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Crowley was morosely drifting through the toy store, subtly making small changes. Science based toys were displayed prominently, and Barbie pink invaded the “boys” section. Still, his heart wasn’t really in it. Made sense, seeing as his heart had buggered off to Heaven with one last “I forgive you” to make sure the wound didn’t close.
Christmas was fast approaching, and the tall demon stylishly dressed in black stood out starkly against all the colours and lights of the decorations. He was bored, and he missed the stupid angel with his silly pink cheeks and curly hair and penchant for sweets of all sorts. Just thinking about it put him out of sorts. He turned around to storm out of the store when That Song came over the music system.
It was inescapable. It was everywhere. That super-sweet, nauseatingly cheerful voice with its stupid wish! If he had to suffer through it constantly, Aziraphale should have to listen to it every day, too, instead of looking down his holier-than-thou nose from high above in Heaven.
Then it came to him, swift and hard as the lightning that flowed from him when he was angry. He could fix that. Make it so the new Supreme Archangel would have to think of him. To suffer the same low-level annoyance that he dealt with on the daily.
He even knew who could help him with his spot of mischievous revenge. That blonde human in the record shop owed him for convincing him to open up to Aziraphale and have him slice his heart into tiny bits like steak tartare, served back to him raw and cold. She wouldn’t turn him down. And that angel the Metadick had left in his angel’s bookshop was an all-right sort. They had snuck him into Heaven before; they would help him get his message to the Supreme ArchArse.
Chortling to himself like the Grinch, Crowley sped back to Soho, parking in his usual spot near the bookshop. The human was first, but her shop was just right there. With a pat for the Bentley, Crowley began the first step of Operation All I Want.
**********
A few days later, the scheme was thought out, costumes and props were ready, and Crowley could barely contain his evil, exuberant glee. Just wait until Aziraphale saw the show he had planned! He would bust a gasket! Or, at least show Crowley some attention finally. Not that that was important, but it did cross the demon’s mind occasionally.
With a shoulder bump from Crowley, Muriel squared their shoulders, left the bookshop, and headed to the elevator that would take them up to Heaven. Normally, she looked forward to a visit with Supreme Archangel Aziraphale, but if this didn’t work out like the demon hoped, they could be in big trouble. And it could just make Aziraphale sad. Well, sadder. The sweet blond angel had been acting sadder and sadder the longer he was away from Earth. After spending time on the planet taking care of the bookshop like the Metatron had charged them, Muriel could understand Aziraphale’s feelings. Earth was full of sounds and colours and textures never experienced in the pristine white halls of Heaven.
They knew he missed Crowley, too, even if he never said. Once they had caught the archangel looking down into Soho through the Earth Observatory, tears leaking from both eyes. Muriel had been concerned that his corporation was broken. But Aziraphale had assured them it was just an emotional outlet and nothing to worry about. Or mention to anyone ever. That last bit had sounded more like a command than a suggestion, so Muriel had made sure not to tell anyone about it.
Squaring their shoulders, Muriel walked calmly to the Supreme Archangel’s office. Crowley had reassured them by reminding them the trick not to get noticed was to act like they belonged there. It seemed to work, as they passed several small groups of angels, and no one even glanced their way.
But then they heard laughter that sent a chill down their spine, and they quickly ducked behind a pillar as Michael and Uriel headed their way down the hall.
“Can you believe he still thinks the Metatron gave him the position as a reward?” Michael said with a cold chuckle.
“Did you see his face when the Metatron reminded him about the scapegoat?”
“And when he was given the choice of that demon or him serving as the sacrifice to herald in the Second Coming?”
“Ridiculous angel! He’ll probably end up sacrificing himself,” Uriel shook her head as they passed Muriel’s hiding space.
Muriel held their breath until the two archangels were out of sight. She didn’t understand all of what they’d been talking about, but the bit about sacrificing didn’t bode well for Aziraphale at all. They walked quickly towards his office, thankfully through a now empty hallway.
When they got to the only door in sight, Muriel paused when they heard soft sobs on the other side of the door. They hated to interrupt if the Archangel was having a private moment, but Crowley had been most insistent that the package and message be delivered promptly. So they gently knocked in a code Crowley had taught them, meaning “shave and a haircut, two bits”. They didn’t understand, but it made Crowley grin.
The sobs on the other side of the door halted instantly, followed by some soft rustling. Aziraphale's voice only wavered a little as he called out, “I'm afraid I am quite closed at the moment. Please come by later if you need me.”
“Supreme Archangel Aziraphale, it's me. Muriel. I have something for you. It's very important.”
Footsteps quickly approached, and Aziraphale opened the door with his best attempt at a smile.
“Muriel! So good to see you, my dear. Please do come in!” he said, standing to the side and ushering them in. Muriel smiled happily, and went to stand by the old-fashioned desk that took up most of the room.
Aziraphale carefully closed and locked the door, checking first to make sure no one else was outside in the area. Then he joined Muriel,looking both relieved and happy to see them.
“Now what did you bring me from Earth that's so important, Muriel?”
“It's from Mister Crowley, sir. He said it was a present. Because it's almost Christmas.” Muriel bounced a bit on their toes, their excitement threatening to burst right out of their skin.
“A Christmas present? From Crowley?!! But we've never…. He didn't need to….” Aziraphale straightened the lapels of his dove gray suit jacket, and took a deep breath. “May I see it, please?” he asked, holding out his hand.
Muriel handed him a small, thin, square package wrapped in silver paper with a red and black bow.
He took the elegant gift with hands that only trembled a little. Muriel smiled encouragingly.
“Mister Crowley said to say (their voice dropped to imitate the gruff demon), ‘Hey, Aziraphale, why don’t you get….’”
Aziraphale looked at them puzzled, waiting for them to finish. Muriel just grinned and gave him “go on, open it” hands. With utmost care to keep the delicate paper from tearing, Aziraphale removed the bow, opened one side of the wrapping paper, and pulled out a record. It was a small one, just a 45. The label had been replaced by a picture of Crowley in a Santa hat, smirking at him.
“…Why don’t you get… oooh! A Clue!” he shouted excitedly. “Why don’t I get a clue? Well, yes, that does seem like something he would say.” His face clouded over, and Muriel bit their bottom lip, hoping they hadn’t done the wrong thing.
But the archangel recovered and gave them a wane smile. “Let’s see if we can figure out what clue Crowley is going on about, hmm?” With a wave of his hand, the small phonograph player from the bookshop appeared on top of his desk. Although it wasn’t plugged in, it started right up when Aziraphale turned the knob. After all, it was never plugged in at the bookshop, either. But Aziraphale expected it to work when he turned the knob, and so, it did.
He placed the platter on the player, carefully setting the needle on the edge, not sure what to expect from his wily frie… from Crowley. He was surprised to hear a woman singing with little accompaniment.
I don’t want a lot for Christmas.
There is just one thing I need.
I don’t care about the presents
Underneath the Christmas tree,
I just want you for my own
More than you could ever know.
Make my wish come true.
All I want for Christmas is you!
The music picked up and Aziraphale was startled to find he was pressing his fingers to his mouth, and there was a salty taste from the tears running down his cheeks. He quickly wiped away the tears and turned to look at Muriel.
“Crowley sent this?” he asked, his voice only quavering a smidge. Muriel smiled and nodded. “For me?” Muriel’s smile widened as she nodded enthusiastically. “Well then,” Aziraphale said, steel in his voice and determination on his face, “we mustn’t disappoint him then. He has been a rather good boy this year.”
The record finished, but as Aziraphale turned back to replace the phonograph’s arm, it moved by itself, and the song started all over again. Aziraphale couldn’t help the mighty grin that spread. “Also, the longer we delay, the more chance someone will track down his wily trick.”
“Well, first things first. Time to get out of these stuffy clothes and back into something comfortable.” With a wave of his hand, the tailored suit was replaced by his old beloved clothes. The suit, folded neatly on the desk, would undoubtedly convey his message, but angels could be a bit slow. So the former Supreme Archangel put pen to paper, writing simply,
I quit.
No longer yours,
Aziraphale
“Muriel, dear, I think we had best get a wiggle on before they track down the music. They blocked the elevator from me, so you’ll need to come with me.”
“Are we staying on Earth?”
“Would you like to stay there?”
“Oh, yes! Very much so!”
“Then stay you shall. You may have a home at the bookshop as long as you wish.”
They left the office smiling. All Aziraphale took with him was the wrapping paper and the clothes he had worn when he arrived. They passed by several angels heading toward the former archangel’s office, but they kept calm, and nobody noticed them. They both sighed with relief when they entered the elevator without being accosted. With another brilliant smile, Muriel pushed the button to take them back to Earth.
Aziraphale couldn’t tamp down the eager excitement he felt building in his chest as they hurried from the elevator towards the bookshop. Crowley! He was going to see Crowley in just a minute. A Crowley who might be mad, and sad, and hurt. But a Crowley who cared enough to give him A Clue. A Crowley who might be willing to show a very contrite angel the true meaning of forgiveness.
He took a deep breath, and opened the door to the bookshop, the happy jingle of the bell at the entrance welcoming him home. As he stepped in, he came to a quick stop, taking in the scene before him with amazed joy.
The bookshop was decorated like a winter wonderland, with a huge tree covered in fairy lights and baubles in front of the till. Aziraphale took a few enchanted steps forward. As he stepped down past the entryway, music started, and the song on The Clue started up. Only, instead of the young woman who usually sang, Crowley’s sweet tenor filled the air. He sauntered out from behind the tree, and Aziraphale felt poleaxed.
Crowley was dressed in a very short Santa dress with soft white fur trim around the hem and the low scoop neckline. His ginger hair fell in waves to his shoulders, topped by a cheery Santa hat. He wore circular black glasses with three twinkling diamonds on the outside of each lense. Black stiletto boots went up past his knees, and the angel caught a glimpse of garters holding the sheer black stockings to the demon’s long, wiry legs. As he reached the end of the intro, Crowley pointed straight at Aziraphale, his nails painted a deep red, as he sang “All I want for Christmas is you!”
Aziraphale thought his heart would beat out his chest as he took two more steps forward towards his beloved adversary. Hope and love radiated from his shy smile. Then the music picked up tempo, and Aziraphale found himself frozen in place again.
Crowley belted out the song, wiggling and strutting in a very, well, seductive, manner! Far from feeling cold, Aziraphale felt like he was being consumed by a pillar of fire, raging like the hellfire Crowley had gone through in Heaven.
His hands went to his lips again and pressed, letting him relive that kiss in the bookshop. He was certain that he would not survive if he never got to feel those lips again. It was time to act!
As the song came back around to the chorus, Aziraphale joined in, adding his own little dance to the music. Crowley stopped and stared, but the angel continued on.
I don’t want a lot for Christmas.
There is just one thing I need.
Right hand raised, palm up, cocked at the wrist.
I don’t care about the presents
Underneath the Christmas tree,
Left hand raised, palm up, cocked at the wrist.
I just want you for my own
More than you could ever know.
A slow spin with both hands remaining up.
Make my wish come true.
A low curtsy.
All I want for Christmas is you!
Down to his knees, hands clenched in supplication.
“Aziraphale!”
“Crowley! Please forgive me, dear.”
“You did the little dance!”
“Not as… stimulating as your little dance, but, yes. You deserve so much more.”
The music stopped and the ginger demon slowly moved up and offered his hand.
“You idiot,” he said, “c'mere.” The fondness in his voice negated the sting of his words, and Aziraphale felt hope blossom as he took Crowley’s proffered hand and stood.
For a moment, all they did was stare at each other, Aziraphale holding on tightly, loath to release Crowley’s hand. They were so close to each other, and it was all Aziraphale could do not to fall into his demon’s arms. But there were a few things to be said first.
“You were right,” he admitted sadly. “Heaven is unchangable.”
“Did they hurt you?” Crowley asked gruffly, his eyebrows clumped together in displeasure.
“Not physically, no. I am safe and I am here, dearest,” Aziraphale reassured him.
Crowley’s eyebrows flew at the sound of “dearest”, but gathered himself enough to grumble, “Well, good thing for them, or I’d be throwing hands up there.”
Aziraphale chuckled. He had no doubt Crowley would go down swinging. “However,” he continued, “the constant scorn and derision was very taxing. And I… I missed my shop and the humans and… you. Most of all, I missed you, Crowley.”
They both stood there silent, the sorrow of their long time apart filling them both.
“Don’t forget the Suggestion Box,” Muriel piped up, breaking the quiet. “You said you didn’t make any change in Heaven, but you did! No one had ever asked our opinion on anything before.”
“You put up a Suggestion Box?” Crowley’s eyes were wide as he took off his glasses and tossed them on the counter.
“Yes, well, I remembered an angel from long ago thought it a good idea. Given the inflexibility rampant in Heaven, I thought I’d take his advice and see if it helped. The other archangels weren’t keen, though. I doubt they’ll keep it up now.”
“Now?”
“Oh! I haven’t told you the best bit yet, have I? I talked with Jesus today. It wasn’t easy, but I managed to get away to see him without the Metatron. I told him what Heaven had planned for the Second Coming, and he was instantly against it.”
“Didn’t I tell you he was a bright young man? I don’t know how long he can hold Heaven back, but it sounds like we’re safe here for now. How long before you head back Upstairs, angel?”
“About that. I might have…. Well, that is to say…”
“He quit!” Muriel said happily.
“Yes. That,” Aziraphale said, his head hung low and an embarrassed blush staining his cheeks and ears.
“You quit?!! Woohoo, Heaven won’t like that!”
“No,” Aziraphale said softly, “they won’t.” He lifted his head to look into Crowley’s yellow eyes, determination filling his face. “But I no longer care. I was charged to guard the Earth and all its inhabitants. And, of all its inhabitants, you are my favourite, Crowley. I… I love you. If you don’t mind, please, do it again?”
Crowley’s mouth worked, but only some disjointed sounds emerged as he tried to process Aziraphale saying the L word right out loud. The angel waited patiently, smiling gently at his discombobulated friend.
Finally, demonic thoughts realigned enough for Crowley to gasp, “Do it again? Do what now?”
Aziraphale looked up coyly through his dark gold eyelashes and waited for Crowley to catch up. He wasn’t the only one who needed to “get A Clue” it seemed.
It was worth the wait when it hit Crowley what he wanted. The eyebrows took flight, allowing him to see Crowley’s beautiful eyes; huge, golden, and full of passion. Those long legs only needed a single step to close the distance between them. Crowley’s long fingers stroked his cheek softly, the jolt of it sending shivers down his back.
“Yes?” Crowley asked, still not sure of his welcome.
“Yes!” Aziraphale cried. “Please, yes. I need to feel you, my darling. I’ve longed for-“
“Shhh,” Crowley whispered as he tilted his head to gently kiss his angel. It was perfect; the kiss he’d been longing for since 1941 when he’d been shocked to realize that his demon loved him, too.
Aziraphale melted into the kiss, happily holding his love close, stroking his soft red waves, and feeling like a sparkler set ablaze to shimmer and light up the night. He couldn’t help running his tongue against Crowley’s soft lip, and rejoiced when the demon opened to him with a needy whine. As the kiss deepened with their desire, Aziraphale let his hand wander from Crowley’s hair to his slender waist, tugging him even closer yet.
When they finally broke apart, it was only far enough to rest their foreheads together and catch their breaths.
“Are you going to do a sex now?” Muriel asked excitedly.
“Have sex, dear. Not do a sex,” Aziraphale corrected automatically. Crowley snorted and was greatly amused. Until Aziraphale turned to look into his eyes, heat deepening his eyes to stormy grey.
“And,” he continued, his eyes never leaving Crowley’s, “if Crowley is amenable, I would very much like to have sex with him. I want to leave no doubts about my feelings.”
Crowley gulped. “Er, I mean, uhm… yeah. Very amenable, me.”
“Oh, wonderful!” Muriel exclaimed. “I’ve read so much about it, but I've never actually seen anyone do it.”
“Nor will you now, I’m afraid,” Aziraphale said firmly. “It’s a very private matter, my dear. I think you should go spend an hour at Nina’s. You may take a book to read if you wish.”
“Might want to make that two hours, Little Angel. We have a LOT of lost time to make up!” Crowley chimed in. Aziraphale blushed deeply, but he didn’t argue about it, either.
Muriel pouted, but it didn’t seem to have the same effect on the demon as Aziraphale’s pouts did. With a sigh, they grabbed the book they’d been reading and headed to the door.
“Oi!” Crowley called before they reached the door. Muriel stopped and looked back. “No need to be telling Coffee Woman about what we’re getting up to. Though she’ll probably have a pretty good idea.” Muriel smiled and nodded. Which wasn’t really a promise, was it?
“Oh, and turn the sign to “Closed” as you leave, please,” Aziraphale added. When the tinkling bell sounded Muriel’s departure, the sturdy blond turned back to his handsome companion with a heated, appraising gaze.
“Now where were we?” mused Aziraphale, and Crowley grinned.
“I think you were sucking my lips off my face, angel.”
Aziraphale tsked, but it carried little heat as he gathered the willowy redhead back into his strong arms.
“What are you wearing under that charming, albeit tiny, skirt, fiend?” he asked, his hands wandering lower to squeeze Crowley’s firm arse, enjoying the soft red velvet barely covering it.
“Wait and see, Aziraphale. Wait and see.”