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“Are you free on Christmas?” asks Aziraphale as innocently as he can and looks over to Crowley before he takes a sip of his excellent port. Crowley, who had been stirring sugar into his double espresso, nearly drops his spoon and looks at him.
“Christmas? Erm… I think so, yeah. Nothing on my agenda anymore. Although I could make a little trouble fiddling with the cab service server.”
“You will do no such thing on Christmas!” chides the angel.
“Why ever not? It’s the perfect opportunity. No bus and tube service in London, everybody needs a cab during holiday season.”
“But you are not obliged to cause trouble. Not anymore.”
Crowley sighs. He puts down his spoon, takes a sip of his espresso and nearly burns his tongue. Around them the bustling of the Ritz's late dinner service is still a pleasant sound.
“As much as I hate to admit: you’re right. But why are you asking me about Christmas?”
“Because I would very much like to… to spend it with you.”
“Why? We’ve never done that,” Crowley frowns.
“That’s why. Because we’ve never done it. But things have changed, and… since we’re together now, I thought it would be… the right thing to do.”
Crowley licks his lips. Oh… Aziraphale is right.
“But we never celebrated Jesus’s birthday. Neither you nor me.”
“We didn’t, but half of the population on this planet does it. Besides… at least you knew him way better than I did.”
Crowley purses his lips, then reaches for his glass of water and takes a sip to soothe his tongue.
“But you know as much as I do that the majority of this population you just mentioned only celebrates Christmas because of the presents, the festive meals and the days off work.”
“That may be so. But still… it’s Christmas.”
“But you don’t want me to wear a red coat and a white beard, right?”
Aziraphale laughs, and Crowley smiles. He loves to make his angel laugh.
“That won’t be necessary, my dear. No beards and coats. No, I thought we might cook something together.”
“Cook something. Together. Angel, I hate to remind you, but you can’t cook. That’s why you always eat out since I’ve known you.” Crowley tries to hide it, but finds the idea of them cooking a Christmas meal together very intriguing.
Aziraphale blushes just a tiny bit. “Well, yes, I can’t cook. But you can. I’ve seen your kitchen and the contents of your fridge. And I’ve already smelled delicious things on you, sometimes when you visit me.”
“So I smell delicious, eh?” Crowley smirks, which makes the angel blush even more.
“I didn’t mean it that way!”
Crowley can’t help but laugh. “Angel, it’s fine. I know how you meant that. Don’t be embarrassed. Fine, we can cook together. I’ll think about something. But we will do the shopping together.”
“Wonderful. And after dinner we can watch a movie together.”
“Like Home alone?” Crowley grins.
“Oh, that was one of yours. No, I thought about something old fashioned.”
Crowley groans. “But please not ‘It’s a wonderful life’, angel, please!”
“Why ever not? It’s a wonderful movie!”
“It’s kitsch! Oh, I hate this line: ‘Every time a bell rings an angel get’s his wings.’ We both know that’s absolute rubbish!”
“That is of course in fact not true, but it’s still a movie worth watching.”
“How often did you already watch it?” Crowley empties his water glass and lifts his hand for the waiter to bring them the bill.
“I don’t know. If you really don’t want to watch it, what about ‘We’re no angels’?”
“Now you’re being ridiculous”, Crowley mumbles.
Aziraphale sighs. But he knows one thing: Crowley may deny it, but deep inside he can be a sentimental old sap. Aziraphale knows his companion for six millennia well enough. And he looks so forward to spend Christmas with him!
Crowley is already thinking about something else. Christmas means: presents.
“What about presents?” asks Crowley. The worst thing would be if he turned up with no present and Aziraphale had something thoughtful for him, carefully chosen and lovingly wrapped in colorful paper…
“Oh, since we both don’t really need material things we should keep it simple and small, don’t you think? Just as a gesture.”
“A gesture. Okay.” Crowley nods, relieved. So some very good chocolates will do, he hopes. He knows his angel well enough to know how to make him smile.
When Crowley drinks the rest of his espresso, the waiter comes with the bill, and it’s Crowley’s turn today to pay for their dinner. He hands his card to the waiter and adds a generous tip. The waiter wishes them Merry Christmas, since it’s already the 20th of December. Aziraphale wishes him the same, and they take their coats. Crowley helps Aziraphale into his coat, which makes the angel blush again. Wrapped up in their scarves and coats, Crowley with a pair of expensive leather gloves, they leave the Ritz. After they have stepped outside Crowley offers Aziraphale his arm, like he has done so many times already. The angel takes it, and they slowly stroll toward the Bentley. It’s only a short walk, the streets are already pleasantly empty. But it’s cold, and their breath is like small clouds in front of them, as they walk along the street. Crowley enjoys the feeling of being close to his angel. This feels so natural and right to him. When they reach the Bentley, Crowley opens the door for Aziraphale. With a little chuckle the angel gets inside the car.
“You don’t have to do that every time, my dear,” he smiles, when Crowley flings himself into the diver’s seat.
“What? Drive you home?” Crowley starts the engine.
“No. Help me into my coat. Open doors for me. Don’t get me wrong, it’s terribly sweet of you. But you don’t have to do that.”
“But I want to.” Crowley looks over his shoulder and drives off into the road.
“Maybe we should take turns. I want to do something nice for you, too.”
“Angel, remember what I told you about me and being nice?” Crowley keeps his gaze on the road. He’s doing his usual 90 mph.
“I do very well. But these are nice things you do for me.”
“It’s not nice. I told you I don’t do nice. It’s only polite.”
Aziraphale sighs silently. It’s still difficult sometimes to get Crowley to open up. So he decides to change the subject.
“When do you want to do the shopping?”
“Since we will need some fresh ingredients we should do it on the 23rd.”
“Alright. You bring the shopping list. Do you already have something in mind?”
“I have an idea.” Crowley smiles but doesn’t want to give too much away yet. He turns his head for a moment to smile at Aziraphale, then reaches out his hand. Aziraphale immediately takes it and holds it for the duration of the ride home.
When Crowley stops the Bentley in front of the book shop, he only reluctantly lets go off Aziraphale’s warm hand. They turn toward each other. The engine of the Bentley is purring like a jaguar.
“Well… it was a lovely evening. Thank you, Crowley. Give me a call, and we’ll meet on Monday to do the shopping.”
“It was my pleasure. Good night, angel.”
They both bend forward and share a close lipped kiss, then they smile at each other.
“Sleep well, my dear,” whispers Aziraphale. He caresses Crowley’s cheek with a fingertip, then he gets out of the car. Crowley watches him as he unlocks the shop, turns one last time to smile at him, and then disappears into the shop. Crowley sighs. He still feels the soft kiss on his lips. When he sees the light in Aziraphale’s flat being switched on, he shifts the Bentley into gear again and drives home.
Changed into some black silk pyjamas, his glasses resting on his bedside table, a writing pad on his lap and pen in hand, Crowley leans back against the pillows in his bed and thinks about a Christmas dinner. It should be something festive, but not too complicated. He does like to cook, but he doesn’t want to spend a whole day in the kitchen. Not even with Aziraphale helping him. Finally he writes down his ideas and starts with his shopping list. He knows the contents of the chosen courses by heart, so he doesn’t have to look anything up. He hopes his angel will like what he thought about. When he’s finished, he puts his notes next to his glasses and switches off the light. He sighs, when he sinks deeper into his pillows. The tip of his right index finger traces his mouth where Aziraphale’s lips had been only an hour ago. Aziraphale…
Crowley is happy with what they have. They can meet when ever they want, they don’t have to hide or pretend anything. They show a lot more affection towards each other - like walking arm in arm or even holding hands. When they sit in the backroom of the bookshop they share the sofa now, always sitting close to each other. One evening Crowley had fallen asleep there and has woken up in Aziraphale’s arms, a soft blanket tucked around him. And there is the kissing, of course. He loves the kissing. But it’s still very… chaste. Not that it’s not a wonderful feeling to know that Aziraphale likes kissing him. It’s just that Crowley asks himself if this will be all or if there is more intimacy waiting for them. They have never spoken about it. A mistake, he knows that. But he can’t bring himself to ask Aziraphale about it. If this is all Aziraphale wants and all he can give, then Crowley will take it gladly and be happy with it. It’s much more than before. And it’s good. He likes it. He likes the new way they behave around each other. It’s more than he could ever have hoped for. He is a demon after all, and in love with an angel. He can understand if Aziraphale can’t give him more. And he certainly doesn’t want Aziraphale to fall, too. He is still an angel, even if they are on their own side now. If this is how it’s going to be between them, well… then so be it.
Crowley closes his eyes and thinks about Aziraphale. About his friendly blue eyes. His soft hands. His warm smile. His smell of old books, of tea and honey. Aziraphale smells like home to him. And Crowley will always love coming home to Aziraphale. He smiles when he thinks about their first Christmas ever together. And hopes it will be a good one. He will do his best to make it a wonderful one for his angel.
Crowley spends the whole Saturday in the chaos of central London preparing for Christmas. He wouldn’t normally browse Regent and Oxford Street, but he needs a present for Aziraphale. He has already bought the chocolates, a nice box full of Aziraphale’s favorites. But something tells him he should get something else. Something more personal. And that’s more easily said than done. It’s just like Aziraphale had said himself: they have everything, don’t really need anything. A gesture. Nothing more but a gesture. Something nice. Crowley growls to himself at the thought about being nice. But that’s what this is about! He leaves Regent Street and turns toward Carnaby Street, hoping to find something special in one of the little shops here. The streets are crowded here, too, but he bravely saunters on, looking at shop windows and trying not to bump into too many other people.
One shop window catches Crowley’s eye, and he stops to take a closer look. It’s a small shop, displaying handcrafted jewelry, but also things like key rings, paper knifes, napkin rings or money clips, all enameled. Crowley smiles, when a special idea comes to his mind. A gesture? He can do that. He opens the door and enters the shop. A young woman looks up from a notepad, where she was sketching something.
“Hello! How can I help you?”
Crowley calls Aziraphale in the evening to tell him when he’s going to pick him up for the shopping. He is really fed up with Christmas shopping already, because he has thought about a surprise for Aziraphale. Not part of his Christmas present. Just a surprise. It has taken him two more hours in various shops and a trip to a gardening centre, but now everything should be ready for Christmas. Except from the shopping for their dinner. They agree on the time for Crowley to pick Aziraphale up, and Crowley tells him, they would be celebrating at his flat. He really doesn’t want to cook in Aziraphale’s little kitchen. He will be far more comfortable in his own, knowing where to find everything he needs. Aziraphale is beyond excited and agrees to everything Crowley suggests.
Monday morning, 10 o’clock and Aziraphale is already standing in front of his shop, bouncing on the balls of his feet, waiting for Crowley. Crowley smiles, when he sees the angel and stops the Bentley right in front of him. Aziraphale doesn’t hesitate to get in the car.
“Mornin’, angel,” drawls Crowley and bends over to give him a gentle kiss.
“Good morning, my dear! Did you sleep well?”
“Excellent. In the mood for some shopping?”
“Absolutely!”
The cheerful expression on Aziraphale’s face stays the same, no matter how overcrowded the aisles of the shops are. Crowley takes him to two different shops and finally a very fancy deli. At the end they have bought everything from Crowley’s shopping list and a little more. All the time Aziraphale has tried to guess what meal Crowley has chosen for them. He has some good ideas, but Crowley tells him nothing. He just smiles: “Wait and see.” It drives Aziraphale mad. He offers to help Crowley take the shopping up to his flat, but the demon refuses.
“No need, I can manage. Don’t forget the champagne tomorrow, angel.”
“I won’t. I’ll be at yours at three.”
“Alright. See you tomorrow, then.”
Aziraphale smiles at him - a smile so bright and beautiful like Crowley has never seen anything similar from any human. He feels his heart beat a little faster. Aziraphale kisses him long and gently, cupping his cheek.
“Thank you, my dear…” he whispers before he leaves the car. Crowley suppresses a lovesick sigh. He really is doomed when even these gentle little kisses leave him speechless and flustered and weak in the knees. But he wouldn’t want it any other way now that he knows how good it feels to kiss an angel…
The next morning - Christmas Eve - finds Crowley so excited that he wakes up before his alarm clock goes off. He takes a long hot shower, drinks his first coffee and tends to his houseplants - all perfect and not a spot to be seen. His nervous energy makes him clean the flat once more, until it’s finally time to change into another shirt and a new pair of black jeans. He can hear the first chime of Big Ben, telling him it’s three o’clock, when he can also hear the door bell. When he opens the door, Aziraphale flashes him a happy smile. He has a large basket in one hand, most probably the champagne Crowley asked for, and a big bag in the other.
“Hello my dear! Did you already have lunch? Because I stopped by this little bakery, the one with the excellent bread, and bought the baguette you wanted and also some croissants. Fresh from the oven. And… I have some jam and butter. I thought we could have a quick snack?”
Crowley chuckles, then begins to laugh. “You already had lunch, didn’t you?”
“Well, yes. But I wanted to have a coffee with you and…”
“Alright, angel. I get it.”
They go to the kitchen and Crowley makes some fresh coffee. The croissants are in fact excellent, still a little warm because of a tiny miracle and delicious with some butter and strawberry jam. They eat in the kitchen and don’t only share their croissants but also a lot of little kisses that taste like butter and strawberries and are maybe some of the best kisses so far. When they are finished and all the crumbs swiped up, Crowley gets up, holding out his hand. “I have a little surprise for you. Come on, angel.”
Aziraphale immediately begins to smile. He loves surprises. Eagerly he follows Crowley out of the kitchen and through the hall. And gasps, when he sees the surprise.
Standing in Crowley’s living room is a Christmas tree, already set up in a tree stand.
“Oh my god, Crowley!” exclaims the angel. Crowley rubs one of his hands over his neck for a moment. He suddenly feels ridiculous.
“You bought us a tree? That’s so wonderful, darling! What an amazing surprise!”
Crowley freezes for a moment. Darling. Aziraphale has just called him darling. He has never called him that. My dear, dear boy, dearest - Crowley is used to these terms. But darling is new, and he feels himself blush and his heart hammering in his chest. Aziraphale sees the color in his cheeks, when he turns to him with this bright smile, but doesn’t comment on it. Instead he takes both of Crowley’s hands.
“Thank you. This means so much to me,” the angel says softly, his thumbs drawing small circles over the backs of Crowley’s hands.
“We still have to decorate it. I thought you would like that. I bought everything we might need. It’s in the boxes over there,” Crowley looks into his partner’s eyes. He is so relieved he bought this damn tree and all the decorations. Aziraphale’s joy is the biggest reward for him.
“That will be fun. But you have to help me.”
Crowley nods. Aziraphale pulls him closer, stretches and gives him a kiss. One that lasts really long, and that feels so good! Crowley can’t help but pull him closer very carefully, giving the angel every chance to retreat if he wants or needs to. But Aziraphale follows willingly. Their mouths part for a second, and when they meet again, Aziraphale’s lips are slightly open, so that Crowley feels the soft, wet inside of his lips, and he can’t resist anymore. He is very cautious, when he runs just the tip of his tongue over Aziraphale’s lower lip. Aziraphale gasps, but doesn’t pull back. On the contrary. He reciprocates, and suddenly their tongues touch and it’s like electricity shooting through Crowley’s body.
Crowley has kissed before Aziraphale, of course he has. He’s a demon. And he has had sex with humans before. But never before has just kissing felt so intimate and so important. The trust Aziraphale shows him once again is almost enough to reduce Crowley to a puddle of dark goo. Even more so when he feels Aziraphale’s soft warm hand cupping his cheek. He holds back his urge to go deeper, to explore the angel’s sweet mouth. He has made a promise to himself: Let Aziraphale be the one to decide. No matter what. And it seems he has done the right thing. Because Aziraphale is getting more and more confident.
When their lips part, they are both flushed and out of breath. Aziraphale’s cheeks are a lovely rosy shade. He appears to be a little embarrassed by his own confidence and hides his face by pressing his cheek to Crowley’s shoulder. His warm breath ghosts over Crowley’s neck, and the demon shivers. His hands caress Aziraphale’s back.
“Are you alright, angel?” whispers Crowley.
“Very much so, my dear…”
Crowley swallows. He doesn’t know what to say.
“Just… a little overwhelmed, maybe,” admits Aziraphale.
“We can slow this down. There is no rush. What ever you are comfortable with.”
“Oh, I am very comfortable. It’s only so new and… I’m not used to it.”
Crowley’s gentle fingers wander up and into the soft short hair on Aziraphale’s nape over his collar.
“You must tell me if it’s too much. Or too fast. I know how you loathe going too fast…”
Aziraphale smiles when he thinks about the moment he had said these words to Crowley more than 50 years ago. He doesn’t want to keep his demon waiting. He has waited for him for such a long time… But since he has no experience whatsoever in the matter of sexuality, he depends on Crowley’s help. Which the demon is more than willing to give, apparently.
“I’m fine. I’m still getting used to it. But it feels so good to be able to be this near to you, my dear…”
Crowley smiles, then presses a gentle kiss into Aziraphale’s pale curls.
“It does in fact feel marvelous. You feel marvelous. I could spend the rest of my days just holding you in my arms. Just touching you like this. I would be more than happy.”
“But I want more. I only need some more time.”
“All the time in the world. We have it.”
“Yes.”
Aziraphale looks up now, he has calmed down enough not to be embarrassed anymore.
“Shall we start with the tree now?”
“Yep.” Crowley gives Aziraphale a gentle peck on the lips, before they leave each others arms. Crowley walks over to the many different boxes and opens the first one.
“Hope you like kitsch. Because this is nothing but kitsch,” he grins and holds up a tiny little angel with white feathers as wings.
Aziraphale laughs. “Well, let’s see what you bought.”
Decorating a Christmas tree is perhaps one of the most pointless yet most romantic things Crowley has ever done with his angel. Aziraphale is more than happy and has so much fun. The Christmas ornaments Crowley has bought make Aziraphale smile again and again. There are golden baubles with crystals and glitter, stars and snowflakes, little bows and ribbons and of course candles. And among them there are little angel figures in white and gold. But also little demons in black and silver (Aziraphale has used a little miracle to turn half of the angels into these adorable demons and has even made the hair on their heads red).
When they are finished an hour later Aziraphale beams with pride.
“You should take a photograph with your mobile phone device. I think we did a very good job. This is our first Christmas tree ever.”
Crowley smiles and takes some pictures. Even a selfie with both of them in front of the tree, though it’s a little difficult to get Aziraphale to look into the right direction and therefore into the camera lens. It takes a dozen attempts during which Crowley grumbles and swears and Aziraphale smiles and fidgets. But finally they have a decent picture which Crowley promises to print out for Aziraphale.
The next hours are spent in the kitchen. And with every step it becomes more and more clear what meal Crowley has planned. While a fabulous Beef bourguignon is simmering in the oven, Crowley prepares the dessert until they finally begin working on the soup as a starter. Where Crowley has gotten the tomatoes is still unknown to Aziraphale, but they taste amazing, and while he chops them, more than one piece finds its way into his mouth. The last time he has had tomatoes this delicious was back then in Rome, nearly two thousand years ago.
Aziraphale is surprised how structured Crowley works in his kitchen. He has rolled up his shirtsleeves and uses a checkered tea towel as a make shift apron which makes him look surprisingly amazing. He gives clear instructions to Aziraphale who is much better at consuming food than at preparing it. But it doesn’t matter, because Crowley makes up for it. They share a bottle of red wine - the same Bordeaux that’s in the Beef bourguignon. The kitchen is filled with the most delicious smells, and while they work they exchange a lot of smiles, loving glances and occasional kisses.
When everything is wiped clean and the dishwasher running, Crowley quickly sets the table. Since he has no dining room, they will eat in the kitchen. Aziraphale looks really relaxed. The angel has taken off his usual coat and is sitting at the table in only his shirt and waistcoat, sleeves still rolled up to his elbows. Crowley is pouring them a new glass of wine, before he cuts the fresh baguette into neat slices and puts the bread into a little bowl on the table.
Aziraphale just watches him work, a dreamy expression on his face. Crowley has beautiful hands: strong, with long, agile fingers. Aziraphale has admired the muscles working beneath the skin of Crowley’s arms while he was cooking and had been mesmerized by the sight. He longs to touch these hands, these forearms, these biceps still hidden underneath a tight black shirt, but nonetheless visible beneath the smooth fabric. He longs to feel the warmth of Crowley’s body, wants to feel if the skin beneath the shirt really is as smooth as it looks. He wants to taste, wants to nibble at that fabulous jaw line, wants to run his hands through the strands of red hair and pull, just to see if he can cause the reaction he would love to have… a gasp, maybe a moan…
When Crowley serves the tomato soup, Aziraphale is pulled out of his daydream
“Well, angel, our first Christmas dinner. Hope you like it.”
Aziraphale smiles brightly. “I am sure it will be delicious. Where did you get these tomatoes? I don’t remember us buying them.”
Crowley takes his seat opposite Aziraphale and takes a sip from his glass.
“Grew them myself.”
Aziraphale, whose spoon is already on its way up to his mouth, pauses.
“You mean miracled them?”
“No. Grew them. I don’t usually care for vegetables. It was just for fun.”
“I always knew you liked greenery, but tomatoes? That’s amazing!”
“Needs a little encouragement. Especially during winter time. I just thought I should give it a try.”
“I haven’t seen any tomato plants around here.”
Crowley clears his throat, embarrassed. “Erm… in my bedroom. Have to keep them under control more than the others.”
Aziraphale blushes. Oh… Crowley’s bedroom… These tomatoes have been very close to the demon while they have been growing… Have been close to him while Crowley has been asleep. An experience Aziraphale wants for himself. He himself very rarely sleeps. But he would so love to lie next to Crowley and watch over his sleep. Maybe after they have kissed, snuggled, maybe even more… He hastily puts the spoon into his mouth and the taste explodes on his tongue. He moans, and like always this sound makes Crowley swallow and wish he was the cause for such a sound…
The soup is in fact very good. Aziraphale would love to eat more but knows the rest of the meal and decides against it. And it’s a very wise decision. Because the Beef bourguignon is better than any other Aziraphale has ever had in a restaurant. Maybe because he helped cook it, maybe because Crowley has done most of the work. Maybe it’s just this first Christmas together. And the fact they they are finally allowed to share it like this. Aziraphale doesn’t want to waste too many questions and doubts. He just wants to enjoy. And how he enjoys this! Dessert is delicious, too. And Aziraphale’s happy face is more than enough reward for Crowley. After they have cleared the table, Crowley makes them an espresso, and they finish their wine, their fingers gently touching over the table top.
Aziraphale successfully manages to convince Crowley that they absolutely have to watch ‘3 Godfathers’ with John Wayne. He has really bought the dvd. After a lot of grumbling the demon gives in, and they watch the old movie snuggled close on Crowley’s leather sofa, which is mostly designed to look stylish, not to be comfortable. When their are halfway through their movie, Aziraphale snaps his fingers and miracles them a bunch of soft pillows and a nice throw (tartan, of course. Crowley growls and sighs, but has to admit to himself that sitting is much more comfortable now).
After the movie Crowley makes some tea for Aziraphale and some coffee for himself and startles, when he hears the angel’s voice very, very close: “When do we do the presents, dearest?”
Crowley whirls around. Aziraphale is standing only a step away. Why didn’t he hear him?
“Wot?” He hates how high his voice sounds and repeats in his usual voice: “What? Oh, presents. Erm… haven’t thought about that.” Crowley lies without blushing. He has spent half of the night thinking about the main event. The traditions are different. Here in the UK it’s tradition to open the presents in the morning of Christmas Day. In other countries, like Germany, the presents are opened on Christmas Eve.
Aziraphale looks at Crowley, his eyes sparkling and a smile on his face. He looks as excited as a child, and who would Crowley be to deny him a wish he obviously has?
“We… can do that today, if you like. It’s all the same to me, and this is our Christmas after all. We can do what ever we like.”
“Excellent! But let’s have tea first. I made some biscuits.”
“Of course you did…”, grins Crowley and observes how Aziraphale fetches the basket he has brought and carries it out of the kitchen.
When Crowley brings tea and coffee, Aziraphale has already opened the tin - and his present is lying on the coffee table, wrapped in golden paper and with a baby blue tartan ribbon. Crowley serves Aziraphale his tea, but before he can leave to fetch his present, Aziraphale grabs his hand.
“Let’s have tea first. And you have to try these biscuits. It’s a french recipe.”
Crowley has no other choice but to sit down and have his coffee. Never wanting to disappoint Aziraphale, he tries the biscuits. They are in fact delicious. But it’s much more fun to watch Aziraphale eat some of them. And all the while Crowley’s gaze returns to Aziraphale’s present that is innocently waiting for him to open it. What’s inside? It’s not actually a small present. Crowley is getting more and more nervous with every passing minute while Aziraphale is happily chatting about past Christmasses.
For the next half hour Crowley tries to calm down, listen to Aziraphale and best not to explode from the tension that builds inside him. Aziraphale is obviously enjoying the anticipation until they exchange presents. Thankfully at some point the angel realizes how nervous Crowley is. He puts his teacup down on its saucer (When did Crowley get a tea set, anyway? He’s a coffee person) and reaches for his present.
“Sorry, darling, I am an old chatterbox. I think we should do the presents now, right? There you go, my dear. Merry Christmas.” He offers his present to Crowley, who takes it with only slightly trembling hands.
“Thanks, angel.” The present is light, the paper is rustling where he grips it. There is something soft in it. If he’s not careful, Crowley is sure he will pierce the wrapping paper with his fingernails and tries to losen his grip a bit. He lays the present on his lap and undoes the ribbon, then the little strips of sellotape and finally reveals his first Christmas present ever…
Crowley blinks - he rarely blinks - and tries to process what’s going on. Aziraphale is looking at him, waiting. Crowley sighs very deeply and asks himself if he can miracle his own present into something more thoughtful without Aziraphale recognizing. He decides against it. Aziraphale is no idiot. He will notice.
“Angel, this is too much.”
“Nonsense. Try it! I want to see if it suits you.” Aziraphale looks so adorable right now, so Crowley can’t deny him anything. He carefully unfolds the voluminous dark red cashmere scarf and the matching beanie. The scarf is light and soft like down when he shakes it out. His fingers caress the expensive material. With a shy smile he wraps the scarf around his neck and arranges it. Aziraphale beams at him.
“Oh my dear, it looks amazing. The color is perfect for you. Now the beanie.”
In fact Aziraphale hasn’t seen Crowley wear a beanie before. Hats, yes, of course. What ever fashionable, Crowley has tried it. But even during the coldest winter times he has never worn a beanie. And that is a real shame, because now that Crowley puts it on, in Aziraphale’s opinion he looks wonderful. Much softer than usual, too. And that makes his heart sing with joy.
“That suits you so well! Do you want to take a look?”
Crowley feels his cheeks heaten. This open praise is again something he is still trying to cope with. So he nods and gets up to walk into the hallway to look at himself in the mirror he uses every day for a last check before he leaves the house.
He can’t help but smile, when he arranges scarf and beanie for far longer than necessary because they feel so good. And even look good, he has to admit. And they are very warm. He smiles at himself in the mirror while he promises himself to wear both scarf and beanie as often as possible… When he walks back into the living room, Aziraphale looks expectantly at him.
“What do you think? Do you like it?” The angel’s knees are bouncing with excitement.
“Very much. I love it.” Crowley sits back down, then gives Aziraphale a gentle kiss.
“Thank you, angel.”
Now it’s Aziraphale who blushes. “I’m happy you like it.”
“I’ll wear it every day. But it’s to warm for it in here.” He carefully takes scarf and beanie off and neatly and reverently folds them before he puts them aside. His turn now… He feels inadequate. Aziraphale has chosen his present with so much love, he can still feel it. He can imagine how many hours Aziraphale must have browsed the shops to find this exact present. Oh well, better get it over with…
“I’m… just gonna get you my present, yeah?” Crowley mumbles, while already getting up again. Aziraphale smiles - every inch the lovely, perfect, happy angel that he is. Crowley hurries to his bedroom to fetch his present for Aziraphale. The box of chocolates feels more valuable than the actual present which is only a very small parcel. Crowley sighs. This should be much easier, shouldn’t it? It’s not the first time he gives Aziraphale a present.
He hears a slight rustle from behind - the tomato plant.
“You are to have no opinion in this!” hisses Crowley, and the leaves stop rustling immediately. Vegetables are braver than one should think - reacting like this to an upset demon… Sighing, Crowley walks back into the living room where Aziraphale is patiently waiting, hands clasped in his lap. His smile brightens, when he spots the two boxes in Crowley’s hands.
“Oh, that’s so exciting, my dear!” he exclaims. Crowley feels himself blush even more. Then he sits down again and hands Aziraphale the first present. Of course Aziraphale recognizes the wrapping paper from his favorite chocolaterie.
“It’s just… the actual present is this, but…” Crowley fiddles with the ribbon.
“Oh, let’s just take a look at this one first.” Aziraphale opens the paper and then the box. The smell of expensive chocolates makes him inhale deeply.
“We’ll have some of them later. They will go splendidly with the champagne. Thank you, darling.”
Crowley can’t say anything, just offers Aziraphale the second, much smaller present.
Aziraphale takes the little box, neatly wrapped in glossy black paper and decorated with a silver ribbon. The angel admires the box for a moment, taking in every little detail. His first Christmas present from Crowley… Finally he reverently begins to open his present. After the paper is removed, he smiles when he admires the small black cardboard box. Crowley gets more and more nervous by the second. Why does the angel take this much time to open such a small present? At this point Crowley wishes the angel would just hurry, and his fingers are twitching with impatience.
Finally Aziraphale opens the little gift box. Crowley holds his breath. Why is he so damn nervous about such a pathetic present? He should have chosen something entirely different. Maybe he should have carved something out of a block of marble.
“Oh… Aziraphale looks at the contents of his little present.
“What are these for?” He picks up a key ring with three keys attached to it. The pendant of the key ring is a coiled up metal snake, enameled in black and red. Crowley clears his throat.
“These two silver ones are… erm… I thought you would want your own set. So you don’t have to ring every time you visit me.”
“Oh dear boy…” Aziraphale smiles, his eyes are bright. “You give me the keys to your flat? I feel truly honored, Crowley. Thank you for your trust.” He leans forward and gives him a gentle kiss.
“And the last one? For the letter box?”
“No, actually… it’s for the cottage. In the south downs. Where there cottage is. I mean…”
“You’re not seriously gifting me with a cottage?!” Aziraphale exclaims, brow furrowed in confusion.
“No, course not. It’s mine. My cottage.”
“You have a cottage? I didn’t know! You must show me, my dear. Maybe we can make a day trip after Christmas?”
“If you like…”
“Since when do you have a cottage?”
“Bought it many years ago on impulse after a temptation I had in the area. I hired someone to look after it. I always thought, I might…” Crowley blushes. He rubs his hand over the nape of his neck.
“I always thought if I ever needed a holiday… I know, ssstupid. A demon on holiday. All I do there is take some stress out onto the garden,” he admits. And is secretly sad he doesn’t spend more time in the cottage. He has bought it well more than 150 years ago. In fact he has held his very long nap after his fight with Aziraphale over the Holy Water in James’s park there in the cottage.
When Crowley lowers his hand, Aziraphale puts the keys into his pocket and takes Crowleys hands.
“I would be very honored if you showed it to me. And we can go on a little vacation. Why not? I think we deserve some nice time together. And I thank you so much for the keys, my darling. I promise not to invade your privacy, though. I will only use the keys when you are waiting for me.”
“Erm…” Crowley clears his throat. Sudden images of Aziraphale walking in on him during his private time come to his mind, and a surge of excitement makes him cringe in embarrassment.
“You can come see me when ever you like. I mean it. Anytime.”
Aziraphale can’t hold back any longer. He pulls Crowley into a loving embrace.
“This is the best Christmas ever. And thank you for this wonderful thoughtful gift.”
“My pleasure…” chokes Crowley. There is nothing more he can say right now, too overwhelmed is he with this turmoil of very undemonic emotions that is currently filling him to the brim. And it doesn’t get better, when Aziraphale continues.
“I want to ask you something, my dear…” The angel retreats to be able to look at him and ask him one of the most important questions ever.
“Yes to what ever you want, angel," Crowley smiles.
“You don’t even know what I want to ask!”
“Just like I said: What ever you want, you’ll get it.”
“I… I would very much like to stay the night if I may.”
“Ngk…”
To say that Crowley is surprised would be the understatement of the year, and he still tries to process, when Aziraphale goes on: “We can have a late breakfast together, maybe take a long walk through the park. When we get back home, we can have tea together while we watch the Queen’s speech. And we still have the rest of the Beef bourguignon. We could heat it up for dinner tomorrow. What do you say?”
Crowley is overwhelmed by the possibilities. Aziraphale wants to stay the night, spend the night with him! In his bed, most probably!
When Crowley still doesn’t form a proper sentence, Aziraphale’s smile fades. Oh… too much too soon, it seems.
“Or we… We don’t have to do any of this. If this is too uncomfortable for you… Silly me. I should have known not to invade your home like this. But you giving me the keys, I thought -”
“No!” interrupts Crowley, finally finding his words again. Aziraphale wants to stay? Then stay he should. This is a dream come true, after all. Something he has hoped for, but hadn’t thought possible for another while now.
“No, angel. You’re very welcome to stay as long as you like. I… I was just surprised.” He looks at him with what he himself knows is a love stricken expression, but he couldn’t care less at the moment.
“I was surprised this was something you wanted. Already. I mean… It’s not long since we first… you know, kissed.”
“It’s a few weeks already. I very much like the kissing. I love to be with you, to hold your hand. Being near you like… we were never allowed to before. Sharing a bed with you… would be a next step.”
For Crowley a next step would have been to cuddle on the sofa. But if Aziraphale wants to skip that part, then he won’t object.
“Then you are more than welcome to stay, my angel. For as long as you like.”
“That’s calling for some champagne, now, right?”
They have their bottle of champagne watching another Christmas movie (Crowley has every streaming service available, so they have almost too many options). During the movie Aziraphale leans against Crowley’s side, and it feels perfect. When Aziraphale feels Crowley more and more relax against him, he knows the demon must be tired from this extraordinary day. When the end credits of the movie roll, Aziraphale presses a kiss to Crowley’s cheek.
“We can go to bed, if you like. Wouldn’t want you to fall asleep on the sofa.”
“‘m fine,” mumbles Crowley, but doesn’t sound very convincing.
“You’re obviously tired. Up you get. Let’s go to bed.”
Crowley doesn’t resist much, when Aziraphale urges him to get up. They switch everything off, and Aziraphale reaches into his basket once again. When he turns to Crowley, he has a light blue pyjama with only a few tartan details in his hands. Crowley’s heart begins to race. This is really going to happen… Aziraphale will stay the night, in his flat, in his bed. Crowley fears he might discorporate from excitement. Aziraphale smiles when he sees how on edge Crowley is.
“I’ll go change in the bathroom, alright?”
Crowley just nods, silent and feeling dumb and ineloquent and nauseous and frightened and giddy and happy at the same time. He watches Aziraphale leave for the bathroom. Only when he hears the bathroom door close, he comes back to life.
A fingersnap changes him into his black silk pyjamas (and new underwear, just in case…), before he hurries to his bedroom where he turns his attention to his bed. The charcoal bedclothes are made out of the finest cotton but don’t seem to be fitting for this very special night. His mind is feverishly searching for something better. Multiple quick fingersnaps change the bedclothes from white cotton to dark red silk to a beige tartan pattern and then back to the charcoal ones. Crowley curses himself for his lack of imagination, when Aziraphale knocks at the bedroom door.
“Darling?”
Crowley whirls around. He looks a little like a spooked dear. Aziraphale is such a sight in this pyjama! He even wears some house slippers.
“On which side do you sleep?” the angel asks.
“Erm… You choose.”
“Alright, then…” Aziraphale chooses the right side of the bed and slips beneath the duvet. He looks expectantly at Crowley who is still frozen in place. The sight of Aziraphale in his bed is doing things to him. It’s a sight he thinks he could get used to very quickly. But he also fears his body might betray him during the night and do something inappropriate. A silent little miracle changes Crowley’s effort - safer for tonight. He tells himself not to act like an insecure human, and so he forces a smile onto his face. With a subtle sway of his hips he saunters towards the other side of his bed.
It feels strange to settle down next to Aziraphale. They both scoot around and try to get comfortable, before Crowley reaches over to switch out the bedside lamp. Supernatural senses make it easy for them both to still see each other.
“Why do you never sleep?” asks Crowley and snuggles into his pillow. He reaches out his hand and Aziraphale takes it.
“I was created a guardian, my dear. And a guardian has to keep watch. I can’t keep watch if I sleep. And it’s so ingrained in me… The last time I tried sleeping was centuries ago. But I want to sleep tonight. Because I want to wake up next to you. I want your face to be the first thing I see in the morning. Does that even make sense?”
It makes all the sense in the world, because Crowley feels exactly the same. And because of that he can’t hold back any longer. He scoots close and pulls Aziraphale into his arms. He can’t say anything, just holds him tight and hopes that Aziraphale gets what he wants to tell him without words. He feels Aziraphale’s chest expand with a sigh. Seems to work, then, because the next he feels are the angel’s hands caressing his back.
“You feel so lovely in my arms…” whispers Aziraphale, “I could hold you like this for the whole night.”
“If you like…”
“Very much. But I also want us to feel as comfortable as possible.”
“What do you suggest, then?”
“Well, I have heard about something called spooning. Did you try that?”
Crowley swallows hard and is glad he has changed his effort, just in case Aziraphale wants to be the little spoon.
“Erm… I had… affairs with humans, but nothing like this. I never spent time with them like this… But of course I know how this works. What would you prefer?”
What an awkward conversation!
“If it’s all the same to you, my dear, I would like to hold you.”
Crowley nods. “Yeah, sure. Fine by me.”
So he turns in Aziraphale’s arms and feels the angel pull him close to his soft chest and belly. Oh, this must be heaven… Crowley feels warm and cozy, and a shiver runs down his spine when Aziraphale’s breath tickles his ear and neck. He puts his hand over Aziraphale’s, which is resting directly above his heart.
“I have never thought how good it would feel to hold you like this,” murmurs Aziraphale. Crowley’s heart swells with emotion. When Aziraphale says things like these to him he never knows what to say in return. But the angel seems to know that. His gentle lips press a loving kiss to Crowley’s neck right above his pulse point.
“I hope you sleep well, darling. Good night.”
“Night…” whispers Crowley. He wants to tell Aziraphale how much he loves him. How much it means to him that they are together like this. If only he could muster up the bravery to just open his mouth and say…
“I love you, angel.” Crowley stops breathing. What was that? Did he really say that? Out loud? He lies perfectly still, frozen in place, because Aziraphale doesn’t say anything, doesn’t do anything. Oh, shit, he’s fucked this up. Idiot. Fucking idiot! How can one demon be so stupid? Telling an angel you love him?
But then he feels Aziraphale’s arms tighten around his body, and hears him say: “I love you, too, Crowley…”, and finally Crowley can breathe again. Not that he really needs to breathe. But taking a relieved breath feels good. And he feels as if a weight is lifted from his chest, from his heart. He feels as if part of him, that he deemed himself unforgivable, is forgiven. If an angel can love him like this, then maybe he isn’t a lost cause.
“Merry Christmas again, my dear.”
“Merry Christmas…” repeats Crowley and can finally close his eyes. His greatest wish will come true tomorrow. He will wake up in Aziraphale’s arms. And that’s the best Christmas wonder ever.