Notes: I was inspired by one of Wildenights prompts for the Gomens Holiday Swap to write this one-shot for them. Sorry that it's a little late. I hope you enjoy it. :)
"Darling?"
"Hmm?" Crowley mutters, barely glancing up from his task.
"Have I offended you?"
"No more than usual, angel."
"Ha … ha …" Aziraphale frowns at Crowley's kidding. At least, Aziraphale thinks he's kidding. But now is hardly the time for it - not when Crowley is putting their lives (such as they can be deemed) in peril. "Have I done something to upset you in any way?"
"Not in the past few hours."
Aziraphale swallows, his voice softening, fragile to the point of cracking. "Do you love me?"
Crowley's face snaps up. He glares at Aziraphale, lips twisted. "Of course I do!"
"Then …" Aziraphale eyes the black leather boots with shiny (and lethal looking) silver blades attached that Crowley has finished tying to his feet "… why do you wish to see me discorporated?"
Crowley hauls himself off the floor and sits on the bench beside him, tying his own pair of skates. "Don't be daft! I don't want to see you discorporated!"
"Maimed then?"
Crowley huffs and rolls his eyes. "Stop being so dramatic, angel! We're going ice skating!"
"But why go ice skating when there's a lovely restaurant right over there where we can get coffee and scones?"
"We just had coffee and scones. At that restaurant!"
"I know. That's how I know it's lovely."
"This is what humans do during the holidays. You appreciate cute human rituals," Crowley points out with a sneer, indicating that he does not appreciate them nearly as much. "I thought you might enjoy yourself."
"I also enjoy going about with my appendages unbroken."
"Don't worry …" Crowley ties a knot in his final lace and rises, rather skillfully, to his feet, making Aziraphale wonder if balancing on blades is a common talent amongst demons, or only for Crowley, which leads to him comically envisioning a frozen pond or lake covered in skating demons, spinning and jumping and performing feats of athletic grace while they spit fire and curse unsuspecting humans to eternity in Hell "… I'll hold on tight to you so you won't fall. But if you do manage to break something, I'll miracle it back together. All right?"
Aziraphale hums in disapproval. He isn't looking forward to any activity that might require he be reassembled by a demon. But Aziraphale has seen Crowley miracle dents out of his Bentley numerous times. Crowley can definitely do it.
"Yes, all right," Aziraphale relents, reluctant to relinquish the belief that he must have done something heinous if Crowley chooses to torture him this way. Crowley is more of a wily demon than a malicious one, ergo he'd probably want to see Aziraphale fall on his arse, look like a fool, not get injured.
Crowley takes Aziraphale's arm and leads him to the ice with such care, it confuses him. Perhaps Crowley plans on taking him to the center of the ice and stranding him there. He'd come back to the benches, miracle himself up a brandy, then sit and watch Aziraphale struggle to follow. And while Aziraphale racks his brain for a possible reason why, he overlooks the fact that they've started circling the rink arm in arm, slowly and smoothly. Aziraphale stares down at his legs, basically paralyzed, then to Crowley doing all of the work keeping Aziraphale upright and guiding him along. He gets so caught up watching their skates glide across the ice, trying to find a balanced spot, he doesn't notice he's doubled over, his nose nearly at the level of his navel.
"No need to stare at the ice, angel," Crowley says. "It's not going anywhere."
"Oh. Right." Aziraphale straightens, inch by inch becoming more comfortable in his current circumstances until he appears from the outside like he's doing something close to skating.
"There …" Crowley smiles at Aziraphale's flushed cheeks and cherry nose "… how's that? Nice, huh?"
"I … I suppose," Aziraphale admits. "I'd still rather be sitting somewhere safe. And warm."
"Next time I'll bring you a sled instead of skates so I can pull you around like a dog. How would that suit you?"
"If you're offering …" Aziraphale's left leg cramps from straining to remain immobile while his right gets ambitious and decides to push. He hits his toe pick and trips, flying forward so fast, stars swirl before his eyes. He tenses, assuming a crash eminent, but Crowley swoops in and braces him before he loses his feet. Aziraphale stares up at the demon holding him awkwardly in his arms. "Um … thank you."
"Don't mention it," Crowley says, putting Aziraphale back on his blades. Without another word, they continue along. Aziraphale takes a deep breath in through his nose and holds it, wary of doing anything more strenuous that may throw him off balance. But with Crowley's arm latched securely around him, he starts to relax, lets himself experience fully everything going on around him - the wind biting his cheeks and his nose, threading through his hair like fingers; the sound their blades make as they scrape along the ice; holiday music playing through an outdoor speaker from a shop close by; the savory smells coming from that restaurant Aziraphale is still carrying a torch for. Most of all, he's enjoying Crowley's arm around him, his strength keeping Aziraphale vertical, his warmth seeping through Aziraphale's clothes to his skin.
Aziraphale feels giddy in Crowley's arms. Brave somewhat. He raises a leg and balances on one skate. Crowley sees him and smiles, holding him steadier when that leg starts to wobble.
"See?" he says. "You're gettin' the hang of it."
"Yes, well, this shouldn't be too hard when you consider I can fly." Aziraphale lets go of Crowley's arm for a second and gives spinning a try, returning to the safety of Crowley's embrace after his first shaky attempt.
"Very nice, angel. Very nice. Maybe you can compete in the next Olympics."
"Been there, done that. You seem to be steadier on your feet than I am. I imagine you've done this before?"
Crowley shrugs. "Once or twice."
"Why don't you show me what you can do then?" Aziraphale asks, joyfully breathless and completely exhilarated. Why had he not attempted this before? How did he not realize how much fun this could be?
Well, the answer to that is quite simple.
Because a handsome demon had never offered to take him before. Now that he has, he must find an excuse for Crowley to bring him skating whenever they are able.
"Not this time. This time around my only job is to ensure your safety."
"That's awfully chivalrous of you." Aziraphale releases Crowley's hand to try his spin again. He performs it, but this time, the edge of his blade catches. His feet fly out from under him. He's sure he's going to land on his back this time, but out of nowhere, Crowley has his arms around him, holding him against his body for safe keeping.
And even after Aziraphale steadies himself, Crowley doesn't let go.
"Are you all right, dear?" Aziraphale asks when this embrace has gone on a hair too long to be considered helping anymore. Crowley doesn't say yes or no. He makes a noise in the affirmative and clings on tighter. Aziraphale does the same, holding Crowley around the torso and resting his cheek against his shoulder. He smiles when he feels them start to sway, as if they could be dancing, even though neither of them has moved an inch. They haven't gone dancing before either. They've barely held hands. Maybe that was the next thing on Crowley's agenda. This single embrace is the most physical contact they've shared in 6000 years of knowing one another.
And that gets Aziraphale thinking.
"Is this … is this why you wanted to go skating with me?"
"Mmm … maybe."
Aziraphale pulls back to look at Crowley's face, past the lenses of his dark glasses and into his beautiful amber eyes . "Dearest, if you wanted a hug, you could have just asked."
"Ngk … yeah … I know. I guess I was just afraid you'd say no."
"Why would I possibly say no? It is just a hug after all. Friends hug, and I dare say, we're more than friends."
"True but …"
"And … you said you love me. Correct?"
"I do. But I … I got the feeling that … for you … hugging might be a big milestone and all … seeing as we've known each other 6000 years and we've never once … uh … I didn't want to overstep … you know … because then we may never … well, we may never …"
Aziraphale gazes fondly at his ridiculous demon and sighs. He's in no position to do anything grand. He's still not quite steady on his feet. And regardless of his size, he feels a too strong breeze might push him over. So he rises up carefully on his toes, presses his lips to Crowley's, and silences his bumbling demon with a kiss.
Crowley stops, stunned, mouth slightly open, lips cold but wet from constantly nervously running his tongue over them. But seconds later, he pulls Aziraphale back into his embrace, holding him with arms so secure and sure, they may as well be made of steel. It's a simple kiss, but it nearly knocks the wind out of Crowley - a feat considering, as a demon, he doesn't need to breathe.
"What … what was that for?" he asks when Aziraphale tentatively backs away.
"Didn't you like it?" Aziraphale asks, the cold putting a twinkle in his eyes but that kiss making his face flush to the roots of his snowy blond hair.
"Yes, I liked it! But that's not the issue! It took me how long to hug you!? Wouldn't kissing be considered a much larger step?"
"Of course!" Aziraphale chuckles. "That's why I figured, if I got it out of the way, it might help you not be nervous about hugging me anymore!"
Crowley grins. Then he laughs out loud, relaxing into the body he's holding against his own. "I see your point."