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"Crowley,” Aziraphale’s voice came from the other room. “When you’re out this afternoon, do you think you could pop over to the shops and grab some of that tea I like? The English Breakfast tea in the in the light brown packet?”
“Sure, angel, I can do that. Is there anything else I should get while I’m out?” Crowley responded, poking his head into the room Aziraphale was in.
The angel paused momentarily, taking his bottom lip between his teeth and looking towards the ceiling as if a shopping list could be found there. “Well,” Aziraphale said, pausing again. “Perhaps some chocolate. The good kind. It is Valentine’s Day after all.”
Crowley froze. Was it? Had he forgotten? It had only just been Christmas, hadn’t it? He did some quick mental math on the date. “Angel, that’s still three weeks from now.”
The angel smiled, sheepishly. “Yes, but the stores have already put out the chocolates in the little heart-shaped boxes, and well, when one gets the mind to have chocolate…” He trailed off, not really needing to finish the sentence, knowing the demon would get him anything he asked him for.
“Alright,” Crowley acquiesced, making a face that could have been mistaken for a grimace. He could not forget Valentine’s Day. As silly as he found the whole thing, he knew- had known for years- that the angel found the saccharine holiday irresistible. The whole thing with angels and love.
“Oh thank you,” Aziraphale said. “And take my scarf, the snow’s started falling again and you’ll catch a cold.”
“I don’t…” Crowley began to argue, but stopped, noticing the look he got in response that suggested there would be consequences if the scarf did not come back damp from the snowy weather outside. Crowley paused at the door, grumbling to himself as he wrapped the pale blue scarf around his neck before pulling a thicker black coat on top of his black sweater, and black denim outfit. No sense in skipping the coat, either, Crowley supposed. If the angel was going to make him wear a scarf, he’d be cross if the coat did not also go along for the trip.
On the way to the shop, Crowley pondered the holiday. So much had changed in their relationship since the Apoca-lapsed and since the angel had returned from heaven. Of course, so much had remained the same, as well. One thing remained unchanged, and that was the strange love that coursed through the demon for the angel he’d left in the shop.
Love was not supposed to be something demons were able to experience, but over time he had come to understand that there was no other word than love that accurately represented what he felt for Aziraphale. And what was more, despite knowing in his bones that it was love that he felt in return from the angel, he understood that it was not love of a romantic nature. This warm, safe, held feeling they shared was love, but it certainly was not easy to represent at Valentine’s Day. All the cards and gifts…they were all for lovers. Crowley and Aziraphale loved each other, but they were not in love. Maybe at some point in their 6000-year-long slow-burn friendship, they felt romantic feelings for one another, but often at missed intervals, and now cherished the fact that their friendship and the love there was precious as well; exceedingly rare and valuable. Not to mention more durable than romantic love.
Crowley shivered as he pushed his way into the doors of the shop, brushing the heavy wet snow off the scarf he wore while making his way to the tea and coffee aisle to find the angel’s requested tea. Perhaps he might also find some new blend of tea there that the angel hadn’t tried yet. Casting his eyes to the floor, he removed his glasses and polished the lenses of the water droplets that remained.
“Oh, Mr. Crowley!” A voice chirped from beside him. Crowley flinched, shoving his glasses back on his face before looking up to identify his assailant. Mrs. Sandwich stood there, smiling broadly at him. “In the tea aisle, no less. Come to fetch something for that lamb of yours back home?”
Crowley hesitated, flustered. “Yes, I mean- no… I mean yes, tea, for the angel.” He emphasized the pet name. “Lamb?”
Mrs. Sandwich smiled fondly at Crowley, “You know, the good Mr. Fell ?” She selected an item off the shelf, Crowley recognized it as an inexpensive tea from a previous instance in which he had tried to bring the angel home tea and brought the blend Mrs. Sandwich was holding back for him. He hadn’t heard the end of how American tea blends would never quite capture the essence of tea and all that. Maybe a different small gift would be better than a tea blend not specifically requested by the angel. “Have you figured out what you’re doing for ‘im for Valentine’s Day?” Mrs. Sandwich asked, dropping the tea into her shopping basket and snapping Crowley from his thoughts.
“Oh- er… not…as such,” Crowley said, putting the blend of tea Aziraphale had indicated into his own basket. “He… he likes chocolate,” Crowley said, not wanting to give away too much information about his angel.
“Of course he does,” Mrs. Sandwich said. “Well, better get ‘im some then, there’s a lad.” And as quickly as she’d arrived, he watched her bustle away after putting another box of the tea she had selected in her basket. “Have a lovely evening, Mr. Crowley,” she said over her shoulder.
Bewildered, Crowley watched her go before turning to find the candy aisle for some chocolate. As he walked, he spotted an aisle on the way filled with Valentine’s Day-specific items. Thank goodness Mrs. Sandwich hadn’t caught him there. She’d have probably tried to recommend all manner of gifts to Aziraphale, and perhaps some not able to be purchased at Tesco’s. Crowley shuddered at the thought. He quickly selected a box of chocolates, wrapped garishly in red cellophane. He knew the brand and knew it was a good one according to Aziraphale’s standards and dropped it into his basket. Turning, he noticed that the other side of the aisle were all sorts of gifts, from pink and red mugs to teddy bears holding hearts with vaguely sexual phrases on them, as well as a large selection of cards. Curiously, Crowley thumbed through a few, picking up one at a time.
“My favorite Valentine forever and always”. No.
“My biggest win was marrying you.” Not the one. It had an American football on it.
“You are one in a melon”. What? No.
“We make a great pear”. Crowley stuck his tongue out. He hated pears. The angel loved them. Still, no.
“Our love story is my favorite.” This was true wasn’t it? Crowley figured perhaps he could cross out the words “To my husband” written at the top of the card.
“ I’ve loved you from the moment I laid eyes on you.” Crowley stared at this one, the gold embossed swirly print popping against the magenta background. He appreciated the sentiment. All those years ago in the Garden. This was certainly true. Crowley opened the card and frowned at the script inside, “To the love of my life, my beautiful wife.” Frustrated, he slotted the card back upside down- had to incite a little chaos every once in a while, he figured.
This was hopeless. All the cards were for lovers. This was the same year after year. At least he had time to think about what to get the angel. Crowley quickly purchased his items, choosing a few additional things to obscure the heart-shaped box and the ceramic mug he’d picked up last minute from the girl at the counter. He noticed her raise her eyebrows, her mouth moving to the words, “Be My Main Squeeze, Valentine,” which was printed on the side next to a cartoon snake. Crowley let his glasses slide down his nose so his golden-hued snake eyes peeked over the top edge. “Everything in one bag, if you pleasssse,” he hissed at her.
She nodded, eyes wide in response, “Yes, sir.”
Crowley gathered his purchases after waving his card over the chip-reader. Pulling his scarf tightly around his face, he made the short walk back to the bookshop.
Once inside, he draped the scarf over the coat rack before sliding his coat off as well and hanging it next to the scarf. “Angel?” He called, pulling the tea blend from the bag and tying the handles of the bag together to hide his other purchases. “I’m home,” he said, walking towards the room he’d left the angel in.
“Oh, Crowley, good- you’re back,” the angel said, coming to greet him. “Let’s go make some of that tea you brought now, yes? Get you all warmed up?”
Crowley nodded, “Sure, sounds brilliant.” He followed the angel. “Did I get the right kind?” He held out the packet to Aziraphale.
“Yes! Right on, dear,” Aziraphale said, taking the packet from him and smiling up at him. He reached up and patted the demon’s cold cheek. “My, you’re freezing.” Crowley noticed the angel spot the bag he was still holding. “Did you get the chocolate? And…what else did you get?”
“Valentine’s Day is still weeks away. You’ll have to wait and see,” Crowley said, smiling wryly in response, pulling the heart-shaped box from the bag and carefully holding it to his chest to avoid the angel’s prying eyes. Crowley snapped his fingers and the bag vanished from sight.
“Ah, I suppose you’re right,” Aziraphale said accepting the box of chocolates. “Let’s have this tonight anyway, with the tea.”
Crowley blushed a little, “Alright, angel.” He said. “I love you.”
“And I love you, my dear Crowley,” Aziraphale said, looking up at him, a warm smile on his face. “How very grateful I am to have you in my life all these years.”
“You have me forever,” Crowley replied. “Wherever I go, I’ll always come back.”
Aziraphale just smiled, reaching for the demon’s hand and leading him into the yellow-lit kitchenette where the kettle was miraculously already boiling for their tea.
“I don’t really know what ‘I love you’ means. I think it means ‘Don’t leave me here alone.”
-Neil Gaiman