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“Why that one? If you have to do all this festive stuff, why not one of those stars humans are so fond of?”
“But it’s pretty.” Aziraphale’s face turned pleading. Why did he have to look like the sort of sad puppy dog Crowley could never resist miracling a treat for?
“Well, ehh. If you say so.” Crowley slumped onto the sofa and tried not to look at it. “I can’t relax with it watching me like that. I feel like it’s going to report back to someone about whatever it sees here.”
“That’s silly. Besides, I think you’re getting it mixed up with that elf. You know, the one people keep asking me about in the shop. Like I would sell them a creature to spy on their children. It’s creepy.” He huffed and reached up to straighten the angel tree topper.
Crowley tried to look anywhere else in the room but the tree. But that… that thing was just there, its little plastic face looking all smug and supercilious. He’d had enough celestial judgment for an immortal lifetime. He threw himself down and stretched out along the sofa, hands folded across his chest and eyes closed. Maybe if he couldn’t see it… but no, that didn’t work. He still felt its presence, and not looking was worse. What might it be up to? “Ngk.” He leapt up. “I can’t do this. I’m going to drink in the kitchen where it can’t see me.”
Aziraphale shrugged anxiously. “I just want our first tree here to be nice and festive.”
“Yeah, well, call me if that angel falls or something.” Crowley strode into the kitchen, grabbed a bottle, and tried not to think about either angel.
After a few drinks, the feelings were prickling instead of going away. Aziraphale—he couldn’t call him just angel now that that thing was here too—did just want to make things nice for them both, even if Crowley couldn’t care less. And it made him so happy. Crowley sighed and reluctantly rose from the chair. Maybe the alcohol would at least help that thing be more bearable. How bad could it be, really? It was just some plastic and fabric. He grabbed Aziraphale’s favorite bottle of wine, miracled it full, found the particular glasses Aziraphale insisted had to go with it, and walked back to the main room, taking care to avoid looking toward the tree.
“Thought you might like a drink too.” He set the glasses and bottle down on a small table. As he poured the wine, he could sense Aziraphale just standing near the tree, waiting with an unusual quiet. “Well? Care to join me?” When he still got no response, he turned to look for Aziraphale, careful not to look at the tree itself.
“How do you like it?” Aziraphale was fidgeting nervously, his eyebrows raised in a hopeful expression.
“What?”
Aziraphale motioned toward the top of the tree, and Crowley finally looked. Where the other thing had once been now sat a star, shimmering with a radiance unlike any star atop a mortal’s tree.
His heart skipped a beat. “It’s…”
“You were so uncomfortable and I want this to be nice for both of us.”
It felt like such a petty thing now to have been upset over. But Aziraphale, angel, had changed it for him, even making use of a small miracle just so he could be more comfortable. Crowley couldn’t put words to the feelings that stirred in him. “It’s… pretty.” A word he would normally never use for anything, and felt so awkward in his mouth, but he could concede that much. This time. And the way Aziraphale’s face lit up made it worth the pain.
“Oh, I’m so glad you like it.” He reached out to adjust a few decorations. “That… that other one is gone for good.”
Crowley picked up the glasses and walked across the room, holding one out to Aziraphale. “Good. You’re all the angel we need.” He tried to sound gruff, but the softness he felt came through and Aziraphale’s cheeks pinkened in a way that made Crowley’s heart skip another beat.
Maybe Christmas wouldn’t be so bad after all.