Chapter Text
Holiday Omens
Chapter One: Trim Up The Tree
Over the centuries, they’ve accumulated a lot of stuff. Aziraphale, of course, has his books and silver antique snuffboxes, along with other varying paraphernalia, and while Crowley doesn’t have the same amount of what he deems ‘junk’ (though never to his angel’s face) as Aziraphale ,he nonetheless has his own collection of soul music and vintage art, locked away in his safe. Or at least it was, until they found this cottage, moved in together, and began the wonderful and oftentimes scary process of opening themselves fully to one another.
It’s the second Christmas after the not end of the world, and this year has been so very strange, what with that horrible disease making the rounds. Crowley and Aziraphale, being immortal beings, of course can’t get sick, but Aziraphale had insisted they set a good example and go into lockdown along with their neighbors. Crowley doesn’t mind too much, he’s never been one for socializing, and he’s got more than enough to do between his garden and the multitude of projects he’s always working on, but it takes a toll on Aziraphale, who has, in the short time since they moved to this sleepy village in the South Downs, become quite the social butterfly, flitting from one group to another. Monday is the baking club, and Aziraphale comes home covered in flour and other detritus, proudly presenting the latest project to Crowley, who eats it without hesitation. Thursdays is Knitting, though Crowley’s pretty sure there’s less knitting and more gossiping, Tuesday’s is Book Club, and Aziraphale often comes home pickled to the angelic gills.
So when Lockdown is finally, finally lifted, Aziraphale insists that they go and get a tree and decorate it to the nines. Crowley agrees, and off to the tree lot they go, Crowley bundled up in the scarf that Aziraphale has knitted for him. The lot is bustling, people happy to be able to go out and be in the world at last, especially when said world was covered in a blanket of new fallen snow that made the trees seem to almost shimmer. Aziraphale warmly greets a few members of his clubs, and Crowley tries to remember manners and names and mumbles hellos. He’s tramping around in the snow when he spots the perfect tree.
It’s huge, and fat, and also the most expensive. He runs a hand across it, pleased when no needles drop off. It’s a blue spruce, and he leans in, inhaling the scent. Maybe he’ll trim a few branches off the top for some decoration on their fireplace. “Angel, found the tree.”
Aziraphale politely excuses himself and comes over, smiling. “Oh, it’s perfect.” Crowley calls the lot owner over and pays in cash, much to his delight, and once Crowley assures Aziraphale nobody is looking, they snap the tree to their cottage, already in the stand.
“Don’t see why we couldn’t have put it up ourselves.” The angel says as he fetches boxes marked ‘CHRISTMAS STUFF’ from the attic. Crowley snorts, pulling out a string of lights. Of course, they’re in a tangled mess, and Crowley snaps his fingers, untangling them. He starts to miracle them onto the tree when he catches Aziraphale’s pout.
“Wot?” Bless that Angel, he knows Crowley can’t resist the pout. “Angel, wot is it?”
“I just thought, since this is our first Christmas together, I mean, not our first first, but the first without...well, last year we had to spend it apart, and I missed you, and well, we’ve made such a wonderful home here, I thought, maybe...we could do it the human way?” He asks, lower lip jutting out, and bless him, but Crowley is a Sucker for Pouty Angel Lips, He sighs in pretend annoyance.
“Fine, whatever. Do you need me to get more boxes?” Aziraphale wiggles and smiles so bright Crowley is nearly blinded for a moment.
“No, I do believe this is all of them. Lights and garland on first, yes?” Aziraphale says, picking up the string of lights and placing them on the tree. Crowley dives into the monster sized box and comes up with red and gold garland, handing it over to the angel. Aziraphale takes it, then tears off a piece and drapes it around Crowley. “There. Now you’re all decorated too. My lovely serpent tree.” Crowley’s blushing too hard to speak any sort of human language. He hisses, and Aziraphale laughs in delight and kisses his nose.
“Angel!” Crowley hisses, ducking in on himself, still not fully used to this outpouring of affection. He’s loved Aziraphale since forever, true, but the angel had always been shy and reticent in his own affections, fearing what Heaven and Hell would do. Now though, he loves freely and unashamedly. “Get on with the garlanding, will you?” Aziraphale giggles and drapes the garland over the branches.
“You put on the first ornament, love.” Aziraphale says, and oh that word fills Crowley with such warmth that he feels it down to his toes. He reaches into the box and pulls out an ornament. It’s one he bought some sixty years ago, when he was on assignment in Prague, tempting a local politician to skim money from a charity said politician claimed to support. He had been walking down the street, thinking about how much he missed his angel, when he had spotted the ornament in a window of a shop.
It’s an angel, wings outstretched and hand extended as if in blessing. But the thing that made Crowley buy it is the fact that the angel, rather than holding a sword, or a trumpet, or any of the other various things Crowley’s sure angels hold, this one has a bundle of books tucked under one arm. Crowley had snapped it up without hesitation.
He tilts his head, then places it on a branch just above eye level. “Okay?” Aziraphale nods and selects his ornament next, a coiled serpent in blue and green that he had commissioned a century ago from a well known-at the time-glass artist. He had been over the moon at the finished result, and made sure that the artist and his family had the best Christmas they ever had.
“Looks nothing like me.” Crowley grouses good naturedly, running a finger over the blue snake.
“It looks exactly like you, foul fiend. I just loved the colors so much. I do have a red and black one as well, you know.” Aziraphale produces it from the box. It’s placed next to the blue green one. Crowley selects the next ornament, a small glass oyster, complete with little glass pearl, that Aziraphale had spotted in a shop in Tuscany, during a time where their assignments had coincided with each other. They had, of course, used the time to catch up, go out to eat, and get roaring drunk on Tuscan wine back at the villa Crowley was staying at. Aziraphale had insisted on going for a stroll down the main avenue, and Crowley had come along, pleased to be in his angel’s company. Even if it was bloody cold.
The oyster goes on a branch towards the back. “Have to decorate all of the tree, darling.” Aziraphale says, and Crowley wants to melt into a snake shaped puddle. The angel pulls out another ornament, this one in the shape of a flower. Crowley blinks at it, then gapes.
“That’s not...”
Aziraphale blushes and nods. “The first flower you ever gave me, in Eden. Remember?” Crowley gulps, gazing at the crimson petals done in glass. “I never forgot what it looked like, and I had this made, oh, so long ago.”
Crowley says something vaguely resembling words. He’s never forgotten that day. Aziraphale and he had explored all of Eden together, and as the sun went down Crowley had bent and plucked a flower from a vine, tucking it behind Aziraphale’s ear with a shy smile and a face as red as his hair. Aziraphale’s face had been equally red, and the kiss that he pressed to Crowley’s lips, quick and chaste, had left the demon reeling.
“Best day of my life, that was. Well, one of them. Was then that I knew I’d fallen hard for you.”
Aziraphale kisses him. “Mine too. Even Gabriel couldn’t ruin it. He kept demanding that I take the flower out from behind my ear, telling me it was unbecoming for an Angel of The Lord.”
Crowley grins widely. “What did you do?”
“Told him I wouldn’t, and that if it was so offensive to Her, She could damn well come down from On High and tell me Herself. Gabriel’s face was priceless.” Aziraphale says, grinning that bastard grin that Crowley adores. He throws his head back and cackles, the laugh going right down to his toes.
“Oh, Angel, I do love you.”
Aziraphale smiles brightly, sunshine happy. “Why thank you my dear, I love you too.” Crowley absolutely does not wiggle in snakey glee. He’s pretty sure his skin’s going to be permanently red, seeing how much he’s blushing. He dives back into the box and pulls out the next ornament, this one a wooden carving of an ark with teeny tiny wooden animals looking out. Aziraphale raises an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t think you’d want to remember the Ark, love.”
Crowley hangs it on a branch, eyes faraway as he remembers the rain, the sounds of people banging on the doors, and voices fading. “Well, yeah, it was rather shit, but...do you remember later, in the hold? I’d...um...” he pauses, and Aziraphale pulls him into his arms.
“You had a claustrophobic attack. I remember.” Crowley had gone into a hissing, writhing panic, nearly tearing his claws off in his attempts to claw his way out of the dark and tight space of the hold. Aziraphale had held him, calmed him down, and Crowley had attached himself to the angel for the rest of the strange, long months. “Think that was the first time I realized what a barnacle you are.”
Crowley stares at the ornament. “I made that one, you know. Took up woodcarving oh, about...two hundred? No, one hundred and fifty years ago. Been keeping it safe. For...well, always hoped we’d be able to do this. Spend Christmas together, have a big ole tree, lotsa ornaments on it, ones that, well, represent us.”
Aziraphale hangs an ornament in the shape of a vintage car, this one made of tin, on a branch. The car’s not quite the Bentley, but it’s close enough that Crowley doesn’t mind it. He works a subtle miracle, and the car obligingly becomes the Bentley. Aziraphale rolls his eyes but says nothing.
There’s more ornaments, made of tin and glass and wood and paper, ornaments that hold such deep meaning for beings that have been on earth since the start. There’s a bookshop ornament, given to Aziraphale by Crowley to celebrate the first Christmas of the bookstore, an ornament of a knight in black armor, and one in white, and several snake ornaments in varying colors and materials, coiled, slithering, hissing. At one point, Crowley goes snake and slithers into the tree, peeking out from the branches at his angel, who giggles in delight and kisses his nose.
Crowley’s not quite sure when it happens, but he somehow ends up wearing a pair of reindeer antlers while Aziraphale is decked out in a Santa hat. Christmas music fills the cottage courtesy of the holiday station on Pandora. Aziraphale sings along as he places ornaments, his face open and happy, and Crowley has never loved him more.
Now it’s time for the topper. Aziraphale reaches into the box and pulls out, not an angel, but an elaborately carved star. No, two stars. Crowley knows instantly what it is, and he kisses Aziraphale with a fervor that promises carnal pleasures later. Aziraphale squeaks and snaps the tree topper on, scooping his demon in his arms and carrying him into the bedroom.
The tree twinkles and shines, filling the cottage with memories of Christmas yet to come.