Chapter Text
At the Christmas market in London there were crowds of people who already wanted to feel the Christmas atmosphere. It was only the beginning of December but everyone was already waiting for Christmas. The Christmas atmosphere was intensified by the snow, which turned the sidewalks into ice rinks. The only person whom the snow and the cold did not make happy at all was Crowley. He never liked the cold. He felt it twice as strongly as humans. No jacket, coat or scarf helped. Additionally, because of the snow it was easy to slip and fall. Crowley did not understand all that joy but he let himself be persuaded to visit the Christmas market. He did it only for Aziraphale, who adored Christmas. No wonder – after all he was an angel and the very atmosphere of people’s happiness was good for him. Crowley, walking along the alleys surrounded by wooden Christmas booths, felt cold and an over-sweetness of joy.
“Is it far still? I’m about to freeze” Crowley muttered under his breath, looking at a booth where Spanish churros were being sold.
“Just a moment more” Aziraphale replied. “Try to get into the mood.”
“I don’t know what there is to be happy about here” Crowley said provocatively. “Big deal… how many times can you celebrate Jesus’ birthday?”
Aziraphale suddenly stopped, clearly offended. Crowley also stopped and looked at him.
“What to be happy about? Crowley, look around!”
Crowley looked around nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders.
“Er… I see consumerism and the falseness of people.” Crowley loved to tease Aziraphale. He always let himself be wound up so easily.
“They are nice to each other at least once a year. One has to appreciate that!” Aziraphale retorted with indignation.
“I personally prefer it when they aren’t,” Crowley said with complete seriousness, with his hands in the pockets of his coat.
“Demon…” Aziraphale grumbled teasingly and moved ahead, passing Crowley.
“Hey! That’s just my nature, I can’t help it,” Crowley quickened his step to keep up with Aziraphale.
“And I adore you anyway,” Aziraphale smiled and lightly shoved Crowley.
Crowley returned the smile. He still could not believe in his luck. In the fact that after so many centuries they could be themselves and nothing threatened them. If someone had told him that 10 years ago, 5 years ago… he would have thought them completely insane. But it was the truth, one he definitely did not deserve. When he was no longer afraid he felt as if he were flying. Suddenly someone pulled him out of his reverie by poking him. Crowley slipped and almost fell on the icy sidewalk. He turned around, stopping in surprise, and noticed some person in a black hood.
“Watch where you’re walking,” Crowley muttered, irritated that someone dared to disturb their time together.
The hooded person did not say a word. He stepped one pace closer to the surprised Crowley and handed him a small slip of paper, then, as if nothing had happened, disappeared into the crowd.
“Idiot,” Crowley said after him and looked at the paper he had received. It looked completely ordinary. As if it had been cut with scissors from some old book. Crowley was already about to throw it on the ground but something stopped him. Curiosity. He unfolded the crumpled slip and immediately felt his heart rise to his throat and all the voices and music in the background fall silent. He stared at the paper in shock, unable to move. His hands began to tremble involuntarily…
“Their love was a trial, not a gift. Hell likes to watch when the hand of man trembles”
Signed: Agnes Nutter
“What the fuck,” Crowley whispered, staring blankly at the paper. He heard cheerful Christmas songs as if through a wall. After a moment he slipped the paper into the pocket of his coat and closed his eyes, breathing deeply. Someone was making jokes. Some idiot was mocking him. A demon, a human, an angel, Santa Claus… he did not care who. It had to be a joke for a simple reason – Agnes had written NOTHING about what had happened a month ago. Not a word. So why would she write exactly now? It made no sense. Not her style. Crowley knew he could not let himself be provoked. He clenched his trembling hand into a fist and opened his eyes. Again he heard the songs and the hubbub loud and clear. Once more he took a deep breath and released the air, which turned into steam in the cold. He looked around, already less dazed. He had lost Aziraphale in the crowd but fortunately he knew where they were supposed to meet Nina and Maggie. He slipped his hands into his pockets and, slightly hunched, moved forward, pushing through the crowd, which had suddenly thickened strangely. After a moment he stopped mid-step, looking ahead. He did not want to tell Aziraphale about this stupid and cruel joke. Not now, when everything was moving toward the better. The situation was not serious, so there was nothing to dwell on. Crowley, knowing that he had to immediately find a good excuse for getting lost in the crowd, went up to a random wooden booth decorated with kitschy Christmas ornaments.
“Where did you lose Crowley?” Nina asked, already waiting with Maggie by the temporary ice rink at the Christmas London market.
Aziraphale looked at her questioningly and turned around:
“Er… he was here a moment ago.”
“Did our Grinch run away from the Christmas atmosphere?” Nina laughed.
“That he is a demon does not mean that he is the Grinch,” Maggie replied, not understanding the irony.
“So Crowley,” Aziraphale said expressively, searching for Crowley in the distance with his eyes. He became a little worried. Every longer disappearance of Crowley worried him ever since he learned about everything Crowley had been bottling up inside. Of course it was better, but the past never lets go one hundred percent.
“Alright. I’m going to buy the tickets,” Nina headed toward the ticket booth where there was quite a large line.
Aziraphale looked into the crowd, growing more and more uneasy. Something was wrong. He could feel it. Suddenly he felt a touch on his shoulder, at which he flinched slightly. He turned around.
“Apparently you felt like having mulled wine,” Crowley handed him mulled wine in a disposable paper cup with a Christmas pattern.
“Are you joking?” Aziraphale looked at him reproachfully.
“Er… I wanted to make you a surprise, angel,” Crowley gave him an innocent look, begging in his mind for Aziraphale to believe him.
Aziraphale measured him with a suspicious gaze and took the cup:
“Thank you… but next time don’t disappear so suddenly.”
“Scout’s honor,” Crowley raised his hand, then looked at Maggie with a smile. “Hi, where did you lose Nina?”
“I’m already here!” Nina came up to the three of them with tickets in her hand. “Ready for a double date?”
“For what?” Crowley looked at her questioningly.
“Oh come on already! How long can you deny it?” Maggie replied resignedly.
“But why deny it?” Aziraphale looked at Crowley with a questioning gaze as well.
“Excuse me, how old are you?” Nina looked at them pointedly.
“Some…” Crowley looked up, thinking about the answer. “I don’t know… around six thousand.”
“And you’re worse than high school teenagers,” Nina rolled her eyes and handed them the tickets, then headed with Maggie toward the entrance. Crowley and Aziraphale looked at each other amused, took each other’s hands, and followed them.