Disclaimer: All I want for Christmas is Crowley. Are Neil and Terry reading?
Christmas Day, 2056
The newly named Republic of Britain were celebrating their new – found republicism along with Christmas Day.
There were parties held all over the country. The country which 'James' Crowley had just flown back into, having been in some state of hippy bliss for many years now (but he couldn't remember where).
He was attending just one of these parties, somewhere in a downstairs lobby of a large London hotel.
A young woman who looked like she'd walked out of a sci – fi from the 1960's set in the year 2000 (which everyone did in 2056) walked by.
"Hello, beautiful," said Crowley. "I hear the rooms here are quite nice."
Being slightly too drunk to apply any of his demonic powers, and the woman being madly in love with another man, and Crowley looking like a leering young hooligan, she tossed her head in disgust.
Crowley went back to sipping his cocktail. "Funny thing that they call it a cocktail," he mused.
"Crowley?"
Crowley looked up. His jaw dropped.
"Angel? Oh, boy, is it nice to see you again!"
"The same, my boy, the same!" cried Aziraphale, shaking the demon's hand warmly. Then hugged him, after deciding Crowley was drunk enough to allow it. "I haven't seen you in, how long was it?"
"Dunno," said Crowley, truthfully.
"Oh well. It is nice to see you again. You look-" Aziraphale broke off. Demons never looked well. Nor did Crowley look particularly unwell. "Just like I remember you," he finished.
"Mmm, so d'you," said Crowley, trying not to laugh at the sight of Aziraphale wearing a TV on his wrist and silver shoulder pads.
"What have you been doing?"
"Nothing really, it's a new form of nirvana. Of course, there might have bin somethin' there in the air…"
"Ah, you've been taking some time for yourself, good," said Aziraphale.
Crowley rolled his eyes. "And you?"
"Well," the angel looked at the floor. "I actually just had to sell my bookshop."
"Oh. 'M sorry." Crowley patted Aziraphale on the shoulder pad, for which Aziraphale thanked him.
"Lishen, Aza- Azar- Angel, how you enjoying the party?" asked Crowley, in an undertone which implied that neither of them was.
"Ahm, I think it has died down somewhat," euphemised Aziraphale.
"I hear the rooms here are lovely."
"Are they?"
"Mm. Tell you what, I'll go and get one, then you can come up and we can talk."
"Oh, if you're sure, that would be very nice."
The room was very nice. It over – looked a sparkling harbour, where lights danced from the windows of surrounding bars.
The angel and he demon sat down on the bed.
And they did talk.
Eventually Crowley lay back. "Mmm, that's good," he said. "Come on, lie back."
"My dear, I don't wish to offend you at all, but I think I should be, spreading the good word and all that."
Crowley slid off his sunglasses. His luminous amber eyes shone in the half – darkness. His body slithered in a kind of dark graceful way.
It occurred to Aziraphale that what with the lovely body, Crowley could be a great dancer. But demons couldn't really dance.
"I took up art, you know," said Crowley.
"Did you?"
"Yeah, they asked me to pose at the next class."
"Ah. You've…"
The snaky body swayed on the bed.
"You've certainly got a nice figure." Aziraphale thought about what he'd said. Had it sounded odd?
Crowley smiled. "Thankssss. Do you ever think about going into angel form?"
"No."
Aziraphale lay back. "It's very hot."
"Yess. Mind if I take my shirt off?"
"No… I hear they're working on an automatic shirt remover."
Crowley stared. "That will be useful," he muttered.
"Mm." Aziraphale watched the demon's slim, soft body twist out of his shirt. He couldn't help it. He stretched out a hand and just touched Crowley. Crowley lay back, as if this was a matter of course.
"Come and spread the word to me," whispered Crowley.
"That wasn't a romantic way of putting it," said Aziraphale. He sank down on the demon, kissing and caressing him.
"Merry Christmas angel," said Crowley darkly.