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It was strange being back in Tadfield.
Neither of them had been for a visit since they’d averted Armageddon, and Crowley had largely intended to avoid setting foot there ever again. However, Aziraphale insisted it would be rather rude to turn down an invitation to Christmas dinner, and while Crowley couldn’t have given a toss about bad manners, he was rather lacking in willpower when it came to his angel. So, after a quick jaunt down the M40, they found themselves once again in the Oxfordshire countryside, approaching the doorstep of Jasmine Cottage with the fanciest bottle of wine Aziraphale was willing to part with.
There’d been some initial awkwardness stirred up by the damned horseshoe hanging above the threshold - Aziraphale was entirely unwilling to allow Crowley to enter the house until Anathema had assured him that it had no power over invited guests (demon or otherwise) - but it didn't take long after that for things to settle into something resembling pleasantness.
Everyone from the airfield was there. The Them were in full attendance alongside their parents, who all seemed terribly confused by the strange assortment of people their children had befriended, but nodded along politely as they were regaled with tales of vanquishing War and Death. Newt stood awkwardly between a bookshelf and a large potted Ficus, cornered by Sergeant Shadwell and left to fend for himself against an onslaught of half-drunken rants while Anathema had fled to the kitchen under the pretense of needing to check on the roast.
Just as Crowley was pondering slithering over and setting Shadwell off on a tirade about mobile phone towers, Madame Tracy sidled up to his elbow, beaming over the top of the bellini in her hands.
“Ahh, look at the two of you! I was ever so happy when I heard you’d both finally got your act together. Thrilled to bits for you!”
At his other side, Aziraphale practically lit up the room. “Oh, well, thank you, dear.”
Tracy leaned in and put a hand on Crowley’s forearm, a cheeky grin splitting across her face. "Honestly, you should have heard the thoughts that went through his head when you turned up in your car! I thought my eyes were about to pop out of their sockets."
Crowley bit down his laughter as Aziraphale's face turned a few shades shy of the red wine in his glass.
"I, erm, think I'll go check on our lovely host in the kitchen," he said tightly, turning on his heel.
Crowley watched in silent amusement as he disappeared through a cheerfully decorated doorway, while Tracy continued chattering away about what a handsome pair they made.
A few drinks later, Crowley found he was, in fact, having what could be described as A Good Time. It wasn't until he'd finished successfully convincing Anathema, Adam and Pepper that the Earth was shaped like a tetrahedron that he realised he hadn't seen Aziraphale in some time.
He excused himself from the living room and started wandering along a corridor, following the faint trail of angelic energy all the way to a set of French doors at the back of the house. Through the glass, he spotted a lone pale figure with a crown of platinum blonde curls, back turned towards the cottage and sitting on a bench at the bottom of the garden. Crowley quietly slipped outside and picked his way around well-kept shrubs and flower patches, feet moving silently over the flagstone path. When he got within a few steps of the bench, he heard Aziraphale sniffle and sigh heavily.
"Aziraphale?"
With a startled gasp, Aziraphale sat up straight and quickly dragged his hands down his face.
"Oh, my dear, I didn't see you there," he said, voice wobbling out over his shoulder.
Crowley settled himself down on the bench, finally able to catch a glimpse of Aziraphale’s face. The sight made Crowley’s heart fall; he was flushed and blotchy, and - despite his best efforts to wipe away the evidence - his cheeks were very damp.
“Angel, what’s wrong?” he asked, gently laying a hand on top of a plush thigh.
Aziraphale smiled half-heartedly in response. “It’s- it’s nothing really.”
Crowley gave him a tilt of his head and a quirk of an eyebrow, but didn’t press. Despite everything, it was still difficult for Aziraphale to not default to hiding his feelings, to not fall back on the old habits that had kept them both safe for so long. They sat quietly on the bench, Crowley stroking the side of Aziraphale’s knee with the pad of his thumb, until at last the silence was broken by an angelic sigh.
“I suppose,” he said quietly, “I just wasn’t prepared for how difficult Christmas would be. It was always such a busy time, you know, far more assignments around the holidays. Possibly the one time of year I felt that I was actually doing some good."
He turned his gaze up towards the sky, his profile gently outlined in the light of the near full moon. Not that long ago, Crowley would have fallen over himself to commit the view to memory and save it for a lonely night.
"I know it's silly," he said, not quite able to hide the quiver in his voice. "I'm much happier without any of them. I can actually enjoy my life now... But it still feels like I've lost something. It… It somehow feels like I'm the one who's done something terribly wrong."
A blunt ache rattled through Crowley’s chest, the burnt out hole left by the grace that had been torn from him millennia ago. He'd never wanted Aziraphale to feel anything close to it.
"It's not silly," he replied, giving his knee a squeeze.
Aziraphale covered the hand with his own, soft and warm and wonderfully familiar now.
"It feels silly."
In that moment, Crowley wanted nothing more than to miracle away the pain, to draw the venom out of the wound and see Aziraphale smiling brightly again. Unfortunately, he was only too aware that what Aziraphale needed was time - probably a fair amount of it to heal over a hurt that ran so deep. He shifted on the bench to try and pull Aziraphale towards him, when he felt something press against his chest - the little surprise he’d prepared and stuffed into his breast pocket.
"Oh, hang on. I've got something for you.” He withdrew his hand from the warmth of Aziraphale's palm and reached into the inside of his jacket to produce a small wooden box. “Was gonna give this to you after the kids had got their presents, but I think it’ll be of more use right now.”
Carefully, Aziraphale plucked it from Crowley's fingers and turned it over a few times in his own hands.
"I thought we said we weren't going to bother getting each other gifts," he said, brow furrowed.
"Ah, I've had it for a long time, doesn't really count," Crowley replied with a playful smile. "I'm just passing it along."
Aziraphale gave him a frown, but pried open the box anyway and emptied out its contents into his open hand. A small, very weathered coin dropped into the middle of his palm.
"Is that… an old sixpence? What on Earth are you doing with one of these still on you?"
The coin winked up at them as it caught the light spilling out from the cottage windows.
"I don't expect you'd remember,” Crowley said. “But it was one of the times we were at The Globe, watching our old mate Will put together the debut showing of Hamlet. We were trying to figure out who was going to draw the short straw and hike up to Edinburgh."
Aziraphale chuckled softly and swiped his thumb over the surface of the coin.
"And we tossed for it," he said warmly. "Of course I remember, darling.” He looked up from his hand, eyes shining. “You kept this for four hundred years?"
Crowley gently leaned into Aziraphale’s side.
"I did. Every time I found it in my pocket, I thought of you." He reached down and closed Aziraphale's fingers around the coin. "And it reminded me that no matter how alone I felt, how rejected by Heaven or hated by Hell I was, there was someone in the universe that cared about me.” He held Aziraphale’s fist tight. “That there was someone on my side."
Aziraphale smiled at him then - a smile that put crinkles at the corners of his eyes and shifted a few tears loose.
"Oh, Crowley."
All at once, he rushed forward and pressed a kiss to Crowley’s mouth, the tang of salt and fruity wine stuck to his lips. When they parted, Crowley was greeted with the heartbreaking sight of Aziraphale with eyes red-rimmed and overflowing once again.
“Thank you, my love.”
“‘S nothing,” he replied, wiping at Aziraphale’s wet cheek with the back of his hand.
With a sniff, Aziraphale smiled before resting his head against the crook of Crowley’s neck. Crowley buried his face into the blonde curls at his shoulder, breathing in deep and closing his eyes against the prickle of his own tears.
They sat like that for some time, listening to the muted laughter and conversation floating down the garden from the house over the steady stream of cheesy Christmas music, until Aziraphale leaned his weight a little further into Crowley's shoulder and turned the coin over in his fingers.
"I can't believe you kept this," he said fondly.
Crowley couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at the corner of his mouth. "And I can't believe you never even considered I'd cheat at the coin toss."
Aziraphale sat bolt upright and threw him a look of mock outrage. “You didn’t!”
When Crowley started cackling, Aziraphale elbowed him playfully in the ribs. "You wily old snake.”
As his laughter died back, Crowley pulled Aziraphale back in close, pressing their foreheads together.
"You did always think the best of me," he said, and tipped his head to peck Aziraphale on the lips. "Even if it was entirely undeserved."
Aziraphale lifted his warm palm to Crowley’s cheek.
"I love you, Crowley."
It had been months now, but the words still made his heart backflip inside his rib cage.
"Love you too, angel."
After one more kiss, Aziraphale pocketed the coin and stood up, wiping at his face and straightening out his waistcoat with a few sharp tugs.
"I think I'm ready to go back inside," he said, squaring his shoulders.
Crowley rose to his feet with a grin.
“Excellent,” he said, taking one of Aziraphale’s hands in his own. “Alright, brace yourself. Shadwell’s likely six whiskeys in by now.”
Side by side, they walked back up the garden path together, towards the warmth and laughter of their gathered friends, towards a houseful of people that Crowley knew loved his angel the way he always should have been.