The Perfect Gift
Aziraphale has never been one for change. There was a reason that he stayed in heaven, while angels like Crowley fell. He preferred to stick to the same routines, the same meals and even the same clothing - day in, day out.
That's why he was so upset when he dropped his favourite mug on the floor. Because it meant change. He started picking up the pieces with a frown on his face. A part of him wanted to miracle it back together, but deep down he knew that he couldn't. Heaven had cut off his divine power after the whole betraying them thing.
"Are you okay Angel? I heard a crash," said Crowley, making his way into the small kitchen attached to their bookshop. Aziraphale shook his head.
"I broke my favourite mug…" he mumbled. "I really liked that mug."
"Couldn't you just buy a new one?" asked Crowley. "Or the same one again, if you wanted."
"I would do but the Esty store I had bought it in closed down a year ago."
Crowley stayed quiet for a few seconds, almost as if he were deep in thought, before going to help Aziraphale clean up the spilled tea.
Four days later, a strange package appeared on Aziraphale's desk. It was a not an overly large package and was wrapped in crinkly white paper, complete with a silver bow.
"Crowley, there's a box on my desk."
"Yeah, it's a gift. For you," called Crowley from the other side of the shop.
Aziraphale turned the box over in his hands before going to untie the ribbon. Then, he carefully tore the paper and found a box… A neat white cardboard box.
"It's a box?" he said, confused.
Crowley laughed. "The gift's inside the box silly."
Aziraphale went to open the box and pulled out a mug, identical to his previous one right down to the feathers on the winged handle. Crowley made his way over. "Is it the same one?" Aziraphale mumbled. "How?"
"Yeah, it's the same make," reassured Crowley. "It was really hard to track it down the seller. I managed to convince him to make one last one though. There's just one tiny difference."
He lifted the mug from Crowley's hand and turned it around. Written on the side of the mug in the demon's signature scrawl was a message.
For my Angel.
From your loving demon.
"Crowley I… I…" Aziraphale couldn't make the words come out. Couldn't structure his sentences. Couldn't formulate the thank you. It was all too overwhelming.
Crowley rested his hand on his husband's shoulder. "I love you Aziraphale. I'm sorry if it's too much."
"No, no. I love it. It's the perfect gift."
It is at that moment that Aziraphale resolved to purchase a matching mug for Crowley. One with black wings, just like his. And he would add a little message for Crowley. Something kind. Something that let Crowley know how much Aziraphale loved him.