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Aziraphale likes candles. He likes the soft wavering flame they hold, they way they dance and cast shadows. He likes the the drips of wax, spilling over the edge and down the side, hardening as they cool only to be melted again as the wick burns away and the flame sinks lower. He likes the variety of smells that waft from them. You can find candles in nearly every scent it seems, but the spiced apple is his favorite.
Crowley had no leanings one way or the other about candles before That Day. Now he is decidedly not a fan of them. He didn’t say anything about it for a while. Just pushed the candles away from the edges of tables and towards the center. Just moved books and papers around a smidge so there was more free space around the offending object. He didn’t say anything about it until Aziraphale asked him - because of course the angel had noticed his strange behavior, his edginess and paranoia when there was a live flame in the room.
The demon took a deep breath and shuffled his feet. He glanced at the candle, its flame almost still save for a little wobble. “They make me nervous,” he admits. “I know there won’t be a fire like that again, that it only got so big because you were gone-” He chokes on the word a little and sucks in another breath as Aziraphale moves close and wraps his arms around him.
“I’ll get rid of them,” the angel assures, but Crowley shakes his head.
“No, you don’t have to. You like them. Sometimes I even like them when they smell good and the lighting kind of sets a mood and...” He blushes and clears his throat. “Don’t get rid of them. I’ll work it out. I know you’re safe now.”
Aziraphale presses a kiss to his cheek and moves to blow the candle out. “I don’t want any around that make you nervous.”
Crowley frowns and shakes his head. “It’s fine, really. Don’t get rid of them. You should be able to have things around that you like.”
“Dearest,” Aziraphale begins, moving close again and gently taking Crowley’s hands. “I like having you around the most.” At Crowley’s unconvinced expression, Aziraphale only smiles. “We’ll go shopping tomorrow, hm? Find some small candles that you like the smell of. Maybe that will help?”
“A-alright…”
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“This one?”
Crowley leans in, takes a sniff, and makes a face. “You’re kidding I hope.”
“It’s similar to the other one you liked!”
“No, not even close.” Crowley picks up another candle and holds it close to his face. “Oh, this one is nice. It smells like you.” Aziraphale catches his eye, an amused look on his face and Crowley quickly tacks on, “Would like it. It smells like you would like it, is what I meant. Of course. Here.” He holds it up.
“Is this really what I smell like to you?” Aziraphale turns the candle to peer at the label. “Like sugar cookies?”
“Sssshut up,” Crowley whines, setting it into their basket.
In the end they purchase a collection of tealight and votive candles with scents such as cinnamon apple, and sugar cookie, and clean linen, and strawberry rose, and midnight breeze (which Crowley refuses to admit he likes largely just because the wax is black).
Eventually, Crowley grows comfortable with having a candle or two burning near them. He’ll even light them himself, providing a little soft lighting while they dine together or cuddle up on the sofa.
Sometimes, when Aziraphale is out, he’ll light the sugar cookie scented ones to enjoy by himself.