First Of Many

by The_Glacian

Summary:

A series of fluffy one-shots.

Chapter 1: The One In The Bookshop

Summary:

A quiet evening with a book is Aziraphale's everyday pleasure. Just not when it's Christmas and Crowley's there.

Notes:

For the discord 30+ Fanfic server event, prompt 7: First Christmas Together. Fyi, to make it <500 words nearly killed me. Thanks for the challenge!

 

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Inside the bookshop, away from the bustle of overexcited people and cars mincing fresh coatings of snow, Aziraphale tried to concentrate on the book he was reading. 

Over and over his focus wandered either to the window where in a glow of ample Christmas lights he could discern that the snowfall showed no signs of dwindling or to Crowley who was giving the side of his head a stare from the armchair Aziraphale started to mentally refer to as his . 

Every so often the demon would let out a groan and writhe in his seat, the antique framework underneath him plaintively crying in tune with the winds outside. Yet Aziraphale refused to give either of these distractions his attention, hoping that the first one wouldn’t result in a blizzard, and that the second one would end up devoting his excessive energy to some other pastime. 

The latter appeared unlikely.

Adjusting his reading glasses, Aziraphale heaved a sigh and turned a page. The letters dragged before his eyes as he struggled through another paragraph only to realise he’d once again spaced out. He was obliged to start from the top of the page. 

The cardinal issue, he had to admit to himself as this time his gaze strayed to his mug on the coffee table, wondering whether he should get up and refill it, wasn’t the inclement weather or the restless company that without any demonic duties to perform couldn’t find any peace of mind. 

The issue was that it was their first Christmas together. Which surely wasn’t of great value to two immortal beings who’d known each other for over six thousand years.

Beside him, Crowley expelled yet another wordless complaint.

As Aziraphale drew a breath he didn’t need, he casually re-arranged the cashmere shawl around his neck before once more attempting to engage with the book. He might’ve grown too fond of his human side, finding earthly traditions rather charming… But wanting to celebrate was altogether a preposterous thought.

As luck would have it, jubilant voices drifted from outside, bursting out in Christmas carolling. Aziraphale’s gaze snapped back to the street where the heavy snowfall appeared to not have derailed the festivities. 

“We can go out if you want to, you know?” He heard all of a sudden. Upon looking over, he found Crowley watching him with full-blown snake eyes as he gnawed on the earpiece of his sunglasses. “I’ll buy you hot cocoa with an obscene amount of marshmallows. The way you like it.”

The fire in the hearth crackled softly, and the room felt warmer somehow despite none of them using their powers.

“We don’t have to, my dear ,” Aziraphale told him, albeit every atom of his ephemeral essence pleaded otherwise. “I know how you hate the cold.”

Popping the earpiece out of his mouth, Crowley slithered down from the armchair. “But it’s our first Christmas together,” he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world before extending his hand toward the angel.

 

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Chapter 2: The One With The Gifts

Summary:

Crowley takes Aziraphale out on a date. It isn't their first.

Notes:

For the discord 30+ Fanfic server event, prompt 2: Hot Chocolate. I know it fits a couple of other prompts way better but I already wrote for those, so chocolate it is!

PS. It's a direct continuation of the previous story but could be read as a standalone.

(this is NOT new, I'm just merging my last year's one-shots)

 

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“Why are you wearing so many layers,” Crowley enquired as he handed him his cocoa, warm breath billowing out between them. “Not like we need them.” 

“This body,” – Aziraphale indicated to himself before eagerly accepting the steaming-hot paper cup and taking a graceful sip – “can very much feel cold when my angelic powers don’t intercept it.”

A fleeting sign of amusement crossed Crowley’s face as he stuck his hands in his pockets and started walking. “I know, Aziraphale. What I meant was—” he said with a flourish, wiggling his way through a throng of mingling humans. For a moment Aziraphale wondered if Crowley intended to drag him into one of those cases of tossing arguments to and fro that never arrived at a single conclusion. Before he could give it much thought, the demon cleared it up by adding, “—we can’t experience cold if we choose not to.”

“Exactly,” Aziraphale pointed out, raising his voice over the swell of jolly Christmas music. “If we choose . And if I recall correctly, we decided to stay off of our respective offices’ radar until,” – he made a gesture that was supposed to indicate the exact amount of time – “well, the whole thing blows over is I suppose the correct expression.” 

Crowley turned his head to give him an arched eyebrow. 

“We don’t want to draw attention by performing frivolous miracles,” Aziraphale continued. “I’m certain they’re keeping a close eye on us. If we aren’t careful, it’s only a matter of time before they figure out we’ve tricked them. Let’s just keep a low profile for a while, shall we?”

“Oh, bugger that. It’s snowing, for somebody’s sake! What do you expect me to do? Freeze to death on a half chance Downstairs might put two and two together while watching us turn up the heat?”

As they broke out of the crowd and reached the sidewalk, Aziraphale finally caught up to the demon. “Don’t be dramatic,” he said, winding an arm around Crowley’s like they used to do lately. “Humans survived winters for centuries. Besides, there’s a nice alpaca sweater sitting in the bookshop. It happens to be all black and just your size.”

Crowley snorted. “Haven’t you just said ‘no miracles’ and then manifested a piece of clothing?”

“I didn’t manifest anything! I made it the old-fashioned way. Was planning to give it to you tomorrow, but—” Aziraphale started to explain until he found himself on the receiving end of an intense look. “Oh, don’t give me that . Being unemployed leaves me with too much time so I picked up a few hobbies.”

“Oh.”

Afterwards they walked in silence for a while. Snowflakes kept swirling around them, dusting Crowley’s flaming-red hair, peppering his skin and fading away. Aziraphale kept drinking his cocoa, the fear of having muddled everything up growing in direct proportion with the lack of coherent response.

“No one has ever made me anything,” the demon spoke up at last when Aziraphale stopped expecting him to, “thank you, angel.”

Chapter 3: The One With A Misconception

Summary:

Aziraphale doesn't have any plans for Christmas until he does.

Notes:

Written for the prompt Holiday Dinner Party in the 30+fanfic discord server... Where's the dinner you ask? If I wasn't obligated to keep it under 500 words, we might've found out.

Perhaps we still will?

 

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With the usual business of failing to collect rent and selecting the week’s offence to one certain demon’s musical taste taken care of, Aziraphale offered Maggie’s stricken figure a parting nod. 

Back at the bookshop in the upstairs bedroom, Crowley was sleeping off the strains of his unemployed existence. And since he was unlikely to be up without a substantial reason, Aziraphale wondered whether he could indulge in a perambulation through the streets of Soho before going home to invent one, when he heard Maggie call his name.

He promptly spun around. “Something the matter?”

“No, I just—I was meaning to ask, Mr Fell,” she said, a note of hesitation in her voice. “Are you and your partner busy this Sunday?”

Rendered equal parts nonplussed and intrigued by the query, Aziraphale sucked in a breath, eyebrows knitted. “What partner would that be, Maggie?”

His confusion didn’t seem to faze her. “The brooding dark one with mad driving skills, of course.”

“Oh, you must mean Crowley.” His hand falling from the doorknob, Aziraphale issued a stiff laugh. “He’s just a very dear friend,” he explained, omitting the complicated ins and outs of his relationship with the demon. Who, in an entirely unrelated case, now happened to be permanently residing in the bookshop, the evidence of which hadn’t gone unnoticed by the neighbourhood.

It was Maggie’s turn to look confused and, if Aziraphale was honest with himself, somewhat unconvinced when she said, “Right… I apologise then, Mr Fell, but are you and your friend free on Sunday? You see, Nina” – she motioned in the general direction of the coffee shop – “makes a big deal of celebrating Christmas. I was expecting a simple holiday dinner… but since we’ve already invited most of the community, I dare hope that you and Mr Crowley would be willing to attend as well?”

“It’s rather kind of you, but—” Aziraphale started, but she cut him off.

“Please Mr Fell, we’ve been neighbours for years, and we’d be happy to get to know you better.” Rushing out from behind the counter as if to persuade him by physical force should her arguments not suffice, Maggie folded her hands in front of her chest. “Please,” she said, eyes huge and pleading, “at least promise me to consider our invitation?”

Already buzzing to the tips of his toes with excitement he hadn’t felt since asking Crowley to move in, Aziraphale promised to do so with an affectation of nonchalance before proceeding towards the door. After all, he had one contrary demon to convince that attending a holiday celebration was not a complete waste of time. The moment he pulled it open, a sharp smell of coffee knocked into him, giving him an idea to swing by Nina’s place for a nice cup of espresso that might just be reason enough to get Crowley out of bed and soften his disposition in the process. 

Aziraphale smiled to himself.

He couldn’t wait for everyone to fall in love with his demon.

Chapter 4: The One Along The Way

Summary:

For someone who had never set foot on a train, Aziraphale was convinced its magic to be more than a mere flight of his fancy.

Notes:

Written for this year's prompt Train Travels practically last minute lol.

 

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“Do you—erm,” Crowley said with a hint of reluctance, “want to take the car again?”

‘Why don’t you take a train? You love trains,’ he’d told him once just to wiggle out of the prospect of Aziraphale driving the Bentley.

The demon hadn’t exactly been off the mark with his assertion back then since that specific means of transportation had come up in a few conversations over the centuries (or since trains had been invented, to begin with). What Crowley didn’t know was that most of those mentions had been rather observational on Aziraphale’s part, expressed to make either a particular point in a discussion, or as an allusion to something fascinating he’d read in a book that he’d felt desperate to share with Crowley. 

Truth be told, despite being an entity with a debatable capacity for emotions, Aziraphale considered trains inherently romantic. How could he not? Sequestered in a compartment of the carriage with the endless stretch of railway tracks and the soothing thrum of wheels underneath, one could hardly fail to sense its magic. Engaged in a pleasant conversation, one could soak in the comfort of one’s company with little distraction, aside from the glimpses of scenery rolling by.  

For someone who had never set foot on a train, Aziraphale was convinced it to be more than a mere flight of his fancy.

Old-fashioned as he was, he secretly believed that in those moments strangers happened to strike up relationships they hadn’t anticipated before their journey while travelling companions who already shared a bond of some sort grew yet a tad closer. The earthly magic of a railway adventure would catch them off guard, fizzling in the air like bubbles in a freshly poured glass of champagne. But over the sounds of the vanishing spacetime across an evolving landscape, no one noticed it.

One could hardly find that kind of magic in a car (what with Crowley’s less-than-safe driving proclivities).

“Come with me,” Aziraphale blurted out before he managed to give it a proper thought. His whole being lit up with anticipation. “I realise a holiday book festival isn’t quite your scene but—”

“I thought you didn’t want me there…”

“—we’ll leave Bentley at home and go by train… What ?”

One of Crowley’s eyebrows arched over the rim of his shades before he snatched them off his face to give Aziraphale a pointed look. “Why on Earth would we do that when we have a perfectly nice car at our disposal?”

“Because—” he started, but one half-formed reason on the tip of his tongue refused to be forced past his lips. 

Perhaps, over time that aching feeling beneath his breastbone was getting harder to ignore, and as satisfied as Aziraphale was with their current arrangement, he sometimes wondered if there could be more to it. 

Perhaps at this stage, he felt inclined to find out.

“Because you know how I love trains,” he ended up saying, “And besides… I’m rather in the mood to try something new.”

Notes:

Thank you for reading! ❤

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of 30plusFanfic December Event