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Crowley lay in a pile of limbs on the soft, brown couch by the shop window, tapping his phone. Aziraphale could be heard moving through the bookshop, shelving one of the many homeless piles of books stacked throughout the shop.
The sun was streaming through the frosted windows, filtering through autumn leaves and falling over the couch containing the sprawling, red haired demon. Wind softly whispered through the tree branches while birds chirped in the distance.
“Angel?” Crowley asked, unaware of the current location of his partner.
Azariphale poked his head around a sagging bookshelf. “What was that, my dear?”
Crowley propped himself up with his forearms so he could meet his angel’s eyes. “Have you heard of Thanksgiving?”
Aziraphale tilted his head at the unfamiliar name. “No, I have not.”
“Well, it’s an American tradition, kinda like our Harvest Festival. And there’s food and stuff.” Crowley pushed himself up from the couch and took the remaining stack of books from Aziraphale, not tossing, but gently setting them on his desk. “You’d like it Angel, there's a bunch of love, and you know,” he gestured around, “Heavenly stuff.”
Aziraphale took Crowley’s drifting hands in his own, light blue sleeves cuffed up to his elbows, revealing his tattoos. Crowley had to force his eyes away to bring himself back to the point at hand.
"What exactly are you asking me dear?” Aziraphale questioned softly.
Crowley’s cheeks heated as his eyes darted back down. These kinds of sweet, intimate moments still made him nervous, but he’s working on it. “I just thought it would be,” Crowley paused and tilted his head. “Nice. We could, you know, celebrate? Maybe with a pie?”
Aziraphale beamed in delight. “Oh that sounds lovely. We can make a pie together, and I can finally learn to cook. Oh, I've always wanted to make my own food!”
Crowley couldn’t help but smile at his angel’s excitement. He had discovered this tradition, where Americans skip work and get drunk on food and alcohol, thinking it was some sort of sinful day humans created to justify their gluttony. But with more research he quickly realized it was quite angelic, quite… sweet.
“Oh, but what kind of pie to make? What do Americans have?” Aziraphale asked, brow crumpling into adorable valleys.
“I've seen apple pies, praline pies, and really good looking pumpkin pies.”
“I’ve never cooked before but I’m sure I’ve got a recipe book around here somewhere.” He looked around, eyes scanning for a cookbook. “Shall I find a pumpkin pie recipe?” Aziraphale added with a smile.
“Could you?” The demon asked sheepishly.
“Of course.”
Aziraphale set off in search of a cookbook and Crowley set off in search of his keys, knowing they would most certainly require a shopping trip to get all the ingredients needed. What do they even put in pumpkin pies?
…
“Angel! I'm back.” Crowley shouted as the door swung closed behind him, hands full of plastic shopping bags.
Aziraphale rushed out from the maze of shelves, grabbing Crowley by the back of the neck and pulling him in for a kiss, smiling against the stunned demon’s lips.
“I’ve found the perfect recipe!” Aziraphale exclaimed as he effortlessly relieved Crowley of the many bags weighing him down. “Let's take the groceries to the kitchen. I didn't have all the appliances originally but this seems like a perfectly good reason to use a few miracles. Crowley?” Aziraphale turned around to face a still dazed Crowley. “Are you coming?”
Crowley nodded, “Yeah, ah– ngk. Right behind you.”
They had been together, here, on the earth, for a long time, but the kissing… the kissing was still rather new. And despite how well Crowley knew his angel, Aziraphale still managed to keep him on his toes.
Crowley shook his head and grinned at his foolishness. What am I, human?
The demon followed Aziraphale’s rapidly departing back to the kitchenette behind the back room.
They set the bags on the counter and Crowley turned around in the narrow, lamp lit space. “I’ll be back in a second, there’s… a bit more in the car.”
“I can help you,” Aziraphale offered.
Crowley’s face reddened in embarrassment. “Oh, I uh. I think I can get them all myself.”
“Well you shouldn’t have to.” The angel said, his ‘I’m doing a good deed face’ punctuating the statement, leaving no room for argument.
So Aziraphale followed a red faced Crowley out to the Bentley, moving to get the door for the demon but pausing when he saw the sea of orange covering the back seat.
The angel raised his eyebrows and turned to Crowley. “Did you buy half the pumpkins in the store?”
The demon looked down, face still burning and mumbled something to the ground.
“What was that dear?” Aziraphale asked, voice softening as he realized how embarrassed Crowley was.
“They um…” Crowley cleared his throat. “They all just looked too perfect to leave there.”
Aziraphale smiled at his sweet words. While Crowley was fundamentally a demon and liked putting up a fiercely defensive front, he was really quite lovely. And no one, not even a demon, has to be exactly what their name entails. It’s like that wonderful human saying, what is it, ‘don't judge a book by its cover’?
“Well, lets get them all inside, shall we?”
Aziraphale and Crowley busied themselves with passing the pumpkins back and forth, each a bit more oblong or dented than the last. And Crowley was right, they were all perfect.
Once all the pumpkins were placed strategically around the bookshop, adding cheery splashes of color, Aziraphale asked the hard question. “So, which one do you want to put in the pie?”
Crowley made a disgusted face and Aziraphale added, “Or do we need to go to the store to get another one?”
“It’s alright Angel, there’s a can of already-cooked pumpkin in one of those bags.” He gestured off-handedly towards the kitchen. “Did you find a recipe?”
“I did! There was a cookbook hiding in the back room that says it has the world’s best pumpkin pie recipe.”
Crowley grinned at Aziraphale’s excitement as the eager angel grabbed his hand, tugging him towards the kitchenette.
In the cozy room, the pair found bowls stacked in piles on the stove next to a shiny, new stand mixer and a trillion measuring scoops.
“You’ve been busy.” Crowley remarked, stepping over to the miracled cookbook holder to scan the recipe. The demon had learned some pretty advanced cooking skills back in the 1800’s. Rather worthless skills for a demon who hardly eats, but he was bored.
“Well, a few miracles never hurt anyone.”
“No… no they didn’t.” Crowley agreed, slightly distracted by the recipe.
The recipe called for a butter based crust, which would make the dough sticky, but the demon knew it would become deliciously crispy after it was baked.
“Alright, the butter needs slightly softened and then added to the blender. I’ll measure the flour and salt and get the water.” Crowley turned, making sure his Angel understood only to find said angel giving him the most adoring look. “What?”
“Nothing. You’re just so passionate.”
Crowley smiled shyly, reaching for the flour. He still didn't know how Aziraphale managed to make a surly demon feel like the most perfect thing in the universe. “Thank you.”
Aziraphale moved behind him, wrapping his hands around the demon's slim waist and pressing a soft kiss to the back of Crowley’s neck, right below his hairline.
Crowley smiled without turning his head, but Aziraphale still got the message.
“All right, soften the butter,” Aziraphale confirmed as he released the demon.
“Yeah, go for it.” Crowley said as he evened out a scoop of flour with a knife.
Aziraphale placed the butter into the microwave, letting it run for a few seconds and checking it, only to find that it had softened a little too much.
“Oh dear, I might have messed it up a bit.”
Crowley looked over the angel’s shoulder at the slightly mushy butter. “It’ll be okay, we can still use it.”
“Are you sure? I can do it again,” Aziraphale offered.
Crowley smiled, “Angel, I promise it’s okay. Since butter has a high water content it melts really easily, which is why some people use vegetable shortening or lard for pie crust. They melt less quickly and are already softened, but butter makes a crispy and sweeter crust.”
Aziraphale tilted his head, “Why don't you cook more often? You clearly love it.”
“Not as fun when you're doing it by yourself, I guess.”
Aziraphale smiled wider, “I guess we better get to it then. We add the butter to the blender next, right?”
Crowley nodded, opening the lid for Aziraphale, who added the butter. He closed the lid and pulsed it a few times to form some large clumps.
“Angel, could you grab that cup of water?”
Aziraphale nodded, passing Crowley the cold water. Together they finished the dough, wrapping it in plastic wrap and placing it into the fridge.
“All right, now we can make the fill–” Crowley was cut off by Aziraphale’s lips on his own. Crowley sighed into the kiss as he brought up his hands to tangle in the angel’s fluffy blond hair.
“ Now we can make the filling.” Aziraphale said as they parted, his lips quirking upward at the sight of a noticeably turned on Crowley.
The demon nodded, speechless. He tugged the cookbook towards him, scanning it for the next steps. He had never been kissed like that before. To be fair, he had never kissed anyone before (besides Aziraphale, of course). It was good. We’re doing that again.
“Um, can you crack the eggs into a bowl? I'm going to try and find a can opener.”
Aziraphale gestured downwards, a can opener appearing in his hand and offered it to Crowley. “We're going to get your pie done, even if we need to use up a few extra miracles. They’re worth it.”
Crowley smiled. He knew how meaningful it was for Aziraphale to be this liberal with miracles.
He took the can opener from him, fingers brushing. “Thank you,” he said softly.
“You're very welcome.” Aziraphale retrieved a bowl and two eggs from the pile of utensils and ingredients on the counter while Crowley's attention was drawn to the can opener, it was proving quite difficult to cut through the aluminum can.
“Oh sugar!” Aziraphale exclaimed, and Crowley spun at the urgency in his voice. “Now I've really done it!” The egg was in the bowl; the entire egg, shell included. "Oh Crowley, you should just finish it without me. I've already messed your pie up enough.”
Crowley frowned at Aziraphale's words. “Nonsense Angel. Here, we'll finish our pie together.” Crowley reached for Aziraphale’s hands, pulling him close, initiating contact. He knew what it was like to feel guilty; like you were the problem. Like just doing what you thought was right ruined everything. He didn't want Aziraphale to ever feel the same.
Aziraphale smiled. “Thank you dear.”
“Of course.” I'll never let him feel how I did, like he's the problem. He's not. He's perfect.
So Crowley tossed the egg in the trash and grabbed a fresh one, handing it to Aziraphale who bit his lip, nervous.
“It's okay. You crack it, I'll help you separate the sides of the shell. You'll do great.” Crowley was all soft words and gentle touches as he comforted his Angel, but internally he was furious. He knew how awful the heads of heaven could be, and he hated that Aziraphale had clearly been exposed to their toxic ideology. He hated the thought of anyone having hurt his Angel. I won’t let Heaven take him away again.
Crowley smiled as Aziraphale carefully tapped the egg against the side of the bowl, barely chipping it. “It's all right Angel. We have a whole dozen, just in case.”
Crowley’s words helped Aziraphale calm as he rapped the egg twice on the side of the bowl, creating a sizable weak spot in the shell.
Crowley placed his hands over Aziraphale’s, helping him slowly pull the shell apart. They mixed the rest of the filling together, Crowley guiding Aziraphale with his voice and small touches.
Once it was finished, Crowley got the dough out of the fridge. Together they rolled it out, dough quickly becoming sticky, but the messiness just made it better. It might be an imperfect pie, but it would be their imperfect pie.
Crowley and Aziraphale both held the large bowl as they poured the pie filling into the crust. Crowley then laid the top bit of crust over the pan, meeting Aziraphale halfway as they pressed the edges together, fingers tangling as they finished.
Crowley gripped Aziraphale’s hand tight, pulling it up to his lips. “Thank you.” He whispered softly against the back of his Angel’s perfectly manicured hand.
“You are very welcome my dear. Can I ask what for?”
Crowley wet his lips with the edge of his tongue. “You know,” his eyes flick down to his twitching fingers. “The pie.”
Aziraphale knew Crowley wasn't saying entirely what he meant, but he also knew that this kind of stuff was hard for his wily, fast talking demon. He pressed his nose to Crowley's neck, whispering against the demon’s skin. “Is that all?”
Crowley tilted his head, still avoiding his Angel's eyes. Maybe I shouldn't have said anything.
“My dear boy, you can tell me.”
“It's… Thank you, thank you for still staying here, with me. For being with, well, you know, a demon. And you're an angel, and lovely, so lovely. And… and I don't know if I deserve that.”
Aziraphale took Crowley’s hand as the demon reached to pick at the pie crust. He kissed him, soft and reassuring.
“Dear boy, I don't deserve all of this .” Crowley's lips parted in an attempt to contradict but Aziraphale silenced him with a look. “Crowley.” Aziraphale traced under his perfect, yellow eyes, resting his fingers on the outermost corners. “I'm sorry someone ever made you feel like you don’t deserve to be cherished.”
Crowley's eyes dropped, words of a past life filtering through his memories. You don't deserve this power. You don't deserve this status. You're as far from angelic as Beelzebub themself.
“Crowley.” Aziraphale said softly. “You deserve the world.” He pulled Crowley in, soft lips blocking out the charged memories.
Crowley melted into the angel’s arms, slowly parting his lips. Aziraphale held the demon close, tongue pressing against Crowley’s mouth.
I love him.
“Now let's get that pie in the oven, dear.” Aziraphale said, breaking their kiss.
Crowley reached for a tea cloth to keep from getting burnt as he slid the pan into the oven.
They set a timer and retreated to the chill of the front room, a stark contrast to the warm, oven heated kitchenette.
Crowley immediately grabbed a blanket off the loveseat, carrying it over to the couch where Aziraphale had already taken his usual seat.
The chilly demon curled up under the blanket as Aziraphale guided him so he was leaning against the warm angel, nuzzling into his neck, nose cold against Aziraphale’s warm skin.
They stay twined together and, while the pie was steadily baking in the oven it was no one ‘up there’s’ business if a small miracle caused the time to slow and stretch giving the celestial beings all the time in the world to bask in the embrace of each other.