A Demon's Christmas
By Neev
A/N: I dedicate this to Taz, whose fault this is. May your muses be ever fruitful. And yes, that is a threat.
Crowley smiled in satisfaction. This would certainly be a Christmas to remember. The festivities, such as they were, started at midnight, Christmas Eve, and stopped whenever Crowley felt like it. Everything was set up perfectly, with only a few minutes before midnight. Which is not to say that it needed a great deal of preparation. Crowley's Christmas decorations were basically the same thing each year: a roaring fire, a comfortable chair, and as much alcohol he could lay his hands on. The only thing that ever changed was the location of the chair and the type of alcohol.
This year Crowley was quite happy with things. The liquor cabinet in his flat, which had been moved from its usual place in the corner and now stood in easy reach of his chair, was stocked to capacity. Anything that he couldn't fit in there was now clustered on the table sitting on the other side of the chair. The ottoman sitting in front of the chair suddenly discovered that it was, in fact, not an ottoman but a case of wine. The whole arrangement was sitting squarely in front of a fireplace that, up until roughly five minutes ago, had not actually existed in the flat. It didn't actually have a chimney but this did not seem to be hampering things overly much. The fire in it crackled away cheerfully, producing no smoke what so ever.*
With everything in place, Crowley flopped down in the easy chair and propped his feet up on the case of wine. He surveyed the vast sea of liquor that surrounded him with something akin to paternal pride. Something a bit sweeter to start off with he decided after a moment of careful consideration. He'd save the rot-gut for last when he couldn't actually taste it. With this decided Crowley grabbed a bottle of sherry and twisted the top of with a quick flick of his wrist. He toyed with idea of using a glass but past experience told him that it was pointless in the long run. Those damned shot glasses were buggerall to hit once he had a few drinks in him and they started moving around all funny. Better to just start out drinking straight from the bottle. Not only did it make for less waste when he started missing the glass, it also meant he didn't have to judge how drunk he was actually getting. That would mean the use of at least one of his senses and Crowley's goal just then was to disable as many of those senses as possible. If he was really lucky, he might be able to stop thinking too.
"Cheers," he said, raising his bottle to the fire in front of him. The fire crackled merrily. Crowley brought the bottle to his lips and took a very large gulp. The sherry ran down his throat, warming him from the inside. Crowley closed his eyes and smiled. This was the life. A warm fire, comfy chair, and loads of alcohol. Aziraphale didn't know what he was missing.
The smile faded slightly and Crowley took another sip of sherry, hoping to get the pleasantly warm feeling back. No luck, apparently he needed more than that. More than happy to oblige in this, Crowley took another sip.and another.and another.and another until pretty soon he found that the bottle was empty. Crowley's body felt pleasantly warm all over but his mind steadfastly refused to join the part. It still lingered on the thought of Aziraphale, who was out doing God knows what just then. According to Aziraphale, angels were very busy on Christmas. Crowley wasn't very clear on what exactly they did but it seemed to involve granting Christmas miracles and taking the souls of frozen waifs up to heaven.** The forces of darkness were naturally rather quiescent on this night, which was why Crowley always made it a point to get totally smashed on Christmas.
"It'd be a real miracle if he actually had Christmas with me." muttered Crowley as he reached for another bottle. He didn't even bother to read the label, just twisted off the cap and gulped down half its contents. Whatever it was it was a good deal stronger than the sherry he had just finished and Crowley nearly choked as it seared a path down his throat. Coughing, he leaned forward and set the bottle down on the table with a mental note to come back to it later or when he ran out of other stuff to drink. Whichever happened first.
Grabbing another bottle, Crowley leaned back into the chair, trying to get comfortable again. Despite the record amounts of alcohol around him, this was not shaping up to be one of the better Christmases. Actually, now that he thought about it, they never were very good, no matter how drunk he got. It was basically impossible for a demon (or angel for that matter) to get so drunk that they would pass out. Over the years Crowley had found that this took a lot of the fun out of drinking, at least when he was alone. Now if 'Zira were around, that would be another matter. At least then he had someone to have senseless, drunken conversations with.
Crowley sighed and finished off the second bottle.*** Aziraphale was probably enjoying himself too.
Out somewhere, doing good deeds or whatever it was he did. Crowley scowled. Not once in all the time they had know each other had they spent Christmas together. Of course Christmas was sort of a fundamental point of disagreement with the two of them, but it did get lonely, year after year. The Agreement didn't really cover Christmas but it stood to reason, at least in Crowley's mind, that they should be able to come to some sort of understanding about Christmas too. It would have been nice to get drunk with 'Zira for once instead of alone. After all, they had stopped Armageddon together. Didn't that count for something?
As he was mulling over this Crowley finished of his third and fourth bottles. **** He could tell that he was well on his way to being near- catatonic. However, the fact that he was still aware of this meant that he still had a long way to go too. High time to break out the really good stuff he decided. Blinking blearily at the labels he searched around for something with a kick to it.
Someone knocked on the door, causing Crowley to jump slightly. He turned slowly and blinked at the door. The person knocked again. Crowley blinked again, then pulled himself to his feet and staggered to the door. After two tries he managed to actually grab the knob, turn it, and pull the door open.
It was Aziraphale. He was holding a bottle of wine in one hand and wearing his patented teasing, "I've done a good deed for you, demon," grin. Crowley blinked and sat down hard on the floor. He winced and quickly sobered up.
"Is this your miracle for the evening?" he asked. Aziraphale shrugged.
"I heard you weren't having a party," replied the angel as he offered hand to Crowley to help him up. He was still smiling but it had become less teasing and more affectionate.
"Yeah," said Crowley as he grabbed Aziraphale's hand and pulled himself to his feet. "What the hell took you so long?"
* Possibly because it wasn't actually burning anything either.
** He was unsure if this happened at the same time or not. They seemed to be sort of mutually exclusive but like Aziraphale said, you could never tell with ineffability. He'd have to ask 'Zira about that some time.
*** Or third, depending on how you looked at it.
**** Or fourth and fifth if you're counting like that.
By Neev
A/N: I dedicate this to Taz, whose fault this is. May your muses be ever fruitful. And yes, that is a threat.
Crowley smiled in satisfaction. This would certainly be a Christmas to remember. The festivities, such as they were, started at midnight, Christmas Eve, and stopped whenever Crowley felt like it. Everything was set up perfectly, with only a few minutes before midnight. Which is not to say that it needed a great deal of preparation. Crowley's Christmas decorations were basically the same thing each year: a roaring fire, a comfortable chair, and as much alcohol he could lay his hands on. The only thing that ever changed was the location of the chair and the type of alcohol.
This year Crowley was quite happy with things. The liquor cabinet in his flat, which had been moved from its usual place in the corner and now stood in easy reach of his chair, was stocked to capacity. Anything that he couldn't fit in there was now clustered on the table sitting on the other side of the chair. The ottoman sitting in front of the chair suddenly discovered that it was, in fact, not an ottoman but a case of wine. The whole arrangement was sitting squarely in front of a fireplace that, up until roughly five minutes ago, had not actually existed in the flat. It didn't actually have a chimney but this did not seem to be hampering things overly much. The fire in it crackled away cheerfully, producing no smoke what so ever.*
With everything in place, Crowley flopped down in the easy chair and propped his feet up on the case of wine. He surveyed the vast sea of liquor that surrounded him with something akin to paternal pride. Something a bit sweeter to start off with he decided after a moment of careful consideration. He'd save the rot-gut for last when he couldn't actually taste it. With this decided Crowley grabbed a bottle of sherry and twisted the top of with a quick flick of his wrist. He toyed with idea of using a glass but past experience told him that it was pointless in the long run. Those damned shot glasses were buggerall to hit once he had a few drinks in him and they started moving around all funny. Better to just start out drinking straight from the bottle. Not only did it make for less waste when he started missing the glass, it also meant he didn't have to judge how drunk he was actually getting. That would mean the use of at least one of his senses and Crowley's goal just then was to disable as many of those senses as possible. If he was really lucky, he might be able to stop thinking too.
"Cheers," he said, raising his bottle to the fire in front of him. The fire crackled merrily. Crowley brought the bottle to his lips and took a very large gulp. The sherry ran down his throat, warming him from the inside. Crowley closed his eyes and smiled. This was the life. A warm fire, comfy chair, and loads of alcohol. Aziraphale didn't know what he was missing.
The smile faded slightly and Crowley took another sip of sherry, hoping to get the pleasantly warm feeling back. No luck, apparently he needed more than that. More than happy to oblige in this, Crowley took another sip.and another.and another.and another until pretty soon he found that the bottle was empty. Crowley's body felt pleasantly warm all over but his mind steadfastly refused to join the part. It still lingered on the thought of Aziraphale, who was out doing God knows what just then. According to Aziraphale, angels were very busy on Christmas. Crowley wasn't very clear on what exactly they did but it seemed to involve granting Christmas miracles and taking the souls of frozen waifs up to heaven.** The forces of darkness were naturally rather quiescent on this night, which was why Crowley always made it a point to get totally smashed on Christmas.
"It'd be a real miracle if he actually had Christmas with me." muttered Crowley as he reached for another bottle. He didn't even bother to read the label, just twisted off the cap and gulped down half its contents. Whatever it was it was a good deal stronger than the sherry he had just finished and Crowley nearly choked as it seared a path down his throat. Coughing, he leaned forward and set the bottle down on the table with a mental note to come back to it later or when he ran out of other stuff to drink. Whichever happened first.
Grabbing another bottle, Crowley leaned back into the chair, trying to get comfortable again. Despite the record amounts of alcohol around him, this was not shaping up to be one of the better Christmases. Actually, now that he thought about it, they never were very good, no matter how drunk he got. It was basically impossible for a demon (or angel for that matter) to get so drunk that they would pass out. Over the years Crowley had found that this took a lot of the fun out of drinking, at least when he was alone. Now if 'Zira were around, that would be another matter. At least then he had someone to have senseless, drunken conversations with.
Crowley sighed and finished off the second bottle.*** Aziraphale was probably enjoying himself too.
Out somewhere, doing good deeds or whatever it was he did. Crowley scowled. Not once in all the time they had know each other had they spent Christmas together. Of course Christmas was sort of a fundamental point of disagreement with the two of them, but it did get lonely, year after year. The Agreement didn't really cover Christmas but it stood to reason, at least in Crowley's mind, that they should be able to come to some sort of understanding about Christmas too. It would have been nice to get drunk with 'Zira for once instead of alone. After all, they had stopped Armageddon together. Didn't that count for something?
As he was mulling over this Crowley finished of his third and fourth bottles. **** He could tell that he was well on his way to being near- catatonic. However, the fact that he was still aware of this meant that he still had a long way to go too. High time to break out the really good stuff he decided. Blinking blearily at the labels he searched around for something with a kick to it.
Someone knocked on the door, causing Crowley to jump slightly. He turned slowly and blinked at the door. The person knocked again. Crowley blinked again, then pulled himself to his feet and staggered to the door. After two tries he managed to actually grab the knob, turn it, and pull the door open.
It was Aziraphale. He was holding a bottle of wine in one hand and wearing his patented teasing, "I've done a good deed for you, demon," grin. Crowley blinked and sat down hard on the floor. He winced and quickly sobered up.
"Is this your miracle for the evening?" he asked. Aziraphale shrugged.
"I heard you weren't having a party," replied the angel as he offered hand to Crowley to help him up. He was still smiling but it had become less teasing and more affectionate.
"Yeah," said Crowley as he grabbed Aziraphale's hand and pulled himself to his feet. "What the hell took you so long?"
* Possibly because it wasn't actually burning anything either.
** He was unsure if this happened at the same time or not. They seemed to be sort of mutually exclusive but like Aziraphale said, you could never tell with ineffability. He'd have to ask 'Zira about that some time.
*** Or third, depending on how you looked at it.
**** Or fourth and fifth if you're counting like that.