Mae Govannen everyone!

I usually don't write Christmas fics, partly because where I am never really feels like how I imagine a proper Christmas. It's too warm here for me to feel really festive.

But this year I couldn't help myself so here's a short little fluffy Christmas fic for all of you! I realise that i forgot to post it on Xmas Day here too so it's a bit late but better late than never, right?

Wishing you all a merry holidays!

See you all in stories

Namarïe

CHRISTMAS EVE:

Crowley wasn't a fan of Christmas in Soho.

The noise, the bustle... it rather reminded him of a certain group of nuns, but on a more global scale.

And then there was the fact that it was impossible for one to make it more than five paces down the street without half a dozen people first stopping you to wish you a merry time.

It was a bloody nuisance.

To make matters worse, even Aziraphale was participating- with little golden lights strung along the bookshelves and a wreath of holly and mistletoe hung on the door.

Or the dark, rich cake stuffed with fruit and brandy that the angel had baked only this morning.

Or the mulled wine. Now that, Crowley was looking forward to.

The rest? Not so much.

Somethings never changed, though. A fact that Crowley was pathetically glad of on those dark nights when everything felt a little surreal. And one of those somethings was the fact that yes, Aziraphale might wear a scarf on Christmas instead of his usual bow-tie, but that scarf was not red and green with lurid snowmen picked out on it.

No. It was tartan.

Surprise, surprise.

The air was a burn of chilly breath when he finally managed to duck back into the bookshop on the corner, bell tinkling behind him. He snarled at it, half-heartedly, plucking his glasses off his face. They were crusted with the faintest layer of frost. As a demon, Crowley was entitled to find this rather hilarious. Even if all it managed to do in the moment was get him annoyed. Demons didn't like the cold, and to make matters even worse, Crowley's demon form was a cold-blooded serpent.

It was a bit of a joke, really.

"I'm home, Angel!"

"Back room!" came the call, flustered and half an octave higher than usual. "Oh, bother..."

Crowley slid into the back, just in time to catch a toppling stack of heavy leather-bound books and keep them from pulverising his foot. "Ngggghh," he grunted, squinting at the closest cover. An eyebrow arched. "Don't you already have these?"

Aziraphale frowned deeply. "Not these editions, no."

"You know what? Never mind. I don't wanna know." Crowley righted the stack and played a rather twisting game of The-Floor-Is-Lava to reach the angel on the other side of the room. There were books everywhere. When he finally did, he dropped a warm kiss to one round cheek. "Hey."

Aziraphale pulled him into a hug. "Hello, dear."

Crowley sneezed. "Ach... 's a bit dusty in here, innit?"

The angel rolled his eyes. "So you say every time."

"'S a hint."

"Stop hinting then."

"Mmf."

Aziraphale sighed deeply, like a man on the very end of his tether. It was a 'what-to-do' sigh. An 'oh, forget it' sigh. A 'too-tired-to-care' sigh.

"Just a thought," said Crowley, cupping the angel's face in his palms. He tilted it up slightly so that Aziraphale was looking at him. "Maybe... you can leave this for tomorrow? 'S not going anywhere. Just... I dunno... take a break? 'S almost the end of the year after all."

"Oh..." Aziraphale blinked a few times, the fight draining from his body in one big shudder. Crowley thought he could hear the rustling of feathers like a ghost on the air. "Yes, alright."

Aziraphale allowed the demon to draw him into his arms, tucking his face into the warm hollow of Crowley's throat. His breath was a flicker of flame against the demon's fair skin, and it teased a shiver from him against his will. A soft glow heralded the appearance of the angel's magnificent wings- soft white down catching the lamplight. They fluttered, quiet as Crowley carded his slender fingers through the feathers, preening them with the care of one handling a glass flower.

Aziraphale let out a small contented murmur, hands tightening in the small of Crowley's back.

"Love you," whispered the demon, eyes closed as a wave of emotion swept over him like God's great flood. His heart felt like an ark- fighting the rising tide.

Aziraphale smiled- Crowley could feel it against his skin. "I love you too, my dear."

"'S not even his birthday!" said Crowley with a hint of exasperation. Flecks of snow drifted past as they made their way down the sidewalk. Alongside, traffic flowed like congealed syrup, the sound of horns a cacophony of noise.

"Can you say that for certain?" Aziraphale asked, slipping his arm through Crowley's, bringing himself closer to the demon. "After all, you weren't there at his birth, were you?"

"Nnnn... well, no," admitted Crowley. "But they could have gotten it wrong!"

The angel laughed softly. "You must admit, it is still very pretty."

The streets of Soho looked like they were paved with stars. Shimmering little lights of silver and gold. Sometimes even purple.

The snow was falling quicker now- ghostly specks in the velvet of the evening sky. Somewhere, down another street, some carollers were singing a rendition of 'Hark! the Herald Angels Sing' and Crowley smiled to himself in amusement as they continued on.

Saint James Park was glittering with lights when they arrived- wound about the trees, the lampposts. The ducks were eyeing it all with sleepy suspicion from the rippling of the water, clumped close together with their fellow waterfowl.

Crowley felt a little sorry for them. All this hubbub and noise... though if anyone still doubted that the birds in question had ears, they would have to believe it now.

People were congregating on the lawn, chattering and sharing drinks of steaming coffee or chocolate, even a scent of gingerbread caught Crowley's nose.

Aziraphale vanished into the throng for a brief moment, was gone long enough that Crowley began to miss his warmth and feel a tad miserable, before he reappeared with two bright red coffee cups, beaming with a self-satisfied smile.

It turned out to be cocoa. And while not as good as what the angel made in regularity back at the bookshop, it was warm and sweet and spiced with cinnamon.

"Remind me again why we're here?"

"The fireworks, Crowley!" Aziraphale took one of his hands and dragged him off along the path, heading for their usual bench.

It was empty.

A miracle?

Probably.

The angel and the demon settled themselves down, cheeks rosy with the cold. A small breeze hissed its way along the grass, rippling the water. Snow was gathering like a thin blanket on the paving at their feet, sparkling like an untold secret.

Crowley checked his watch. Nine o' clock and counting. Maybe they were late this year.

Humanity seemed desperate to prove him wrong on all accounts this year, however, and suddenly there was a 'whoosh!' a deafening BANG, and then an explosion of red and gold sparks.

Aziraphale gave a little hop in his seat, expression full of delight.

It made Crowley's heart ache, sometimes. How incredibly good the angel was. How the smallest thing could bring a smile to his face. How he'd fallen for Crowley of all people.

It sometimes still felt like a cosmic joke.

But if it was- if it was a dream his desperation has concocted to ease the pain- then he hoped that he'd never wake up again.

Aziraphale settled against him, letting out a little contented sigh as the demon slid one thin arm about his shoulders. "Some of the things humans come up with are rather lovely," he said.

He could hardly disagree there. Not all of humanity was shit. Only most of it.

Not to mention that Aziraphale looked rather human himself in his coat and scarf, cheeks pink from the cold.

The lights from the fireworks overhead danced across his face, highlighting that radiant smile. He was smiling at Crowley. A smile that said everything they could never find the words for, fingers threading through those of the demon, squeezing, and Crowley could feel the warmth of the angel like a smouldering coal.

"Oh, isn't it gorgeous," murmured Aziraphale, eyes shining with wonder. They reminded Crowley of his stars, gleaming on the background of velvet space. Small secrets of fire and light.

Crowley couldn't breathe, unable to drag his gaze away from that face that he knew so well. The only constant through six thousand years. The one thing he knew he could not do without.

"Mnmnyeah," he rasped. "'S beautiful."

Aziraphale turned to face him, realising that Crowley wasn't referring to the fireworks. The demon only had eyes for him as he leant in, resting their foreheads together. The angel gave him a gentle smile, eyes shining with something that looked suspiciously like tears. "Oh, Crowley..."

"I meant it then, I mean it now." Crowley brushed a trembling thumb over Aziraphale's cheek, gentle. Teasing the tear away. "I love you, angel. Always have. Always will."

And as the lights blazed, he ducked his head, sealing the promise with a kiss.

CHRISTMAS MORNING:

When Crowley woke, the light a dim glow through a frost-jewelled window, it was to a world blanketed in white.

Above him hung a soft canopy of feathers, rustling softly as the angel beside him breathed in the slow rhythm of sleep. Aziraphale's face was peaceful, his arms warm about Crowley's waist, and the demon allowed himself a small smile before tucking his face back into the crook of his angel's neck.

"Merry Christmas, my dear," came the quiet murmur, sleepy blue eyes twinkling in the winter's light.

Crowley huffed a laugh, curling closer. Perhaps this time of year wasn't so bad after all...

"Merry Christmas, angel."