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Aziraphale loved Christmas. Crowley loved tormenting the people who, generally, enjoyed the day of Christmas a casual and unenthusiastically normal amount but were easily irritated by the ones that began blaring the same five festive songs on repeat, over and over and over, and over, the moment it got a little chillier than usual outside. (Watching department stores begin to sell trees and ornaments in September made him grin, though if it was because of Aziraphale’s eyes lighting up or because of the many groans from reluctant shoppers, it was hard to tell.) So as December rolled around and Christmas was fast approaching, it was no surprise to see the old bookshop dusted and decorated for the season.
These decorations were only in the back room, of course. It wouldn’t do to make the storefront look inviting. That might draw in more customers.
The day was winding down to dusk and the fireplace was roaring to life, though not a single spark dared to flicker out of place. Aziraphale was humming something vaguely festive but long forgotten, sitting in his usual spot and with a well worn blanket sprawled across his lap. His eyes were closed so he could better breathe in the calm atmosphere and the heart warming scent of hot cocoa.
It was all rather lovely.
Well, it was almost all rather lovely.
Across from him, Crowley was collapsed on and against and… partially in front of the couch. It really looked quite uncomfortable, but he didn’t seem to care as he mindlessly scrolled through the mobile he was holding up precariously, directly over his face. It wasn’t so much that, that bothered Aziraphale. That was quite normal. It was more so the loud slurping noises that were causing his eyebrows to twitch.
“Really, Crowley. Must you do that?”
“Wha?” was the eloquent response he got in return. Crowley didn’t even lift his head to acknowledge the complaint, too engrossed in whatever video he was watching. He sighed.
Before the end of the world, it wasn’t too often that they had gotten to spend any holidays together. Especially this one. So many miracles were in need of performing that Aziraphale (and Crowley too, when the angel said please just right) was usually kept busy for the entirety of the month. In the time apart, Aziraphale had managed to forget Crowley’s odd habit for eating candy canes, if eating was what you could call it.
He didn’t even like them that much. At least, he never finished them. He just sucked on them endlessly until they were sharp little daggers, as thin and pointy as he could possibly make them, then amused himself by poking everything within reach until he lost interest.
Honestly, Aziraphale wouldn’t have miracled up the candies for them if he had remembered this.
He tried to focus on other things instead. The slowly flickering red and green lights spun around a stack of books in the corner that somehow never toppled over; the sweet and minty taste of his own candy cane floating in small pieces, melting inside his mug of cocoa; the fading paint on a wooden reindeer that once sported a bright red nose, some odd years ago.
Anything to distract him from the way Crowley’s slightly forked tongue would peek out between his stained red lips to cradle the candy can every time he pulled it out of his own mouth to glimpse down at its progressively growing sharpness. He’d only just begun.
With another loud slurp, he puckered his lips and sucked it back into his mouth to start again. Aziraphale nearly choked on his cocoa.
“Crowley,” he coughed out, and that got his attention.
“You alright over there?” The phone was put away and he turned his head to stare up at the angel, pushing the stick to the corner of his mouth in the process.
“Yes, yes. But do you really have to be that noisy when you eat? It’s quite distracting.” Crowley laughed.
“Me? Being too distracting when I eat? You should hear all of the-” he paused, his eyes flicking away and then back. “What am I distracting you from anyways? You’re just sitting there trying to look all… holy,” he waved his hand in some nonsense gesture. “Peaceful. You’re not even doing anything to be distracted from.” Which was an entirely true statement. What was Aziraphale supposed to say? Please stop because I’m not used to hearing you do such things with your mouth and it’s giving me strange feelings? He didn’t imagine that going over too well.
Instead of responding, he pursed his lips and fixed Crowley with A Look. Not The Look, specifically, but one that was close enough to get his point across.
“Wait, is this about that argument we had, back in Germany? About the proper way to eat these things? Because if you’re really still holding out that you’re right and I’m wrong, I’d just like to say I don’t care.” He bit the end off with a crunch. “And also that you’re still wrong.”
Aziraphale opened his mouth, but then closed it. He wasn’t going to take that obvious bait.
Crowley smirked, obviously thinking that he had the upper hand here. With a finger looped around the curve, he held the candy to his mouth and ran his tongue up it, never once breaking eye contact with the angel. “It’s more fun this way.”
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At first Aziraphale thought that Crowley was trying to tempt him. He must be, because it was working. He’d sit there across from him in his usual spot on the couch, or he’d lean against a bookshelf in the shop during open hours. He’d make over the top sucking noises, humming low in his throat to get Aziraphale’s attention. And if Aziraphale caved in and looked at him, face usually flushed with annoyance and embarrassment among other more complicated emotions, he’d stop and grin, all teeth and fangs. He’d pull the candy cane out, letting his tongue poke out with it, and show off the sharp point to it. He’d wag it back and forth like that was the part of this whole ordeal that Aziraphale was focused on.
And then he’d be done with it. He’d move on to something else, act like that hadn’t just happened. It left the angel confused and wanting, but he assumed that’s what Crowley intended.
It wasn’t until two weeks into this little game that Aziraphale realized with a start that, no, Crowley wasn’t trying to tempt him. Crowley was genuinely just trying to be obnoxious. Nothing more.
Aziraphale wished he had figured this out sooner, before the idiot did it out in public.
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Dinner had been going great. It was at a little hole in the wall restaurant that Crowley had stumbled across. Of course he’d invited Aziraphale out to it after discovering that the place served highly praised sushi. Aziraphale ate, Crowley nibbled, and they both sipped Pinot Noir until they felt comfortably warm inside and out.
They’d talked about getting Crowley a new scarf for the winter, about an old book coming up to auction that Aziraphale had his eyes on. The angel had wondered about his favorite little bakery that had been recently broken into. And although nothing seemed to be stolen or damaged other than the glass window on the door, it was odd that the insurance was going to pay the struggling young couple enough to cover their daughter’s medical bills. It was a miracle he wished he had witnessed, and one that Crowley claimed to have no idea about.
And then their own bill came, and it all crashed downhill.
With a polite smile, the waiter took Crowley’s card. “I’ll be right back, gentlemen,” he said as he placed two mini wrapped candy canes on the table for them, instead of the usual dinner mints, and took his leave.
Crowley’s brows shot up in an instant and his smile turned devious.
“No. Absolutely not!” Aziraphale’s hand shot out to make a grab for them, but the demon was quicker. He snatched the closest one up and ripped the plastic off in one fell swoop.
“What’s wrong, angel?” His tone was teasing and his smile was easy and mischievous. “They brought one for you too.” And with that, the longer end went straight into his mouth.
“Please don’t do this to me. Not here, not in public.” Aziraphale hid his already wine-flushed face in his hands, but after a moment he peeked through his fingers. Crowley’s single laugh was loud and sharp, his head tilted back to expose his long throat.
“Public? Why does that matter?” He slid the candy back out of his mouth and the angel was alarmed to see that his currently snake-like tongue was following along the pattern of the red stripe.
Aziraphale gave a small gasp. “Crowley,” he admonished. Or maybe he just whined it. “That’s highly inappropriate.”
“What is? Being a nuisance?” He sucked it back in. “I enjoy it.”
“No, this… this tempting! It’s bad enough at my bookshop! But here? Really?” He bit his bottom lip and seemed oddly more flustered by Crowley’s taunting than usual. Maybe it was the wine. He could always blame it on that.
He couldn’t seem to choose between staring at Crowley’s lips or the white clothe napkin in front of him.
“Tempting?” Crowley’s smile faltered a little. “I left the other one right there, on the table. You can still have it.”
Aziraphale heaved a sigh. “We both know perfectly well that’s not what I meant.” He fixed the demon with another Look.
Crowley blinked once. Twice. “What?”
They kept starting at each other for a long moment. Aziraphale waiting for Crowley to break from the charade, Crowley waiting for Aziraphale to explain what he meant. It was Aziraphale who broke first.
“...Oh. Oh, you’re serious, aren’t you? You thought-” Aziraphale’s eyes widened and both his hands came back up to cover his mouth.
“I thought… what?” He tilted his head, smile gone and completely replaced with confusion.
“You were trying to get a- a rise out of me? You thought you were just annoying me?” The angel’s voice gained pitch at the end, almost laughing but a little bit desperate to be proven wrong.
“Of course I thought that. What else would I be thinking,” he hissed under his breath, hating not seeming to understand the joke here.
Aziraphale laughed, hard, shoulders shaking in his attempt to keep it all smothered in his hands. “Crowley. Oh. Oh, Crowley.”
“What!?” He finally snapped. Aziraphale wiped a tear from his own eye and rested his cheek in his palm, giving the demon a soft, amused smile. “Are you going to explain what exactly I’m missing here or not?”
“I think I need to be more sober for that conversation.” Before Crowley could question him again or protest any further, Aziraphale leaned across the table and plucked the candy cane from his lips with his free hand. His expression turned coy, and he gave it a little lick before sucking it into his own mouth. Never once breaking eye contact with Crowley. Whose mouth fell open just a little.
Oh.
“Oh.”