand by now that I’m here for you and not just hot spicy sex.”

“Hot spicy sex. Wow, say that again angel.” Crowley joked.

“No, I mean it. Dear, I love you for you. No need to rush anything.”

Aziraphale cupped Crowley’s face in his hands, forcing the demon to look at him. What a sight the angel was, with those pink puffy cheeks and that bright smile… but Crowley wasn’t exactly sure that he deserved any of this.

Everything was… well, it was happening so fast.

“You’re too good for me.” he mumbled.

“Crowley, nobody would dress up like that and stroll into my bookshop just to impress me.” der lord, that smile was stunning. “You are the one who is too good.”

“Eh. Good point.”

And with that said, their words turned into kisses; conversations happening in silent bliss. Even though the both of them weren’t aware of it yet, this was the day that a new tradition started. A festive event celebrated by two. Aziraphale called it the late Christmas, Crowley called it Love.