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Chapter Text

December 2011

Not unlike a bookshop, airports are always filled with stories. They come in all genres, both tragic and comic, and if you only keep your eyes open you can watch them unfold. The only real disappointment is that you rarely get to see them through to the end. 

Aziraphale was currently watching a family drama. A middle aged woman was finally telling off the mother who’d been bossing her around on the entire flight over from London. The old mother was shaking her head and grasping her heart, undoubtedly readying a well-timed reminder of ‘all those years’. Unfortunately the pair got into a cab, and he never got to witness the rest of the argument. 

He turned his attention to the children’s adventure series to his left. Two brothers, each no more than ten, were excitedly discussing the family’s big American holiday. The older of the two was explaining all the important things. “It’s the biggest toy store you ever saw. It’s real. It was in a movie and everything! They got life size animals and—”

Then they too were getting into a cab, ushered away by their exhausted parents. There were still other stories around of course, the impatient businessman, the couple with the heavily pregnant wife, the anxious professor who was grading papers even as she waited for a taxi in the cold December air.

And, of course, there was Aziraphale himself. His current genre was romance. 

It was not a situation he had ever expected to find himself in and, even on the few occasions over the years where he’d let himself hope, he’d never imagined it like this. His dreams had been filled with cozy bookshop backrooms, a demon in his lap, and the sounds of London safely muffled beyond the windows. His reality was the chaotic bustle of a New York airport, his hands twisting together, as he nervously scanned the crowd for the approach of a red haired young man.

He was waiting for Anthony, old childhood friend, new romantic partner, and one time Crowley, although only Aziraphale remembered that last bit. 

He scanned his surroundings once more and this time his face lit up. In the distance, sauntering along the pavement, was a lanky figure all in black. Aziraphale’s heart began to pound rapidly, nerves half transforming into excitement. They had not seen one another in a month and a half, not in person. There had been an ocean between them and no power but air travel to reunite them. Human as he was at present, Aziraphale was limited by things like ‘time’, ‘space’, ‘money’ and ‘paid leave’. This extraordinarily new chapter in their relationship had been put on pause, but he’d saved the funds and the dates and now they would have over a month together. It all started right now.

Anthony had noticed him. Unburdened by any luggage of his own, he’d started running, long limbs nearly hitting other people as he maneuvered his way toward Aziraphale. He did not stop when he got close, but practically pounced. Aziraphale found himself pulled into a clumsy embrace that nearly knocked him over. “Angel! Ezra! You’re here!”

It had taken a lot of soul searching and struggle for Aziraphale to break the habit of constant comparison between Anthony and Crowley. There were differences of course, borne from their varied experiences, but it was a fool’s errand to try and split them apart. They were one being in different forms, and he’d found it best to simply love him as he was, in whatever form he took. Still, a part of Aziraphale noted just how openly affectionate Anthony was. He’d never gotten that chance as Crowley.

“Yes, my dear, I’m here. I’m back. I’ve missed you!” 

Arms yet tight around Aziraphale, Anthony pulled just far enough away for them to look at one another. “I missed you too.”

His voice was low as he said it and something shifted between them. The busy world around them fell away. Aziraphale tilted his head up, just as Anthony leaned in. His lips were warm, soft, pliant, everything that Aziraphale had clung to in his memories in the time they’d been apart. 

He reached up, hands finding Anthony’s hair, and then he froze in surprise. Confused, Anthony pulled back, frowning. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing wrong, it’s just… you’ve cut your hair!” He hadn’t noticed at first. Anthony had never been wedded to one style, and that was to say nothing of all the looks Crowley had worn over the years. It hadn’t felt odd to see him with it short, but the last time they’d kissed there’d been more hair to bury his fingers in. 

“You don’t like it?”

“I didn’t say that,” said Aziraphale, over a twinge of déjà vu. He ran his fingers along the short hairs at the nape of Anthony’s neck. “I think it’s quite handsome, actually. Shows off your gorgeous cheek bones.”

These sorts of compliments were as new between them as the kissing, and Anthony turned bright red. In a desperate bid to save his dignity he stepped back and did what was evidently the manliest romantic gesture he could think of. He picked up both pieces of Aziraphale’s luggage. “Right, well, we should really get moving. Want to get out before the traffic gets too bad. But, uh, I’m glad you like the hair.”

“Of course, darling.” Aziraphale said and he followed Anthony toward visitor parking. He did not comment on any huffing and puffing as Anthony carried the bags. 

“Geeze, angel, how many books did you bring? You remember we’ve got books over here too, right?”

“Yes, but everything is spelt wrong,” Aziraphale teased. More seriously he added, “I only brought eight books.”

“Oh, only eight. Right. Reasonable number for a single flight.”

“I thought so,” said Aziraphale. “There’s a few gifts in there as well. Seemed a shame to come for Christmas and not bring sweets. I wanted to bring crackers too, but I thought airport security might disapprove of the gunpowder.”

“Seems like a good guess. I bet we can find some over here though—it’s not like they’re totally unheard of—and even if we can’t, there’s always the internet.” Anthony stopped abruptly, frowning as he looked around at the cars. When he found the one he was looking for, he cocked his head toward it, so Aziraphale would follow.

It was not a vehicle that Aziraphale recognized but, without any further information, he could already guess that it wasn’t Anthony’s. It was not his style. It was not black, not sleek, neither impressively antique nor remarkably modern. It was a minivan in dull blue, practical and uninteresting to its very core. Anthony pressed a button on his key fob and the back hatch slowly opened itself so that he could load in Aziraphale’s things. 

Aziraphale was about to ask about the car, when Anthony paused. He’d noticed a small plush Winnie the Pooh keychain hanging from the carry-on bag, and was currently running his hands along its faded fur. “You still have this…”

 “Of course; you gave it to me. Although I’m afraid I haven’t been the best custodian of his welfare. Lord knows what happened to the beehive he once possessed.”

“You’re a sap,” Anthony told him and then he slammed the hatch door shut and pulled Aziraphale close. There were fewer people here than there had been just outside the airport, and no prying eyes to watch them kiss. Aziraphale found himself pressed up against the van as what had started as something sweet and tender, quickly grew in intensity. 

They really shouldn’t be doing this here, now, with a drive ahead of them that could easily double in the wrong traffic. But Aziraphale was enjoying just how hungry Anthony seemed for him, and they hadn’t had nearly enough chances to do this before. Besides, it would have been dishonest to pretend that he hadn’t ducked into an airport bathroom to brush his teeth and shave with precisely this possibility in mind. 

Still, when Anthony began to move from Aziraphale’s lips to his throat, Aziraphale pushed him back. “I hardly think this is the place, dear.”

It took everything in him to sound so composed when Anthony was staring at him, nearly intoxicated with want. Dazedly he nodded. “Right. Yeah. We should… we should get going.”

The moment had not been effectively broken, and Aziraphale snatched at any conversation that might bring them crashing fully back to earth. “So, the er, the car, did your mother get a new one?”

“Huh?” Anthony blinked at him then and, belatedly absorbing the question, shook his head. “No. I borrowed it from your mom.”

“You were snogging me against my mother’s car?” Aziraphale slapped Anthony’s shoulder with pretended offense. “You rogue!”

“So, it would have been fine if it belonged to my mom, but yours is out of the question?”

Aziraphale pretended to give this some thought, then nodded. “Given the two of them? Yes.”

Anthony rolled his eyes, and failed to conceal a laugh. “Get in the car, angel.”

Smiling to himself, Aziraphale did just that. His smile left when he climbed in. There was something uncanny about the inside of the vehicle. He knew full well that he’d never been in it before, yet it was familiar just the same. There were signs of Edith Clark everywhere—a small plastic cross hanging from the rearview mirror, the same cheap pair of sunglasses she’d owned since the nineties stuck in a cupholder, a photo of a much smaller Aziraphale tucked into the passenger side sunshade. 

Everywhere he looked he saw his mother.

The Clarks, Edith and Elijah, had adopted him when he was, by all appearances, a nine-year-old boy. He hadn’t had much choice in the matter. He’d been attempting to turn himself mortal, so that he might go check in on a small human Crowley in need. He’d botched the effort though, over shot and turned himself into a child. There would be no moving through the modern world on his own at that age; he’d needed parents and needed them to live in the United States, close to where he’d known Crowley to be. It was Gabriel who’d found the couple—a Methodist pastor and his wife. It had not been an ideal situation for Aziraphale, but it worked out rather well, for a time. 

It had all fallen apart the second Christmas he’d come home from university in London. That was when he’d finally decided to come out as a gay. It had not gone well. They’d both failed him then, responding with denials and urging him to get help. In the years since, he’d received apologies from both of them. He’d accepted her’s, because it had come more quickly and been lived more deeply. A flyer for the Westwich High School GSA on the floor by Aziraphale’s feet was proof enough of that. She’d gone from turning her back on him to making sure no child ever felt the same way again. According to the flyer, she was even providing snacks. No, it wasn’t her Aziraphale had struggled to forgive; it was his Elijah.

Anthony had pulled them out of the parking lot now, and was swearing quietly to himself as he tried to follow the right signs to get them out of JFK’s labyrinth of one way roads. Aziraphale remained silent until they were safely out on the highway and Anthony no longer looked like he wanted to pull the steering wheel free and chuck it out the window. 

“How has the music been going, by the way? Have you started recording yet?” 

Anthony shook his head, “Nah. Violet and Jack won’t be back until January, so we won’t have the whole band together ‘til then. I’ve taken the train into New York a few times to meet up with Xave to discuss next steps and make sure we’ve got finalized versions of the songs and everything. I’m going in again in a couple weeks so we can finalize session musicians and get a good recording space lined up for after the holidays. We’ve got to talk about when to drop the album and discuss merch and how many physical copies we want to order and then figure out touring timing and what might work for that. It’s all moving though, so it’s good.”

Anthony was a rock musician, and even if Aziraphale did not entirely understand all his lingo, he was continuously thrilled by this development. It was exactly the sort of thing he felt Crowley should be doing with a human life. “Well, you’ll have to send me a copy when it’s all finished. I am allowed to listen to this one, correct?”

“Yeah,” said Anthony. “If you want to. It’s mostly… Well, I kind of wrote most of it after you initially turned me down. It’s gonna be kind of a bummer, and it’s not… I was frustrated and heartbroken and it sounds like it. Xave had to talk me out of tossing all of it after we actually got together. It doesn’t feel as relevant to me anymore.”

“Well, that may be true, but I’m sure it will still be relevant to some people. Just think of the broken hearted listener who might feel you’ve spoken to the very depths of their soul. Isn’t that the point of art, in the end?”

“That’s what Xave said. I mean, roughly, he didn’t sound like he’d gotten lost on his way to philosophy class when he said it.” 

“He sounds like a wise man, whatever verbiage he used. Will I get to meet him?” Aziraphale wanted to. Desperately. He’d heard the man’s name fairly often, he was a member of Anthony’s band but something more than that too—a mentor of sorts. He was a major piece of Anthony’s life that Aziraphale knew far too little about.

“I mean, definitely at some point, but I’m not sure about this trip. He’s got his own family holiday stuff to deal with, but I don’t know. Maybe.” The winter sun was starting to lower already and Anthony pulled a pair of sunglasses from his jacket pocket and put them on. He looked all the more Crowley in them, although he didn’t drive like it. Something about having a mortal body made him more cautious on the road, although that wasn’t a very high bar to clear. “How’s work been going for you, anyway? Still liking it?”

“Yes, I suppose. Our obnoxious intern has moved on, so there’s that. I felt bad leaving for a whole month, although the literary agency doesn’t do a lot of submissions in December. Publishing houses are too busy winding down this time of year. Still, I tried to edit as many manuscripts as I could before I left. Apparently there’s quite a market for Christmas themed romance novels!”

“ ‘M not surprised.” Anthony grimaced and turned on the radio. Some young woman was bemoaning a holiday apart from her lover. He turned it off. “It’s everywhere.”

“Oh, I don’t like that face,” Aziraphale teased. “If you’ve no interest in a little Christmastime romance than I’m afraid my holiday is going to be a good deal less interesting than I’d hoped.”

Anthony grinned wolfishly, although the flushing of his cheeks undercut the intended affect. “It’ll be interesting, trust me. In exactly the way you want it, and without any of the stupid cliches like us having to rescue a candy cane factory or save an orphanage or choose between the big corporate presentation and the family Christmas dinner or someone turning out to be secretly Santa Claus or an angel or something.”

Aziraphale squeaked then did a bad job of pretending to clear his throat. “Oh, er, have you been reading a lot of Christmas romances? It certainly sounds like it.”

“Watching mostly…” Anthony admitted. Any suaveness was now officially gone. He’d turned completely red. “Not on my own. But, they’ve been on TV nonstop since Thanksgiving and whenever I visit the Holmeses, Mrs. Holmes just kind of keeps them on in the background. It’s mind-numbing!”

“Oh, the Holmeses! How are they? Lovely as ever?”

Marjory and James Holmes were an older couple, long time members of the church where Aziraphale’s father was pastor and neighbors to Anthony and his mother. Marjory in particular was meddlesome for all the best causes, and Aziraphale had a special fondness for her. He’d never been particular close to James Holmes, but the old man had let Anthony join his classic rock band when he’d been struggling back in high school. Aziraphale would always appreciate him for that.

“Yeah, yeah. They’re doing fine. James has invited me over to jam with the Old Dogs a few times. It’s nice to see them and all, but how fucking sad is it that that’s the most interesting thing I’ve got going on in Westwich? After touring and New York and London, it’s so fucking boring! To be honest, Ez, I kind of thought you’d get a hotel in New York City or even Norford or something. I was surprised you wanted to stay with your parents.” He frowned at the road in front of him, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel before he asked, “Why did you decide to stay with your parents? I mean, it wouldn’t solve the boredom issue, but you could have stayed with me and Mom.”

“You don’t think my staying with you would have made things less boring?” Partly, Aziraphale wanted to avoid the question. Mostly he just wanted Anthony’s ears to turn red again.

They did. Anthony soldiered on. “Not with my mom in the house it wouldn’t. But seriously, angel, why stay with your parents?”

Aziraphale sighed and slouched uncharacteristically in his chair. “Perhaps it was foolish, but Mother sounded so hopeful when she asked and so thrilled when I agreed. She started talking about baking together and decorating and having you and your mother stay over on Christmas Eve. It was my parents’ fault that all those old happy Christmas memories got tainted. Their fault that all that has been out of reach for the last five years. But, I don’t know, suddenly it felt like the ball was in my court and I could give us all a chance at that again, if I was only willing to accept the olive branch I was being offered. Do you think I was stupid?”

One of Anthony’s hands found one of Aziraphale’s and gave it a squeeze. “You’re not stupid, angel. You’re just nicer than most people, nicer than most people deserve too. If it was me I don’t think I could have done it. Or…”

He trailed off here. Aziraphale sat up again, interest peaked. “Or what?”

“I’d agree,” Anthony began grinning, “But I’d make them regret it.”

Demon or human, boy or man, Anthony was mischief at his core. He didn’t sound threatening; he sounded like an imp. “Do tell.”

“Well, your parents are kind of in an interesting place. They fucked up, royally, but they’re trying to be better now. I’d guess that they’re going to be walking on egg shells, especially your dad. If he wants to get any kind of relationship back with you, then everything is riding on this visit.” A dangerous light entered Anthony’s golden eyes. “So, what I’m thinking, is that you can basically get away with anything. You can be blunt about anything, you can ask for anything, you can do anything and they’re not going to be able to say a word, because last time they did they were totally in the wrong. If I were you, I’d want to see how far I could push them until they cracked.”

“I doubt that would do much to heal the divides between us.”

“Yeah, but it would be funny,” said Anthony. He was incorrigible and Aziraphale adored him. It helped that his vengeful streak only ever operated on Aziraphale’s behalf.

They rode in companionable silence for a while, Aziraphale turning his attention to finding something bearable on the radio. Eventually he found a classical station and let himself doze off, the long plane ride through many time zones had caught up with him. 

He was awoken by a gentle nudging of his shoulder, a few exits from their childhood town. “Hey, angel, figured you’d want some time to wake up fully before we got there. That and I’ve got a question.”

“Hmm?” said Aziraphale sleepily. 

“Who knows about us?” Anthony took one hand from the steering wheel and gestured between the two of them. “Like, who have you told? Who are we telling? Do your parents know yet?”

It was a heavy conversation to wake up to. Aziraphale wiped at his eyes and tried to straighten himself up. “I haven’t told anyone on this side of the Atlantic. Everyone I know in Britain is aware, but I haven’t told anyone here. I talked to your mother a little, but she already knew. I assume you told her?”

“Yeah. I told her and my bandmates. They wanted to know about all the songs. I haven’t talked to anyone else about it though. I figured we should talk about it first. And I figured I should know what your parents know before we get there.”

“If they knew, I’m sure your experience picking the van up this morning would have been quite different indeed.” He was fully awake now, anxieties around the upcoming reunions refusing to let him go back to sleep.

“You want to tell them together?”

Aziraphale frowned. “Not today, certainly. I’m not ready to tell them today. I haven’t seen my father in five years. We’ve spoken of course, but it’s always been so perfunctory and awkward. I’ve no sense of him anymore. I don’t know how he’ll react to us. I’m worried enough just meeting him again and… Well, if I can be honest…”

“ ‘course you can.”

“Well, I’m enjoying us. It’s still so new and lovely and relatively uncomplicated.” It hadn’t felt that way when it had started and he’d been a mess of confusion, but it felt that way now. “Telling them feels like an added spanner in the works and I… I don’t want to do that just now. I want to enjoy this. They haven’t, well he certainly hasn’t, earned the respect that would make me feel required to tell them right away. I don’t see why I should have to muddle things up on their behalf. Is that wrong?”

Anthony shrugged. “Seems fair to me. I mean, you’re going to have to tell them eventually, but it doesn’t have to be now.”

“No. Not now,” agreed Aziraphale, his attention stolen by the world outside. They had reached their exit and a town he had not seen for years now unspooled before him.

The town of Westwich looked much as it had when last Aziraphale had left it, but the longer they drove, the more little changes caught his eye. Here a home had been expanded, there one had been knocked down and rebuilt entirely. A few had been repainted, fences had been built, landscaping changed. It gave him the same uncanny feeling of the car he sat in. He’d missed things in his long absence. It was not just Anthony who’d changed in that time, it was everything Aziraphale had left behind. 

He should be used to the world changing, after so many centuries living in it. He’d seen empires rise and fall, seen lakes dry up, seen mountains crumble. It should not unnerve him to know that the little coffee shop in the middle of town had been bought out by a chain. But it did. In all those thousands of years he’d only had the one childhood home; it should have been preserved in amber.

His discomfort only grew when they turned the corner to Aziraphale’s old street. There stood Westwich Methodist, its steeple stark against the orange sky of an early sunset. Tucked just behind the church, yet hidden from view, was the Clarks’ house—the little manse that had been Aziraphale’s home for the longest decade of his life. He’d not seen it since he’d left with his head held high. He wasn’t certain whether he wanted it changed, or exactly the same.

Anthony pulled the car over before they got close. “You need a moment, angel?”

Those words, so gentle and concerned, brought Aziraphale back to reality. He had not realized how uneven his breathing was, or how tightly he’d been gripping his own knees. He closed his eyes, breathed deeply, centered himself, and then gave one of Anthony’s hands a squeeze. “I’ll be alright, darling. Thank you, but I don’t think dragging out the anticipation is going to do me any good. Let’s keep going and you just promise to stay with me, hmm?”

Anthony nodded, wonderfully serious, and slowly drove them on again, taking his hand back only when he needed to turn into the church parking lot. 

Then there it was. The manse.

It might have been five years ago, or ten, for all the change there was outside. The only notable difference was the lack of Christmas décor. Edith Clark had once been a prolific decorator, covering their home in lights and wreaths and little plastic Santas. She’s stopped after their falling out; he’d known that, but he’d assumed she’d have started up again. By December 1st the whole place ought to have been glowing. This was wrong.

He was starting to work himself into a proper worry, when he felt Anthony’s hand on his arm again. “You ready, angel?”

“Right. Yes. Ready.” Swallowing heavily, Aziraphale gave Anthony a nod and then climbed slowly out of the car.

He’d barely put his foot on solid ground when he heard the door of the manse swing open. Then, running around the corner, came Edith Clark. She passed Anthony without so much as a nod and went straight to Aziraphale, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him close as she could. After 6,000 years as nobody’s child, he still found the sensation odd on occasion, but it was nice to have a mother. 

She held him until the desire to look at him properly forced her to step back. She reached up, cupping his face in her hands, and smiled at him like he were a miracle just for being there. Despite the warm and brilliant smile she wore, there were tears in her eyes. “Oh, Ez—honey, I’m so, so, so happy to have you home.”

He had no chance to respond before he was being embraced once more by plump arms. Over Edith’s head, he could see Anthony leaning lazily against the minivan and watching them. He seemed amused. 

“I’m… I’m happy to be home. Truly Mother, I am.” It felt true when he said it, even if he wasn’t as certain as his words implied. He added something he was surer of, “It’s wonderful to see you.”

She’d stepped back, and it gave him a better look at her. They’d seen each other occasionally in the past five years, always her coming to see him, yet he was still surprised to notice she was older. Edith’s once purely dark brown hair was now more gray than anything else and there were wrinkles she hadn’t possessed five years ago. Still, she looked well, far better than she had in the year or so after their falling out. She’d gained back the weight she’d lost so quickly then, and the rosiness had returned to her cheeks, especially out in the cold without her coat.

He looked further down. “Mother! You’re in your stocking feet; you must be freezing!”

Edith glanced down too, and let out a noise that was part laugh and part sob. “I didn’t even notice. I was just so excited. Oh, Ez, you’re home!”

Then, unsurprisingly, he was being hugged once more. In all the years he’d known her, Aziraphale did not think he’d ever seen her so happy.

“Geeze, Edith, you’re going to squeeze the life out of him. Then the whole drive would have been a waste of gas.” Anthony’s words distracted her for a moment. She let go of Aziraphale and went to hug Anthony.

“Oh, Tony, thank you so much. Thank you for bringing him home!” They were weightier words than they might have seemed. It was not just that Anthony had offered to make the drive to the airport, it was the fact that, as all three of them were aware, Aziraphale would not have come home if he weren’t there. Edith might not have known they were dating, but she didn’t need to. She knew how much they cared for one another either way. 

Aziraphale mouthed a ‘thank you’ of his own to Anthony. As much as he appreciated a motherly embrace, he was overwhelmed and he needed a moment to breathe. Anthony had recognized that.

And it was a good thing he’d gotten his moment too, as he heard the manse door open and shut once again—this time it was Elijah Clark who rounded the corner.

The last time they’d seen each other had been four years ago, when Anthony was just sixteen. It had been an eternity of growth for everyone gathered, and Elijah had changed as much as any of them. His hair was far whiter than his wife’s, the original blonde all but gone. He was thinner than he’d been once and there were bags beneath his eyes, although that might have been the result of just one night’s poor sleep. Aziraphale had to imagine Elijah was just as anxious about this reunion as he was himself.  

Elijah had never been a nervous man. He’d always possessed the sort of confidence that came from being certain of how the world worked and your place in it. He did not have that anymore. Instead he walked slowly, hands by his side clenching and unclenching as though he did not know what to do with them. Even his smile was fluttering and uneven; he kept opening his mouth and closing it again, searching for his words. He’d look at Aziraphale and then drop his eyes to the side or his feet, like an ashamed child expecting punishment.

It was only when he was close enough to hold out his hand that he forced himself to meet Aziraphale’s gaze. “It’s good to have you home, Ezra.”

Aziraphale took the offered hand, uncertain if this was the start of a hug or something more stilted and business like. He supposed he ought to say something. “It’s, er, it’s good to see the old place.”

With a sudden and unexpected determination, Elijah pulled him forward into a quick hug—the awkward, overly masculine sort that came with a pat on the back. When they parted, Elijah kept a fatherly hand on Aziraphale’s upper arm. “I, uh, I hope it can feel like home again. At least for a little while.”

“It’s not his fault it ever stopped feeling like home,” said Anthony, voice dripping with venom. Aziraphale had not looked at him since Elijah’s arrival, and was perhaps more surprised than he should’ve been to see that hate in Anthony’s eyes. 

Aziraphale was still frustrated with Elijah, still somewhat angry with him, but Anthony looked like he was seriously considering punching Elijah in the jaw. Or at least following him around and undermining everything he said for the rest of the evening. 

“Well, uh, you’re right, Tony. It is my fault and I’m hoping, well, I’m hoping that I can help make it feel like home again. To at least try fixing some of the damage I’ve done. I really am sorry, Ez.” And then, because he didn’t know what else to say he repeated his very first comment. “It’s good to have you home.”

Aziraphale was not prepared to jump into the deep end. He was content to inch his way along. So, sweet as it was that Anthony wanted to rush out in his defense, it wasn’t particularly helpful just now. 

“It’s all…” He trailed off. He’d been going to say ‘water under the bridge’ but it wasn’t, nor should it have been. Healing might be possible, but there would always be a scar. Aziraphale tried again, “Well, I’m hoping it can feel like home again too, even if it does take some time.”

Edith cut through the discomfort, “The best way to start is to get us all in out of the cold! Come on, Elijah, let’s help him with his bags. Tony, are you going to stay for dinner?”

Anthony looked toward Aziraphale, searching for an answer. Aziraphale shook his head. He’d be all right now, on his own, and he didn’t think he had the energy to break up the fights Anthony evidently wanted to start with Elijah. Besides, if it was just Aziraphale and the Clarks it would be easier to make excuses to go up early to bed and get his head on straight. A guest in the house would make that more difficult.

Anthony respected the head shake and bowed out. “Nah, I’m sure Ezra’s exhausted. I should be getting home.”

God bless him, he’d even laid the groundwork for Aziraphale’s eventual retreat. He was perfect.

“Alright then. When you get home, ask your mom if she’d like to come for dinner tomorrow. We can get Friday night pizza like we used to when you boys were in school,” Edith told him. She glanced at the car and gasped, “Oh, Tony, do you need one of us to drive you home?”

“ ‘sfine. I can walk. It’s not that far and I’ve been cooped up driving all day, I could use the exercise.” 

The sun had nearly set, and the temperature had dropped precipitously. Anthony, in the same leather jacket Aziraphale had seen him wear in August, was not dressed for December. Aziraphale pulled off his own tartan scarf and went to him, reaching up to wrap it around his neck. “Wouldn’t want you catching your death on the way home. You can give that back tomorrow.”

Aziraphale looked up from his careful work and found that Anthony was very close. He ought to be kissed, but they’d planned to keep secrets. Instead, Aziraphale hugged him, throwing in one of those platonic back pats while he was at it. Anthony reciprocated.

“Right, uh, guess I’ll see you then… man.” With that Anthony nodded to Edith, completely ignored Elijah, gave one last meaningful look to Aziraphale and sauntered off into the night.

Before he’d completely disappeared from view, the Clarks had picked up Aziraphale’s bags and were ready to usher him into the house. He was reminded of a night, over fifteen years ago, when they’d first brought him home. He’d felt out of place back then too.

Now, he followed them up the little stoop, across the welcome mat and inside once more. He took his shoes off in the foyer, as they’d raised him to, and then walked into the living room. It was here he got his first shock.

They’d rearranged the furniture. 

The television had moved into the corner. The armchair now had its back to the stair case. Instead of being centered on the front windows, the couch was now facing the fireplace. Worse, it was a different couch entirely. It was disorienting, particularly after the outside had been so unaltered.

Aziraphale stopped in his tracks, staring around at everything. Neither of the Clarks noticed until they were halfway to the staircase.  Elijah, standing on the first step, ready to heft up the luggage, quietly asked, “Everything alright, buddy?”

“Oh! Yes, yes, of course. I was just admiring the new layout.” He gestured artlessly at the room.

Edith gave him a small, sad smile. She seemed to guess the problem. “We’ve changed some things around, but don’t worry. Your room is exactly how you left it.”

It turned out unchanged was nearly as disorienting as changed. His room had been cleaned, of course—surfaces dusted, sheets washed, windows shined—but other than that he might have been stepping back into his high school days. There was the poster of Gene Kelly they’d bought for him during his middle school dance class years. There the shelves bursting with books that he’d accumulated throughout his childhood. There was the same desk, the same bed, the same chest of drawers, each in the same place they’d been the morning of the day he’d decided to be truthful with them. 

The Clarks watched as he walked into the room, running reverent fingers along every surface. They seemed to be waiting for his reaction. All he said was, “I’m surprised you kept it.”

“Your mother wouldn’t hear of anything else,” Elijah told him.

From that, Aziraphale could see the story. She’d kept it like this, like a shrine to him. First, perhaps, in the hopes that he’d come crying home seeking their help, and then likely as a self-flagellating punishment, forcing herself to glance down the hallway every morning and every evening and confront what she’d helped to ruin. 

Now, she had him back, no strings attached, and the joy practically radiated off her. “We’ll clear out so you can get yourself settled, Ez, and then we’ll have dinner together. I made porkchops and some brownies for afterward and… Oh, honey, you’re here!”

Another crushing hug and more tears in her eyes. He returned the embrace and said, “That sounds wonderful, Mother. Thank you.”

“Before dinner, is there anything you need? Anything you want us to get you? Any questions you want to ask?”

He shook his head and then paused. He did have one question. “Actually, I noticed the church is all decorated for the holiday, but the house isn’t. Is there any reason?”

Somehow, her watery smile grew even wider. “I was looking forward to all of us getting to decorate together.”

“She’s been talking about it since you told us you’d be coming home,” Elijah added.

“That sounds lovely,” said Aziraphale. Then, after one last hug from her, his adoptive parents disappeared out into the hallway and he had a chance to sit down. 

It wasn’t bad, being here again, but it wasn’t easy. It was complicated, very humanly complicated. They were operating in a world full of heavy feelings, full of spoken and unspoken hopes and hurts. It was all the sort of thing that didn’t matter from a grand view of the world. They were just one broken, little family, in one small town, in one small moment. 

But it all meant a great deal to him just now. 

Maddy Jay’s voice rang throughout the little house, “Tony, we’re going to be late!”

 “Hold on, Mom! I’ll be down in a second.” Up in the bathroom, Tony frowned at his reflection. There had hardly been enough time, after stepping out of the shower, to get his hair just the way he liked it. He reached for the can of pomade and added a little more, futzing with the front until he had more volume. He supposed most people spent less time on their hair after cutting it; this had not proved true for him. He studied himself again. It was better, not perfect. 

“Tony, we should have been there five minutes ago!”

Tony huffed and gave up. What he had now would have to do. He washed the last of the product from his fingers and then hurried downstairs. His mother was waiting for him in the living room, coat and boots already on, keys in hand. She raised an amused eyebrow at him. “You look great, kiddo. Besides, even if you didn’t, I don’t think Ezra would dump you because your hair wasn’t perfect for family pizza night.”

“Still want to look good,” he grumbled, pulling on his old leather jacket. He grabbed Ezra’s scarf too and, after a moment of consideration, he put it on. Just because he was returning it didn’t mean he couldn’t keep warm one more time.

“Are you sure you won’t be too cold? We can get your old puff coat out of the attic.”

“I thought we were running late,” said Tony. He had no desire to show up looking like a burnt marshmallow on a pair of black sticks. “We’ll only be outside for, like, two seconds. I’ll be fine.”

“If you say so,” said his mother, and she led the way out to the car.

The sun had set some time ago and it really was quite cold out. His leather jacket did a good job, for the most part, but he began to wish he’d at least grabbed a pair of gloves. He shoved his hands into his pockets while his mother unlocked the car. 

It wasn’t much better in the vehicle itself, and he hoped the darkness would hide the fact that he was sitting on his hands as the car warmed up. His mother didn’t notice, or at least didn’t say anything about it. She was too busy driving.

“You know, I almost can’t believe we’re actually doing this. I really thought, after everything, that we’d never have dinner with the five of us again. Hell, it was starting to feel like I wouldn’t even get to see Ezra again, with or without his parents.” Eyes flickering away from the road for just a moment, she smiled at Tony. “I guess I shouldn’t have worried about that though. You made it pretty clear that you’d be bringing him home someday.”

“He could’ve said ‘no’,” Tony insisted, feeling oddly embarrassed. “He almost did say ‘no’.”

“I know.” They drove in silence for a moment before she broke into a grin and said, “He didn’t though. God, I’m so thrilled for you, kiddo! I’m so thrilled for the both of you. I know you’ve only had the crush since seventh grade, but you loved him long before that. I can’t imagine anyone making you happier.”

Tony couldn’t either, and burned with the private joy of it. He had spent nearly half his life pining for something impossibly out of reach. It seemed unreal that he was, not only old enough now to actually obtain it, but had succeeded too. He was Ezra’s and Ezra was his and, better yet, Ezra was home again. They could actually be together. If he never had any luck in anything ever again, he’d still consider himself fortunate.

“Edith’s going to be over the moon when you tell her. Are you planning to tell them tonight?”

“Uh, no, I don’t think so. Ezra didn’t seem ready yesterday. He’s still trying to feel things out with them.”

Maddy frowned. “Even Edith? I thought things were going pretty great between the two of them.”

Tony shrugged. “I mean, things were definitely better, but they’ve only seen each other a few times in the past few years and none of that was for very long. I think being home sort of changes everything. I think it’s dredging up a lot.”

“Understandable. Still, I hope he decides to tell them soon. I think seeing how happy they’d be would be good for him.”

Tony said nothing to this. He wasn’t sure she was right. Maybe Edith would be happy, he was all but certain that she’d guessed his side of things long ago, but he wasn’t sure about Elijah. Tony didn’t trust him. Sure, he’d done his soul searching and come a long way from where he’d once been. It wasn’t enough for Tony. Edith had failed Ezra too, but since then she’d stuck out her neck. She’d stood up at church, put her teaching career on the line to push for change in the Westwich School District, joined ally programs. Elijah had done jack shit. He was pretending to be okay with all this, but Tony very much doubted he actually was. 

In the end it didn’t matter what he thought or what his mother thought. Elijah was Ezra’s dad, and Ezra got to decide how to deal with him. All Tony could do was support him and maybe give Elijah the stink eye whenever possible.

On Friday nights, the church parking lot was all but empty. Only the Clarks’ cars were there, parked in the back by the manse. Maddy pulled her own vehicle in alongside them, exactly where she used to park when she and Tony had lived in the small apartment up above the church’s fellowship hall. Those had been the days before Ezra had left for university, back when Friday night pizza hadn’t been so full of interpersonal politics.

How much their lives had changed was clear from the mere fact that Maddy knocked when they reached the front door. In the old days both the Jays would just walk in, no invitation required. 

Edith answered the door. “Oh, you’re here! Come in; get out of the cold. Elijah just got back with the pizza. We’ve got some plain cheese, some pepperoni, some veggie, and some olive. There should be more than enough to go around. I think I over ordered. I sort of forgot the boys are past their growth spurts!”

Full of a nervous, buzzing sort of happiness she helped them with their coats before ushering them into the living room. Tony had not stepped foot in the house since the Clarks had turned their backs on Ezra, and tried not to let his curiosity show on his face. It was all the same and all a little different. Changed, but not as changed as he was. It didn’t matter much. He forgot about his surroundings when Ezra entered from the kitchen baring plates.

It took all Tony’s willpower to stop himself from rushing over to embrace him.

Ezra lit up at the sight of the new arrivals. “Just let me put these down, so I can say a proper ‘hello’. There we go.”

As soon as the plates were on the coffee table he hurried over and, much to Tony’s disappointment, hugged Maddy first. He understood, of course—Tony’s mother had been there for Ezra when his own parents hadn’t and it had been years since he’d seen her—that didn’t mean Tony liked it.

“You’re looking well, Maddy dear. It’s so wonderful to see you.”

“Same to you, Ez. Although, I can’t say I’m surprised. I hear things have been going pretty good for you!” Then she winked. If Tony had been fifteen he would have wanted to melt into the floor from embarrassment. As it was he still winced internally.

“Yes, I suppose you could say that. Work’s going quite well,” answered Ezra, cheeks turning pink in a way that his cover story couldn’t explain. He cast a bashful glance toward Anthony and said, “Nice to see you again too.”

They didn’t hug. Apparently platonic friends, even extraordinarily close platonic friends, did not hug one another as a greeting when they’d only been apart for twenty-four hours. Tony unwound the tartan scarf from his neck and held it out like a treat to beckon an animal closer. “I brought it back.”

“Oh, thank you, darling.” Ezra stepped closer and let their hands brush together as he took it. 

Tony was a rock musician. Tony sang inuendo laden ballads at the top of his voice for crowds in the hundreds. Tony was dying at a slight touch of skin like a maiden in some Victorian romance novel. Perhaps his mother was right about telling the truth. He wasn’t sure how long he could live like this. 

Baring cups and napkins, Elijah now entered the room and whatever wonderful tension had been growing snapped, replaced by another tension that was far less enjoyable. Elijah spoke with a forced cheeriness. “Hey, the Jays are here! Your timing is perfect. I’ll just go grab the soda and the water pitcher and we’ll all be ready. Oh, and if someone could put a log on the fire, we could really get it cozy in here.”

Edith took the cups from him and he turned around to get the last of his listed items. Tony and his mother went to settle down, her on the couch and Tony on the floor like he had when he was a child. It wasn’t a bad place to sit, Ezra joined him, taking a moment to fiddle with matches and a Duraflame log. It might have been romantic, sitting together by the hearth, if their parents hadn’t been there and the room had smelled less like cheese. 

In the old days, Friday night pizza had been a time to catch up, to talk about how the week had been at work and school. What was suitable for seven days apart wasn’t suitable for six years, and no one seemed quite certain what to say. They busied themselves with pouring drinks and handing out slices and making sure that everyone was settled. Then a silence fell over them with oppressive weight.

Tony glanced toward Ezra, who was sitting primly at his side. He looked uncomfortable and Tony adjusted himself slightly so that their shoulders would bump. He reveled in the little smile this earned him. 

Edith, meanwhile, made a manful effort to put things back together. “So, Maddy, have you gotten all the decorations up in Maple Grove yet?”

“Yeah, the major lights are up around the welcome sign to the neighborhood and on the little gazebo in the common area. Got the lights up outside the door too. Some of the neighbors have come around offering to pay a little more if I decorate the outside of their homes as well, although a lot of the old guys get stubborn and want to do it themselves.” Tony’s mother was the superintendent in a condominium complex that catered to those fifty five years and up. It meant some of their neighbors needed assistance with physical labor and also that a lot of them would never accept it.

“That’s a nice bit of extra cash,” said Elijah.

Maddy jerked her head in Tony’s direction. “I let Tony take the extra jobs.”

This put Elijah’s attention on Tony. He ignored the glare and continued making polite conversation. “I bet the neighbors appreciated that.”

Tony shrugged. 

“Were you seriously working outside for hours without a proper coat?” Ezra asked. 

“I have a coat,” Tony said defensively. “It just looks dumb and I hate wearing it.”

“So you’d rather look good than be comfortable?”

“Every single time,” Tony told him.

Ezra smiled and rolled his eyes, “You’re a fool.”

It was grossly unfair that Tony couldn’t kiss him now. 

Still, their bickering had changed the energy in the room, and conversation seemed to flow more easily. They all talked a bit about work, about books they’d read, news they’d heard, shows they’d watched. Edith, off hand, mentioned some period drama on PBS only to discover that Ezra had been watching the original airing on British television. This exploded into such excited character discussions that Tony found himself sharing a moment of confusion with his mother and Elijah. He did not like that he’d shared a moment with Elijah. 

By the time their plates were clear and the only eating left was from people picking at bits of cheese stuck to cardboard still in the box, the room was almost comfortable. It was almost what it had been. Almost how it always should have been. 

“Oh, we almost forgot,” Elijah said, as one conversation chain came to an end. “Edith wanted to know if you two were free tomorrow. We’re going up to the Christmas Tree farm to get one and we hoped you could join us. We’re going to spend the whole afternoon decorating and having hot chocolate and just making a day of it. Would you be interested?”

“Sounds great to me. What about you, kiddo?” asked Maddy.

“Yeah, sure.” Tony could take or leave most of it, but it seemed much easier to have a moment alone on acres of land than in the Clarks’ living room. 

Then suddenly, Edith began to sob. There had to have been something that set it off, but from an outside perspective it seemed to come from nowhere. One moment she was sitting, smiling, rosy cheeked in the fire light, the next, she was crying so hard that she shook. More surprising than this was Ezra’s reaction. While Maddy and Elijah turned to comfort Edith, Ezra just tensed and sighed a little, so quietly only Tony caught it. 

It was unlike him. Tony had seen him offer a shoulder to cry on to total strangers, to see him sit with seeming indifference while his mother wept was strange.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” Edith choked out. “I… I just… I’ve missed this so much. I missed having everyone here and it’s so nice. It’s so… so nice. And I… I’m so sorry we ruined it for so long.”

“Edith, this is on me. I’m the one who didn’t value this enough, who was willing to throw out everything we had. I’m sorry. I’m sorry to you, I’m sorry to Maddy. We should never have put you in the middle of all this. I’m sorry to Tony. For everything we put you through. For making you feel like you weren’t supported. And, God, Ezra I can’t tell you enough that—”

“You can though,” said Ezra suddenly. His voice was overly prim. Too polite. There was an edge to it. “You have. Said it enough. For a good while, I think. Just letting the moment be, would do for now.”

The room became very quiet. Even Edith’s crying had diminished into sniffles. 

Ezra sighed heavily. “I didn’t mean to make everyone comfortable, it’s only that, I’d much rather have us try living what we have now rather than rehashing what we can’t get back.”

“No. Of course, you’re right, buddy. That’s a good point. It’s about doing better now, isn’t it?”

The silence returned. Tony did not know what to do with himself. He didn’t know where to look. This was not how he did conflict. He yelled, or shouted, got the feelings out. When he was quiet, it was usually a sign he was planning some sort of spectacular revenge scheme. This was just uncomfortable.

“You know what I missed?” said Maddy suddenly. “When we used to have ice cream afterward. I guess that was usually the summer, but I’m craving it now. Tony, if I give you the keys can you and Ezra go out and get some? We’ll clean up here and we can all eat together when you get back. Get toppings too, if you can find some.”

It was December. She didn’t want ice cream. None of them really wanted ice cream, but Tony jumped at the chance just the same. “Sure, you want to go, angel?”

“That sounds like a lovely idea.” Ezra was on his feet in a moment, and they hurried out, grabbing keys and bundling up as they headed for the door. Out beneath the night sky, Ezra sighed once more.

Free from prying eyes, Tony pulled him in for a hug. Ezra leaned in to the touch. “You want to talk about it?”

“Oh, let’s get in the car first. You’ll freeze out here before long.” Tony ignored the scolding. He knew it made Ezra feel better. Once they were both settled in, and Tony was guiding the car out onto the street, Ezra spoke again. “I can’t complain about how things are going.”

“Yes, you fucking can.”

Ezra rolled his eyes. “What I mean to say is, they haven’t done anything wrong. They truly seem apologetic. I don’t think my father is putting any of this on but… The last twenty-four hours has been nothing but either acting like nothing’s changed at all or profuse apologizing. It’s exhausting going back and forth between the two. And again, it does seem earnest. Mother’s always been an easy crier; she’s not doing it for attention or pity. It’s real. But it’s exhausting and I don’t know what to say. It’s not my job to make anyone feel better about it, but what else am I supposed to do?”

“Tell them to fuck off?” Tony suggested.

“Ha ha.”

“I’m not really joking.”

“Well, that wouldn’t solve the problem anyway. If I got angry, they’d apologize. If I wept, they’d apologize. If I forgave them mercifully, they’d apologize.”

Tony frowned at the road before them. He wanted to solve Ezra’s problem. Slowly he asked, “What do you want from them? Like actually, do you know what you want from them?”

Ezra took his time to consider this. “I’m not sure, exactly. I suppose to just face the fact that five years have passed. That’s gone and we can’t have it again and it is their fault, his especially, but the solution isn’t repeatedly self-flagellating themselves over it. It’s especially odd with Mother, who I’ve had perfectly lovely and frank conversations with before. It’s as though, when I were in London we could discuss things clearly and she seemed to accept that I was an adult, that actually supporting meant being okay with my flatmates and my life. And now I’m back here, and it’s as though I’m their teenage son again, only this time they’re aware of how awful they were to me. It’s as though they’re stuck in that moment and they want to fix it. But they can’t fix it! In that moment they failed. The only thing to be done is to pick up now and do things right now . And again, it’s driving me mad when she does it because I know she has made so many positive changes. She handled your coming out wonderfully, but she’s slipped back into reliving a moment. He’s just the same. And you know I…”

He trailed off and Tony reached out and squeezed his knee. “You what, angel? You can tell me.”

“I’m still angry! I thought I’d moved on too, but now I’m here and I’m reminded of how much was lost. Human lives are so brief. We have so little time on this earth to spend with the people we care about and to ruin that… to—to throw out what we had because I was attracted to the ‘wrong’ order of person, it’s so stupid. There were parts of tonight that were so lovely. We could have had that for the past six years and we didn’t and I’m angry about it all over again. It’s not an all-consuming sort of anger, but it’s enough that I’d like to be able to sit with it, to consider it without constantly having to field apologies.”

They’d reached the little convenience store that Tony had been aiming for, but he kept the car running and stayed inside it. They could talk here. There wasn’t any reason to rush. He undid his seatbelt and reached over to give his angel a hug and to kiss him on the forehead.

If there was one person in all this who wasn’t going to simply relive his role from last time, it was Tony. He’d only been fourteen when Ezra came out. He’d been on Ezra’s side, of course, but in an angry almost self-indulgent way. His fury on Ezra’s behalf had been so overwhelming that he hadn’t actually been any help at all. That wouldn’t happen again.

“I know I said you were nicer than other people yesterday, but you know you don’t have to be. You’re allowed to be pissed off, angel, even if you don’t think you should be.”

“But at this point, I’m afraid I’m being petty.”

Tony did not agree, but even if Ezra were right that didn’t matter. “So, be petty then. I know you can, I’ve seen you be a petty bastard before. I like when you’re a petty bastard.”

For some reason, these words turned Ezra’s lean against him into a full-fledged hug. The parking brake between them made for an awkward embrace, but Tony didn’t mind. Voice muffled against Tony’s shoulder, Ezra asked, “And how am I to be petty without tearing everything apart? I do want to mend things with them. After all, I don’t want to waste any more of the time we have together either. I just… I can’t seem to get past it all, the way things are now.”

“Honestly, angel, I think some of this stuff is normal. You’re all trying to figure out what your relationship with them is now that you’re an adult. I’ve been dealing with some of that stuff living back with mom. It’s just that yours is all messed up because there’s this big fucking scar to contend with too. So, I think some of this’ll get better just as the days go by.”

“This doesn’t sound like petty bastardry at all,” Ezra said sadly.

“I was getting to that. As long as your taking my awful advice, I think you should do what I would and mess with them a little. Take some of that power back, you know? Make them act on all those apologies, make them feel uncomfortable so that they don’t know what to say and they have to be the polite ones who keep the peace. You need to get under their skin in a way that drives them nuts but still won’t let them say anything.”

“This sounds like it will just make things worse.”

“If this makes things worse than all their apologies were lies and there’s no reason to actually try and fix things anyway,” Tony said. Curious, Ezra pulled back to look at him. Tony grinned with mischief, “Far as we can tell, your parents have come a long way on the whole ‘homosexual’ thing, but they still have some serious hang ups about sex just in general, right?”

Ezra nodded and Tony continued. “If it’s outside of marriage they’re not comfortable with it. Hell, I think half their homophobia came from the assumption that all gay guys are super promiscuous. They think, or thought, or worried or whatever, that you were over in London just fucking your way through the whole community.”

“I don’t see how this helps with my petty revenge. I can’t very well tell them about my ‘conquests’ or what have you when there haven’t been any to speak of… Yet.” 

In the dark car, Tony felt his face turn red. Yet . It took him a moment to think of anything but yet. “Right, but they don’t need to know that. What I think you should do is go out. A lot. With me. But, don’t tell them it’s me. Let them think I’m a different guy every time. Or let them think you’re going out with some absolute shit head they’d never approve of.”

For the first time since they got in the car, Ezra smiled. He looked a little mischievous too. “Someone they wouldn’t approve of like a leather jacket wearing musical artist with no day job?” 

“Ha ha. Very funny.” Tony said, unable to conceal his smile. They hadn’t kissed yet today, and now seemed like an excellent moment. They did so, before Tony added, “They might figure that one out.”

Ezra bit his lip. “It certainly is an appealing little trap, if underhanded. They don’t really deserve this. I’m being ridiculous. They might not even care, in which case it will be a lot of sneaking around for nothing.”

“First of all, if they don’t care, then great. Maybe they don’t deserve it, but then they won’t have cared and it’s no problem either way. And, anyway, at least it’ll give you the feeling of having some power in your court when they’re making things awkward. Besides, sneaking around is fun. What do you say, angel? Be a petty bastard with me? At least for a little while.”

Ezra looked at him in the dim light, smiling indulgently. “I suppose I deserve a little mischief for all this. Alright, let’s be petty fools together.”

Chapter Text

There was Christmas music playing downstairs, through the fuzzy haze of aging tape. Edith had those cassettes before Aziraphale had even been adopted. Every year she’d fetch them down from the attic after Thanksgiving dinner was over, and play them as they cleaned up from one holiday and decorated for another. Time had distorted them, but still they played on.

Aziraphale willed himself from bed, grabbing for his robe and slippers before the morning chill could eat at him. He paused before opening the door and took a steadying breath. It was a new morning, a new day, and it was time to try this all again. 

Last night had been uncomfortable, but it had ended decently. God bless Maddy Jay and her quick thinking. He’d needed to step out, he’d needed a moment alone to vent his woes to Anthony. And, in fairness, the Clarks had needed the same. It had been clear, when he and Anthony had returned bearing ice cream and toppings, that they had been talking too. Edith had gotten out her tears, Elijah stopped the constant apologizing. They ate their dessert with polite, if surface level discussion, then Aziraphale had walked the Jays out to their car and stolen another kiss, which had rather helped his opinion on the evening over all.

Still, he was hesitant to throw himself into the tension once again. Edith was downstairs now, cooking breakfast by the smell of things. It felt too much to hope that they could just talk like normal people, neither distantly polite nor picking constantly at emotional scabs. With a heavy sigh he told himself, “Once more unto the breach,” and opened the door.

Out in the hall the Christmas music was louder and the smell of bacon stronger. He followed them downstairs to the kitchen, where Edith was frying up pancakes while Elijah cleaned the cookware.

“Morning, honey! Just take a seat and I’ll have everything ready in a sec,” Edith told him.

Over his shoulder Elijah called, “And if you want to, take a look at the crossword there. I gave it a go earlier and didn’t have much luck. You’ll probably get it right away!”

“Oh, well, I wouldn’t assume that. I’m never much good at the actors and musicians and things.” Aziraphale picked the newspaper up anyway. It was a welcome distraction. It remained a welcome distraction as breakfast was served and they all began to eat. There was no reason to worry about the turn of the conversation when he could simply read aloud a clue and have them all debate it. 

Crosswords were safe and comfortable, and went rather well with bacon.

Unfortunately, Aziraphale happened to be good at them and, with Edith and Elijah there to name actors and athletes, it was finished before the pancakes. He was forced to venture into the minefield of small talk. “So, are Anthony and Maddy joining us here or are we all meeting up at the farm?”

“They’re coming here first,” Edith answered. “We can get two trees on top of the minivan, so  we can save on gas and all go in the same car.”

“Sensible,” said Aziraphale, although he was thinking more of the fact that this would spare the three of them from a half hour each way trapped alone together. He could handle anything if only he could make meaningful eye contact with Anthony. 

And that would be necessary because the day’s plans were already sending Elijah back down memory lane, and it would not be long before that led them to misery. “God, we haven’t cut our own tree down in years, not since… It’s just good to be doing it again. Good to have Maddy and Tony around. Good to have you back, Ez. I really…”

Aziraphale put his glass of orange juice down with a thunk. “You know, I was wondering what the plans were for Christmas Day. The old tradition was the Jays sleeping over, do you think they’ll do that again?”

“I haven’t asked yet, and I hope so, but I sort of doubt it.” Edith said. “Maddy came over for the last few Christmases, while Tony was on tour, but she didn’t sleep here. I don’t think even if… even if things had gone differently, that’s a tradition that could have stayed. The couch has to be a lot less appealing now that she’s in her forties and to be honest I’d always hoped, after she started dating again, that she’d find a man who treated her right. And Tony would get a stepfather and then they’d probably want to have their own Christmas morning.”

“I’ll miss having them this year,” said Elijah, leaning back in his chair. “Christmas has never quite been the same without Tony stomping around in his pajamas, dragging you around by the hand Ezra, and waking all of us up. Although, I guess he’d kind of outgrown that even before… everything.”

“You guess?” asked Ezra in disbelief. “We were all up before him that last Christmas. Did you forget?”

Elijah stared moodily into his coffee. “I suppose so. That’s not really… what I think of when I remember that year… I just end up wishing that I could change what I did.”

Aziraphale held in a heavy sigh. All the apologizing shouldn’t bother him, not when Elijah still had every reason to be sorry. But he wanted action, he wanted proof, not all this morose, pitying nostalgia. That, and he was starting to realize how right Anthony had been last night, when he’d said they were also navigating a new way of relating to each other. Here was Elijah still thinking of Tony as a child, it was likely he thought of Aziraphale in much the same way.

“Whatever choices you made, the same or different, Anthony would still be twenty years old and unlikely to be ‘stomping’ around his pajamas at seven ‘o’ clock in the morning. Based on his preferred times to meet up when he was staying in London, he’s become practically nocturnal. And that’s to say nothing of the fact that Maddy isn’t the only one who might want to bring some man round for the holidays these days. Anthony and I are just as likely to, don’t you think?”

He'd expected this to throw off Elijah, he hadn’t expected it to throw Edith, but both were taken aback. Shockingly, it was Elijah who recovered first, although he couldn’t quite manage eye contact as he did it. “Right, right. Of course, Ez. Of course. I mean, Tony’s still pretty young and, given his lifestyle, he’s probably more likely to be out sowing his wild oats. You though. Gee, is there… is there someone we should be expecting?”

“Oh, not currently, although I suppose it’s possible I might find someone before then. I haven’t had so much time off work in a good while, and I was hoping to go out and see if there’s anyone to meet on the, er, local scene.” He said it with an emphasis that he hoped implied a deeper meaning, although he didn’t really know what he was talking about. “I’m not necessarily looking to find someone to ‘take home to the parents’, mostly just a little evening company, but I suppose anything is possible.”

Aziraphale should have learned long ago to always trust a demon when it came to mischief. Elijah, who had rallied at the idea of a long term boyfriend coming home, did an excellent impression of a fish now and Edith, who’d been disappointingly cold to the first suggestion, was now frowning so fiercely she might give herself a headache. Anthony had called their weakness exactly and he’d called their response too.

Neither of them could complain.

“Oh,” Elijah finally said, voice strained. “I hope you have fun.”

“Yes, of course. You should have all the fun you want,” Edith agreed, but the little sigh at the end undercut her words.

They were not just apologizing, they were trying, and he was going to stick with this stupid bit of mischief as long as it forced them to keep pushing through discomfort. He would do it until they proved to him that he mattered more to them than their prejudices. Because, Anthony had not just been right about their reaction, he’d been right about Aziraphale’s. 

His mood was much improved by this petty little power trip.

Tony, his mother, the Clarks, and Ezra, were crowded together into Edith’s car. The CD version of one of her favorite holiday tapes was currently filling the minivan with the warm sound of hymns played on brass instruments. They all kept a close eye on the windows, counting the cars that rolled by with Christmas trees of their own lashed to their roofs. He might have believed it was six years ago, had it not been for his legs.

Tony didn’t fit in the back row. His knees dug into the seat in front of him and, no matter how he moved, he could not get comfortable. He ought to have complained back at the Clarks’ house, before they’d taken off on this journey into nostalgia. He hadn’t, because the last fucking thing he wanted to do was ride shotgun beside Elijah. Although, he wasn’t particularly enjoying himself back here either. It was hard to appreciate having Ezra by his side when all he could focus on was how much he needed to stretch. 

He grumbled to himself and tried to see if it felt any better to simply lift his knees up and sit curled like Gollum. This only succeeded in making Ezra frown at him.

“Is something wrong?”

“Oh no, this is how I always sit when everything is fine.”

Ezra’s frown deepened.

“I don’t fit,” said Tony, letting his legs down to better illustrate his point. 

Ezra immediately glanced at his own knees, just barely avoiding contact with the seat ahead of him. He turned back to Tony. “You poor thing, I should have noticed. That can’t be comfortable.”

“You should have asked to switch, Tony!” Edith called from up front. He was brutally reminded that the back seat was not really a place of privacy. “We’ll make sure you ride up front on the way back, okay?”

“It’s really fine,” Tony said. 

Ezra evidently did not believe him. Instead of dropping the discussion, he patted his lap. “Put your feet up here then, dear.”

Tony didn’t move, except to glance up front. They still had not told the Clarks the truth of their relationship and, as he’d learned from the brief second he’d gotten Ezra alone that morning, they would not be telling them any time soon. He supposed there wasn’t anything definitively nonplatonic about putting his feet in Ezra’s lap. So he did it.

The Clarks did not react. Tony’s mother did, however, she turned to look from the center row and smiled knowingly at them. Ezra did not notice. He was staring out the window, absentmindedly petting Tony’s calf. That feather-light touch made the hair on Tony’s arms prickle. He could think of nothing else.

“Oh, another tree. I think that’s number fifteen!” Elijah announced, just like he had every good Christmas of Tony’s childhood. 

Yes, it could have been six years ago, had it not been for Tony’s legs.

The parking lot at the top of ‘Candy Cane Hill’ was full to bursting with cars, some from as far away as New York. It was colder up here than it had been back at the house, and Tony knew he would soon regret grabbing his leather jacket again instead of something just that extra bit warmer. He wasn’t regretting it just yet though. He was still quite warm from the car ride.

“You’re looking a bit red, dear,” Ezra commented as they walked together behind their parents. His smile wasn’t very wide, but there was an edge to it that made it very clear that he knew what he’d done.

“Shut up, angel,” said Tony.

They passed from the parking lot, walking beneath a large wooden cut out of two crossed candy canes onto the farmland itself. Acres of trees lay before them, turning the brown winter hills into a sea of green. In the years that they had celebrated alone, Tony and his mother had always gotten their tree from the garden center where she’d once worked. Although he would never have admitted it, he’d missed this. Maybe it was simply because of the tradition, or maybe because it gave the holiday an extra air of importance, or maybe it was the way Ezra’s cheeks turned pink in the cold; there was no telling. 

For this moment though, he wasn’t totally hating having the old patchwork family unit back together.

They paused only long enough to pick up a saw from a young woman working by the entrance. Then, together, they made their way along the wood chip path through the trees. Elijah addressed the group. “If anyone sees a good cluster of trees and is ready to head off the path, just say so. We always used to go further up the hill, but we don’t necessarily need to. There’s plenty of nice trees around here.”

Tony glanced at the crop they were currently passing and wrinkled his nose. “Nice? They’re Blue Spruce. You can’t have a Blue Spruce Christmas tree.”

“Why on earth not?” Ezra asked him. 

“They’re blue. They’re off theme. They had one job, to be green, and they failed at it.”

“They’re still green. They’re just a bluish sort of green. I’m not saying we need to take one home, but I don’t think it’s fair to leave them out of the running entirely. Poor things.”

“Poor things,” Tony repeated. He thought he did Ezra’s accent rather well. “Angel, they’re trees. They’re not listening.” 

“They could be.” They most certainly weren’t, as they had left the Blue Spruce some ways back and were now passing the white pines (which had the decency to actually be green).

Tony was just deciding how next to insult the Blue Spruce and continue the debate, when Edith interrupted. She’d been looking over at them and frowning for most of the conversation. “Boys, you really don’t need to fight. Each household is getting its own tree, so you don’t have to agree.”

“Don’t worry about them, honey. They’ve always argued like that and it never hurt their friendship any. Has it, boys?” Elijah gave them a smile. He was right, but Tony didn’t want to agree with him.

Neither, apparently, did Ezra. At least not without stirring the pot. “Yes, and now that we’re both out we can freely and loudly debate interior design, as is our right.”

Tony let out a barking laugh. He was very much enjoying the look on Elijah’s face. His first instinct had clearly been to look around and see if anyone had heard, but he stopped himself before his head had turned more than an inch and he stood now with a polite smile frozen on his face. 

“It’s alright, Father. You can breathe. It was a joke.”

“Yeah,” added Tony. “It’s clearly a joke; Ezra doesn’t fit that stereotype at all. He’s shit at interior design.”

Ezra smacked his shoulder. “Some of us don’t sacrifice practicality for aesthetic purposes. Speaking of which, we ought to continue before you freeze to death in your fingerless gloves and skinny jeans.”

“Great point, Ez!” Maddy said. “We’re near the Douglas Firs now. Does anyone have an agenda against those or can we take a closer look?”

The rest of the group nodded and the Clarks heading off into the closest copse of trees to look around. Before she followed them, Maddy turned to Tony and Ezra. “I’ll keep them busy for a little; go walk around and get your flirting out.”

“I thought you didn’t approve of us hiding our relationship?” Tony said.

“I don’t, but it’s Ezra’s decision and I like seeing the two of you happy. Speaking of which,” and here she turned to Ezra, “I haven’t gotten to be excited about this in person with you!”

Before he could respond, Maddy gave Ezra a squeeze and then reached up to put her hands on his shoulders. “I’m thrilled that the two of you are together. I mean it, Ez. I couldn’t wish for a better person for my son.”

Ezra swallowed heavily, eyes glassy with tears. “Thank you. I—er… Just, thank you.”

“No. Thank you. Now, you two go have fun.” Then, she waved them toward a group of trees across the path before turning to walk away.

Ezra was clearly choked up, as they disappeared together amongst the evergreens. When he’d regained himself he said, “She really is a wonderful woman, your mother. Although, I didn’t know she didn’t approve of our keeping secrets…”

“Are you surprised?”

“No…” Ezra admitted. “I suppose not. I just don’t like disappointing her. She’s never been anything but accepting and wonderful. Right now, she’s nothing but accepting and wonderful.”

He reached out for one of Tony’s hands, so that he could hold it as they walked together. Ezra was wearing thick woolen gloves and they were soft on Tony’s uncovered finger tips. “Don’t worry about her. As soon as she finds out about the extra lying and sneaking around part, she’s going to blame me and assume I led you astray.”

“It was your plan,” Ezra said. He had a way of looking up at Tony, sometimes, where he’d keep his head tilted down and simply peer through his eyelashes. He did so now and Tony’s heart flipped. He stopped walking and tugged back on Ezra’s hand.

“I haven’t gotten to kiss you today.”

“Anthony, there are people about with small children, we can’t just snog.” 

“Don’t want to snog.” He did, actually, but that wasn’t what he was asking for. “I just want a kiss.”

Ezra looked about, furtively, waiting until a family passed by, before reaching up to wrap his arms around Tony’s neck. For his part, Tony held Ezra around the waist and leaned down toward him. The cold left him as their lips touched, as though Ezra were all the warmth in the world. To Tony’s delight, it was Ezra who tried to deepen things, who reached his hand up and ran his fingers through Tony’s hair.

It meant Tony got to be the one to pull back and grin cheekily at him. “I thought you said we shouldn’t be snogging?”

“We weren’t,” said Ezra, avoiding Tony’s eyes. “And you really should be wearing a hat. If you don’t take better care of yourself, I’m going to knit you the same silly hat and scarf I gave you when you were five.”

Tony shrugged. “I could pull it off.”

“Oh, hush. Let’s go look for a tree.”

Despite being surrounded by them, this proved to be a difficult task. The trees were all too fat or too thin, or too short or too tall, or had a sparse spot on one side that Ezra said ‘simply wouldn’t do’. They were still a long way from choosing one when Maddy found them again.

“Ezra, your parents think they’ve found the one, but they want you to take a look at it.” She jerked her head for them to follow. 

“Have you found one for our house?” Tony asked as they walked along.

She shook her head. “I figured we could get one of the smaller ones that they sell down in ‘Santa’s Village’. We only have so much space in the living room. Ah, there they are.”

The Clarks waved from where they stood, protectively, by their discovery. The tree had a good shape to it, just the sort that you would expect to see on a Christmas card. When they approached, Ezra gave it the full once around, checking for bare spots and brown needles, although the Clarks were certain to have done that already.

“Do you like it?” Edith asked him.

With more seriousness than the situation deserved, Ezra nodded. “Yes, just perfect.”

 “Great!” said Elijah. “Then let’s cut her down.” 

In the old days, it had always been Elijah’s job to do the sawing. Tony had never given this any thought; it was just the way things were. But, as Elijah knelt down with a few grunts and groans, Tony became suddenly aware that the reverend was getting older. He wasn’t old, Tony knew that. Still, 53 wasn’t 38, and Elijah had aged hard in the last five years. Almost drowning in your own prejudice would do that to a person, and working through those issues wouldn’t give you the time back.

Ezra, apparently, was thinking the same thing. “Father, would you like help? One of us could do it.”

Elijah stopped, in the middle of laying himself down on the earth. At first he seemed offended, “I can do it. It’s fine.” Then he looked at Ezra’s worried face and sighed. “If you want to, buddy. You can.”

“It’s no trouble,” Ezra insisted. Although, once Elijah was back on his feet, it became clear that it was, in fact, trouble. Ezra had a very nice, fawn colored, coat on. He looked at the dirt, clear consternation on his face, even as he reached out to take the saw from Elijah.

It simply couldn’t stand. Tony grabbed the saw instead, and plopped himself down with the ease of twenty-year-old limbs and an air of reckless abandon. He made a few attempts at finding a good angle and then attempted to saw through. He wasn’t very good at it. He’d chosen the angle poorly, his position awkward, and he had skinny, useless, noodle arms to work with.

“Dear, I can take a turn if you’d like?” Ezra called from above. All Tony could see was tree branches and feet. 

“I’m fine,” Tony told him, and he forced himself to try even harder. He knew, perfectly well, that this was not a difficult task. He also knew that the most intelligent choice for completing it was not himself, Ezra, or Elijah. It was his mother. She was a better size for it, and did more physical labor than any of the rest of them on a regular basis.

Yet, somehow, the stupid act of sawing through a piece of wood no more than eight inches in diameter, had become some sort masculine proving ground. Elijah had ceded the chore to the next generation and now one of them had to take up the mantel. Ezra was capable, but Tony wasn’t about to let his angel get his coat dirty if he didn’t want to.

So, although he was uncomfortable and his arm was sore and his entire world smelt like evergreen, Tony persisted to his very slow victory. The amount of pride he felt when the tree finally fell was embarrassing. 

It was only multiplied when he got to his feet and Ezra batted his eyes and said, “Thank you.”

There was a bonfire down in ‘Santa’s Village’, stoked by the cast off bits from bundled up trees. It smelt, as all outdoor fires smelt, of eons past, of other times and other places. Aziraphale stood close by, enjoying the warm glow it cast on his face and the press of Anthony against his side. The poor fool had insisted on, not only cutting down the tree, but on carrying it down entirely on his own. His fingers were cracked from cold and a thousand little cuts from pine needles, and he held them up to the fire as though it might heal him. He was exhausted and his jacket was covered in dirt and sap, but he seemed grimly pleased with himself.

The silly thing had been showing off, protecting Aziraphale from mild inconvenience. He deserved to be kissed and Aziraphale would have to find a moment later when Anthony could be properly rewarded. Just now, however, Maddy and Elijah were returning from the car, recently parked in the lower lot. Maddy had chosen the Jays’ much smaller tree, and he’d been helping her to get it appropriately tethered to the roof. From the other direction came Edith, with a tray of cocoa and cookies from the nearby canteen.

They all met together by the fire, where Edith dispersed the treats. It was pure comfort there, bathed in warmth, with something sweet to drink and nibble. Elijah was complimenting Anthony on his great feat of average strength, the mothers were discussing holiday plans—it felt the way Christmas had in the old days, comfortable and uncomplicated. This was the feeling Aziraphale had been hoping for when he’d decided to come home. He was going to enjoy it as long as it lasted.

“I don’t know if anyone else is interested, but I wanted to check out the gift shop before we leave. Anyone want to come with me?” Edith asked. 

No one jumped at the offer, so Aziraphale handed what remained of his cocoa to Anthony and said, “I’d love to.”

He’d been short with his mother, these past few days, and it would be nice to have this chance to talk when he was feeling in more pleasant spirits. Together they left the rest of their group and headed into the crowded little shop a few yards away.

 There was hardly any room to move inside, stuffed as the place was both with visitors and all manner of odds and ends. Edith and Aziraphale meandered together peering at shelves overflowing with ornaments both hand-made and mass produced. Nearly all of it was twee and overpriced, but Edith always had a weakness for precisely that sort of thing. She kept pausing to squeal over little items and hold them up for Aziraphale’s approval.

She stopped longest at one particular tree, covered in rosy-cheeked angel ornaments. Aziraphale watched her compare them, some with harps and some with trumpets, some in white and some gold. “Are you planning to buy one?”

“Yeah. I want to get one for Tony.”

“For… why? It hardly seems his style,” Aziraphale said, although he found himself skimming the tree for any little angels in sunglasses. There were none.

“I don’t suppose you’d remember it, since you weren’t there. But that first Christmas when we were all apart, Tony got his revenge on us by sneaking into the church to steal all the angels he could. Do you remember me telling you about that?”

Aziraphale nodded. Anthony had been just fifteen. Aziraphale had appreciated the sentiment, but not the sneaking out.

“Well, ever since then, all the little Christmas angels make me think of him and how much he… he cares about you. Not to mention the nickname, which I’ve noticed he’s calling you again. Since you’re home again, it seems like the right time give him a little angel to remember the year we were all reunited.” She took an ornament down from the tree and held it up, comparing its round face and pale hair to his own. She smiled. “This one’s perfect.”

Aziraphale wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he followed her quietly through the rest of the shop to wait in the long line to pay. She’d been quiet too and when she broke the pensive silence between them, he expected it to be on the same topic of Anthony and angels. It wasn’t. It wasn’t related at all. 

“Ez, are you really planning to go out, clubbing and looking to pick up strangers while you’re here?” 

He was immediately on edge. This sudden bit of judgement had come out of nowhere. He frowned at her. “That’s what I said, wasn’t it?”

“Yes…” Edith answered. She wasn’t looking at him, just staring at the person ahead of them in line. 

“Right. So that’s what I’m doing.” Another silence fell between them, this one tense and uncomfortable. It all had been going so splendidly, he did not know why’d she’d had to go and ruin it. She’d been the one he’d forgiven. She’d been the one who’d changed, and now she was the one disappointing him. 

He could not fathom why. Everything had been alright between them when he was in London. But maybe the distance was the only reason she’d been able to accept him. When he was far away she could imagine him as a good adult whose homosexuality was mostly theoretical. Now he was home, and she wanted her little boy again, and he was refusing to fill the role. 

That had to be the problem. 

She wanted the little cherub in the box, not the man beside her.

Tony was not sure what had caused it, but Ezra’s mood had soured before they left the Christmas tree farm. He’d come back from the gift shop, mouth drawn, answers short. There had not been a chance to ask him what had happened, because Tony had been ushered to the front passenger seat and Ezra had gone by himself to the back. Tony had spent most of the ride home, watching Ezra in the rearview mirror and trying to read his expression.

Now they were back at the Clarks’ house and had been for hours. The tree was up and decorating had begun. Yet still, Tony had not had a chance to take Ezra aside. There’d been too much work, between getting down boxes from the attic and decking the halls. That and Tony had found himself in charge of the outdoor décor. Everyone else was inside and here he was, up on the roof hanging lights in Ezra’s gloves and hat. 

He was nearly done, all that was left was the oddly angled little roof over the foyer. He leaned over the edge, shoving hooks into the siding and praying that the last of the lights would be long enough to fill the space. There was a sudden sound behind him and he nearly lost his balance in surprise. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Ezra looking at him from his opened bedroom window.

“We’re mostly finished up in here, dear, and Mother’s making soup and sandwiches. Are you nearly done?” 

“Yeah, just a few more hooks. Just give me a sec.”

“By all means, take whatever time you need. I was rather enjoying the view before I interrupted.”

Tony was not certain what he meant at first, before he leaned back over to complete his work and realized his ass was facing the window. He flushed. He’d gotten used to flirting with Ezra. He had not gotten used to Ezra flirting back. 

His work complete, he ignored the ladder down to the ground and instead reentered the house via Ezra’s bedroom window. When they’d been younger, he’d sometimes imagined sneaking in this way. As a child it had seemed like a fun, cool way to hang out together after they were both supposed to be asleep. As a teenager it had made a good setup for fantasies. In reality, he needed a lot of help from Ezra on the other side and still nearly slipped on the top of Ezra’s dresser. 

Still, it wasn’t so bad falling into Ezra’s arms. Ezra apparently agreed. As soon as both of Tony’s feet were on the ground, Ezra was pulling him closer, kissing him deeply, the way he hadn’t wanted to in public. 

The open window remained forgotten by both of them, their world shrunken down to the feel of being pressed together. In the handful of times they’d been able to kiss like this, Ezra had never seemed so hungry. Now he pushed Tony back, sitting him up on the dresser. There was a hand on Tony’s thigh when they heard a peal of laughter from their parents downstairs.

The sound knocked them both back to reality. This was Ezra’s childhood bedroom. They were not alone in the house. They could be interrupted at any moment. Flustered, Ezra attempted to right himself, fixing his shirt, his hair, the window. He even began to fix up Tony, pulling off his winter hat and combing Tony’s hair with his fingers. It wasn’t making out, but he enjoyed the sensation.

“We really ought to head downstairs,” Ezra said, evidently deciding that Tony was now presentable.

Tony reached out for one of his hands, stopping Ezra from turning to leave. “Hey, before we go down. Is everything alright? Did something happen with your mom?”

Ezra sighed heavily. “It’s nothing really. She just… she’s so clearly uncomfortable with the idea of me dating. I’d… well, I’d thought better of her.”

Tony had too. She’d been good to him about everything and he knew she was supportive with the students she worked with. It didn’t make sense that Ezra was where she drew the line. Or maybe it did. “Do you think she’s uncomfortable with you dating guys, or with you dating just in general?”

“How is that different?”

“Because if it’s the first thing than she’s being homophobic and if it’s the second than she’s being overprotective. And, just based on how she’s been the past few years, the second one seems a lot more likely. She was never comfortable with you growing up.”

Ezra moved closer, so he could rest his forehead on Tony’s shoulder. Tony felt the heavy sigh that went through him. “I suppose the second is less morally objectionable, but it’s still frustrating to live with. For Lord’s sake I’m… twenty-five, she ought to let go.”

“When she finally got you back? Fat chance.”

This did not make Ezra laugh. He just looked up at Tony, miserable. Tony cupped his face and ran a thumb along his cheek, in a gesture he hoped was comforting. “Hey, she’ll get used to it. She won’t have another choice.”

“No, she won’t,” Ezra said with sudden firmness. “Which reminds me, when, exactly, were we planning on going out?”

Chapter Text

Aziraphale paused before the mirror to study himself. He looked good, he thought. It was his usual style, with just a few touches of difference. A newer waistcoat, no bow tie, but still his color scheme, still his fit. It was something his flatmates back in London had helped him pick out while teasing him mercilessly about Anthony. Tonight seemed as good a time as any to test it out. 

With one final nod to himself, he exited the bedroom, and headed downstairs. There were the Clarks, curled up together on the couch. It was a Wednesday evening, a work night for the both of them, and they were already winding down for the night. Edith was already in her bed clothes and robe.

He spoke as he passed, “Well, I’ll be off. Thank you again, for letting me borrow the car.”

“It’s no problem, buddy,” said Elijah, although the slight strain in his voice gave him away.

Edith muted the television and turned to Ezra just as he reached the foyer, “Any idea when you’ll be back?”

“Not a clue, but I wouldn’t wait up,” he told her. If he’d been Anthony, he would have shot her a wicked grin. As it was he just gave a curt nod and headed out. In the foyer he grabbed his coat from a hook on the wall and Elijah’s keys from a little basket by the door. 

There was no human on earth older than Aziraphale. The entire species was not older than Aziraphale, and yet he felt an odd bit of pride going out like this. Much as they may have wanted to, the Clarks had not stopped him, had not lectured. It was Wednesday night and he could do as he pleased, even staying under the roof of the people who had once raised him. Even after being on his own again for years, this still felt freeing. 

The radio in Elijah’s car began to blare Christmas songs the moment Aziraphale turned the key. For a second, he considered turning it off, but instead let himself hum along as he hit the road. He wouldn’t have minded an extended drive, but it wasn’t long before he was pulling up outside the Jays’ house. 

It was Maddy who let him in. Aziraphale had expected her, like the Clarks, to be quite done for the evening, but she was pulling on her coat as he entered. “Hey, Ez! God, it’s been forever since we’ve had you over here. I haven’t redecorated much, so everything is where you remember it. Feel free to take a seat until Tony is ready. He’s in the bathroom doing his hair, so there’s no telling when we’ll see him again.”

“Are you going out tonight?” Aziraphale asked as he settled himself on the couch. When she nodded, he added, “Do you have a date?”

“Nah, I haven’t gone out with anyone for a while. Just haven’t really wanted to, you know?” She finished zipping up her coat. “I don’t go every week anymore, but Wednesday night is still recovery meeting night. I like to go sometimes, just to make sure I keep on track and because I remember it was helpful to see people who’d managed to stay clean when I was struggling.”

“How many years has it been now?”

She did not need to stop to do the math. “It’ll be fifteen next June.”

“Oh! That is something to celebrate!” Aziraphale gave her his most angelic smile and she returned it.

“Your mom’s already been talking about making me a special dinner and inviting over the Holmes’ to make a whole thing out of it. I’m sure if you can visit then, she’ll let you help.” She paused, stopping herself before she headed out of the room. “Ez, is everything alright with you and your mom?”

He sighed. “It’s just, difficult, being home. I was expecting things to be odd with Father, and don’t get me wrong they are, but it’s strange with her too. We’re all sort of, figuring out how things work and how we fit now and how we’re meant to interact. My mother has a tendency to… to infantilize when she’s uncomfortable.”

“I can see that. She tried to listen to Tony’s album with me once. She couldn’t make it all the way through. Still, she tried.” Maddy grew quiet before asking, “Are you sure about this game you and Tony are playing? It just doesn’t seem like it’s going to make anything better not to be upfront with your parents about what’s going on in your life.”

Aziraphale squeezed his hands together and shook his head. “I have found that when it comes to Anthony, I am always better off being direct and honest. I’ve found the same with you. That hasn’t been my experience with them.”

“I guess that’s fair. Still, if sneaking around stops being fun, don’t feel like you’re stuck doing it. You shouldn’t be thinking about them when you’re trying to enjoy yourself with him. But, anyway, I should really be going.” Before she did, she shouted as loud as she could, “Tony! Ezra’s here. Have fun tonight at your movie.”

With that she left, heading out toward the backdoor and her own car parked behind the home. It was only a matter of seconds before Anthony came hurrying down the stairs. He skidded to a halt when he saw Aziraphale and stared appreciatively at the tiny bit of chest revealed by an artfully undone top button. Aziraphale felt very proud of that. He’d left his scarf at home on purpose.

Anthony’s voice was husky when he spoke, “You look good, angel.”

“Thank you, dear. I’d return the compliment but I think you’re already well aware of the effect you have on people.” Aziraphale smiled mischievously as he pulled his keys from his pocket. “Shall we get going?”

Anthony nodded for him to lead the way out, stopping only to lock the door. He really did look good tonight, and Aziraphale admired him as he sauntered toward the car. Last year, when they’d been reunited, Aziraphale had spent so much time being terrified of his own attraction, that he’d hardly been able to enjoy it. He was very much enjoying it now.

“Angel, sorry I couldn’t pick you up tonight,” Anthony said as Aziraphale pulled out onto the street. “I was planning to, but I forgot Mom would need the car.”

“Oh, it’s alright. We’ve got two vehicles, you’ve only got the one. Besides, my parents would have recognized Maddy’s car.”

“Still I… I wanted to rent something for the month while you were here. It would have made us less dependent on everyone else’s schedules.” 

Aziraphale could understand that. The only thing that had made him feel as though he were back in high school today was having to borrow the car. “Why did you decide against renting one?”

“Too expensive,” said Tony. Out of the corner of his eye, Aziraphale noticed him tense. Then he admitted, “That and, I’m not actually old enough to rent a car in Connecticut… I could rent in New York, but they have all these extra fees if you’re under 25. I’m talking like over fifty bucks more per DAY extra fees. And they won’t even let you rent the fun cars!”

Aziraphale tried not to make a face that showed he thought Anthony was adorable. He failed and Anthony glared at him. Aziraphale tried to change the subject. “So, are you looking forward to the movie? I can’t remember the last time I saw a silent picture at the cinema, I’m quite excited.”

“You saw a silent movie in theaters?” Anthony asked.

“Ah… yes. There are specialized cinemas in London. It’s one of the perks of living in the city.”

Anthony did not question him. 

Aziraphale adored the movie. He came out bubbling over with compliments for its actors, for the direction, for the music, for the story, for the clever little dog. He was so happy that Anthony did not argue, not even playfully, or to play devil’s advocate. He just smiled at Aziraphale and let him prattle on. 

They walked out of the theater, arm in arm. Aziraphale had no desire to say goodnight and split up. He was happy and he was with Anthony and he didn’t want that to change. He turned on the car, but let it sit there idling. “It’s not yet ten, I think my parents might doubt the excitement of my evening if I were to head home just now. Is there anything else you’d like to do?”

“I could go for a coffee. Want to see if we can find a diner? We can get dessert.”

That sounded just perfect. 

They were in no rush, happy to drive around with the radio off, enjoying one another’s company until they found what they were looking for. They were in the town over from Westwich, where there were plenty of diners to choose from. They waited until they saw one that Anthony described as “Just the right amount of greasy without looking like you might get murdered there.”

It was a quaint spot, not terribly busy, but with a few tired looking patrons sitting around at the tables. Deciding he did not care if they looked foolish, Aziraphale sat beside Anthony in the booth, with no one across from them. It was cozy, on a winter’s evening, to be pressed up beside each other as they perused the menu. 

“Would it be wickedly decadent to have hot chocolate and cheese cake together?” Aziraphale asked.

“Yes and you should do it,” said Anthony, with precisely the grin Aziraphale had envied earlier that evening. “Your parents think you’re out committing cardinal sins, might as well prove them right. They don’t need to know it’s gluttony instead of lust.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say there was a complete absence of lust. Just that I didn’t act on it,” Aziraphale whispered back. Anthony’s wicked grin did not disappear, but the rest of his face turned red. 

Their waitress took her time in finally coming around to take their orders, but Aziraphale didn’t mind. It left more time to hold hands and talk and make plans for the rest of the visit. “If we’re going to keep up this ruse, we have to make sure that my parents see us spending some time together, just the two of us.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re not going to believe I came all the way over here just to limit our time together to whole family gatherings. It wouldn’t be believable. Besides, don’t you want to spend some days together too? Or are you only interested in me at night?”

He’d expected this little inuendo to make Anthony blush again, and it did, but this time Anthony was ready. This time he took his turn to throw Aziraphale off balance too. “If I were only interested in things we could do at night, we wouldn’t have gone out to a movie and dessert. We wouldn’t be bothering with the romance.”

“Ah, yes, nothing more romantic than a greasy spoon,” Aziraphale teased back, pretending his throat hadn’t just gone dry.

“Two people desperate for an excuse to stay up just so they can stay together, looking for the neon lights that mark the only port in a storm. What could be more romantic than that?” 

Aziraphale blinked at him, caught off guard by the way those words made his heart flutter. “You know I… I sometimes forget that all that song writing means you’re a poet too. You’ve got quite a way with words when you want to.”

Anthony was merciless. “It helps to have my muse with me.”

Aziraphale thought he might discorporate on the spot. 

It was too warm a day for December and Tony wore his jacket unzipped as he followed his mother around outside. He was being company, not help, as she made the rounds of the neighborhood with a clipboard and checklist, looking at things like gutters, siding, and door paint. He was supposed to meet up with Ezra in about half an hour and he’d been too antsy to sit around at home.

“What are the two of you doing today, anyway? You didn’t say.” This was followed by. “Unit 115 needs a new railing.”

He assumed this wasn’t for him and only responded to the first part. “I don’t know. He said it was a surprise. Just told me not to drive over.”

This got Maddy’s full attention. She looked up from her list and raised an eyebrow. “That’s a weirdly specific request. Any idea why?”

Tony shrugged and shook his head. He’d been trying to figure it out since Ezra had told him yesterday and come up with nothing. “No clue. He’s never been big with secrets, at least not fun ones. This seems more like a me kind of thing.”

“Wow, you’ve been a couple for three months and you’ve already corrupted him!” She nudged him good naturedly with the corner of her clipboard.

He wasn’t entirely sure if she was joking. “If this is about the lying to the Clarks thing again, I’m telling you, he’s the one who didn’t want to talk about it.”

“Tony, I didn’t mean anything as deep as all that. I was just teasing about your bad boy persona; I know you’re my sweet baby at heart. I just kind of thought the idea of Ezra driving fast cars and wearing leather jackets was funny.” Tony did not respond, he was too busy giving this image the careful consideration it deserved. His mother misread his silence. “It really bothers you that I don’t approve of all the sneaking around, doesn’t it?”

“I mean a little,” Tony answered. “We’re both grown up now, it’s not anybody else’s business. I don’t bother you about your dates. I haven’t complained about the fact that you’re secretly dating Xave.”

“I’m not secretly dating Xave! We’re just texting. That’s it. We’re just friends.” She sighed when Tony raised an eyebrow. “But, anyway, I’ve already made my feelings clear so I won’t keep harping on what I think you and Ezra should do. You’re right. You’re both grown up. And, if you want to go see your grown up boyfriend, you should really get walking or you’re going to be late.”

Tony gave her a smirk. “You just don’t want me asking any questions about Xave.”

“I just want to get back to work. Now scoot.”

Tony did not scoot, but he did saunter off. She’d been right about at least one thing: He was running late. That would be fine, if they were just hanging around, but Ezra had something planned and for all Tony knew it was time sensitive. He’d have to run. Hopefully, not actually  exercising since he’d dropped gym class in high school wouldn’t be a problem. After all, he had the energy to make it through entire rock concerts. He could probably do this.

It turned out he couldn’t, not on his scrawny legs in leather boots. He cramped up after just a few streets. Wincing and feeling like a fool, he forced himself to continue. Now he couldn’t even strut properly. It was in the middle of this pathetic performance that a car pulled up behind him and honked.

Tony gritted his teeth. With his luck, it was probably some jack off he’d gone to high school with, coming upon him when he was at his worst. When he turned, he found that the world had actually taken mercy on him. In the car were the Holmeses—Tony’s neighbors and, though they were both in their seventies, friends.

Marjory Holmes rolled down the passenger side window and called to him. “Tony, are you alright?”

“Just pulled a muscle running. ‘snothing.”

Her husband, James, leaned around her to raise an eyebrow at Tony. “Running in jeans and my old greaser jacket?”

“I’m not, like, out for a run. I’m supposed to be meeting up with Ezra and I don’t think I left enough time to get there.”

“Oh, that’s just perfect!” said Marjory. “ We were on our way to Westwich Methodist ourselves. Hop in the car.”

Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Tony quickly complied. He scrambled into the back seat of the Holmes’ car, buckling himself in before either of them could scold him. “Why are you headed over there anyway?”

“We’re having a meeting with the Reverend. You remember Mrs. Jones?”

Tony nodded. He had never paid much attention to the grown up members of the church, but she he remembered. She’d gotten the Halloween party banned one year and he was pretty sure she’d organized an anti-gay group in the church after Edith had started supporting her son. Whatever she was up to now she was probably ruining something.

“Well, last Sunday she requested a meeting with the Reverend. She was very loud about it too, making sure everyone at the after service social hour could hear. The story going around is that she went in all prepared with articles and print outs on the UMC’s stance on homosexuality and gay marriage. She should have realized a long time ago that she’d lost Reverend Clark’s ear, but I suppose Ezra being home again made it clear, and now she and her group are trying to influence him again. I don’t think he’ll listen, but just the same, I want him to know that not everyone in his flock agrees with her and I’ve got my own documents to back things up. Church is a place for welcoming folks, not for sending them away. I was just going to go by myself, but James insisted on coming along. Said he had some things to say too.”

James Holmes’ met Tony’s eyes in the rear view mirror. “I know you don’t like church much, but if you ever want to come back, you should feel comfortable doing it. Besides, no one gets to talk about my boy like that.”

Tony had never had a relationship with any of his real grandparents. He thought the Holmeses more than made up for it.

Although, Marjory did have one major character flaw. She loved to gossip. “So, you’re going over to see Ezra, huh? I’ve noticed him stop by a few times since he got home. Is there anything new with the two of you?” 

Tony froze, trying to decide the best way to answer. He was saved by James. “Leave him alone, Marge. If he wants to talk, he’ll talk. Besides, we’re here.”

Before they’d come to a complete stop, Tony was already out of the car. “Thank you for the ride. See you!”

Not turning back, he hurried from the parking lot to the front door of the Clarks’ home and knocked. When that did not work, he rang the doorbell. When that failed he just decided to open the door and walk in, but it was locked. 

It wasn’t surprising that Edith was not around, it was early Friday afternoon so she’d still be at work. Elijah was undoubtedly over in the church, probably in his office waiting for the Holmeses to arrive. Ezra would be home alone then, possibly upstairs in his room lost in a book, dead to the outside world. If Tony climbed up on the stair rail he might be able to reach the roof of the foyer and pull himself up so that he could tap on Ezra’s window and get his attention. However, it would take a lot of coordination and upper arm strength, things Tony wasn’t entirely sure he possessed.

He shouted instead. “Hey, Ezra. I’m here!”

It was only while standing there, waiting for an answer that would never come, that it occurred to him that Ezra too might be over in the church. It was probably worth checking. Muscles still aching, he trotted around to the front of the building and tried the door of the Fellowship Hall. It opened and he let himself in.

The interior of the church was all decorated for the Christmas season, posters and Sunday school drawings on the walls, an artificial tree in one corner. Along the front wall was a folding table, piled with a number of donated goods for the church’s annual charity drive. This was how the church had looked the first time he’d ever seen it, at age five, and how it had looked at age fifteen when he’d last snuck in for a bit of theft. 

It felt very strange to be back.

From a small and increasingly outdated kitchen bordering the room, Elijah entered, a plate of store bought cookies in one hand. After a moment of clear surprise, he smiled at Tony. “Hey, you must be looking for Ezra! I just asked him to bring the Holmeses up to my office while I got us some refreshments. Come on, I’ll take you up to him.”

This was the first time Tony had held a normal conversation, one on one, with Elijah since he was fifteen. They’d spoken, of course, but mostly Tony had hurled insults or offered strategic olive branches. Without the usual tension, Tony wasn’t quite sure how to comport himself. He went with a surly shrug and said, “You really don’t need to guide me. It’s not like I don’t know where the office is. Mom and I used to live here, for fuck’s sake.”

“I know, but we’re heading in the same direction and it seemed polite.”

“Right,” Tony nodded, and followed as Elijah headed to the stairwell. The silence between them was uncomfortable, so Tony attempted conversation. “Is anyone staying in the charity apartment right now?”

“That’s not what we call it, but yes. A parishioner in his late fifties lost his job a couple months back. He’s not old enough for social security, too old for most places to want to hire him. He’s still looking for a job, of course, he’s actually out at an interview today. He’s staying until he can get back on his feet.” 

“Mmm,” said Tony, because he had nothing else to add. They were upstairs now, practically at the office. Practically at Ezra. He could let the conversation die now, the silence wouldn’t last very long. 

But Elijah paused and turned to him, still gripping the plate of cookies. He looked serious and a little uncomfortable, the way he had for all important conversations when Tony was a child. Tony braced himself for whatever was going to come next. If Ezra’s complaints were anything to go by, it would probably be another apology. It wasn’t. Not quite.

“I just want to thank you for always being there for Ezra. I don’t think I ever said that to you. You’ve been a better friend to him than I ever was a father and I’m happy to see you two getting along as well as you always did. I was a little worried, when Ezra started talking about going out at night and looking for… company, that maybe he was feeling lonely. But, I suppose that’s just a different uh, a different thing entirely. And it’s alright, I’m fine with it, he’s over 21; he's old enough to go out and make his own choices. I’m just, I’m glad to see that at least he’s still got that rock solid friendship with you. That’s more important than who he dates or whatever he's doing. He’s got the emotional support and that’s what matters.”

Tony trained his face into cool guy disinterest, terrified he might give something away. “Are you telling me or are you trying to convince yourself?”

Elijah gave a short, derisive laugh. “Both, I guess. And I want to be clear, I’m not bothered that he’s going out with men at night. I just, I’d like to see him settle down with a nice… man. Someone who respects him, treats him right. I worry about him going out. He’s not you, Tony. When you’re old enough, I’m sure you’ll enjoy wild nights out, but this is Ezra. I can’t imagine he’s happy that way.”

He'd gotten a lot right, while still missing the target, but Tony decided to only correct what bothered him most. “When I’m old enough? I’m twenty!”

“I guess you are, aren’t you?” said Elijah. He’d used that same tone over the years whenever Tony had protested that he was already eight, or ten, or twelve and certainly old enough for whatever he wanted to do. To Elijah, twenty wasn’t any different.

A voice, from down the hallway, caused both men to turn and look. There was Ezra, doing his best to politely extricate himself from the pastoral office. “It really was lovely catching up, but I must be going if Anthony is waiting for me.”

For a moment, he seemed frazzled but when he looked over and saw Tony his eyes lit up and he hurried toward them. “Oh, Anthony, I’m so sorry. They were telling me all about their meeting with father, and only just mentioned you’d arrived with them. I thought you’d text me when you got here, so I didn’t make sure to hang around the house and—”

“ s’alright, angel. When you weren’t there I figured you’d be here.” He decided not to mention that he’d considered climbing the roof before using his phone. Perhaps it was something about being back here after being gone for so long; he was thinking of the solutions that would have occurred to him as a child. “You ready to head out?”

“Yes, of course.” He pulled a set of car keys from his pocket and gave Elijah a small, but apparently earnest smile. “Thank you again for lending me the car. I hope I’m not being a nuisance.”

“Don’t worry about it, buddy. It’s not like I need it for work. Just make sure to fill it up with gas and you boys go have fun Christmas shopping.” He looked, briefly, as though he wanted to give Ezra a hug goodbye. Familial tension and the plate of cookies he still held restrained him; he gave a curt nod and a wide smile instead, then went to meet the Holmeses.

“We’re just going Christmas shopping?” Tony asked. That didn’t seem like much of a surprise.

“Christmas shopping of a sort,” said Ezra, casting an impish look in Tony’s direction. His eyes practically twinkled but he said nothing and began to walk away.

Tony followed him into the stairwell, reaching out to take Ezra’s hand once they were closed off from the rest of the building. Tony stopped him, pulling him close and kissing him deeply, until Ezra made a desperate little noise. “Come on, angel, tell me where we’re going.”

“No. I shan’t give into your temptations.” He was playing the virtuous one and Tony was fine with that. He liked this game. “I won’t spoil the surprise for you.”

Tony put his hands on the stair rail, trapping Ezra between his arms, as he kissed him again. “I don’t mind if you spoil it.”

“Anthony…” said Ezra, his eyes had gone half lidded and suddenly Tony did not feel that they were just playing around anymore. Ezra reached up, taking Tony’s face in his hands. Then his eyes widened as he caught sight of his watch. “Oh! We’re going to be late. We simply must get on the road.”

And he was off again, leaving Tony to rush along behind him, feeling as though his whole world had just been turned around. He wasn’t able to speak until he was buckling himself in by Ezra’s side in Elijah’s car. The running had made his leg sore again and that, combined with the cold, had knocked the growing lust right out of him. He was now watching Ezra smooth the creases out from printed directions he kept in his pocket. Tony found this endearing, much to his own annoyance. 

“Fine, be mysterious,” he said, when Ezra finally started up the car. “But does that mean we can’t talk at all while we’re driving?”

“Of course we can talk. What would you like to talk about?”

Tony hadn’t actually thought of anything yet. It took him a moment to answer. “Well, can I ask why you were over in the church? Are things going better with your dad?” 

Ezra gave this some consideration. “I suppose they are. I was helping him organize the donations the church has already received for the Christmas Eve charity event. I wouldn’t say things are comfortable between us, but it was easier to talk while we were doing work, especially the sort of work that I admire from him. That and he is trying. I ought not punish him for that.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Tony said quietly. Then he flashed a grin. “He does seem bothered about you going out though. So that worked.”

“Yes.” Ezra was unable to suppress his smile. “Although that’s one of the things I mean about him trying. When I got back from our date the other night, the lights were still on. They’d waited up for me, clearly worried. When I got upstairs, there he was in his bathrobe and I thought for certain he’d lecture or say something snide. He just asked if I’d had a good night and if I’d met anyone.”

“What kind of night did you make up?” 

“Well I… it made me feel a bit bad about the lying so I told him… I told him I’d met a young man I was hoping to see again. Which, technically speaking, was not untrue.”

Tony snorted. “Are you going to see this young man again or are we dropping the act?”

“Oh, I’m certainly seeing him. They were both just a little too interested at breakfast the next morning, made me feel like being a bit of a bastard again. I’m afraid I started describing what I most thought they’d disapprove of.” He suddenly looked very guilty and said in a quiet voice. “I might have given them the impression that I spent the night with an ex-convict with possible ties to the mafia.” 

Tony burst out laughing, his seat belt doing its best to hold him in place. “What the fuck? Why did you tell them that?”

“I didn’t tell them directly! I just sort of started describing someone who had some past difficulties with rules and worked for a large organization. It got out of hand!”

“How’d you get there though? Was this based on some novel you read or something?”

“Or something…” Ezra muttered. “Can we just drop it for now?”

“Fine. Fine. I’ll drop it.” Tony agreed, but he did not stop bursting into occasional peals of laughter whenever he thought more about Ezra and his wild lies. These giggles, however, were soundly knocked out of him when they finally arrived at their destination.

Ezra had just pulled them into the parking lot of a car rental agency—one which had the word ‘exotics’ emblazoned beneath its name. Tony’s mouth dropped open, before he could say a word, Ezra interrupted him. The whole time he spoke he stared blankly ahead, as though they were secret agents having a clandestine meeting “Do not get too excited. There is a man here expecting us, expecting me, and he might already be looking. As far as he is concerned I, a twenty-five year old man, am here to rent a luxury car for myself for the next month while I’m in the country. You are simply here to advise me and to drive home my father’s reasonably priced sedan. We cannot let that man suspect that, as soon as we are well away from here, we will be switching cars and you will be using whichever one you’ve chosen for the next month. And you will be using it very, very, very, carefully because they will not accept you on the insurance. Do you understand?”

It took all the years of stage craft he possessed for Tony to contain himself. He swallowed a whoop, turning it into a squeak. Then very calmly said, “If there wasn’t, potentially, a salesman watching us I’d show you exactly how thankful I am right now.”

Ezra turned pink and looked very pleased with himself indeed. “Merry Christmas, Anthony.” 

Chapter Text

The scent of baking cookies filled the Clarks’ kitchen, bringing with it memories of holidays past. Aziraphale sat at the table, carefully applying icing faces to little elves. Across from him, Edith was sticking M&Ms to tiny trees, until each was as bright and pleasant as the real thing in the living room. It was Saturday, a few hours after dinner, and they had been baking together on and off since morning. It was something they’d done together when he’d been small, something she’d taught him to do after 6,000 years without trying his hand at it. Nostalgia, a sweet aroma, and the sound of Bing Crosby singing in the other room had lulled him into a sense of deep comfort. 

There had been no arguing today.

“They’ve been engaged for years now, when do you think they’ll actually get married?” Edith asked. The current topic of discussion was Aziraphale’s flatmates back in London.

“I think the plan is to wait until it’s actually legal over there, and who knows when that will be. Atiku seems optimistic, but I don’t know.” 

“They could always come here!” said Edith. “Do you know if England at least accepts marriage certificates from other countries? I mean, Canada has the queen on its money and they let men marry each other.”

Aziraphale chuckled. “They are a commonwealth country, if that’s you’re getting at, but I don’t think that necessarily makes marriage certificates transferable. I honestly haven’t looked into it.”

Edith paused in her work, either very carefully considering the M&M choices for her current creation, or thinking very deeply about something else. “You should look into it. It might be important for you someday too.”

The thought of Anthony in a suit sprang to the front of Aziraphale’s mind, followed quickly by a little house with a garden. He shook himself. He didn’t even know how Anthony felt about marriage. For that matter he didn’t know how Crowley felt about marriage. For the most part, Aziraphale been very good about keeping his mind on his current life, on the life he was guaranteed going forward. Still, there was a hope that the end of their humanity would not be the end of them, and that would mean Crowley might not appreciate having their souls legally intertwined without his input. Although, it was ‘til death do us part’, so perhaps it would all be void then…

He shook himself again, “I think that’s getting a little ahead of things, don’t you?”

“You’re right. You did just meet this young man… It might not turn into anything at all. I mean, you’re going back to London in January; it’s not as though you’re likely to start something long term. Although you could—not necessarily with him. If you had someone you had a really strong connection with, you could make it work long distance. Not that that couldn’t be this young man, but… I mean, it’s only your first real date tonight, isn’t it? It could be nothing.” 

She sounded a bit too hopeful about that. Aziraphale pursed his lips. “Well, whatever comes of it in the long run, I hope to enjoy myself now. Speaking of which, it’s nearly 9:30 and he ought to be around to pick me up soon. I should clean up a bit.”

“Right.” She watched him as he stood and removed his apron, and he could feel her eyes even as he went to the sink to wash his hands. Then, for no reason he could fathom other than to fill the silence, she began to yammer about nothing at all. “I saw the cutest movie on the Hallmark Channel the other day. It was about a young woman from this big city coming home to this pretty little town. It was supposed to be in Vermont, but you could tell it was filmed in California. All the trees were wrong for New England. But anyway, she ran into this young man she’d known back when they were children. The actors had such amazing chemistry together. It was so sweet to watch them fall in love. I know they’re silly but I like those kinds of movies.”

Aziraphale looked over at her. She seemed oddly sad, sitting there talking about her favorite film. He could not fathom why, but it took the edge off his annoyance. He kissed her on the top of the head as he passed.  “You don’t need to call it silly, Mother. If you enjoy it, let yourself enjoy it. It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks.” 

“Thank you, Ez. Have fun tonight and—”

The thudding sound of incredibly loud music approached and kept getting closer. This was odd, considering the manse was back off from the road. Whoever was playing it had come into the church parking lot. Then a car horn honked and Aziraphale winced internally. 

Anthony was roleplaying the bad boyfriend.

He forced himself to smile. “I think that’s for me, I’ll get going now. Ta, don’t wait up.”

Aziraphale hurried from the kitchen, only to find himself embarrassed again. Elijah was in the living room, peering out the side window toward the car. It would be the rental, which had gone straight to the Jays’ house and had not been seen by either Clark. That and the headlights glaring in the direction of the manse would blind Elijah to any of the details. Still, Aziraphale did not want to hear any commentary. He rushed to the door. “I’m off, goodbye!”

Grabbing his coat and putting it on even as he stepped outside, Aziraphale hurried around to the car. From the side, he could see Anthony sitting there, wearing both his glasses and a winter hat pulled low over his brow. Of course. He wouldn’t wear a hat to stay warm, but make it a costume and suddenly there were no complaints. 

Aziraphale let himself into the passenger’s side, ready to complain about the show Anthony had put on. But Anthony looked so pleased with himself, so proud to have helped Aziraphale with his game. So, instead, Aziraphale leaned forward to give him a kiss. “Come on, dear, let’s get going before my father gets a good enough glance to figure out that you’re you. He’s looking.”

“Got it,” said Anthony and he put the car into reverse. Even this simple action filled him with an almost ludicrous glee, so pleased was he to be driving this new vehicle. 

It was not, as Aziraphale had originally hoped, a Bentley. This was not because Anthony hadn’t looked. He’d been drawn to one first, like a moth to a flame. But, while Aziraphale had arrived fully prepared to drop up a few thousand dollars, renting a Bentley had still been wildly out of his price range. They had wound up instead with a Mercedes, but Anthony was more than pleased with it. 

When Aziraphale had dropped him off at home yesterday, Anthony had nearly snogged him in full view of the neighbors. Aziraphale had only just barely gotten him into the house, before Anthony had him pinned up against the inside of the front door. Anthony had only stopped when Maddy walked in on them. He hadn’t even been embarrassed; he’d just wanted to show his mother the car.

 It was, by all accounts, the best few thousand dollars Aziraphale had ever spent, well worth selling off a book or two from the shop when he got home. He just hoped Anthony would take care of it, or else Aziraphale would be forced to sell off something good. 

“Have I told you how much I love this thing?” Anthony asked.

“You have.”

“I mean it. Almost makes me want to sell out and start writing popular stuff just so I can actually afford one. It would be stupid, since it’s easier to take the train into New York and I wouldn’t be able to take it on tour. Still, it would be nice.”

Aziraphale briefly considered telling Anthony that he was in possession of, not just a Bentley, but a classic one to boot. He didn’t. For one, he wasn’t entirely sure how to explain the fact that he was afraid to take it out from storage because it was currently protected by an old angelic blessing that he didn’t want to break. For two, he was afraid it might give Anthony one of those headaches he used to get when his mind came across something that nearly reminded him of being Crowley. Instead, Aziraphale asked, “So where are we going tonight?”

“Just a drive. We’re—”

“That seems more like a date for you and the car than a date for you and me,” Aziraphale interjected. 

“You didn’t let me finish. A few towns over there’s this holiday display thing. They’ve got it set up on a golf course and you drive through it for over a mile, I think. We can do something else, if that sounds stupid. But I don’t know; I thought you might like it.” He’d taken the hat off and was now running one hand through his hair, clearly nervous and failing to suppress it. 

“I was only teasing, dear. That actually sounds quite lovely.”

“Great.” He was all smiles again. “I thought we could stop and get some hot chocolate on the way there. Have it while we go through.”

“In this car I rented? Do you know how much they’ll charge me if we spill? I’d have to sell one of the Dickens’ to pay for that!” He was exaggerating. The whole car wouldn’t have been worth one of the Dickens, but he thought it got the message across.

“Alright then,” said Anthony. “No cocoa.”

The light show, when they finally reached it, turned out to be both more and less than Aziraphale had expected. As Anthony had said, it went on for over a mile. There was one display after another, some still, some animated, all bright, all cheery. But there was no cohesion to it, no grandeur. The only thing differentiating these displays from those he might see around the neighborhood was the fact that they were all together.

As they passed a dancing elf, Anthony let out a heavy sigh. “Sorry this sucks.”

“No,” said Aziraphale, “It’s charming. They clearly worked very hard on it and all the proceeds for entering are going to charity. I’m glad we came.”

Anthony raised one eyebrow and gestured out the window. They were now driving by a somewhat deranged Mickey Mouse, who winked at them. The radio, tuned to a local station that was supposed to fit the music, began to play an aggressive version of jingle bells.

“I’ll admit. I don’t entirely understand how Mickey connects to the overall theme of Christmas but—”

“Yeah, cause it doesn’t. None of this makes sense. We passed a Pikachu a while back! These people didn’t even try.”

The poor dear looked so disappointed in himself. Here he’d tried to do something nice and gotten them caught in a well-meaning, commercialist dystopia. Aziraphale longed to reach out and comfort and then, with a jolt of pleasure, realized there was nothing stopping him. He could simply put out his hand and pet Anthony’s hair reassuringly and all Anthony would do was lean in to his touch. 

“There now, darling. What was it that you’d imagined this would be?”

“I don’t know, exactly. Something classier, I guess. Like driving through a night sky, with nothing around us but darkness and pinpricks of light.” He shrugged. “Something romantic.”

“That does sounds beautiful,” said Aziraphale. “But you know, my favorite part would be the spending time with you, and I get that either way.”

Anthony’s expression implied he did not entirely believe this, but he did not argue back. He just kept driving slowly along with the line of cars, head tilted in Aziraphale’s direction. For his part, Aziraphale continued, very gently, stroking Anthony’s hair. What he’d said had been true; he was perfectly happy with all this. The lights were far more pleasant illuminating the planes of Anthony’s face, than they were when he looked directly at them. 

If this moment, filled with tinny music and a soft technicolor glow, wanted to last forever, Aziraphale would not mind.

Eventually they came to the end of the line and were back on the regular road once more. They took the feeling of contentment with them, riding in a companionable silence back toward home. They were nearly at the Clarks when the mood was disrupted. Aziraphale’s stomach rumbled. 

“Oh, apologies. Appears I’m a bit peckish.”

“You want to go get something to eat somewhere? It’s not like we’re in any hurry to get back,” Anthony grinned. “Gotta live up to my bad reputation, you know.”

Aziraphale ignored the wiggling eyebrows and answered the question. “I’m not really in the mood for a proper restaurant, to be honest. I was rather enjoying our shared solitude.”

“We could head to my house first and rustle something up,” suggested Tony.

“No, no, no.” Aziraphale shook his head violently. “I don’t think I’m ready to face your mother again just yet.”

“What? Why? Because she doesn’t like that we’re lying to your parents? She said she wouldn’t bring it up again.”

“No, because the last time she saw me we were kissing rather passionately in her living room!” Aziraphale could feel his face growing warm. “I know it doesn’t matter, but how are you supposed to speak to someone when they know you’ve been tasting the inside of their son’s mouth?”

Anthony let out a single bleating laugh. “She already knew we were together. It wasn’t a surprise. I mean, I think she was surprised that we were there, but she assumes we’re making out. Hell, she probably assumes we’re doing a lot more than that.”

Aziraphale’s stomach interrupted the conversation again. 

“Hey angel, if it’s nothing too greasy or likely to stain, could we just eat in the car?”

“I suppose, if it won’t stain. Did you have something in mind?”

Anthony spoke with the air of a man revealing something amazing, “All the stupid American junk you’ve missed over in England.”

Not twenty minutes later, they were parked at the end of the church lot, a bag of snacks between them. It had been idiotically entertaining, to act like fools as they wandered the aisles of a late night convenience store, searching for culinary nonsense. Presently, Aziraphale was savoring the simple taste of a graham cracker while Anthony popped a few shark shaped gummies into his mouth. 

They were doing nothing really, just whiling away the time together. In the old days, before all this, there had always had to be an excuse to be with Crowley. How nice was it to have no real reason at all and still to be together? How amazing to have limited time on earth and not mind wasting it so long as he had Anthony by his side?

The minutes slipped away from them, until they’d been parked for nearly an hour, talking of nothing outside the Clark’s house.

“You think they know we’re here?” Anthony asked off hand. He did not seem invested in the answer.

“Most likely. I’m sure they’ve been watching us the whole time, wondering what on earth we could be doing out here.”

Anthony grinned, mischief chasing away indifference. “Oh, I’m sure they’ve got guesses.”

Aziraphale gestured to the box of Cheez-its in his hands. “Well, they’re certainly wrong, whatever they’ve guessed.”

There was a moment of silence between them, before Anthony reached into an interior pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small container of mints. Aziraphale watched, with curious anticipation, as he popped a few into his mouth. Wordlessly, guessing where this might be going, he held out a hand. Anthony tipped a few mints into his palm.

“You know, just to keep up appearances, we really ought to send you inside looking at least a little disheveled. I mean, you shouldn’t look like you ate kiddy snacks and spent the night at a light show for toddlers. Might give us away.”

Aziraphale was very carefully putting all the snacks back in the bag. He gave Anthony a coy glance as he tossed it into the backseat. “We are dating, Anthony. You could just ask if you want to kiss me. There doesn’t have to be a plot to get there.”

“Right,” said Anthony. He blinked at Aziraphale then added, “Want to make out?”

Aziraphale frowned at him. “You could be a bit more poetic about it.”

Anthony lunged forward, grabbed one of Aziraphale’s hands and held it against his heart. “Angel, love of my life, I want to be close to you.” He was teasing, but he was teasing with such a deep look in his eye that Aziraphale found himself growing hot under the collar anyway. “I want to forget that anything in the world exists beside you. And I want to do that by sticking my tongue in your mouth.”

Anthony grinned, clearly amused with himself. Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “Oh, come here you ridiculous creature.”

He grabbed Anthony by the lapels of his jacket and pulled him forward, kissing him across the car’s stick shift. It remained teasing for less than a moment. Then Anthony was reaching up to push Aziraphale’s glasses onto his head and letting his fingers stay in Aziraphale’s curls. The kiss deepened and, just as Anthony had said, the rest of the world faded away.

That was until they tried to lean in closer to each other, and found the center console in the way. Bits of high end machinery stabbed them both in the stomach. Anthony pulled back and said, in a low voice, “Fuck it.”

Then he was out of his seat, climbing across until Aziraphale found himself being straddled by a lapful of Anthony. Good Lord, he was handsome. It was almost a shame to kiss again, because Aziraphale would have to close his eyes and stop admiring soft freckles on sharp cheekbones. But when Anthony leaned down, Aziraphale leaned up into him.

They had never really kissed like this before, at once passionate and languid. There was no reason to rush, nowhere to go, no one who would happen upon them. 

It was very easy to kiss Anthony’s neck at this angle, and so Aziraphale did, working his way down from Anthony’s lips. The sounds he was making, the way he squirmed beneath Aziraphale’s touch; why had he gone 6,000 years without this? Why had he held himself back for so long?

He lost himself to the sensation, to the human joy of letting himself do what he pleased. He let Anthony explore as well, tilting the seat back so that Anthony could have his turn kissing down Aziraphale’s neck and undoing the top buttons of his shirt. Another benefit to their position was that Aziraphale’s hands found their way naturally to Anthony’s hips and then around to cup his ass through tight denim. 

It was around the time that he’d gotten Anthony’s shirt pulled up and was trying to figure out the right angle to kiss the tattoo that started above his hip and ran intriguingly down below the waistband of his jeans, that Anthony spoke. “A-angel. How—how far are we planning to go?”

Aziraphale made an unintelligent sound and looked up at him. Anthony’s eyes were dark with lust, his lithe body quivering with it. They had never gone this far, together, or with anybody else. Aziraphale had not planned for this tonight. Much as he wanted Anthony, they had none of the supplies they’d need. Neither had thought to grab anything at the convenience store when they were laughing over candies. They hadn’t talked about this. Not yet. Not really. Aziraphale was an ancient being who went along at a snail’s pace. He had not thought he’d be here so soon. 

That and he really needed the deposit back on the car.

His face must have told the story he wasn’t saying out loud. Anthony pulled his shirt down. “We should probably say goodnight, huh?”

Aziraphale swallowed and nodded. “That would probably be for the best. For now.” 

Anthony took Aziraphale’s glasses from his curls and put them back on his face. The world around Anthony became clearer. Anthony climbed out of his lap, and the world became colder.

Aziraphale began to try and right himself, but Anthony reached out a hand and stopped him. “Hey, wasn’t the point to get you looking like your parents’ worst nightmare.”

“That wasn’t the point and you know it,” said Aziraphale.

Anthony grinned, a wolfish hunger still around the edges. “You can still use it though.”

“I suppose.” He leaned across the seats and pressed a chaste kiss against Anthony’s cheek. “Good night, darling.”

“Night, angel,” said Anthony. He watched as Aziraphale climbed out of the car, then leaned out the window and said, “Think of me tonight.”

“Wicked thing,” Aziraphale scolded, then he pulled his unzipped coat tight around him and headed for the house.

He looked a mess, he knew that. His hair had been tugged, his shirt untucked. Despite himself, he began again to fix what he could. He still looked debauched when he entered the manse. And, of course, there were the Clarks sitting on the couch, with a Hallmark movie on in the background. 

Aziraphale was a grown man. He was far, far more than a grown man. Still, he turned pink when they looked at him. Neither of them spoke as they took in the sight of him, although he could see by the opening and closing of their mouths that attempts were being made. They would remember how words worked eventually. He didn’t think he wanted to be there for that.

“Well, I’m exhausted.” Bad choice of words. He kept going. “I think I’ll head straight up. Enjoy the rest of your film!” 

He’d nearly made it to the stairs when Elijah spoke. “Hey, uh, buddy. You know, you can bring your friend in next time. We’d be happy to meet him.”

Aziraphale squeaked. “I don’t really think he’s the bring home to the parents type. Really.”

“Ez,” said Edith. “Maybe if he’s not someone you’d feel comfortable bringing home, he’s not someone you want to be with.” 

Aziraphale gave her a cold look before fleeing up the stairs.

The house was empty when Aziraphale awoke on Sunday morning. Church was just beginning. Wrapped in his bathrobe, he leaned over his desk and watched the late arrivals through the slats of the venetian blinds. The Clarks had asked if he’d like to go, on the first Sunday of his visit. They hadn’t bothered to waken him this time. That was alright; it meant they had listened. Or at the very least it meant they had respected the fact that he’d been out late last night.

Last night.

Aziraphale’s face flushed at the very thought. He stepped back from the window, all interest in the church goers gone, and sat heavily in the desk chair. Closing his eyes he could remember every detail: Anthony in his arms—in his lap, his hands exploring Anthony’s lean body, the way they’d kissed and tasted. For once in his life, Aziraphale had let himself stop thinking. There’d been no niggling little voice in the back of his mind whispering that he ought to be ashamed. There’d been no need to fortify his desires with loopholes and excuses. 

It had been wonderful, but now he had time to think and the worries were starting to creep in at the edges once more. He held them at bay, just long enough to fantasize during his morning shower, but by the time he sat at the kitchen table with tea and toast his concerns returned. It was all well and good to imagine how the evening might have ended if Anthony had not paused to make Aziraphale think, but it really had been for the best.

Neither of them had expected to go as far as they did that evening, let alone any farther. There were things they ought to discuss, items they ought to procure, there were tests they ought to have. He frowned at his tea. He wasn’t actually sure about the tests. Was that something one needed to do if they were utterly lacking in any previous experience? At the very least, he decided, that was the sort of question he ought to know the answer to.

Life had been so much simpler when genitals were optional. 

In the old days, when his fantasies had been he and Crowley, in the corporations they had long inhabited, he’d never needed to worry about all the little human details. It would have worked however they’d wanted it to. Although, he supposed, it would have been important to talk even in that case, just as he really ought to talk with Anthony now. Even if they had to stutter, red-faced through the entire conversation, it needed to be done before they… proceeded any further.

For now though, Aziraphale had the house to himself and a moment to breathe. Had he been in London, he’d get himself to the bookshop to clear his head, but that was not a choice now. Instead, he lit a fire in the fireplace, got his tea, got a book, and settled on the couch. It was not quite the comfort of the bookshop, but the drawn curtains, the flickering flame and the jolly lights of the Christmas tree created a different sort of joy. The only thing he really missed was his own ancient couch from back home. 

That was where Crowley sat and where, on occasion, Aziraphale pretended to speak with him. He’d hardly done it the past few months, not since he’d gotten the chance to speak with Crowley for real and not since he’d accepted just how much of Crowley still remained in Anthony. Still, it would have been nice to pretend just now.

He tried, but could only picture Crowley ruthlessly mocking the Precious Moments™ creche on the mantel. So, Aziraphale returned his attention to The Cricket on the Hearth . He was still there, nose in his book when the front door opened. He paid it little mind. Without bothering to look up he called out, “Welcome back.”

It was not one of the Clarks who responded. “Ezra, hello again! How are you this morning?”

He sat up and turned his head in surprise. Edith and Elijah had arrived home, but they’d brought the Holmeses with them. Aziraphale was grateful he’d taken a shower that morning, or he’d still have been wearing his bed clothes.

“Oh, hello. I didn’t know you were coming over today. Are you staying for lunch?” He asked, scrambling up from his seat and going to open the curtains. It seemed rude to invite them into the little cave he’d created.

“That’s the plan!” said James. “The pastor just invited us over.”

“I thought we could have the Jays come too!” said Edith. “I just sent Maddy a text and she said they’d be over as soon as she can have Tony up and ready. Apparently he’s still asleep.”

Aziraphale was not surprised. Anthony had been out late last night. 

“That sounds like a lovely way to spend the afternoon.”

“Great. Do you think you could come help me in the kitchen?”

Aziraphale hesitated, thinking it might be more pleasant to stay in the room with the fire and listen to the Holmeses talk Elijah’s ear off. Between the two of them, Aziraphale wouldn’t need to engage in any small talk of his own. But, however uncharitable he was feeling towards her, it was flatly unfair to leave Edith to make all preparations herself. He nodded and followed her to the other room. 

It turned out he didn’t have to speak much in here either. Edith rambled about the day at church as she busied herself around the kitchen, fetching pot and pans, cans of soup, and cold cuts out from the fridge. Aziraphale had still not got a word in edgewise when she turned from the church service to the work at hand. “There isn’t time to make anything fancy, but I thought we could put some soup onto warm and fill some crescent rolls with meat and cheese. They should puff right up and be warm and gooey by the time the Jays get here. You boys used to love that, do you remember? It was one of the only things Tony really liked helping with in the kitchen.”

“I think he just liked the bit where the Pillsbury tube went ‘pop’,” said Aziraphale softly. He went to join her in rolling bits of premade dough around savory slices.

“Probably. It was nice though, when he’d come over after school and you’d both help me with dinner. Although I always loved having you two in the house, whether you were helping me or not. It didn’t matter where I was, when I heard the sound of you two laughing echoing through the house, it made everything seem perfect.” 

Aziraphale nodded, but didn’t say anything. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the joy fall from her face. She sighed. “I know you don’t want us apologizing all the time, but I’m hoping it’s alright if it’s for something new. I guess what I said last night, when you got home, it wasn’t the right thing to say. I guess I’ve been doing that a lot lately. I want this visit to be a good one. I’m sorry I keep ruining everything, honey.”

It was useful to have something to do with his hands. One can of crescent rolls would probably have been enough, but he popped the spare just so they could continue to work as they spoke. “To be honest with you, I was expecting to have difficulties with Father, but I wasn’t expecting them from you. And, to be frank, I’ve felt far more judgement from your direction than his. At times I’ve started to wonder if you’ve really been as open minded as I’ve come to believe.”

Edith turned to him, both hurt and horrified that she might have hurt him all over again.

“Anthony doesn’t think it’s bigotry at all. He thinks you’re just babying me again now that I’m home.” Aziraphale braced himself, ready for her answer.

It was slow in coming, but it came. “I think he’s more right than you are. But maybe it is a little like the last time we let you down. I… suppose once I’d accepted who you really are, and I got rid of all my old hopes for what your life might look like, I didn’t exactly stop having hopes at all. I made some new ones. I guess I was pushing those on you now and that’s not fair either. I’m sorry. I’ll stop commenting on how you want to spend your time and who you want to spend it with.”

“Well, er, thank you. That’s all I ask.” Both their hands were greasy from their work, so she leaned up against his side in lieu of a hug. It was appreciated, although, a twinge of guilt gnawed somewhere deep with in him. Perhaps he oughtn’t be playing games and lying to her. “Could I ask what these new hopes are?”

Edith shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. You’re right that I shouldn’t be meddling and sharing them would be meddling. So, I’ll just keep it to myself.”

She wasn’t wrong and Aziraphale would have to be alright with that.

Not long after the rolls were in the oven and the soup was on the stove, there was a knock on the front door. Edith smiled, took Aziraphale by the arm and brought him back to the living room, just as Maddy and Anthony entered.

Aziraphale’s eyes went to Anthony first. They always did. His hair was mussed, not artfully as it usually was, but as though he’d done his best to comb it while riding in his mother’s car. He’d had no time to add gel or to think over about what he’d be wearing today. His eyes were still a bit squinty, as though a part of him wanted to be back in bed, and he was greeting Elijah and the Holmeses with his politest grumbles.

That expression fell away when he met Aziraphale’s eyes. His eyes widened, his cheeks flushed. He must have been thinking of their last evening together. Aziraphale, who’d tackled that line of thought earlier that morning, was able to keep himself together and offer a polite. “Hello Anthony.”

Where he failed to keep his composure was when Maddy spoke to him. All she said was, “Hey, Ezra,” but there was something in the look she gave him, something knowing. He’d hardly said a word to her since she’d walked in on Anthony snogging him after the car rental. If she’d been awake last night when Anthony had gotten home, disheveled and pleased with himself, then who knew what she might suspect?

He did his best to act normal. “Oh! Yes, Maddy, hello. So wonderful to see you. It’s a nice morning, isn’t it? For December, I mean. The weather’s really been quite calm, hasn’t it. And not too cold either. Really rather splendid, I think.”

Everyone in the room was looking at him in confusion, even Anthony, who did not understand why he was being awkward with her in the first place. Aziraphale swallowed heavily and wished he could sink into the floor and never be seen again.

His father spared him. “Ez and Tony, do you two think you could set the table for all of us? I’m sure lunch is nearly ready. We’ll eat in the dining room, I think. It’ll be easier to fit all seven of us.”

“Of course, Father you hardly need to ask.” Stiff and embarrassed, he fled into the dining room, Marjory Holmes’s voice filling the empty void he left behind. Anthony was right behind him and, when Ezra squatted by the side board to look for the large tablecloth inside, Anthony squatted right beside him.

“What was that?”

In a strained whisper he responded, “You know what it was. If your mother knew what we were doing last night… How could she stand to look at me? I’ve… I’ve debauched her son!” 

Anthony did his best to stifle his laugh. His best wasn’t very good. “First of all, I think she’s got a pretty good idea of what happened. I got home late and then was in the bathroom for a billion years taking a shower. Second, she doesn’t care. She’s not hung up about… about sex.”

He’d been talking with smooth dismissiveness, until he stumbled at the end. Maddy might not have hang ups; Anthony clearly had a few.

“Right, about that… we should probably talk about last night at some point.”

“It was good,” said Anthony

“Yes, but we… we ought to agree on some things before we have another… last night. In case want a… a different ending, next time.” Aziraphale swallowed heavily, staring into Anthony’s eyes. They were still crouched like fools in the dining room, the table cloth still tucked away.

“Are you boys having trouble?” They both jumped and turned guiltily around. Edith had stuck her head in from the living room. She did not seem to have overheard the whispering. Thank God for small mercies.

“Just found it and the matching napkins too!” Aziraphale held up the first table cloth he got his hands on as though victorious. It was lavender. Apparently this mid-December luncheon would have an Easter theme.

When she was gone, Anthony slumped against his side, and let out a sardonic laugh. “I don’t think we’re going to be having that talk today.” 

“No,” said Aziraphale. “I don’t think so.”

The place was nothing but a greasy little hole in the wall. The sort of restaurant any tourist was likely to overlook for the familiarity of McDonalds or excitement of somewhere with a gimmick. The food was simple but good. Burgers, fries, shakes, exactly as bad for you as anyone could have hoped. Xave had gone there regularly growing up and swore by it.

Tony now sat with him, at a table by the window, burger juice dribbling down his chin as he listened to Xave talk business. “Recording the first week of January would be a mistake. Jack and Violet will be getting settled back in. And you’re lying if you say you’re going to be fine coming around the last week that your guy’s in the states.”

That, Tony couldn’t argue with. “Okay, but mid-January then. You think that would be fine?”

“Yeah. Mid-January is fine, providing we’ve got all the songs ready by then.” Tony frowned at this, but Xave seemed undeterred. He did not continue until he’d gotten just the right amount of ketchup on his next fry. “I love all the stuff you’ve come up with, but like you’ve said yourself, the album is kind of a downer. I don’t think that means we should get rid of any of that sad stuff, but do you think you could write something a little more optimistic or just anything with a different vibe to break it up? I’m just worried it’ll be a little one note, even if that note is well done.”

Tony leaned back in his seat, staring at an odd spot on the ceiling as he thought it over. “That’s fair. I can try to come up with something.”

“Try? Your ‘angel’ is home; I figured you’d be bursting with inspiration for something a little lighter.”

A lot of energy was expended by Tony in attempts to look cool. None of them mattered when he thought about Ezra. Whatever sappy, love struck expression overcame him, it was enough to make Xave burst out laughing. 

“God, kid, you’ve got it bad! How has it been going, by the way? Nice having him around?”

Tony nodded. “Yeah, especially when we actually get a chance to be alone. It’s like, we could be doing anything and I’m just… happier. Everything is just brighter when I’m with him.”

Tony had never had much luck with father figures. His own father had been abusive, Elijah had been an improvement but a disappointment nonetheless, but Xave was looking at him with a fond smirk, happy just to witness Tony’s young love. He thought this was what it might be like to have a father who didn’t royally suck. 

“I guess you won’t have to use your imagination quite so much next time you sit down to write something racy, huh?” Xave teased.

As quickly as he’d lit up, Tony slumped. He leaned one cheek heavily into his palm and bit a fry with frustration. Xave winced in sympathy. “Sorry. Shouldn’t have said anything. He’s still not ready?”

“If that were it, I’d be fine! I’d wait for him. I’d wait forever.” Tony flushed slightly, embarrassed, but not enough to stop him from talking. “But that’s not it. It’s just… we’re both staying at home and there’s nowhere to go. There’s no privacy anywhere!”

 “Sorry to hear it, kid. That sucks. I remember feeling that way in high school. The trick was to try and make privacy when you could.” His face fell slightly, as nostalgia faded from his memories. “I didn’t succeed at that much.”

Tony sighed heavily and dipped one of his fries into his chocolate shake. Xave made a face. “It’s so gross when you do that.”

“ ‘snot. It’s like chocolate covered pretzels or something. It’s delicious.” Xave’s look of disgust became more exaggerated and Tony raised an eyebrow. “I’m going to tell Mom you think it’s gross. She’s the one who taught me to do it.”

Now it was Xave’s turn for a comical transformation. He straightened out of his slight, cool-guy lean and began to back pedal. “I wasn’t really… I was just teasing you. I’m sure it’s not that gross. I had friends who did that growing up. How’s your mom doing anyway?”

“Why do you need to ask? I thought you guys texted.” Tony already knew the answer to the question.

“Yeah. Yeah, we text. But it’s mostly just checking in on you and talking about middle aged stuff. You know, I ask her how to fix a sink when the one in my home is on the fritz and she asks for help with car maintenance. Boring old people stuff. I’m not sure she’d tell me if she was actually having a rough time or anything.”

He wasn’t lying, not explicitly. Tony didn’t doubt that they did ask each other boring shit about house maintenance because he didn’t doubt that his mother, at least, was always looking for excuses for contact. Now, it seemed, Xave was looking for his excuses too. Tony had assumed that there must be something more going on with them, but Xave’s next words changed his mind on that. 

“So, how is she? She doing alright with her friends? Going out with anyone? Enjoying having you home?”

Xave had buried ‘going out with anyone’ right in the middle of the question, perhaps hoping it would go mostly overlooked. Tony, however, caught it. That was proof that nothing had happened. Not yet anyway.

He dipped another fry in his shake. “Nah, she’s not going out with anyone. Things are going well with her friends and stuff though.”

“Good to hear. About the friends, I mean.”

“Yeah, she’s gotten to see the Clarks more lately and she still goes out with her friends from recovery sometimes. Oh, and she was supposed to visit Manhattan next week with her friend, what’s her name… the one you met because Mom brought her to our concert. They were supposed to go shopping and stuff, but her friend’s dad is sick, so she’s got to fly to Florida to be with him. Mom was pretty disappointed. She’s never actually been into the city at Christmastime and she was looking forward to it.” Tony had been looking forward to it too. It meant the house would have been empty. No luck with that now.

“I know it wouldn’t be the same without her friend, but she could still go herself. The city’s iconic at Christmas and it’s a shame she’s lived so close all her life and never got a chance to visit.” Tony stared at Xave, nearly certain he knew where this was going. He was right. “If she feels uncomfortable or unsafe walking around alone, I could always act as escort. Just, you know, if she wants one.”

There was a part of Tony that still felt like he had when he’d been thirteen and his mother had just started dating. He didn’t trust change, didn’t like meeting the men she was seeing. Didn’t trust that any of them were good enough for her. A wave of that threatened to take him now, but there was no reason to let it. He liked Xave. He trusted Xave. If he had to pick someone out for his mother, it probably would have been Xave. 

Besides, if this got his mother out of the house, then Tony might finally have a chance to get Ezra to himself. He shrugged, allowing them both to pretend this wasn’t as important as it was. “I’ll talk to her about it.”

Chapter Text

Aziraphale and Anthony still had not had their talk and it was already Friday afternoon. It wasn’t anyone’s fault in particular. On Monday evening, Anthony had performed with James Holmes and the Old Dogs. Aziraphale had gone and very much enjoyed himself sitting with Marjory and Maddy, but the old folks had insisted on talking afterward and by the end they were too tired to do much of anything just the two of them. On Tuesday, Anthony had gone into the city. Aziraphale hadn’t even had a chance to see him. Wednesday had seemed like a possibility until Elijah had asked if Aziraphale would help him join in volunteering at a soup kitchen. No angel worth their salt would say no to that. Anthony had wound up coming with them; he’d brought his guitar and played Christmas carols. Watching him put smiles on the faces of visitors had made Aziraphale all the more deeply in love with him. It had not given them much time to communicate.

Then, on Thursday, Aziraphale had gotten on a train to Philadelphia and he would not be returning until Saturday afternoon. He didn’t regret that part though. There were people he needed to visit.

Presently, he was sitting in the apartment of two very dear, old friends. Keisha and Rachel had been chums of his back in school. They’d met taking dance classes when they were in the sixth grade and he’d done his best to keep in touch, even as they’d gone their separate ways for university.

The girls, it turned out, had decided to room together after graduating from their different schools. They’d both be up in Connecticut soon, Keisha for Christmas and Rachel for Hanukkah, but they’d all be busy then. Besides, Keisha was performing with the Pennsylvania Ballet and Aziraphale wanted a chance to see her dance before this run of The Nutcracker ended.

“I can’t tell you how good it is to see you both again. You seem to be getting on quite well for yourselves. The apartment is so spacious!” He gestured around their living room before reaching for another pretzel. He and Rachel had already gone through a bowl of them together. Keisha was far more careful. Her career demanded it.

“If you compare it to what we could afford in New York, it is. Is London expensive?”

Aziraphale nodded vociferously. “Oh, most definitely. This is considerably larger than my flat and we’ve got that rent split three ways.”

“The two guys you replaced us with?” asked Rachel. When Aziraphale frowned, she laughed. “Seriously though, I’m curious. I’ve always wanted to meet them, but they’re so far away and neither of us get much time off.”

“Not something I envy about you working in the states,” he said. “Are you still liking your jobs?”

Rachel nodded. “Yeah, I mean, I’m not passionate about selling computer software, but I like the people I’m working with well enough.”

“You know Rache, she was already head of the party planning committee after working there for a month.” Keisha smiled. “I’m still loving work, although Nutcracker season is exhausting. Work good for you?”

“Yes. No major changes to report on that front.”

The conversation stuttered to a halt for a moment. They were caught in that odd moment of reacquaintance when most of the formalities were out of the way, but the old patter had not yet fully returned. Rachel had never been much for silence, however, and quickly moved in to fill it.

“Keisha’s got a new boyfriend!”

“Rache!” Keisha said, sounding quite suddenly like she was back in middle school.

Rachel too seemed to have slipped back in time as well, she grinned mischievously through her report. “They’re not official yet but she’s crazy in love. I can tell. She hasn’t been like this with other guys she’s gone out with.”

“How did you meet him?” asked Aziraphale.

“We, the ballet I mean, we do this special program where dance classes could come in and watch one of our rehearsals and meet some of the ballerinas backstage. I always volunteer to talk with the kids, because they’re so cute. Plus, you know, there’s not a lot of black dancers in our company and there’s just this look of wonder that some of these little girls get when they see someone who looks like them doing what they dream of doing. I never had that growing up.” She grew briefly misty eyed then shook her head. “Anyway, because it’s a field trip, there’s usually chaperones along with teachers and this one group had a really handsome young man with them. When we did the backstage meet up it was clear from the way he was looking around that he’d never been involved with dance at all. The whole backstage thing was new to him. So I’m curious why he’s there. This was a class of middle school kids and he wasn’t old enough to be a parent. Turns out he’d stepped up to go with them, because his little sister was in the class. He was so sweet with her and with all the kids. He didn’t know dancing, but he just wanted his sister to be happy and they wouldn’t have been able to go without him. I asked for his phone number and we’ve gone out a few times since. His name is Chris.”

She said Chris as though it were the most beautiful word in all of the English language. Aziraphale smiled at her with grandfatherly affection. His girls were doing so well. “I’m so happy to hear it, dear.”

“Thanks,” said Keisha. Then, she paused and gave him a curious look. “So… anything new with you? With that blog or a relationship or anything?”

Aziraphale flushed on the spot. He could not meet their eyes, but neither could he stop himself from smiling. “I, er, actually there is something new. A relationship. Well, it’s not actually a new relationship, it’s more of a change in the form of relationship if that makes sense. It’s not someone I didn’t know before, I mean.”

Both girls leaned forward. Rachel nudged him. “Tell us about him!”

“It’s er—Oh, this is going to seem wrong to the two of you, given the last time you saw him…” The girls looked at one another, but did not interrupt. They continued to wait. “Do you remember Anthony?”

“Little Tony?” Rachel squealed. “Of course we remember him! One, you bring him up every time we talk and two, he used to get all cute and grumpy when you spent time with us. Are you seriously dating him? How old is he?”

“Twenty,” said Aziraphale sheepishly. He was beginning to feel like a creep.

“Have you got a picture?” asked Keisha.

Aziraphale pulled his phone from his pocket and both girls rolled their eyes. Rachel tsked. “Is that the same phone you got for graduation? From high school? You’ve got to get a new phone. Nobody uses a flip phone anymore.”

“But it still works…” Aziraphale argued weakly.

Keisha reached for her own phone instead. “He’s a musician, right? So we should just be able to google him and… Oh, wow! Good for you, Ezra!”

Rachel was up in a moment, skirting around the coffee table so she could join Keisha on the other side. She clapped her hands over her mouth. “I cannot believe that’s the same little guy in the Pokemon t-shirt who used to follow you around. Did he already have a crush on you in first grade?”

“I don’t… I don’t think so.” Aziraphale twisted his ring nervously around his finger. “I know he already had feelings for me in high school, although I was completely oblivious at the time. I’ve never actually asked when it all began for certain. I doubt it was elementary school.”

“Probably not,” said Rachel. “But, hey, congratulations, Ez! I mean, we already know you two are compatible. This is just about perfect!”

“Yeah, Ez. Congrats!” Now they were coming back around the coffee table to squeeze the daylights out of him. When they sat down once more, it was on either side. Before the conversation could continue, Aziraphale’s phone rang. It was still in his hands and they could all see the name that popped up. It was Anthony’s. In a whisper, as though Anthony would already be able to hear, Keisha said, “Pick it up.”

Aziraphale did. “Anthony, dear, how are you?”

“Good. Great. You all settled in with your friends, angel?”

The girls squeaked. They’d known that nickname from childhood and they’d known when it had gone away.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” said Anthony.

“Yes. I’m here with Keisha and Rachel. I was just telling them about you.”

Rachel leaned close to the phone. “Congratulations!”

“Uh, thanks, I guess. Um, listen, Ez, could we talk in private for a sec?”

Aziraphale frowned, shrugged to the girls, but stood up and took himself down the hall. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, fine. Just fine. I just—I wanted to tell you something.” He did not proceed to tell it.

“What is it?” Aziraphale encouraged.

“Well, uh, I know you’re not getting back until Saturday but, um, Mom’s heading into New York tomorrow and she’s not going to be back until Sunday. I was thinking maybe you’d want to spend the night on Saturday?”

“Oh!” said Aziraphale. “Oh…”

“Just, you know, we’ll have the place to ourselves and we could, you know, talk. Or whatever.”

“Or whatever indeed…” Aziraphale murmured. “I, well, I don’t see why not. It will certainly be nice to have some privacy somewhere other than a car. I’ll be there. Already got my bags packed and everything.”

“Great! I mean, cool. See you then, angel. Text me when you’re back in town. Love you.”

“Goodbye, darling. I love you too.” He clicked his phone off and then walked back to the living room, gnawing on his lip. The girls were waiting there, curious. “He invited me over on Saturday night. His mother’s going to be out of town.”

“Is this new?” Keisha ventured.

Aziraphale nodded.

“Oh!” said Rachel.

“Do either of you…” he trailed off and shook his head. “Never mind. I think my flatmates might be better to ask these questions to.”

Rachel laughed. “Yeah, we can’t offer much advice on that front, not for you. We can offer another drink though.”

“I think a drink might be just the thing,” said Aziraphale and he took his place back between the two of them.

Five ‘o’ clock and already the sun had set. It was good really, it would give Anthony cover when he came to get Aziraphale. The Clarks had been visually disappointed when they’d picked him up from the train station that morning, only for him to tell them he would be heading out again that evening. After his conversation with Edith last Sunday, Aziraphale decided to be charitable in his interpretation of their reaction. They were just disappointed they wouldn’t get to see him.

He'd napped for some of the day, but spent the rest of it with the Clarks, offering up a game of Scrabble for old time’s sake. He’d beaten them just as soundly as he always had, but they seemed happy to spend the time with him. Now, they all sat together on the couch in the living room, Aziraphale’s overnight bag by the door, waiting for his mystery man in the fancy car to pull up at the end of the parking lot.

“Again, Ez, feel free to invite this guy into the house,” said Elijah. “We’ll be happy to meet him. I promise.”

“If you want to and whenever you feel ready,” said Edith as she forced a smile.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Aziraphale’s conscience was getting to him again. She had done nothing to deserve all this lying and it really was rather childish.

“What your mother said the other night was true,” said Elijah. Edith made a small, unhappy noise, like someone remembering an embarrassing moment, but he continued on. “Anyone you’re not comfortable bringing home, is probably not someone you should be seeing.”

Aziraphale bristled and said in his driest tone, “Up until very recently, that would have included everyone I’m actually attracted to. So, pardon me if I don’t view your comfort level as an excellent gauge of quality.”

“Ez… I didn’t mean... I support you. I promise. I just don’t want you to make a mistake.”

There was the blaring sound of rock music from outside, and Anthony’s rented Mercedes rolled into view. He laid on the horn and Aziraphale sighed heavily. “We’ll have to continue this conversation some other time if, that is, it actually needs continuing. Good night.”

“Good night,” said Elijah stiffly.

“We love you,” Edith added just before Aziraphale swept out of the house.

The short walk to the car was just long enough for his brain to switch from annoyed to nervous. His pretended evening of another tryst in a long line of trysts melted away, as he faced instead a night that guaranteed to be excruciatingly awkward, at least in part.

“Hey, angel,” said Anthony, as Aziraphale opened the passenger door and settled in with his bag in his lap. Anthony had his sunglasses on, despite the darkness, a sure sign that he wasn’t feeling as confident as he would have liked.

Aziraphale leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Hello, darling. It’s good to see you again.”

“It’s only been a few days.”

“That doesn’t make it any less true,” Aziraphale assured him.

Behind his glasses, Anthony rolled his eyes. “You want to order something in or go out to eat? I hadn’t really planned through dinner.”

“I could make something for us!” said Aziraphale. “I could be creative with whatever you’ve got in the house, or we could go pick up some groceries.”

Anthony’s brow furrowed, as he undoubtedly considered the state of the larders in the Jay house. At last he said, “We should probably go shopping.”

With the grocery store standing between them and any serious conversation, they both relaxed a bit. Anthony asked questions about Aziraphale’s trip and Aziraphale asked after Maddy. It was a constant marvel for Aziraphale how he could feel so flustered and so at ease around the same person. It had been a constant wonder for most of his time on earth.

When they arrived at the store, Aziraphale turned to Anthony. “Have you a craving for anything in particular?”

“Nah.” Anthony shrugged. “Just don’t make too much work for yourself.”

Aziraphale paused by the shopping trolleys, frowning as he thought. “Oh!” he said suddenly, “I have just the thing! How would you like a spaghetti carbonara? If I’m not making the noodles from scratch I can have it all done in less than half an hour.”

Clueless about anything culinary, and more than willing to follow Aziraphale’s advice without questions, Anthony gave a thumbs up. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’ then.”

He considered sending Anthony on a mission to the other side of the store to fetch eggs while he sought out garlic and pancetta on his own. He decided not to. It was far more pleasant to have him by Aziraphale’s side, even if he was just sauntering along looking out of place.

Grocery shopping was never much fun when one was merely looking for staple goods, but Aziraphale enjoyed buying for recipes. It was part of the process; the first step toward making something delicious for someone he cared deeply about. Anthony might not be able to tell the quality difference between two cloves of garlic, but he’d taste the care Aziraphale had put into the choosing.

It was all quite calming too and all anxiety was gone by the time they’d gathered everything they would need (plus a miniature cake from the bakery). They’d nearly made it back around to the tills, when Anthony stopped in his tracks. He was peering down an aisle, a lump in his cheek where he was apparently biting his tongue. Aziraphale wheeled their trolley back around toward him. “What is it, dear?”

Anthony’s voice was low with pretended indifference when he spoke, “Thought maybe we should grab some… stuff.”

“Stuff?” Aziraphale turned to look down the aisle too. It was all health and hygiene- soaps, medicines, menstrual pads, and condoms. Aziraphale could guess which Anthony was referring to. “Ah… stuff. I suppose we should have… stuff.”

“Not, you know, necessarily for tonight. I know you want to talk and everything. Just figured it would be smart to have on hand.”

“No, you’re perfectly right. Always better to be overprepared than underprepared,” Aziraphale agreed. He looked at Anthony. Anthony looked at him. Together they walked into the aisle.

In his 6,000 years on earth, Aziraphale had been aware of all sorts of ways humans had attempted to keep themselves safe during intercourse. Well, mostly it had been about avoiding offspring, but once they’d gotten a better idea about where certain ailments came from they’d worked on that too. In all that time, as impartial observer, he’d never actually bought any himself. He had called his flatmates and asked them for advice on this sort of thing, he’d even taken notes. Unfortunately, his notebook was currently zipped in his overnight bag, which was in turn locked in the car.

Anthony, he knew, wasn’t much more experienced, but he was more curious. He might know more anyway. “Any idea what would be best?”

“Nope,” said Anthony. American stores had a tendency toward too many brands and too many options, and just now it was rather overwhelming. There were so many sizes and textures and flavors. Anthony was growing increasingly red-faced, less, Aziraphale suspected, because he felt uncomfortable and more because he was embarrassed that he did not know what to choose. He tried so hard, so often, to be so cool. He probably felt he should know all this.

“I suppose we could just make a few selections and, er, experiment?” Aziraphale suggested.

Anthony’s eyes widened and then he grinned wolfishly. “Sounds good to me!”

With careless abandon, and little concern for cost, Anthony grabbed a number of condom and lubrication options and shoved them into the cart. They looked far more real beside the pasta boxes than they had on the shelf.

It was all perfectly normal, healthy, nothing to be ashamed of. Perhaps it wasn’t quite angelic, but it was perfectly human and that’s what he was now. Mostly. He wasn’t going to let millennia of heaven and a childhood in the church make him uncomfortable now.

Still, he found himself looking up at Anthony and saying, “Perhaps we should use the self-checkout then?”

In the movies and in songs, sex was a passionate, impulsive thing. That, or it was slow, romantic, something to be built to with few words and much sultry gazing. He understood, of course, that life was not the movies, and that the Ezra in his fantasies did not always behave like the Ezra he actually loved. Still, the Ezra in real life had been squeezing Tony’s butt this time last week. Tony had sort of hoped tonight would at least be more like that.

They were eating chocolate cake and talking about sex together, it should have been hot. It wasn’t. They were at the kitchen table. The lights were all on. Ezra had a notebook and a spine so straight you could have measured lines with it. This conversation was important, anything that helped Ezra feel more comfortable was important, but Tony didn’t see why it had to be so dry.

“Ezra,” Tony interrupted when he could not stand to be silently supportive anymore, “You’re making sex sound like directions for assembling Ikea furniture. I know how it works.”

“But there are just so many ways to do things!” Ezra flipped wildly through his little notebook. He’d filled enough pages for a college lecture series and Tony wondered, with impressed fascination, if Ezra’s roommates had actually tried all this stuff. Maybe Leon just heard a lot serving drinks at a gay bar. Ezra was frowning. “I mean I knew but I didn’t know. How are we supposed to discuss what we’re interested in if we don’t have all the options on the table?”

Tony reached out and put a hand over Ezra’s. “I don’t think reading textbook style descriptions is going to help us figure that out.”

He could have said that with bedroom eyes and a come hither tone. He hadn’t. He’d cocked his head and given half an awkward smile. Ezra had wound himself up in all the wrong ways and he’d need to be talked down carefully.

Ezra sighed and frowned down at his notebook. “They told me not to overthink it, yet here I am. I’m sorry if I’ve taken all the passion out of everything.”

“You didn’t take the passion out, you just bored it to sleep for a while.” Tony laughed, getting all the louder when Ezra pursed his lips and pouted. “Look, neither of us has any experience outside of… you know, playing solitaire. We should probably start pretty vanilla, figure that out before we-”

“Add toppings!” Ezra chimed in, his desire to complete a good metaphor overpowering every other instinct.

“Yeah, I guess. Or try other flavors or whatever.” Tony felt that the conversation was slipping away from him. “Did they give you any other advice more along the lines of ‘don’t over think it’. That’s more helpful than instructions.”

“Well, they did say most people’s first experiences were awkward and sometimes unpleasant and a little embarrassing. They said not to overhype one experience out of what will hopefully be many experiences.” Ezra was flushing again, pink to his ears. Tony found himself happy to see that bit of pleasant discomfort back. They’d lost it sometime after the pasta dishes had been cleared. He was less enthused about the actual advice. Ezra might have been prone to over thinking, but it was Tony who over hyped things. He hadn’t spent a distressingly large percentage of his life fantasizing about this to just accept awkward and unpleasant as inevitable.

Ezra glanced in his direction, his expression melting when he saw Tony’s new frown. A plump hand reached up and smoothed the lines on Tony’s forehead. “Not what you wanted to hear, dear?”

Leaning on years of stagecraft, Tony affected his best cool, rock star, sex god attitude, and grinned. “I’m sure the two of us can do better than average.”

Ezra raised his brows and then patted Tony on the head, “Excellent bravado, darling.”

With a roll of his eyes, Tony sat up straighter. “Look, Ez, is there anything else we need to talk about or could we just maybe, I don’t know, snuggle, make out and just sort of see what happens? We don’t have to do anything new tonight, but this time, if we start getting carried away, we’ve got what we need. And, as your lovely notebook has reminded us, there’s a lot of options between kissing and full blown sex.”

“Right, er, I suppose there are. And it does seem a great deal easier to… progress once one gets wrapped up in the moment.” Tony nodded, encouraging him. It was still early enough. The evening might take a turn for the better. At the very least maybe he’d get to feel Ezra’s ass up this time. That would only be fair.

Tony fed Ezra the last bite of cake, stood up, offered his hand and then led them both into the living room. He sat Ezra down on the couch, then straddled him. This was something he decided to put on his list of things he enjoyed. They warmed up slowly. There was no hurry. They could be as languid as they wished. He liked it here, with Ezra’s hands around his waist, his own fingers tangled in Ezra’s hair.

As they melted into each other, Tony began to kiss along Ezra’s jaw bone. Ezra turned into it, giving Tony access to his ear. A small nip elicited a noise that shot straight to Tony’s groin. This was going well, this was going perfectly. Then Ezra went very still and Tony pulled back.

“What’s wrong?”

Ezra was still flushed, the mood was not entirely dead, but it was dying and Tony needed to know the problem if he was going to save it. “Could we, perhaps, relocate?”

Confused, Tony looked around, trying to see what the issue was. When he followed Ezra’s gaze, the problem became obvious. Tony had turned him to look toward a wall of family photos. There were pictures of small Ezra’s with even smaller Tonys. This alone might have killed the moment all on its own, but the Maddys were even more of an issue. Ezra clearly had a hang up there; multiple versions of her looking on couldn’t help.

“We could go up to my room?” Tony offered.

Ezra laughed. “To your loft bed? We’d hit the ceiling. I was thinking perhaps the futon downstairs?”

“Even better!” said Tony. He’d considered that before, but he’d been worried that room might be more of a turn off than the living room. Ezra had slept down there on a few occasions, always when he’d stayed with the Jays after his relationship had soured with his parents. Tony had not wanted to remind him of those memories. If Ezra was going to suggest it himself though, Tony was happy to oblige.

Together they relocated to the basement. It was finished, at least if you kept the door to the laundry area shut, and had long served as Tony’s music room. It had posters from his favorite artists on the walls, his entire collection of records and cds, all his instruments and, of course, the black futon/couch waiting invitingly against one wall.

Tony wondered if it would be getting ahead of himself to suggest sheets now. He decided against it. He was pretty sure there were some in the dryer; he could always grab those quickly if things got heated. Just now, he let Ezra sit him down and climb into his lap. He was somehow more aware of Ezra’s thighs when they were on either side of his own legs, than he had been when he’d been sitting on them. He decided Ezra’s thighs could also go on his list of things he enjoyed.

The other advantage to this position was that he could reach a good deal more at this angle. He gave Ezra a squeeze and earned a scandalized, “Anthony!”

“You did it first.”

“Wicked, vengeful creature!” Ezra said. “What am I to do with you?”

Talking like that was also on the list. They hadn’t even gotten any clothes off and Tony was already learning so much himself. They went back to kissing and it wasn’t long before they found themselves considerably more horizontal. Ezra, clearly no longer overthinking things, had managed to get Tony’s shirt all the way off. It was currently lying on the floor of the room and Tony didn’t think it would be long before the tattoo on his hip tempted Ezra to remove even more. Tony really ought to even the playing field.

But Ezra froze once again, and this time Tony froze with him. Someone was knocking at the door. Ezra looked down at him, still half in a haze. “Should we answer that?”

“No.” He looped his bare arms around Ezra’s neck to pull him close once more.

The knocking came again, louder this time, more frantic.

Ezra’s haze was gone. He looked legitimately concerned. “I think we should answer it.”

“Why? Nobody’s going to be looking for us. It’s probably just some old neighbor who doesn’t respect Mom’s working hours and wants help with the plumbing or something.” Tony tried to bring Ezra close once more. It didn’t work, he’d gone too still. With a groan, Tony pushed Ezra off, and stood up to grab his shirt. “Fine, I’ll check, but you’re being ridiculous.”

Only he was starting to fear that wasn’t true. The knocking was growing louder, more desperate and he thought he heard a voice too. As soon as his shirt was on, the two of them ran upstairs and pulled open the front door.

On the front stoop stood Marjory Holmes. Tony had never seen her look anything but put together, now she seemed frantic. “Oh, thank God, you’re home. I came to get your mother’s help, but I’d forgotten she was away this weekend. Oh, Tony, thank God you’re here. He might actually listen to you.”

“What’s happened?”

“It’s James. Stubborn old fool. He went out to hang Christmas lights. I told him not to. I told him it was too late. I told him he was too old. He slipped off the ladder.”

“Dear Lord,” said Ezra. “How far did he fall?”

“He wasn’t too high up just yet, thank God. But he’s broken his leg or sprained it and I think he hurt his arm! He’s saying it’ll be fine, he just needs to rest. The idiot needs to go to a hospital! Even if it’s just a sprain, we’re getting to that age, you know? Falls aren’t just falls anymore. Do you know how many old folks have a fall and then die just a few months later? How can he be acting like this is nothing?” She burst into tears. Tony didn’t think he’d ever seen her cry before. Ezra, because he was Ezra, stepped forward to comfort her, pulling her close.

That was his job; Tony had other work to do. “I’ll get him to go. Don’t worry, Mrs. Holmes.”

He grabbed his jacket from where it hung by the door, pulling it on as he hurried down the street toward the Holmeses’ house. Outside, was the crime scene, the ladder still up, the Christmas lights still curled in a pile at its base. Tony did not bother to knock, simply pushing his way inside. The television was on, still playing one of those cliché Christmas movies that Mrs. Holmes enjoyed. It was playing it for no one; the living room was empty.

The kitchen, however, was not. James Holmes called out, voice strained, “Margie, you back? Where’d you go?”

“ ‘Snot her, Mr. Holmes, it’s me.” He entered the kitchen and found the old man sitting there, foot propped up on a kitchen chair. He’d gotten every bag of peas from the freezer. He had one on his ankle, another on his knee, and was holding a third against his left shoulder. He did not look well. All along the left side of his body bruises were beginning to appear, joining the scratches. He looked like he’d gotten into a fight with the ground and lost.

“Tony? Why are you here?”

“Mrs. Holmes is worried about you. I think she was hoping Mom could force you into a car or something, but Mom’s out of town, so I figured I’d do it.”

James frowned, accentuating every wrinkle on his face. “I’m just fine, Tony. I’ll be just fine. It’s nothing to worry about. Head on home.”

There was sweat on his brow and he was growing paler. Tony pulled one of the remaining kitchen chairs out and settled down. “Dude, you look like shit. Go to the hospital.”

“It’s fine! I hardly fell. I…” James was looking down, too embarrassed to meet Tony’s eyes. “I slipped on the second rung… Got my foot caught in it and the rest of me fell just a couple feet. I’ve just twisted my ankle. That’s all. It’s nothing serious.”

“Wouldn’t hurt to get checked out though,” said Tony dispassionately. James did not want to be fussed over and Tony wasn’t going to fuss.

James stared at the bag of frozen peas starting to drip water onto the floor. “We haven’t put lights up on the outside of the house in years. I didn’t even know she still wanted them. But she mentioned it this morning, how our old house used to look back when the kids were little. I went out and bought some today, just enough to go around the door and the front windows. I told her at dinner what I was planning, and she said we should ask you or your ma to do it for us. I guess I got proud. Too proud for sense. Too proud to wait until tomorrow to show her I could do it. Then I slipped on the second rung… I can’t go to the hospital after that. It’ll be fine. I just need some more ice.”

Tony could almost understand that. He spent so much time trying to act tough or cool or capable for Ezra, that it was hard sometimes to feel weak in front of him. For Tony, that had always been because he was too young, but that, at least, came with the hope that one day he would be old enough. To be too old had to be harder. James couldn’t do all those things for her that he’d once done with ease.

Still, there was something James could do to make Marjory’s night better and it wasn’t ‘manning’ his way through it. “She’s over at my house right now, you know, with Ezra. She’s crying, James. You really scared her.”

The embarrassed stoicism flickered.

Tony kept talking. “Look, maybe you’re right. Maybe you’re fine. Maybe it’s a waste of time. But if it makes her feel better, isn’t it worth it?”

“She’s that broken up, huh?”

“Yeah. I’ve never seen her like that.”

James let out a long, pained sigh. “I guess I could let her take me. If it’ll make her feel better.”

Tony tried to imagine it, James too hurt to drive, Marjory with tears streaming down her face. It seemed like a recipe for another, far worse, accident. “Why don’t I drive you and Ezra can take her up in my car? I’ll text him.”

James nodded.

Hours later, far too close to midnight, Tony and Ezra sat together in the lobby of Norford Hospital, sipping on Styrofoam cups of fast cooling coffee. The main cafeteria was closed, the gift shop was closed, even the lobby fountain was off. They’d spent hours with the Holmeses waiting in the emergency room for forms to be filed and tests to be run. At last the decision had been made to check James in overnight, just as a precaution, to make sure he hadn’t damaged his head at all in the fall.

Marjory was up with him now, getting him settled before she said goodbye for the night. It was past visitor hours and so Tony and Ezra had been shooed away. They could have left, but without discussing it they’d both agreed to wait. They needed to make sure Marjory was doing alright.

“I don’t suppose this was the evening you were hoping for when you invited me over?” Ezra said quietly. His voice still seemed too loud in the dim lobby.

Tony raised an eyebrow. “What would you do if I said ‘yes’?”

“Shake my head and roll my eyes I suspect,” said Ezra, doing just that anyway. Then he sighed. “Do you think he’ll be alright?”

“Yeah. I think so. Don’t know how long it’ll take to get his leg out of the cast though. He’ll have to take it easy for a while and he won’t like that.” They both sipped their terrible coffee once more. “Are you ever scared about getting old?”

Ezra did not wait a moment to answer. He shook his head. “Not at all. It’s part of the whole experience. Life, I mean, if you’re lucky enough.”

Tony gave this some consideration, he wasn’t sure it made him feel better. “I guess it helps that none of your hobbies involve moving.”

“Cheeky thing,” said Ezra. If he was still calling Tony that fifty years down the line, Tony supposed maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

They sipped their bad coffee again.

The silence, interrupted by announcements and the footsteps of other people in a too big, too empty building, became overwhelming. Desperate to break it, Tony nudged Ezra and cracked a joke. “So, do you think our relationship is cursed?”

Ezra, who’d reacted too calmly to the thought of aging, went wide eyed and glanced toward the ceiling. Tony scoffed at him, “I was kidding? Did you seriously just check to see if God was watching us?”

“What? No! That’s absurd. Of course not. We’re just two regular people on a planet of billions. There’s no reason that God would specifically interfere with the two of us.” Ezra downed the entire rest of his cup and sputtered. “When we get home there’s nothing stopping us!”

There were circles beneath Ezra’s eyes, large enough to keep a quarter in and Tony did not doubt for a moment that he had a set to match. He just raised his brows and waited for Ezra to deflate. “Point taken. We’re perhaps a little exhausted. We’ll probably fall asleep the second our heads hit the pillow.”

A new set of footsteps pierced the quiet, and they both looked up to see Marjory Holmes walking towards them, coat on and purse hung over her shoulder. She looked exhausted too, but a good deal happier than she had a few hours earlier.

“Thank you, both of you boys. You really didn’t need to stay.”

“Of course we did. We wanted to make sure everything was alright,” Ezra told her gently. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes. He’ll be in a wheelchair awhile, with his leg in a cast and his arm in one too, but it could’ve been much worse. They’re observing for head trauma, but the doctor seems to think that’s unlikely. His arm took the brunt of the fall. It could have been bad if he’d refused to come though. Thank you boys.”

They were both up now, their own coats pulled on, the Styrofoam cups chucked into a small trash can. Tony put a hand on her shoulder, “You want one of us to drive you home?”

“And we can drive you back tomorrow, if you’d like,” Ezra offered.

“Oh, you don’t need to do that. I’m sure I’ll be fine. I’ve already been too much trouble.”

“Of course not!” said Ezra.

“Yeah, it’s like you told me when I was a kid,” Tony added. “Nothing wrong with accepting help when you need it, just as long as you give help when you can.”

She smiled at him, warmly, and patted him on the cheek. “I did say that, didn’t I? Well, I can’t very well ignore my own advice. Alright, I’ll take the offer.”

In the end, Ezra drove her back in her own car, while Tony took the Mercedes. He was a fast driver and so had already parked and walked over to the Holmes’ before Ezra and Marjory were home. He waited, cold on the stoop, until they finally pulled up.

They helped her in, made sure she was settled and told her to call if she needed anything at all.

“I will. If I need to, but I should be alright. I’ve been messaging with the children and they’ll be down to help me and their father by tomorrow afternoon. It really was a blessing having you around tonight, so thank you.” She squeezed each of their hands as they stepped back into the night air. “I’m sorry for ruining your evening together.”

“Ah, it’s nothing. We were just going to watch some old movie or something,” Tony assured her.

Despite her exhaustion she laughed. “Tony, dear, your shirt’s been inside out the whole evening. Good night.”

He was looking down at his shirt when she closed the door. He and Ezra looked at one another, red-faced in the moonlight.

Tony whispered, “Cursed.”

Chapter Text

For all the chaos and disappointment of the night before, it was a lovely thing to wake up with Anthony in his arms. He had curled himself against Aziraphale’s chest, head resting just under Aziraphale’s chin. There was nowhere to go, no reason to get up. He could simply lay here, enjoying the ticklish sensation of Anthony’s breath on his collar bone, until enough light filtered through the window that Anthony woke of his own accord. 

Someday there might come a time in Aziraphale’s life where this wonderful morning was his every morning. He could not think of a better dream. 

Eventually Anthony squirmed, stretching as he came back to his senses. He began to jerk up, perhaps startled to remember where he was, but this lasted for hardly a moment before he settled back comfortably. He seemed as content to while away the morning as Aziraphale was.

“Good morning, darling. How did you sleep?”

Anthony adjusted himself, turning onto his belly with arms folded between them, so he could look down into Aziraphale’s face. “Didn’t sleep enough, but the sleep I got was good.”

His voice was husky and sent a thrill through Aziraphale’s sense of comfort. It occurred to him then that he was allowed to kiss this wonderful creature and so he did. Anthony tasted different in the morning, but not unpleasantly so. This too Aziraphale could imagine doing every morning for the rest of his life.

Anthony appeared to be enjoying himself as well. When they pulled apart, he gave Aziraphale an easy, sleepy smile. “We could just stay in bed all day. Nothing’s stopping us.”

“Much as I wish that were true, I’m afraid that won’t be possible. I believe someone has promised to pick his mother up from the train station this afternoon.”

“Afternoon’s a long way off,” Anthony argued. His words were not particularly persuasive, but his hands in Aziraphale’s hair were. 

But Aziraphale remained strong. After just a few more kisses, he sat up, forcing Anthony to sit up with him. “Neither of us have a clue how far off the afternoon is. Let me check my watch before we make any decisions.”

Anthony pouted, looking cuter than he likely intended, with his mussed hair and oversized sleepwear. He did not, apparently, own any actual pajamas, instead choosing to sleep in old band t-shirts and sweatpants. Aziraphale had already rented him the car, but perhaps a good set of pajamas would be a good thing to open on Christmas morning. Although, it was nice to see him wearing that band logo of his, with the snake and fiery sword. It made Aziraphale feel unusually possessive.

Aziraphale managed to get to his feet without laying back down by Anthony’s side. Still, he leaned down and kissed him again before finally going over to his neatly folded pile of clothes to grab the glasses and the watch that sat on top. 

“Angel, you got to get yourself a new watch. That thing’s going to fall apart soon.”

“No,” said Aziraphale. “I couldn’t do that. You picked it out for me!”

“When I was six!”

“I fail to see how that changes anything,” Aziraphale said with a sniff. Then he held the face of the watch up for Anthony to see. “It’s 12:03. Do you know when your mother is getting in?”

“Fuck,” said Tony. Then, with a sudden unfolding of long limbs, he was out of bed and running about the room searching for his phone. When he picked it up, the relief was enough to make his limbs sag. “She hasn’t texted yet. I’m good.”

“Probably knew better than to leave at a time when you were still likely to be asleep,” Aziraphale teased. 

Anthony turned and raised an eyebrow. “That’s a lot coming from the guy who just woke up with me.”

“First of all, I was up first, I simply didn’t want to disrupt you. Second, that was out of the ordinary for me—the result of an unusual evening. For you, it’s just how you live.”

“Guess, you’re right,” said Anthony easily. Too easily. Aziraphale’s phone had been resting by Anthony’s and he held it up now. “Your parents didn’t expect you to sleep in so late.”

Aziraphale lunged forward and grabbed the phone. There were four missed texts, two from Edith, two from Elijah. The first was from Elijah and had come just before church services usually started. 

“Hey Buddy, when can we expect you home?”

The next two had come when church services let out. They both belonged to Edith.

“Just noticed you’re still not back. Wanted to make sure everything was ok.” 

“Hope you had a good night.”

He could practically see her, sending the first message and then immediately panicking that she might have upset him. Her second message had been damage control. Elijah’s second message most certainly wasn’t. It had arrived just a few minutes ago and was the shortest yet. 

“Buddy?”

Aziraphale sat heavily on the edge of the futon and frowned down at the screen. Almost immediately, Anthony was beside him, arm around his shoulder. “Things still rough with them?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Things are better with Mother. We talked. A little. I think it helped. Only, it got me second guessing all the ridiculous subterfuge the two of us have been engaging in.”

“We can stop whenever you want, angel. We could go over there right now and tell them, if you want.”

Aziraphale leaned against him. It was nice to have someone to lean against. “But then there’s Father. Just before you came to get me last night, he was at it again. Saying things like I should use their approval as a judgement of what decisions I make.”

Anthony practically hissed through his teeth.

“I think I made it sound worse than it was. There was more of a safety, caring for me, angle to it, but it still got my hackles up. I feel like this stupid secret is this one odd little bit of control and rebellion and…” He stopped. Saying it out loud like that, it had sounded remarkably like the old arrangement with Crowley. He might have had to be prodded and persuaded, but it had been his loop hole, his rebellion, the one place he could be himself entirely, no matter what heaven thought. He did not know what it meant for him to be crawling back into that old pattern when there was significantly less reason to do so. It did not strike him as a good thing. “I should probably tell them soon either way.”

“I mean, the clock is probably ticking. The Holmeses definitely didn’t go to church this morning, so Elijah’s going to check in on them, and every minute Mrs. Holmes doesn’t blab will be a miracle.”

Aziraphale grimaced. “I hadn’t thought of that. Do you really think she’d tell?”

“Not that she thinks she cockblocked us,” said Anthony. Aziraphale sputtered at his language. Anthony chuckled before continuing, “But she’s going to want to tell the whole story, and at the very least that involves revealing that you and I were hanging out last night. That might not tell them everything, but it tells them where you were and that you weren’t out with some rando. If we ask her to hold off, she’ll try, but she’s going to slip up. If we give her an end date, a specific time to wait for, she might be able to hold out for that.”

“When do you think I should tell them then?”

“Like I said, angel, it’s all up to you.” Aziraphale just stared at him and waited. Anthony’s flair for the dramatic won out eventually. “If it were me I’d wait for a couple days after Christmas, ‘til the anniversary of the day you came out. Make it all symbolic. Make them know this is the second chance!”

“I could do that, I suppose,” Aziraphale said. “Although, I’m not sure I actually want to wait that long.”

“Ooh! The 23rd is a Friday, which could mean pizza, but it’s also the anniversary of the first time we met.”

He was absurd, patently absurd, and Aziraphale told him so. “You have an impressive flair for the dramatic and I’ll take it all under advisement. I certainly won’t tell them today though, I’ll wait for some time when all of us are together. I’d like you to be there.”

“Course, angel,” said Anthony. He leaned in, to go for another kiss, when his phone buzzed and drew his attention. “It’s Mom. She needs to be picked up in an hour. I can drop you off on the way, if you’d like. We can grab breakfast before then. I’ll treat you.”

He grinned, all teeth and self-confidence. He knew that he and breakfast together were simply irresistible.

It was 1:00 in the afternoon by the time Aziraphale arrived home. Breakfast, or rather lunch, with Anthony had been lovely despite being rushed. Still, the last twenty-four hours had been entirely too much, and all Aziraphale wanted to do was crawl back into bed and nap until he felt like himself again. There was a hurdle, however, between himself and sweet oblivion. The Clarks were waiting by the door when he walked in.

He had responded to Edith’s text. He’d sent a simple, “Fine. Home by two”. He’d hoped that would be enough to get them to calm down. That hope had been in vain. Elijah opened his mouth before Aziraphale even had his coat off.

“Hey, bud, we were worried. We didn’t expect you to stay out so long.”

Aziraphale was deliberately slow as he toed off his shoes and hung up his coat. He spoke casually, as though he were not expecting for this all to go off the rails once more. “I did tell you I would be out overnight. You saw me bring a bag with me. You couldn’t honestly expect that I’d be rising with the sun and hurrying home, especially on a Sunday morning. Did you want us pulling up in the middle of church services or worse, in the middle of the reception! I’d be the talk of the town.”

“I suppose,” said Elijah. Edith had said nothing at all, she merely hovered behind her husband looking nervous. Aziraphale was uncertain whether she was nervous about what he’d been doing, or nervous about what she might say if she opened her mouth. His best guess was that it was a little of both. Elijah didn’t seem worried about his words at all. “I noticed your guy didn’t help you with your bags.”

“Bag,” said Aziraphale. “Singular.”

He tried to push past them, firm but polite, and stride toward the stairs. If he could reach them, perhaps he could get his nap before anything regrettable happened. He knew he hadn’t been handling any of it well. What he’d told Tony was true, he really ought to say something sooner rather than later. But he was exhausted and now was not the moment.

But Elijah reached out a hand, encouraging him to stop. “Listen, Ezra, before you head up to your room I just… I don’t like how this guy is treating you. He never comes to the door, he just honks and expects you to go to him. The little you’ve said about him doesn’t seem great. I—”

“I don’t want to have this conversation right now,” Aziraphale told him firmly.

“I know but, you don’t seem to want to talk about it ever and—”

“Elijah, honey, I don’t think now is the time…” Edith told him quietly.

“But there’s never going to be a time. There’s only a few more weeks left before Ezra goes home and if we’re walking on eggshells all the time we’re never going to get a chance to actually talk. Ezra, I’m worried and I think we should be able to tell you if we’re worried.”

Had he been fully awake, had he not spent yesterday wound up with anxiety over an expected conversation with Anthony, had he not spent the evening visiting a hospital, had he not spent the two days prior traveling and visiting old friends, he might have had the state of mind to accept that this was not at all unreasonable. They were allowed to be worried; he’d given them a story to worry over. But he could not see that now, and did not have the patience to pick out the nuances of a complex situation. 

“I don’t think you should be able to tell me anything at all. You haven’t the right. You haven’t proven yourself worthy of it. I’ve no reason to believe your concerns come from anywhere other than the fact that he’s male. You can tell me you’ve changed all you like. You can apologize from now til kingdom come, but saying the right things hardly means anything if, when push comes to shove, you just go back to trying to control everything again. You don’t get to decide what I do.”

“Ezra, that’s not fair. I—”

“I don’t care if it’s fair or not. I don’t owe you fair. Now, please, I’d like some time alone.” With that he strode past them and disappeared up the stairs. Not five minutes later, he was curled up in bed fast asleep.

Although he slept for just an hour, he spent the next three in his room. He was a solitary being, by nature, and he hadn’t had a moment to himself in the past four days. He needed this, some time with a book, to simply breathe. He loved the girls he visited, he loved Anthony, but reunions and important conversations didn’t make for relaxation. He’d needed the nap, but he’d needed this more. 

When his mind had calmed, he began to think on the entire ridiculous situation he’d gotten himself into. He wished he hadn’t spoken quite so harshly to Elijah, not that his words had been untrue, just that there had probably been better ways to say them. That and he felt all his subterfuge was losing him the moral high ground. He was getting angry at Elijah for trying to stop a life choice that Aziraphale hadn’t actually made. He really did need to come clean. 

He just wanted Elijah to admit he wasn’t right about everything, that he should just trust Aziraphale to know what was best, that he didn’t need to have everything decided for him and to be ordered about and—He remembered again, his realization that he was, in some ways, reenacting his old relationship with heaven.

Another reason to come clean soon and another reason to go try and have a more reasonable conversation. He was not in the same position he’d been in with heaven. He could be direct now.

Putting his book aside and straightening out his nap wrinkled clothes, he went for the door. As soon as he cracked it open, he did not feel like a grown man going to speak to his parents or an angel dealing with heaven, he felt like a very small boy. The Clarks were arguing down stairs. He could hear their voices echoing up the steps. He ought to go on, ought to be as up front as he’d intended. Instead, he found himself lingering on the landing, trying to catch what they were saying.

It was not an intense argument, but Edith had that cold, calm tone she used when she was having a conversation she did not wish to have. “I just don’t think he’s going to see it the way you think he will. He’s going to see it as another attempt to control him or something like that. He’s not going to see it as an olive branch.”

“Well, maybe not, but I still think it’s the best choice. It’ll certainly show him that I’m not uncomfortable with him being gay.” There was a silence. “Fine, maybe I’m still a little uncomfortable, but I know that’s my problem and it’ll show him that I won’t let that get in the way. Besides, Edith, you can’t tell me you’re happy with what’s been going on. If this can push him in a better direction, that can’t be a bad thing.”

Aziraphale was completely bewildered now. He didn’t know what they were talking about, but he was certain he didn’t like it. 

“He doesn’t want to be pushed. It’s the pushing that bothers him. Trust me, if that wasn’t true I’d be doing some pushing of my own. I have plenty of pushing I’d like to do.”

“Look, if you really, really think this is a terrible idea I can call him back and uninvite him. He shouldn’t have gotten on the road just yet.”

Edith sighed so long and loud that Aziraphale thought she must have hurt herself doing it. “Don’t uninvite him. It’ll be fine to have a dinner guest and Ezra will probably be happy to see him. But leave it at that. Don’t meddle any further.”

“I’ll try,” said Elijah, joy evident from his voice alone. “I’ll go wake Ezra up and tell him to dress nice.”

“‘Dress nice’ is meddling,” Edith told him.

“I’ll tell him to expect a guest for dinner then. He should know in advance; he doesn’t like surprise social situations.” Panicked, Aziraphale fled back to his room to pretend he hadn’t been listening in. Just before he shut the door he heard Edith say something too quiet for him to make out, to which Elijah responded. “Well, a little surprise is okay.”

Aziraphale had just positioned himself to be casually reading on the bed, when the expected knock came on the door. “Yes? Come in.”

Elijah stuck his head in. He looked a little nervous, but not enough to overpower the clear joy he felt over having won his argument. “Hey, buddy. Did you just wake up?”

Aziraphale considered his answer. He’d been intending to make peace, but after the odd conversation he’d heard he was no longer sure he wanted to. Still, if he thought the secrets were a poor choice, he shouldn’t be retreating into petty secrets now. Well, besides pretending he hadn’t been eavesdropping.

“No, I’ve been up for quite some time actually. I needed a few hours to myself after all the visiting I’ve been doing. I get a bit short tempered when I don’t get time to myself.” He offered a slightly apologetic smile and received one in response.

“I probably should have thought of that before trying to have a heavy conversation with you. Sorry.”

Aziraphale gave a small nod and let Elijah decide what that meant. Aziraphale wasn’t entirely sure himself. 

Elijah kept talking, “So, considering that you’ve had a bit too much of people for the past few days, I hope it won’t be too upsetting to hear we’re having a guest for dinner.”

“I suppose it depends on who it is,” Aziraphale answered truthfully. “I could easily handle the Jays or even the Holmeses.”

“Uh, it’s neither of them. Actually I don’t think the Holmeses will be visiting anytime soon. Apparently James had a pretty bad fall last night. He’s doing alright now, Tony actually helped get them to the hospital, but, uh, he’ll be laid up for a bit.”

So, Marjory had kept Aziraphale’s secret so far. Anthony must have called her, or else had his mother do it. Aziraphale added to his web of lies, “Oh, that’s a shame to hear.”

“Yeah. We should go visit them sometime this week. Right now their kids have come down to visit, but later we should go.”

“I’d like that,” said Aziraphale. “But about that guest?”

“Oh, right, look at me forgetting why I came in here. So, I think you know about the group of clergy I meet up with every week?”

This was a turn Aziraphale had not expected. He scrunched up his brow, “The, er, the gay affirming clergymen?”

“Right! I started going years ago, when I started… uh…”

“Anthony would say when you started taking your head out of your ass,” said Aziraphale. Invoking Anthony’s name allowed him to say it too, without feeling quite as rude.

Elijah laughed, clearly uncomfortable. “Yeah, Tony would say that. And yes, that group. I’ve kept going, become more of a member and less of a devil’s advocate, if you’ll ignore the weightiness of that phrase. Anyway, I invited one of the members to come eat with us tonight. He’s the youngest member we’ve got right now. Just a little older than you. I probably actually should have told you about him before, but I was worried it would sound like I was, I don’t know, trying to win points with you or something.”

“Why would it seem like that?” Aziraphale asked. The existence of some young pastor hardly seemed like something worth awarding points of any kind over.

“You’ll see, at this point I think it’ll be a fun surprise.” Elijah beamed, pleased with himself. He seemed to think this young man was something special. “Anyway, I’ll leave you alone now, but I wanted to give you a heads up. He should be here in about an hour and a half.”

With an awkward little nod, Elijah closed the door, leaving Aziraphale to his thoughts. He had only one guess about what Elijah must be up to, based on what little he’d said and the conversation Aziraphale had overheard. This young man was likely gay himself and Elijah was hoping perhaps that he was a better choice than the one he thought Aziraphale was making. 

Aziraphale supposed that wasn’t so terrible. Elijah was right in that it would show he wasn’t bothered by Aziraphale dating men in general, and Edith was right in that it still showed he was pushy. He wondered, vaguely, what she’d meant by her own desire to push. Was there some young teacher at the school she’d been eying for him? If that was the way of all this it made his lying even more regrettable. He could have put a cap on all this beaux finding from the start. 

Either way, he’d simply have to be polite but clearly uninterested and hope that this young man would get the picture. Feeling prepared and rested enough to weather the evening, Aziraphale changed into something clean but not flirtatious even by his own unique standards. Then he made his way downstairs to help Edith with dinner. 

She might have admitted to wanting to be pushy, but she’d also stood up for him, and that deserved an extra hand with the chicken cutlets.

At 5:57 the doorbell rang. Dinner was happily cooking in the oven, the table had been set, and Aziraphale and the Clarks were idly watching the evening news. Elijah stood, gave Aziraphale an impish grin, and jerked his head toward the door. “Come on, I’ll introduce you. Or, reintroduce you might be more accurate.”

“Re…” Aziraphale was now completely bewildered. Bewildered enough that he stood without further question and followed Elijah to the front door. Behind him he heard Edith make a little huff. Whatever was going on, she still did not approve. 

Still smiling with almost Anthony like mischief, Elijah opened the door. Aziraphale did not immediately recognize the young man waiting on the stoop. Whoever this was, he had not been a man when last they’d met.

Then suddenly all the details fell into place. He remembered that wispy brown hair framing a thinner face, he remembered that frame when it had been even more willowy. He remembered the smile when it had been shyer, those large eyes when they’d been less confident. He remembered this man when he’d only been a high school boy.

“Martin…” Aziraphale said softly.

“I wasn’t sure you’d recognize me.” Martin’s thin smile grew wider, “You’ve hardly changed at all, Ezra.” 

Aziraphale had met Martin the summer after his first year of high school. Elijah had pressured him to join the Westwich youth group on a two week trip to a church camp. Martin had been there with his own youth group, a year older and year more experienced, at least by all appearances. But Aziraphale, of course, had not been as fourteen as he looked and so, while Martin had developed something of a crush on him, Aziraphale had developed something more akin to a grandfatherly affection. He’d pitied the poor boy, who had been deeply religious, deeply homosexual, and deeply, deeply confused. 

“Come in, come in, I’m leaving you out there in the cold. Let me hang your coat up,” said Aziraphale.

“I’ve got the coat!” said Elijah, “You just show Martin in.”

And suddenly Elijah’s entire plan clicked. His meddling was more clever than Aziraphale had given him credit for. This wasn’t just him throwing the first gay man he’d found in Aziraphale’s direction, there’d been some thought involved.

“Martin this is my mother, Edith. I don’t believe you’ve ever met.”

Martin smiled, his dimples were not as clear as Anthony’s. “We have actually. She’s come to some of our meetings with your dad. It’s nice to see you again Mrs. Clark.”

“It’s nice to see you Reverend Briggs.”

Aziraphale’s brain came to a halt. “Reverend Briggs?”

Martin laughed. “Elijah really didn’t tell you much, did he?”

“I thought Martin should get to tell all his own story! You two can start getting caught up while I help Edith get dinner to the table, alright?” Elijah stood between them, a hand on each of their shoulders, grinning from ear to ear. 

“Sounds great,” said Martin. Aziraphale, overwhelmed and caught off guard, simply nodded.

The conversation waited until the Clarks had left the room, although Aziraphale had noticed Edith dragging her feet. Once they were gone, he turned to Martin. “So you’re a pastor?”

“A priest actually. Episcopal,” Martin said.

Aziraphale was not particularly familiar with the Episcopal church but, from his understanding, it had a great deal in common with the old Church of England back home. It had simply been rebranded after the American Revolution made the old name less appealing in the new country.

“There’s a great deal of information I’m missing there. How did all that happen? You were still a member of the Methodist Church when we stopped writing to one another. I am sorry about that.”

“Don’t apologize. I stopped writing too.” Martin laughed, uncomfortable, and stared down at his hands. He suddenly looked a little like the nervous boy he’d been when they first met. “I still thought about you though. The things you said to me that summer, they really changed my whole life. I should thank you for that.”

Aziraphale tried to remember exactly what he’d said, besides ‘I don’t share your feelings’ when Martin had tried to kiss him. He sort of doubted that’s what was meant.

“I had always felt like there was something wrong with me. That I couldn’t love God and be gay at the same time. You made me believe, for the first time, that that simply wasn’t true. When I was in college I finally had the chance to really explore that. I spent a lot of time trying to find a place where I could be myself both as a religious guy and as a gay man, and I found that in the Episcopal church. When I was a kid, a little kid, I’d always wanted to be a pastor, but I’d long since decided that would never be possible. After I switched denominations though, that didn’t seem so impossible anymore. So, thank you, I really wouldn’t be who I am today without you.”

Aziraphale beamed at him. This was a proper angelic job done right, and he hadn’t needed an ounce of power to do it. Here was a young man, who could have been lost in a dozen ways, who’d found himself and was undoubtedly making the lives of others better. “It’s wonderful to hear that.”

“How are things with you? Your dad mentioned you’re doing something with books now? Publishing, I think.”

“Yes, I’m an editor at a literary agency in London.”

“That seems perfect for you. I remember you curling up with a book every moment you got to yourself at the camp.” Martin was smiling at him in a way that made his eyes crinkle and, suddenly, Aziraphale was on edge.

He’d assumed that the boyhood crush that had led to their one unfortunate kiss was gone with the years, but he’d misinterpreted Martin’s actions before. Hell, he’d done the same with Anthony, and Anthony hadn’t been remotely subtle. Before he had a chance to clarify his boundaries, however, Elijah called them into dinner.

They were sat, by Elijah, right next to one another. Aziraphale might have been uncertain of Martin’s intentions, but Elijah’s were obvious. This was a set up. Every chance he got, Elijah turned the conversation back to the two of them, encouraging discussion and reminiscence. He had them discussing the camp, of course, but also their differing high school drama departments, university experiences, living situations. 

On edge as he was, Aziraphale really did enjoy speaking with Martin. They had been friends once, and it was easier to speak with him now that he was a proper adult. Aziraphale just hoped he wasn’t giving the wrong impression. 

“I wish I’d brought the two of you back together earlier, to be honest. I didn’t want to interfere with Ezra’s visit, but I think it might have been easier for him if he’d had someone his age to show him around!” said Elijah, when the conversation lulled for just a moment.

“You’re making it sound like I’ve been sitting around with the elderly. I’ve spent plenty of time with Anthony.”

“Ah, but Tony’s still a kid, really.” When Aziraphale made a face, he changed tack, “I mean, when you were looking for bars and places to go, he couldn’t help you with that. He’s still too young. Martin lives a little bit north, but not too bad. He could’ve showed you around.”

“I’m sure Martin had better things to do,” said Aziraphale.

Martin let out a self-deprecating little laugh. Elijah seized on it, “See? Martin could use the company too. We’ve all noticed you staying longer at meetings, Martin.”

“Was it that obvious?” He sighed. “My boyfriend got a job offer in California a couple months back. I haven’t really known what to do with myself since we broke up. I didn’t think everyone would notice.”

Aziraphale tensed. Martin had just revealed he was single, had it been Elijah’s machinations that had drawn this out, or had he revealed it for reasons of his own? Across the table, he noticed Edith tense too. 

“There’s no shame in being single,” said Elijah, training his face into something other than a smile. “Ezra’s single too.”

He had all the subtly of a bus to the face. 

“He’s not entirely single,” said Edith quietly.

“I thought this current relationship was just a holiday fling. Was I wrong, Ez?” 

Now they were all looking at him. He swallowed heavily. “Well I, I wouldn’t call the relationship I’ve described to you serious by any means.”

“Right. So he’s still single!” Elijah announced. There was another awkward laugh from Martin, more tension from Edith, and Aziraphale wanted to melt into the floor. He could not imagine this would have been any better if he’d actually been single. “So Martin, how do you feel about board games?”

“Uh, I like them alright.”

“We could play some, while we have dessert, if you don’t mind staying later. It would be great to have even numbers for some that require team mates. Wouldn’t it?”

Aziraphale made an uncomfortable noise, not knowing how to escape this. 

“Sounds fun,” said Martin.

“Excuse me,” said Edith, and she left the room.

For all the effort she’d put into trying to respect his wishes these past few days, she was clearly still struggling with the idea of him dating. She didn’t want Elijah setting him up. She didn’t want to see this. He’d give her his most generous interpretation and assume this was more of her infantilizing him, rather than her being homophobic. Still, it was obvious that she wanted all this to stop and it became even more obvious fifteen minutes later, when they were settling down to play Pictionary over a plate of cookies and a knock came at the door.

This time it was Edith who hurried to answer it. When she returned, she was smiling as mischievously as Elijah earlier that evening. “I thought we could have a couple more if this was going to turn into a game night!”

Just behind her were the Jays.

Chapter Text

It had been one of the odder days in Tony’s life. It had started perfectly, wrapped up in Ezra’s arms, and just gone off the rails from there. The first strangeness had come when he’d picked his mother up at the train station.

He’d raised his brow and asked, “Did you have a good time in New York?”

She’d nodded and smiled. “Yeah, a good time.”

He’d waited for her to explain further. She hadn’t. So, he’d been more direct. “Anything you want to tell me?”

There had been a long pause and then she’d laughed uncomfortably and said. “I still know how to ice skate and Xave really doesn’t.”

“So you did end up going out together?” They’d been in the car by then, sitting side by side, able to talk without having to look at each other.

“Yeah, we did. We went out together. We spent most of the weekend together.” With sudden seriousness she added, “Is that alright?”

“I encouraged it,” Tony had told her, telling himself nothing about any of this made him uncomfortable. “So, are things, uh, serious?”

This time she was quiet, staring out the window for some time before she answered. “I don’t want to keep secrets, not after everything I’ve said about you and Ezra, but this is weird territory. I’ve never told you much about my relationships, not unless I thought they might get long term and serious, and I figure that’s fair. I’m entitled to that privacy, and you’re entitled not to hear too much about everything your mom gets up to. But I guess this isn’t exactly the same as before, since you’re friends with him and coworkers. So, for now I guess I’ll just say, I don’t know where this is going, but I will tell you if it becomes something official. For now, just know that we went out and we’ll probably go out again.”

Tony both wanted to know more and did not want to know anything else at all. He considered trying to get Xave’s perspective on it all but, when he’d received a text at 3:30 which simply read “We cool?” he only wrote back with a thumbs up and no further requests for information. He was made of curiosity, but there were some things it was okay not to know. 

Still, he wished he could have been just as mysterious with his mother about his own evening, instead he’d had to tell her about the Holmeses and live with the fact that Marjory would probably mention his shirt. 

At least he’d had the foresight to take his and Ezra’s bag of supplies to his room, instead of leaving it out on the coffee table. He should be entitled to some mystery.

That should have been it, for Tony’s weird day, but the home phone had rung after dinner and his mother had announced they were going for board games at the Clarks. When Tony had rolled his eyes and said, “Seriously, tonight?”

She’d raised her eyebrows and fed his jealousy, “We don’t have to, but they have a guest over and she thought it would be nice to have more people. The guest is that Martin kid Ezra met at summer camp.”

Tony had had them in the car in under a minute. Martin. He remembered Martin. Martin had been fifteen and tall and Tony hadn’t had a crush on Ezra yet, but he had been jealous. Martin had been in high school and Ezra had liked him, at least a little. Tony had been small and weak and just some stupid elementary school kid. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Ezra to be loyal to him, but Ezra could be oblivious about these things. Tony needed to make it very clear to Martin that Ezra would not be interested in him, because Tony was tall now and had leather pants and played rock music. 

Then they were there, and the door was open, and there was Martin in a flattering sweater and a serious haircut. He looked like the sort of person people would expect Ezra to date and for a moment Tony was nine years old again, feeling out of place and full of doubt. But, then he met Ezra’s eyes, surprised but grateful to see him. All confidence back, Tony remembered how to swagger.

He let Edith lead the way, but behind her he sauntered. Edith introduced them. “I think you must have met the Jays back ages ago in that camp, since they went up to stay after… Well, they went up to stay. This is Maddy and this is Tony.”

Martin did not say a word. He was utterly dumbfounded. He just kept staring at Tony, blinking with his mouth hanging open. Perhaps Tony shouldn’t have swaggered so hard. It somehow hadn’t occurred to him that if Martin realized he was attractive now, there were options other than jealousy. 

Martin held his hand out, gesturing to roughly the height of a child. “You… your Ezra’s little friend? You know, first thing I said to Ezra was that he’d hardly changed at all. I cannot say the same for you.” He seemed to regain himself and then said. “It’s nice to meet you again, and you Ma’am.”

“Good to see you,” said Maddy.

“Same,” said Tony. He was no longer entirely sure how to play this. He just wanted to sit next to Ezra.

But Elijah did not allow that. 

“What a surprise, I wasn’t expecting the two of you.” Here he raised an eyebrow at Edith, who said nothing. “We were just about to play Pictionary. Edith and I are on a team, and Martin and Ezra are together, so why don’t you two pair up?”

Tony did not want to play Pictionary with his mother. For one thing, he and Ezra were the indisputable champions at this sort of game. They understood each other; they always had. More importantly, however, was the layout of the seats. The Clarks sat together on the edge of the couch closer to the stairs. This meant the remaining cushion, where Maddy was bound to sit as the only other over forty in the group, was by the door. As her partner, Tony would wind on the floor near her feet. And this was not nearly close enough to Ezra, who was sitting on the floor near the arm chair completely on the other end of the coffee table. There he was, right near Martin, where Tony couldn’t curl up next to him. 

He was starting to suspect that persuading Ezra to follow his pettiest impulses might have been some sort of mistake.

“Mom, you sure you want to sit on the couch?” he tried, “ You could join me on the floor. It’s closer to the fireplace. It’s nice and warm.”

“I think I’d rather have the cushion.” She knew what he wanted. If they were both on the floor, he would have an excuse to scoot over and make room by putting himself closer to Ezra. But she wasn’t going to let him have that, he could tell by the slight raise of her eyebrow. She thought they’d dug this hole for themselves. She was right, but she didn’t need to rub it in. 

In the end the Jays won at Pictionary, but it was a hollow victory. A victory that came while watching Ezra and Martin laugh over their awkward doodles, giggling as they failed to understand each other. There was nothing flirtatious about it, really. They were just having fun, but Tony sat and stewed in the knowledge that he would have understood most of Ezra’s scribbles and that they would have had fun bickering over the ones they didn’t get. 

“It’s not too late yet,” Elijah announced, looking at his watch. “How about another game?”

“I don’t mind staying, if everyone else is up for it,” said Martin. “Mondays aren’t the busiest day of my week or Elijah’s and I know Ezra’s off, but I don’t know about the rest of you.”

“I’ve got a couple more hours in me,” Maddy said.

Edith nodded. “The week before Christmas isn’t the most productive at school anyway. I can stay up a little.”

Tony, who was trying to figure out some way to get on Ezra’s team for the next game just said, “ ‘mfine.”

Elijah had not waited for all these approvals. As soon as Martin had voiced a willingness to stay, he’d begun to dig through a cabinet filled with old board games. He was being picky about choices and had not yet brought any of them over.

Martin filled the silence. “So, Tony, are you home on break right now?”

Tony blinked at him. “Break?”

“I thought… I guess I shouldn’t have assumed, but I thought you were in college.”

For the first time since deciding not to attend, Tony felt acutely aware of his lack of higher education. He didn’t know how many years of college it took to become a priest or a pastor or whatever, but it definitely took some amount. Some amount that put Martin closer to Ezra’s league. Tony buried his self-consciousness beneath intense indifference. “Oh. That? No. Didn’t go.”

“Anthony got hired to be in a rock and roll band when he was still in high school! He had to take his exams early and everything so that he could go on tour before graduation. They originally did 1980s songs but they’ve since published their own original album. Anthony wrote everything on it!” There was no better cure for a shot to Tony’s confidence than Ezra’s beaming pride. He practically glowed with it.

“Wow! That’s really cool.” Martin laughed. “Now that I think about it, I remember Ezra bragging about you being a great musician when you were still just a kid.”

“I like bragging about him!” said Ezra. He looked at Tony, eyes twinkling and, for a moment, the rest of the world went hazy. There was nothing but the two of them.

“Hey Elijah, what’s taking so long?” Maddy asked. Her voice brought Tony back to earth. It was a good thing too, if they’d stared at each other like that much longer they’d have given themselves away.

“I’m looking for another pair game. I thought we had Taboo…”

“If we’re doing another pair game, maybe we should switch up the partners,” Maddy suggested. She was an excellent mother, the very best mother, an absolute hero among mothers.

Edith immediately agreed. “Oh, that could be fun!” 

“I call Ezra!” Tony said quickly. He was not going to let this chance slip away. Besides, Ezra was freakishly good at any sort of word game so Tony had an excuse other than jealousy. No one was going to doubt his petty desire to win.

But his reasoning did not apparently matter. Elijah stood up abruptly and turned back to the group. “We can decide all that stuff later. But uh, I think the game might actually be over in the church. We hosted a charity game night a couple months ago and it must have got left over there.”

“Couldn’t we just play one of the many other games?” asked Ezra.

“Oh, but pair games are fun and we don’t always have the right group to play them. It’s easy, I’ll just go get it and any other games I see over there,” Elijah said. Then he turned his eyes in Tony’s direction. “Tony, can you help me?”

“Me?”

“Yeah, why not? You’re young and spry. Let’s go!”

Tony considered saying “I don’t fucking want to” but Elijah was too quick for him. He’d made his way into the foyer before Tony got his mind together. At that point staying seated stubbornly on the floor would have made him look like an immature idiot. So, annoyed, he followed.

He watched as Elijah strode through the chilly darkness, his face lit by the twinkling of Christmas decorations. Every so often he’d turn back to see if Tony was still following him and he’d give an uncomfortable and somehow giddy little smile. There was something odd about him tonight, and Tony couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Was he just so proud to have brought a gay friend home to his gay son that he couldn’t contain it? Did it feel that good to not be a monster anymore?

And then it hit him. Elijah hadn’t brought a gay friend home to his gay son, he’d brought a gay friend home for his gay son. He’d been the one who’d invited Martin over. He’d been the one to pair him up with Ezra for games. He was the one who didn’t want anyone else getting in the way of the two of them talking. The recovering homophobe was trying to set his son up with a man he approved of and he’d completely overlooked Tony as an option.

“Come on, Tony. Hurry up, it’s cold out here!” They’d reached the church and Elijah now held open the door to the fellowship hall. He shut it hard once Tony was through. “Not much warmer in here, is it?”

“Why are we really here?” Tony asked. It was cold and this was stupid and Ezra was a few yards away without him. 

“Guess I wasn’t exactly subtle, huh?” Elijah laughed uncomfortably. Tony just shook his head and waited for more. He wanted to know how Elijah was going to explain all this. The pastor sighed. “I don’t know how well you remember that week at summer camp, you had so much to deal with of your own, you probably weren’t paying much attention to Ezra. But, ever since Martin began attending our clergy meetings, as I’ve gotten to know him, I’ve realized that Ezra was already hiding himself from me back then. And I was hoping, maybe, I could give him another chance at what could probably have been a really great relationship for him, instead of what’s happening now with him hanging around with men who don’t respect him or treat him right. I want him to have a chance to have the positive sort of relationships that I didn’t let him have before.”

Tony did not know where to start with any of this. What he really wanted to do was shout ‘What about me?’ and gesture wildly to himself. That was not an option because, like an absolute idiot, he’d persuaded Ezra to play stupid games. There were, however, plenty of other ways he could be angry. “Probably weren’t paying attention? Of course I was paying attention! I thought back then that he had a crush on Martin.”

Elijah blinked. “Had he already told you?”

“No, but he didn’t need to.” Tony let it sound like he’d just sort of known. That wasn’t true; his mother had had to explain it to him. “Do you not remember me asking if you’d always have his back? If you’d always take care of him? That’s why I asked! And you promised. And you lied.”

They had not turned the lights on in the building, but the glow of the large light-up creche outside illuminated Elijah’s face enough for Tony to watch his expression. He closed his eyes, like a man in pain, and when he opened them he looked utterly desolate. “The more I learn, the more I realize just how much I hurt the two of you. Good God, Tony, I had no idea you were already worrying about that. You were probably asking for yourself too and right after you father had—”

“No. It wasn’t—I didn’t know about me yet. I was really just worried about him. I always worried about him.”

“Of course you did.” Elijah smiled now, proud of Tony where he wasn’t proud of himself. “You know, this whole trip, while I’ve been worrying about Ezra going out at night, I’ve never been worried when he’s with you. You’ve always been such a good friend to him, despite the fact that you’ve always been at such different points in growing up. I’m glad he has that, whatever else happens.”

“So, why did you whisk me away to the church?”

“Oh, well, it’s partly because you two are such good friends. I want him to get a chance to really talk with Martin, and I’m not sure he’ll do that when you’re around. I thought maybe if we could talk, I could get you on my side in this. You could help me push them together a little. I can’t think of anyone better at scheming for Ezra’s best interest.”

Tony made an odd sound, a bit like air slowly leaking from a balloon. Oh, he got up to mischief related to Ezra alright, and that was why he was standing here in a dark church with Pastor Clark while Ezra was being set up with some other guy. 

“Good!” said Elijah, who’d evidently taken the noise as agreement. He stepped forward and pulled Tony into a quick hug. “It’s been nice having you around again, Tony. I always hoped that patching things up with Ezra might bring you back too. You’re part of the family and the best friend I could have asked for my son. If I had a nice boy your age, I’d try and set you up with someone too!” 

“I’m good,” Tony said weakly. He was frustrated with himself and frustrated that Elijah was being all heartfelt when Tony wanted to be mad at him. 

“Well, I can’t offer you that but, I have been thinking… since your mom and you are going to be around on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, I wasn’t sure if you were going to attend services or not. If you are though, I’d love to have you play again, like you did when you were little. I miss having you play. I miss hearing you practice on the grand piano when I’m in the church alone. That was one of my favorite things before you and your mom moved out.”

“Yeah… I don’t think I’ll be going to church but thanks.”

Elijah made an attempt, although not a particularly good one, to cover his disappointment. “Right. Of course. Uh, let’s go see if we can find that game, shall we?”

He hurried toward the stair well, leaving Tony to sigh and follow. This day just kept getting worse.

Much as Aziraphale rather liked the view of Anthony’s backside, he was forlorn to see him leave. If he’d simply been upfront and direct with the Clarks in the first place, the man he loved would not be leaving while he stayed here with a cordial acquaintance. 

Beside him, Martin was starting to look a bit more like the awkward teenager Aziraphale remembered. He was picking up on the generally strange energy of the evening and he smiled uncomfortably. “I hope I haven’t been too much trouble. I didn’t mean for them to have to go find something new to play. I’d be happy with anything.”

Edith, through her cold politeness, took pity on him. “Oh, don’t worry. Elijah’s just… he really wants tonight to go well and he’s getting carried away. It’s certainly not your fault. Would anyone like coffee or tea?”

For anyone else, this last comment might have seemed a non sequitur, but, for Edith, food was always kindness. Martin took to it happily. “Coffee sounds great.”

“If you’ve got decaf, I’ll have some,” said Maddy. “Otherwise I’ll pass. It’ll keep me up too late.”

Before Aziraphale could even request his tea, Edith spoke again. “Great! Ezra can you come help me?”

So, it was more than kindness; she was making up excuses to split the party too. Warily, Aziraphale followed her into the kitchen. Behind him, he heard Maddy pick up the slack of the conversation, asking Martin all about his journey into the Episcopal priesthood. 

There was little for Aziraphale to do in the kitchen, but he set himself to fetching mugs while Edith put the water on to boil. “So, honey, how are you liking Martin? Is it odd seeing him again after so long?”

“I was certainly surprised, I can say that. And it is good to see him again, he was so… uncomfortable with himself last we met that it’s good to know where the story went, if you understand my meaning.”

Edith was quiet again as she spooned instant coffee from different colored jars into mugs for the guests. Beside her, Aziraphale quietly attended to his tea and waited for what she intended to say next.

“You know why your father invited him?”

“I can guess,” said Aziraphale.

“I just want you to know… it’s alright if you don’t feel anything more for him than friendship. Sometimes friendships are just friendships and sometimes they’re not. Sometimes they can be more, but sometimes they’re friendships. And it’s alright if Martin is just a friendship.” 

Aziraphale watched her out of the corner of his eye. She was nervous and he rather thought he knew why. “You don’t need to say more. I can tell seeing me with him makes you uncomfortable.”

“That’s not…” She sighed heavily and stabbed spoons into the coffee powder with more frustration than he usually saw from her. “I just… Never mind. I’m doing it again. I’m pushing. I’m sorry. You can go back in the other room. I’ll bring everything out.”

Edith was legitimately upset, legitimately frustrated, but other than her own lingering bigotry Aziraphale couldn’t imagine why. He was beginning to sense that, like him, she too was keeping secrets. Either way, he had his own tangled web to worry about and he could worry about it just as well by the fire in the living room. 

Only he wasn’t going to get the opportunity because, as soon as he was back in the living room, it was Maddy’s turn for a poor excuse for a private conversation. She popped right up the moment she saw him. “Hey, Ez, can you walk me out to the car? I left something in there.”

Had it been either of the Clarks he would have immediately questioned the request, but he felt he owed Maddy. The very least he could do was agree in the moment. “Certainly. It is rather dark out, isn’t it? But, er, Martin do you mind?”

“I’ll just go help your mom out. It’s fine.” He really was a nice boy. If Aziraphale could have miracled him up a partner, he would have done it. Just now though he gave a thankful little smile and followed Maddy.

It was only when they were outside that he remembered he’d been avoiding her one on one. They hadn’t spoken much since she’d caught Anthony snogging the life out of him in her living room. Aziraphale turned pink at the thought. His feet continued to follow her, his mind began to seek for some path of escape.

She turned the car on when they reached it, opening the door and climbing in so she could turn on the heat. Despite the cold, Ezra stood outside until he was explicitly asked to join her. He did so reluctantly.

Once he was seated, Maddy turned to him with a pitying smile. “First things first, Ez, why don’t you want to talk to me?”

“Oh, well… you know… what with everything…” said Aziraphale. Then he went quiet.

“Ez, that doesn’t mean anything.”

He was turning pinker by the second and he was now convinced he would have been perfectly warm outdoors. “Oh! Surely you know!”

“Tony said you were embarrassed because I saw you guys kissing. Is that actually it? I thought he was joking.” She laughed, but stopped when she saw Aziraphale wasn’t. “Ez, I’m thrilled the two of you are together. Absolutely thrilled! And like, no, I don’t want to hear intimate details, but I’m glad to know there are intimate details for me not to hear about. I just want my kid to be happy and nothing makes him happier than you.”

Now Aziraphale’s flush was less of embarrassment and more of pleasure. Nothing makes him happier than you . He would have been glad to have that embroidered on a pillow. 

“So, are we cool?” asked Maddy.

“Yes. We are,” Aziraphale told her. “Was that all you wanted to discuss?”

“No. Honestly, I thought you were avoiding me because you were afraid I would lecture about lying to your parents. And I’d sworn I wouldn’t do that.” She was quiet for a just a moment before barreling on. “But Ez, I’ve got to say something again, because this is ridiculous. There are so many little secrets and sidebar conversations going on that poor Martin’s got to be sitting in there wondering if he’s wandered into some sort of weird interactive theatrical production. You can’t keep this up.”

“I know!” Aziraphale snapped. “I know it’s gotten out of hand. I just… I wanted to do this all on my on time and I… I’m still so frustrated with them. Neither can stop trying to control what I do or judging the decisions I make and I… I was hoping everything would be water under the bridge, but it’s not. Or at the very least I can’t stop myself from leaning over the bridge to contemplate the water that’s already passed. I wanted it to be better before I told them but, it’s not all better yet.”

“I guess it doesn’t help for me to be needling in with advice about your decisions too.”

“No…” said Aziraphale, thinking about it seriously for the first time as he said it. “It doesn’t bother me when you do it. I don’t know why. Perhaps because I feel you’ve earned the right. Or perhaps because I think you’d listen to my advice in turn. It doesn’t feel controlling, it feels like legitimate concern.”

Maddy reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. “In that case, I’ve got just one more thing to say. I don’t know if everything will ever be all better, but I do know that keeping secrets isn’t going to help. You guys have to talk out in the open; total honesty. And, I really think it’ll go better than you think it will.”

“I’ll tell them. Soon. This week I’ll tell them. I just need some time to plan it all out. I—” 

He never got to finish. There was a knock on the window and he saw Elijah through the glass waving at them. Anthony, cold and miserable, stood behind him clutching the lost game box. Elijah called at them, “Everything alright?”

Maddy opened the door. “Yeah, we were just having a little heart to heart. Ezra was helping me get… Gum.”

It was the first thing she could grab from where she was sitting and Aziraphale saw her wince when the words came out of her mouth. Elijah did not question it; he knew she’d been there for Aziraphale when he hadn’t. He was not surprised to see them talking. “Are you ready to come in?”

“Yup, all ready.” She turned off the car and hopped out, “Come on, Ez, let’s go back in.”

All Tony wanted in the world was to speak to Ezra alone. Just five minutes alone would have made everything better, but Elijah and Maddy stood between them as they walked back into the house. Tony was still clutching Taboo, another stupid game where he and Ezra would not be paired up, where he’d watch sadly from across the room. He walked slowly, tromping into the house last, so that everyone was settled before he had his second boot off. 

Edith had made hot drinks while he was gone, one for everyone but him. That was fine. That was how his night was going. He came in, put the game on the table and started to lower himself to sit. Edith interrupted. “Tony, come with me to the kitchen and I’ll get you something. I wasn’t actually sure what you’d want.”

She was up from her own seat and taking him by the arm before he’d even reached the ground. He let himself be lead away in confusion. The moment they were in the kitchen, Edith rounded on him and pulled him into a hug. 

Ezra hadn’t hugged him yet tonight, but somehow both of his parents had.

“Oh, Tony, you poor thing.”

“I mean, it’s just coffee,” said Tony.

“Oh, honey, I didn’t mean that. Although I will get you something. Would you like hot chocolate? I’ll put the water back on.” She did this without waiting for a response and then returned to put a hand on his arm. “I just wanted to check in and make sure you’re doing alright. I shouldn’t have called your mother. Tonight must be so hard on you. This whole trip must be so hard on you.”

Tony had the odd sensation of having turned on the television halfway through an episode. He was missing information. “Huh?”

“Sweetie, you don’t have to play dumb with me. When I asked you back in high school how you felt about Ezra, you told me you didn’t like him like that, but I know you’ve got a crush on him. I’d really hoped that… Well, it just must be really hard with Ezra overlooking you like this.”

Tony stared at her. He’d known she’d suspected once. He had not known she suspected still. More than that, he hadn’t known she’d be so fully invested in his side of things. And, now that he did know, a lot more began to slide into place. 

It had not made sense to him that she’d seemed so unsupportive of Ezra going out or him dating. None of the things Ezra had complained about had seemed to fit. It all made sense now. It wasn’t that she didn’t think Ezra should be dating, it was that she thought Ezra should be dating Tony. 

Elijah might have overlooked him, but she hadn’t. It took everything in him not to grin wildly. This was wonderful, but damn, if he’d wanted to speak to Ezra before, he wanted it doubly so now. 

He hugged Edith back. “I’ll be alright. I just, I’ll take that hot chocolate in a moment. I’ve got to go do something.”

If Elijah could make up stupid reasons to get Tony one on one and his mother could claim gum as a reason to talk to Ezra, than there was no reason Tony shouldn’t play that game too. He hurried back into the living room. There Ezra was reading the game directions.

“I’m serious, it’s not a partner’s game. You’ve misremembered. It’s for two even numbered teams, not multiple teams of two.”

“Seriously?” asked Elijah. “I guess I’ve never played it with more than four people…”

“We could do teams,” said Martin. “Tony could join us.”

“That sounds lovely!” Ezra agreed.

Ten minutes ago, that would have been enough for Tony. It wasn’t anymore. He needed to talk to Ezra and he wasn’t going to wait. “Hey, angel, I think I left a light on in the church when your dad and I were over there. Come with me.”

Elijah turned. “Tony I can—”

“Nope. Just him,” said Tony. “Very important. Definitely a job for two young, spry people, or whatever. Angel. Please.”

Ezra did not need the encouragement. He was up, quick as could be, and hurrying with Tony out the door. “We’ll just be a moment.” 

“Is something wrong?” Ezra asked, as soon as the two of them were outside. He was struggling to pull on his coat as he followed Tony down the steps. Rolling his eyes, Tony went to help him with it.

“No, angel, everything’s fine. This is the sort of night I’ve always dreamed of. Watching your dad try to set you up with your high school crush is my favorite.”

“He wasn’t—Oh, it doesn’t matter. You’re right! I’ve gone and made quite a mess.” Ezra lay his forehead on Tony’s shoulder in defeat. “Sir Walter Scott had it right, didn’t he? ‘What a tangled web we weave’ indeed.”

“It’s not your fault. If it had been up to you, they just wouldn’t know yet. I was the one who told you to mess with them. I mean, you added in the bit about the guy being a mafioso, but point is we got ourselves in this mess together and, angel, I think it’s time we got ourselves out of it.”

With a sniff, Ezra raised his head to look at Tony. “Now?”

“Yeah, now. Look, I get you’ve been frustrated with your parents. Trust me, I get it. Punishing them for being cruel to you was one of my favorite past times in high school. But, your dad is… trying, I guess, and your mom is on your side totally.”

“Except she hasn’t been, has she? Even tonight she’s been cold to Martin all evening. She’s that bothered by the sight of me with another man!”

“That’s not it, angel.” Tony offered a weak smile. “She’s been upset that you’re dating because she thinks you’re breaking my heart.”

A few years down the road, the memory of Ezra’s face in this moment would be hilarious. Just now, living it, Tony only felt bad for him. His frown faded completely as his face went slack. His eyes bugged out behind his glasses and all the color faded from his cheeks. All he said was, “What?”

“I should’ve thought of it before. She guessed once, in high school, that I already had a crush on you. I denied it because I didn’t want her to think I was pathetically pining after you, but she guessed it. And just now, she pulled me into the kitchen to comfort me because she thinks this whole visit I’ve been watching you go on dates and been like crying alone in my mother’s basement or something.”

Ezra breathed deeply, reaching back to support himself with the rail. “So… when she told me… when she told me she’d developed other dreams for me, she only meant she hoped the two of us would… Oh, I have fucked up, haven’t I?”

The front door opened, and Tony froze in the middle of reaching out to offer comfort. He thought they should tell the Clarks now, but he wanted to tell them, not have them find out on their own. Luckily, it was Martin who stepped outside, and he did not look surprised to see them, still standing there on the stoop.

He chuckled, a little uncomfortable. “Reverend Clark suggested I go help you with the lights.”

“Oh,” said Ezra. “Uh, we were just—”

“You don’t need to explain anything,” Martin said, “But, if you don’t mind me asking, why don’t your parents know you’re dating?” 

“How did you know?” squawked Tony.

“I mean, it’s kind of obvious. Just the way you two look at each other is tip off enough. That and all the weird sneaking around. Plus, I could barely keep Ezra’s attention back in high school when all he wanted to do was hang out with you. Seeing you walk in all grown up and looking like,” he gestured at all of Tony, “this, I just kind of assumed. I’m surprised none of them have figured it out.”

“My mom already knows. It’s just the Clarks being dense. They’re…” Tony glanced at Ezra, “all three of them are pretty good at missing obvious signs right in front of their eyes.”

Ezra frowned, but Martin laughed. “Yeah, I remember that about Ezra too.”

Tony wanted very much to hate Martin, but was finding that difficult. He was being very reasonable about everything. 

“Jabs at me aside, I am terribly sorry if you came tonight expecting anything else, but I am already taken.” Ezra reached out for Tony’s hand, to clarify.

“I really wasn’t expecting anything. I’m not ready to date right now, I only just broke up, and it was only because of a move. I—I’m not over him. I don’t want anyone else right now.”

Now that Martin was no sort of a threat, Tony couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. He’d made a mess of things meddling with Ezra, but perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to meddle a little with Martin. “Look, maybe it’s not my place but, if you’re still hung up on the guy, is there any reason you can’t try the long distance thing? I mean, we’re doing it.”

“I don’t know… I wouldn’t want to drag things out if it’s just going to end…”

“Oh, Martin.” Ezra put a hand on his shoulder. “You know, you and I are a bit too much alike, I think. I have the same tendency to give up on things without trying because I’ve already convinced myself I know the outcome. It’s worth a shot, dear. And I’d like to see you leave here happy.”

Martin’s smile was thin and self-deprecating but there. “I’d like the same for you. I’d like to know things get better with your dad. I’ve heard him talk at meetings before about how things went when you came out, and I can’t imagine it’s easy to forgive him. But, I can tell you, I’ve seen a man who really wants to change and he wants to change because of you and your mother. I don’t think you’ll regret giving him the chance to do better. Just be honest with him. Give him that chance.”

Tony, put himself in the middle of things. “Sounds like a deal to me. We’ll go talk to the old pastor and you go give your ex-boyfriend a call. Happy little risks all around.”

Martin held a hand out to Ezra, who shook it. “It’s a deal then.”

Tony, who was twenty years old and very mature, was not bothered when this hand shake turned into a hug. As they embraced, Martin said, “It was great to see you again, but I think I’m going to head out. I’ll let you deal with the rest of this mess on your own.”

“Fair enough. It was wonderful to see you too. Would you mind if I called occasionally?”

“Course not. Thank your parents for dinner tonight, and tell them I said goodbye.” Martin started to head off toward the parking lot, but he stopped and turned one last time. “And tell your father I’m really flattered that he thought I could compete with Tony!”

They stayed where they were, waving out in the cold, until Martin pulled away. Then, together, they walked back into the house. Elijah stood up when he saw them, “Was that Martin’s car?”

“Yes,” said Ezra. He swallowed heavily. “Would you sit back down, please? There’s something I need to come clean about.”

They were all staring at him. How often in his life had everyone been staring at him? So many times in heaven, giving reports, while everyone looked at him like he’d done something wrong. So many times growing up when they were worried about him in school or at that dinner not enough Decembers ago when he’d finally told them the truth.

But, no, this wasn’t like that. It was not like all those times in heaven, when he’d had no one on his side. It was not even like that horrible night in his life, where he’d had Anthony and Maddy but they’d both been caught off guard. Tonight, Maddy offered an encouraging smile of support and Anthony stood right by his side. 

There was only one thing, making tonight more difficult than all those times that had come before. This time, he’d actually done something wrong. 

With Anthony right beside him, Aziraphale went to stand before the fire, from where he could address the Clarks without forcing them to crane their necks. They were watching him, legitimately concerned, full of fear and confusion. They worried for him of course, but he thought they might be worried about themselves too, worried that this was another test that they might fail.

“So, there’s really no good way to begin this, except to say that I have not been fully honest with the two of you since I’ve returned.” He paused and swallowed heavily. Anthony was watching, ready to offer a hand, but Aziraphale did not reach out for it. Not yet. That would come in due time. “I had hoped that, upon my return, I would feel just fine with everything. That there would be no lingering resentment of any kind. I’m afraid that hasn’t proven true. Happy as I’ve been to see you both again, and as much as I’ve enjoyed a great deal of our time together, I’ve been rather on edge. I haven’t wanted to dwell on the past, too many apologies makes me feel like we’re never moving forward, like we’re frozen in that moment five years ago. I wanted some active proof of change, that we were beyond that, that you were both beyond that. And I found I kept viewing everything through that filter, of constantly wondering if every word either of you said proved you’d changed or that you hadn’t. All that, combined with the oddness of being the child in a relationship once more, I found myself frustrated. I wanted some semblance of power, something to make this all different than before. I’m afraid I found that power through dishonesty.” 

Anthony leaned in, “You might want to speed along to the point a little, before one of them passes out.”

The Clarks, nervous enough before he’d begun to speak, were now completely distraught. Aziraphale’s endless preamble had shamed them both, without providing any relief to the initial mystery. The secret he’d yet to tell was running wild in their imaginations. Anthony was right, he ought to speed along a bit.

“You see, I haven’t actually been going out to clubs or making regrettable decisions involving any criminal element.” Relief was greater than disappointment. Confused as they still clearly were, both Clarks visibly relaxed. 

Elijah raised an eyebrow. “Why would you make that up?”

“Because I, well, there wouldn’t be anything wrong with that if I was doing it. I wanted, well, I wanted to force you both to accept me doing something that wasn’t wrong but that I knew would, well, I knew it would make you uncomfortable and that you wouldn’t be able to say anything. And I was right, at first. Before I got carried away with the story.”

“Also,” said Anthony, clearing his throat, “It was kind of my idea.”

“That part doesn’t surprise me,” said Edith. “Although, I’m sorry you both still feel the need to test us. And I’m sorry if we keep coming up short.”

So many times, Aziraphale had been mistreated for doing things that were perfectly normal, perfectly acceptable. Now he’d gone and lied, for no real reason, and the Clarks were apologizing to him. 

“No. We were well past the point where I should have been testing. It was immature of me and not particularly helpful towards any of the ends I wanted. I… I was angry at you for wasting so much of our lives over something as ridiculous as my sexuality. And I dealt with it by wasting more of our time instead of being direct. I am sorry.”

Elijah frowned and shook his head. “Please don’t apologize. You’re right; it wasn’t the best way to handle it, but you have every reason to doubt me and I can’t be mad at you for feeling the way you do. But I guess, I’d rather have you tell me when I’m doing wrong, than be quietly mad about it. I’m trying to be better and it’s easier to do that dealing with truth. I mean, one of the things that I really had to relearn was that, you hadn’t changed just because I’d learned something you’d already known about yourself. To have you come home and go out clubbing and dating people who don’t treat you right, that didn’t seem like you. Not because it was wrong or right, although the second thing would have been concerning anyway, but because it wasn’t you. You don’t like big crowds and loud music, and you don’t put up with people treating you wrong. You didn’t put up with it from us, why would you put up with it from some loser?”

“Yes, I realized that tonight. I’d given the wrong information to work with and then got angry when things didn’t improve. That wasn’t fair, and it was causing problems for all of us. So, I… I’d like to give you the full story. If that’s alright.”

“Of course,” said Edith, “But what more is there?”

The apologizing should have been the most difficult but it was only now that Aziraphale found himself really struggling with words. Now that it was time for the good news, the part he was actually happy to share, he found himself rather bashful. He glanced sidelong at Anthony who simply raised his eyebrows and waited for Aziraphale to begin.

“There… there… there is more. Er, something I was hesitant to share at first, which sort of led to all the rest of it. You see this is all still quite new to me and I… I was afraid that you might not approve. Because, the truth of the matter is that I am in fact currently actually seeing someone.”

Edith went very still, her eyes flicking towards Anthony. He was still standing there, looking other than utterly wretched, but that was only enough to stop her from being disappointed. She remained frozen, waiting for confirmation of her hopes.

Elijah, completely unaware, just cocked his head to the side and said, “Oh, you have someone back in London? You should have told us.”

“No, er, not in London. I’m, well, we’re … That is…” and now he reached out for Anthony’s hand. “Anthony and I are dating.”

The tableau before him completely changed. Maddy relaxed, free of a secret they’d been forcing her to keep for months. Elijah’s eyes widened, his brows lowered, his entire brain came to a screeching halt. He had never even considered the possibility. Edith, however, leapt up from her seat. Gone were her worries about Aziraphale lying. Gone the worries of the way they had once treated him. Gone were any worries that she’d ever had at all in her entire life. 

She squealed and ran forward, getting one chubby arm around each of them, and pulling them in for a hug. “Oh! Oh, that’s wonderful! That’s the most—that’s the best—that’s wonderful!”

Edith released them, only so that they could each get an individual hug. Anthony got his first along with a “I’m so happy for you, Tony.” Aziraphale’s embrace was longer. “Honey, I couldn’t ask for anything better. Really, I couldn’t. You two are perfect! Oh, we need something to celebrate!”

She bustled away into the kitchen where they could hear her opening jars and drawers looking for whatever treat she could find on short notice. Aziraphale turned his attention back to Elijah, still sitting on the couch looking utterly flummoxed. 

Apparently Anthony was looking at him too. “You know I’m not five still, right?”

“No! No of course not. It’s just I—I didn’t think you—I didn’t think you saw each other… like that.” The hand Aziraphale was holding tensed. Relaxing only slightly when Elijah went on. “It’s good though! If you two are happy… it’s good.”

Elijah was uncomfortable. His smile was too tight, the light in his eyes a touch too manic. A familiar sensation of annoyance twinged within Aziraphale, but he threaded his fingers with Anthony’s and let it go. There was no point snapping at Elijah for his discomfort, not when he was clearly trying to overcome it. Instead, Aziraphale turned to look up at Anthony and said, “We are happy. Quite.”

Anthony, who’d been bristling, looked back at Aziraphale and softened. For a moment they forgot there was an audience. It was only Edith, rushing back in with a plate piled high with Christmas cookies and some cocoa for Anthony, that brought them back.

“Come sit down. Come sit down!” She urged. As soon as they were sitting, together, on the floor with their backs to the fire, Edith squealed again. “So, I want to know everything! How long has it been? When did this happen? How did it all go down? How long has Maddy known?” 

“How’d you know I already knew?” asked Maddy.

“Tony tells you everything,” said Edith as though it were obvious. 

“I do not!” 

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. “Oh, don’t act so tough, my dear.”

“I’m not acting tough. I don’t tell her everything.”

“I’m sure Mother just meant within reason.”

“Right! I just meant, you two have always had such a wonderful rapport. I think I told Ezra this, years ago, when I first apologized to him, but one of the things that made me rethink how Elijah and I acted, was Maddy saying that you always knew she supported you. She was right. She was really supportive and you’ve never felt the need to keep secrets like Ezra has. That’s a good thing. I’d love to get back there with Ezra. Or I guess, get there for the first time.”

Aziraphale bit into a cookie, feeling slightly guilty even though Edith had put all the onus on herself and Elijah. Now that he understood why she’d been acting so oddly on this trip, he felt bad for lumping her in with her husband.

“I’ve known they were dating since…” Maddy began, then she frowned. “Well, Tony tell the story first.”

Anthony looked toward Aziraphale to start, but he was still mid-cookie and could only shrug. With a roll of his eyes, Anthony began it himself. He started with last summer’s writer’s block and told, with growing theatricality, of his trip to England and his plan to woo Aziraphale.

Aziraphale had not known there had been a plan at all, and found himself sputtering and bickering as Anthony described himself tempting along a stubbornly oblivious Aziraphale. It was hard to argue though, as Anthony’s description was unfairly accurate.

When he reached the point in the story where Aziraphale broke up with him, Edith gasped. “Ezra, why?” 

“I panicked!” said Aziraphale. “He was—it was—I panicked! Clearly, I came around. I just, I had been rather blind-sided and it all moved so quickly and I needed some time to think. Besides, it got him writing again.”

“Blind-sided…” Edith looked at him. “You really didn’t realize he liked you at all?”

“No. I didn’t even suspect. I suppose I can’t exactly blame Father for being so dumbfounded now. I was rather in the same boat. When did you know? That Anthony fancied me, I mean?”

“Well, I sort of guessed about as soon as I knew both of you were gay. I think I would have assumed Tony had a crush on you when he was in elementary school, if I’d considered it a possibility.” She said this as though it were obvious. Maddy laughed, Aziraphale and Elijah both looked at Edith with shock, and Anthony flushed.

“I did not have a crush on him in elementary school!” 

“I know, I guess. But you did follow him around and gaze at him like he’d hung the moon and get upset whenever he wasn’t spending time with you. It was a little like a crush.”

Aziraphale looked at Anthony and narrowed his eyes. He knew, now, that Anthony’s infatuation had existed at least in his later years of high school. He’d never actually asked when it had started. Anthony was flustered now and was likely to balk at anything, so Aziraphale turned to Maddy, “When did you know? That he liked me, I mean.”

Maddy bit her lip as she thought back. “The summer right before you went off to college. Remember I took the two of you to Provincetown? You weren’t the only one I was trying to support.”

“So you’d guessed he was gay then, but that wasn’t when you realized he liked me. When was that?” Maddy just stared back meaningfully. Very slowly, Aziraphale turned to Anthony who was now beat red. “Was I your first crush?”

“Shut up!” said Anthony. 

“I was! Anthony, am I the only person you’ve ever had feelings for?”

“Shut up!” 

Aziraphale gawked at him. This was beyond what he’d ever imagined. If he’d learned this this past summer, he would have panicked all the harder. As it was, he now accepted that Anthony was part Crowley and if, perhaps, that influenced an overly sticky infatuation, that was simply how things were. 

“Well, don’t let anyone catch me calling you impatient. Come here, darling, don’t be embarrassed. It’s sweet.” 

“Only if you finish the story,” Anthony said.

Aziraphale agreed and with one arm around Anthony’s waist, he explained the rest of it, the overthinking and the ticket to New York and their reunion. He left out the bit about speaking with the demonic soul at Anthony’s core, of course. That wasn’t allowed. 

By the time it was all said, it was well past time the evening should have ended. Both women had work in the morning and ought to have been in bed. Despite this, Edith gave quite a few more hugs before heading upstairs, leaving the dishes to her boys.

Aziraphale gave Anthony a quick hug goodbye, then turned to help gather mugs and plates. Even the dining room still needed cleaning. Elijah stopped him. “I’ll take care of it. You walk them out to the car.”

Aziraphale raised a brow. “Are you certain?”

“Of course. You’ve got to say goodnight properly, don’t you?” He was uncomfortable, clearly uncomfortable, but still doing the right thing. 

Aziraphale smiled, “Thank you.”

Elijah simply nodded and went back to picking up plates. Aziraphale followed the Jays out the door.

“Soooo,” said Maddy as they walked out into the cold, “I’m not going to make you say it, but I think we can all agree that being honest was better, I was definitely right and it’s always a good idea to listen to me.”

 She turned and gave them a cheeky wink.

“I’m not afraid to admit it,” said Aziraphale with a laugh.

Anthony sped up to put an arm around her shoulder. “You were right, dearest Mother, and I’m sure that’s why, the next time all of us get together, you’re going to tell them all about how you’re dating my band mate. Because we need to be open about these things.”

“What?” Aziraphale asked in delight, “Maddy are you seeing someone?”

“It’s not official or anything. We just, we had a weekend. That’s it. So far. I don’t know.” She was red as her son had been earlier that evening. “I’ll tell when there’s something to tell!” 

Anthony snorted.

“Fine! I’ll talk to Edith, alright? Happy?” Anthony nodded. “And, because I’m an awesome mom, I will also warm up the car and give you two some privacy, because privacy is also important. Goodnight, Ezra.”

With the Clarks inside the house and Maddy in the Jays’ car, they were, finally somewhat alone. Alone enough, for Aziraphale to take Anthony’s hand, pull him close, and kiss him the way he ought to be kissed, without any worries that someone might catch them through the window.

Maddy was right. This was better.

Chapter Text

Tony’s advice had been terrible; he knew that now. It wasn’t the part about telling Ezra he should let himself be petty that had been wrong; he was completely willing to stand by that. No, what he’d misjudged was the best way to be petty. They had not needed to sneak around or keep secrets or make up elaborate stories. All they needed to do was be themselves together as unapologetically as possible.

Anyone who became uncomfortable sucked and would have to deal with it, and no one else would get caught in the crosshairs because no one else would be bothered. 

He learned this lesson on Monday afternoon when he pulled his rental car into the parking lot of Westwich Methodist, just as one of the church ladies was getting out of her car. He recognized her through a haze of memory. Mrs. Taylor, he was almost certain. She was in a book club with Mrs. Holmes, but he didn’t think they got along very well. Tony’s clearest recollection of the woman was her disapproving of Ezra’s high school course selections back in the day. She’d thought he should take woodshop.

Mrs. Taylor had paused to look back at the Mercedes. He couldn’t blame her for that; it was a beautiful car. He did, however, take advantage of her attention to spring lithely from the car and greet her with disarming friendliness. “Hey, Mrs. Taylor, right? What brings you to church on Monday afternoon?”

She was already off guard. They’d hardly spoken when he was a child, and hadn’t seen each other since the Jays had left the church following Ezra’s falling out with his parents. She blinked at him in shock before rallying her manners. “Oh! Tony! I’m simply here to drop off some old books for the charity drive. It’s a surprise to see you here. Are you here to speak with the reverend?”

“Nah. I came over to see Ezra.”

“That’s right. I’d heard he’s visiting. It’s easy to forget, since I haven’t see him around the church…” Her thin fingers tightened around the old cardboard box she carried and her lips pursed. It was very clear how she felt about his absenteeism. Mrs. Taylor thought Ezra needed Jesus. “If you’re still close, perhaps you can talk him into going.”

Tony sucked air in through his teeth. “Might be weird, coming from me, but I don’t know, maybe. We are definitely still close. Closer, even. About as close as we could be. We’re dating.”

The old woman’s eyes practically bulged out of her head, although the rest of her stayed utterly still. He smiled back at her, friendly-as-you-please until Mrs. Taylor hefted her box of old paper backs and said, “Well, I won’t keep you.”

Then she hurried off toward the front of the church, heels clicking furiously as she went. Tony laughed all the way to the Clarks’ front door. He let himself in, without knocking, like he had in the old days. He found Ezra inside sitting on the couch, his only company every cookbook his mother owned.

“What did I just walk in on?”

Ezra looked up, beaming at the sight of Tony. There was a clear impulse to stand, but it was thwarted by his laptop and the sea of paper all around him. Instead, he reached out and fluttered his hands for Tony to approach.

Tony did, leaning over the back of the sofa, so that Ezra could wrap his arms around Tony’s neck and pull him in for a kiss. It was an awkward angle, an awkward position, but they managed it and then went on to manage it for a minute more. 

“I’m sorry for the mess, darling. The armchair is free, if you’d like to join me.” It really was the only free space. Ezra had covered the entire couch, his lap, and the coffee table. Where there weren’t books there were printouts of other recipes or handmade checklists. Little pieces of paper were jammed here and there into books that were closed and a pen had taken up residence behind Ezra’s ear. Tony recognized a creative process when he saw one.

“Is this for your blog?”

Ezra shook his head. “I might try to make one dish that I can use for that, but this is just me planning out Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. Mother and I are going grocery shopping this evening, after dinner, and I need to get all of our plans in place. We’re doing the traditional French Toast for breakfast, of course, but I told her I’d think of the rest. It’s quite a logic puzzle, really. Not just what would taste good together, but what can be made when with limited oven space. I’ve nearly got everything chosen. I’ve been working on it all morning. There’s just Christmas Day dessert left, but there’s almost too much to choose from!”

Tony loved to see him like this, all alight with the joy of a project, happily lost amid his pages. In the past, Ezra had occasionally apologized for babbling like this, but Tony would never have wanted him to stop. Even when he teased Ezra for it, he didn’t really want it to end. Just now, he urged him onward.

“Have you narrowed it down at all?”

“A little. I’d like to try something complicated this year. I’ve got it down to a Baked Alaska, a toffee cheesecake, or this traditional croquembouche.” He turned his computer toward Tony, so that he could see the image on screen—a cone of pastry puffs piled high. “Do any of those sound good to you?”

“They all sound good,” said Tony. “But, Baked Alaska gets lit on fire, right? I vote for that one.”

Ezra rolled his eyes. “I should have known. You don’t care how it tastes as long as it’s flashy. How like you.”

Tony grinned, adjusting himself in the armchair so that one leg was slung over an arm and he could stretch out luxuriously. “Something can be flashy and still taste good. I mean, take me for example. Don’t you think I’d taste good?”

Ezra looked both absolutely scandalized and deeply intrigued. “Anthony!”

“I was just talking about kissing, angel.” Tony grinned wider. “What were you thinking about?”

“You know exactly how that sounded, you fiend.” Ezra turned back to his work, but kept talking. “Just because my father is over in the church office doesn’t mean he won’t come back at any moment. That and I promised to lend a hand with Christmas preparations if anything came up.”

Tony sat up properly now, eyes wide. “I’ll cop to knowing how that sounded, but I wasn’t actually expecting you to invite me upstairs. Are you telling me your dad being around is the only reason my pants are still on?”

“I never said any such thing!” And Ezra returned properly to his work, now very, very pink. 

If he could work, than Tony could too. He leaned forward, and grabbed one of the odd scraps of blank paper and a pen that had rolled off onto the floor. He’d promised Xave a new, more upbeat song, and now seemed like as good a time as any to get started.

They sat like that together, not talking but pleasantly aware of one another’s proximity. Ezra went from choosing recipes, to planning out a schedule of prepping, cooking and baking for the next week. Tony jotted down bits of lyrics and melody, and wished he had his guitar. He could hear it all in his head well enough, but he found himself more creative when he could fiddle around. 

He also wished that Ezra would make more dirty implications in his direction. Not because he’d been expecting anything to happen at a 3:00 on a Monday afternoon, but because he wanted the inspiration. Sitting comfortably together was not uninspiring, but he found himself gravitating toward something sweet, romantic, and not at all the wild excitement that he needed to counterbalance the rest of the album. Ezra furrowing his brow over recipe schedules was too soft for that.

A car door slammed shut outside, rousing Ezra from his work. He was in no hurry, but he did yawn, stretch, and rub his tired eyes. “That will probably be mother back home.”

Tony glanced out the window toward the parking lot. He did not see Edith. Instead, he saw a middle-aged man that he had not seen in years. “It’s the youth pastor. He still works here?”

Ezra, finally cleaning up his space, answered without paying much attention. “Yes. My parents are still friends of a sort with he and his wife.”

“Of a sort?”

“Occasional meals together, promises of ‘we should really do this more often’, no particularly deep conversation. That sort of friend.”

Tony laughed before becoming immediately distracted again. “Holy shit! Are those his kids?”

Following Pastor Harvey out of his car were a teenage girl and a boy about ten. Tony had not seen either of them since he and his mother had left the church, but prior to that he’d actually babysat them on occasion. In his mind, they were still seven and four.  

Having finally escaped his self-made prison of books, Ezra joined Tony by the armchair so he could better peer out the window. “My, they have gotten big. I suppose Hannah must be in the youth group now.”

“Oh, that’s probably why they’re here, huh? The youth group’s got to finish up the nativity play set.” Tony looked up, to discover Ezra leaning over him. He was beginning to wonder how best to get Ezra into his lap, when he saw a frown appear on his favorite face.

Another car had pulled up, followed shortly by two more. The youth group was arriving and just the sight of them made Ezra sigh heavily. “I promised Father that I’d go see if they needed any help putting up the set. I thought it would just be him and Pastor Harvey. I didn’t think any of the teenagers would bother coming.”

“Of course they did. You remember, there were always a handful of kids who were just super into it.”

“Hmm…” Ezra agreed darkly. “And I’m sure that segment of the youth group will be the most welcoming when I go over there too.”

Tony climbed out of his chair and offered Ezra a hand and a grin. “Don’t pout angel. I think we’re going to have some fun.”

“More plotting?”

“Better plotting.”

Tony laced his fingers through Ezra’s and led him to the door, releasing him only long enough so they could pull on their coat and jacket. Hand in hand, they made their way to the church, leaning into each other against the cold winter wind. At the door to the fellowship hall, Ezra began to pull away. Tony held him tightly, forcing Ezra to look at him. “What’s the matter, angel?”

“Well, I thought…” Ezra looked down at their hands, blinked thoughtfully, then looked back up at Tony, smiling. “I suppose there’s no reason to stop, is there?”

“That’s the plot. The plot is ‘don’t hide things’.”

“Truly nefarious,” said Ezra, and he opened the door.

The set pieces for that year’s nativity play had been left laying out to dry on the floor of the Fellowship Hall after church the previous day. They were still laying there now, ready to be moved and have their old stands reattached. They were the same old pieces of plywood that had been used for years, with an ever growing thickness of paint slapped over them. There was really no reason to freshen them up every year, but it let the Youth Group feel useful and Tony supposed that was something. 

Just now, the few fervent members of the youth group who’d bothered to show up on a school day, were piling their coats in the corner and rolling up their sleeves. Ready to set everything up. 

Pastor Harvey called out directives. “Make sure your coats don’t get mixed up with the donations. I don’t think your parents would appreciate it very much if I sent you home without them. Tommy, you can help too, by carrying the tool box, okay?”

His young son nodded, and scurried toward the door to grab a red box that had been left nearby. He skidded to a halt before he got there, staring at Tony and Ezra. He screwed up his face thoughtfully. “Do I know you?”

“Sure do, kiddo. Doesn’t mean you remember us though,” said Tony. His voice drew the attention of the rest of the room. Pastor Harvey did a literal double-take, something Tony had not often seen in real life. 

The teenagers mostly squinted at them, trying to figure them out, but Hannah stepped forward smiling. “Hey! It’s Tony. Tony, I got your album!”

He had not been certain she’d even remember him, but apparently he’d been at least partially on her mind—enough for her to develop some excellent taste in music. “No kidding! You serious?”

“Yeah. I downloaded it soon as I heard you’d wrote something. It’s really good!”

“Good as The Little Mermaid ?”

She rolled here eyes. “If Dad had his way that’s all I’d still be listening to.”

“Thank you, Hannah. I don’t think he needs the whole story,” her father said. Then he turned to Ezra and Tony. “Hey, you two. It’s been awhile. Ezra, are you looking for your dad?”

“Not particularly,” said Ezra. He spoke slowly, although Pastor Harvey seemed rushed. Perhaps he was enjoying the uncomfortable way the pastor kept glancing down at their linked hands and then back toward the gathered teens. His own children seemed nonplussed, but a few of the others were now giving a bit of the stink eye. The oldest among them watched Tony nervously. “Actually, my father had asked if I could help out, if you needed.”

“I think we’ll be fine!” said the youth pastor. 

“Really, it’s no trouble at all!” Ezra insisted. “I’m sure a couple extra sets of hands will do you good.”

“No, you don’t waste your time. We—”

It was at this point that Elijah walked into the room and surveyed the entire scene. Ezra waved at him. “Well, here he is now. Hello, Father. We have come to assist.”

“Sounds good,” said Elijah. “Kids, why don’t you start bringing everything into the sanctuary and we’ll all be there in a minute.”

The high schoolers picked up the first flat, carrying it as well as they could while still trying to watch what they hoped would unfold into drama. Tommy attended to his chore as well, hefting up the toolbox. Tony held a hand out as he passed and received a high five. Tommy had not recognized him, but apparently he still remembered.

When the under twenty set was completely gone, Elijah spoke again. “I didn’t know you’d come over, Tony. Are you fine helping out?”

“Sure. Nowhere else I’d rather be.” Tony swung the hand that was joined with Ezra’s as he spoke.

The eyes of both pastors darted downward. Pastor Harvey looked nervously between them and Elijah, apparently waiting for Elijah to speak. When he didn’t, Harvey spoke instead. “Look, it’s great to have you help out, but not all of the kids have parents who…”

He trailed off. It was obvious what he was going to stay. Ezra looked at him politely and asked, “Yes? Who what?”

Tony loved him when he got like this.

“Who… well… I don’t mind that… I…” He turned to Elijah. “You know there are some members of our church who aren’t exactly comfortable with… and it’s youth group so…”

Elijah swallowed heavily, but held up his chin and said in clearly practiced words. “The Methodist church affirms that all people are of sacred worth and are equally valuable in the sight of God. We minister to all people. We do not reject or condemn lesbian and gay members.”

They were words he’d said before, words he’d looked up, studied, thought on. They were words that Tony actually believed he believed, although he did not believe them easily and they stopped short of a great deal that actually mattered.

Still, it was enough to get Pastor Harvey to nod, first at Elijah and then at Ezra and Tony. “We’re happy to have the help.”

“If anyone complains,” Elijah added, “Send them to me. I’m happy to speak with them.”

Pastor Harvey nodded once more, before disappearing into the hall on his way to the sanctuary. Elijah turned back to Ezra. “Everything alright?”

“Yes,” said Ezra and then more softly. “Thank you.”

Elijah smiled at him, took in a deep breath and asked, “Could you maybe tone down the handholding?”

“No,” said Ezra flatly. 

Yes, Tony had been very wrong indeed. The best form of petty revenge wasn’t to hide at all.

“It’s just, it’s always two steps forward one step back with him. Every time I think we’re getting somewhere, I’m disappointed again!” Aziraphale punctuated his words by angrily dropping a bag of flour into his shopping trolley. He hadn’t meant to go off. He hadn’t been planning to say much about the day at all. Edith had already heard the general strokes at dinner that evening. She’d gotten the polite version, the Elijah and Aziraphale were telling it together version. He could vent tomorrow to Anthony, or tonight since there was really no reason not to talk to him on the phone. 

But then, just as they’d finished picking out their produce, Edith had asked, “How were things with your father today?”

He’d started with “Fine.”

She’d told him, “You can be honest with me, Ez. We said we were going to be more honest.”

And that was it. With ever decreasing refinement, he’d reexplained the day to her until, around the time they’d entered the baking aisle he’d worked himself into a state. 

“There was a moment, an exceedingly brief moment, when I thought ‘here is a breakthrough’. He is actually standing up for me in public. Not just making statements to me, not just apologizing, but saying something publicly. It wasn’t perfect, by any means, still a little too close to ‘love the sinner, not the sin’, but it was something. And then he asks about the hands. Hands! God forbid we hold hands in public. Someone think of the children!” He paused, took a deep breath, and asked, “Do we have enough baking soda at home?”

“Couldn’t hurt to get another box,” said Edith. “And, I’m sorry that’s how the day went. I got the feeling I wasn’t hearing everything at dinner.”

“Well, he probably did think it was everything. I doubt he even realized he’d said something wrong. Sugar?”

“Definitely need some of that.” They squatted down together, consulting their shopping list for the right types and then picking out their favored brands. Aziraphale glanced at Edith out of the corner of his eye, she was keeping something to herself. Her words were coming slowly, her mind was elsewhere.

“Is something wrong?”

“Oh, no. I was just thinking, and I don’t mean to sound like I’m rushing to your father’s defense, but I do think he knew that he said something wrong.” 

“That sounds like rather the opposite of coming to his defense,” said Aziraphale, helping her to her feet.

“I guess. It’s just, he’s come a really long way from where he was, from where we were, from where he got to. There was a time when I was coming around and he just kept digging himself in deeper, it meant when he finally started to rethink things he had a longer distance to go. And, like I said, he’s come a long way, but I think he’s stuck a little.”

“Stuck how?”

“Like, he’s gotten to a point where, intellectually, I think he’s there. He understands why he’s been wrong. He understands what he should do, how he should act, even how he should feel, but he doesn’t feel it yet. His feelings, his first reactions, they’re still… they’re not there.” She smiled sadly at the supermarket tile as she pushed the trolley along. “He’s trying.” 

They were heading toward the dairy now, and Aziraphale watched her carefully. “What do mean by ‘not there’?”

She turned beat red and glanced around. It was Monday evening and the store was mostly empty, still she dropped her voice. “The way your father and I grew up, when we first learned about… about gay people existing at all, it was always discussed as a… sexual deviance thing. And I know, that that shouldn’t be a problem people can, can do what they like but… Well, that’s something I’m still working on. But, anyway, the idea that a homosexual relationship could be loving or romantic, like any other relationship, that wasn’t something that had ever occurred to me, and it wasn’t something that had ever occurred to your father. That’s something we both had to learn and now, I really don’t feel like I used to anymore.”

Aziraphale did not doubt her on this. Although, as she’d admitted, the idea of casual sex still made her squirm, she was all in on any type of romantic relationship. The fact that he was nearly certain she was already planning his and Anthony’s wedding was proof enough of that.

“Father still thinks all gay relationships are purely sexual though?”

She frowned as they stopped in the dairy section. “Not exactly. That’s what I meant before, he knows it’s not. In his head, he knows it’s not, but in his heart, I don’t think he feels that way. And because he knows better, I think he gets frustrated with himself. Although, I know that doesn’t make it any easier for you.”

“No, it really doesn’t.” Aziraphale stopped to study boxes of butter, his mind really on what he’d just heard. Thinking back over all his 6,000 years, he could remember times he’d desperately wanted his own emotions to cooperate with his mind only to find they wouldn’t. In his case, the emotions had usually been right and the thoughts wrong, the opposite of Elijah’s problem. Still, it allowed him to understand a little. Although, as Edith had said, it didn’t make it much easier. Elijah was a frustration. “I’m sorry I’ve ruined our outing. This should have been a delightful little trip and I’ve brought down the mood.”

Edith put her hand over his, just as he put the butter in the cart. He looked up and found her smiling at him. It was soft and yet weary, a smile she could not have worn ten years ago. “Please don’t apologize, honey. You know, I’m pretty sure this is the first time you’ve been this open with me. Ever. Not just since you came out, not just since you entered high school, ever. Even as a little kid you were always guarded. You were always saying what you wanted us to hear, until you got really upset. This is the first time you’ve just talked, at least to me. So please don’t apologize.”

He blinked down at her, trying his best to think of some time when he’d been so comfortable talking with her about the things that made him uncomfortable. He couldn’t think of anything, not that hadn’t been pried out of him by heavy questioning or strong emotions. He gave a small smile. “I suppose that’s true.”

“And, if you want to talk more, without me analyzing your dad, just ask. I’m happy just to listen. I’ve been working on that too.”

“I think I’m all complained out for the evening, but thank you. We can go back to talking Christmas cheer and delightful nonsense until we’re done shopping. Although, we’ve only got the dairy goods and,” he checked the list again and raised an eyebrow, “candy left? What are we buying candy for?”

“Oh that’s for…” Edith trailed off. “I actually do have one more thing to talk about, before we talk nonsense. Tomorrow is the last meeting of the Westwich GSA before Christmas break. I always bring them treats, and I promised extra candy and cookies tomorrow. There won’t be much real work happening. Even in a normal week it’s mostly just a safe place for them to talk with each other. But tomorrow, so close to break, they’re just going to want to goof around together and talk about their plans. Anyway, if you and Tony too, if he wants, if you wanted to come, the kids would be happy to have you. I’ve talked about you and they’re curious.”

Aziraphale thought of Keisha and the little ballerinas getting a chance to see someone like themselves. Perhaps he could do that too. Besides, while Elijah had limped along, Edith had worked hard to change. She had come so far and all for Aziraphale, the least he could do as an angel and as her son, was acknowledge that good work. 

“I’d be happy to go,” he told her. She smiled almost as widely as she had when she learned he was dating Anthony, although not quite.

It had not been long enough since Tony had last pulled into the parking lot of Westwich High. That wasn’t to say that he was miserable being back here. Not at all. Rough as the first half of high school had been, he'd ended on a high note. He’d absolutely owned senior year. 

No, the problem was that it literally had not been enough time since he’d last been here. When Ezra had texted him last night asking if he’d like to visit, Tony had happily agreed. It was only afterward that he’d stopped to consider the math. He’d only been out of school for two and a half years. The current crop of seniors had been at school with him. They’d overlapped. 

He didn’t like the reminder of his age. It wasn’t something he wanted Ezra thinking about.

But here they were just the same, the two of them climbing out of Tony’s expensive rental, in a half empty parking lot. The school day was over and enough time had passed for everyone in a hurry to clear out. Those left were there for clubs or practices or rehearsals, although, so close to break there wasn’t much going on.

Tony had learned to carry himself like a man on stage as a survival tactic back in his school days. He’d done it until it became second nature and the false confidence became mostly real. Being back here made him aware of it all again, how purposeful everything about himself had once been. He put on his sunglasses as they walked toward the building.

“How on earth are you not freezing?” asked Ezra. He had his own puffy coat both zipped and buttoned. He’d even pulled his scarf up to cover his perfect nose.

Tony, who was in fact freezing, had nothing on but his old leather jacket. He was fighting an urge to huddle against the wind, but that would have ruined his swagger. “It’s not far, angel.”

Ezra rolled his eyes, but didn’t say another word until they were safely in the building. Once they’d passed the threshold and stood in the entryway, close to the old auditorium, Ezra pulled down his scarf and said, “Oh, it is odd to be back.”

Tony nodded as he gawked behind his sunglasses. It was a bit like stepping into one of those find the difference games. So little had changed and yet there were little changes everywhere—different posters on the wall, a new color of paint on the door frame, different students passing by. He could only imagine that it was all even stranger for Ezra, who had not been inside the building since he’d graduated nearly eight years ago.

“I suppose we should go to the office first,” said Ezra.

Tony raised an eyebrow, “Why?”

“Because I think it’s frowned upon for strange adults to wander the halls of a school, even if it is our Alma Mater. I think we’re supposed to get nametags or something.” There was a moment of hesitation, as though he’d forgotten where the office actually was, before he began to walk in the right direction. Tony hadn’t forgotten at all, but that might have had less to do with the passage of time and more to do with him spending more time there than Ezra ever did.

“Do you think we’re going to have to wait for your mom? We’re fifteen minutes early.”

“I hope not, I thought we might have a bit of a look around and see if we could locate any of the old teachers.” Tony had been hoping that too, but Ezra had just pushed open the office door and now Tony was suitably distracted. The office had changed even less than the entry hall. The chairs in the waiting area, where he had once sat waiting for his mother after he’d punched a kid in the face, hadn’t even been moved.

The secretary at the desk looked at them over the rim of her glasses. “May I help you?”

“Yes, hello. My mother is Edith Clark who comes up from one of the elementary schools on Tuesdays to helm the GSA Club. She asked that we attend today. We’re both graduates of the school, you understand. I’m—”

“I remember you,” the woman said abruptly. She was speaking to Tony. “Always had the teachers talking, didn’t you?”

“I like to think I always had everyone talking,” said Tony.

She snorted and pushed a clipboard across the counter. “Just sign in here and don’t forget to sign out when you’re done. Oh, and put one of these on too.”

She pushed a sheet of stickers across to them, each emblazoned with VISITOR in bold red writing. As soon as they were both labeled, the secretary sent them off, with ten minutes left to wander as they pleased. 

“Where you want to go first?” asked Tony. 

“The only person I especially want to see is Mr. Velasquez, although I’m not entirely sure where he’ll be. They always seemed to be reassigning rooms. Also, I suppose it’s possible he’s headed home already.”

“We could go see Mrs. Ferguson. They never switched up the music rooms, so she’s got to be down at that end of the school, and she’ll know if he’s around.”

Ezra gave him a knowing little smile, “You know, you could just say that you’d like to see her, without coming up with a reason.”

Tony stuck out his tongue. Mrs. Ferguson had been his music teacher through nearly all of his formal schooling. He’d hated her at first, but they’d softened toward each other as the years passed, and had more than a mutual respect by the time he’d graduated. But he wasn’t going to admit it. 

Her classroom, like all the music, art and theater classrooms, was back behind the auditorium. Ezra, stage manager for every production in his time at the school, sighed with pleasant nostalgia. “So many lovely evenings and afternoons spent here. I don’t think I’ll ever forget it. Oh, they’ve changed out the vending machine!”

“Oh, yeah, that happened while I was here. I think the state passed a law or something. They took out all the good junk and replaced it with water bottles and baked chips and stuff. Sucked.”

“And by good junk you mean processed, carbonated, sugar drinks?”

“Because Mister I-Can’t-Choose-Between-Five-Desserts doesn’t eat sugar?”

“Ah, but you see that’s homemade dessert. That’s how you know it’s healthy!” Tony rolled his eyes and bumped Ezra with his hip. 

They were just turning the corner to the music hallway, when one of the doors opened and out stepped Mrs. Ferguson with her black work bag and her coat already on. Holiday concerts would be done for the season; there were no after school lessons this week.

She looked up and stopped when she saw them. She blinked and then smiled, a rare expression for her. That perfectly normal smile was as excited as she got. If Tony hadn’t known her, he would have thought by her voice that she was uninterested. “Tony Jay? What are you doing here?”

“Ezra and I came to visit the club his mom advises and thought we’d see if anyone was around. You remember Ezra, right?” 

“Of course.” She gave Ezra a nod. “I run into your mother occasionally when the music department for the district meets. She’s told me you’re doing quite well?”

“Yes, thank you,” Ezra said politely. It was no wonder he’d been the preferred elementary student between the two of them. “Although, I’m sure you’d much rather hear about Tony.”

Mrs. Ferguson turned back in Tony’s direction. “It’s not every day one of my students goes into music professionally. I’ve got to head home, but if you two would walk with me to the door, I would like to hear a little.”

Tony was happy to oblige. He spoke endlessly, tailoring his tale to his audience as they went. He spoke less of van tours and weird hotels and more of writing and arranging music. She listened, without much interruption, all the way back down the hall toward the main entrance of the school. It was at the door that she arched a brow and asked, “Have you kept up with your violin?”

“Uh,” said Tony. “Not exactly. You can only take so many instruments on the road.”

She tsked. “Pick it up again before you forget everything. You were quite talented at it; it would be a shame to see that lost.”

Tony decided to assume this meant she missed him. He smiled at her. “It was nice to see you too, Mrs. Ferguson.”

She smiled again and nodded.

“Er, before you leave, would you happen to know if Mr. Valesquez is around?” Ezra asked.

“If he is you’ll find him in room 124. That’s where his desk is. You might be in luck. I saw him with a stack of essays earlier today; he may have stayed behind to grade them.” With another nod she was gone.

“Room 124,” Ezra muttered. “That would be this way, correct?”

“Yeah,” said Tony. They walked along in silence for a moment, interrupted only by a group of giggling girls who passed by in the hallway. They looked so young. “Does it feel like forever since you were here?”

Ezra was slow to answer. “A little and then not at all. Down by the auditorium, that’s all carved into me now, I think. I can remember it more clearly than some places I’ve been in the past year. This part, I remember too, but it seems so distant. It won’t be long until it’s been ten years since I went here. Ten already. That shouldn’t be surprising, yet it is…”

Tony took Ezra’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “I know you. You’re working yourself into an existential crisis right now.”

“I was just wondering if perhaps I’ve wasted—”

“Hey,” said Tony, pulling them to a stop. “We’re here together, right?”

Ezra raised an eyebrow, “Yes…”

“Then nothing that got us here was wasted.” 

Ezra leaned in, “Much as you pretend it’s not true, you are a sap beneath it all, aren’t you?”

Before he could defend his honor, Tony found himself being kissed. It was a dirty trick. As soon as he’d pulled back, Ezra said, “Ah, Room 124! Here we are.”

He was knocking before Tony could even respond. From beyond the door came a tired voice, “Come in.”

Ezra opened the door slowly. At a teacher’s desk, clear across the room, Mr. V sat hunched, a red pen drumming against his temple. From the look of bewilderment he wore, Tony could only guess that whoever’s paper he was reading would not be getting the score they wanted. Ezra cleared his throat.

When Mr. V looked up, his face changed completely. He went from exhaustion to absolute joy. “Ezra! And Tony! What are you two doing here?”

“Visiting my mother’s club, but we wanted to stop in and see you first.”

“I’m so glad you did.” He was up from his chair now and striding across the floor. He stopped just before them, leaning back against a student desk to look at them properly. It felt like the right moment for a hug, but they’d been his students once and that just wasn’t how it worked. “You two look like you’re doing alright. It’s good to see.”

“Yes, much better than the last time I saw you,” said Ezra. “Exponentially so.”

Tony frowned, trying to remember when last Ezra and Mr. V met. For Tony, he’d last seen the teacher on his final day of school, when he’d said a nervous and excited goodbye, just days away from his flight out to California. 

“I’d guess, since Tony’s doing alright for himself now. You two always seemed happier when the other one was doing alright.” And then Tony remembered. It had been his Junior year of high school. He’d been outed, in front of everybody, he’d been frightened and hurt and angry and depressed, and Mr. V had come by to check in on him. Tony had hidden. Ezra had answered the door. 

“Oh, Tony’s doing more than alright, aren’t you, darling?” 

“Yeah, how’s things going for you, Mr. V? Family alright? Still directing?”

Mr. V lit up, telling them all about that autumn’s production of Arsenic and Old Lace and all about his son and his wife and the daughter they’d had two years ago. He asked after them too, curious about Tony’s time on tour, and absolutely fascinated by Ezra’s experience in the publishing industry. This led into the dangerous territory of Ezra and Mr. Velasquez talking about books. Left alone, Tony suspected they would have been at it for hours, until the sun had finished setting and the stars were all out. He let them go until 3:07, at which point he looked pointedly at the clock and coughed. 

“Ah! Sorry, you two. You had somewhere to be, didn’t you? I didn’t mean to keep you.”

“And we didn’t mean to keep you from your grading,” said Ezra apologetically.

Mr. V looked over his shoulder and waved a dismissive hand. “The kids don’t expect them back until after New Years. I was just trying to see if I could knock them all out before break. It’s not the end of the world. You two are going to the GSA meeting, right?”

They nodded. 

“I can show you where it is. Unsurprisingly, there’s a fair amount of membership overlap with the drama department, so I hear about it a lot.” He paused on his way out of the room and frowned at Tony, “It didn’t start when you were still here, right?”

“Nope, although I think I had something to do with it anyway.”

Mr. V laughed. “That’s fair. Although, I think we can say the same about Ezra here. Your mom really pushed to get it established. Nearly all the club advisors are high school teachers, maybe a few coaches up from the middle school. She’s the only elementary school teacher we’ve got, but the kids have really taken to her. It’s done a lot of good for them. There’s a good handful of kids who are out now, and a few more who are out to their friends and a few trusted teachers. I don’t think that would have been true without the club. I just wish it had been around for you guys.”

“Well, you know Ezra never loved a crowd and I hate to share the spotlight so…” Ezra swatted at Tony’s shoulder for being cheeky. Tony laughed. 

Mr. V paused in the middle of walking, looked at both of them, opened his mouth to ask something and then shut it and shook his head. Tony thought he could guess what their old teacher had been thinking and apparently, Ezra did too.

“Just in case you were wondering, we’re, er, well that is the two of us are, dating. Each other. To clarify. Just in case you were wondering.” Ezra frowned and began to prattle. “Does that seem strange? That must seem strange to you. Tony was so small the first time you met him. Have I made you uncomfortable? Oh no, I think I’ve made you uncomfortable.”

“Ez, it’s fine. Yeah, Tony was pretty tiny the first time I met him and you were a little freshman when I first met you. And yet, just like all the rest of them, both of you grew up. And you’re both happy, which is basically all I could ask for. Okay, I could ask for more but it would be for you to pursue the stuff I taught you, which you did because one of you performs and the other works with books, so I won, basically. I won teaching.” He smiled when Ezra chuckled. “Seriously though, I’m happy for both of you. The meeting is just in here, have fun and Merry Christmas.”

He turned and walked away, waving at them as they said their own goodbyes. Then there was nothing left to do but enter the next classroom. Tony pushed open the door and found himself greeted by the curious eyes of fifteen students. The range of ages illustrated Mr. V’s point; they did all grow up. There were freshman who were still clearly children and seniors who looked practically adult. They were perched all around the room, some on chairs and some on desks. The variety of hair colors and alternative fashions was much higher here than in the general population of the high school. Tony approved.

At the center of them all, however, was Edith, looking as much like a typical suburban mother as she ever had, right down to the plate of cookies she was setting out. One student, a particularly small girl with short blond hair, stood close by her, speaking in a whisper.

“Of course you can talk about that, Tori. I know we said there wouldn’t be an official agenda today, but I think talking about how to deal with family and the holidays makes perfect sense. That’s something a lot of you will be dealing with and—Oh, Ezra! You’re here!” 

“Yes,” said Ezra, his voice even softer than it usually was. Tony turned to look at him. He’d paused in the doorway, looking suddenly distant and shy. Tony reached out for his hand.

“We’re both here, Mrs. Clark. Should we introduce ourselves or—?”

“I’m not sure you need to. I’ve talked about you both often enough that I’m sure everyone can guess. But, yeah, let’s do introductions and then Tori here has a topic for us all to discuss and we can have cookies and punch and candy while we talk. Does that sound good to everyone?”

There were nods and calls of agreement from around the room.

Edith made her way over to them, and proudly put a hand on each of their shoulders. “Great, I’ll start then. Everyone, this is my son, Ezra and this is his new boyfriend, but longtime family friend, Tony. Do you have any questions for them?”

“Are you really the one who knocked a guy out on stage with a mic stand for outing you in public?” asked a blue haired kid who was perched on one of the desks.

“Well, I knocked his teeth out, but he remained conscious,” said Tony, trying not to look too proud of himself. 

“I loved you in Phantom!” A tall boy shouted from beside the cookie plate. When Tony thanked him he flushed. “I saw it freshman year. You were amazing.”

Tony had a vague recollection of a ninth grader shoving a rose into his hands on opening night. He wondered if it was the same kid. “Thanks again.”

Tori had the first question for Ezra. She began with “I wanted to know…” and then petered out and stared at the floor, plucking nervously at the hem of her oversized shirt.

“Don’t be nervous, dear,” said Ezra. There was a gentleness to his voice that seemed almost preternaturally calming.

His expression carried it too, and when the girl looked up at him the fear faded. “Well, Mrs. Clark told us about how she didn’t react well when you first came out to her and I wanted to know if it was really that bad? And if it was, how come you still like her?”

“Well, that is quite the question, isn’t it? Without knowing exactly how she described it, I’d guess it was about as bad as she said. It was one of the most difficult moments of my life.”

“One of? Not the worst?” The blue haired kid asked.

“As you said yourself, there was an evening where Anthony here was victimized publicly and then fled for fear of assault charges and none of us had any idea where he was, so that’s up there too. But, er, it did not go well. That much is true. As to why I’ve forgiven her, it’s just what felt right for me. I don’t expect it’s something that would be right in every circumstance. Lord knows Anthony took a good deal longer to forgive her for hurting me than I did. But, as I saw it, she reached out, apologized, and made it clear that she wanted to do better. It’s that last bit that matters most, I think. She was willing to change and she really has. I mean, look at all of you. Look at all of this…” What he’d begun in a calm voice broke now, interrupted by tears. 

“Oh, honey!” said Edith.

“No, they’re good tears now, I promise. I just, I’m realizing how much you’ve really changed and mostly out of love for me. It’s an amazing thing. I mean, ten years ago you wouldn’t let me read Interview With a Vampire because you were worried I’d be corrupted by the subtext and now you’ve got this flock of adolescents opening up to you. That’s quite a thing, isn’t it?”

“Seriously, Mrs. Clark, you wouldn’t let him read Interview?”

Edith laughed through her tears, “I’m sure he read it anyway.”

“Of course, I read it anyway,” said Ezra through his own laughing sobs. “And Anthony helped me smuggle in other books to hide under my bed!”

“Really?!” asked Edith, shocked. 

The students were now very much enjoying the show before them, and their heads all turned to Tony when he jumped in. “Can we not talk about that night? I still cringe internally when I remember that trip to the mall.”

“You shouldn’t feel bad about that, Tony. I completely understand that I pushed Ezra into keeping that secret.”

“No. That’s not it. I got jealous about something and kind of accidentally outed Ezra to my mom… I accused him of liking all the shirtless dudes on the book covers during dinner.”

“Dear, you were nine. I don’t think you fully understood what that meant at the time. And, by the way, I believe you were jealous because we’d run into Mr. Velasquez at the mall and I hadn’t paid you attention for almost a minute.”

“Oh God, I forgot I was a snot the first time I met him.” Tony was embarrassed by the memory, but he’d be lying if he’d said he wasn’t playing it up. He was enjoying the audience, chomping on their candy. He always loved an audience, especially one that might need to know that someday they might look back at their current sufferings and see it all in a different light.

“Was your mom cool about it?” asked one of the students, “When you accidentally outed Ezra, I mean?”

“She was cool about him,” said Tony. “Practically read me the riot act for trying to hurt his feelings and then had a long conversation with me about what being gay was and why it was important to be a good friend and everything. My mom’s always been cool about everything.”

“The more stories I hear, the more I realize that,” said Edith quietly. To the group she said, “I know there’s some of you who are here to be good friends more than anything else, and Tony’s mom is exactly that sort of person—the sort of ally I’m trying to learn how to be all the time. But I don’t think you should just be hearing about our guests. I know some of you have your own stories to share this week, so does anyone else want to talk?”

The next hour passed in laughter and tears, triumph and anxiety. The coming holidays were a thing of nerves or loneliness for many of them, and Tony realized that, for once, that wasn’t true for him. For the first time in years, there would be no secrets, no separations. He was glad these kids had a group he’d never had, but he wouldn’t have traded with them for the world. He’d gotten through so much to get where he was, but it was a good place to be. 

At four ‘o’ clock, the meeting broke up in a flurry of ‘Happy Holidays’ and ‘ Merry Christmases’. Tony and Ezra lingered behind to help Edith cleanup, but that didn’t take long. Soon the three of them were walking out of the building together. 

Edith paused before heading towards her car. “If you haven’t got any plans, Tony, we’d be happy to have you over for dinner. Oh! Unless the two of you were planning to go out together. That’d be fine too.” 

“Can’t tonight. I’m going out to meet some of my old friends. They’re all back from college.”

“In that case, Ezra, do you want to ride home with me?” Edith asked him.

“I suppose that would make more sense than forcing Anthony to go out of his way to play cabbie.” It was true, but Tony didn’t like it. He’d been looking forward to another ten minutes in the car together.

Edith must have seen his face fall. “You know, I actually need to pick something up for dinner tonight, now that I think about it. So it would be a big help if you could bring him home, Tony.”

“Will do,” Tony told her. Then, he took Ezra’s hand and made his way back to his beautiful rental. When they were inside and the doors were shut and the engine was starting to warm, he turned to Ezra. He was staring out the windshield pensively, eyes settled on nothing in particular. “That was a lot, huh?”

“Yes. A lot. But good, I think. Yes, good.” He fell into silence again and Tony waited. Something about the quiet felt like a pause more than an ending. “Mr. Velasquez was right. We all keep growing, don’t we?”

And Tony knew it wasn’t the children that Ezra was talking about.

Chapter Text

Visiting Westwich High had been like stepping back in time, only to find that nothing was quite as Tony had remembered it. This evening was very much the same, but a thousand times more so. 

Here he was, back in the basement of Mike Cappelletti, his closest high school friend, sitting in an old leather bean bag, eating take-out and drinking soda while everyone else drank beer. There was Mike, of course, big and blundering, more comfortable with himself than he’d once been and a better person for it. There was his older brother, Tyler, whom Tony had once considered a rock and roll God, but who’d recently begun a career in marketing. There was also Steve, who would be graduating that year with a degree in business but who was apparently considering becoming a baker.

“I’m telling you guys I know how to make bread now. My last girlfriend was vegan and I had to learn how to make all these weird breads for her and I liked it. Bread smells really good, being in a bakery all the time would be awesome.” Steve had been terminally high back in school, but Tony didn’t think he was now. He was just still Steve. 

“All I’m saying is, you shouldn’t turn down your dad’s offer to work in his office. It’s not glamorous or nothing but, it’s kind of nice having money. I’m not going to lie.” Tyler reached out and grabbed another egg roll. “I can afford an apartment and not eat like this seven days a week.”

“I still can’t believe you have a suit and tie job, man,” said Mike. “I a hundred percent thought you were going to be something edgy when we were growing up.”

“Oh yeah? What is it you want to do again? Sports medicine? Physical therapy? Real cool dude shit there. Super edgy,” Tyler said, then he sighed and glanced over at Tony, “Being a rock star as cool as it sounds?”

“Star seems like a bit of an exaggeration,” Tony told him. “One cover tour, a single album, and a small tour of our own isn’t star status. And, you’re right about it not being steady. It’s different hotels every night, or just sleeping in the van, and nothing but processed food. Still, I wouldn’t give it up for anything. Looking out on an audience and knowing that I’ve reached every one of them… It’s worth all the sleep deprivation and muscle aches from staying too long in a car. That and Xave thinks we might be able to swing a tour bus next time, so there’ll be actual beds and everything.”  

The other three stared at him, lost in their own dreams of a life on the road. They were all amateur musicians; they’d all thought about it at least once. 

“It’d be fun to do that for a little while, but I don’t think I could keep it up. I mean, my girlfriend would hate it, for one. I don’t know how anybody could keep up a relationship living like that,” Tyler said idly.

So much of Tony’s life had been spent trying to achieve a relationship with Ezra that it had not yet occurred to him to think about how to keep it. They’d done less than two months of the long distance thing, what if they couldn’t manage it long term? What if Ezra hated Tony being on the road? Would they argue about it? Would he keep it to himself? What country would they live in? How the hell was any of this going to work?

“Dude!” said Mike with sudden concern. “You alright? You looked fucking horrified all the sudden.”

“Uh, I just, I hadn’t really thought about it. Trying to make a relationship work, I mean.”

“I didn’t mean to freak you out,” Tyler told him. “Besides, I wouldn’t worry about it until you’ve got a relationship to make work.”

Tony’s concern must still have been obvious because Mike leaned forward with sudden urgency. “You didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend! When did that happen? What’s the guy like?”

Tony fiddled with the pull tab on his soda can, flicking it back and forth as the metal grew weak. “Hasn’t been going on very long. Just a couple of months. Dating Ezra.”

“Seriously? Good for you.” Mike leaned over and thumped Tony on the back. “I always thought you had a thing for him.”

“You did not!”

“Yeah, okay maybe not always, but like, it got pretty obvious. Plus, I know you and I listened to your album. You’re not exactly subtle.” Mike smirked at him, and Tony wished he had long hair still so he could toss it indifferently. He settled for flipping Mike off. He just laughed. “Seriously, dude, though, what are you worrying about? It’s not like you just met somebody and you’re not sure what it’s worth giving up to be together or if you’ll be able to talk everything out. The two of you will be fine, whatever happens. I don’t need to know any details to know that.”

“Mike, maybe you could be, like, a regular therapist instead of a physical one,” said Steve.

Mike just looked at him. “No.”

Tyler sat up, clearly puzzled. He was older than the rest of them; he and Tony had existed on the periphery of each other’s experience. He was trying to remember Ezra. “We’re talking about the older kid you hung around with, right? Nerdy guy, older than me, used to pick you up from our house when you’d come over to play with Mikey?”

“That’s him,” said Tony.

“So like, what is he now, 24-25?”

“25.”

Tyler looked at him. “Is it not, you know, weird between the two of you? I mean, I guess five years stops being that big a deal but like, I don’t know, seems like it could be weird.”

It was a fair question, but Tony still rolled his eyes. “I won’t lie, it did kind of wig him out at first but once he started accepting that I was an adult we got past it.”

Steve was not close enough to Tony to properly nudge him in the elbow, but this did not stop him. He leaned awkwardly over, nearly falling in an attempt to shove Tony’s shoulder. The whole time he waggled his eyebrows. “I bet I know how you got him to see you as an adult. In bed right, dude? Right?”

“Steve! You can’t ask him shit like that,” Mike said.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re not supposed to ask gay dudes who shows who what… and stuff… I think.” Mike petered out, righteous confidence fading quickly.

“I didn’t say that!” Steve seemed legitimately offended. “You can show someone you know what you’re doing in bed whether you’re on top or not. Right, Tony?”

“Uh, yeah,” said Tony, “Sure. I guess.”

“And Tony’s a fucking rock star, man.” Steve had now scootched close enough to put a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “They get laid constantly. Plus, dudes are horny all the time, so it’s probably easy for gay guys to hook up just whenever. Whatever he’s into, he’s gotta be a master at it.”

“Uh,” said Tony.

The Cappelletti brothers made eye contact. Mike gave Tony an awkward smile. “No shame, man. Steve’s just fantasizing. I’m sure it’s not as easy as he makes it sound, especially if you’re sharing space with three other people all the time.”

“It’s not that, and it’s not like I didn’t have plenty of opportunities. I had a lot of opportunities!” Tony sighed; there was no reason to be getting so defensive. He ran a hand through his hair. “It’s just… I’ve had a thing for Ezra forever and I never… I don’t know… I never really wanted anybody else.”

“That’s romantic as fuck,” said Steve. “That’s why this guy’s the artist. And, hey, I was just talking out my ass earlier. You guys have a real connection and everything, I’m sure he didn’t care that you were less experienced the first time you guys did it.”

Tony made a vague, noncommittal noise in the back of his throat.

“He waited too?” Mike said in shock. Then nodded his head as though he’d figured it out. “Oh, but his family is super religious. That makes sense.”

In order to avoid responding, Tony grabbed for another dumpling and shoved it into his mouth. Steve and Mike both seemed content with the version of events that they had concocted, but he could feel Tyler still watching him, still trying to figure him out.

“You guys haven’t fucked yet, have you?” he asked.

Mike blinked, looked at Tony, and must have decided that Tyler was right, because the next thing that he did was reach one long arm out and smack his brother. “The fuck, Tyler? Get off his case.”

“His case? What case? I’m not on his case! I just asked!” After this initial bout of defensiveness, Tyler glanced over at Tony who was currently wishing he could melt into the floor. He sighed, evidently regretting his decision. “Look, Tony, ignore the question if you want to, man, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. If you and your boyfriend want to wait until marriage or whatever, it’s none of my fucking business.”

And he was right, it wasn’t any of his fucking business, but at the same time there was no reason for Tony to be embarrassed either. His friendship with Mike and the others had never been like the one he had with Ezra. It wasn’t as close or as deep. It wasn’t even as strong as the bond he had with the rest of Prometheus. After living on the road together his band was practically a family. But some topics of conversation just fit best with a group of old high school buddies getting together and slipping back into the crass way they’d spoken as teenagers. 

“Can I be honest with you guys?”

“Course you can!” said Steve, raising his can of beer.

“Tyler’s right, I haven’t slept with Ezra yet, but it’s not some wait until marriage thing. It was a take-it-slow kind of thing, at first, but we’re past that now. We’re so past that. No. Now it’s just a there-is-no-fucking-privacy-anywhere-at-all thing. He wasn’t ready this past summer which, cool, fine, totally understood it. But now that he is ready, there’s no London apartments with chill roommates who know when to clear out. No, it’s Christmas with the parents time. It’s both of us back in our twin beds from high school time. It’s the one night you actually get a house empty, your elderly neighbor falls off a ladder and needs to go to the hospital time.”

“That one seemed weirdly specific,” said Steve. He did not break Tony’s rant.

“Then there’s the car. The really sexy car. But it’s too nice a car so you can’t be getting bodily fluids on the upholstery, because it’s an expensive as fuck rental and it’s got to go back. And you know, I could probably ask my mom to clear out of the house, but she’ll know, you know? And how are you supposed to get in the mood when your mom politely stepped out for the afternoon so you can try and seal the deal on the futon she bought you freshman year. Even if I could get over that, no way in hell Ezra does. He’d be thinking about it the whole time and he’d be worried about washing the sheets!” Tony buried his face in his hands. He’d been holding that one in for a while; it was a relief to get it out.

“Damn, you got the blue balls bad. Sorry, man,” said Tyler. He passed Tony a stick of skewered beef as though, somehow, this might help. Tony bit into it with a vengeance. “I remember that problem, back in high school, waiting for Mom and Dad to be out of the house and sneaking my girlfriend over. The sneaking around was kind of fun back then, like the fact that we could get in trouble added to everything. But, I wouldn’t feel that way now. It’d just feel immature.”

“How long is he staying? Like, is he disappearing right after Christmas or is he going to be around for a while?” Mike asked.

“He’ll be here until a week after New Year’s.” Tony snapped his left over skewer in half and dropped it onto his plate.

“That’s the time then! Right now it’s all family and chaos and stuff, but there’ll be more free time after. You got to take him out of town. Get him to a hotel room or something.”

“It’s not a bad idea,” Tony admitted. He’d thought about it before himself. “I just don’t want to put him on the spot and make it all inorganic. Like, here’s our one night, our only shot. Better get in the mood right now or no dice.” 

“Ooh!” Steve, overcome with his own brilliance smacked Tony on the shoulder. “Romantic weekend get away! Whole weekend, just the two of you, no rush, no pressure.”

Tony was just starting to consider this when Mike sat up abruptly and shouted, “Rent a house!”

“What?” asked Tony.

“Like a vacation rental house! There’s websites and shit. Last spring break me and a bunch of people from school rented one on the Jersey Shore. We went online and they had all these different options. You could choose number of rooms and location and amenities and stuff. We chose a big place and overstuffed it, only way we could afford it. You wouldn’t have to do that though. You could get a little cabin for two or something. You wouldn’t be all cramped up in a hotel room staring at each other the whole time, it’d feel more natural, but you’d still have privacy.”

“And you could wash your own sheets so your uptight British boyfriend doesn’t feel weird about other people seeing all the jizz!” added Steve. 

As though Steve hadn’t spoken, Tony asked, “You think anything would be available during the next two weeks?”

Mike deflated slightly. “That’s true. We had to book ours almost a year early… But that was for a beach house in the summer though. I don’t know how many people are renting in the middle of winter, especially if you chose something by the shore. Like, you got something on the coast, up near Old Saybrook or in Rhode Island, it’d probably be available and pretty cheap right now too.”

Tony could practically see it, a little beach side bungalow, the cold winter wind whipping across the surf as they watched it safely from inside. They’d be snuggled together, warm under blankets, as the sun set outside the window. They could relax, alone, and let everything develop normally. No rush, no pressure, no outside interreference.

“What’s the website?”

As soon as he asked, Mike was scrambling away to fetch his laptop from elsewhere in the house. He returned with it, already open, already on the right page. He settled it down on the basement’s old coffee table, gesturing for everyone else to join him on the couch. Tony got the seat beside him, while Tyler and Steve hung over the back to look.

“Alright,” said Mike, “What kind of place are you looking for?”

“Something small and cozy, I guess. His style more than mine. On the beach would be nice. Not too far away but, you know, far enough that renting a house there isn’t weird.” He watched as Mike began to input information then added in a strained voice, “And less than 500 bucks a night would be good.”

Moments later, they were clicking through pictures of houses and sunsets, looking at kitchens and bedrooms and odd little nooks. It was at this point that Tony’s phone rang and he had to climb over the coffee table to go get it from the pocket of the jacket he’d left lying on the floor. He’d assumed it would be Ezra, or less likely his mother, but he was wrong on both counts. It was Xave.

He had only one guess what the conversation might be about, and it made him want to put the phone away and never look at it again. Instead, he turned to his friends and said, “I got to take this.”

He received a few distracted nods, as they all continued rental home shopping, so he answered the phone as he hurried toward the steps. The Cappelletti parents were home and so the most privacy Tony could manage was to sit at the top of the basement stairs with the door closed. “Hey, Xave. What’s up?”

There was no response on the other end, not immediately. Finally, Xave said, “Hey kid, I just… I know I texted you but… I wanted to know if… Are we really still cool? You know, after I… What your mom and I—”

“We’re cool,” said Tony, speaking before Xave could flail awkwardly into too much detail. “As long as you don’t break her heart or anything. We’re still cool.”

Xave let out a long, relieved sigh. “That’s good. I figured I should check in again, after you’d had a couple days to think about it. So you’re really okay with it?”

“As long as she’s okay, with all this, it’s okay with me.” Then Tony frowned at his boots. “Although, could I ask, what exactly is this? I don’t want details but like, are you dating or just messing around?”

Xave laughed “Kid, are you asking me my intentions?”

“I don’t know,” said Tony, who wasn’t finding it very funny. “I guess?”

“Oh,” Xave said quietly, his tone becoming serious again. “Then, uh, dating I guess and just sort of seeing where that goes. I haven’t… I haven’t had a lot of serious long term relationships, not since before the first band, but… I don’t know. I really like spending time with Maddy and I’ve really enjoyed talking with her these past few months. So, I wouldn’t say there are any future plans but there aren’t not any future plans. It’s definitely not just messing around.”

“Cool.” Tony was very glad they were having this conversation on the phone instead of in person. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to say his next words in person. “Because, Mom hasn’t had a lot of luck. She never seems to find really good guys who deserve her, you know? And, well, I think you’re a really good guy, so… It’s weird but not bad, is what I’m saying.”

“Thanks, kid. It means a lot. Look, as long as we’re talking about it, she did ask if I’d maybe like to come by for Christmas. Not the whole day, I can’t do the whole day. I’ve got Mom and my siblings and all the nieces and nephews, but I was thinking of coming up that night, for dinner. My family is doing more of a lunch thing, so, uh, would you hate that? If I was around?”

“Nah, that’d be great. You could finally meet Ezra too.”

“Cool, so we’re cool?”

“We’re cool.”

“Cool,” said Xave. Then he rescued them both with a, “Bye,” and hung up.

Feeling like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, Tony retreated back downstairs. He paused a moment, at the bottom, looking at his old friends still bent over the computer. He’d hung out in this basement with them for years, or at least with Steve and especially with Mike. He’d heard them use gay as an insult, heard them loudly proclaim their own straightness whenever any discussion of homosexuality came up. 

And yet here they were now, finding Tony a romantic getaway for him and his boyfriend. 

“That’s the one!” Steve shouted suddenly.

“Why?” asked Tyler.

“You didn’t see it? Mike click back, to the living room area. Yeah, there, look. It’s got a piano!”

“Oh, Steve, you’re right, this one’s perfect.” Mike turned, craning his neck so he could see past the others and wave for Tony. “We’ve got it, man. Come here.”

Tony did as he was bid, and sat back down on the couch to let Mike explain everything. “It’s in Rhode Island, on the beach, like right on the water. It’s tiny, but not too tiny. Kitchen looks nice, fireplace right by these big old windows and, Steve pointed this out, there’s a piano over here! It’s romantic as fuck! It’s perfect!”

Tony looked at the images on the computer then back at the faces of his old friends, each anxiously waiting to see if they’d made him happy.

“Yeah,” said Tony, “It’s perfect.”

The Clarks’ old kitchen timer rang, announcing that Aziraphale’s second batch of puffs should now be nicely browned. He abandoned his current work of organizing ingredients for making the caramel and hurried over to the oven. A pair of leather wrapped legs blocked his path and he swatted them away with the kitchen towel that he had draped over his shoulder. 

Anthony smirked down at him. “You know there are nicer ways to ask someone to move.”

“Baking is a science, Anthony, I can’t lose a moment! Shoo. Please.”

The menace took his time strutting out of the way and there was a great deal of unnecessary hip movement involved. Aziraphale ignored him, instead opening up the oven door, pulling out two sheets of puff pastry, and placing them atop cooling racks on the counter. Anthony needed to be moved out of the way for that step, as well. Either he was doing it on purpose or he had an uncanny talent for putting himself exactly where he caused the most trouble.

Aziraphale had two more sheets, already prepared with parchment paper, and hurried over to those to pipe out more batter for the next batch. As he worked, he could feel Anthony’s eyes on him, apparently jealous that the pastry was getting more attention than he was. 

“You’re making more?”

“Of course, you need quite a few puffs to create a proper croquembouche. The recipe I’m using calls for at least 90, and that’s assuming nothing goes wrong. I really should have started this yesterday…” He sighed as he placed batch two in the oven. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to get it all together before we visit the Holmes’s this evening. I wanted to give it to them tonight. Oh well, I think the first batch should be cooled by now. Would you be a dear and fetch the pastry cream from the refrigerator?”

It seemed a good idea to give Anthony something to do, if only to keep him out of the way. Aziraphale immediately busied himself with the first batch of puffs, poking holes in the bottoms where the cream would go. When Anthony returned with the bowl, Aziraphale filled up a new piping bag and set to work. 

He’d hardly begun, when a pair of arms snaked around his waist and Anthony’s chin made an appearance on his shoulder. Aziraphale glanced at him, sidelong, and gave a low, warning, “Anthony.”

“I’m just watching,” he insisted. “You want me to stop?”

Aziraphale didn’t, not really. It was nice to have him there, pressed close and warm against Aziraphale’s back. “I suppose not. However, I’d be lying if I said I trusted you. I do have to finish this and I can’t be distracted.”

“I won’t distract you,” Anthony whispered, his breath tickling Aziraphale’s ear.

“No, see this is exactly what I mean. You are a distraction. If you can’t be good and simply observe, than you need to make yourself scarce.”

To this, Anthony said nothing, but he did grow quiet. It made Aziraphale feel bad for scolding him. “I do appreciate the company, dear. I saw you brought your guitar so I know you’ve got better things you could be doing. Watching me bake can’t possibly be interesting.”

“Oh, I don’t know, angel,” said Anthony, and his tone should have tipped Aziraphale off to the coming mischief. “I kind of like watching you squirt cream into holes.”

Aziraphale froze a moment, flushed to his ears, and then rounded on Anthony, who’d stopped holding him to double over in laughter. “Oh, you’re proud of yourself, aren’t you? You’ve been standing there this whole time waiting for the right moment to get that one in, haven’t you?”

“Get one in? Angel, that’s so dirty!”

“Crass! You are a crass and wicked thing and you’re proud of it too. Get out of the kitchen, you utter nuisance!” Aziraphale turned his back, stuck his nose in the air and went back to his work, trying not to think of Anthony’s description.  

“Angel, I’m sorry. I just, it was right there. I couldn’t help it!” Anthony’s arms were back around him and he nuzzled into Aziraphale’s neck. “You’re not really angry, are you?”

“Perhaps not angry—I do understand the allure of a good pun—but I have a lot to do and you are a terminal distraction.” As if to prove Aziraphale right, Anthony had gone from nuzzling Aziraphale’s neck to kissing it. Aziraphale’s eyes fluttered shut for just a moment, before they snapped open and he whirled on Anthony. “I need to work!”

He did not wait for Anthony to stop his wiles on his own. Instead, Aziraphale grabbed him by the waist, pulled him over to an empty space of counter and then lifted him bodily up so that he was sitting there beside the flour bag and cooling racks. “Stay there or leave the kitchen.”

Red faced and slightly stunned, Anthony nodded at him. Aziraphale had gotten back to work before he said, slowly, “You picked me up…”

“I hardly think lifting you a few inches counts.” He looked at Anthony and saw him staring numbly into the middle distance. Aziraphale’s heart clenched. Perhaps he’d been too rough? “Are you alright, dear? I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that would distress you.”

“No,” said Anthony quickly. “It was hot.”

“Oh…” There was none of the mischievous grinning and wicked laughter from Anthony’s earlier innuendo. This seemed quite earnest and that made Aziraphale’s mouth go dry. “Well, er, I suppose, in that case… well, I suppose I’ll just keep it in mind.”

For when, God only knew, but Aziraphale would certainly be thinking about it a great deal. In fact, he kept thinking about it now. As he began to work with the now-cooled second batch, he kept glancing over at Anthony still sitting on the counter, watching him. He did not look bored any longer; he looked absolutely entranced. He was watching Aziraphale as though wearing an old apron while covered in sugar and flour was the sexiest thing he could imagine. Just his expression sent a thrill up Aziraphale’s spine.

Batch three was still in the oven, when batch two was filled. The caramel could not be made until everything else was prepared. Aziraphale had a moment to breathe, but he did not want to spend it breathing. 

Instead, he returned to Anthony, putting a hand on either side of his waist and peering up at him. He was even taller, perched up there, than he normally was and he had to lean forward to meet Aziraphale’s lips. Then his hands were in Aziraphale’s hair and his legs were wrapped around Aziraphale’s waist. He pulled back just long enough to grin down and say, “Angel, you taste like sugar.”

“It’s important to try, ah!” Anthony had found his ear again. “It’s important for a baker to try things. Make sure they taste good.”

“Doesn’t seem fair. You’d have yelled at me if I’d tried to sneak a taste of something.”

“You’ve been trying to sneak a taste of something since you got here,” Aziraphale whispered back. 

Anthony stopped fully now, just to lean back and grin appreciatively down at Aziraphale. “Look who’s playing word games now!”

He looked oddly perfect there, perched on the counter, powdered sugar from Aziraphale’s hands on his waist. If only they hadn’t been human, Aziraphale could finish the baking with a snap off his fingers and carry Anthony upstairs to ravish him. But, they were human and things would burn if left to their own devices. That and Elijah was working over in the church and could return home any minute. It was the general reason why they hadn’t done anything yet although, just now, Aziraphale wasn’t certain he cared. 

He leaned up again, desperate to hold Anthony once more. Anthony was more than amenable to that. He made pleased little noises when Aziraphale’s hands found their way under his shirt. 

The puffs would be out of the oven in less than ten minutes. Then they’d need to cool before anything else could be done. That could be enough time to do… something. And, even if it wasn’t, Aziraphale could no longer see any reason why Anthony should be wearing a shirt. 

It was then, while Aziraphale was in the middle of kissing Anthony’s neck and pulling his shirt up to get better access to his chest, that the front door opened and shut. Aziraphale had only just barely got the shirt back down when Elijah walked into the kitchen.

“Oh,” he said. And then “Uh.” And finally, “Hmm.”

It was obvious what they’d been doing. Anthony’s arms were still around Aziraphale’s neck, Aziraphale’s hands were still on the hem of Anthony’s shirt. Their hair was mussed, their faces both flushed. Although, the red in Aziraphale’s cheeks now had more to do with embarrassment. He wanted to snap his fingers and miracle it all away. He had not been so uncomfortable since his disastrous first day of high school, which had ended with Elijah explaining sex to him. 

He did not want any sort of sequel to that interaction.

“I, uh, guess you two are busy…” said Elijah. He cringed the moment it was out of his mouth. “What I meant to say was, uh, when do you think you’ll be done? Baking! I mean, I was wondering when you’d be done baking.”

“Oh! Well, everything will be out of the oven soon enough.” Aziraphale turned to face Elijah, and found that Anthony’s arms stayed loosely draped around his shoulders. There was something defiant about it, as though Anthony were refusing to be embarrassed. Aziraphale let him stay, and spoke as though such public affection were perfectly normal, because why shouldn’t it be? “Then it has to cool a little before the next step. After that it’s time for the caramel and sticking it all together. Then it has too cool again. So, it will be awhile before it’s all done.” 

“Would you be able to step away from it while it’s cooling or do you need to keep an eye on everything? I’m just asking because the church has a table up outside the grocery store in downtown Westwich, to collect money for the Norford Food Bank. No one volunteered for the five to six wave, so I’m taking over. I just wanted to know if you two would be interested in joining me?” 

“The croquembouche should be sitting by then, so I could step away.” Aziraphale looked up at Anthony. “What do you say, darling? Would you like to go?”

Anthony shrugged. “If you do.”

“Great. I’m just going to head back to the church for now. Still working on that Christmas Sermon, so, uh, I’ll be back later. The two of you can… Get back to it.” With an uncomfortable nod, Elijah took his leave.

Neither Aziraphale nor Anthony moved until they heard the front door shut. Then Aziraphale buried his face against Anthony’s chest, “Oh, that was humiliating!”

Long fingers stroked through Aziraphale’s curls. “I mean, I’m not going to say that was comfortable, and I’m glad you got my shirt back on, but you don’t have to be embarrassed. Young couples are supposed to be insufferably handsy and it wasn’t like we were doing anything really bad. Yet.”

Aziraphale peered up through his lashes. “At this rate I’m not sure when we’re going to get to do anything ‘bad’, as you put it.”

As if to punctuate his point, the oven timer dinged. An apologetic look was enough to get Anthony to let Aziraphale go, and he hurried over to fetch the final batch. By the time they were all laid out on the cooling rack, Anthony had finally gotten down from his perch and was sitting out of the way at the kitchen table. One sharp knee was bobbing nervously up and down. Aziraphale pulled off his oven mitts and went to sit beside him.

“Is everything alright?” 

“Yeah, I just, I got to ask some things that I maybe should have asked before. Did you have any plans, like specific plans, for New Years? Like, any plans for that whole weekend?”

Why this should make him anxious, Aziraphale could only guess. “I’d assumed we would have a rather unexciting celebration with the parents, involving a lot of crisps and wearing silly hats in our pajamas before going to bed just shortly after midnight. I’m certainly not wed to the idea, however.”

Anthony chuckled, his nerves now mostly faded. “Good. I was thinking we could do something, just us. Just the two of us, alone somewhere.”

Ah, that was it then. Aziraphale fought the urge to drop his gaze demurely. “Might I ask about the something and the somewhere?”

“The somewhere will have to wait until Christmas,” Anthony told him. Then his grin widened. “The something I’ll leave up to your imagination.”

Antsy as he’d been sitting around watching Ezra make dough, Tony’s afternoon in the kitchen had turned out quite enjoyable. The fact that carrying around stacks of books and boxes of documents had made Ezra strong enough, under his softness, to lift Tony, even just a few inches, was something Tony would be introducing into his repertoire of fantasies. The making out that had followed had been a nice reminder that Ezra really did want him as much as Tony wanted Ezra. Even Elijah’s interruption had been unable to squash that. Better yet, Tony had gotten confirmation that all the money he’d spent last night had not been a waste. Ezra would be more than willing to go with him. However, had none of those wonderful things happened, the kitchen would still have been preferable to where he stood now. 

The kitchen, at least, was warm.

This could not be said for the sidewalk outside of the Stop and Shop. A chill wind was whipping across the parking lot, and Tony huddled against the wall hoping that the direction would change. Ezra and Elijah, with their gloves and scarves and puffy coats, seemed comfortable enough sitting at a fold out table in their little fold out chairs.  

Worst of all, Tony couldn’t complain because it was his own damned fault for choosing style over practicality once again.

“Excuse me, Ma’am! We’re from the Methodist Church and—” Elijah sighed as the woman he’d been calling to entered the store without so much as looking at him.

Ezra made the next attempt. “Good sir! Might you have a penny to spare for a local food bank?”

The power and authority of a British accent in the United States was enough to get the passing man to turn to them. It was not enough to get more than a wave and a “Sorry!”

They’d only gotten five dollars in the first fifteen minutes. Tony wanted to write everyone off as stingy, but he didn’t actually think that was it. It was just that hardly anyone carried cash anymore.

Ezra and Elijah both slumped at the table. They did not often look like father and son. There was little physical resemblance, Ezra was adopted after all, and they carried themselves differently and spoke differently and hardly had anything in common. Except, they both earnestly cared about helping others and right now, in their disappointment, they looked very much the same.

Tony did not like that expression, at least not on Ezra. “Maybe some of them will get cash at the register when they pay for their groceries. They might donate on the way out.”

“Good point, Tony!”

“I suppose, it could happen,” Ezra said, “But that will only work if they remember. Most people will go in to do their shopping and their heads will be so full of milk and loaves of bread they won’t be thinking of us by the end of the trip.”

Then something changed in Ezra’s pout. It didn’t go away, but it shifted. He was suddenly giving Tony a look, purposefully pathetic. He could not have been more obvious if he’d batted his eyelashes. Ezra was going to ask for something.

“You know, Anthony dear, you did bring your guitar along…”

“I’m pretty sure you put it in the car and said I might want it later.”

“Right, well, it might be nice to do a bit of caroling, don’t you think? It might be more memorable. It might mean people are still thinking of us when they get a chance to ask for paper money with their receipt. Everyone loves a little cheer at Christmastime.” Ezra turned his pout into a hopeful little smile. His intentions were now so clear that Elijah was glancing back and forth between them, waiting to see what was going to happen.

“Ugh! Fine, I’ll do it.” Tony rolled his eyes and stomped off into the parking lot to get his acoustic from the car. He’d only brought it to the Clarks’ house out of a vague sense that he should probably work on writing something while Ezra was baking. Only he’d found Ezra too fun to tease. Maybe this was the universe’s way of punishing him for being a pest, or maybe it was Ezra’s revenge. Either way, he returned to the donation table moments later with the guitar case in one cold hand. “You owe me.”

“Of course, darling,” said Ezra. Tony had been dating him for a couple months and he had already spoiled him.

With a huff, Tony leaned on the edge of the plastic table and took out the guitar. Cold as his fingers were, they felt right on the strings. He played nothing in particular for a moment, and then glanced over his shoulder to ask, “What should I play?”

“Anything Christmassy would be great, Tony. Thanks,” said Elijah.

With a shrug, Tony started in on some of the usual standards, plucking out O Holy Night, Joy to the World, and God Rest Ye Merry Gentleman. He’d always liked God Rest Ye Merry Gentleman as a kid. It was one of the few chances you got to sing ‘Satan’ in church and that had amused him. He wasn’t singing now though, he was simply playing, letting Ezra and Elijah make their pitches with him as nothing more than background music. 

When one man came out of the store, however, and walked past them without so much as glancing in their direction, Tony sarcastically sang the final verse of Good King Wenceslas at his retreating back. 

“Therefore, Christian men, be sure

Wealth or rank possessing 

Ye, who now will bless the poor

Shall yourselves find blessing”

He’d meant it as an insult, but when he stopped there was a woman standing by the table. “I never heard that verse.”

“They’re original to the song, madam,” said Ezra. “And they’re quite appropriate to our purpose here today. We understand that few people carry much by way of paper currency these days, however if you would be so kind as to remember us on your way out, it would go a long way to feeding those less fortunate this holiday season.”

She smiled. “I’ll see you on my way back out!”

When she had disappeared into the shop, Ezra beamed at Tony. “You are a marvel, dear. Do you think you could keep singing?”

Elijah, in a moment of deep understanding added, “You don’t have to sing any of the religious ones. Any Christmas song would be fine.”

“Ooh, do Christmas is Coming!”

It was a short song, so Tony did as he was asked. Then he raised an eyebrow at Ezra. “That’s another favor for me, angel. Don’t think I’m not keeping track.”

“I’m sure whatever favor you ask of me, I won’t mind terribly,” said Ezra.

Elijah cleared his throat. Tony wanted to be annoyed with him, but even he had to admit this might not be the best place for flirting. He turned his attention back to the guitar, noodling idly as he tried to think of what to play next. Of what Christmas song he would not mind playing in public. 

The Christmas songs he’d loved the most as a child had not been the ones from church, they had been the ones from movies. In particular, he’d had a special fondness for the Muppets, borne at least partially from an early childhood taking shelter in episodes of Sesame Street.

Tony began to play.

“It’s in the singing of the street corner choir

It’s going home and getting warm by the fire

It’s true where ever you find love it feels like Christmas.”

Neither Elijah nor Ezra seemed to recognize it. They watched him thoughtfully as he played, each trying to puzzle out if they’d heard this all somewhere before. Neither interrupted, however. It was a pleasant song and appropriate to the season. Elijah was probably just relieved Tony hadn’t gone completely rogue.

It was only when Tony finished that Ezra spoke. “Do I know that song?”

“You might. The church had the VHS tape but I think I watched it on my own, and then with my mom. I don’t think we watched it together.”

“We watched plenty of Christmas films together. Why wouldn’t we have watched that one?”

Tony snorted. “It’s from The Muppet Christmas Carol, and I learned really early on that you are completely insufferable when watching adaptations of anything you like. So if we watched it together it happened a grand total of once.”

“I’m not insufferable when watching book adaptations,” said Ezra quietly. His lips went very thin as he attempted to keep his words in, “Although I can’t imagine an adaptation starring a frog puppet as Scrooge would—”

“See! You’re doing it. You can’t help it. It’s a compulsion.”

Ezra pursed his lips, tried to hold himself back, and failed. “Well, fine, but the point stands.”

“Except it doesn’t. Because Kermit plays Bob Cratchit. Scrooge is played by esteemed British actor Michael Caine. And,” at this point Tony leaned in, “if you want to have this fight, I will have this fight. I will die on this hill.”

Elijah burst out laughing. They turned to him, united once more in staring at him in offense. Tony frowned, “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. It’s just… I guess some things don’t change, huh? It’s almost nice hearing you two bicker. Reminds me of the old days.”

“I suppose,” Ezra said primly. “Anthony’s never been able to accept when he’s wrong.”

He’d begun with utter seriousness, but ended with a mischievous glint in his eye and a wicked little smile. That expression did things for Tony and if he kept looking back he’d have them both on top of the fold out table before long. Instead, he stuck out his tongue and turned back to the guitar.

There were enough Muppet Christmas songs to carry them through the rest of their hour and by the time six ‘o’ clock rolled around they’d gathered a cozy little sum of donations. Music and guilt were a powerful force when combined. 

“When’s the next crew supposed to get here to relieve us?” asked Tony as he packed up his guitar.

“Any minute,” said Elijah. “Although, before we leave, we should grab something to eat. Maybe something from the already heated section.”

Ezra turned to him in surprise. “You don’t think mother’s made anything?”

“Oh, no. She’s actually over at Tony’s house for dinner. She and Maddy wanted to have a girls’ night. We’ve been left to fend for ourselves.”

Ezra scoffed. “I can do more than fend, but I suppose something ready made wouldn’t be so bad an idea. I’m a little done with the kitchen for the day. Still, why don’t you two stay out here and guard the money box and I’ll go grab us something.”

“I could go with—” Tony began. He was cut off by a raised eyebrow.

“I won’t be a moment, especially without distractions.” On some other day, Tony would have argued the point, but he’d made a nuisance of himself all morning. He had no leg to stand on.

So, he leaned against the table and tried to look like he was brooding instead of pouting until Ezra had disappeared into the store. Elijah cleared his throat uncomfortably.

“So, uh, Tony. We haven’t really talked, just the two of us, since I found out that the two of you were dating. I guess I should apologize for asking you to let Ezra spend more time with Martin?”

“We really don’t have to talk about this…”

“No. It’s great! You two are… good together. I’m sure you’ll be happy.” The words and the smile that accompanied them were forced.

Tony moved to take Ezra’s seat, leaning himself in it as lackadaisically as he could, and tilting his head toward Elijah. “Don’t hurt yourself straining too hard.”

Elijah’s face fell. “Do I sound that way?”

Tony just looked at him blankly until the point came through.

“I… I don’t mean to. You two… you seem happy together. That’s good.” He sounded like he was persuading himself, as much as he was trying to persuade Tony. 

An uncomfortable silence fell between them, one Tony was happy to leave in place until Ezra returned, but Elijah could not bear it. He took another stab at conversation. “I suppose all your anger at me all these years makes even more sense now. I—”

Tony practically growled in frustration. “You know how Ezra got annoyed when you kept rehashing everything over and over again like you’re on a one man apology tour? He was right. It’s annoying. I will talk about literally anything else.”

“That’s fair,” said Elijah, in a tone too close to an apology. Tony watched as he twiddled his thumbs awkwardly, looking remarkably Ezra-like in his discomfort. His eyes lit up when he thought of a topic Tony might accept. “You’re a writer! I’m having a bit of trouble coming up with the Christmas Sermon for this year. I’ve been staring at blank paper for days. Do you have any advice?”

Tony blinked at him. This actually was a much better conversation topic. Elijah had asked him a question about work, adult to adult. He wasn’t looking at Tony like a sad child he’d hurt or a hormonal teenager he didn’t understand. Tony sat up. “I mean, I was dealing with a lot earlier this year, actually. One of the reasons I went to London. Needed a change of pace.”

“I don’t think international flight is going to solve my problem in the next couple of days.”

“Well, honestly, it wasn’t the traveling that solved it, really. It was actually… I got kind of torn up when Ezra turned me down, you know, when he panicked. I’ve never written that much before. So, I guess, I don’t know how relevant this is to sermons, but really letting yourself feel and get in touch with your emotions helps. I was only really blocked when I had nothing going on but worrying about what I was going to write.”

“I think that’s got some relevance to sermons, maybe less than to writing songs but it still relates. Thank you. I’ll take that into account.” Another moment of awkward silence and then Elijah asked, “Are you still having an easy time writing now that things are going better?”

 “It’s definitely better than last spring. I’ve got ideas, I’m just having trouble matching the tone of the rest of the album.” Tony stopped, convinced that Elijah didn’t actually care. But Elijah was listening, intently, so he kept talking. “But I’ve been more worried about spending time with Ezra than anything else. I think after he goes back to London and I’ve got time, I’ll be able to pull out all my notes and really put my ideas together. I’d just… right now I’d rather be with him than be working.”

The conversation ended there, but for once it wasn’t due to arguing or awkward silence. It was simply that Ezra was back.

With dinner done, the three men piled into the Mercedes with a single mission between them: get the croquembouche to the Holmes’ without disaster. Elijah had found a cardboard box, wide enough to fit the base of the pastry structure and it sat now in Ezra’s lap as he rode in the passenger seat. Tony had never driven so carefully in his life. Any remotely fast turn resulted in Ezra shrieking at him to slow down, and Tony was now driving so far below the speed limit that he wasn’t sure they were still actually moving. From the back, Elijah added such unhelpful platitudes as “That’s good” and “We’ve got this”. Tony wasn’t entirely sure what he was even referring to. 

Despite the speed, they did, eventually arrive. On another day, Tony would have pulled up outside his own house and simply walked to the Holmes’. That would not do tonight; more steps meant more danger. Instead, he parked parallel to the Holmes’ door, then went around to help Ezra. The croquembouche was passed into Tony’s hands and he stood there with it, feeling like he was handling something precious, like a glass baby. It was a relief when Ezra was up on his own two feet and could take the burden back. Elijah and Tony escorted him up the walk, ready on either side to catch if anything went wrong.

Nothing did; they made it up the steps, and it was all worth it when Marjory answered the door.

She’d always been a fashionable woman, even if that fashion still belonged in the fifties. Her hair was always done, her makeup was always impeccable; that wasn’t true tonight. She looked tired, and that made her gratitude all the more powerful.

“Oh, Ezra, is that for us? That’s the sweetest thing. If you don’t mind a bit of a mess, you three can come in. I think a little after dinner coffee and some dessert would be wonderful. James, look what Ezra made for us!”

James Holmes was sitting on the couch, all set up with his foot up in its cast. The bruises he’d acquired the night of his fall had turned all manner of interesting colors and it made him look worse than the last time they’d seen him. But he smiled too when he saw them. “Dessert! Finally something different.”

“James,” said Mrs. Holmes. It was the same warning tone Ezra sometimes used with Tony.

“I’m not saying I’m not grateful. Half the church community has been by, dropping off dinners so that poor Marjory doesn’t have more on her plate while she’s tending to me. Thing is, it’s practically all lasagna. All of it. Nothing but lasagna and the occasional chicken casserole. We’re going to be eating lasagna until the end of days.” Then he gestured to the croquembouche, “But this? This isn’t going in the freezer. This is a thing of art and pastry and that’s how you make a man feel better about being laid up during the holidays.”

“I hoped it might provide a little cheer,” said Ezra. He was pink and pleased with himself.

“It’s almost too pretty to eat,” said Marjory, putting it down on the coffee table so that she could step back and admire it.

“Almost, but not actually,” said James. “Marjory’s right. It would go nicely with some coffee.”

“Ezra legally requires tea,” Tony told him. “I think there’s something about it in an Anglo-American treaty somewhere.”

Ezra swatted at Tony. “He’s being silly. A little coffee would be just fine, thank you.”

While Marjory hurried to the kitchen to put water on and locate mugs, James tried to play host without standing up. He had Tony sit beside him, and told Ezra and Elijah to pull up chairs. Once they were settled, James turned to Tony and raised both his eyebrows. “So. I’ve been hearing a lot since last time we talked and I’ve got to know, was it Ezra you were moping over back in high school?”

Tony flushed. He’d nearly forgotten that James had comforted him when he’d thrown a dramatic fit over Ezra dating, back when Tony was just seventeen. He nodded.

“I won’t say I didn’t think that might be it, because I did, but I was never sure. But either way, I’m glad you’ve finally won your man.” He gave a wink to Ezra.

Elijah watched the whole conversation with a puzzled curiosity, as though trying to figure out how James had become so comfortable with all this. There had been a time when James was no better than Elijah was now. He’d barely been able to look Ezra in the eye after he’d first come out, and here he was giving Tony a congratulatory noogie for having a boyfriend. 

“I’ve got to imagine you and the wife are thrilled about this, Reverend. Tony and Maddy are practically family already.”

Tony almost protested that they’d only been dating for a few months and it wasn’t as though they were married, but he caught Ezra’s eye and stayed quiet. Ezra was flushed with Tony’s same embarrassment, but he wore a shy smile too. There were worse things than old folks hinting at marriage.

“Yeah, it’s, uh, it seems almost obvious now. I’m surprised it never occurred to me before, apparently Edith and Maddy were both expecting it,” said Elijah.

“Well, I suppose it was hard to notice anything when you had your head buried in the sand,” James told him and Tony snorted. “But, you’re past that now, aren’t you? And it’s good to see too. Nice to have you knocking on the door with Tony and Ezra. And Ezra, I haven’t given you a proper congratulations of your own!”

“Oh, well, thank you,” said Ezra. He was accustomed to Marjory’s brand of overbearing, but not James’. 

“Now, come on the two of you, I want the whole story. How’d you finally get here?”

“No, no, no!” Marjory called from the other room. “Don’t you dare start without me. I’ll be in in a second and I don’t want to miss a thing!”

So they waited until she arrived with a tray of mugs and little plates for the puffs. Only then, when they were all settled, did they share the story. Once again, Elijah sat in uncomfortable silence. Once again, Ezra was berated for turning Tony down. Once again Ezra shouted that ‘he’d panicked’. 

It was not a bad way to spend an hour in the week before Christmas, and Tony was feeling quite cozy when all of it was over and they said their goodbyes. The last time they’d walked down this path, away from the Holmes’ house, they’d been leaving Marjory alone and James in the hospital. Now they were leaving them together with pastries and that felt far better.

“Do you two need me to drive you back?” Tony asked.

“We shouldn’t,” said Elijah. “Edith has her car over at your mother’s house. She’ll get us all home.”

Tony decided to leave the rental out front of the Holmes’; cold as it was, he’d take the brief walk to his own house. It just felt stupid starting the car up only to drive it a few yards. Besides, now that he looked, Edith’s car was parked in his usual spot. 

The lights were on in the windows of the Jays’ living room, adding to the glow of the Christmas décor. It was a welcoming way to come home. Tony pushed open the door and found his mother and Edith side by side on the couch sharing cookies and conversation. They both smiled and beckoned the men in when they saw them, so that they could get warm while Edith pulled on her coat and said goodbye.

“Did you two have a nice night?” Elijah asked them.

“Wonderful,” said Edith. “It’s been way too long since we had a night like this and it’s the first time in a while that Maddy and I have actually been able to talk about everything.”

Everything clearly meant Ezra and Tony, at least in part. Tony hadn’t given much thought to the fact that his and Ezra’s secret had become Maddy’s too. It was no wonder she’d been pushing them toward honesty; she’d wanted to be able to talk freely with her closest friend. 

And it was clear they had talked freely, because Edith squealed and added, “Maddy’s invited someone to Christmas.”

This was, of course, not a surprise to Tony, but Elijah and Ezra were suitably excited, and both wished Maddy their hearty congratulations. 

Then, once Edith was properly bundled, it was time for the families to part. Tony and Ezra had the longest goodbye of all, finally able to embrace and kiss without any reason to hide.

Chapter Text

“There, practically perfect!” Aziraphale stepped back, admiring the work he and Anthony had done in the Fellowship Hall. They’d spent all afternoon on it, stopping only when Edith had texted for them to come grab a bite of dinner. Now all of the donations for the charity drive were artfully and logically arranged. The Sunday School art on the walls was welcoming without being overwhelmingly cutesy. They’d even managed to put the mitten tree at the center of the room, without making it a hindrance to crowd flow. The room had never looked better. “If anyone has anything else to donate, at this point I hope they keep it to themselves.”

It was not the kindest thought to have or the nicest thing to say, but it made Anthony snort with laughter and that counted for a great deal.

“Thank you again, darling, for your help. I know that spending all your time helping me assist with church business is probably not what you’d imagined when I said I would visit.” He pulled Anthony in for a quick kiss and then a second, because he’d been so patient.

“It’s fine, angel. I mean, it’s not what I imagined. I imagined a lot. But, all I was really expecting was that I’d get to spend time with you and that’s exactly what I got, so it’s fine.”

“Still, I do feel like you’ve been trailing along after the things I decide to do these past few days. What would you like to do this evening, darling? Any chores you need company for? Anything I could help with?”

The edges of Anthony’s lip quirked up and Aziraphale knew immediately that he was going to take this as an excuse for innuendo. He rolled his eyes before Anthony even spoke, but he did not interrupt.

“Oh, I can think of some things you could help with,” Anthony said in a low voice.

“That wasn’t even clever, you just changed the intonation,” Aziraphale chided. He took Anthony’s hands in his, “You’ve got a song you need to work on? Haven’t you? Might I help with that?”

He was half expecting Anthony to spring on this opportunity too, to respond with a raised eyebrow and something along the lines of ‘I could use some inspiration’. Instead, Anthony sighed heavily and his shoulders fell. It was an expression Aziraphale remembered from childhood, when Anthony had been reminded that he really ought to be working on homework. It was an expression Crowley had worn when The Arrangement had left him with an uninteresting task.

“Yeah, I should probably work on something. Now that Xave’s coming on Christmas, I feel like I should have something to tell him, even if it’s nowhere near done.”

“So you haven’t any ideas at all?” Aziraphale asked.

Anthony shook his head, “It’s not that. It’s like I told you before, everything’s coming out small and soft. I need something big, bombastic, original. That’s what I’m stuck on.”

“You know, I hear a thing or two working at a literary agency. Priya had an author who was stuck in quite a rut, trying to get inspiration for the follow up to her debut. She told her that she ought to ‘refill her creative well’. Told her to watch movies and read other books and listen to music and simply take everything in until she got ideas again. Perhaps that’s all you need. To stop rushing and just absorb something fresh.”

Anthony grew quiet and suddenly Aziraphale was aware of all the sounds around them, of the wind whipping up the light snow outside, of the choir practicing in the sanctuary next door. Anthony, of course, heard the music first and he turned to it. For a man who liked to whine about all the Christmas songs on the radio, he grew oddly calm at the sound.

“I didn’t miss a lot about going to church here, but I’ve always kind of missed the choir. When Mom and I still lived in the apartment, I liked overhearing them on rehearsal nights. That’s not the kind of ambience you get anywhere else. You want to go listen? They won’t notice we’re there if we’re up in the balcony. Trust me.”

“Will that help you with your own music? The Westwich Church choir is hardly bombastic.”

Tony shrugged. “I don’t know. It can’t hurt. Besides, you’ve heard my shit, all the church stuff definitely leaked in there.”

That could hardly be denied and so, hand in hand, they headed for the stairs and made their way to the church balcony. The choir was far louder in the room itself, echoing off of surfaces designed with such acoustics in mind. It was a near thing to a private concert, if it weren’t for the occasional stopping and starting to get something right.

The Westwich Choir stuck to old standbys for the Christmas season, but Aziraphale saw nothing wrong with that. Other musicians would add something modern and more original, the children’s choir for example, or Anthony if Elijah had gotten him to agree. It was nice to have the choir as the core, singing the same old songs that so much of Christendom had sung for so long.

Aziraphale would have liked to sit close to the railing so that he could look down at the singers below, but they were less intrusive back by the wall. That and he soon found Anthony far more interesting to observe. He’d closed his eyes to listen and Aziraphale could only wonder what the music looked like in his mind. He was not at peace, because he was too active for that. He did not sit back and he did not stay still. The fingers on his knee twitched, playing along on an instrument that did not exist.

Anthony would not have appreciated having any of this pointed out to him, and not simply because of the demon at his core. He was not a religious person, in fact he was actively atheistic. Despite all that, the music spoke to him just the same, transcendent for reasons beyond the message.

Below them, ‘Away in a Manger’ ended and a new song began. He recognized ‘O Come All Ye Faithful’ from the opening piano, but was surprised to find himself listening to Latin. Apparently, full tradition was the choice this year. Just as surprising was Anthony suddenly opening his eyes halfway through the song and slapping at the pockets of his jacket until he located a notepad and pulled it out.

It was not a full music notebook, but this did not stop him. He began jotting things down with such fervor and such chaos that Aziraphale simply watched. He had seen Anthony work before but never had the privilege of witnessing him in a full fit of creativity. The scratching of the pen eventually petered out, ending far more slowly than it had begun. Anthony frowned at the pad once more and shoved it back into his pocket.

“You found some inspiration, I take?” Aziraphale whispered. He could hardly imagine what it was that had come to Anthony, but clearly something had.

“Yeah. Not a song yet, but I got a start. I don’t know. I like the idea of mixing the Latin, that old Catholic-style church singing, with something contrasting. Like, the weird mix I’d get when I’d have my old records going in my room, all sin and noise and rebellion and I’d step out in the hall and hear the choir worshipping. I could do something with that. I just don’t know what I’m going to do with it yet. I need a topic that fits that kind of contrast.”

Aziraphale looked at him, nibbling on the end of his pen and said with full honesty, “You are the most amazing creature I’ve ever met.”

“Shut up, angel,” said Anthony, and by that Aziraphale knew he was pleased with himself.

The pair stayed where they were until the choir rehearsal was over and everyone below had said their goodbyes and went home for late dinners or early bedtimes. It was only when the room below was silent that Anthony stood up with a languid stretch. Aziraphale followed, but not until he was done admiring the little patch of skin that appeared at Anthony’s waistline when he raised his arms like that.

Whatever Anthony was planning for New Years, Aziraphale was not going to let it pass without seeing the rest of that tattoo.

Together they went through the balcony door to the second floor hall filled with Sunday School classrooms, offices and the charity apartment. Aziraphale had expected silence there. The current resident was a quiet man and everyone else ought to have gone home by now. But Elijah was apparently still at work in his office, still accepting visitors in the evening hours.

A woman was speaking to him, in harsh tones, her voice echoing down empty corridors. Aziraphale knew that tone, a mix of hatred and rude customer. It was the tone of someone who would come into a bookshop just to complain about the filth on sale.

“Reverend, your personal business is one thing. Letting people attend services is one thing. It’s another thing entirely to have your son and that Drake boy acting as… as representatives of our community. They were practically running the charity intake all day. People are talking!”

In the shadows of the unlit hall, Anthony met Aziraphale’s eyes and silently mimicked the woman speaking. Had Aziraphale not been listening intently to hear how Elijah was going to respond, he might have laughed.

“Mrs. Jones, we’ve discussed this before. Yes, the United Methodist Church considers homosexuality incompatible with Christian teachings, I’m not arguing with you about that. That is the official position of the church. However, it also, officially, tells us that everyone is welcome to participate in the life of the church regardless of their sexual orientation. It specifically tells us not to reject or condemn church or family members because they’re gay. So, I am not telling my son, or anyone else that wants to be a part of the church community in any way, that they are not welcome. You may write to the Bishop if you’d like. I haven’t broken any rules.”

Aziraphale felt the pang of disappointment once more. Once again it was more than Elijah would have ever said before, and still so much less than Aziraphale wanted of him. And yet, Elijah’s final words were almost painfully familiar. How could he blame this man for walking the party line and finding the most careful way to say things, when Aziraphale himself had taken six millennia to break the habit?

The disappointment he felt was precisely how Crowley must have felt, time and time again, knowing Aziraphale cared and seeing him carefully refused to acknowledge it. Still, Aziraphale was disappointed.

In the darkness, Anthony squeezed his hand, then led him to the stairs and down to the first floor. It was the greatest form of love, that he’d taken Aziraphale out of the situation, rather than following what Aziraphale did not doubt was Anthony’s first impulse: to lie in wait outside the office so that he could make Mrs. Jones extraordinarily uncomfortable with his presence.

“You alright, angel?”

“Yes… No. I mean, yes, I’m not torn up or anything, but I… Reasonable or not, I keep hoping that he’ll be more like Mother. Yes, it took her some time, but she stuck her neck out and made her stance clear enough. She has all those children under her wing now and she stands up for them at Board of Education meetings and to other teachers and… It’s a sort of love for her to do that. I want that from him, that public, active defense. I want the acknowledgement that he cares about me without the foot note that he cares despite my sexuality. I understand that change takes time, the more so the older we get, but does it have to take so much of it? We only have so many years.”

Aziraphale found himself enveloped in a hug, wrapped in the comfort of Anthony’s arms. He leaned into it, closing his eyes as a kiss was pressed against his forehead. “Angel, could I ask… You’ve mentioned that before, the time thing. Is there a reason?”

The question ended with a touch of strained anxiety and Aziraphale could practically hear Anthony’s imagination running away with him. In half a sentence he’d probably already decided that Aziraphale was dying of something secret and terminal.

The truth was that, this past Autumn, Aziraphale had been informed that there was no guarantee that his angelic form would be returned at the end of his human life. This human life might be all he had left. He was learning to live with that fact, like all humans did, but it had changed the way he viewed things.

“Nothing to worry about, dearest. I’ve just been more aware of time passing lately.” It wasn’t hard to think of a human excuse for it, he’d noticed his flatmates doing the same thing. “Perhaps it’s what Leon calls a quarter-life crisis. I’ve reached the point where everything seems to speed up. Being home has only exacerbated that. I’ve seen how much has changed, while I was away. The places, the people, the world. Visiting school the other day, it brought back all sorts of memories of the place. My sophomore year, we did Our Town, do you remember coming to see it?”

“I was embarrassed because it made me cry even though I didn’t really get it.”

“In fairness, you were only ten. I’m not sure a child that young is developmentally suited for the themes of that play, regardless of how smart he may be. Even as an adult, even as a teenager, even if you lived for six-thousand-years, you can understand it all, but it’s hard to keep it with you. But I suppose that’s the point after all. Emily says it in the play, ‘Do human beings ever realize life while they live it… every, every minute?’. And we never do, not even all the saints and poets. We can’t. We get caught up in the petty things and our daily worries and we let the little moments pass us by. That's what I did with our silly little game. But I suppose, now, I’d like to try and hold onto more of them, to realize more of them, while I have the chance. And I just wish that I could hold onto the moments with my father, without feeling that they’re tinged by his own refusal to fully see me as I am.”

“Fuck, angel. That’s heavy,” said Anthony.

“I’m sorry for dropping that on you.”

“Nah, I asked and I’m glad you told me.” He was quiet for a moment, then went suddenly rigid. There was sound from within the stairwell, someone was coming down to the first floor. Anthony took Aziraphale by the hand and fled the scene, bringing them both into the sanctuary. “I don’t figure confronting Mrs. Jones a few nights before Christmas, without even an audience to make it worthwhile, is the kind of memory you want to preserve, huh?”

“I think the point is try and preserve all of them, even the sour ones but—”

“But we can make some nicer ones, can’t we?” Anthony suggested.

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. “Please don’t suggest that we snog in the sanctuary.”

“I wasn’t going to!” Anthony insisted. “I actually… Well, talking about not appreciating stuff while you have it and wishing you had, I haven’t gotten to play the church piano since you came out to your parents. I learned on that thing. I used to play it all the time. Thought you might like to hear something now. I don’t know. Just the two of us, alone in this big fancy room, a little music. That seems like something worth appreciating. I don’t know.”

Aziraphale smiled at him, the sweet thing. “Alright then, play something for me.”

He followed Anthony to the piano bench, settling down beside him to watch as Anthony slowly lifted the cover from the keys. He was reverent about it. For him, it was not the cross on the wall, the pews, or the pulpit that was holy—it was the instrument. When he started playing, it was no melody that Aziraphale recognized, he did not think it was one that existed. Anthony was simply playing what came to him.

In a hushed voice he said, “I can’t remember the last time I played a baby grand.”

“You play it wonderfully, dear.”

“Any requests, angel?”

“I’d love anything, but as long as you’re asking, play me something old and sweet.”

It took Anthony’s fingers a moment to settle down and choose a melody. Aziraphale recognized it immediately. It was a personal favorite of his, a song he’d told Anthony he’d loved when the boy was only six-years-old. But he’d remembered, all this time and he’d remembered.

Aziraphale began to hum and soon found himself singing along.

“What’s the use of worrying and feeling blue?

When days are long keep on smiling through.

Spread a little happiness ‘til dreams come true.”

He laughed when the song was over and leaned in to kiss Anthony on the cheek. “Thank you for that, darling.”

But Anthony was not done. He knew the sorts of songs that Aziraphale loved and he was ready with another. This time it was Anthony who sang, his eyes fixed on Aziraphale’s all the while.

“Someday when I’m awfully low

And the world is cold

I will feel a glow just thinking of you

And the way you look tonight.”

There was something magical about art, about food, books, and music. They held memories inside them. A single taste of something you’d eaten a dozen years ago could bring you back to that moment. A single note could remind you of days gone by. Aziraphale had long known this song. Up until now it had sounded like the thirties and the forties, like old movie stars and finding joy in hard times.

From this moment on, it would sound like empty sanctuaries and the man who loved him, and still a bit like joy amid the darkness.

“We don’t have to go in there. We could run away right now, angel. We could escape and spare ourselves the misery that waits beyond those walls.”

“Don’t kid. You might tempt me.”

Tony and Ezra sat together in the Mercedes, staring at Westwich Methodist. It was the 23^rd of December and tonight was the dress rehearsal for the Nativity Play. Inside there would be children, half-feral from Christmas candy and excitement. They would be finishing the first run-through any minute, ready to stop for dinner before giving it one more go. Dinner was the stack of cheese pizzas currently sitting in the backseat of the Mercedes along with four liters of coke.

“We should go in now, while they might still be working. They can’t mob us then,” said Ezra.

“I think we just have to accept that we will be mobbed and that this might be it for us. If you want, I can try to carry it all myself.”

“Come now, Anthony, don’t be a hero.” Ezra was starting to lose his straight face, but he hadn’t lost it yet. “If we’re going down. We’re going down together.”

Tony turned to him, pulling Ezra into a rough kiss over the stick shift. When he pulled back he stared dramatically into Ezra’s eyes. “Let’s do this.”

Now Ezra lost his façade and burst into giggles. It was enough for Tony, enough for him to face a few dozen grimy little monsters and a handful of possibly judgmental parent volunteers. He swung open the car door and took the pile of boxes, leaving the soda for Ezra. It only made sense, the soda was heavier and Ezra was stronger, but Tony was tall enough to hold pizza over the heads of children.

Usual church policy was to keep food out of the sanctuary, but tonight was an exception. It was a fool’s errand to try and corral the children all in one room, just to lead them to another. Besides, Tony and Ezra had worked hard setting up the Fellowship Hall, and he wasn’t about to let their greedy little hands mess everything up.

So, they entered the sanctuary through the main door of the church, opposite the pulpit. For a single moment, Tony got the full effect of the children’s tableau. They’d nearly finished the play. The wisemen had arrived, so had the shepherds and their sheep. A plastic Jesus lay in his manger and a choir of angels had arrived to sing his praises in shrill voices. They had nearly finished this praise when one of the kings dropped his gift for the savior to the ground and shouted at the top of his voice, “Pizza!”

Like a pack of wild beasts the children turned as one. For all of Tony’s earlier joking it would have been a lie to say he did not feel a twinge of actual fear now. They began to move, leaning forward to run or rising chaotically from their positions. A voice stopped them.

“What did I say?” It was loud, firm without actually shouting, and the children froze. Edith, the evening’s director, was frowning at them all from the piano.

Mary raised her hand and, without waiting to be called on, said, “That we’d eat when we finished?”

“Right, and we have one more song before we’re done, don’t we? I promise you’ll all get a chance to eat pizza, and we’ve got some candy canes for you too. But we have to get through ‘Hark the Herald Angels Sing’ first. Alright? So let’s start the song from the beginning one more time.”

When Tony and his mother had first come to the church, Edith had already been running the Nativity Play for years, but she hadn’t had nearly this sort of control then. She’d always had to rely heavily on the parent volunteers to actually get the children to do much of anything. That was before she’d become a music teacher however, and clearly years in the classroom had taught her a thing or two about crowd control.

While the herald angels sang, Elijah stood up from his seat in the front pew and came back to join Tony and Ezra. With him he brought two large plastic bags, from one he pulled paper plates, cups, and napkins. The other was filled with enough candy canes to keep the whole fleet of children up all night.

“I’d thank you for doing that, boys, but that used to be my job and I always kind of enjoyed the escape,” he whispered to them. “Best way to go about this is to pour the soda and plate the pizza before they get over here. That way we can hand everything out as quickly as possible.”

“I don’t think we’ll be able to get it all ready before they’re done with the song,” Ezra said, eyeing the singing children warily.

“Once they’re done singing all the moms will swoop in to make sure the angels take off the big white t-shirts before they get over here. We can’t have grease stained angels. That will stagger it all a little bit and buy us some time.”

Still, the men worked quick as they could. Ezra poured cup after cup of cola, lining them up along the back of one of the pews. Tony and Elijah formed a sort of assembly line, where Tony took out slices of pizza while Elijah held out plates. When the children were released, Elijah switched to passing things out to children, warning them to be careful. Perhaps it was the fear of Santa that did it, but only two slices fell onto the floor of the sanctuary and had to be hastily cleaned up before the tomato sauce set into the carpeting.

The Candy Canes were given out only when someone returned with a clean plate, and not long before the second run-through would begin. This was good. In Tony’s experience it was dangerous to leave a child too much time with candy canes. He’d always tried to suck them until they were pointy enough to be used as a shiv.

The whole meal hardly lasted fifteen minutes. It had taken longer to pick the food up. Then the children were taken in waves to the bathroom to wash their hands and, in the case of the angels, get their wings, halos and t-shirts back on.

Tony was barely able to grab a slice for himself before Edith begged him to act as accompanist. She needed to be able to watch it through from the audience, to make sure she wasn’t missing anything, and she said, ‘It would be a huge help’.

Ezra too was roped in, although he volunteered without being drafted. All it took was Edith telling him that two shepherds’ crooks, a crown, and the box of myrrh had been left backstage during the first run through and the old compulsion to stage manage seized him. Tony did not see him again until the entire play was over and the children were gone. It was then that Ezra came in and slumped down beside Tony in one of the pews.

“Lord, that was exhausting. How could something so simple be so exhausting?”

Tony laughed derisively, “It’s like not even 9 PM and I feel like it’s 3AM after a show and I’ve been sleeping in a van for two months. Edith, how do you do this every day?”

“Every day isn’t two nights before Christmas,” she said. She was slumped in a pew too, leaning against Elijah. She sighed, at once content and exhausted. “You know what I think of every year, when this rehearsal is over? I think of fifteen years ago. It was just this time. Everyone had gone home and the three of us were sitting here, tired as we could be. We didn’t order enough pizza that year, and we were all still hungry. Ezra went to see if there was anything in the church refrigerator. He found you and your mother instead. It’s funny to think we were just sitting here, and we had no idea all of our lives were about to change forever.”

“It was cold outside,” said Tony, who’d been five and exhausted and scared. “Then an angel gave me a coat.”

He looked down at Ezra and found his angel looking up at him. He looked very soft, but was still enough of a bastard to say, “I’d get you another coat if I thought you’d ever actually wear the thing instead of being too fashionable for your own good.”

Tony kissed his curls.

“I’m actually a bit hungry again this year,” said Edith. “Tony, why don’t you head back to the house with us and have a little to eat before you head home?”

“Sounds good,” said Tony, who was exhausted but not actually sleepy. He did not want to leave. He wanted to sit on the Clarks’ couch and be a lump with Ezra.

Elijah stood up abruptly. “You know I… I still haven’t quite finished that Christmas Sermon, so I’m actually going to head up to the office and see if I can finally get it done. You all go on without me.”

“Dude, you’ve got a day left, less than that considering all the stuff you have to do tomorrow. At this point just use something from a few years ago,” said Tony.

“No, I have the shape of it down, I’ve just… I just need to get all the words down now. I’ll have it by tomorrow. I think I finally know what I have to say.”

Ezra had put a fire on while Edith was putting together sandwiches, and Tony took this to mean he had no intention of going to bed anytime soon. This proved true. When the food was finished and Edith had said her goodnights, Ezra settled down on the couch and patted the cushion beside him.

They were too exhausted to do much of anything, but not much of anything was surprisingly pleasant. It was nice to sit, snuggled up together, with the television on, mocking the cliches of Christmas romance movies.

“There’s another poor girl stuck back in her home town. That does seem to keep happening. Something should be done about it.”

Tony laughed. “How much you want to bet that when she steps into the old Christmas ornament shop there’s a rude but attractive man who rolls his eyes at her big city dreams because she doesn’t remember the true meaning of the holiday?”

“I’m  not taking bets that I’m guaranteed to lose,” said Ezra. He was quiet a moment, as they watched the hunky ornament seller make his appearance. “My mother loves these movies. I didn’t really understand it at first, they seem so repetitive, but I think that might be the selling point. I suppose, when everything is changing, it’s comforting to know exactly what’s going to happen.”

“I guess I get that, still I’m glad she doesn’t watch them as much as Mrs. Holmes. It’d drive you up a wall.”

Ezra looked at Tony, bemused. “You are aware that we are currently voluntarily watching this film?”

“That’s different. We’re watching it ironically.” Tony turned so he could stretch out on the couch and lay his head against Ezra’s chest. “Besides, we’re this far in and I want to see Stephanie, or whatever, make up with the hunky childhood friend and save the town Christmas concert.”

“You know, I think this might be the exact one my mother was describing to me the other week. New England, decent chemistry with the actors, childhood friends… Oh. I’m an idiot.”

Tony snorted, and craned his neck back so that he was looking at Ezra upside down. He was staring blankly at the television, apparently stunned. Tony waved a hand in front of his face. “Why are you an idiot?”

“Well, I thought she was just sharing an enjoyable viewing experience but it was before we told her we were dating and… well, in retrospect I think she was trying to hint that we should be together.”

It was Tony’s turn to freeze. He stared at the ceiling, then sat up abruptly, turning to face Ezra in one clumsy movement. “Angel, are we just a gay Hallmark movie?”

“What?”

“Childhood friends. New England. You’ve got the big city publishing job cliché covered. I’ve got the traveling musician one. We literally just helped with a nativity play.” Tony had begun this thought as a joke. He wasn’t sure it still was one.

Ezra reached out and gently urged him to lie down again. “Don’t fret, dear. We can’t possibly be a Christmas movie. We were already together before the season began. Now, rest. You’re clearly tired.”

Tony did not argue. It was comfortable, curled up on the couch, with his head pillowed on Ezra’s chest. The fire crackled, the wind outside blew, and the television movie went quietly and inoffensively on to its inevitable conclusion. Tony, however, never got to see the town Christmas concert. He was asleep before Stephanie had even monologued about why she didn’t care much for the holidays anymore.

When Tony opened his eyes, the television was off and the fire had been reduced to glowing embers. Beneath his head, Ezra’s chest rose and fell with the regularity of sleep. He was still sitting up, head nestled against the back of the couch, a hand resting in Tony’s hair. He must have been stroking it when he’d fallen asleep.

The neon green numbers on the cable box told Tony it was 1:30 in the morning. He’d meant to leave hours ago and hoped that his mother wasn’t worried about where he was. She probably wasn’t. She knew he’d been with the Clarks all day. It was an almost comically safe place to be.

But then the foyer door knob clicked and Tony tensed. At once he realized he must have heard the front door open earlier; that must have been what had woken him up. Someone was breaking into the house. His first reaction was to lay as still as he could, hoping that he’d be overlooked. Then it occurred to him that Ezra’s head was clearly visible from the door, and he decided he should grab the poker from by the fire and knock it over the head of any intruder who might harm his angel.

Tony was, however, half asleep and he only got as far as sitting up before he was noticed.

“Tony! You’re still here?” It was only Elijah, a sheaf of papers in his hand, standing in the dim light of the room and speaking in a whisper.

Immediately, Tony began to take stock of the situation once again. Elijah, homophobe in recovery, had walked in on Tony curled up with Ezra on the couch. Genders aside, Elijah probably wouldn’t have been thrilled. He was too conservative for this kind of unmarried affection.

Carefully, so as not to wake the slumbering Ezra, Tony stood up and made his way to the door. “I should probably go. Get him a blanket, will you?”

“Anthony, wait,” said Elijah. “You can stay if you want. I mean, you’re staying over tomorrow night anyway.”

That was true, but he’d expected that Elijah would suggest Tony sleep down in the living room or something. “Yeah, but I don’t have any clothes or a tooth brush or anything. Besides, Mom might be worried about me.”

“I guess that’s true about the tooth brush, but your mom texted Edith and I an hour ago. Edith got up and saw your car was still in the parking lot. So don’t worry about that.” Elijah glanced over at Ezra, perhaps checking that he was still asleep. Then he said, “Before you go, would you mind talking with me, for like ten minutes. I want to run something by you.”

It was 1:30 in the morning. Tony could not imagine what Elijah needed to run by him at 1:30 in the morning. Maybe it was rules for sleeping over tomorrow, but Tony couldn’t see why that wouldn’t be able to wait. He very nearly turned Elijah down, but there was something in the way he kept glancing over at Ezra that piqued Tony’s interest. He nodded.

Elijah jerked his head toward the kitchen and led them both there. He did not turn the lights fully on, opting only for the row of inset lights below the cabinets. It was enough for them to see by, but not enough for a harsh glow to wake Ezra in the living room.

“I’d like it if you could read my sermon for me. I… I want to make sure it’s alright. That I’m saying the right thing, and that it’s something Ezra will approve of.”

“Why don’t you just ask him?”

“I’d like to surprise him, but only if I know it’s the kind of surprise he’ll be okay with. And, no one knows him as well as you do, Tony. If you like it, he’ll like it. Will you read it?” It was not often that Tony got to see Elijah so vulnerable. His face, which had seemed so lined and aged lately, now took on something of a scared child. Whatever he’d written, he was nearly afraid to share it. Tony did not like him. He had, until very recently, outright hated him. But Tony knew the feeling of putting your heart down onto a page and the terror of sharing it with others. He knew how much this meant.

“Give it here.”

Elijah did, with shaking hands. “Is the light good? Do you need more light?”

“Nah.”

“Oh right. Being twenty is practically a super power, isn’t it. No back aches, eyes that can see in the dimmest light, no exhaust—”

“Shhh,” said Tony and he began to read.

Like many ministers, priests, and pastors, Elijah’s sermons wove the personal with the universal, the new with the old. There’d always been bits of his own experiences or observations in them, stories to try and make his point more relatable to his audience. Yet, Tony did not think he’d ever heard Elijah share anything quite this personal. He wasn’t sure Elijah had ever shared anything this confessional in any context, outside of the couples therapy he’d attended years ago with Edith. Much to his own annoyance, Tony had teared up by the time he was finished. He did not have his sunglasses and so he was glad for the dim light.

He pretended to be reading a moment longer than he actually was, so that he could get himself under control. He handed the paper back to Elijah. “ s’good. Use it. Ezra will like it. He’ll really like it. You should use it.”

Elijah’s face softened with relief, but only for a moment. He was no longer worried about Tony’s reaction, but that allowed new anxieties to creep in. “I’m not sure how everyone will receive it, but I think it’s what I need to say.” He laughed, uncomfortable. “Might have to rework the whole service a little. Not sure it makes sense to go straight from this to passing the plate while the chorus sings.”

“I don’t know,” said Tony, “it depends on the song they’re singing.”

Then he frowned. Elijah had asked him only once if he’d like to be part of the service, but he’d dropped a few hints over the last couple days, perhaps still hoping that Tony might volunteer. That might have been what that last comment was, another hint. Only this time, Tony changed his answer.

“Hey, um, if you’re giving that sermon and you want something to go after it, I wouldn’t mind singing, afterward I mean. Help with the flow of things.”

“Really? Tony, that would be wonderful! I’ve been hope—”

Tony interrupted. “But, I’m choosing the song.”

“I assumed.”

“And I want you and Edith to join me. This is for the Christmas Day service, right? So we can find some time to practice tomorrow. It won’t be complicated.”

In the dim light, Elijah blinked at him. “I don’t think Edith would have a problem that and I’m… I’m willing. Although I’m not much of a singer. Can I ask why though?”

Tony was quiet a moment. In the stillness of the house, he could hear Ezra breathing in the other room. “If we’re going to put on this show for him and everyone else, then we’re going to put the show on right.”

Chapter Text

Aziraphale looked at himself in the mirror, dressed in his finest clothes. Tonight he would be attending his first service at Westwich Methodist in nearly six years. It would not do to look uncomfortable, or anything less than his best. He would not be made to feel like he did not belong. He was an angel, by all rights he belonged more than anybody. With stiff pride, he adjusted his bow tie and nodded to himself. He looked good.

After running his fingers, one last time through his hair, he headed downstairs.

The Jays had already arrived, in fact they’d arrived hours ago to help with the Charity Drive. It had been a good thing to see them there. As a boy, Anthony had always been willing to help set things up, but on the day of the drive he’d always insisted on whiling the hours away in the Clarks’ house far from the apartment and the church. He had not liked seeing people in the same position he’d once been in, coming to take whatever they needed. He’d outgrown that now, no longer uncomfortable or ashamed of where he’d come from. Anthony helped with a kindness Aziraphale had always known was in him.

Currently, Anthony was sitting on the couch with his mother, both of them already dressed up for the evenings’ service. They had taken turns changing in the downstairs bathroom after Aziraphale had balked at the idea of changing in the same space. Anthony had rolled his eyes until Aziraphale insisted that seeing each other changing would make the eventual nudity anticlimactic. Anthony’s showman sensibilities had not allowed him to argue with this.

When Anthony stood to greet him, Aziraphale decided that changing together would have made this anticlimactic as well.

Anthony always looked good. He knew exactly how best to dress himself and had a flare for fashion, but he rarely ever wore a proper suit. Seeing him now, all his slim angles highlighted, Aziraphale flushed.

“Like what you see, angel?”

“Anthony, your mother’s right there…” Aziraphale said demurely.

Maddy, looking rather lovely herself in a wintry green dress, turned toward both of them. “Don’t stop because of me. Actually, please tell him he looks nice so it won’t take as much time to persuade him to dress in actual formal clothing next time.”

“Well, you do look quite dashing, darling. My heart practically stopped at the sight of you.” Aziraphale punctuated his words with a kiss on Anthony’s cheek.

“You look good too, angel, but if my heart stopped every time you dressed like that, I’d be dead.”

“I suppose the novelty of it plays a role,” Aziraphale said. After one more kiss, he took Anthony’s hand and led him to join Maddy on the couch. “Have my parents been by yet?”

“Yeah, they both went over to the church early. Edith’s helping corral the kids for the Nativity play and your dad’s getting everything else ready,” Maddy explained. “We should probably head over to join them pretty soon, unless you want to get there after everyone has already arrived.”

“Good Lord, no. The last thing I want is to make a scene with my arrival.” He felt Anthony’s hand twitch beside him, drawing his attention. He turned to Anthony and said, sternly, “No.”

“I wasn’t going to suggest. I’m just saying, if it were only me, I’d opt for the scene making.”

“Of course you would, ridiculous thing.” Aziraphale failed to sound disapproving. He turned back to Maddy and found her watching them with amusement. Aziraphale cleared his throat. “Maddy, dear, are you really alright with sleeping on the couch this evening? I can’t imagine it’s an appealing thought.”

“I’m not that old yet, I’ll be fine. Besides, the new couch can’t be that uncomfortable. When Tony woke me up, finally getting home last night, he said you’d both passed out here. He said you were still out when he left.”

“In fairness, Father did wake me almost immediately after Anthony was gone, precisely because he was concerned I would wake up stiff and thought I should relocate to bed. Although, I had fallen asleep sitting up with my neck in an odd position, so perhaps you’ll be fine as long as you’re stretched out properly.”

“Yeah and, Tony’s planning to stay over today and tomorrow, but I’m only sleeping over tonight, so I can handle the couch.” Maddy said this easily, but her eyes darted nervously toward Anthony when she spoke. 

She had good reason to be concerned; her son immediately teased her. “Why aren’t you sleeping over Christmas night, Mom?”

“You know why,” she said.

“Is it because Xave is going to be in town?”

Maddy sat up, arched an intimidating brow, and stared Anthony directly in the eye. “You want to start this game, kiddo? Because if we’re teasing each other about spending time with boyfriends, I’m pretty sure I’m way harder to embarrass than you are.”

Anthony looked at her. He looked at Aziraphale.

Aziraphale put a hand on his arm. “It’s best to end hostilities before things get out of hand. Don’t you think?”

“I guess,” said Tony. “Since it’s Christmas.”

“That’s the ticket, dear. Now, if we’re all ready. We should probably head over.”

If, as Anthony had theorized in a panic last evening, they were in a Christmas movie, now would be the time for a gentle snow fall. In evidence against the theory, nothing fell from the sky as they walked to church. Even the stars were hidden by clouds. It hardly mattered. There was a Christmasy feeling just the same. The Sunday school crowd had already arrived, and you could see them silhouetted in the lit windows of their classrooms. Their excitement was evident even in shadow form.

Other attendants to the evening’s service were pulling in to the parking lot now, happily greeting one another with ‘Merry Christmases’ and wide grins. For the most part, Aziraphale did not know who amongst them disapproved of his return, who was happy to see it, and who did not care at all. Still, he smiled and shared his own bright greetings. If he was going to be an outcast tonight, it would not be his own doing. Others would have to be rude first.

Still, he was glad they had not waited too long to come over. The pews were far from full just now, and they were able to walk down the aisle without drawing too much attention. He did catch sight of Mrs. Jones turning her nose up at them. He would take the higher road, he decided just a polite nod and nothing more.

Anthony, ever an imp at heart, did what Aziraphale privately wanted to do himself. “Merry Christmas, Mrs. Jones! Hey, Mrs. Jones, Merry Christmas.”

The old woman’s nostrils flared.

Anthony looked quite pleased with himself and, because Aziraphale was quite pleased with him too, he reached out for Anthony’s hand.

“Do you think it would be overboard if I asked her what she thought about our gay apparel?” said Anthony.

“It might be a bit much, for now. Although, if we get a chance to speak to her after tomorrow’s mass, I think we could work it in to conversation.”

Elijah was sitting in a chair on the dais, not far from his pulpit. He let Anthony’s rambunctious greeting pass without comment. All he did was wave and gesture toward the front pew, the same spot where they had always sat in the old days. It felt so strange to be back.

As the church filled up, Aziraphale was uncomfortably aware of the eyes on him and whispers about the room. It was somewhat traditional for the pastor and his family to be a source of gossip and Aziraphale’s return offered a next chapter in the drama. Still, as intended, he kept his head held high and acted above it all. It helped to have the Jays with him. Anthony had mastered a cooler than thou sort of nonchalance and Maddy was unafraid to make direct eye contact with anyone she overheard.

Then, when the service began, all of that faded away. Suddenly all the drama and changes of the last few years, seemed never to have occurred. The Christmas Eve service had always been as much show as sermon, more tradition than anything. It was nearly the same script that had been used in Aziraphale’s day playing an angel in an embarrassing pipe cleaner halo. They changed out the songs, but always from the same choice of ten or so. Elijah, who’d been so stressed about his sermon for Christmas Day, was content to rely on old standbys for tonight. The Christmas Eve service was about the story of Jesus’ birth, tomorrow they could dig deeper into the meaning.

Aziraphale let himself slip into the comfort of it all, of the things that reminded him of his human childhood, of stories he’d lived in a life before. He did what he’d been telling himself to do more often these past few days. He tried to live the moment, not worrying about what might be said when the service was over. Not even letting himself think pleasantly of preparing tomorrow’s breakfast with his mother tonight, or of the fact that he’d get to fall asleep with Anthony in his arms.

He was here, now, and he’d focus on the children’s voices, the cardboard star above the manger, and the way a sudden stream of moonlight came through the colored glass of the windows.

And then, it was over. Elijah took his spot by the church’s door, shaking hands and giving blessings and telling children they ought to get to bed soon so that Santa could come. Aziraphale, Anthony, and Maddy waited in their pew.

“You think we should slip into the Fellowship Hall through the side door and go help your Mother clean up?” Maddy asked. “The kids probably wrecked the place.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry. There’re always a few parent volunteers willing to do that, and the children always clean up after themselves when they think Father Christmas might withhold ‘the goods’ as it were.”

He was right. Edith reappeared in the sanctuary before the last congregants were out the door. She joined them, sitting in the pew and waiting until Elijah’s work was finally through and there was nothing left to do but lock up.

They walked together, back to the house. The clouds had moved to block the moon once more, leaving it up to the Christmas décor to light the night. It was a pleasant thing, to be all together like this on Christmas Eve, with little left to do but enjoy themselves until bedtime.

“I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m about ready to get into pajamas,” said Elijah as they entered the house.

Maddy, who pulled off her heels at the first chance, agreed. “Definitely. There’s no way I’m going to relax in this dress.”

Aziraphale, last into the house, along with Anthony, was still hanging up his coat when Edith turned to him. “We’ve still got to make breakfast for tomorrow. Do you want to change first or would you rather wait until we’re done?”

Glancing down at his suit, Aziraphale considered what he’d rather get flour on and ultimately decided that pajamas were easier to launder. “Let’s bake while we’re comfortable, hmm?”

She nodded and then hurried up the stairs after her husband. Apparently that was the answer she’d been hoping for. Maddy had already taken her overnight bag into the downstairs bathroom, leaving Aziraphale and Anthony alone.

“You go change first, angel. I know you don’t want any previews.” Anthony flashed a toothy grin.

“Cheeky,” Aziraphale accused. “But I suppose I’ll take you up on the offer. Wait down here, darling. I’ll tell you when the room is free.”

So, Aziraphale hurried up the stairs himself, and made short work getting out of his suit and into a warm pair of tartan pajamas. There was a pile of gifts sitting on his desk, ready to be brought down and put beneath the tree before bedtime that evening. However, he paused now to study them, and plucked one particular rectangle out from its place in the stack.

Maddy was already out of the bathroom when Aziraphale returned. He stopped, a few steps from the bottom, to admire the sight of mother and son sitting together on the couch. They were laughing about something or other, both their faces lit with joy. Aziraphale remembered how odd it had been to see them together, back when Anthony was small, when Aziraphale had been uncertain how to share him.

There were many things in Anthony’s life that Aziraphale was thrilled Crowley had gotten to experience: his career as a rock star, the freedom of owing nothing to Heaven or Hell, the ability to flex his creativity, but more than any of that Aziraphale was glad that he’d wound up with such a wonderful mother. He deserved it.

“Ezra, honey, why’d you stop on the stairs?”

Aziraphale startled and turned around; Edith had come up behind him while he’d been lost in thought.

“Oh, my apologies, I lost myself a moment. You can go ahead to the kitchen, I have something I need to give to Anthony first.”

Edith glanced down at the box and, though she hadn’t a clue what it was, simply beamed and gave Aziraphale a hug. “Of course.”

The Jays had noticed them by now and Anthony’s attention was all on Aziraphale, head cocked with curiosity. “You’re giving me a present now?”

Aziraphale nodded and approached him, the box outstretched. “I thought it made more sense to give this to you tonight. That is, if you don’t mind not receiving much of anything tomorrow from me.”

“Honestly, angel, I didn’t realize I was getting anything aside from the car.”

“It’s nothing much,” Aziraphale told him. “Just a little thing, really.”

Over Anthony’s shoulder, Maddy was watching with interest. She regained her senses enough to mutter something about eggnog and follow Edith into the kitchen, leaving the pair their privacy.

Aziraphale handed the box to Anthony. As a child, he’d been prone to tearing into gifts with reckless abandon, but he didn’t do so now. He was remarkably careful with it, opening the paper along the careful folds and creases that Aziraphale had made, leaving everything intact. He frowned with endearing frustration when all he pulled out was a white garment box, unmarked with so much as a letter to show where it might have come from.

It was only upon opening that and pulling aside the tissue paper within that he finally found his gift: a pair of silky, black, pajamas, with his initials embroidered over the breast pocket. Aziraphale watched with delight as Anthony ran his fingers over the fabric and whistled.

“Nothing much,” he repeated. “Angel, these are really nice. I don’t think they were nothing much.”

“Well, nothing much compared to the car. I thought you should have them. I know you usually wear old sweat pants and t-shirts and that sort of thing to bed but, you ought to have something luxurious, at least some of the time.”

Anthony stood from his cushion, putting the box aside, so he could properly pull Aziraphale in for a kiss. When he stepped back and picked his present up again, he gave Aziraphale a cocky smile. “You just want me to feel nicer when you hold me.”

“I’ll confess to having thought of it,” Aziraphale admitted. “I also think you’ll look quite handsome in them.”

Anthony was always so daring when he was the one flirting, but the moment Aziraphale returned fire he turned bright red and got surly. He muttered, “Guess I’ll go put them on then,” and left the room.

Beaming to himself, Aziraphale made for the kitchen. Edith was already assembling the ingredients for tomorrow’s French toast which, in the old days, they had always put together the night before, so that they could be popped in the oven to cook while they opened presents in the morning. Maddy stood, leaning against the counter, a cup of eggnog in her hands. The Clarks often had theirs with a splash of rum, but Maddy, of course, would do no such thing. She was just enjoying something sweet.

“You really didn’t have to leave the room. We weren’t doing anything inappropriate, I assure you.”

“I know,” said Maddy. “But you two deserve a little privacy every once in a while. You should be able to have romantic moments without me and your mom watching, even if we’d be rooting you on.”

“Thank you,” Aziraphale told her, and he meant it for every piece of what she said. Now, going to wash his hands, he addressed his mother. “Do you know where Father has gotten off too? He keeps disappearing. This isn’t to do with whatever you and he and Anthony were getting up to earlier today, is it?”

“Yeah, I want to know about that too!” said Maddy. “You three left me and Ezra to man the charity drive by ourselves for almost an hour in the middle of the day. What was up with that?”

Ignoring them for a moment, Edith handed Aziraphale a small bowl. “I’ll get the actual French toast together, if you work on the praline topping, okay?”

It was only after he nodded, and they were able to get to work that she began to explain herself. “First of all, your father’s current disappearance has nothing to do with that. When we were upstairs getting changed he was talking about our first Christmas together with Tony, before Maddy joined us. That was the year we got that Nintendo, remember? Your father wanted it, but wouldn’t ask for it. So I pretended it was for you boys, even though you were already so happy with all the books you had and Tony was thrilled with his matchbox cars. Anyway, Elijah started talking about how he used to play it with you two sometimes and then with Maddy too, when she’d visit, because Tony would come over and talk if they did. He thinks he saw it up in the attic when we were bringing down the Christmas decorations. He’s gone up to look for it.”

She said nothing more, until Aziraphale asked, “And what about the earlier disappearance?”

Edith gave both he and Maddy a mischievous look. It didn’t suit her. She came across less devilish and more like a small child who felt they’d been wicked by putting their shoes on wrong on purpose. “That is a secret. You’ll find out tomorrow. We were just preparing for something.”

“He had the guitar,” Maddy pointed out. She was talking strictly to Aziraphale, as though they were now together in their detective work. “Whatever they were doing, Tony had the guitar.”

“Ah,” said Aziraphale. “That must be it then. Father wanted him to be part of the service, he must have finally worn Anthony down.”

Edith did not confirm nor deny these words which, as far as Aziraphale was concerned, was proof that he was right. From upstairs, Anthony’s voice rang out with delighted shock. “No fucking way!”

By this, Aziraphale surmised that the game machine had been located and that, for the first time in years, Elijah had managed to cause Anthony unbridled joy. Maddy took her exit from the kitchen, going to join the others in their fun. While Aziraphale and Edith worked side by side, first creating, then cleaning up, they stayed mostly quiet. It was pleasant to be together, to enjoy each other’s company without needing words. For the first time in so long, there were no needed explanations, no required apologies. They could simply be, working in tandem, and smiling at each other as they over heard the nonsense in the other room.

Elijah, Maddy, and Anthony were laughing and whooping and groaning in over dramatized annoyance. By the sound of it, one time champion Maddy was now facing a legitimate challenge from her son.

“They seem to be having fun,” Edith said softly, when the last of the measuring spoons had been dried. “I almost don’t want to go out there and spoil everything.”

“I’m sure they wouldn’t mind if we watched. Anthony, at the very least, always appreciates a good audience.”

Edith laughed, then looked up at Aziraphale. Her eyes had gone watery and, all at once, she was hugging him. “Thank you for coming home.”

He knew what she meant by that. She meant she was glad to have everyone back. She meant that, for the first time in years, Christmas felt like Christmas. She meant ‘sorry’ but she hadn’t said that because he’d asked her not to.

Aziraphale held her. She smelled of pastries and comfort, like the childhood he’d finally had after 6,000 years. He was happy that Crowley had gotten a wonderful mother, but he supposed, after all was said and done, he hadn’t done so badly himself in that department. It had just taken some work.

“I’m very glad I came back,” Aziraphale told her, and he meant it too.

Smiling at him, Edith let him go. “Let’s go watch. You can cheer for Tony and I suppose I’ll have to cheer for your father, although it sounds like he’s losing.”

“You could always cheer for Maddy,” Aziraphale teased.

The next half hour passed in pleasant laughter before the fire, as little cartoon characters raced their way through increasingly absurd locals. Eventually, however, the game was put away, tucked up beneath the television to be enjoyed again some other day. It was getting late, but no one was quite ready for bed. They sat around and talked of nothing much and everything, while Anthony plucked out Christmas carols on his guitar. He made a handsome picture, sat on the floor by the hearth, the fire casting its dancing glow on his cheeks. It made his hair look like flame itself, and highlighted all the gorgeous angles of his face. He looked good in his pajamas, and Aziraphale congratulated himself on a gift well chosen.

Aziraphale did not realize quite how much he was staring, until he became aware of the parents watching him. They were looking at him as though he’d done something sweet and ridiculous, and he knew his expression must have shown just how smitten he was.

Anthony didn’t notice any of it. He’d disappeared into whatever he was playing and had forgotten the rest of the room entirely.

When, at last, the fire began to sputter and they all began to yawn, Elijah announced that they really all ought to be getting to bed. The last mugs and glasses of the night were cleaned, the couch was done up with sheets and pillows and blankets, Anthony’s guitar was put away, and finally they said goodnight to Maddy and headed upstairs. All four of them.

Every Christmas Eve that Aziraphale had shared with Anthony beneath the Clarks’ roof had seen them sharing a room. It was part of the tradition, as much as French Toast and Nativity plays. Still, Aziraphale eyed the Clarks closely as they walked up the stairs ahead of he and Anthony. He kept waiting for them to say something, to react, or at least make a face. Even taking the homosexuality out of the equation, Aziraphale thought there might be some concern over them ‘living in sin’ or what have you.

Such a response never came.

At the top of the steps, the Clarks went toward their room and Anthony went towards Aziraphale’s. More slowly, still cautious, Aziraphale followed him. At the threshold to his room, he turned one last time. The Clarks were looking at him, but all they did was wave.

“Goodnight, honey,” said Edith.

“Night, Ez,” said Elijah and then they closed the door to their room.

Blinking, slightly stunned, Aziraphale turned away and closed his own door. Anthony was standing in the middle of his room, staring at Aziraphale’s bed. When he noticed he had Aziraphale’s attention he said, “I kind of forgot that you had a twin bed here. It’s very tiny.”

“If you’d prefer, we could always head up to the attic and see if there’s an old sleeping bag lying around. That would truly be like old times,” Aziraphale said very seriously. He waited until Anthony started to backpedal before he chuckled. “I’m kidding, dear. I’ve very much been looking forward to being able to hold you through the night, and I’m not going to give it up so easily. Besides, the few times we have shared a bed recently, make me think we don’t need much by way of space. You cling.”

“I don’t cling,” Anthony insisted.

“Wrap then. Like a boa constrictor.” He could see Anthony gearing up to argue and refuse to snuggle all evening. Aziraphale added, “To clarify, this is in no way a complaint. I enjoy it. It’s comforting. I like being held.”

“Good then,” said Anthony. “Because it’s the only way we’re fitting in your bed.”

It took a bit of doing, after all the bed was small and it was pushed into a corner of the room, but they managed to get themselves comfortably situated before Aziraphale turned off the light. It was a wonderful thing to hold each other in the darkness, to feel every rise and fall of Anthony’s breath within him.

“I never told you,” Anthony said, “I like the pjs. I never got a pair because I thought I’d look like a dork, but I think they look classy as fuck. Thank you.”

“Look like a dork?” Aziraphale gasped with pretended offense. “I’ve always warn pajamas.”

“I know, that’s why I thought I’d look like a dork.”

Aziraphale squeezed him and Anthony laughed until he decided it was a better idea to kiss Aziraphale instead. It should have been a quick little thank you kiss, but Aziraphale held him close for a second one, and that turned into a third and so on, until Aziraphale found himself being straddled and found his hands on a set of hips that were only barely holding up a pair of silky trousers. There were fingers in his hair, tugging just slightly at his curls, and he could feel himself beginning not to care so much about all the other people in the household, when a door opened in the hallway.

They both froze, the mood immediately gone, as they strained to hear what was going on beyond the walls of the room. When Anthony whispered, Aziraphale felt his breath, “Who do you think it is?”

“Couldn’t say. I don’t know why either of them would be up again, unless… she wouldn’t.”

“What?”

“You don’t suppose Mother has gone downstairs to stuff the stocking while everyone else is in bed, do you? She used to, so it would seem more like magic when we got up.”

Anthony was quiet for a moment and all Aziraphale could hear was the sound of their hearts beating. Finally Anthony answered, “That is one hundred percent, exactly what she’s doing. We’re up here, five seconds from humping each other, and she’s down there playing Santa Claus for us.”

“We weren’t five seconds from… isn’t there a more poetic word for it?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Five seconds from, I don’t fucking know, pleasuring each other with the friction of our great passions.”

“I know that started as a joke, but that actually was rather poetic by the time you were done,” Aziraphale told him. Then, because he could not help himself, he added, “You know, you might consider writing lyrics for a living.”

“Whelp, if the mood wasn’t ruined by your mom putting out chocolate Santas for us, it’s officially been murdered by your dad jokes.” Anthony moved from atop Aziraphale, to simply curling in at his side. “Night, angel.”

“But I like being able to talk in the darkness with you, even if there’s nothing else going on. That was one of my favorite things about having sleep overs when we were small. Stay up a little while and talk to me, darling. I miss it so.”

“What you want to talk about?” Anthony asked. He was getting sleepy, Aziraphale could hear it in the huskiness of his voice. He liked that sound.

“I don’t know. You could tell me what it was you were getting up to with my parents when you all disappeared this afternoon?”

“Good night, angel.”

With that, Anthony curled up against Aziraphale even more deeply and refused to speak any further. Aziraphale decided that this was very nice too.

As far as Tony was concerned, his first real Christmas had been his sixth. It was the first one he’d spent at the Clarks. It had not been perfect—his mother had not been there—but it had been the first Christmas that felt like something out of the movies.

He had not awoken to arguing or crying. His father had not been there to make snide remarks while his mother tried to look happy about taking presents out from beneath a tiny plastic tree that his father had yelled at her for wasting money on. There had been a real tree and a promise of a mountain of presents.

Tony could still remember waking up that morning. It had been in this room, in his own little bed across from Ezra’s. He had woken with a jolt of excitement, scrambled from his bed and climbed onto Ezra’s. Not to snuggle with him, but to jump up and down on the end until Ezra awoke and reached for his glasses, his hair sticking up at odd angles. He’d announced that it was Christmas, forced Ezra up, tried to help him into his bathrobe and slippers as fast as possible, while actually making it all far more difficult, and then dragged him downstairs.

Standing at the foot of the steps, hand in hand with Ezra, looking at the stuffed stockings and all the wrapped gifts beneath the tree, Tony had not thought there could ever be a Christmas morning better.

There had been, the next year. Year after year, Tony had awoken in Ezra’s room, in sleeping bags from then on, but still just where he ought to be. He’d made a nuisance of himself, forcing Ezra up, shouting for everyone to wake and clambering down the stairs. Those were better Christmases because they had everything from that first year and his mother besides, waking up on the couch, exhausted and happy.

For years there had been nothing but perfect Christmas mornings, even when he’d gotten old enough that he became prone to sleeping late and had to be awoken himself. Then it had ended and Christmas had never been quite so wonderful ever again.

But now here he was, back in Ezra’s room, and convinced that none of those beautiful mornings could in any way compare to this one. He woke, curled around Ezra, his head pillowed on his chest, one of Ezra’s arms looped around his shoulders. Ezra was already awake, but he had hardly moved. He was humming to himself and running his fingers through Tony’s hair, as blissfully happy to find himself here as Tony was.

The parents were already awake, bustling on the floor below, putting water on to boil and setting the old Christmas tapes to greet the day.

Ezra had been waxing poetic lately, about appreciating things and slowing down. This was one of those moments, Tony decided, one worth remembering exactly as it was. He had never felt more at ease or more loved.

He moved, just slightly, so that he could look up at Ezra and offer a sleepy, “Merry Christmas, angel.”

Ezra smiled dotingly down on him. “Merry Christmas, my darling. Have you any interest in getting up?”

“Could stay here forever if the world’d let me. Think the parents might get impatient if we don’t make an appearance soon, though.”

“Seems likely,” Ezra agreed. He sat up, which forced Tony up in turn. It wasn’t so bad though. It put them at a better height for Tony to lean in for a kiss. It took Tony forever to grow anything by way of facial hair, but Ezra had morning bristle. Tony enjoyed the sensation.

As soon as they gathered the strength to throw off the blankets and properly greet the morning, Ezra began to assemble himself, reaching for glasses, bathrobe, and slippers. Tony simply stood barefoot on the carpet until Ezra insisted he at least put on a pair of socks so that he wouldn’t spend all morning worrying that Tony’s toes were cold.

Feet properly bundled, Ezra grabbed a pile of presents from his desk and then they headed downstairs together, entering into a living room warmed by fire. Tea and coffee had already been made, including a steaming mug each for Ezra and Tony. Ezra put his gifts beneath the tree, although they would only have to come out again a moment later, and then they all sat in relative quiet until enough caffeine had been absorbed that they were ready for the festivities of Christmas morn.

They started in on the stockings first. Edith had mostly filled them with candies, including some of the chocolate that Ezra had brought with him from London. There were other little items too, silly gifts she’d found throughout the year that had reminded her of one or the other of them. Tony got a keychain shaped like a guitar and a cheap pair of socks with musical notes printed on them. Ezra got a set of bookmarks with quotes from famous authors and a finger puppet that looked like William Shakespeare. 

“Would anyone like to give out their presents first?” asked Edith, when the stockings had been unstuffed. There was a clear answer, judging by the excited way she looked around at them. The answer was Edith.

“Why don’t you start, Mother?” said Ezra.

She beamed and rose from the couch to fetch her gifts from beneath the tree. Then she went around the room, handing out wrapped gifts one by one: first to Elijah and Ezra on the couch, then to Tony perched on the arm by Ezra’s side, and finally to Maddy in the armchair.

The process had gotten more steadily organized over the years, as Tony had grown into adult levels of patience, and they took turns opening so that everything could be properly oohed and ahhed over. They began with Maddy’s gift, a cashmere sweater Edith had seen her admire on multiple occasions, but never buy because she could not justify the price. Maddy squealed and gave Edith a hug.

Elijah was next, she’d gotten him a fancy new watch that Tony eyed with great interest. Before he’d decided to rent a house for Ezra’s gift, he’d been considering a watch instead. The only way Ezra was ever going to replace the faded old one that Tony had given him when they were boys, was to give him a new one now. Tony would have to ask Edith where she’d gotten it.

As Ezra went to unwrap his present from his mother, Edith stopped him. “You two should probably open yours at the same time. They match.”

Ezra and Tony glanced at each other, and then did as she asked, opening their gifts as one. They had each gotten a sweater, not purchased like Maddy’s, but lovingly hand knit. Ezra’s was the creamy color of buttermilk, with the detailing done in black yarn. Tony’s was its inverse, black with details of cream. They were each warm and soft and just the right size for the correct recipient.

Tony vowed that they could never wear them out of the house together. They would look like absolute dorks. Still, it was a sweet gift and loving gesture. His favorite bit being that she must have started them long before she knew they’d actually gotten together, meaning that she’d decided they needed couple clothing without knowing they were a couple. He thanked her profusely only to find that she was holding out another package.

Confused, he took it from her, raising a brow in her direction. Edith just smiled. She seemd almost nervous for him to open it. Beneath the wrapping was a small cardboard box, filled with tissue paper. Tony dug through it until he unearthed a small ornament, shaped like a pudgy, rosy cheeked, blond cherub. It was cutesy and slightly wall eyed, and not remotely the sort of thing that Tony would ever have bought for himself. That didn’t matter. He knew what it meant and he got up to hug Edith, more thankful than he’d ever been for anything she’d given him.

Then it was time for someone else to take a turn in gifting. Ezra volunteered. He passed out his parcels, something small for Maddy, something large for his mother, something medium for his father. He had nothing left to give Anthony and so settled for kissing him instead. Tony decided to accept it.

He watched with interest as Edith exclaimed over the new stand mixer Ezra had gotten her—“My old one hasn’t been working right and I was just thinking I ought to get a new one”—and Elijah gaped in wonder at an original copy of some old magazine published by the guy who’d founded the Methodist church—“I didn’t even know these still existed!”. Ezra’s gift to Maddy, which had looked like nothing by comparison, turned out to be his best work of all. She opened the little box he’d handed her and pulled a locket out from within. She took one look at the picture inside and her eyes watered. She pulled Ezra close and cried into his shoulder.

When she’d regained her voice, she said. “I’m going next. You’ve got to open yours from me, Ez.”

It was only as she was gathering her own gifts that Tony finally got a look at the picture that had made her cry. It was an image of Maddy and Tony, he in her lap, as she showed him how to play guitar. It did not bring tears to his eyes but he did give Ezra a small smile as he handed it back. Ezra knew them both so well.

“Okay, so most of these came from my trip to New York,” Maddy explained as she passed out her presents. “I dragged poor Xave to all sorts of fancy shops. He was a big help though, especially with Tony’s gift.”

Curiosity piqued, Tony felt the edges of the box beneath the wrapping, hoping for some clue. It was just a box. Even when he shook it there wasn’t much sound. Based on Edith’s new purse and Elijah’s new wallet, it might be some leather good, although Tony’s box was certainly larger.

When it was finally his turn, he tore the wrapping off and quickly opened the box. Inside was something warm and soft and woolen. He was not yet certain what it was, but a clear pattern had already emerged with all his gifts- the people who loved him desperately wanted him to be warm. Tony pulled the clothing free and found it was a coat, not the sort of plasticy puffy winter coat he’d always had as a child, but a classy woolen trench coat.

“I figured the only way I was going to get you to dress warm was if you looked good doing it. Xave helped me pick it out and the hat and the gloves that are in their too. He’s got a better sense of men’s fashion than I do. He’s got a better sense of fashion in general than I do.”

Tony stood, pulling the coat on to see how it fit. It felt good and it showed off his slim figure without exaggerating it. Better than anything, he liked the way it made Ezra look at him. “Thanks, Mom. I’ll actually wear it. Promise.”

“You’d better keep that promise,” she told him and pulled him down so she could kiss him on the cheek. “Now, Ez, it’s your turn. I didn’t get you something fancy from New York. It’s a bit more home made in your case. I hope that’s alright.”

“Certainly. I hardly need someone fetching me lovely things from the shopping district of a large international city anyway.” Still in his coat, Tony returned to his perch so that he could peer down as Ezra unwrapped his gift. It appeared to be a book at first, and Tony hardly second guessed this, after all a book was always a good choice for Ezra. However, once all the paper was gone, and Ezra opened to the first page, Tony realized it was actually a photo album.

Maddy had gone through every old box and book of photos that she and the Clarks owned and pulled out a selection of her favorites. Each and every page held a picture of Tony and Ezra, starting before Tony had even gone to live with the Clarks and ending with a blank spot for a picture of them this Christmas. It was a strange thing to flip through it, to watch them grow up together, through laughter and adoring gazes. Ezra put a hand to his heart and sniffed as he looked at Maddy. “Thank you. Thank you, I can’t tell you what this means to me.”

“Probably the same that it means to me to have the little picture in the locket,” Maddy told him. “I guess we’re both sentimental idiots, huh?”

Ezra laughed. “I’m afraid so. Easy marks, the two of us.”

“If you two keep giving each other pictures of me for presents, I’m going to start getting a swelled head,” Tony told them.

“Start?” Ezra asked with mock innocence.

“Ha ha,” said Tony flatly. “You know, I haven’t given any of my gifts out yet. I can still take them back.”

“You wouldn’t,” Ezra told him. “From what I’ve guessed, you’re looking forward to my gift at least as much as I am.”

Tony could not argue with that. He could, however, drag his feet and make Ezra wait even longer to find out precisely what he’d be getting. He looked to Elijah, hoping that the pastor would want to go next. He didn’t. He simply shook his head and waved a hand, encouraging Tony onward.

So, Tony went to the tree and gathered up the gifts he left there last night. He was cheekily proudest of his gift to Elijah, a copy of his own CD. Elijah accepted it with determined politeness and promised that he would listen to it as soon as he could. Tony almost wished he would record his reaction. That sort of discomfort always did well on the internet.

After Edith had received her cookbook and Maddy her certificate for a day at the spa, Tony turned, at last, to Ezra and handed him a large envelope. He’d spent a lot of time thinking about how exactly he wanted to display Ezra’s gift, before eventually panicking and printing out every image of the rental house he could find online to staple together. It was not the best example of his showmanship, but it did the job.

Doing his best to look completely unconcerned, he watched nervously as Ezra pulled out the packet of papers. The front page was an image of the little cottage, shot to show the ocean view. Quietly, Ezra flipped from page to page, looking at every picture Tony had provided him. From his perch on the arm of the couch, Tony could only see the top of Ezra’s head and the way his fingers glided over the page. He hoped he was right to read a certain pleasure into the touch of Ezra’s fingertips.

“Where is it?” he asked softly.

“Some little town over in Rhode Island. Just a drive up the coast.” Tony could not wait any longer and added, “Do you like it?”

Finally Ezra looked up at him. The expression in his eyes made Tony want to fall into them. There was a quiet, undercurrent of lust mixed with an intensely gentle love. “I love it, darling. Thank you.”

They had both completely forgotten that their parents were in the room, watching the entire back and forth. When Elijah spoke, they both jumped, “Wait, Tony, did you buy a house?! Can you afford a house?”

“What? No. It’s a rental. A weekend rental. The two of us already talked about it,” Tony said. To clarify, however, he asked Ezra, “You know that, right?”

“Yes, dear. This coming weekend, correct?”

“Yeah, Friday, Saturday, Sunday. For New Year’s.”

“Why would you need… Oh,” said Edith. Tony looked over at her and found she’d gone quite red. His own mother’s face was trained into practiced calm, but when he made eye contact with her she flushed, just slightly, and gave him a thumbs up. Apparently his romantic attempts were obvious, at least to most people.

“Oh?” asked Elijah, “Why ‘oh’?”

He looked at his wife’s red face, the way his son was eyeing Tony, and Maddy’s thumbs up. Then even he said “OH! Oh. Okay. Got it. A, uh, romantic getaway, huh? Good. That’s good. The two of you deserve some time alone.”

“We really don’t need to keep talking about this as a group,” Tony said, voice strained. He’d have given Ezra the gift in private if he’d known everyone was going to be weird about it.

“Right,” said Elijah. “Why don’t I give my gifts out?”

His presents, coming as they did with an escape from the horrific awkwardness that pervaded the room, were the most well received of all, despite them all coming in particularly small boxes.

Round the circle they went one last time. Maddy was pleased by a prepaid night on the town for her and Xave, Edith kissed Elijah over a pair of earrings, and Ezra looked utterly bewildered as he opened his own gift.

It was a smart phone, new and sleek and still with that tempting plastic film on the screen. Ezra stared at it, apparently in shock, and then shook his head. “No. This must have cost a fortune. My old one still functions. I can’t accept this. I—”

“Ezra,” Elijah said, voice so stern and calm that Ezra stopped his protests. “Of course you can accept it. I mean, our cell carrier has been trying to figure out why we haven’t upgraded one of the lines in years. You’ve been entitled to one of the free upgrades for ages.”

“I know. Mother offered them. It just always seemed silly, when the other one works perfectly well. And this certainly doesn’t appear to be of the free variety. I don’t know all the details but I know this is one of the expensive ones. It has the picture of the apple on it.”

It was the perfect opportunity to tease him, but Elijah spoke before Tony could get a comment in.

“Right, well, I figured you should have the newest one I could get, in case you refuse to replace it for the next eight years. Besides, the old one might work for making calls, but it’s not great for texting and you can’t go online and check your email and you can’t make video calls on it. You don’t think those are things you’re going to want to do when you’re back in England?”

Ezra looked at Elijah and then his eyes slid over to Edith. “You’d like me to call more often?”

Edith laughed, “I wouldn’t say ‘no’ to that, but we were thinking you’d probably want to talk to Tony. Especially when he goes on tour again and your schedules get more out of sync, I think the new phone might be a good thing to have.”

Now Ezra turned to Tony, then back down to his phone. In a much warmer voice than before, he said, “Thank you. I’ll make good use of it.”

In the kitchen a timer went off, announcing that the breakfast that had been lovingly prepared last night, was now ready to come out of the oven and be eaten. There was only one gift left to open, Elijah’s to Tony. He opened it in a hurry, surprised to find a box nearly identical to the one Edith’s earrings had come in. There was a silver necklace inside, its pendant a set of angel wings.

“Oh, that’s quite lovely,” Ezra remarked. “It will go nicely with all that black you wear.”

It did not mean to Ezra what it meant to the rest of them. Ezra had not been around in the aftermath of his own leaving. He had not been there to notice Edith’s own angel necklace disappear into her jewelry box or to notice its return when they’d made up.

Tony had and so he stared at this one slightly dumbfounded.

The festivities began to move into the dining room and kitchen. Edith took Ezra to help her get everything out of the oven and ready, while Maddy went to put out napkins. Tony stayed where he was, until it was only he and Elijah left in the room. The pastor ruffled his hair.

Tony was still seated and so he had to look up, the way he had back when he was a boy. Elijah’s eyes had gone watery and so had his smile. “I’d tell you to take care of him, but you always have.”

“Thank you,” said Tony.

“We both know I should be the one saying that,” Elijah told him and, for the first time in nearly six years, when Elijah hugged Tony, Tony hugged him back.

It had not snowed overnight, but the temperature had dropped and the grass crunched beneath their feet as the Jays and Clarks made their way over to the church. Aziraphale had spent his past five Christmases with Adam and friends in Tadfield, where every Christmas had just enough snow to play in and not enough to stop anyone from visiting family. By contrast, Westwich looked decidedly unChristmassy, a failure to live up to the promise of New England, but Aziraphale did not care in the least.

He was happier than he’d been in some time. Stomach full of his mother’s cooking, hand in hand with Anthony, he’d have already called it a perfect Christmas although it was not yet 9 AM.

The congregation was beginning to arrive, smaller in number than they’d been the previous evening, but still more than most weeks. Adults waved and smiled and wished each other a ‘Merry Christmas’ while children clung tightly to new toys and undoubtedly wished they were home where they could play with everything else they’d got. Aziraphale beamed at all of them.

Once in the church, he took his spot with the rest of the family in the front most pew. Anthony had brought his acoustic guitar, but was refusing to say why. When he slid it beneath his seat, Aziraphale took one last stab at getting the information out of him. “What did you bring it for?”

“I’m still not telling,” Anthony said. But despite his secrets, he took Aziraphale’s hand and held it as the service began for no apparent reason other than he could.

Aziraphale had never enjoyed the Christmas Day service as much as the Christmas Eve one. There was no special pageantry here, just the usual order of events with a bit of nativity theming. Still, the day came with a generally pleasant mood and Aziraphale reveled in it. He did not need angelic powers to feel the sense of love that permeated the building. It was obvious, especially since he was feeling it too.

However, as the service drew towards Elijah’s sermon, the one which he’d struggled so much to write, Aziraphale noticed that not everyone was feeling the Christmas cheer. Both of the Clarks seemed oddly nervous. The knuckles of Edith’s hands were white from clutching her skirt as she watched Elijah closely. For his part, the Reverend Clark sat behind the pulpit, bobbing his knee as the choir finished one more song. He was staring, intently, at a spot on the floor, his mind focused on anything but the music.

It took him a moment to realize the song was over and he laughed uncomfortably as he made his way to the pulpit. “Thanks again to our musical director and our choir. You all do a wonderful job the whole year, but there’s just something extra special about those Christmas hymns, isn’t there?”

Elijah’s hands did not shake as he pulled the pages of his sermon from his pocket, but he held them stiffly, as though actively refusing to tremble. Aziraphale frowned, looking toward the Jays now to see if they’d noticed anything. Maddy appeared slightly concerned, but Tony just gave him a small smile and squeezed his hand. He knew something.

Elijah cleared his throat. “Last night, at our Christmas Eve service, just like we do every year, we heard the story of the birth of Christ. We saw it too, acted out for us by our Sunday schoolers. That’s another thing we do every year. Even if you weren’t here last night, you’ve been hearing that story through songs on the radio, in picture books you’ve read to your children, you’ve probably even heard it from Linus in Charlie Brown’s Christmas. The story is fresh with us. So today, rather than telling it all again, I’d like to fucus on the why of the story, rather than the events of it.

“At this time of year, you’ll often hear reminders that ‘Jesus is the reason for the season’ from holy folks, usually shaking their heads at people who are caught up in the gifts and the parties and the fun. But even for those of us who keep Christ in mind, we can get carried away too. We want Christmas miracles and obvious signs from God. We talk about visits from angels and guiding stars.

“It’s not really about that though, is it? It’s about love. It’s that simple. It’s always been that simple. It’s about God’s love for us and our love for each other and for Him. It’s plain, in the first Epistle of John ‘For this is the message you heard from the beginning: We should love one another.’ It’s something we all know, but something we often forget. It’s something we sometimes need to be reminded of.”

Elijah paused here to gaze out across his flock, giving every member the sense that he was looking just at them, speaking just to them alone. But Aziraphale felt certain that he was the only one with whom Elijah had made eye contact.

He continued. “And yet, I remember a time, almost exactly fifteen years ago, if you can believe it, when I needed a child to remind me of that. It was Christmas Eve Eve. 1996. That year, like every year, we’d just had rehearsal for our nativity play. And that year, just like every year, we’d laid out all our donated goods for the charity drive.

“That night a woman in need came to the door of our church. Cold, hungry, frightened. With her was her small son, just as cold, just as hungry, and even more frightened than she was. What was my first reaction? Caught off guard, I’m ashamed to say it, I tried to turn her away. It was my 10-year-old son who lived God’s word that night, who remembered why we tell the story of Jesus Christ. He begged Edith and I to let this woman and her son stay, to provide them with food, warmth, and kindness.”

Maddy turned to Aziraphale and gave him a smile, all the more beautiful for its weariness. Anthony looked steadfastly ahead.

“To quote John again, ‘This is how we know what love is. Jesus lay down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers and sisters. If anyone has material possessions and sees a brother or sister in need but has no pity on them, how can the love of God be in that person? Dear children let us not love with words or speech, but with actions and in truth.’

“My son showed me that that night, and he continued to remind me of it daily for years afterward. Because, as many of our long time members know, that night was not the last time that we saw that woman and her son. Maddy and Tony eventually came to join us here. First Tony on his own—my son’s idea. Then Maddy as our resident. That was my son’s idea too. And, whenever I forgot the love that our Lord commands of us, I looked to my son and to Tony too, because they took to each other with the sort of deep, abiding, giving, self-sacrificing love that everyone should aspire to. Whenever I needed a reminder I saw it in the way those two little boys stood by each other, stood up for each other, the way they laughed together, the way they gave of themselves for one another. That star, the aging cardboard one up above our Bethlehem? Tony made that, because Ezra needed his help.”

Aziraphale was tense now, uncertain where Elijah intended to go with all this. Neither his mother nor Anthony would look at him, they were both fixated ever forward. They knew something, and that meant that there must be something to know.

“ ‘For this is the message you heard from the beginning: We should love each other’ This is the meaning of Christmas. This is why God sent his son to us. This is what we should all strive to remember. It isn’t a bright and shining thing, but it should be our guiding light. I forgot it again six years ago, just after Christmas.”

And now Aziraphale froze.

“I think a lot of you know this story, although I never told it. Churches often have a weakness for gossip. I’ll be plain now. My son told me he was gay and I did not accept him. It was a sin, in my eyes, and he had to change. He would not. We hardly spoke for years and when we did, the words were never kind.”

There were eyes on Aziraphale, but he hardly noticed them. They did not matter.

“I looked to the Bible and found only what suited me. When I read John’s First Epistle, I saw only its warnings. ‘Dear children, do not let anyone lead you astray. The one who does what is right is righteous, just as the one who does what is sinful is of the devil, because the devil has been sinning from the beginning. The reason the son of God appeared was to destroy the devil’s work.’”

Had Anthony not been holding his hand, Aziraphale might have left now, might not have trusted that, wherever it was going, it was place he would like. But Anthony knew something, and Aziraphale stayed.

“My reminder of what it meant to be righteous was gone and I asked the Lord why? What had I done wrong? How had I failed? How could I fix this? All the while preoccupied with sin, forgetting what it was to be righteous.

“Over time, I came to question myself. Was I right to be so unbending? I became uncertain what the Godly path was. What did the Lord want of me? I wanted a sign. I wanted a miracle. I wanted them big and bright as a visit from an angel or a star on high.

“It didn’t happen. I had to proceed uncertain.”

And here, Elijah let out a wavering sigh. He was an experienced public speaker, but not an experienced confessor. This was not easy for him.

“This year, for the first time in almost six years, my son is home. I’m sure you’ve seen him. Tony’s back too. That tends to happen. You can’t have one without the other.” Elijah laughed nervously and so did a few members of the congregation. Aziraphale could pick Marjory Holmes out from among them.

“It’s been awkward, between Ezra and I. He’s found me hard to forgive and I… well, I’ve still been thinking a lot about the warnings in John’s First Epistle. ‘The one who does what is sinful is of the devil’

“Last week, I learned that Ezra and Tony are dating. I’m sure most of you already know that. Again: churches, gossip. It… I struggled with it, despite myself. That innocent love that once guided me… sinful.”

Aziraphale nearly rose from his seat, but Anthony had a grip on him and shook his head just slightly. Aziraphale settled himself down.

“I’d never gotten that big sign. I worried that I’d decided wrong. Then, a few days ago, I heard the piano playing in our sanctuary, in the house of God. And I came and I looked down from the balcony and I saw the two of them sitting right there on that bench. Tony was playing for Ezra. Tony, you might know, loves rock music. He wasn’t playing that. He was playing something old and sweet, because that’s what Ezra likes. He used to do that when they were little too. Because love is giving and doing for others.

“When they were little I admired a love that was deep, abiding, giving, and self-sacrificing. I’d admired the way they stood by each other, stood up for each other, the way they laughed together and gave of themselves. Standing in that balcony, I realized all of that was still true. And I realized that, all this time, I’d had my message and my miracle. I’d had my answer. The Lord had shown me love through them long ago and the Lord was showing me that love now. It was not a sin. It had never been a sin. It had always been love.”

And now, at last, Anthony did glance down at Aziraphale and give a hopeful little smile. Aziraphale could not return it, because his lip had started to tremble and tears had started fall.

“And the answer had been in the Bible too. Because below what John had written about sin and the devil, about righteousness and the way that Jesus was sent to have us follow, right down below was the definition of righteousness.

“ ‘For this is the message you heard from the beginning: we should love one another… And this is his command to: to believe in the name of his son, Jesus Christ, and to love one another as he commands us.’

“That is why we’re here today. That is why Jesus was born. To show us the way, to teach us all to love one another. And sometimes we will stumble and sometimes we will forget, but we can always look to one another, to the examples that we see in others’ lives. And we can always ask God for His blessing and His forgiveness and His willingness to help us learn time and time again.”

There was the sound of a door creaking open and slamming shut. Someone had walked out. Elijah had to have known that that might happen, that some people might leave, and others might stay for now and never return. He had to have known, and he had said all that anyway, not simply accepting Aziraphale’s love for Anthony, but celebrating it, claiming it not simply as unsinful, but as something holy and worthy of aspiration.

He’d proclaimed their love ineffable.

“With that,” said Elijah, “I’d like to ask Tony to come up here and play something for us. He used to sing in the church, back when he was small, and I’d been hoping he would again. He only agreed to do so, if Edith and I joined him, however. So, my apologies for my part of that. Tony?”

In all of this, Aziraphale had forgotten that Anthony had a part to play. Shocked, he blinked away his tears, as Anthony took his guitar and Aziraphale’s mother and headed to the front of the church.

There was muttering within the congregation, but Anthony took it all in stride. He was a professional and nothing this audience did could faze him. He pulled up one of the folding chairs that sat behind the pulpit and placed it right in the center of the dais. Edith and Elijah stood beside him, framing him between them. Back in the pew, Maddy scooched over and put an arm around Aziraphale. This was all a surprise to her as well.

Anthony forewent his usual stage banter, he did not even introduce the song. He simply began to sing and to play. At the first notes of it, Maddy laughed quietly.

“I should have known,” she whispered. “Every Christmas he’s back at the Muppets.”

“Bless us all, who gather here.

The loving family I hold dear

No place on earth compares with home

And every path will bring me back from where I roam”

Although he’d begun alone, Edith and Elijah joined in at certain moments. For Edith it was the line about family. For Elijah it was about coming home again. The tears that Aziraphale had stifled before, started anew. He should have known Anthony would have staged it all out for maximum affect.

“Let us always love each other

Lead us to the light

Let us hear the voice of reason

Singing in the night”

Then, for the first time, Elijah sang alone. It was one line, but one line expertly picked.

“Let us run from anger”

Followed by Edith’s:

“And catch us when we fall.”

And Anthony again:

“Teach us in our dreams and please, yes, please

Bless us one and all.”

Chapter Text

Aziraphale sat heavily on the couch and stared at the empty hearth. He was still quite stunned. The Christmas service had only just ended, and refreshments and conversation were currently being shared in the Fellowship Hall. Maddy had decided it best to opt out of all that. She had ushered Aziraphale and Anthony back to the manse with an almost impressive speed, while warding off all unwanted conversation. Edith and Elijah could interface with the public. Aziraphale and Anthony could drink something warm in front of the fire.

Maddy was presently in the kitchen, putting the water on, while Anthony futzed with long matches until the Duraflame log in the fireplace finally caught. His work done, he settled himself beside Aziraphale, with an arm around his shoulder. “How you feeling, angel? It wasn’t… it wasn’t too much, was it? Your dad ran it by me first and I told him it would be alright but—”

“It wasn’t too much. It was lovely. It was more than I would have hoped for, for him to use his pulpit like that. I couldn’t have imagined it last week, let alone six years ago.” Aziraphale sniffed and wiped at his eyes again. He kept tearing up whenever he thought about it. “And the song choice was quite lovely, even though your mother informs me that it was from the puppets.”

Anthony squeezed Aziraphale until he laughed, kissed him on the temple, and then rested his forehead against Aziraphale’s curls. “I wish it had always been like this for you, angel.”

Aziraphale paused, watching the dance of the flames in the fire. He was in a warm house, on Christmas Day, with the promise of an afternoon with humans who cared deeply about him. There was good food to be eaten and games to be played. He was being held by the creature dearest in the world to him. It was a lovely spot to be in. “Well, we’re here now, however we got here. That’s good enough for me.”

“That’s how I usually think about it,” said Maddy. Aziraphale turned to look and saw her entering from the kitchen with a tray of steaming mugs. She gave Aziraphale his tea first and smiled at him. “If it’s good now, there’s no point in trying to figure out which shitty things were necessary to get here. I’m just going to enjoy the good things I’ve got, and right now, I’ve got a lot of good things.”

She handed Anthony a cup of coffee, kissing him on the top of his head as she did. Then, her own coffee in hand, Maddy settled into the armchair. They could have continued talking of philosophy, but Anthony decided to tease his mother instead. “Is Xave one of the good things?”

Maddy rolled her eyes, but smiled. “Yeah, you know what? He is. I still don’t know exactly how serious it is, but I’ve had a lot of fun with him, I legitimately like talking to him, and I still think he’s really attractive. At the very least I have finally met one of the life goals I set in high school. So there’s that.”

She raised her mug, and Aziraphale did to. She deserved the toast. “When is he coming, by the way? What time?”

Maddy glanced at her watch. “He’s doing Christmas Morning and Church with his family, then they’re all having lunch together… He said he’d get on the train after that and call me to pick him up when he gets to town. Probably between 4 and 5, I’d guess. He’ll be here for dinner.”

Had Aziraphale not been pressed up against Anthony’s side, he would not have felt the tension go through him. By all accounts, Anthony seemed quite happy for his mother, but that did not make things less strange for him. Aziraphale would have to ask how he was feeling the next time they got a moment together.

That would not be a chance he would have anytime soon, however. Just as they were settling in, a knock came at the door. Aziraphale’s breath caught in his throat. It was likely someone from the church and he wasn’t all together certain he wanted to see them. Whether they were coming to berate him or to get a bit of gossip, that wasn’t how he wanted to spend his Christmas.

Maddy decided she should be the one to answer the door.

“Marjory! James! Merry Christmas. Do you two want to come in?” Mug still in hand, Aziraphale stood up and hurried to the door, Anthony right behind him. There was no reason to hide from the Holmeses.

“Oh, we just wanted to stop by before heading out. We’re staying at our son’s house for the next week. He thinks I should rest and let him take care of his father for a while. The doctor said it should be alright to travel now, so long as James actually uses the chair.” She glanced down at her husband. “He keeps trying to use the crutches too soon.”

“I was just testing,” James insisted. “And I’m using the chair now, aren’t I?”

He was and it made Aziraphale realize just how inaccessible the Clarks’ house was. It would not be easy to get those wheels up the stoop.

“Anyway, we just wanted to say ‘Merry Christmas’ and tell you not to worry too much about your father. There’s going to be a stink from some members of the congregation, but there won’t be many of them. Edith, James and I have been working on people for the last few years, and I know there’s more of them now who’ll be happy to see the pastor doing right by you then will open their mouths to complain. At the very least, I don’t think many people will leave the church over it. And those that do, good riddance! They clearly aren’t listening to the message anyway!”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come inside?” Aziraphale asked.

“We can carry you in like an old timey king or something,” Anthony added. Clearly he’d noticed the stair issue too.

James laughed. Aziraphale was not sure he would have taken the suggestion so well if had come from anyone else. “What do you say, Marge? You want to have a cup of coffee before we hit the road?”

She agreed and the Holmeses stayed for not one, but for two cups. The sermon had put them in mind of memories and they started telling every story they could remember of Anthony and Aziraphale scampering around the church in the old days. Or at least, Anthony had been scampering. Aziraphale had always carried himself like a gentleman.

The Clarks returned before they were gone, and were pulled into the old stories themselves. It was comfortable, although Elijah kept shooting worried glances in Aziraphale’s direction. Eventually, however, Edith had to excuse herself to work on dinner and Maddy suggested that the Holmes’ son would worry if they left any later.

“Tony and I will see you off,” she told them, and she gestured for Anthony to come along and help her get James back down the stairs.

It was only belatedly that Aziraphale recognized this as a tactic to leave him alone in the living room with Elijah. The room, so recently full of loud voices and excitement, now fell quieter than a tomb. They both nearly jumped when the tinny sound of Edith’s old Christmas tapes began in the kitchen. It prompted Elijah to finally speak.

“So, uh, buddy. I… I hope I didn’t make you too uncomfortable today. I just… I felt there were things I should have said to the congregation, probably ages ago. I know it’s been bothering you that I never seem fully on your side. I wanted you to see that that wasn’t going to be true anymore.” Elijah could hardly look at him. He looked like a shamed man at confession.

“No. It was… wonderful, really. It meant a lot to see you put yourself on the line like that, just to tell the world you cared about me. And it meant even more to hear you actually praise my relationship with Anthony, beyond simply accepting or merely tolerating it. It’s nice to be more than tolerated.”

Now Elijah did look up at him. There was something in his eyes that Aziraphale had seen before, when he’d started a new school or met some major accomplishment. It was that sad look of parental pride that could see both a bright future and a past that could never return. “I meant it. Every word. I meant it. I’ve never seen a truer love or friendship than what I’ve seen from you and Tony, and that doesn’t change just because the relationship has.”

Aziraphale could feel his eyes watering again behind his glasses. He wished he could have heard that this past summer. He wished he could have heard that hundreds of years ago. “Thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for,” said Elijah. “I didn’t do anything I shouldn’t have done a long time ago.”

He stood up, and went to give Aziraphale a hug. Aziraphale was still seated, and it almost felt the way things had when he had been small and he’d had to look up to see Elijah properly. Then Elijah mussed his hair and Aziraphale frowned at him. “Father, I’m twenty-five, do you really still have to do that?”

“I can stop if you want me to,” said Elijah.

Aziraphale thought this over for a moment and simply said, “We really ought to go help Mother in the kitchen.”

“That’s not a Baked Alaska,” said Tony, “Your mom said you were working on the dessert.”

“I am, there’s just been a change of plans,” Ezra told him. He did not speak any further, pausing to instead consult the recipe. Then he cracked an egg and added it to the bowl of whatever he was working on. “I thought you were playing those games again with Maddy and my father?”

“We were, but Mom just got the text from Xave so she had to go. Plus, once Edith came in to join us, it felt like we were leaving her out.” Tony looked around the room. It had been cleaned multiple times today. The non-chefs in the family had been in and out, washing, drying, and wiping down surfaces—they were still losing the battle. The house smelled good though. “So, what’s baking now?”

“There’s a ham in the bottom oven and the rolls Mother made just came out of the top. Just now I put in the crust for cheese cake, but that’s only in for five minutes before I add this to it.” A bell dinged and Ezra smiled. “Ah, there we are! Could you get that out of the oven, darling?”

Tony had never had any interest in baking. He wasn’t much of a cook either, but he understood the appeal there. You could play around with tastes and ingredients when you were cooking, if you did that too much with baking you’d ruin the chemistry. Still, he didn’t mind playing back up for Ezra, who was clearly enjoying himself despite the rules. But then, he’d been the sort of kid who followed the instructions on Lego sets.

As he watched Ezra carefully layering crust, batter, and bits of toffee, Tony asked, “So why did you ditch the Baked Alaska?”

“I’m sorry, dear, I’d forgotten it was your suggestion. Were you looking forward to it?”

“I mean, not especially, not taste wise anyway. I was mostly interested in the fire, to be honest.”

Ezra gave him a look that was supposed to be exasperated but came out fond. “Unfortunately, the fire was the problem. To properly flambé a Baked Alaska, it must be drenched in rum. That’s what you take a match to; the whole thing goes up in flame while the alcohol burns off. There’s no alcohol by the time the show is over, but it still seemed a bit insensitive to pull out a bottle of rum and dump it all over the food of two people who’ve previously struggled with substance use. If it was just your mother, I’d have asked after her comfort level, but I don’t know Xave yet and it seemed an inhospitable way to make his acquaintance. He matters to you and I want him to like me.”

“He’ll like you,” said Tony quietly. Now that it was properly assembled, it was time for the cake to go into the oven. Tony was going to enjoy the show of Ezra bending over to put it in before he took the conversation any further. “He’s pretty chill, honestly, a bit sarcastic, kind of dead pan. I don’t think there’ll be any problems with you two. Kind of interested to see him with your parents though.”

“My parents? Why?” Ezra was back at the mixing bowls, apparently there was something else to make and more dishes to dirty.

“I don’t know. Your dad spent the 80s getting a degree at seminary school and Pops spent it in a hair metal band. They’ve got very different vibes.”

Ezra had stopped in his work to look at Tony closely. It felt like he was under a microscope. “Are you comfortable with all this? With your mother dating him? We haven’t really talked about it much.”

Tony’s first reaction was to shrug this off, but Ezra looked worried. Besides, if he’d thought Ezra was underselling something emotional, he knew he would never have let it go. “I don’t know. It’s weird. Like, it’s really weird. But not bad weird. I really like Pops, I trust him. I trust that he’ll be good to Mom and I want her to have that. But, it still feels like different parts of my life are crashing together, you know?”

Ezra hummed his understanding. “If we need to step out together at any point this evening, you just tell me.”

“What, like with a code word or something?”

“If you’d like. Or you could just ask if I’d like to drive around town and look at the Christmas lights, or pretend there’s something you need back at your house.” He raised an eyebrow at Tony, “But I suppose a code word would be another perfectly normal way to figure that out.”

“Who cares if it’s normal; Code words are fun,” Tony told him, leaning against the counter. “I’ll say something like ‘pie tin’ and then you’ll have to come up with an excuse to leave.”

“’Pie tin’. I suppose it would be fun to watch you casually work that into conversation. And then I’ll have to come up with some cockamamie reason for us to escape.” Ezra clucked disapprovingly as he began rooting through the drawers for a pair of spoons. He dipped them both into his latest mixture and offered one to Tony. “This is the topping. It gets added on before the last five minutes of baking. What do you think?”

Tony did not take the spoon. Instead, he took the hand that held it, and brought that up to his mouth before making a show of licking the topping off. Ezra’s cheeks went pink, but his eyes spoke of lust rather than embarrassment. Finished, Tony grinned at him wickedly. “I don’t think anyone’s going to be surprised if we try to sneak off together at some point.”

“No,” Ezra said, swallowing heavily. “Probably not.”

“So… you want help cleaning up?”

“That is not remotely close to the top of the list of things I want right now,” said Ezra, “but I suppose it would be helpful.”

Tony’s grin widened. “I mean if you’ve got other ideas…”

“Not ones that I’m willing to put into action with my parents in the living room. Well, other than this.” He gave Tony a quick kiss and then handed him both spoons. “Be a dear and put those in the dishwasher, would you?”

Much to Tony’s disappointment, they spent the next ten minutes washing and drying and putting things away, rather than with one of them pinned up against the refrigerator. Just as they were putting the last few ingredients away in the cupboard, Tony heard the sound of car doors slamming in the church parking lot.

“Oh!” said Ezra excitedly. “That must be them.”

He pulled off his apron, tossed it over the back of a chair, and hurried from the room with Tony just behind him. The Clarks were already up, hovering near the front door and trying not to look too curious.

“You know, she’s probably not going to knock. She’s just going to come in with him and we’re all just going to be standing here,” Tony pointed out.

The Clarks, and Ezra, quickly moved to the furniture and tried to look normal there. Tony rolled his eyes and went to perch on the arm of the couch where he could lean over Ezra’s shoulder and try to follow along with the book he was pretending to read.

The front door opened and the whole room jumped. They could see Xave now, through the glass of the foyer door, helping Maddy to hang up her coat. That was good. It would win him points with Edith.

And then Maddy was pushing open the foyer door and Tony’s entire universe collapsed in on itself. Xave had visited the Jays’ house on a few prier occasions, but somehow that had felt less odd than having him here. The Jays had only lived in their home starting in Tony’s high school years, but the Clarks’ house had seen him as a little child. He’d lived here when he’d lost his first tooth, had been just over in the church when he’d realized his first crush. He’d worn Goosebumps pajamas in this very room and now his band mate, his mentor, the man who had opened the door to employment and adulthood and self-sufficiency was standing there in the middle of it.

Xave looked out of place, but less out of place than he should have. He was more dressed up than Tony normally saw him, in a full suit—no tie, and with his beard freshly trimmed. Only his hair, the graying mane of carefully cultivated natural curls, gave any hint that he’d once been in a band back in the 80s. Well, that and the guitar case slung over his back.

Normally, he carried himself with a general air of seen-it-all coolness, but that was missing now. He was in unfamiliar territory, meeting the family of people he cared about, and he had not seen Tony face to face since he’d started dating Maddy. It was no wonder he looked a little nervous.

Tony decided to spare him from the silence. “Merry Christmas, Pops. How was the trip?”

“Tony! Hey. It was great, emptiest train I’ve ever been on. How you doing?” There was a slight strain to the way he asked that made the question seem real rather than a formality. He still seemed worried that Tony would be angry with him.

“ ‘m fine.” He turned to his mother. “You want to do the introductions, or should I?”

Maddy looked around at the group then up at Xave. “You take it, kiddo.”

With this, Tony got down from his perch and gestured for everyone else to follow so they could do this properly. He started with Edith, saying her name and encouraging her forward.

Xave smiled at her as they shook hands. “You’re a music teacher, right?”

“Yes,” said Edith, simply beaming at him. “You are too, right? Maddy told me you teach classes at some of the colleges in New York. She told me all about you.”

Xave glanced nervously in Maddy’s direction, perhaps wondering what else had been said. Tony moved the interaction along. “This is Elijah.”

Elijah stepped forward, hand out, in church greeting mode. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“You’re the pastor, right?” Now his eyes darted toward Tony. No one had taken the time to tell Elijah all about Xave, but Xave had certainly heard about Elijah. He’d inspired at least one frustrated song on their first album. Xave kept this to himself. “It’s good to meet you, Reverend.”

With one hardy hand shake, Elijah moved out of the way so that Ezra could step forward. If Xave had heard a great deal about Elijah, it paled in comparison to what he’d heard of Ezra. Xave did not wait for Tony to say anything. “So, you’ve got to be Ezra then?”

“That would be me, yes. It’s truly wonderful to meet you. Anthony doesn’t look up to a great many people.”

Xave raised an eyebrow at Tony, “You look up to me, huh?”

“That can be revoked at any time,” Tony assured him.

“Good to know.” Xave turned back to Ezra. “Well, it’s amazing to finally meet the guy that the kid is so head over heels for. You’ve basically inspired my entire current music career.”

“Well, I, er… I’m not terribly interesting. Not exactly ‘rock and roll’ as it were. I hope I don’t disappoint you, Mr. Franklin. Or would that be professor?”

Xave stared at him for a moment, as though a story had stepped into reality. “The not ‘rock and roll’ is exactly what makes you interesting. And you can just call me Xave. Or, if you’d like, you can call me Xavier if that makes you feel better.”

“Oh, I think Xavier would be splendid. I’ll do just that.”

“So,” said Maddy, finally stepping forward from where she’d been hovering nervously by Xave’s elbow, “Now that that’s all out of the way, could we maybe move further into the room and actually sit down?”

With waning awkwardness, the group moved to sit by the fire. Tony and Ezra, without any discussion, settled themselves on the floor. There were not enough seats left to go around, and it was best to leave them for people old enough to complain about their backs.

Conversation began awkwardly enough, with small talk about traveling and Christmas traditions, but Tony found he didn’t really feel awkward at all. He had expected to squirm inwardly, at the sight of his mother and his mentor holding hands and squeezing close. He didn’t feel that way at all.

He had never seen his mother look at a man like that. It was beyond the giggly school girl reaction she’d had when they first met. A touch of that was still there, whenever Xave smiled at her, but it was deeper now. There was something more there. And, beyond all that, Tony had never seen a man look at his mother that way. When she laughed, Xave gazed at her like that sound was everything in the world.

Far from wishing this moment would end, Tony wanted to keep it alive. He wanted his mother to be admired like that for every day for the rest of her life, or at the very least on every Christmas. She deserved to have someone look at her the way Tony looked at Ezra, and for once she was finally getting it.

When a timer went off in the kitchen and Ezra asked, “Dear, would you help me with the, er, pie tins?” Tony was almost reluctant to follow him.

Safe in the other room, Ezra turned and took Tony’s hands. “Are you doing alright, darling?”

“Totally fine, angel. I’m actually… I’m actually fucking happy for them. Which is good, because you just burned our code word instead of just actually asking me to help you with the very real cheese cake.”

“I thought we could develop another code word, if we needed to.” Seeing that Tony was far from distressed, Ezra left him to get the cake out of the oven and finally pour on the topping they’d been flirting over before. He slid the cake back into the oven, set the timer for another few minutes, and turned back to Tony. “I like him! I think my parents do too. Although, I think my father might be trying a bit hard to impress him. He told that story about the Christian rock concert very early and without much prompting.”

“It’s sad that your dad thinks a Christian rock concert is going to make him seem cool… I think you’re right though. It’s weird, but I really haven’t seen your dad interact with a ton of adult men, when he’s not doing pastor stuff. He’s kind of desperate to please.”

Ezra leaned against the counter and sighed. “That makes sense, when I think about it. He was always very concerned about my fitting in, back in my school days. I imagine he had to work at it when he was a boy. Had to do the sorts of things he thought other lads would approve of. He’s really rather a… gentle, sympathetic man beneath it all. I suppose that’s something he tried to bury and nearly destroyed in the process.”

“Shit,” said Tony. “That got deep fast.”

“Well, I don’t suppose there’s much to worry about with him trying to impress Xavier, either way.”

“You say that, but if this ends with your dad trying to play Christian rock on a guitar, I’m going to need another code word to get out of here.”

Five minutes later, when it was time for the cake to come out of the oven and cool, Tony and Ezra returned to the living room. Tony stopped, mouth agape with horror, when he realized what had happened in his absence.

The photo album that his mother had given to Ezra was out and Xave was looking at it.

“Mom!”

Maddy turned to him. “What?”

“Seriously? Baby pictures?”

Maddy looked down at the book in her lap. “They’re not baby pictures. You’re at least five in all of them. It’s not like there are bath tub shots or anything. How is this embarrassing?”

Tony loomed over the couch so that he could get a glimpse of the picture they were currently looking at. It was just he and Ezra sitting at a piano bench while Tony showed off what he’d recently learned. It really wasn’t that bad.

“I guess it’s alright… Just seems like if you’re the one bringing someone around we should be looking at old pictures of you.”

“We were, partly,” said Xave. He flipped to the next page and found a photo of Tony sitting in his mother’s lap. His hands were raised above his head, monster like, as he told what must have been some wild story to Ezra who sat next to them both. Tony did not think of his mother as old. She wasn’t really. She’d only been a little older than he was now when she’d had him. Still, it was odd to look at her in an old photograph and realize just how much she’d changed too. She’d only been around thirty there. Xave pointed, “The short hair was a cute look. Very 90s. Also, it looks like your son was crazy.”

“I was just happy to see him talking like that… This wasn’t taken that long after I got custody back, and he was so much more animated and cheerful than he’d been before.” She looked up to grin at Ezra, who was now standing beside Tony behind the couch. “He was always trying to make Ezra smile.”

“He always has and he still does,” said Ezra, and he planted a kiss on Tony’s cheek. This was the least ‘rock and roll’ evening that Tony had ever spent in Xave’s presence. But Xave was not paying any attention to the nauseating sweetness going on behind him. He was too busy backpedaling and trying to apologize for making light of the performing little Tony in the picture. He did not seem particularly ‘rock and roll’ either.

It wasn’t long before a timer went off and Edith announced it was time for dinner. Tony had had nothing to eat for hours, outside of sexual batter testing, and he was eager to sit down to the meal. There was ham, homemade rolls, mashed potatoes, asparagus, and some fancy little meat pie that Ezra had made. All of it was delicious, all of it was warm. All of it was like nothing he’d had in years.

The past two Christmases had been spent on the road, eating whatever take out they could manage while trading presents around the van. Before that, for a while, it had just been he and his mother. Neither of them had much skill in the kitchen. They’d made do with premade stuff, warmed in the oven. It had done the job, but just the two of them had never felt like much of a holiday. This table, however, with the people he cared about around it, with his mother and his mentor and his angel, and hell, even the Clarks… this felt like Christmas.

When the food was gone, when even the plates of cheesecake were empty, they all moved back to the living room once more. It wasn’t yet 8:00 and there was still an evening of comfort to fill. Out came the Clarks’ collection of board games. Tonight there was no debating over partners. They all lined up just perfectly, Maddy at last with someone she wanted to play with. Still, Tony and Ezra won most of the games.

By 9:30 they were yawning. It had been an early morning for all of them, even those who tended towards nocturnal. They did not have enough brain cells left for games, not even mindless ones, but no one was ready for the night to end.

The cheesecake made a reappearance, in the form of a single giant slice that all of them could pick at. They sat around, making vague suggestions about what they ought to do next, without putting any effort into actually doing them.

“We could walk around the neighborhood and look at all the neighbors’ lights?” said Edith.

Ezra raised an eyebrow at her, “You’re wearing slippers mother, do you really want to go outside?”

Edith looked down at her feet, around at the warm room and said, “No, I really don’t.”

“In that case,” said Ezra, “We could just take the Trivial Pursuit game out and do the cards without playing the game?”

Elijah laughed. “You’ve already destroyed us enough, buddy.”

“I know!” said Maddy, waving her fork excitedly. “Tony used to play carols for us before bed, remember? Xave you brought your guitar, you two could play together.”

Tony and Xave looked at one another. Neither one of them had any intention of disappointing her. They nodded.

Out came the guitars. In Prometheus, Xave was the bassist and Tony played second guitar or keyboard, depending on the song. Tonight, however, they both played acoustic, messing around until they found something that worked together.

They played the usual classics, singing along together, harmonizing when the mood took them. They’d only known each other for a little over two years, but they’d lived and worked together in that time. They knew their sound.

“Oh, Anthony. I’ve a suggestion!” said Ezra as ‘White Christmas’ came to an end. Tony looked at him. “That song you had me listen to. ‘The Little Drummer Boy’ with that other song. The one with Bing Crosby and that newer fellow.”

“David Bowie.”

“I think so. Could you two do that one? It’s already a duet.”

“Sure,” said Tony. “You know it, right Pops?”

“I think so but wait, ‘newer fellow’? Bowie got big in the 70s. Weren’t you two born in the 80s?”

“First,” said Tony, “Ezra was born in the 80s. I was born in the 90s and you’re old. Second, Ezra’s just like that.”

“And the 70s are more recent than the 30s,” Ezra protested weakly.

“Can’t argue with that,” said Xave. “Alright then, kid. You take the high part and I take the low.”

And so they sang, and their small audience applauded when they were through. It was nearing eleven now, and the yawning was becoming contagious. Much as they all wanted to stay up, they would not be able to. The Clarks in particular looked like they ought to be in their pajamas.

“We should probably head out,” Maddy said, ending things at last. “If we leave any later, I might pass out behind the wheel.”

She stood, and Xave stood with her, his guitar slung over his shoulder once more. “You coming with us, kid?”

Tony shook his head, “I’m staying with Ezra. I’ll see you tomorrow though, if you’re still hanging around when I get back.”

“And you’re alright if… I’m still hanging around when you get back?” Xave asked, suddenly nervous again.

“Yeah. I’m expecting it,” said Tony and he gave Xave half a smile as his mark of approval.

There were goodbyes and Merry Christmases all around and then, when Maddy and Xave had driven off together, there were goodnights to share too. The house was a bit of a mess, but the cleaning could keep until morning. All any of them wanted was pajamas and sleep.

When they were alone, at last, in Ezra’s room, curled up together in the darkness. Ezra said, “Of all the ones I’ve ever had, I think that was my favorite Christmas.”

And Tony, his head resting on Ezra’s shoulder, his stomach full, his mother happy, could not help but agree.

Chapter Text

“Are you sure you’ve packed everything?” Maddy asked. She was currently leaning in the doorframe to the kitchen, watching as Tony passed by with his backpack and acoustic guitar. It was not the first load she’d seem him bring out to the car. He’d already come down from his room with an oversized duffle bag that he’d used during the last tour.

“We’re only going for three days,” Tony reminded her.

“In that case, are you sure you aren’t bringing too much?”

He rolled his eyes at her and didn’t answer, heading instead toward the front door and out to the Mercedes. The backpack, which he shoved into the trunk, was currently full of all the supplies he and Ezra had purchased on the hopeful night when they’d gone to the grocery store. He knew his mother would only approve of the forethought, but he couldn’t help but want to hide the evidence. There were certain things he really didn’t want to discuss with her.

The guitar went safely into the backseat, where Tony could keep an eye on it while they drove. He was relatively certain that was everything, but it wouldn’t hurt to give the house one last look over. That and he needed to say goodbye to his mother.

When he stepped back into the house, Maddy was still dithering between kitchen and living room. Her fingers kept curling around the locket Ezra had given her, the one with the little picture of a tiny Tony inside it.

“Mom, can you please not be weird about this?” Tony asked.

She laughed and went to hug him. “I won’t. It just sort of blows my mind that you’re old enough to rent a vacation house. I mean, hell, I’ve never rented a vacation house. I’ve been to ones the Clarks rented, but I’ve never done that myself. How are you all grown up?”

Tony blinked. “Oh. I didn’t think it was the house renting you were worrying about…”

“Well, it’s bizarre to think of you being old enough to have a romantic getaway too, but I wasn’t going to say that, since you asked me not to be weird.” She smiled awkwardly at him. “Have you and Ezra planned ahead and bought—”

“Mom!”

“—groceries. You know you have to stock the fridge at rental places, right?” Her tone implied that actually was what she’d been planning to say. Tony mentally kicked himself.

“Ezra’s in charge of food. He figured I’d just show up with chips and soda and instant noodles, so he told me not to worry about it.”

“He’s probably right. I did not instill you with the best food habits.”

“Eh,” said Tony, “I’m not dead.”

“Keep it that way,” said his mother, and she tugged his arm so that he’d bend over and let her kiss him on the forehead. “Have fun—no, that’s weird. Enjoy yourse—nope. Be good to each other and forget about the rest of the world for a while. How’s that for a sendoff?”

“That works,” said Tony. “Love you, Mom.”

“Love you, kiddo,” said Maddy, and she waved him out the door.

Aziraphale was pacing. He hadn’t been, for most of the morning. There had been things to do then, bags to pack and groceries to acquire. The problem was that he’d finished all that. He’d even got everything lined up by the door, ready to be put in the car the moment Anthony pulled up.

He was not supposed to pull up for another fifteen minutes.

There was no reason for Aziraphale to be nervous; not a one in the entire world. All they were doing was spending a lovely little weekend away together. It would be pleasant, relaxing, pleasurable. There was nothing to be afraid of.

The Clarks were watching him. They probably hadn’t intended to. Edith had simply sat down to start a new knitting project, Elijah simply wanted to read, but Aziraphale kept pacing back and forth. First he would look out the window by the door, then around to the side to look out at the parking lot. Still no Anthony, so he’d head back to the door.

Finally Edith put down her knitting. “Ezra, is everything okay?”

“Never been better,” Aziraphale told her. “Tickety-boo.”

The Clarks made meaningful eye contact and clearly decided on something. Edith stood up, put all her needles and yarn and instructions back in their little bag, and went over to hug him. “Love you, honey. I’ll see you when you get back.”

Then she disappeared upstairs. For a moment, Aziraphale wondered if his agitation had been getting to her, to the point that she’d had to leave the room or absolutely lose her mind. Elijah, however, was still there, his book now closed. At once he knew what their silent conversation had decided. ‘Ezra’ might be twenty-five, but this was a parenting moment and they’d agreed Elijah should handle it.

He patted the cushion beside him on the couch. “Sit down for a second, buddy. Tony will get here. You don’t need to worry about that.”

Aziraphale briefly considered fleeing, by pretending that he’d seen the Mercedes pull up and going to wait outside. If he hadn’t had luggage he might have tried it. As it was he could think of no excuse and simply plopped himself down beside Elijah.

“So, what’s got you so anxious?” Elijah asked.

“Nothing,” said Aziraphale quickly. This was feeling dangerously close to the horrible ‘talk’ they’d had on Aziraphale’s first day of high school. He had lived for 6,000 years and that still took the award for the most uncomfortable conversation he’d ever had.

“Buddy… You can tell me. I promise not to be judgmental.” He said this last bit as much to himself as to Aziraphale.

With a sigh Aziraphale said, “I’d rather thought you’d all guessed the general gist of things. That you’d all figured out the, er, intentions for this trip. Can’t you reason out the rest from that?”

Elijah had become quite red in the face, which only seemed fair as Aziraphale had too. “Have you too not… been intimate before?”

Aziraphale shook his head.

Elijah frowned, thoughtful, trying to puzzle Aziraphale out. “Have you not been intimate with anyone before?”

This was fast starting to rival that horrible conversation from a decade prior. Still, Aziraphale shook his head. Elijah’s expression softened, although his features were still all flushed. He looked at the floor. “I don’t know why I assumed otherwise. You’ve always been slow and deliberate when it comes to your relations with other people. I shouldn’t have thought that… uh, romance would be any different.”

“Well,” said Aziraphale also staring at the floor, “You can see why I’m such a mess now. I’ve had too much time to worry.”

“You’re not a mess,” Elijah assured him. “It’s perfectly normal to be nervous, especially if you’ve waited longer than most people.”

He had no idea.

“I’ll spare you any details, but you know your mother and I waited until we were married. We were nervous when it finally came time to… you know.”

“I really don’t need to hear more.”

Elijah laughed, uncomfortable. “I wasn’t going to say more, not about that specifically. But I feel like, as your dad, talking with you about this stuff is part of my job. You know man to man.”

Aziraphale finally looked at him, if only to raise an eyebrow. “I don’t think you know any details that would be particularly helpful in this case. It’s not exactly the same experience.”

“Right,” said Elijah. “But, let me try and give you some advice anyway.”

Aziraphale looked at him, waiting in misery for whatever he intended to say.

Elijah took a deep breath. “You love each other and you trust each other, so just be open and honest. If you’re uncomfortable, tell him. If you, uh, like something, tell him. Whatever happens, remember, it’s just Tony and he loves you.”

“Oh,” said Aziraphale and he blinked. “That was actually rather good advice.”

“I’ve struck out often enough. I was due for a homerun,” said Elijah, taking shelter in sports analogies. There was the sound of tires slowing to a crawl in the parking lot outside and they both looked up. Elijah stood and offered a hand to help Aziraphale to his feet. “Have a good trip. And don’t worry.”

Anthony was at home in the driver’s seat. He’d turned the radio on, not long after they’d merged onto the interstate, and rejoiced in the fact that it was finally free of Christmas tunes. Aziraphale could take or leave the music. He’d encouraged Anthony to put on what he wanted, and was unsurprised when they’d wound up listening to classic rock. Aziraphale did not regret giving Anthony his way, however, because it made watching him all the more enjoyable.

He was gorgeous, bathed in the winter sunshine, leaning back in his seat, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel. Every so often a song would come on that he particularly enjoyed and he’d be unable to stop himself from humming and eventually singing along. He was perfectly comfortable and relaxation suited him.

It was hard to remember to be anxious when Anthony looked like that.

“You alright, angel? You’re quiet.”

“Mmm?” asked Aziraphale, shaken from his revery, “Would you believe me if I said I was admiring you?”

Anthony turned a stunning shade of red, before regaining his cool and flashing Aziraphale a grin. “Not hard to believe at all.”

“You’re a vain creature,” Aziraphale informed him. “And you know it too. Looking for flattery and then preening when it’s given to you.”

“Woah, hey, I was not looking for flattery. I just asked if you were alright. I thought you were zoned out and worrying. I didn’t know you were checking me out. You volunteered that information all on your own.”

“I was merely teasing,” Aziraphale assured him. Then he sighed. He ought to tell the whole truth. “You’re not entirely wrong, however, about me worrying a little. That’s part of why I’ve been quiet, although I was just ‘checking you out’. That part was true.”

Anthony adjusted himself in his seat. He no longer sat, languid and comfortable. Now he sat up, a sudden sobriety settling over his features. “Look, angel. You don’t have to worry. I’m not—I’m not assuming anything about how the weekend is going to go. I figure privacy will give us a chance to, you know, go as far as we want without stopping because of outside forces. But, we’ll only go as far as you’re comfortable with.”

“I know,” said Aziraphale.

“And, like, we did talk before but, if you’ve changed your mind on anything, that’s fine. I know you start thinking about things and you make yourself anxious, but that’s fine. You don’t have to agree to anything on my account.”

“I know,” said Aziraphale.

“So, we can just take things as they come. Just do whatever. And if whatever turns out to be sitting in front of the fire and walking on the beach for three days then—”

“Anthony,” Aziraphale said firmly, “I know.”

At last, Anthony grew quiet, no longer letting his own anxieties spill out in an endless stream of words. Aziraphale would have reached out to hug him, if he hadn’t been driving. “The truth is, just as you said, I have been making myself nervous. I overthink things; we’re both well aware of that. But I’ve been, well, only half of my over thinking has driven me to nerves. The other half has driven me to reach for lotion and tissues in the middle of the night.”

Anthony snorted and turned red to his ears, amused and flustered at once.

“I am very much looking forward to having time alone with you. I’ve been thinking about finally seeing the rest of that tattoo on your hip more than anything. But I’m going to be nervous too. That’s just who I am. But it doesn’t mean that I’m not interested or that I don’t want to. And it is a help to know how patient you can be.”

“Whatever you need, angel,” said Anthony. He was quite adorably flushed now, and Aziraphale could not help but to reach out and gently stroke his hair as he drove.

He also couldn’t help but see if he could make Anthony even more flustered. “Ideally we’ll see that your needs are met too.”

The car swerved slightly, without leaving the lane, and Anthony said in a strained voice, “Christ, angel, do you want us both to die virgins?”

Aziraphale burst out laughing, which seemed to please Anthony. The nerves and discomfort dissipated in that moment and for the rest of the drive they chatted easily about music and books and anything else that came to mind, so long as it didn’t make Anthony go flying off the highway.

The ease of conversation was helped by the ease of the drive. It was a straight shot, up i-95 from Westwich to the little beach town where they were headed and they’d left the most populated area of Connecticut behind them. It was not a terribly long drive either, just a couple of hours. In their childhood days it might have felt miserable, but they were both quite well traveled now. Aziraphale was used to international flights and Anthony to life on the road. This was nothing but a pleasant jaunt to either of them.

In fact, Aziraphale was nearly caught off guard when they finally reached their destination. The little town felt as though it had snuck up on them. All at once, Anthony’s phone was announcing, in an English accent, that they should take the next exit off.

“Can my new phone do that too?” Aziraphale asked.

“Yeah. I can show you on the way back. There’s a built in app, or you can download other ones if you’d like something different.”

The English robot told them to take a left.

“Does it always sound like that?”

“Nah, you can choose from a bunch of different voices. I just like that one.”

Aziraphale watched for any sign of self-awareness in Anthony. There was none. Accordingly, Aziraphale waited until they reached the next stoplight before saying, “You like being given direction by men with English accents. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You think you’re real clever, don’t you?” said Anthony, after spluttering for a moment.

Aziraphale grinned at him. “I do have a rather high opinion of my own intelligence.”

“Well, we’re moving again, so keep it to yourself,” Anthony warned him.

Aziraphale turned his attention back outside. They were in a pretty, little New England town. It was a postcard sort of place, dotted with picturesque homes complete with gardens that were undoubtedly beautiful at other times of year. Even now, if there had only been a coating of snow, the place would have looked practically perfect.

“The hydrangeas must be beautiful in the summer,” Aziraphale said, with a contented sigh. “There’s always something a little… nostaligic? No, I don’t think that’s the right word, but I can’t think of a better one. There’s a touch of ennui to summer communities in the winter. They’re asleep in a way that other places never are. It’s like the town itself is dreaming of the days when the world will be warm again. They’re peaceful though, too. Thoughtful.”

“When we review the house online, I’m going to have you write it,” said Anthony. Then, mimicking Aziraphale’s voice he added, “8 out 10, excellent introspection with a touch too much ennui.”

In its own English accent, the phone told them to turn off down a smaller road, which wound its way through pleasant little neighborhoods before bringing them to their own little cabin by the water. It sat there, right on the edge of the beach, framed by flickering waves. Aziraphale squeezed Anthony’s shoulder, “Oh, it’s precious!”

“That’s a nice way of saying ‘small’,” said Anthony as he pulled the car into the cabin’s cobblestone driveway, the little rocks popping and shifting beneath the weight of the tires.

There were bags to bring in, of course, but they could wait a moment. As soon as they were out of the car, Aziraphale took Anthony by the hand and led him down toward the beach, stopping just short of stepping on the sand. It was cold there, with the wind moving over the water, but was beautiful just the same.

Aziraphale pulled Anthony in for a kiss. “Thank you for my Christmas present.”

“I rented the house, not the water.”

“You rented the view,” Aziraphale corrected. Then he raised an eyebrow, studying Anthony’s face. “That, and I think if the whole ocean had been available for rent you would have tried to get it for me, just the same.”

This accusation of a high romance unsettled Anthony as much as the earlier innuendo had. He scoffed and turned back toward the house. “We should make sure we can get inside.”

Outside the front door was a little code locked box. Anthony checked something on his phone and then punched in a few numbers, to open the box and reveal a key. Looking exceedingly pleased with himself, he opened the door and led Aziraphale inside.

It was an oddly laid out little house, built as it was on the slope down toward the water. They entered on the top floor, stepping into an open room that was kitchen, living, and dining room all at once. The furniture had all been well placed, to take advantage of the large windows out to a deck by the water. It was a wonderful view, straight out across the inlet and Aziraphale could not help but be drawn to the sight.

Anthony was more interested in exploring. “Come on, let’s see where everything is.”

There was nothing else on the current floor but a toilet of the sort that Americans called a ‘half-bath’ and a curling staircase leading down. They followed this to either the basement or the ground floor, depending on whether you were approaching from the road or the beach. There was another toilet down here, this with an actual place to shower and an office with a fold out couch for additional guests. There was also, of course, the bedroom. They entered it with a slow sort of reverence, then met each other’s eyes and laughed at themselves for being ridiculous.

It was a simple room, with little more in it then the bed and a chest of drawers. What it lacked in décor, it made up for with its view. A large, sliding glass door led out to a small patio just beside the beach, tucked under the house’s own porch. There were a few chairs there, and a portable metal firepit. The only word for it was cozy.

“You like it?” Anthony asked. He was pretending to be indifferent, but there was a touch of desperation in his voice. The poor dear was worried.

Aziraphale squeezed one of his hands. “I love it, darling.”

Ezra was cooking. There should not have been anything special about that; Ezra cooked all the time. But there had not been many occasions when Ezra had cooked for just the two of them alone. It had happened, a few times, when Tony had been visiting him in London, but this was even better. This time they had a house to themselves. It filled Tony’s brain with decidedly unwild fantasies of a domestic future. This could be their normal, someday. Just the two of them in a house for just the two of them. Ezra cooking dinner for just the two of them.

It was a more wonderful dream than all the albums and all the tours and all the audiences in the world.

But there was something else to Ezra cooking that was fulfilling a different sort of fantasy too. Tony had noticed, earlier, when they’d been unpacking the groceries, that Ezra had made decidedly healthy choices. It had surprised him, given that this was a holiday and his angel loved a good cheese, to see that he’d gone entirely for fruits, vegetables, and lean meats. When Tony had asked why, privately thinking that perhaps they could order something in, Ezra had turned pink. He’d coughed and gotten very serious before finally saying: “Well, I did a bit off additional research and, well, apparently there are some food choices that are better for, well, safer for well, for… Oh bother, for anal sex.”

Tony hadn’t even thought about that. He needed more gay friends.

But what really mattered was that Ezra had thought about it. His shopping was proof enough of that, yes, he was nervous, but he hadn’t been bluffing when he’d admitted to fantasizing too. Sometimes there were benefits to overthinking things.

Tony sat at the kitchen table, full of sweet adoration and growing lust, and watched as Ezra worked. He wondered what Ezra would do if Tony just walked up and squeezed his butt.

“Anthony?”

Tony jumped, like someone caught doing something bad, although he hadn’t even got out of his seat. “What?”

“Be a dear and set the table, would you? I think there are placemats over on top of the refrigerator and I believe the plates are in the corner cupboard.”

“On it,” said Tony. He did just as he was told, finding everything they’d need for their meal and even digging out a half used candle for ambience. Every time he passed by Ezra, he glanced down, but he ultimately decided to keep his hands to himself.

If he got his way there would be years ahead of him when he could reach out for a tweak. The same day he’d given a whole speech about going at Ezra’s speed was probably not the time to start.

They had decided on an early dinner that night. They’d both had lunch before the drive and it seemed far too long ago. The other advantage to eating early was that, even in the dark season of the year, it meant they could watch the sunset as they ate. The world outside was bathed in red, and the poor little candle that Tony had lit could not compete when it came to setting the mood.

“I’d like to live by the sea someday,” said Ezra as they watched the sky’s reflection in the water.

“I don’t think you’ve ever told me that.” Tony tried to remember, “Unless it was back when we were little.”

“I may have. I don’t know. It’s not something I think about a lot, but then I find myself somewhere like here, or Cape Cod, or in a little seaside village when I’ve traveled back in Britain, and it just fits.”

Tony’s mind was suddenly buzzing with plans, with ways to get the sort of money someone needed to live in a house by the sea. He’d write commercial jingles or ghost write pop songs for famous people, he’d-

He must have been making some odd expression, because Ezra was suddenly looking at him, bemused with a zucchini noodle hanging off his fork. “Anthony, dear, where did you just go? Mentally, I mean.”

“I was…” Ezra was going to tease him for this. “I was thinking about how to afford a house by the sea.”

It was worse than teasing. Ezra got all soft and gooey. “Oh, darling, I wasn’t asking for you to buy me a house. I said ‘someday’, didn’t I? I think perhaps that’s something to do when one retires. We’d be skipping a good few steps, if we were to worry about that now.”

That was true. Tony should probably live somewhere beside his mother’s house, a messy apartment with two roommates and a literal van before he started thinking about waterfront properties. Hell, he and Ezra should probably live on the same side of the ocean before he started worrying about waterfront properties.

Suddenly he found he wasn’t very hungry anymore.

Again, Ezra read him like a book. Before Tony had finished slowly putting down his fork, Ezra had reached out to hold his hand. “What’s wrong, darling?”

Tony looked up at him. He loved that face, the way the nose turned up, the way the eyes crinkled in the corner when he smiled, the little line between his brows when he was worried like he was now. He had gotten to see that face nearly every day for almost a month. In two weeks he’d be gone.

“I just remembered you’ve got to go soon,” said Tony.

“I’ve still got a week and a little bit left,” Ezra insisted. “And we did alright with long distance before.”

“I know. I’m not worried we’re going to break up or anything. It’s just… before, I had this to look forward to and now, I don’t know when we’ll see each other again. And there’s just all this stuff I haven’t let myself think about. I haven’t thought about how we’re going to make this work in the long term.”

Ezra was very quiet for a moment, his hand still holding Tony’s. It was not the silence of a man who had nothing to say, but rather that of a man thinking very carefully about his words. Eventually he said, “We’ll figure it out. Not immediately, but we’ll figure it out. We’re very young yet, Anthony. We shouldn’t be settled. No one expects us to know where we’ll be down the road, not seriously. We should think about it, of course, and we should talk about it some time. But, I’m confident we’ll work everything out, eventually. For now, though, let it be enough that we’re here together. It’s like I told you before, back in the church, I’m trying to learn to appreciate the moments I’m in when I’m in them. I’m not going to mourn your absence while I’m in your presence. We’ll throw ourselves back into the world with all its bumps and all its wonders soon enough. For the next few days, let it just be us.”

He was right. He usually was. So what if Tony didn’t know how exactly they’d end up married in their own little house by the sea, they were in a house by the sea now, together. That’s what mattered. Tony went back to his meal, all the while still holding on to Ezra’s hand.

When dinner was done and the dishes were washed, Tony asked if Ezra would like a walk along the beach.

He would have to thank his mother again for the coat. Ezra would never have agreed to go outside together if Tony hadn’t had it. The night was cold and the breeze off the water even colder, but it wasn’t so bad when they were bundled up and side by side. Gloved hand in gloved hand they walked together, snow boots sinking in uneven sand. High above them the stars sparkled in the darkness, as bright out here as the Christmas lights back in Westwich.

Ezra was right about summer towns in winter. There was something aching in the empty beauty of them. A small hotel that would have been full in the heat of August, sat dark and silent, looking out at the ocean, unaware of two small trespassers on its stretch of private beach. The world felt terribly big, grand in a way that made the two of them mean nothing, but it felt very small too—as though the world was just Ezra and Tony and a small bit of sand.

“The wind is getting worse,” Ezra noted, pulling in closer to Tony as they walked. “It’s starting to whip up the sand.”

“Yeah, we should probably turn back,” said Tony reluctantly.

The wind was at their faces on the return trip and so, when a particularly strong gust blew, Anthony pulled Ezra into a tight embrace to shield them both. It was warmer that way, with Ezra pressed close to him and, when the wind calmed, Ezra leaned in for a kiss. All the way back, Tony was grateful for every gust of wind and every kiss it brought him.

It was warm in the cabin when they reached it, but not so warm that a few logs in the fireplace couldn’t make things better. They took their time to freshen up and build a fire, then they sat together in the glow of the flame, pressed side by side.

On that other night, in his house back in Westwich, they had been very purposeful about starting things. Tony had thought tonight would be the same, it wasn’t. Snuggled close together by the fire, it was nothing more than natural to turn his face to Ezra’s, to pull him closer, until they were kissing, sweet and slow. The rest of the world had disappeared into the darkness beyond the firelight, leaving just the two of them. And that was all that Tony needed.

He had Ezra pressed up against him, Ezra to hold, Ezra to taste. The gentle, unhurried kisses with which they’d begun began to escalate. Tony wanted more, he wanted Ezra closer. He shifted, until he was straddling Ezra, bent over so that he could kiss at Ezra’s neck and struggle with the buttons of his shirt.

Ezra proved more adept with clothing, or else Tony’s shirt was simpler. It was up and over his head in a moment, and tossed carelessly across the room so that Tony was naked to the waist. Ezra pulled back, and for a moment Tony thought he was second guessing all of this.

But then Ezra said, “Let me look at you,” and raked his eyes over Tony’s chest with such obvious hunger that Tony shivered.

“ ‘Snot fair. I haven’t gotten yours off yet,” said Tony. He was whining slightly. He didn’t care.

Ezra met his eyes and began to undo his own shirt, his fingers far more talented with the buttons than Tony’s were. Then he too was bare to his waist and Tony could not keep his hands to himself. He ran his fingers through the golden hair on Ezra’s chest, aware all the while that Ezra was watching him. When he looked up again, Ezra lunged for his mouth, kissing Tony with more fierce passion than ever before. They were quite heated now, desperate for closeness, for friction.

It was only when they both needed to breathe, that they pulled apart. Ezra was panting and his voice was low when he said, “We should put the fire out.”

“The fire?” Tony asked. He wasn’t sure why anyone would ever care about the fire.

“If we’re going to go down to the bedroom, we should put the fire out,” said Ezra.

Tony grinned.

When Aziraphale awoke, the sun was up. They had never pulled the curtains shut on the glass door last night, and the light came shining in full and bright. Aziraphale would not have minded, if he’d woken as he intended to, with a naked Anthony in his arms. He’d had one when he’d fallen asleep, all lithe and warm and fresh from the shower. His Anthony had since disappeared somewhere.

Even in the pleasant haze of this particular morning, Aziraphale was nothing if not intelligent. He could put together clues easily enough. There was music and the smell of coffee drifting down from upstairs. That’s where Anthony would be.

He pulled himself from bed, finding that he ached in ways and places that he had not previously experienced. It was cold that morning, in no small part because Aziraphale was completely nude. He pulled his plush bathrobe and an old pair of slippers from the luggage before making his way upstairs.

One mug sat on the kitchen counter, a tea bag already waiting inside it. The water kettle was already full too, ready for Aziraphale to switch on the heat. He could see Anthony, sitting at the piano, his back toward Aziraphale in the kitchen. He was working, alternately scribbling in one of his notebooks and trying out melodies on the keys. Even from this angle it was wonderful to watch him. Aziraphale could see him thinking from just the way he moved, from the arch of his back to the sudden scratching of the pen. He was lost in a moment of creativity that Aziraphale supposed he’d helped to inspire.

He did not interrupt. He did not want to. He wanted to make his tea and watch from a distance as Anthony spun music out of the air. Silence worked until the kettle whistled and gave him away. Anthony turned to look at him, his face immediately becoming a goofy smile. “You’re up.”

“I am, and you’ve been up longer.” Ezra was relatively certain he was smiling like a fool too. “I’ll confess to being a little disappointed to find you weren’t in my arms this morning.”

“Inspiration struck,” Anthony said simply. Aziraphale was fine with this as an answer.

He poured his tea and brought it over to sit on the piano bench by Anthony’s side. “Am I inspiration?”

“You’re full of yourself is what you are,” Anthony told him. This was undercut by the other half of his greeting, which was a kiss. Aziraphale thought he might like those casual sorts of kisses most of all. Or maybe he just liked whichever he’d received most recently. Anthony kept talking, “You feeling alright this morning?”

“A little achy, but utterly free of regrets, if that’s what you’re asking. And you?” Aziraphale leaned against Anthony because he could.

“Same.” Then Aziraphale lost him again as he picked up another notebook and began to write in that.

It was only when he put that down that Aziraphale asked a question to satisfy his curiosity. “Two notebooks?”

“I’ve got two songs I’m working on.”

“Was I that good?” Aziraphale asked, unable to contain a mischievous look.

“Nope!” said Anthony and he laughed when Aziraphale swatted at him. “One of them is exactly what you’re thinking of. It’s all sex and romance and passion and everything. Here.”

He slid a notebook over to Aziraphale, who could read the lyrics easily but could hardly read the music. That he had explained to him. “I’m using the choral idea I had. It’s alternating between these romantic, almost religious sounding sections.” Anthony played a section. “But then comes in this part that’s pure rock and lust.” Anthony played this too.

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. “The lyrics are certainly descriptive…”

“Well, you wanted to be inspiration, didn’t you?” And Anthony gave him another kiss before taking back that notebook and handing Aziraphale another. “This one, I haven’t gotten as far with. You know, I was working on the other one before, it’s just the lyrics really came to me now. This one though, it’s new and it’s more… I was trying to capture how I felt last night before everything. When we were talking about the future and… and now… and everything. I’ve only just started though. There’s not much to look at.”

Aziraphale looked down at the page before him. The music here was simple enough for him to read, nothing more than a melody without all the instruments and counterpoint that Anthony had begun cramming into the other. Seeing something so early in its creation made Aziraphale look up in sudden realization. “You’ve never done this before.”

“Hmm?”

“You’ve never really let me look at anything in progress before. I mean, you barred me from listening to your first album for so long and this most recent one you’ve warned me off of. This is the first time you’ve let me look at anything you were making without trying to hide some aspect of it.”

He had seen Anthony last night, completely unclothed. He’d run his fingers along the tattoo on his hip, kissed it. He’d touched and tasted every bit of Anthony that he could reach and somehow, this felt like the greater act of vulnerability. He kissed Anthony now and said, “Thank you.”

“ ‘snothing,” said Anthony, and maybe that was true, but how wonderful that this could be nothing now.

“Would you like me to make us some breakfast while you work?”

“Nah. I mean, you can make breakfast, but I’m going to stop for now. I’ll pick it up again later, when you get lost in a book or something.” They got up together, and Anthony left behind notebooks and rolled up bits of paper and scattered pens. Aziraphale knew that he could be neat when he wanted, but apparently this was part of the creative process.

Before long they were seated at the little kitchen table by the window, looking out over water as they had last night when the sun had set. Anthony ate his eggs and toast quickly, as was his habit, and then he leaned back and yawned. “What do you want to do tonight, angel?”

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. “We’ve only just gotten up and you’re already planning more?”

Anthony grinned. “Nah, although I’m not saying that’s off the table. Hell, I’m not even saying we should wait for night for that. I just meant, what do you want to do for New Year’s Eve?”

“Oh. I’d completely forgotten, but it’s the last of the year, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. 2012 starting tomorrow. How do you want to ring it in?”

Aziraphale was quiet before finally saying, “We can just sit around and watch the ball drop or we can ignore it completely. I don’t rightly care. I’m just happy I’ll be with you.”

“That’s cheesy, angel.”

“That doesn’t make it less true,” Aziraphale insisted. It did not matter to him one jot how he rang in the New Year, so long as he had Anthony, because he hadn’t had that last year. It had been he and his flatmates and their favorite bar as it always was—as it had been for the past six years, as he had assumed it would be every year going forward.

He’d thought he’d understood what the rest of his human experience would be. There’d be work and friends and the bookshop and that was well enough. He never would have guessed, in his wildest dreams, that Anthony would arrive in London to pursue him. Never would have guessed that he’d end the year having made love for the first time in his whole 6,000 years with the being he’d adored for so much of that time. He had not expected it, had not thought he’d wanted it, but now that he had it he would not let it go.

Aziraphale looked suddenly at Anthony. “I know what I want to do for New Year’s.”

“Anything, angel.”

“Tonight, I don’t care about, but tomorrow morning, more than anything, I want to wake up with you. You’re right that harder times are coming, when we won’t be together and that it will all be a lot of work and careful balancing. But, at the very least, I can start the New Year holding you. That’s all I want.”

Anthony smiled at him. “That’s an easy one, angel, I can do that.”

And, when the sun rose the next morning, shining on the water and through the glass door, Aziraphale awoke to the first morning of the New Year with Anthony in his arms.