"Have you ever thought about growing your hair out?" Crowley asked a few days later.

"Why?" Aziraphale asked in turn, hand absentmindedly running across the short hair he'd had for over 6000 years.

"Dunno, just think you might look good with it," Crowley shrugged.

"I think it looks better on you, dear," Aziraphale admitted. "Your hair was very pretty in Eden."

"Was it? Part of my devilish charm, I suppose."

"Perhaps. I do sometimes wish you'd kept it. I could have learned to...to braid it, or something."

"What?"

"I don't know," Aziraphale laughed. "Just rambling. When is Madame Tracy getting here?"

"She's downstairs," Crowley said, checking his phone. "Says she needs some help carrying things in."

"Ah. We'd better go help," Aziraphale said, standing up quickly. Crowley stepped forward, but Aziraphale held up a hand.

"I'm alright, dear. I'm feeling much better today."

As Aziraphale's vision finished graying out and came back to full capacity, he followed Crowley down the stairs and to the front door of the shop, where Madame Tracy stood holding a large plastic box.

"Good afternoon, boys!" She sang. "Help an old woman carry these up the stairs, would you?"

"You're not that old," Aziraphale joked, and Madame Tracy laughed. The three of them went back to the flat, where under Madame Tracy's guidance, Crowley and Aziraphale moved the couch and coffee table so that they could all sit on the floor. Madame Tracy opened the box and slid it to the center of the group.

"Grab a drum," she said.

Crowley and Aziraphale looked at each other and shrugged before leaning over. Crowley got a hexagonal drum and a mallet with a rainbow-ball tip, while Aziraphale got a pair of bongos. Madame Tracy got a round drum and a black mallet.

"Alright! Thank you both for having me over today. It's been awhile since I've done this but I took very good notes back in the day so we ought to be alright. We're going to be drumming to destress, and we'll do some meditation and breathing exercises as well.

"First, I want each of us to say their name and drum a beat, and then everyone will repeat that beat and their name. I'll go first.

"Ma-dame Tra-cy," she said, hitting her drum four times. She looked at the boys pointedly and they nervously joined in.

"Ma-dame Tra-cy. Ma-dame Tra-cy. Ma-dame Tra-cy."

"Now, one of you go. It can be any beat, don't be shy, just do what feels right."

"Crow-ley," Crowley said, hitting his drum twice.

"Crow-ley, Crow-ley, Crow-ley."

"A-zi-ra-phale," Aziraphale squeaked, hitting his drum five times.

"A-zi-ra-phale, A-zi-ra-phale, A-zi-ra-phale."

"Alright, now rumble!" Madame Tracy said, rapidly beating her drum. They collectively drummed for a few moments, before ending off on a single beat.

"Now, let's do a wave. I know there's only three of us, but we'll make do. I'll hit my drum, and then Crowley will his his, and then Aziraphale his, and we'll go around a few times."

They did so, awkwardly at first, but eventually they picked up speed, eventually stopping once Aziraphale jokingly complained that they were going too fast for him. They rumbled again, and then Madame Tracy told everyone to put their drums down.

"Alright. Now were going to sit tall, backs straight, and focus on your breathing. You can close your eyes or stare at the floor, whichever you prefer. Breathe in, and as you breathe in, remind yourself that it's a good day for you. Even if you don't feel like it's a good day for you, remind yourself that it's a good day. Now, I want you to smile, because just the physical act of smiling releases the chemicals in the brain that allow you to feel good. As you exhale, take in another breath, and remind yourself that you're in the moment. You are here. And this too is a good moment. One more time, breathe in, remind yourself that it's a good day for you, and smile. Exhale, breathe in, and smile. Exhale, breathe in, and remind yourself that you're in a good moment. Open your eyes, and bring your focus back."

She looked at Crowley and Aziraphale. "How was that?"

"A bit odd," Crowley admitted. "Smiling on purpose."

"I agree," said Aziraphale, "but I feel a bit calmer now."

"Good! You can use that technique if you feel stressed. Just the act of breathing out helps your brain to calm down if you're feeling stressed. Now then, one of you, give us a beat."

Crowley gave a three beat rhythm, one that everyone quickly realized was from a Queen song. Still, they kept on for a few minutes, until Madame Tracy got them to rumble again.

"Aziraphale? Do you want to give us a beat?"

"Er," Aziraphale hesitated, before drumming a simple 3/4 rhythm. They did that for a few more minutes, Crowley adding in his own flair, before they rumbled once more.

"Now, Crowley, tell me how your week has been."

"It's, er, been alright. A bit stressful, you know."

"And how does that sound with your drum?"

Crowley considered it for a moment, before drumming a beat that started slow, then sped up, then slowed down again. Aziraphale and Madame Tracy joined in. After a few rounds, Madame Tracy cut them off.

"Alright, so do you want a heartbeat or waves?"

"Er. Heartbeat?"

"Alright. Aziraphale, copy my beat."

She drummed a slow heartbeat, and Aziraphale copied her for a few moments.

"Your turn, Aziraphale. Tell us how your week has been with your drum."

Aziraphale hit his bongos so fast and so hard Crowley thought he might break them. He and Madame Tracy joined in for a few moments.

"Do you want waves or heartbeat?"

"Waves," Aziraphale said, a little out of breath. Madame Tracy showed Crowley how to make slow circles on his drum with his hand, making gentle wave-like noises.

"Alright. Now, set your drums down, and bring your focus to your breathing again. We're doing to do a visualization. I want you to think of a positive phrase or a positive word. It can be a motto, or a mantra, or a phrase from scripture, but something positive. I want you to see that word in your brain. As you do I want you to breathe slowly, steadily, and deeply. And as you breathe, I want you to visualize that word and see it in your favorite color. I want you to see it in a big bold font. And as you do that and breathe, slowly bring your focus back, open your eyes, or focus them again. How do we feel?"

"I feel like that one was harder," Aziraphale said. "I had a hard time choosing a word."

"I got a word, but it was harder to get it to stick," Crowley said.

"Perfectly normal," Madame Tracy said. "Different techniques work differently for different people. One more breathing exercise, and then we'll drum again.

"Close your eyes, and here's what I want you to do: Take one big deep breath in, hold it for a few seconds, and then let it out in one burst of air. We're going to do that ten times."

This one was easier for Aziraphale, though he did realize he didn't like breathing in so much as it made his stomach stick out a bit.

"Alright. Last time we're going to drum today, and then we'll do one last relaxation technique. We're just going to do a slow, steady beat, without rushing or getting louder, we're just going to follow my beat."

They drummed slowly and steadily, and Aziraphale focused on the deep sound of the drumming. He felt the sound waves vibrating his own drum and his clothes, he felt his heart follow the rhythm of the drums, and he lost all contact with the world, just focused on hitting his drum. Crowley, meanwhile, kept trying to speed up, and had to focus on not rushing, but he still enjoyed the simplicity of the drumming.

"Three...two...one!" Madame Tracy said before setting her drum down. "Now, bring your focus to your breathing one last time. Close your eyes.

"I want you to focus on breathing slowly, steadily, and deeply. And as you do so, I want you to visualize your favorite place to be outside. It can be a beach, it can be a park, it can be anywhere. The temperature is just right for you, and you can feel the sun keeping you warm. I want you to visualize the details. Are there any trees here? How many? What texture is the ground?

"As you visualize all this, remember to keep breathing. As you look around this place, remember that you are at peace. This is a safe place for you, and you can come back here whenever you need to. This is a place that makes you feel calm and at peace.

"Bring your attention back to your breathing, and bring your focus back here. Remember that you can return to that place any time you need to be at peace. Open your eyes and return to the present."

"I liked that one," Aziraphale said, smiling. Crowley nodded. "Me too."

"Good! Thank you both again for having me, I hope this helped?"

"Very much so," Aziraphale said.

"Excellent! Now, will you two help me put these drums back in my car?"


Safely back in the flat, Crowley sat the cardboard box Madame Tracy had left with them on the coffee table.

"I've picked some of these up over the years, but I've never used them. I figured you two would enjoy them more than me," she had said.

"What's in the box?" Aziraphale asked. Crowley opened it.

"Face masks, by the look of it. Bath salts, bath bombs, some scrubs...theres tea in here as well."

"Do you know how to use them?" Aziraphale asked. Crowley nodded. "I've tried a few before. The masks are fun. We could try some of this tonight."

"But I don't have a tub," Aziraphale pointed out.

"I do," Crowley replied, "if you're willing to spend the night in my flat."

"It'd be a nice change," Aziraphale admitted. "Let me pack some things."


The drive over was still nerve-wracking for Aziraphale, but he closed his eyes, laid a hand on Crowley's thigh, and took ten deep breaths, feeling a little better.

Thankfully the drive didn't take too long, and soon he was back on his own two feet, trying to control the shaking in his hands. Crowley carried the cardboard box upstairs to his flat, setting it on his kitchen counter. Aziraphale, meanwhile, plopped himself down on Crowley's couch, working to catch his breath. Crowley handed Aziraphale a glass of water and his angel chugged it.

"Are you alright?" He asked.

"Just a bit not," Aziraphale replied.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, dear. I just need a moment to rest."

"Ah. Got it. I'll make some tea and get that bath going. Any requests?"

"Chamomile, if you please."

"Got it. One mug coming up!"

He brewed a couple of mugs of tea and handed one to Aziraphale before walking to the bathroom and starting the tub. He walked back to the living room and pulled the bath bombs out of the box, setting them on the coffee table in front of Aziraphale.

"Pick one," he offered. Aziraphale looked them over and found a nice-looking sparkly blue one. "Is this good?" He asked. Crowley nodded. Crowley then set down a few options for face masks, and Aziraphale picked out one made with Dead Sea clay. Crowley grabbed its pair from the box and put the rest of the supplies away.

"Want to come put the bath bomb in?" He asked Aziraphale, who nodded, setting down his mug of tea. They walked to the bathroom, Crowley's tub miraculously big enough and deep enough for the both of them, and Crowley turned off the tap. He unwrapped the bath bomb and handed it to Aziraphale, who placed it in the water and watched, mesmerized, as it spun, turning the water a cartoonish shade of blue that shimmered in the light.

"We can do masks in the tub," Crowley said, "but we might as well get undressed first so we don't get mask everywhere."

"Ah..." Aziraphale had forgotten that clothes weren't part of bathing. When he showered, he usually either waited for a good day or just tried not to look down.

He turned to Crowley to explain his feelings, but Crowley had already taken his clothes off.

"Oh!" He said, somehow embarrassed. Despite having been around Crowley with his clothes off, he hadn't really...LOOKED at him in awhile. And, as much as he hated that he was even thinking this, he couldn't help but notice...

"What?" Crowley asked. "You didn't think I was ALL skin and bones, did you?" He patted his stomach, just barely squishy. "I've got a normal body, just like you. Nothing wrong with it. Now c'mon, before the water gets cold."

Aziraphale continued to hesitate, so Crowley came up with a better idea. "Close your eyes," he said. Aziraphale obliged, and next time he opened them the bathroom was dark, the bathtub illuminated with candles and containing a thick top layer of bubbles.

"Is that better?" Crowley asked gently. Aziraphale nodded. "Thank you, dear. I'm sorry for being so silly."

"It's alright, angel. I understand. I just wish I could help you see yourself the way I see you, because if you did you'd understand how handsome you are."

Aziraphale blushed and covered his face. "Stop," he said.

"Stop being cute!" Crowley joked.

"I'm not..."

"Yes you are, angel. Every inch of you is adorable. You're like a teddy bear." He sighed. "Me, I'm just a snake. All bones and angles and yellow eyes. It's a wonder I never gave poor Warlock nightmares growing up."

"Stop that," Aziraphale said. "You don't need to put yourself down to make me feel better."

Crowley choked, fumbling for a response, and Aziraphale stood and kissed him on the cheek. "I think you're very lovely. Always have. Now, let me get undressed and let's enjoy our bath, hmm?"


A few messy flirtations later, they were both in the tub, masks sloppily applied to their faces. Crowley had had the smart idea to get them both glasses of wine, and they were quite enjoying themselves.

"You know," Crowley said. "You've looked almost exactly the same since I first met you. Same hair, same style. You haven't changed much at all."

"Compared to you, my dear? It seems like every decade you change into something new."

"Aside from the 2000s," Crowley protested. "I was responsible for that fashion, but definitely not part of it. But that's not my point. What if She made you the way you are? I know we picked our corporations, but how much of what we picked d'you think we came up with ourselves?"

"You're not talking about free will? Because I would rather not think about that."

"Nah. We've got our own will and stuff. But still, we were made, right? And it makes sense that we'd be made a certain way. Gabriel looks strong and powerful because he's higher up. I'm scrawny and creepy because I'm a snake, the first one from Eden. Beelzebub looks like a swarm of bugs. You, dearest, were made to guard Eden, made to interact with the first humans, made to comfort and protect a child, antichristness aside. Yes, you're lovably soft and cute, but do you really think Warlock would have grown up the same if it had been Gabriel raising him? Do you think Adam would have held Gabriel's hand at Tadfield and stared down Satan?

"Gabriel hates how you look because he thinks he's perfect. And maybe he's good for what he does. But if the two of you swapped places he wouldn't last a day. He'd have humans from here to Scotland quaking in their boots trying to do a simple parlor trick of a miracle, and he wouldn't do half the good that you do. Gabriel performs miracles to fill a quota, you did it to genuinely help people. Gabriel would have fixed Anathema's bike just to get her out of the way, you made her bike even better and helped her get home safely."

Crowley frowned. "I had a point to all this."

He finished his wine glass and filled it up again.

"I guess what I mean is, you look good. I think you're cute. Very handssssssome. A sssssssnack."

"I think you've had too much to drink," Aziraphale chuckled.

"It's like that show Warlock ussssssed to watch. With the vegetablesssss. What was that phrase they kept using?"

"I believe it was, 'God made you special and he loves you very much'."

"Yeh. Like that, but right. God made you ssssssspecial and I love you very much."

Aziraphale laughed, leaning towards Crowley.

"I love you very much, too."

He kissed Crowley on the cheek.

"Oh, bugger! I forgot about the clay!"


Washed and clean, Aziraphale sat on Crowley's bed, letting his hair air-dry. Crowley had lingered in the bathroom to clean up the candles and clay, but was taking a strangely long amount of time.

"Crowley?" Aziraphale called.

"Just a minute!" Crowley yelled back. The door to the bathroom opened, and Crowley came out, hair down to his shoulders like it had been in Eden. Aziraphale gasped.

"What? Do I look alright?" Crowley asked.

"You look gorgeous as ever," Aziraphale breathed. "But you didn't need to go through all that Effort for my sake."

"No Effort at all, dear. Besides, it's nice to let my hair down every so often, pun intended."

He sat down next to Aziraphale on the bed, handing him a bin of hairties.

"Go on. Mess around."

"Are you sure? I don't want to hurt you."

"I'll let you know if you do."

"Alright..." Aziraphale ran his fingers through Crowley's hair, noting how smooth and soft it was. It smelled like pomegranates, too. Aziraphale rested his head on Crowley's shoulder, humming happily.

"Do you want to try braiding it?"

"I'll give it a go, but I'm not sure..."

"Did you ever get a chance to try bread-making back in Egypt?"

"Challa? Yes, why?"

"Same concept."

"Ah! Thank you."

Aziraphale set to work, carefully braiding Crowley's hair. He started humming something, a tune he'd learned at the same time he'd learned how to braid bread, and Crowley smiled.

"I don't think I can say enough how lovely you are," he said.

"You flatter me too much," Aziraphale blushed. He finished off the braid with a hair tie and leaned back, looking over his work.

"I think I did alright," he said. "Though I don't suppose you can see...?"

"Not very well, no. But I believe you, angel." He yawned, the bones in his back popping as he stretched. "Why don't we turn in? All the soaking has got me sleepy."

"Me too," Aziraphale admitted, yawning himself.

The two of them crawled into bed, spooning with Crowley in the front. Aziraphale wrapped his arm around Crowley's stomach, buried his face in his hair, and wiggled happily.

"Thank you for today, Crowley."

"Thank YOU, angel. I hope tomorrow is just as good. Sleep well, dear."

"Sleep well, lovely." Aziraphale kissed Crowley's neck. Crowley jumped a bit but settled down quickly, laughing at how easy it was to tickle him. Warm and cozy, the two quickly fell asleep, and slept solidly through the night.