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Aziraphale wanted to kiss him, Crowley was sure of it.
He was… he was pretty sure, anyway.
…Or was it just wishful thinking? The ridiculous, misplaced hope of humans during the holidays infecting him.
Couldn't be, could it? He’s known the angel for millennia; he knows when Aziraphale wants something.
And Aziraphale has wanted to kiss Crowley for, pshhh, decades, at least. Crowley was sure of that.
The question was whether the angel was ready for it.
And Crowley was… pretty sure it was time.
They were finally free to be around each other without looking over their shoulders every two minutes. And Crowley had taken advantage of that, taking Aziraphale out to lunch and such as often as he could reasonably get away with, while taking notes on how much love he could pour on the angel without overwhelming him.
And Aziraphale had been taking it all perfectly well. He’d even made a few, er, gestures, himself. He’d planned a picnic for the two of them at the end of summer. He’d taken Crowley’s hand in his own during a breezy autumn stroll through St. James’s Park. And at the end of every outing, Aziraphale seemed to be… waiting for something.
And Crowley was quite sure he knew what that something was.
He was just… not precisely certain.
He wasn’t… He wasn’t nervous, of course, because demons had no business being nervous. He was just… you know, waiting for the right moment.
But tonight was Christmas Eve, and he was going to do it.
He was going to kiss his angel.
He’d planned the whole thing out.
He’d pick Aziraphale up at the bookshop, and they’d walk together to Covent Garden. From there, Crowley would spoil Aziraphale with treats from the market, and then they’d stand in front of the great Christmas tree and… and he’d do it. He’d kiss him. And it would make Christmas an actually bearable holiday. It would make Christmas the best holiday. The single best day of his existence to date, probably. Er… you know, outside of averting Armageddon and surviving his (or, Aziraphale’s) execution.
Tonight was the night.
He just needed to stick to the plan, and then it would just… happen, at the end, and they would be kissing, and it would be perfect.
Crowley elected to walk rather than drive from Mayfair to Soho, to give him more time to build up some goddamn nerve. Not that he was nervous! Just… could use a confidence boost. Not that he didn’t exude confidence already! Just…
Okay, he was nervous.
Fine.
Whatever.
What of it, anyway? It was normal for someone to be nervous about prompting a big shift in a 6,000-year friendship! Even if he was… mostly sure it was a welcome one!
“I’m quite excited about this little outing,” Aziraphale said as he locked up the bookshop and stepped out into the street. He was dressed warmly in his usual layers, only he’d substituted his usual coat with a longer, dark blue overcoat, and he wore a very soft-looking, cream-colored knit scarf. “I’ve been thinking about it all day,” he said, turning to Crowley with a smile.
Hah, me, too, thought Crowley, taking a breath. He’d spent maybe a little too much time contemplating what to wear for the evening, and had gone through several outfit changes before settling on what he was currently wearing. A black turtleneck, his usual tight black trousers, a long black coat, and a red silk scarf. He’d decided to forego the sunglasses, because he didn’t want to be wearing them when he kissed Aziraphale, and he needed to be sure he wouldn’t forget to take them off at the right moment. It left him feeling just a little more vulnerable than he liked, but he was hoping it’d pay off at the end of the night.
The coat wasn’t nearly thick enough for the winter chill. He shuddered as he fell into step alongside Aziraphale and they began their walk towards Covent Garden.
“I was so pleased when you suggested it,” said Aziraphale, cheeks rosy with holiday joy. Or, perhaps he was just cold. “You know, we haven’t spent Christmas together in quite some time. Not counting when we were, er, ‘in character’, you might say, when we were raising young Warlock. This is our first real holiday outing since… Goodness, has it been over a century?”
“Mmh, yeah, s’been a while.” Crowley put on his best cool grin and asked what Aziraphale had been up to earlier in the day. Apparently, he’d kept the shop closed (he was “not particularly a fan of all the holiday hullabaloo from last-minute gift-buyers”, he said), and had sat in his favorite chair reading Dickens until Crowley’s arrival.
So, not panicking, then. Good for him. Must have been nice.
“And how has your Christmas Eve day been, my dear?” Aziraphale asked brightly, rubbing his hands together in the cold. Crowley made a mental note to do something about those cold hands once they reached the market.
“Not panicky, ‘cause that’d be ridiculous,” he replied snarkily, more to himself than to Aziraphale, speaking without thinking. It earned him a funny look from his friend. “Er, you know. Avoided the panic of the holiday crowds. Stayed at home til I came to get you.”
“Ah,” Aziraphale nodded. “Quite wise of you.”
Crisis averted.
“I do hope it won’t be too busy where we’re headed,” said Aziraphale.
“Nnh, it won’t be,” said Crowley, with the most confidence he’d felt all day.
Aziraphale eyed him with a squint. “Did you… do anything?”
Crowley cracked a sly grin. “Never mind that. It won’t be too busy, don’t worry.”
“You wicked thing,” Aziraphale chided, though his smile betrayed him.
In truth, Crowley hadn’t done anything too wicked. He’d just miracled a sort of, er, energetic field of dullness around Covent Garden, so it wouldn’t draw much of a crowd. Still, he delightedly played his part in their little game of pretend arguments, and cackled as though he’d cursed half the population of London in order to keep them at home.
Then Aziraphale slid his arm into the crook of Crowley’s, and his cackle dried up and became an awkward little cough.
“So,” said Aziraphale in a hushed but excited voice, “what exactly have you planned for the evening?”
“Plan? What do you mean plan? S’no plan, what would there be a plan for? We’re just going out. Nothing– Just– Christmas Eve stroll, s’all we’re doing.” Crowley cleared his throat and cursed his voice for going up so many octaves when the angel had merely asked a perfectly normal question. “Er, hot cocoa?”
Aziraphale gave him a skeptical look, then softened into a smile. “Mm, that would be lovely.”
They weren’t even halfway to their destination, but there was a little café coming up on the corner, and Crowley was eager to get them both sipping on something to avoid any more nerve-threatening, utterly normal conversation.
It made him ache when Aziraphale unlocked arms with him in order to receive his cocoa, but he quickly reminded himself they’d be plenty close soon enough.
He pushed any anticipatory thoughts of what would happen toward the end of the night out of his mind; he didn’t want to ruin the moment by imagining what it would be like to kiss Aziraphale before it actually happened.
…Of course, he’d imagined kissing Aziraphale plenty of times over the millennia he’d known him, but… the point was, he didn’t want to set up any expectations for how it’d actually feel.
They walked in casual silence for the next five minutes or so, Aziraphale only breaking it a few times to point out festive holiday decorations on buildings, or, to Crowley’s dismay, happy couples walking hand in hand… or, in one case, snogging in the middle of the street.
“They look so happy together, don’t they?” Aziraphale sighed. “It’s one of my favorite things about the winter holidays. Seeing how the humans remember to treasure their bonds with one another. Snuggling up in the cold weather, giving gifts, saying heartfelt things… It’s quite sweet.”
Crowley made a strangled noise in the back of his throat, but tried to pass it off as an unimpressed groan. “S’fine, I guess,” he mumbled. “Funny how they don’t even know how close they were to losing it.”
Aziraphale looked to him with a pouting little frown. “Well, I don’t think the near-Armageddon was funny.”
Crowley rolled his eyes. “Not funny like ha-ha, funny like… I dunno, noteworthy?” Crowley blew a sigh from his lips and lifted a hand to point up ahead. “Market’s coming up.”
“Ah!” Aziraphale brightened immediately, eyes twinkling at the sight of the brightly decorated tree at the entrance to the market up ahead, and Someone help him, Crowley wanted to kiss him right then and there.
Not yet, you eager idiot, wait til the end of the night. “Er, how about we walk through and look at the shops first, then end the night by the tree?” Christ, why did his voice keep going all high and awkward and ridiculous? Crowley cleared his throat and added, “S’just that the sun’s only just gone down, and it’ll look even better when it’s, you know, ah… actually dark out. And we don’t want the shops to close, so… you know.”
“Ah, how clever of you, my dear.” Aziraphale nodded and, to Crowley’s delight and dismay, hooked arms with him again after transferring his cocoa to the other hand. “Onward we go, then.”
And onward they went. Past the tree, which Crowley could hardly spare a side-glance at without feeling as though he was about to discorporate, and into the market.
The first stop they made was at a little gift shop, where Aziraphale blessed the owner upon learning that they were giving away 50% of the sales that evening to a local charity. Crowley smiled fondly, but pretended to roll his eyes as they exited the shop.
“What?” Aziraphale put on a little pout. “It’s the holidays! I merely ensured that the good they do will return to them tenfold.”
“Very good, angel. Proper Christmas spirit, you’re in.”
Aziraphale beamed. “Oh, I just love being free to give out blessings and miracles as I deem appropriate, rather than worrying about Heaven’s limitations.”
Crowley couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips. “Yeah, freedom’s nice, innit?”
Aziraphale held his gaze with a bright smile for a moment, then shuddered and rubbed his hands together. “Bit chilly in here, isn’t it? Even out of the open air, I–” Aziraphale frowned curiously when Crowley held up a little white bag. “What’s this?”
“Just something I snagged while you were blessing the shopkeeper.” Crowley grinned and pushed the bag towards a suddenly horrified Aziraphale. Crowley rolled his eyes. “I paid for it, angel, of course I paid for it. I actually overpaid for it,” he said. “Just open it.”
Aziraphale gave him a skeptic look that softened into a smile as he glanced down and opened the bag. “Oh!” He pulled out a pair of soft blue mittens, with little white angel wings embroidered on the sides near each thumb. “Crowley, these–” He looked up at him with a smile that could probably have averted Armageddon itself with the amount of love it held. “These are lovely. Thank you.”
Crowley felt himself turn several shades of red, and wished he’d worn his goddamn glasses. “Nnh, s’fine,” he mumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Didn’t want you to complain about the cold all night.”
“Mmhm,” Aziraphale hummed, a knowing look in those sparkling eyes. Damn him.
They continued on their walk through the market, and it mostly felt like any other outing they’d had together in the past half-year or so. Only Crowley hadn’t felt so bloody anxious the other times.
They stopped at a chocolatier on the way out after they’d completed their circle, and Crowley bought Aziraphale a box of truffles, which the angel picked out himself. Plus a few for the road, because he could tell by the look in Aziraphale’s eyes that he wanted to open that box right away and have a piece or two.
“Thank you, dear,” said Aziraphale as he popped a chocolate into his mouth. His cheeks were rosy with what was definitely holiday cheer this time. Or maybe… maybe he was just happy to be around Crowley. Maybe. Christ, Crowley hoped. Because they were at the end of their outing and it was time to look at the tree.
Okay. The tree. They were at the tree, now. This was it. The Big Moment. The all-or-nothing. The hurry-up-and-do-it-before-you-lose-the-nerve.
Crowley set up another “dullness” miracle specifically around the tree to keep the area from getting too crowded – but he didn’t want it too quiet, either, or it’d be weird. There were a few other couples around, keeping their distance, of course. And a family on the other side of the tree, and Crowley spared another miracle to ensure that their bright-eyed toddler didn’t decide to have a meltdown in the middle of his and Aziraphale’s Big Moment.
Right, the Big Moment.
This was it.
“So, Aziraphale, it’s, um…” Crowley let out a slow breath and offered Aziraphale the best, sleek-yet-soft smile he could manage, quirking a brow and sliding into his usual coolness. He could do this. “S’been a half decent night, yeah?”
Aziraphale gave him the sort of smile that always made everything in the vicinity seem to glow. (Ethereally, of course. Nothing the humans would necessarily pick up on. But Crowley could see it, subtle as it was on this plane of existence. Crowley could feel it.) “Oh, I would say it’s been a great deal better than that,” said Aziraphale.
Crowley couldn’t help but smile back. “Yeah?”
Aziraphale hummed and looked down at the box of chocolates in his hands, and raised his eyebrows toward the new mittens he was wearing. “You’ve spoiled me.”
“Uh… Yeah.” Crowley gave a deep nod. “Spoiled, yup. S’what I do with you, right?”
“Mmhm.”
“You could say I sort of, er, give you as much as you want, at… at your pace, of course.”
Aziraphale’s lips quirked with the hint of a knowing smile. “Of course.”
Alright. Here we go.
“Well, I wanted, to, er… You know, since it’s, um, such a, a better than half decent night and, uh…” Crowley took a breath, then swallowed thickly and gestured vaguely. “You know, thought I might… Well, give you, ah…” Someone help him, why was this so hard?! His throat felt dry and his tongue too big for his mouth. Was it actually too big for his mouth? Had he gone all snakey? What if he went all snakey when he kissed Aziraphale?! Crowley took another breath as subtly as he could, because, really, he was starting to lose his sleek and sexy demeanor and melt into a nervous mess. That was not part of the plan. “I, er…”
“Yes?” Aziraphale’s eyes dazzled in the lights, his face brightening with an almost hopeful smile.
A smile that Crowley too quickly imagined disappearing if he went too fast. A smile that Crowley thought would be better off unkissed, rather than running the risk of it faltering and the angel stepping back and uncomfortably telling him that he’d misread the situation and was going too fast, too fast, too fast…
“…S’a good looking tree, innit? All red and green and glowy.” Crowley blew out a huff and shoved his hands in his front pockets. “And the big red bow, there. S’uh… Very, you know… Christmassy. Just wanted to, uh… give you a… a proper view of it.” His hands shot out of his pockets to gesture awkwardly at the tree. “Here you go, Merry Christmas, and all that.”
Aziraphale’s once-bright smile collected itself into a polite one. Worse, there was a tangible sadness beneath it. Disappointment, maybe. Shit shit shit shit shit. “Ah, yes, it’s…” Aziraphale’s eyes flicked to the tree, then down to the ground, “it’s quite lovely.” He huffed something of a sigh and shivered as though his half-dozen layers weren’t enough for the brisk evening. “Well, I… I suppose I ought to be heading back to the shop. It’s getting rather late.”
Crowley’s mouth opened and closed a few times, his heart pounding achingly in his chest as his mind screamed, Do something, do something, DO SOMETHING! “Nnh, yeah,” was the best he could come up with.
Aziraphale beheld him sadly. “Goodnight, Crowley,” he said. “Merry Christmas.”
And then Aziraphale was turning away, turning to leave, and, unlike the underlying nerves he’d been facing all day, this time Crowley truly panicked.
The night couldn’t end like this. Aziraphale looked so sad! And it was Crowley’s fault because he chickened out again and– No. This was not how tonight was going to end.
“Angel,” Crowley said, mustering every ounce of courage into his breath.
Aziraphale turned around, brows high, eyes ever-hopeful. “Yes?”
Crowley sucked in a breath, tilted his head as if to say here goes nothing, and said, “I lied. About the tree. I mean it’s a fine tree but it’s not what I wanted to give you. I wanted to give you… I wanted… Can– Can I kiss you?”
The two seconds it took the angel to respond were utter torture. All Crowley would think was, Please. Please please please please please pl–
Aziraphale cut off Crowley’s useless train of thought when he stepped into his space, lips spreading into a bright smile, and said, “I think I would like that very much.”
One breath.
Two breaths.
Crowley looked at Aziraphale, leaned forward, and then they were kissing.
Their lips were touching, and in truth it was really the simplest of sensations – and yet it surpassed every imagined kiss that had ever been explored in the confines of Crowley’s mind.
Crowley found himself snaking his arms around his angel’s waist, pulling him closer. And he must have lost control of his miracles in the midst of this glorious distraction, because distantly he heard a toddler crying from the other side of the tree, and a couple arguing about whose in-laws had better holiday traditions, and some obnoxious group of teens were making mocking kissy noises at them, and… none of it mattered. He was kissing Aziraphale.
He felt the ethereal flurry of a miracle when they pulled apart, Aziraphale’s eyes drifting open as he smiled at him dreamily, and then there was no screaming child, no arguing couple, and the young group to the right seemed to have remembered their manners.
As Crowley began to be more aware of his surroundings (that is, the world outside of him and Aziraphale), he noticed that the couple was no longer arguing because they were kissing. The teens were taking a group selfie in front of the tree, all wearing bright smiles. And the toddler was giggling gleefully and babbling about Santa Claus.
“That your doing?” Crowley murmured through a smirk.
Aziraphale blushed and smiled. “I got carried away.”
“I love you,” said Crowley, because obviously this was the time for it.
“Oh, my darling,” Aziraphale gushed, “I love you, too.” He leaned forward and pressed a sweet kiss to his cheek. “Merry Christmas, Crowley.”
Crowley flushed, biting back a grin, then thought to be a bit sheepish about almost chickening out. “Er, listen, I’m… I’m sorry, I was, you know… bit awkward tonight.”
Aziraphale’s soft expression melted into one of… pity? Or was that regret? “Oh, I– I’m sorry, my dear, I– I’m so sorry.” He dropped his head and sighed, then looked back at Crowley with tears in his eyes. “I oughtn’t have forced you to be the one to make such a bold move. I’ve always been the one to hold us back, and I– I ought to have been the one to finally ask to kiss you, rather than making you do such a thing when I’ve never given you–”
“Angel,” Crowley interrupted, taking Aziraphale’s mittened hands in his own.
“Hm?” Aziraphale sniffled and blinked back his tears.
“Shut up, yeah?” Crowley gave him a gentle smile, then sighed when Aziraphale responded with a pursed-lipped frown. “Look, I’ll accept your official apology letter tomorrow, if you feel so strongly about it, and then we can burn it together because you’re being ridiculous. I’m not cross with you, I just… Kiss me again?”
Aziraphale brightened up again with a smile. “Oh, I would love to!”
The second time was just as sweet – a chaste press of lips against lips. And as soon as they were pulling apart, they found themselves drifting back in for more of that warmth. A third time, then a fourth, and fifth… Aziraphale was the one to finally tease his tongue along Crowley’s lower lip, and Crowley ended up miracling them both back to the shop so they could properly snog in private.
They spent the rest of the night together, and woke up on Christmas morning eager for a lazy day in.
Neither of them had really gotten each other gifts, but they were perfectly content to share a gift of what Aziraphale insisted upon calling “cuddles” (not that Crowley could provide a pride-preserving alternative), and some mulled wine as the day stretched into a calm, cozy evening.
It felt as natural as anything else they’d ever done together, kissing and… okay, cuddling on the sofa.
And as Christmas came to an end, with the promise of more kisses and cuddles to come in the days that would follow, Crowley couldn’t help but chuckle to himself, and wonder how he’d managed to get himself so worked up the day prior.
He fell asleep with his head on his angel’s chest, listening to him read some old story about Christmas, and giving, and spreading love and joy and all of that silly, gushy holiday stuff. He was vaguely aware of a kiss being pressed to the top of his head, and as he began to dream of the things (or, rather, the angel) he liked best, he was quite sure he heard the words, “Goodnight, my dear. I love you. Merry Christmas.”