Work Text:
Thanksgiving 2025
The last of the fallen autumn leaves skitter across the road in front of Aziraphale’s car as he pulls up outside his apartment. The wind is picking up properly now.
Aziraphale cuts the engine and just sits for a moment, cold anxiety seeping into his bones. He feels the familiar tightening in his chest, the narrowing of his field of vision, all of the usual early signs of a panic attack. Before it can take hold, he does his box breathing - inhale four, hold four, exhale four, hold four – and it staves off the panic for now, though he knows it’s only a matter of time before it comes back.
Aziraphale manages to get out of the car, grabbing his phone and backpack and quickly walking up the path to his front door, huddling against the cold wind. He looks at his phone and sees that two text messages came in while he was driving. After seeing that one of them is from Gabriel, he feels both dread and hope rise in his chest. Unlocking the door and stepping inside, he drops his keys in the bowl and his backpack on the ground, then slumps against the door to read the message.
Gabriel: Sunshine, do not show up at my place without calling again. We both need time and space to think and I can’t do that when you’re here.
Aziraphale closes the text message chain, trying to ignore the drop in his stomach. Did he think that Gabriel was going to change his mind? Gabriel never changed his mind. When his mind was made up, it was made up.
But deep in his foolish heart, Aziraphale still hopes.
His knees give way and he sinks to the floor, his back still pressed against the closed door. The panic washes over him again with a vengeance, and this time his breathing is no match for it.
Some time later, the panic begins to subside, slowly. Aziraphale is shaking, his muscles tight and tense and his back aching where it was pressed against the door. His face is glazed with tears and his head aches. He manages to flex his hands and feet, loosening himself up enough to stand. He carefully steps down the hallway into the bathroom and begins running himself a hot bath into which he sprinkles Epsom salts and a few drops of essential oil. These additions to the hot water always make him feel better after one of his panic attacks. Or, as Gabriel likes to call them, his little episodes.
Before getting into the bath, and with a certain amount of trepidation, he looks at his phone again, remembering that there had been a second message that he didn't read.
Mom: We are worried about you, dear. We just had a cancellation for Thanksgiving; come and stay in the empty room! You’re off school all week and it will help you keep your mind off things.
Aziraphale considers this offer as he soaks in the bath. He and Gabriel were supposed to go to Gabriel’s family Thanksgiving this week, but it is safe to say that those plans have changed.
Aziraphale had been immensely looking forward to getting out of town. While it would be lovely to get out into the country and to see his parents, he isn’t sure he wants to be around the various Thanksgiving guests and the staff members at the bed and breakfast.
Aziraphale sighs deeply and gets out of the bath. He goes about his nightly routine, brushing his teeth (Gabriel’s toothbrush is next to his in the cup), putting on his pajamas (Gabriel’s pajamas are next to his in the drawer), plugging his phone in to charge (a picture of he and Gabriel on the 4th of July that year is on the nightstand). With a stab of anger, he slams the photo face down, then picks up his phone.
Mom: We are worried about you, dear. We just had a cancellation for Thanksgiving - come and stay in the empty room! You’re off school all week and it will help you get your mind off things.
Me: That sounds lovely. May I come up tomorrow after school?
Aziraphale presses send and feels just a little bit better. He snuggles down into his bed, pointedly rolling away from Gabriel’s side. The panic attack wrung every last bit of strength out of him, and he falls into a deep sleep.
Aziraphale gets through the final day of school before break in the same way he has gotten through the last two weeks, ever since Gabriel asked for a break from their relationship - he crams it all into a box in his head and pretends it isn’t happening.
This technique works quite well at school, when he’s distracted by the classes that flow in and out of the library for their rotation lessons, as he reads aloud to the younger classes and helps the older kids check out chapter books for the long break ahead. He is especially fond of his final class, the fifth graders who will be moving on to middle school next year. They swarm around him, excitedly showing him the books they chose, and he laughs along with Adam and Pepper as Wensleydale proudly shows off his copy of Cheese and Culture, where he has found a section on his namesake cheese.
Waving goodbye and wishing them a Happy Thanksgiving, Aziraphale breathes a sigh of relief. He loves his job, but days before breaks are always a special kind of crazy. He spends the rest of his contract day putting away books left on the carts, and at 3:40 on the nose he’s out into the chilly autumn air and into his car.
Aziraphale packed his bag before leaving the apartment this morning, knowing he would want to get on the road straight away so as to make it on time for dinner. He stops briefly for gas and then he’s on the road, Omaha melting out first into sprawling suburbs and then into recently harvested fields as far as the eye can see.
Aziraphale is calmed by this sight, as he always is on the two hour drive to his family’s bed and breakfast. It helps soothe some of the heartache from the past two weeks. The anxiety is still there, but it is drowned out by the lull of the wheels under the car, the whistle of the wind, and Beethoven drifting out of the car speakers. The drive goes by quickly and before he knows it, he is driving down the long gravel road leading to The Flaming Sword.
The massive brick country home sits at top of a hill full of grass and wildflowers that are a riot of color in the spring and summer but lay brown and dormant now. The sun has already set far enough that it has disappeared on the other side of the house, but at just the right moment each winter night, when the sun is at the right angle in the southern part of the sky, the sun catches the windows and makes the brick house look alight with flame.
It’s a gorgeous sight - it is part of the inspiration for the bed and breakfast’s name and is responsible for much of the business that comes in during the autumn and winter months as people come from all around the state to witness the spectacular and unique sunset. A picture of the house surrounded by snow and photographed at just the right moment made it into Better Homes and Gardens last year, and was responsible for Aziraphale’s parents being able to renovate the house and expand the restaurant, cannery and event barn that are part of the property.
The other inspiration was less widely known but no less special to Aziraphale. He had been named for a very obscure angel of Hebrew origin that supposedly guarded the eastern gate of the Garden of Eden with a flaming sword after Adam and Eve were cast out. The history and lore behind this were questionable, but it had become a family joke over the years. When it came time to name the bed and breakfast, the choice had been rather obvious.
The drive splits into two at the bottom of the hill, one side leading to a parking lot and the main entrance of the bed and breakfast, the other side leading to the expansion in the back that includes the family and staff lodging. Aziraphale pulls up next to the side door to his parent’s house and gets out, stretching out muscles that are a bit tense from two hours of driving.
Suddenly the screen door bangs open and a bundle of energy with a mop of brown hair runs out to tackle him in a hug. “Aziraphale!” Muriel exclaims as they squeeze him so tightly Aziraphale feels his back cracking. “It’s so good to see you!”
Aziraphale’s spirits are automatically lifted at the sight of his baby sibling. He never realizes how much he misses them until he comes back home. They have a surprisingly close relationship despite the 15 year age gap. Aziraphale's parents never use the term "surprise" or "accident" when referring to Muriel's unexpected birth, because Muriel has always been the best of blessings.
Aziraphale responds with enthusiasm and spins Muriel around, earning an excited squeak, then sets them back down and ruffles their hair. “Hey kiddo! It’s so good to see you too! How’s school? What are you reading right now?”
Muriel, cheeks pink and eyes bright, says, “We just got done reading To Kill a Mockingbird in eighth grade English, and on my own I’ve been reading through The Hunger Games now that the new book is out. I think there's some great parallels between Harper Lee's use of the mockingbird and the mockingjay in the Hunger Games series and I've been dying to discuss it with you!"
At this, Aziraphale laughs heartily and leans down to give them another hug. "Sounds great, kiddo, but let's have dinner before we have any deep literary discussions." As if on cue, his stomach gives a hearty rumble. Muriel laughs and they both turn to go inside to find their mother standing in the doorway, watching the two of them with joy in her eyes.
"Hello, Aziraphale," Sarah Fell says warmly. "Come here and give your old mom a hug."
Aziraphale obliges, feeling himself melt into her arms. It feels so good to be home, to smell the wood smoke in the chilly air and the scent of his mother's perfume as she hugs him tight. He can already tell that it had been the right choice to accept her invitation.
She releases him and looks up into his face. Sarah is a very short woman and Aziraphale outgrew her years ago. "And how are you doing, my dear?" she asks softly.
The question is a loaded one and they both know it. Aziraphale doesn't want to get into it now, so he says, "I'm okay, Mom. Working through it."
Her gray eyes flash doubt, but she seems to accept it, for the time being anyway, and they all troop through the open doorway into the warm house beyond.
As the bed and breakfast business expanded, his parents decided that the family needed more privacy than was afforded by living in the main house, so they had a modest and cozy house built adjacent to the bed and breakfast. It had been a lovely way to grow up.
As a young boy, Aziraphale had loved the hustle and bustle of the different seasons on the property and getting to know the regular guests over time. He had also been friendly with many of the staff members over the years, particularly the chefs at the restaurant. He spent an inordinate amount of time hanging around the kitchens, hoping for samples of the latest dishes and chatting about his favorite books with the kitchen staff.
The kitchen in the small house was not nearly as extravagant as the one in the main house, but Aziraphale feels comfortably surrounded by memories here too. Aziraphale's father, Daniel, sits at the kitchen table, his beard-wild face bent over accounting ledgers, his burly figure looking menacing to anyone who didn't know his kind heart beneath.
Daniel raises his head and his blue-green eyes, the ones Aziraphale inherited, take in his son. They crinkle at the corners as he smiles and stands up, exclaiming, "Aziraphale, I didn't hear you come in! It's wonderful to see you!"
Aziraphale accepts a hug from his father too, feeling the same warmth as he did in his mother's embrace. There is no place quite like home.
One delicious pot roast and two glasses of wine later, Aziraphale is feeling relaxed and happy for the first time in a long while. The conversation flows easily, Aziraphale and Muriel sharing stories from school and their parents sharing the latest from around the bed and breakfast.
The Fells have recently paired with a local farm from which they are able to source all of their meat. This makes them fully farm-to-table, as they grow all of their own produce on the property already, much of which is currently in the cannery.
Daniel, his face ruddy over his third glass of wine, says "Pairing with the farm has been such a success that we have had to shift to reservations only at the restaurant. I don't feel great about it, but if we want to keep all the food locally sourced and fresh, it's been our only option. Luckily, our new chef seems to be up to the challenge. He keeps the reservations lists booked for weeks in advance on reputation alone!"
Aziraphale, surprised, says "What happened to Jack?" Their longtime chef had been around since Aziraphale was in high school.
"He retired earlier this summer," says Sarah. "He turned 70 last year; it was time. He's been quite content to spend more time with his grandchildren."
Aziraphale considers this. "I suppose that makes sense. Who is the new chef?"
"His name is Anthony Crowley. Good lad, been doing a heck of a job so far," says Daniel. "He's up for his first real test this week, though- Thanksgiving at The Flaming Sword is no small feat."
Aziraphale's mouth waters at the thought of the Thanksgiving meal awaiting him this week. "I look forward to it immensely, as always," he says.
For awhile, they sit quietly and sip their wine. Then, Sarah glances at Muriel. "Dearest, I wonder if you could give us a minute alone with Aziraphale."
Muriel, ever the perceptive one, brooks no argument. They say, "Of course. I want to go read anyway!" They hop up and kiss both their parents on the cheek, patting Aziraphale's shoulder as they leave.
Once Muriel is out of earshot, Sarah gets right to the point. "Aziraphale. How are your panic attacks?"
Aziraphale doesn't speak for a moment. He takes a fortifying sip of wine, then says, "Not bad, but not great either."
Sarah and Daniel share a look. "And Gabriel? Is he still…." Sarah asks, leaving the question open-ended.
"He still wants to take a break. He thinks we need time on our own to consider what we want. The thing is that I already know what I want." Aziraphale says brusquely, brushing away a tear that had traitorously decided to fall down his cheek."It's all I've ever wanted…."
The truth is that Aziraphale wants - this. A house to live in with the person he loves, a family to come home to and to watch grow up. He wants to be a parent like his parents are - loving, kind, supportive, and warm. It is never more evident to him than when he's at home that this is the life he wants to live.
Sarah gets up and takes the seat across from Aziraphale, reaching out to take his hand in hers. "Sweetheart - I know that's what you want. I know. But if Gabriel doesn't want what you want, then maybe it is time to consider ending the relationship and finding someone who does."
Aziraphale sniffles and says, his voice cracking, "But up until now, he's been perfect for me. He's truly a wonderful man. He's successful and smart and I know he'd be a great dad. I thought we were on the same page when we first started dating."
Aziraphale has to stop as the unfairness of it all washes over him. "Mom…it's so hard to meet men like him, that aren't already in a relationship AND are interested in settling down and having children. I'm not getting any younger, and adoption and surrogacy takes so long, and there's no guarantees. I'm afraid that I will miss my chance to have a family if it doesn't work out between us."
She squeezes his hand lightly. "I know it's hard, sweetheart. I know. But you deserve to be with someone who wants the same things as you. No matter how perfect he seems on paper, your happiness is far more important. And remember - your old mom had Muriel 15 years after she had you and it was one of the best things to happen to us." She and Daniel share a knowing smile.
Aziraphale is comforted by this, he truly is. But it doesn't stop the panic from simmering beneath the surface. Taking a deep, shaky breath, he says, "Thanks Mom. Thanks Dad. I appreciate your support more than you know."
Then, steeling his resolve, he says, "There must be a way to convince Gabriel to stay, for him to see things my way. I'm sure there's a way to fix things."
With an effort, he smiles and makes to stand up. "I dare say it's probably time to turn in, it's been a long week at school and I'm looking forward to not having to set an alarm tomorrow!" His voice sounds falsely cheery to his own ears.
"But- " begins Sarah, her sentence cut off as Daniel shoots her a quelling look.
"Later," Daniel mouths at Sarah, and to Aziraphale he says, "We have the Reading Room set up for you. It's lucky that was the one that was cancelled!"
At this, Aziraphale's false cheer dissipates as real happiness takes its place. The Reading Room is his absolute favorite of the themed rooms at The Flaming Sword. The walls are surrounded in floor to ceiling bookshelves, and they house an eccentric variety of books - some from the Fell's own collection, some gathered from various garage and estate sales over the years - and it creates a very cozy atmosphere.
Aziraphale knows Sarah will want to continue this conversation, but he is grateful to his father for stopping her for now, as he is truly exhausted and feels unable to handle her over-zealousness at present. He hugs Sarah and takes the key to the Reading Room from his father, stopping to grab his suitcase from the car before heading up to the main house.
After unlocking the front door, he makes his way up the large main staircase, which creaks noisily under his feet. It is part of the charm of the house, built in the 1930's, that most of its original architecture is preserved, but it does make for noisy staircases. He hopes that he doesn't wake up anyone in the house.
Opening the door to the Reading Room, Aziraphale breathes in the musty scent of books, and his sense of homecoming is intensified. He spent every second of his childhood, when this room wasn't occupied by guests, perusing the shelves and sitting curled up in the armchair in the corner, losing himself in the wonderful world of literature. His love for good stories is something that stays with him to this day.
Aziraphale's eyes fall on the jacuzzi tub in the corner next to the bathroom door. This was a recent upgrade to the rooms at The Flaming Sword, and he is immensely looking forward to six days of reading in the large tub. He's hoping it will relax his mind and help him come up with a plan to win Gabriel back.
Unbidden, his mother's question comes back to him as he goes about unpacking and setting up his toiletries in the bathroom.
Aziraphale. How are your panic attacks?
The question stirs an unease in him. He rarely ever lies to his mother. He never did as a child, not because he was afraid of her anger if he did, but because he knew with a bone deep certainty that his parent's love was unconditional and he was safe with them, even when things got difficult.
The truth that he doesn't want his mother to know is that he lied to her about the panic attacks. He told her they started about a year ago, but that's not the truth. It's been more like six months.
Which is about how long he and Gabriel have been dating.
Shaking his head vigorously, he tells himself the same story he's been telling himself for the past six months.
My panic attacks happen because I'm afraid to lose Gabriel, to lose my chance at a family. That's the explanation for the timing.
He's just afraid his mother won't see it that way, and it is this thought that has him avoiding the subject. Because in the end, Gabriel is wonderful. Anyone would want to be with him. Aziraphale was not lying when he said that he would make a great dad.
Sighing, Aziraphale gets ready for bed, pausing only to grab a battered copy of The Shining from the shelves. Nothing like immersing himself in one of his favorite stories to get his mind off things.
Aziraphale sleeps fairly well, although he does wake up at the time his alarm would normally go off on a school day. He dozes for awhile and then, restless, gets up and goes for a long walk around the property followed by a long soak in the tub. By the time he's done he has missed proper breakfast, but he finds pastries and coffee in the foyer and gladly devours them while sitting by the large bay window.
He is just considering what to do next and wondering what his parents and Muriel are up to when, with a thrill, he hears a familiar voice floating up the hall. It's coming from the side entrance, where most people come after checking in with the concierge, Tracy, at the front desk.
It sounds like Tracy herself is with them, because he hears her say, "I think you will both enjoy your stay immensely. There's a lot of history in this old house, and she has plenty of stories to tell! Are you going to be here through Thanksgiving?"
Gabriel's voice answers. "That's the plan!"
Aziraphale, for one shining moment, feels an excited swoop in his stomach and thinks to himself, Gabriel is here! He's come to tell me he wants me back and we are going to spend Thanksgiving together with my family!
Then, quickly as it came, all of his excitement drains away when he hears a third, slightly cold voice say, "My editor expects a full review of the amenities around the holidays, so we will be here through Friday morning. Gabriel, my boyfriend, will be staying with me."
Tracy responds, but Aziraphale doesn't catch what she says, because there is a roaring in his ears and his hands have begun to shake. His brain is a swirling mass of panic, embarrassment and shame, and his only coherent thought is-
I have to get out of here.
Aziraphale stands up on wobbly legs and on instinct turns towards the door to the kitchen. He barely makes it across the threshold when he hears the voices enter the foyer. Slamming the kitchen door behind him, he stumbles to the far side of the large room, where he collapses against the large pantry door and slides to the ground, chest heaving and breaths coming in short pants, his thoughts whirling a mile a minute.
Gabriel is here.
Gabriel is here with someone else.
He asked for a break and he's using it to stay with someone else AT MY FAMILY'S B and B!!
Confusion and pain grip Aziraphale's head and he forgets to breathe. The panic attack takes hold completely and he loses himself, his eyes squeezing shut and his muscles tight as piano wire.
Some time later, he becomes aware of someone talking to him, the voice unfamiliar but gentle and low.
"Hey. Hey, you're okay. Can you breathe with me? Come on, right with me now. Inhale four, hold four, exhale four, hold four. Let's do it together, come on…."
Dimly, as though from far away, Aziraphale feels the stranger grasp his hands where they are clenched together in his lap. The hands on his are warm and dry and comforting.
Aziraphale hears the stranger breathing exaggeratedly through his nose and exhaling in a similar fashion, and without conscious thought he mimics them. They breathe together, and gradually Aziraphale feels his heart rate slowing and the tightness in his chest releasing itself.
Aziraphale slowly opens his eyes to find a pair of golden amber ones looking at him with concern. The eyes are framed in long lashes and there is a smattering of freckles like stars in the sky across the man's high cheekbones. The stranger has long red hair, currently tied up in a bun and contained under a chef's hairnet.
He is, without question, the most beautiful man Aziraphale has ever seen.
This thought nearly sends him back into the panic attack, but then the man says, "There you are," so softly, so gently, and Aziraphale is soothed by the pure tenderness in his voice.
The man keeps looking steadily at him with those warm eyes, and there is a sureness to his gaze, a steadiness that Aziraphale latches onto like a drowning man. For a moment that lasts an eternity, they just look at each other.
Breaking the spell, the man says, "Okay now. Relax those shoulders a bit. Unclench your hands and shake them out. And keep breathing, okay? Steady in, steady out." Aziraphale automatically does what he asks, feeling the last bits of tension seep out of his body. The man moves from where he had been crouched in front of Aziraphale to sit against the pantry door beside him.
After a moment, Aziraphale finds his voice. "That…was a very nice thing you just did for me."
To his surprise, the stranger scoffs and says, "Shut up. Anyone would have done it. Not being nice, just don't need you in here messing up my kitchen."
Aziraphale is brought up short at the vehemence in the man's tone, but when he turns to glare at him, he finds the man looking at him with a quirked eyebrow and a smirk, and Aziraphale understands at once that he is being teased.
Well, two could play at that game. "Oh, mess up your kitchen, you say? I dare say it doesn't belong to you," he said primly.
Feigning outrage, the stranger frowns and says, "What ever could you mean? I'm the new head chef around here. Anthony Crowley, here for all your culinary needs." He holds out his hand and Aziraphale shakes it.
"Nice to meet you, Anthony," says Aziraphale, "but it's still not your kitchen."
The man tilts his head and says, "If it's not mine, then whose is it? And I should have said, I go by Crowley."
"Nice to meet you, Crowley," amends Aziraphale, "and the kitchen belongs to my parents."
Crowley lets his head drop back and laughs, a single loud cackle, and it's so delightful Aziraphale can't help the smile that rises to his face. Crowley says, "So you must be Aziraphale then. Please, let me in on the secret, because I have been dying to know. - where did your parents come up with that name?"
Aziraphale laughs, a bubbly feeling rising in his chest. "If you must know, in Hebrew mythology, Aziraphale was an angel who was tasked with guarding the gates of the Garden of Eden after Adam and Eve were expelled. Supposedly he used a flaming sword to guard the gate. Hence my name and then later the name of this very bed and breakfast."
Crowley considers this for a moment. "Very interesting. It suits you. The name, I mean, not the flaming sword. Although the flaming sword is pretty cool too. Both this place and, you know, the big sharp cutty thing." Crowley accompanies this by chopping his hands in the air with a flourish.
The bubbly feeling in Aziraphale's chest intensifies and he giggles, pressing a hand to his mouth. To his surprise, a fleeting shyness flashes in Crowley's face, a blush rising in his freckled cheeks, and neither of them speak for a moment.
Then, Crowley says, in a gentle tone, "If you don't mind me asking….are you going to be okay?"
Aziraphale is brought up short again. He had been sure Crowley was going to ask what caused his panic attack, but his only concern is for Aziraphale's well being, if he was going to be okay.
Aziraphale feels a strange, not at all unpleasant twist in his stomach at this thought, at the gentle kindness behind the stranger's words. It turns sour when he remembers the reason for his panic attack. He knows something of this must show on his face, because Crowley reaches out to grasp his hand again. "Hey," he said softly, "stay with me."
Breathing deeply, Aziraphale says "It's okay, I feel okay," and to his mild disappointment, Crowley squeezes his hand and lets it go.
Aziraphale sighs and says, "Well, it's a long story, but to give you the Cliff notes version, my boyfriend, who is apparently not only my boyfriend, asked for a break from our relationship to think through some things, and instead of thinking somewhere on his own, he has shown up here, of all places, with someone who just called him their 'boyfriend.' I heard their voices coming down the hall and this was the place I came when I panicked. I can't figure out if Gabriel is truly ignorant of the fact that this is my parents' place or if he just wasn't listening when I told him."
As he was talking he saw a myriad of emotions pass across Crowley's face. The man was remarkably expressive. He saw outrage, confusion, shock, and something less easily definable that Aziraphale thought was probably pity.
"That," says Crowley, "sucks."
Aziraphale, to his own surprise, laughs again. What was it about this man? He shouldn't be laughing right now. "Yes, it does."
Neither man says anything for a moment, and then Aziraphale sighs. "It sounded like the person Gabriel was with is a hotel reviewer. I heard them say something about needing to get a full report of the holiday to their editor."
Crowley nodded, then said quietly, "Yeah, I actually know about that- their name is Bee Prince, they're a pretty big-shot reviewer from Trip Advisor."
Aziraphale groans. "Well, that's just it, then. I'll either have to leave or completely avoid the main house for the next week." He lets his head fall back on the pantry door with a thud.
"Hey," says Crowley, "you have no reason to hide. This is your family's place. You belong here," he says firmly. "Way more than any hotel reviewer or any, ah, ex-boyfriend."
Aziraphale turns to face Crowley. "I can't do anything about them being here, though. Trip Advisor is the life blood of the agritourism industry. A bad review there could mean bad business for my parents, and I couldn't do anything that might hurt them."
Crowley contemplates this for a minute. "Yeah," he finally says, softly, "your parents are good people."
"The best," Aziraphale agrees.
Crowley sighs. For another moment they just sit quietly, and Aziraphale can't remember the last time he felt so at ease in the presence of a stranger.
Then, Crowley sits up straighter and says, "I have an idea." His amber eyes sparkle with excitement in the fluorescent lighting of the kitchen. "Is your ex the jealous type?"
Aziraphale had never known him to be. "Not especially," he answers truthfully. "Or at least I've never really experienced him being jealous."
Crowley says, "Well, the way I see it, you have two options. Option one, you can hide away in your parents house and try your best to avoid your ex and his- whatever -this week, but the chances are that what's-his-face will eventually figure out that this is your family's place, and that will likely force you out of hiding."
Aziraphale nods slowly. "What is option two?"
"Well," said Crowley slowly, "maybe we can come to some sort of an…arrangement. I can pretend to be your, ah, boyfriend, and we can see if it is possible to make him jealous. An eye for an eye, as it were. He brings a new partner….and so do you." Crowley fiddles nervously with the strings on the apron tied around his waist and casts his eyes downward.
Aziraphale stares in shock at Crowley. "You - you would do that….for me?" he says, his mouth suddenly going dry.
Crowley looks up at him through those long eyelashes. "Yeah. I would." The sincerity in his voice knocks Aziraphale flat.
"That," says Aziraphale, a wide smile speeding across his face, "is very kind."
Crowley scoffs again and points at Aziraphale. "Not kind," he says sternly. "I'm doing this purely out of self interest. I owe your parents a lot for giving me this job when they did, and I care about them. So this is really a selfish action." He grins a toothy grin and stands up, straightening out his apron and holding a hand out to Aziraphale, who takes it, allowing himself to be hoisted up.
Now that they are upright, Aziraphale is able to fully take in the graceful beauty of this man. He is lithe but not insubstantial, tall but not broad, and he wears all black clothing under his white chef's apron. He stands with one hip cocked to the side as if trying to pose on a red carpet, but he also seems distinctly twitchy under the surface.
He's also slightly taller than Aziraphale, so he has to incline his head to look up at Crowley. Aziraphale really likes tall men.
Crowley clears his throat and said, "Well, um, if we are going to be, um, pretend boyfriends, perhaps we should, you know, get our stories straight. Would you like to meet me after the dinner rush tonight to talk it through?" The end of his sentence is rushed, as if he is trying to force himself to get the words out.
Aziraphale smiles and says, "That would be lovely. Why don't we say 8:30? Where should I meet you?"
Crowley smiles too and says, "How about we go off campus somewhere? That way there's no chance of running into Gage."
"It's Gabe, I mean, Gabriel," said Aziraphale with a chuckle, "but yes I agree. I suppose that means The Garden Bar is our best option."
"Great!" says Crowley, grinning his toothy grin, eyes twinkling again. "See you then, Aziraphale. Now, shoo!" he says, waving his hands towards the door. "I gotta do prep for lunch."
Aziraphale, feeling light of heart, turns to leave. Then Crowley says, "Hey, Aziraphale?"
He turns back to see Crowley looking at him softly again. "If you feel another panic attack coming on, come find me."
Aziraphale nods slowly, then says "Okay. Bye, Crowley."
He leaves the kitchen the same way he came in, but not before checking the hallway for any sign of Gabriel. Seeing none, he walks quickly down the hallway to the main staircase and up to the Reading Room, closing the door firmly and locking it behind him.
He slumps against the door.
What the fuck just happened?
Crowley lets out a breath after the kitchen door closes behind Aziraphale.
What the FUCK are you doing, Anthony J. Crowley?
After washing his hands, he turns to the large cutting board in the center of the kitchen island and begins pulling produce towards him, starting the tomato soup to be paired with grilled cheese for lunch.
Crowley begins slicing the onions first. He makes the first cut, lobbing off the root end and peeling off the papery outer layer.
What the HELL did you just agree to? Are you really going to fake date the son of your employers to help him make his ex-boyfriend jealous? Where the fuck did you come up with that idea anyway? Damn you and your overactive imagination.
Crowley makes quick work of dicing the first onion and moves on to the next. He really should make his assistants to do this part, but he finds the repetition soothing.
Just because a beautiful angel with amazing eyes and thick thighs shows up in your kitchen having a panic attack, doesn't mean you should go throwing yourself at him the second you open your mouth, you idiot.
Crowley moves on to the third onion. He is probably moving too fast to ensure an even dice, but they'll be cooked down in the soup, so it's not a big deal.
The fact is, he had felt an immediate pull to the man. It wasn't just that he was gorgeous - that curly blonde hair and slightly upturned nose, the cheeks that showed blush as pink as a rose, the heft to him when Crowley had helped him up, lord - it was that he had seen something familiar in those eyes.
Crowley acted on instinct when Aziraphale was having his panic attack, and he is proud to have made someone feel better. Crowley had never helped anyone quite like that before. He was proud to have made Aziraphale feel better.
Walking across to the large range, he turns on the burner under his large stock pot and melts down some butter and olive oil for the onions to cook in. Dumping the onions in the pot, he stands at the range for awhile, stirring halfheartedly as the onions begin to sweat and the kitchen fills with the heady scent of butter and onion.
Maybe I should put a stop to it. Call off this arrangement.
But Crowley had seen in Aziraphale's blue-green eyes some of the pain he himself had experienced. He didn't know what the cause of it was, but Crowley felt an instinctive need to protect the man from it.
Dangerous thought, my friend. You can't protect everyone.
Scowling, Crowley turns to his basil plant and snips off a handful of leaves, pointing at the plant and snarling at it, "You'd better grow back, and better this time," before turning back to the cutting board and slicing them in a chiffonade.
Later, once the tomatoes have been diced and are stewing in the pot with the onions and basil, Crowley comes to two conclusions.
1 - He is not going to cancel on Aziraphale.
2 - Just as sure as the tomato soup will be delicious, he is 100% fucked.
Aziraphale, upon further consideration and a fair amount of box breathing, decides that this plan is madness. He doesn't know what got into him, why he agreed to it.
But a small voice in his head tells him, why not give it a shot?
Maybe Gabriel was the jealous type. Maybe he'd convince him to come back.
And in the meantime, he could spend time with a kindhearted, beautiful -
Nope. Aziraphale cut that thought off at the start and left his room to find Tracy. He needed to learn more about this Bee Prince and what, exactly, their intentions were here.
Walking back downstairs, his eyes constantly peeled for signs of Gabriel, Aziraphale slips down the hallway and to the reception area. There he finds Tracy, who is cheerfully rearranging the autumn regalia that decorates the space.
"Aziraphale!" she says warmly. "It's great to see you, dear!"
Aziraphale grins at her, then says, "You too, Tracy! Things been going smoothly with the guests so far today?"
Tracy beams. "Yes, quite well, actually. Did you hear? We have a fancy reviewer from Trip Advisor here for the holiday. A good review means good business!" she says, eyes bright, an excited wiggle in her shoulders.
Aziraphale attempts a smile, hoping it doesn't fall flat. "Yes, I did hear about that. I actually came to find out a little more about them. Did my parents contract them to come out, or did they come here on their own?" He says this casually, as if he doesn't care about the answer.
Tracy frowns. "You know, I'm not exactly sure. Might be best to just ask your parents, love."
Aziraphale says, "Okay. Do you happen to know the person this Bee Prince is staying with? Only I heard your voices in the hallway and he seemed…familiar to me, somehow. Was wondering if he was a local." Aziraphale is entirely making this up as he goes along, trying to worm information out of Tracy in the least conspicuous way possible.
Tracy frowns at this and seems to decide the information isn't top secret. "Yes, they are staying with someone named Gabriel Archer. That's about all I know." Tracy walks up to look at him a little more closely. "Is everything okay, dearie? Only, you look rather pale."
Aziraphale manages to nod his head and say, "Yes, everything is alright. Well, thank you Tracy, I'd best be off." And he stumbles from the room, out of the reception area and onto the gravel driveway.
Up until this point, he had hoped that he had simply imagined the whole thing, or that this was case of mistaken identity, but hearing Gabriel's last name confirmed sent his head reeling again.
Aziraphale walks quickly over to his parent's house and enters through the side door, finding Sarah sitting at the kitchen table. She looks up, catches sight of her son's face, and says, "Aziraphale, it looks like you've seen a ghost. Are you alright?"
Aziraphale sits heavily down at the kitchen table and buries his face in his hands.
"Oh, dear," his mother says sympathetically. "You let me know when you're ready to talk."
This is another thing Aziraphale has always loved about his parents. They always wait with the greatest patience for their children to talk through their problems, meeting them where they're at and not pressuring them to find a solution.
Aziraphale takes a minute to gather his thoughts. Then, he says, "What do you know about the hotel reviewer staying here this week?"
Sarah brightens. "Oh, have you met them? Your dad is hoping that having a good endorsement from Trip Advisor will bring in some more business during the off-season times. He's hoping to be able to move forward with some upgrades to the cannery and the barn."
Aziraphale says, "Well, I haven't met them, but I heard them coming down the hall with Tracy earlier." He swallows thickly. "Gabriel was with them."
Sarah's eyes narrow. "Gabriel?"
"Yes."
"Gabriel is here?" Sarah looks confused and angry.
"Yes, mom," Aziraphale sighs.
Then, Sarah catches on. "He's here with the Trip Advisor person?" she says sharply.
Aziraphale nods. "Tracy confirmed for me that they're staying in the same room."
Sarah's face crumples and she takes a deep breath. "Oh, Aziraphale, I'm so sorry." She reaches out and squeezes his hand. Then she says, "What can we do? Do you want us to ask them to leave?"
Aziraphale looks up, his eyes wide. "Absolutely not, mom! You can't take the risk that it will make them angry enough to write a bad review. I couldn't stand if that happened to you both because of me," he says, his voice cracking.
Sarah's eyes are full of sympathy. "Do you want to just stay here in the house with us? Your twin bed isn't anywhere near as comfy but it might mean you won't run into him, at least until Thursday."
Aziraphale almost agrees. But then, Crowley's face pops into his head and he remembers his comforting words.
You have no reason to hide. This is your family's place. You belong here.
Aziraphale straightens up a bit. "Thank you, Mom, but I'm not going to hide. This is our family home and I belong here more than Gabriel does."
Sarah smiles, grimly satisfied. "Damn right, Aziraphale. Either way, the offer stands if you change your mind."
Aziraphale ends up having a late lunch with his parents at their house and spends the rest of the afternoon whiling away the hours until his (meeting? date?) with Crowley by alternatively reading The Shining and pacing his room.
When eight o'clock rolls around, he gets into his car and drives down the country road that leads him to the very small city square, where The Garden Bar sits at the intersection of the imaginatively named First and Main streets.
It's a nice enough place for a small town, decorated with numerous potted plants and with fake vines and fairy lights dangling from the ceiling. They're well known for their prime rib special on Saturday nights. Aziraphale is seated, places his order, and has a beer in his hand within two minutes.
The clock ticks past 8:30, then 8:45, and Aziraphale starts to feel anxious again. What if Crowley changed his mind, or worse, Aziraphale was so insignificant to him that he just forgot?
To his relief, no sooner does he have this thought then the bar's door swings open, admitting Crowley. He saunters in, looking entirely at ease, greeting the host, who seems to recognize him. They exchange a few words and then Crowley looks up and catches sight of Aziraphale, a wide smile spreading across his face.
Aziraphale feels that bubbly feeling rising in his chest again, his own smile easily mirroring Crowley's. As Crowley makes his way towards the table, Aziraphale wipes his sweaty palms on his pants and considers standing up, but before he can, Crowley slinks into the chair opposite him, saying, "I'm so sorry I'm late. Wrapping up dinner took a little extra time tonight. Newt somehow managed to erase our entire online inventory and I had to help him restore it from the cloud."
Aziraphale laughs. "Who is Newt?
"My assistant. He's a fucking wizard at sauces and mise en place, but he's an absolute disaster with anything to do with technology. He once dropped his cell phone in the dishwasher and didn't realize it until it had gone through the cycle," Crowley says with a chuckle.
Aziraphale laughs too. "How long have you worked together?"
"Just about as long as I've worked for your parents, which is four months," says Crowley, catching the attention of a waiter, who comes to take his food and drink orders. Once the waiter has left, Aziraphale says, "I hope you don't mind, I ordered without you, I wasn't sure if you had eaten or not."
Crowley smiles that toothy smile again and says, "Not a problem. So, Aziraphale, did you run into Greg at all today?"
Aziraphale can't help but laugh again. "No, I was lucky enough to not run into Gabriel today."
Crowley's expression grows sober. "I really am sorry, Aziraphale. I know this must be a bummer to start your Thanksgiving vacation off with. And I've been thinking this afternoon, it was very forward of me to suggest what I did, so if you want to back out, then there's no hard feelings," he says, all at once looking shy again. "I mean, we don't even know each other," he says, gazing down at his hands where they sit folded on the tabletop.
Aziraphale finds Crowley's shyness utterly endearing. "Crowley?"
Crowley looks up at him, and Aziraphale is once again taken in by those stunning amber colored irises, warm pools of gold in the low light of the bar. "Yeah?"
Aziraphale says, softly, "I would very much like to get to know you. How about we start with that?"
Crowley's smile widens, lighting up his whole face, and he is lovely. "Sounds like a plan. So, Aziraphale, tell me - what does a man such as yourself do for a living?"
They chat amiably about their backgrounds, Aziraphale talking about his education and what led to him working at his current school, Crowley telling Aziraphale about his internship at a prestigious Michelin star restaurant in Chicago.
Aziraphale gasps. "A Michelin star restaurant? Really?"
Crowley shrugs. "It's not really a big deal. Good cooking is good cooking, and sometimes those places are overrated. The best thing I learned there was how to deal with snobby rich people, and that's not a skill I want to practice for the rest of my life if I can avoid it."
Aziraphale says curiously, "So what brought you out here? What was it about this place that drew you in?"
Crowley seems to wrestle with the answer to this question, then, meeting Aziraphale's gaze, says, "My mother and sister died in a car crash five years ago. I took it really hard for awhile, and ended up quitting my internship. I couldn't keep up…I was, um, having panic attacks left and right. I was wracked with guilt for spending more time at work than with my family, and for not being able to save them."
"Eventually I got into therapy and got my head on relatively straight again, and when a friend in Omaha needed a roommate I decided to move out here to start fresh. I worked at a few different places in Omaha, but then I saw the advertisement at the end of June for the head chef position at The Flaming Sword, and something about it just called to me. I interviewed and got the job and….here we are," he finishes softly.
Aziraphale is shaken. He wants to say something to express his sorrow for Crowley and his family, but no words seem forthcoming. Instead, he reaches out and tentatively takes Crowley's hand, squeezing it gently. Crowley looks momentarily surprised, but then his posture relaxes and he grips Aziraphale's hand for a moment before letting go.
The moment is broken when the waiter comes with their food and the distraction is enough to shake them both out of their reveries.
Aziraphale starts his meal by taking a bit of the house-made horseradish and spreading it on the prime rib, bringing a bite to his lips. At the taste, he lets out a soft moan of appreciation. Aziraphale has always loved a good prime rib.
A few bites later, he realizes that Crowley has not said anything, nor has he touched his own food. He looks up curiously to find Crowley staring at him, and says, "Are you okay, Crowley?" Crowley's cheeks are a very deep shade of pink, and his mouth is hanging open a little bit.
Then he gives his head a little shake, saying robustly, "Nope, nothing's wrong, nothing at all. So, Aziraphale, have you been a lifelong Husker fan like most people around here, or are you not interested in torturing yourself?"
This makes Aziraphale laugh again. He has never really been a huge sports fan, but it's hard to grow up around here and not at least be aware of the Huskers and their fall from football glory.
The conversation meanders amiably, moving from sports:
Aziraphale: Husker home games are quite the spectacle, although now that I'm a little older I much prefer to stay home to watch, if I watch at all. Far too many people for my liking.
Crowley: Yeah, large crowds are the stuff of nightmares for me.
- to books:
Aziraphale: When it comes to classics, I'm a huge fan of Jane Austen. I'd have to say my favorite is Persuasion.
Crowley: Ah yes, Jane Austen, brains behind the 1810 Clerkenwell diamond robbery, brandy smuggler, master spy.
Aziraphale: ……..what?
- to TV shows:
Crowley: My comfort show is the Golden Girls.
Aziraphale: Now that's very interesting…we actually had two goats named Dorothy and Blanche when I was younger.
Crowley: Oh, remind me to tell you the goat story later! Might need some more booze before I do that.
Aziraphale: Well now you've intrigued me.
- to movies:
Crowley: What do you MEAN you've never seen a Bond film?
Aziraphale: I've read the books!
- to flowers:
Crowley: There was a large garden in the backyard of the cottage when I moved in this summer, and I managed to clean it up enough before autumn hit. Had to prune back quite a bit.
Aziraphale: Hopefully you didn't get rid of the roses - there was a lovely rosebush out there. Sometimes they came in yellow, which was always my favorite. Jack would always let me pick them for my mom.
- to music:
Aziraphale: I have a pretty extensive LP collection. I once had a very rare original pressing of the Glenn Miller Orchestra performing at Carnegie Hall.
Crowley: What happened to it?
Aziraphale: Well….my school was doing a fundraiser, see, and we were short of our goal and coming up against the deadline, and, well….I gave it away so they could sell it and put the money towards the fundraiser.
Crowley: …….you what??????
….and Aziraphale is surprised to find that talking with Crowley is one of the easiest things he has done in a long time.
After they finish their food, they order a second round of drinks, and then a third, and then sometime after that, they are having a heated discussion about The Velvet Underground.
"I cannot believe that you think the Velvet Underground is bebop, Aziraphale," Crowley says, his voice slurring a little bit on the "z" in Aziraphale's name.
Aziraphale, feeling quite tipsy himself, says, "My dear, your taste in music is dreadful."
Crowley looks at him in outrage. "You know, angel, if you lined up every human in the world and asked them to describe The Velvet Underground, nobody at all would say bebop."
Aziraphale stills for a moment. Angel?
Crowley doesn't seem to notice that he said anything strange, so Aziraphale does his best, in his semi-drunk state, to school his expression.
One more ill-advised round of drinks later and Aziraphale realizes that he most certainly can't drive home, and neither can Crowley. The bar is about to close, and Aziraphale wonders if Uber services this area. He gets on the app and sees that no, in fact, they don't, and resigns himself to walking home.
Walking home? They can't do that. It's freezing and there's about three miles of gravel roads to go down. Wait, did he say that out loud? He did not.
"Crowley? I….we…..can't walk home. "
Crowley tries to focus on Aziraphale's face, resting his chin on his hand, but his elbow slips off the edge of the table and he nearly falls out of his chair. This results in both of them giggling uncontrollably until the host comes over to their table.
"Gentlemen, I'm afraid I'll have to cut you off."
"Eric!" Crowley exclaims. "Have you met my friend Az….Aziraphale?" he says with a little hiccup.
"We haven't met but I know who he is. Do you two need a ride home?" he says.
Aziraphale looks sheepishly up into the man's face. "I'm entirely unable to operate a motor vehicle at present and I have no interest in walking home, so the answer to that is……yes," he says with a little pout.
Crowley is gaping at Aziraphale. "Angel, how do you sound...sssoo proper…when, when you're drunk? It'sssss like you're….just…this cute little angel with the….and you know…." he slurs, waving his hands around himself in a vague motion.
Aziraphale holds his head up deliberately high. "I have no idea what you might be talking about."
The host sighs. "Alright, you two, come with me. I'm off for the evening. I'll take you back to The Flaming Sword."
Crowley jumps up unsteadily. "Good man you are, Eric, right-o!"
Aziraphale stands up, only slightly steadier than Crowley. "This is very kind of you, dear boy." He pats Eric on the shoulder and he and Crowley manage to follow him out the door without incident, save for Crowley returning for his coat. And Aziraphale returning for his gloves. And Crowley returning for his wallet.
Finally they are in the backseat of Eric's car and trundling down the gravel roads back to the bed and breakfast. The ride is a short one (maybe they could have walked after all), and with many effusive words of thanks, they manage to extract themselves from Eric's vehicle and wave him off into the night.
They stand for a moment in the lights from the front porch of the main house, both slowly sobering up in the bracing night air. Crowley peers at Aziraphale and says, surprisingly lucidly, "Are you staying at the main house then or with your parents?"
Aziraphale says, "In the Reading Room of the main house. It was always my favorite. My parents suggested me coming up and staying when they had a cancellation. I was originally supposed to, um, go with Gabriel to his parent's house this week, but, well…."
Crowley gasps rather dramatically, clapping a hand to his forehead. "We didn't talk about the whole fake boyfriend thing! That was the whole point of meeting tonight! We gotta fool Gale into thinking we're together so we can make him jealousssss," he says, the end of his sentence trailing off in a hiss.
Aziraphale laughs again. "Okay, let's talk about it." Then, feeling rather emboldened by the alcohol, he says, "If we are around him together, can I hold your hand?"
Even in the dim light, Aziraphale can see that Crowley's face has gone pink again.
"Ah, um, yes, okay, sure, that sounds great," he says all in one breath.
Aziraphale, highly amused, walks a little closer and reaches out to take Crowley's gloved hand in his. "What about hugs?"
Crowley mutters a string of unintelligible consonant-type sounds and finally just nods.
Aziraphale pauses, holding back the next question that springs to his lips.
May I kiss you?
Instead he says, with a resolute briskness, "Thank you for a lovely evening, Crowley."
Crowley blinks, then says, "Yeah, you too," and with a slight squeeze of his fingers, lets go of Aziraphale's hand and walks off down the pathway to the staff lodgings. "Good night!" he calls over his shoulder.
Aziraphale watches him go for a moment, whispers, "Good night," and walks into the main house. He doesn't know if he's more relieved or disappointed that he let those words go unsaid.
Sunday morning dawns bright and bitterly cold. Aziraphale makes a beeline across the gravel drive to his parents house and is greeted with hot coffee and warm cinnamon rolls, which do wonders for the slight hangover that he is suffering from this morning. He sits contentedly at the kitchen table for a long time, enjoying the company of his parents and reading the paper until Muriel walks in with sleepy eyes and tousled hair. They seem to wake up a bit when they catch sight of Aziraphale.
"Hey big bro! Missed seeing you yesterday," Muriel says, stifling a yawn. "I had an early swim meet and then you were out when I got back."
"Yeah, sorry about that," says Aziraphale. "How did the meet go?"
Muriel tells Aziraphale about their personal record in the butterfly and then regales them all with a stories about their teammates. It seems that they have found an excellent group of friends in the swim club, and for this Aziraphale is relieved and glad. Coming out as non-binary in middle school has been a challenge, but Muriel seems to have emerged on the other side of it stronger than before.
Out of nowhere, Muriel says, "Mom, can I go over and tell Crowley about my PR?"
Aziraphale feels that bubbly feeling rise up in his chest again at the mention of Crowley's name. This is immediately followed by a stab of panic as he wonders if he should tell his family about his and Crowley's arrangement.
"Sure honey," says Sarah, "but maybe give him another half an hour. You know that he's not really a morning person."
Aziraphale decides to probe a little to find out more about Crowley. "Does someone else do the breakfasts?"
Daniel says, gruffly, "Yep. It got to be too much for him to do all three meals, so now he does the lunches and dinners at the restaurant while Newt handles breakfast for the guests. Seems to work out for all parties involved."
Muriel says, "Sometimes I go help him with lunch prep! He's been teaching me some knife skills. I can dice a whole onion in under 30 seconds!"
Sarah grimaces at this a little. "Dear, let's remember that safety is more important than speed."
Muriel's eyes are shining. "I know, but it's so cool how he does it! He's so quick and he always does it perfectly. And he said next week he'd show me how to make crepes!"
Aziraphale is listening to this conversation with a little too much fascination, and his mouth waters at the mention of crepes. He is very interested to see how much Crowley has become a part of his family's life. Before he can think too hard about it, he says, "I'll walk with you over to the main house, Muriel. You should have one of those cinnamon rolls before we go though."
Twenty minutes later, after more coffee and a second cinnamon roll, Aziraphale and Muriel cross the driveway back to the main house. They walk into the kitchen to find Crowley leaning against the chopping block, wearing sunglasses and drinking a mug of steaming hot coffee, his hair in a messy ponytail hanging over his shoulder.
"Crowley!" Muriel exclaims. "I got a PR in the butterfly yesterday!"
Aziraphale sees Crowley wince very slightly at the brightness in their voice, but he hides it quickly with a warm smile and puts his coffee mug down. "That's fantastic, kiddo!" he says with such fondness in his voice that it settles in Aziraphale's chest like a balm.
Crowley stoops to give Muriel a quick hug, then straightens up when he catches sight of Aziraphale. His mouth quirks up in a smile and he says, in a teasing tone, "Good morning, Aziraphale. How are you feeling this morning?"
Aziraphale teases him right back. "I'm faring quite well. Looks like the same can't be said for you. Are the lights in here a bit too bright this morning, my dear?"
"Yep," Crowley says, "and it's only getting worse, you coming in here with your ridiculously blonde hair. It's like a halo. Way too bright."
Aziraphale giggles. "And what about your hair? Is that going to fit under your hairnet this morning?"
Crowley scowls at him and says, "Hey, I'll have you know, it's your fault my hair is so messy. I wouldn't have had that third round of drinks if it weren't for you calling the Velvet Underground 'bebop,'" he says with a shudder.
"Again, I say your taste in music is atrocious," says Aziraphale. "But I will say, I am glad you know Eric. I'm not sure how we would have gotten home otherwise."
Muriel speaks up, their eyes alight with mischief. "I take it you two know each other?" they say, with just a hint of suggestion in their voice.
Aziraphale belatedly realizes that he has been flirting with Crowley right in front of his baby sibling, who is way too smart for their own good, and immediately feels a blush rise to his cheeks. "Ah yes, well, you see…" he trails off, unsure how to explain.
Thankfully, Crowley steps in. "We met yesterday and ended up having a drink last night," he says. "Your brother here certainly has some interesting ideas about music."
Muriel rolls their eyes. "Tell me about it! He always is playing something lame like Beethoven or Bach on our record player at the house."
Aziraphale gasps in mock horror. "Lame? Beethoven and Bach are not lame, they are first class composers!"
Crowley says conspiratorially to Muriel, "You should just replace all of his records with Queen LP's, that'll teach him." He winks at Aziraphale over Muriel's head, and Aziraphale feels his stomach swoop.
Aziraphale and Muriel spend the next few hours in the kitchen helping Crowley with prep work for the traditional Sunday mid-day meal. The restaurant is closed Sunday evenings, so lunch is a big deal.
Aziraphale quickly realizes two things. First, Crowley is extremely good at his job. He navigates the kitchen with ease, directing Aziraphale and Muriel with clear and precise instructions. He moves with a lithe grace that Aziraphale is drawn to, distracting him from his task enough to earn him a reprimand from the man himself for not paying close enough attention to the green beans he is trimming.
Second, Crowley and Muriel share a special bond. Crowley asks them questions about their school work, about the books they're reading, and about their friends on the swim team. Crowley's familiarity with Muriel and their life makes Aziraphale think that Muriel spends a lot of time here in the kitchen, much like he did with Jack when he was younger. Crowley never talks down to Muriel and always listens attentively to their answers, in a graceful and kind way that some adults never seem to master when it comes to children.
Thinking about it makes the bubbly feeling rise up in Aziraphale's chest again, and he finds himself blinking back tears more than once. He chides himself for being overly sentimental, but at the same time it makes him feel warm inside that Muriel has found a friend in Crowley.
Far too soon, Crowley claps his hands and says, "Alright, both of you out. Gotta make the magic. Thanks for your help!" He shoos them both towards the door.
Aziraphale feels a swift stab of disappointment and dithers for a moment. Then, he seizes on an idea.
"Hey, before we go, we probably should figure out a way to get our cars back, yeah?" Aziraphale says quickly.
Crowley stops for a moment. "Oh yeah. Probably."
Aziraphale says, "Maybe after lunch I can ask mom or dad to give us a ride?"
Crowley pauses for a moment, looking at Aziraphale, and Aziraphale isn't sure what thoughts are going through his mind, especially with his eyes hidden behind sunglasses.
"Yeah," Crowley finally says, slowly. "That's a good idea. What would you say to around four o'clock?"
Aziraphale can't help the smile that rises to his face. "Sounds good, see you then, Crowley." Then, with a wave, he and Muriel head back across the way to their parent's house.
As soon as the door to the house is closed, Muriel rounds on Aziraphale.
"Oh. My. God. Aziraphale. You like him."
Aziraphale sputters incoherently, then says, "Whatever in the world do you mean? I just met the man yesterday!"
Muriel's eyes glitter. "And he likes you too."
Aziraphale rolls his eyes. "Muriel, that's not how it works."
Muriel gasps. "Wait, don't you have a boyfriend?"
Aziraphale just stares at them for a moment. He realizes that he hasn't thought about Gabriel, really thought about him, since yesterday afternoon.
Letting out a breath, Aziraphale says, "Not technically, no. He asked if we could take a break. To think through things."
Muriel's face falls. "Oh. I'm sorry. What happened?"
Aziraphale considers how much he should tell them. Were they too young to understand? But then, Muriel is probably smarter and more intuitive than anyone in his family, so he ends up telling them the whole story, right down to the arrangement he made with Crowley. By the time he's finished, Muriel is barely holding back laughter.
"Holy crap, this is like one of those Hallmark movies. Man comes back to hometown, broken hearted, and falls in love with chef at family restaurant while trying to make his old partner jealous. It's perfect," they say though uncontrollable giggles.
Aziraphale giggles right along with her. "Yeah, if Hallmark made movies exclusively about gay disasters like me." They both snort with laughter for another minute, then Muriel goes quiet.
"Seriously, big bro, Crowley is a really good human. I think you should just go for it."
Aziraphale just stares at them for a moment. How did kids always make everything seem so simple?
He sighs and says, "I don't think it's that simple, kiddo. But I'll take that under consideration."
Muriel smiles at him. "You'd better, because I am definitely shipping you two." And with that, they flop into the armchair by the fire and bury their face in a book.
Aziraphale, feeling distinctly off-balance, goes back to his room and does the same, whiling away the hours until four o'clock and determinedly avoiding thinking about Crowley.
At half past three, Aziraphale emerges from his room and begins going down the stairs. With a swoop of dread he realizes that the confrontation with Gabriel is about to happen whether he likes it or not, because the man himself is standing at the bottom of the staircase.
"Az?" he says, looking extremely confused and angry. "What in the world are you doing here?"
Aziraphale can't decide if he feels more anger or annoyance. "Gabriel. This is my family's bed and breakfast. You know, the one I've told you about?"
Gabriel scoffs. "You did not tell me about this place. My mind is a steel trap. I find it kind of hard to forget things," he says, tapping his forehead in a maddeningly smug way.
"No," Aziraphale says, "I definitely told you. You just didn't listen."
Gabriel looks taken aback by the vehemence in Aziraphale's tone, and with a spark of savage pleasure, Aziraphale realizes that he's never stood up for himself this way to Gabriel before.
It hits him over the head, then, everything he hasn't wanted to admit to himself.
The panic attacks aren't caused by his own anxieties. They are largely a result of six months of disrespect shown by the man standing in front of him.
Aziraphale has been deluding himself, thinking that Gabriel is right for him, when the truth is, Gabriel is the furthest thing from what he needs. How could he have been so blind?
Aziraphale opens his mouth, but before he can speak, Crowley walks through the kitchen door and into the foyer. He catches Aziraphale's eye and beams at him, and Aziraphale feels as though the sun has come out from behind a cloud.
Crowley notices Gabriel and quickly picks up on the tension in the room. In one fluid motion, he saunters over to stand next to Aziraphale, grasping his hand and kissing him lightly on the cheek.
"Hiya, Aziraphale," he says, then turning to Gabriel, says, "Hello, and who might you be?" His tone is polite but there is a definite undertow of snark.
Gabriel's mouth hangs open in shock.
Aziraphale's cheek burns where Crowley kissed him.
For a fraction of a second, it feels as though time itself stops.
Then, Gabriel says, coldly, "Moved on pretty quickly, haven't we, Az? Didn't take you for the type to have a rebound fling. That's not really sterling behavior for someone who is so desperate to be a father, now is it?"
And without another word, he turns on his heel and walks out the door.
Aziraphale lets out a shaky breath, and Crowley tightens the hold he has on Aziraphale's hand, as if ready to catch him should he fall.
But Aziraphale doesn't fall, and he doesn't panic, because in the span of a few minutes, his whole world view has shifted.
What he does instead is say, "What an unbelievable bloody hypocrite."
Crowley lets out his own breath and laughs. "Bloody? Have you suddenly gone all British on me? That somehow fits your whole vibe, actually."
"My whole vibe?" says Aziraphale archly. "What exactly is that supposed to mean?"
"It means," says Crowley, "that you're a little prim and proper but have some serious backbone to you. Stiff upper lip, and all that."
Aziraphale sighs. "Except for that time I had a panic attack in front of you."
Crowley's expression turns serious. "Well, now that I've met Greg in person, I can see why. He's a first class prick. You deserve better, angel."
Aziraphale feels his stomach swoop again, and turns to face Crowley. "You called me angel again. You did it last night, too."
Crowley's face turns that brilliant shade of pink again, and he looks nervously at his feet. "Yeah, well, like I said, you've kind of got that halo of blond hair, and what with your being named after an angel and all that, I dunno, it just sort of slipped out. I won't do it again if it makes you uncomfortable."
Crowley looks up and meets Aziraphale's eyes, looking vulnerable and sweet, and Aziraphale is struck again by just how beautiful he is.
"It doesn't make me uncomfortable. I really like it," Aziraphale says, softly.
Crowley nods, once. "Okay then. Angel." And then he smiles, and this time, Aziraphale does fall.
Just not physically.
Crowley and Aziraphale meet Sarah out by the family's truck and the three of them pile in for the short trip into town. Aziraphale can tell that his mom is dying to ask questions but she tactfully refrains, and they make small talk about the upcoming holiday until she drops them off.
Before they get out, though, Sarah says to Crowley, "Do you have any plans tonight, dear? If not, would you like to join us for dinner?"
Crowley stammers unintelligibly for a moment, looking at Aziraphale for a moment, then says, "Yeah, Mrs. Fell, that would be great. Can I bring anything?"
"Absolutely not," she says. "It's your night off before a big week, no cooking for you."
Crowley smiles, nods, and without another word gets out of their car and into his own.
Once he is out of earshot, Sarah turns to Aziraphale and says, "Oh my Lord, Aziraphale, you like that boy!"
Aziraphale's face turns redder than a strawberry as he hisses, "Mom! I just met him yesterday, for Heaven's sake!" Somehow this conversation is even more embarrassing than the one he had with Muriel earlier.
Sarah smiles very smugly and says, "You know, I had a little feeling about you two. I've been meaning to get you to come meet him since we hired him this summer."
"Mooooom," Aziraphale groans, burying his face in his hands. "Stoooooop." He realizes that he sounds like a petulant teenager but give him a break, it's been a intense few days.
Sarah says, with a mischievous glint in her eye, "I didn't know that you two went for a drink last night. How exactly did that happen?"
Aziraphale doesn't have the heart or the energy to lie to his mom, and in any case, he's pretty sure Muriel will fill her in if he doesn't. And so, the whole story comes out, right down to the pretend boyfriend arrangement and the confrontation with Gabriel.
When he finishes, Sarah just stares at him for a moment, then begins laughing so hard that tears flow down her cheeks. Aziraphale tries to be annoyed, but his mom's laughter is contagious, and soon he is laughing right along with her.
When Sarah manages to calm down a bit, she says, "So, is this it, then? You and Gabriel are finished?"
Aziraphale says, "I don't exactly know how we come back from this. I am, shall we say, no longer inclined to continue the relationship."
Sarah says vehemently, "Good. I never liked him."
Aziraphale says, "To be honest, I don't think I ever really did, either. I think I just deluded myself into thinking that I did. And it certainly seems like he never actually liked me either."
Sarah reaches out and grasps Aziraphale's hand. "I'm sorry, dearest. This kind of thing is never fun."
Aziraphale squeezes her hand, and says, "I'm really glad I came up this week. I might not have snapped out of this so quickly if it weren't for being here."
Sarah smiles, then says, "That's what family is for, love."
After a moment, she says, "So now, you're single. And I know for a fact that Crowley is also single."
"Moooooommmmmm," he groans again, but his heart really isn't in it. He gets out of her car, waves goodbye, and gets into his own. A small smile plays on his face all the way back to the farm.
Aziraphale has changed his clothes three different times, trying to thread the needle between "dinner with the family" and "trying to impress this new guy that I like" and failing spectacularly at both. He settles on a sky blue button up shirt that goes well with his eyes and layers his favorite cream colored cardigan over the top of it. Fairly satisfied with the results, he goes over to see what he can do to help with dinner.
He finds Muriel in the kitchen buttering the tops of some delicious looking dinner rolls. Daniel is checking the temperature on the brisket he's just pulled out of the oven. Everything smells delicious, and Aziraphale's mouth waters immediately.
Muriel sees Aziraphale come in and says, "Hey big bro. I hear we have a special guest for dinner tonight!" They shoot him a mischievous grin.
Sarah comes in the room, saying "Okay Muriel, leave it alone. Aziraphale, you can set the table."
Aziraphale takes the cutlery to the dining room table and is just finishing the last setting when he hears a soft rap on the front door. Hurrying to it, he opens the door to find Crowley, holding a bottle of wine and looking stunning.
He wears tight black jeans that hug his slim legs and hips and a maroon colored shirt that has a slight sparkly sheen to it, as if part of it were made with glitter. His hair is clean and done up in a half bun and his nails are painted in a complementary color to his shirt. He's also not wearing a coat.
Aziraphale just stares at him for a minute. To his surprise, Crowley seems to be staring right back, looking him up and down with a satisfied smirk on his face.
"Hiya, angel," he says, continuing to look Aziraphale up and down, and Aziraphale is so flabbergasted by this that he doesn't say a single word.
Their staring contest is interrupted by Sarah. "Come on in, Crowley! Aziraphale, for heaven's sake, close the door, you're letting all the heat out!"
She ushers Crowley in, shooting Aziraphale a pointed look, and they all traipse into the kitchen. Crowley and Aziraphale smile sheepishly at each other.
Pleasantries are exchanged and Sarah thanks Crowley profusely for the wine. There is a flurry of activity as the food is brought out to the table, wine is poured in glasses, and Muriel pointedly tells both Crowley and Aziraphale where to sit, next to each other on the far side of the table.
Crowley smiles at Aziraphale as they settle in their assigned chairs. He leans over and says, very quietly, "You look nice tonight. I was half expecting you to wear a bow-tie to dinner or something. All prim and proper."
Aziraphale giggles. "I thought about it, but decided to refrain."
Crowley looks at him with wide eyes. "Really? Why?"
"Thought it might give off the wrong impression. Would look too British or something," he says, raising his eyebrows.
"Hey!" says Crowley. "I wasn't saying that was a bad thing! Most of my favorite shows and actors are British, actually. Or set in England, I guess."
"Well isn't that interesting," says Aziraphale, with a flirty smile.
Crowley says, "Now what is that supposed to mean?"
That warm, bubbly feeling rises in Aziraphale again. "Just that you seem to have a type, my dear."
Someone clears their throat, and they both look up to find that Aziraphale's family have all taken their seats and are looking at them with amused expressions on their faces.
Sarah raises an eyebrow and says, "Shall we eat?"
Muriel says, "First, a toast!"
They all raise their wine glasses, and Daniel takes the lead. "To Thanksgiving at the Flaming Sword!"
Sarah says, "To family!
Muriel says, "To books!"
Aziraphale says, solemnly, "To new beginnings."
Crowley says, "To the world."
They all clink glasses, and Aziraphale feels a small jolt when Crowley's hand brushes his. They make eye contact and smile, and Crowley's face glows in the low light of the dining room.
Everyone settles back and they begin to eat. The conversation flows freely and easily, and Aziraphale is floating on a cloud of delicious food, excellent wine, and the good cheer of the man sitting next to him. Crowley is completely at ease with his family, teasing Muriel with fondness, engaging Sarah in a conversation about the Thanksgiving meal prep, and laughing with Daniel as they entertain the others with the tale of a wayward goat that made its way on to the property earlier in the summer.
Daniel tells the tale, complete with sound effects and waving arms. "The goat kept getting into the vegetable patch and trying to eat the carrots. So Crowley starts running up and down, making these awful noises to try to get it to leave the patch. He kept running past me and yelling, 'Do I sound like a goat? Is it more of a neigh or a baa?,' and making these ridiculous sounds, and by the time we finally cornered the goat, half the guests have come out to watch. Some of them recorded it and it made its way onto TikTok."
By this point, Crowley is breathless with laughter, his eyes full of tears. "It went mildly viral and is probably responsible for most of the reservations at the restaurant. They just want to come see the ridiculous guy who chased the goat."
Aziraphale wheezes with his own laughter. "So what happened? Did you end up getting it back where it belonged?"
Crowley wipes his eyes and says, "Yep, some of the guests helped us wrangle it into your dad's truck and returned it to Anathema, thank goodness." He looks at Aziraphale then, and Aziraphale finds it very hard to look away.
Aziraphale thinks to himself that he does not want this night to end, he does not want this week to end, he would be happy to keep looking at those lovely eyes forever. But he shakes his head a little at the thought; what ridiculous ideas to have about someone he just met. He must be more drunk than he thought.
The meal winds down after a particularly delicious apple pie for dessert and everyone returns their plates to the kitchen. Crowley volunteers to help with the dishes, but Muriel quickly steps up to the counter and Sarah firmly shoves both Aziraphale and Crowley out the door of the kitchen.
"Aziraphale, walk Crowley back to his place, please, and let him borrow your extra coat. He's going to freeze his butt off out there without it."
Crowley looks a little sheepish at that. "Yeah, I guess I probably should have worn my own. Thanks, Mrs. Fell, and thank you both for dinner." He accepts a hug from Sarah, shakes Daniel's hand, gives Muriel a high five, and follows Aziraphale to the door.
Aziraphale finds the extra coat for Crowley, shrugs on his own, and then opens the door with a flourish, saying "After you!"
Crowley leads the way out the door, yelling his final goodbyes to Aziraphale's family. As they start down the path, huddling into the coats for warmth, Crowley says, "Well that was a fun night."
Aziraphale says, "I agree. I'm really glad that I decided to come up here for the week."
Crowley shoots a sly sideways grin at him. "Even if you have to endure your family playing matchmaker for us?"
Even though he is slightly embarrassed that Crowley has acknowledged this out loud, Aziraphale throws his head back and laughs, he can't help it. "Yes, they are quite ridiculous, aren't they?"
Crowley says, "They mean well, I suppose. If it's one thing I've learned about your family, it's that they love big and they love hard. Working for them has been such a good thing for me."
Aziraphale feels a well of warmth rising up in his chest, overpowering the cold surrounding them. Watching Crowley with his family tonight made him ache with a longing he didn't quite understand.
To dispel this feeling, Aziraphale aims for another tease. "Clearly you coming here was a good thing, because how else would my dad wrangle random goats that wander onto the property?"
Crowley scoffs. "Goats? Forget about them, I could wrangle a horse if I wanted to."
Aziraphale says, "Now that's a bold claim."
They've reached the door of the small cottage where Crowley lives, and they turn to face each other in the dim porch light.
Aziraphale tentatively steps closer to Crowley, who looks down into his face with a gaze so soft and sweet it makes the ache in his chest return. "Thank you, Crowley."
Crowley's left eyebrow raises in surprise. "What for?"
"For being there for me when I needed help. For helping me figure out a few things. For just being yourself, I guess," Aziraphale says, leaning closer to Crowley, their visible breaths mingling in the cold night air.
"Mmmm, I'm not all that much," Crowley says quietly, uncertainly, his expression vulnerable.
Aziraphale smiles at him fondly and says, with a slight tremor in his voice, "You sell yourself short."
Crowley's hand comes up to Aziraphale's face, his thumb brushing the edge of his jaw, a tender and light touch that sends a shiver down Aziraphale's spine unrelated to the cold. Their faces are very close now.
Crowley swallows hard, then says, his voice low, catching deliciously in Aziraphale's ear, "I'm nothing compared to you, angel." And he closes the final distance between them and presses his lips to Aziraphale's.
It's tentative, soft, gentle at first, just a pressing of warm lips in the middle of a cold night. Aziraphale can smell wood smoke in the air, the sharp bite of winter air, and the heady scent of Crowley's breath mingled with his own. Crowley's hand remains where it is, cupping Aziraphale's chin.
Aziraphale angles his head to get closer and their noses brush against each other. He feels Crowley melt a little further into the kiss, exhaling through his nose, leaning more of his body weight onto Aziraphale, who holds him up easily by wrapping his arms around Crowley's waist underneath the bulky coat.
Then, it's like the floodgates open, and Crowley's hands are gripping the back of his head, pulling him in closer. Aziraphale opens his mouth the tiniest bit and Crowley's tongue darts forward and they are tasting each other, and it is better than anything Aziraphale has ever experienced.
Crowley tastes like wine and cinnamon and his hands are cradling Aziraphale's head like he is the most precious thing in the world. Aziraphale feels his knees going weak, the heady sensation of being kissed overwhelming everything else.
Far too soon, they break apart to catch their breath, the cold air rushing to fill the space between them, and Aziraphale already misses the warmth. They both gasp for air, staring at each other.
It is the beginning of something serious, Aziraphale knows it deep in his heart.
The thought is exciting and terrifying in equal measure.
Before he can think any more, he leans forward for a final soft peck on Crowley's lips, lingering slightly.
Then he pulls back, removing his hands from Crowley's waist and says, "Goodnight, Crowley."
Crowley, looking dazed, says "Night, angel."
Aziraphale walks away before he can yield to temptation and ask to come inside.
It's Monday morning, and Crowley is spiraling.
He's up early, already in the kitchen at 8 AM and getting in Newt's way. Poor man probably wants him to fuck off, but Crowley has a legitimate reason to be here. There's lots of prep to do for the week ahead.
He blasts Queen in his headphones and sets about making a list of tasks for the week ahead. It's the only way his frazzled brain will allow him to focus, because a certain angel keeps intruding upon his thoughts, pushing everything else out.
Crowley can't stop thinking about how soft Aziraphale's hair had been between his fingers, how that kiss had warmed him from the inside out, how that feeling had lingered for the rest of the night and into the daylight hours as Crowley tossed and turned, unable to fall into a deep sleep.
Crowley can't remember the last time he felt so comfortable in the presence of someone he barely knows at all. Since the death of his mom and Lucy, it has been very hard for him to get close to anyone. Their deaths left scars that generally prevent him from pursuing any kind of deep relationship, platonic or otherwise, and the thought of opening himself up to something serious makes him feel incredibly vulnerable.
Relax, he tells himself firmly. You don't have to jump into a relationship right away. Just see where it goes.
Crowley continues making his list, adding one column for tasks and one column for his shopping list. Thanksgiving dinner will require a trip down the road to the nearest Hy-Vee to bolster the stock of produce Crowley has on hand, so he includes a note to ask Mr. Fell to borrow his truck.
That's another reason the idea of getting involved with Aziraphale terrifies Crowley. His employers are lovely people, and he would be lucky to truly become a part of the family. But what happens if it doesn't work out? If he and Aziraphale have a falling out, how would he face the Fells day in and day out, especially if Crowley is the one to mess it all up? He can't stand the thought of losing this job and these lovely people. He's not sure he would survive it.
You are getting ahead of yourself, you absolute disaster. Get it together and take it one day at a time.
Crowley finishes his list, then goes back to it, considers for a second, and adds one final item at the bottom.
*Flowers for Aziraphale - yellow roses?
Monday morning passes in a haze for Aziraphale. Sleeping was hit-or-miss the previous night - he was too excited to fully settle down. He wakes early only to alternatively doze in bed and laze in the armchair.
He can't make heads or tails of the situation with Crowley. Never before in his life has he felt such an immediate connection to anyone, as if they had known each other for six thousand years rather than only two days. The ease with which he falls into conversation with Crowley, how comfortable they had been with his family last night, all adds up to something Aziraphale could never have dreamed would happen to him.
And oh, that kiss. How lovely it had been, the electricity that had coursed between them, the way Crowley's hands had felt cradling the back of his head as he had held Aziraphale close. Aziraphale absolutely wants more of that, wants to explore any possibility of establishing a relationship with Crowley.
The stark contrast between Gabriel and Crowley further cements Aziraphale's belief that this is something special. The only thing his relationship with Gabriel left him with was a nagging sense of self-doubt and fairly regular panic attacks, and now that he's on the other side of it, a sense that he has seriously dodged a bullet.
The question is, does Crowley feel the same way?
To stop himself ruminating too long on the subject, Aziraphale heads over to his parent's house for breakfast. He doesn't find anyone in the kitchen, and remembers that Muriel still has school today, so he's assuming his mom is out dropping them off. The truck is gone too, so his dad must be out somewhere.
Aziraphale makes some coffee and scrounges a leftover cinnamon roll from the previous day, returns to his room to continue reading The Shining, and dozes off for awhile. He wakes up again around 11 AM when he hears a knock at the door. Startling a little bit, he runs a hand through his hair and tries to shake off the lingering sleepiness.
He opens the door and it's Crowley.
Crowley is standing at his door, holding a vase full of yellow roses, looking extremely nervous and utterly adorable.
Aziraphale lets out a breathy sigh and says, "Hello, Crowley."
"Yeah, um, hi," says Crowley in a rush. "How are you this morning? I could not sleep. Too excited. Thinking about last night. Um, these are for you."
Crowley thrusts the flowers into Aziraphale's hands, who takes them with slightly shaking hands.
"You remembered," he says, softly, "You remembered that yellow roses are my favorite." He looks at Crowley, who is gazing at him with those amber eyes that Aziraphale has already grown to adore, filled with warmth and affection.
"Yeah, well," says Crowley, "it's easy to remember things when it comes to you."
Aziraphale smiles, places the flowers on a side table, and kisses Crowley, who kisses him back with a reverence that Aziraphale feels deep in his bones.
Crowley breaks away far too quickly, groaning slightly. "I gotta get to the kitchen. Almost lunchtime. But can I see you afterward? Maybe for awhile in the afternoon before the dinner rush?"
Aziraphale nods and says yes. He's never been more sure of anything in his life.
So begins three of the most memorable days of Aziraphale's life. He and Crowley take long walks in the break between lunch and dinner; they meet for drinks after the dinner rush; they exchange numbers and text each other at all hours, texts full of silly memes and quips and sweet nothings that Aziraphale wants to save for the rest of his life.
They talk, and talk, and talk, and when they're done talking they talk some more, covering all facets of their pasts, sharing with each other things they have shared with no one else.
Crowley tells Aziraphale that he once dreamed of being an astronomer; Aziraphale shares his silly secret ambition to become a stage magician. Crowley tells Aziraphale more about the time after his mom and sister's death; Aziraphale tells Crowley how he met Gabriel and how the panic attacks started.
It's Wednesday afternoon when this conversation occurs, and Crowley asks him the million dollar question.
"What was it that made you guys split up in the first place?"
Aziraphale sighs. "Well, I suppose you witnessed the actual end of our relationship, but he asked me to take a break because we disagreed on what we wanted our future to look like. Specifically, whether or not he wanted to have children. I wanted them. He didn't."
Crowley looks thoughtful. "I take it he wasn't up front with this at the beginning of your relationship?"
"No," says Aziraphale. "He said whatever he thought I wanted to hear, I suspect because he wanted to get into my pants."
Crowley blanches at this. "What a douchenozzle."
Aziraphale barks out a laugh. "Douchenozzle? What the actual hell does that mean?"
Crowley says, "It means that I kind of hate his guts. Because he hurt you."
Aziraphale takes Crowley's hand in his and squeezes it tight, trying to convey what this means to him, that Crowley is so indignant on his behalf, that Crowley cares so deeply for his feelings.
They talk, and talk, and talk, and when they're done talking they stop talking and start kissing.
They make out like a couple of teenagers behind trees while out on a walk, in the backseat of one or the other's cars after drinks in the evening, in the kitchen while Newt and the other staff members aren't around. It is exhilarating and intoxicating, and Aziraphale never wants it to stop. It makes him feel alive in a way he hasn't in a long time, in a way he has possibly never felt.
When Aziraphale isn't with Crowley, he spends time with his family, and that fills him with almost as much joy as the hours spent with Crowley. They surround him with warmth and chatter as they work on readying the barn for the Thanksgiving meal.
Muriel has the day off school Wednesday so they all go to brunch at The Garden Bar, where Sarah and Aziraphale get a little tipsy on mimosas. Daniel takes Aziraphale on a tour of the cannery, telling him about the planned upgrades and new equipment he hopes to invest in. Muriel talks his ear off about books, as they are wont to do, and Aziraphale delights in it.
They all tease him gently about his new friendship with Crowley, but underneath is an undercurrent of pure affection. He feels their support and acceptance and everything about it is deeply comforting, like it was meant to be.
Aziraphale doesn't run into Gabriel, doesn't seek out a meeting. In fact, Gabriel and his new partner rarely cross his mind, and for that he is thankful.
It's Wednesday evening, and Crowley has asked Aziraphale to come by the restaurant after the dinner rush, saying he has a surprise.
When Aziraphale walks in, there are a few couples and one family still lingering over dessert, but the restaurant is mostly empty. The host leads him to a table in the back corner, where he lights a candle and returns with a serving tray that has a number of plates covered with silver lids on it. There's soft music playing and Aziraphale settles in comfortably, waiting for Crowley to appear.
After only about five minutes, a soft voice sounds from behind Aziraphale. "Hey, angel."
The endearment is so filled with warmth and affection that Aziraphale can barely breathe. He turns to meet Crowley's eyes as he leans in and places a soft kiss on Aziraphale's lips. They linger for just a moment, breathing each other in, then Crowley sits down across from Aziraphale and pours them both a glass of wine.
Aziraphale raises an eyebrow and says, "So, Crowley, what is this surprise you've been going on about?"
Crowley says, "Well, it's not really all that much, but I happened to have a conversation with Muriel where your favorite foods came up. They say you're rather partial to a good crepe, and I got pretty good at them during my internship, so I made some for you!"
And with a flourish, he pulls the lid off one of the plates.
Crowley puts on a silly TV show announcer voice and says, "First off we have Crepes Suzette in an orange sauce made with fresh squeezed oranges from right here at the Flaming Sword and flambéed by yours truly."
He moves on to the next plate and with another flourish removes the lid and says, "Up next we have the highly sought after Nutella and banana crepes - a match made in Heaven!"
The next lid comes up. "Let's not forget some savory options with a little protein - here we have crepes with cured ham, a fried egg, and Gruyère cheese!"
The final lid is removed and Crowley says, "And for the coup de grâce, the English classic of strawberries and cream for my wannabe British man!"
Aziraphale is stunned into silence. The crepes smell delicious, and they look perfectly made, the dough exactly the right consistency, all of them folded delicately and garnished beautifully.
Eventually Aziraphale realizes that he hasn't said anything, he's just drooling like an idiot over the crepes, so he chooses to say thank you by getting up and capturing Crowley's clever mouth in a kiss.
They sway together for a minute, then Crowley breaks away and says "Wow, didn't realize that breakfast foods would have such an amorous effect on you. Remind me to make them more often, wouldn't you?"
Aziraphale raises his eyebrows and says, "My dear, are you trying to seduce me using breakfast foods? Because I assure you, it is most - definitely - working." He punctuates each word with a soft kiss on both Crowley's cheeks, ending with his lips.
Crowley's face turns a very endearing shade of pink and he splutters some random consonants at this, and Aziraphale is secretly delighted to have flustered him. He decides to put Crowley out of his misery and says, "Thank you, Crowley. This all looks lovely."
They sit down and choose a plate of crepes each, alternating bites from each other's plates until they've finished the first two, when they swap their plates for the others. As it has all week, the conversation flows easily between them.
Once the last morsel has disappeared, Aziraphale dabs his mouth with his napkin and says, "That was absolutely scrumptious."
Crowley says softly, "I'm glad you liked it, angel. Which one was your favorite?"
Aziraphale says, "That seems unfair, asking me to pick. They were all so delicious!"
"Humor me. If you had to pick, which one was your favorite?"
Aziraphale sighs. "Okay, if I must pick, I'd say the Crepes Suzette. The flambe really puts a fine touch on them."
Crowley smiles his toothy grin and says, "Noted. So, when I want to make you breakfast, now I'll know what to make. Mission accomplished, this night has officially served its purpose. Va-voom, sorted. Now we can go to bed."
Aziraphale says, teasingly, "Oh we can, now can we?"
Crowley turns pink again, realizing too late the innuendo in his words. "Oh! I mean, uh, I just meant, now we can go to bed having accomplished our mission and, like, go to bed in our own separate beds, not, you know…." he trails off sheepishly.
Aziraphale says, in a much more serious tone, "For the record, I would like to do that. Go to bed together, I mean."
Crowley just stares at Aziraphale, his mouth hanging open, eyebrows raised in shock. Aziraphale, realizing that he may have come on a bit too strong, backtracks a little bit. "But no pressure, my dear, that might be moving a little too fast, I'm sorry."
Crowley says, a little hoarsely, "Is it moving too fast for you, angel?"
Aziraphale pauses for a minute, his eyes fixed on Crowley's lovely amber ones, and answers in the most honest way that he can. "Crowley, since the day we met, when I opened my eyes and saw your beautiful face for the first time and you said to me, 'There you are,' in that sweet voice, I was completely gone for you. Yes, I would like you to take me to bed."
Crowley exhales sharply and says "Angel."
He stands up, pulling Aziraphale out of his chair and into his arms, and minutes later they are out the door and heading towards Crowley's cottage.
Thanksgiving morning dawns cloudy. The weather is expected to be warmer than usual later in the day, but the morning chill hangs onto Crowley as he walks from his cottage to the kitchen. It's early, the sun barely up above the horizon, and he pauses for a moment at the door to the kitchen to inhale deeply, trying to shake off the fatigue and clear his head.
He can't stop replaying their candlelit dinner, Aziraphale's delight over the crepes and the approval Crowley could hear in the little appreciative moans he made that that absolutely drove him insane. He can't stop replaying how the evening ended, with their bodies tangled up together in Crowley's bed, all urgent mouths and hands and whispered adoration….
All of these memories swirl in a whirlpool of confusion in Crowley's head, with one stark realization at its center.
I'm falling in love with him.
And on the heels of that thought:
He will be leaving soon.
Crowley enters the kitchen and switches on the coffee pot. Today is definitely a day for extra caffeine.
He left Aziraphale sleeping in his bed, but not before leaving a note on the bedside table to tell the angel that he had to head into the kitchen. The sight of a sleeping angel in his bed, curls mussed up and lovely face pillow-creased, was almost too much for Crowley to bear, and yet he lingered for a moment, just looking.
Just in case this is the only time.
Back in the kitchen, Crowley turns his attention to the turkeys. He is not one to actually put his stuffing in his turkeys while they cook, so he will bake the stuffing later. Instead, he preps lemons, garlic, onions and fresh herbs to put inside the cavity of each bird to infuse their flavors in the meat. He removes each turkey from its overnight brine and pats them clean, stuffing each with the flavorful produce and rubbing soft salted butter between the skin and the meat.
Two of the turkeys will be baked in the traditional way, and the other two will be deep fried by Daniel a little later in the morning. It's something new he tried a few years ago and it has caught on pretty hard, and Crowley is happy to oblige, although he personally prefers the traditional cooking method.
Crowley continues in his preparations, dicing the celery and onions for the stuffing, scrubbing and peeling potatoes, putting pies in the oven, everything guided by the list he made earlier in the week, but the back of his head continues to churn on the problem of Aziraphale.
Crowley should not have yielded to temptation, he knows this. It was likely too fast and too soon. But oh, as much as Crowley probably should regret it, he doesn't.
It had been one of the best nights of his life.
The onions and celery are cooking, the water is boiling for the potatoes, and Crowley inhales deeply. He drinks a little more coffee, checks the edges of the crusts on his pies, and after a moment realizes what he has to do.
He opens his phone and texts Aziraphale.
Crowley: fancy a walk after thanksgiving dinner? fend off the sleepies?
A few minutes later, his phone buzzes.
Aziraphale: Yes, but I will say, the sleepies are one of my favorite parts of Thanksgiving. Then again, you might be my new favorite part of Thanksgiving ❤️
The message makes Crowley feel butterflies in his stomach, and he feels better knowing he has a plan, because there's something he wants to ask Aziraphale.
Crowley: alright angel, it's a date 😀❤️
After this, Crowley is able to focus entirely on the meal preparations. He is determined to make this one of the best Thanksgiving meals The Flaming Sword has ever seen.
But first, one more message.
Crowley: p.s. you're my new favorite part of thanksgiving too. but a close second is the stuffing. ❤️
Aziraphale: I'll stuff you. 🍆
Crowley: ngk!!! angel!!!
SIR
you can't just text me stuff like that, i've got work to do!
see you later, I'll need help carrying dishes into the barn, no eggplants at Thanksgiving dinner
Aziraphale: 😇
Crowley switches off the sound on his phone and pockets it, a big stupid silly grin on his face.
The barn looks absolutely stunning.
The traditional long table is set right in the middle of the old floorboards, which are polished and shiny. There are strands of fairy lights running from one end of the barn to the other, crisscrossing each other and hanging down above the table. There is garland strung on the walls, dotted with red bows and ornaments, and a large and sumptuously decorated Christmas tree stands tall at one end. There is a distinct smell of cinnamon in the air, coming from the scented pine cones that Muriel found at the market.
All of the sights and smells wrap around Aziraphale as he enters the barn, and it's like falling back in time. It always makes him feel like a kid again. The stereo system is playing Mannheim Steamroller's Christmas, which is always the first album the Fells play at Thanksgiving. For them, it's like a kickoff of the festive season, and Aziraphale feels light and happy as he places the tray he is carrying on the buffet table, humming along to Deck the Halls.
A few more trips with the entire family helping has the buffet table stuffed to the brim with delicious looking dishes. The bed and breakfast guests filter in, bit by bit, and Aziraphale greets the people he recognizes.
Aziraphale knows Gabriel and his new partner will be here, but the knowledge doesn't stress him out as much as he thought it would. If you had asked him when he arrived last Friday how he felt about it, his answer would be much different than it is now.
Now, he is immensely looking forward to sitting with his family and Crowley, enjoying the wine, the company, and the food that Crowley has been working on all day. He knows Crowley is nervous, but if the crepes last night were any indicator, Aziraphale knows that Crowley is going to knock everyone's socks off today.
Most of the guests have taken their seats, and Daniel stands by his chair at the head of the table. Coventry Carol plays gently in the background. Aziraphale notices that Gabriel and Bee haven't arrived yet, and he wonders dimly if they just won't show up at all.
"Welcome to Thanksgiving dinner at The Flaming Sword!" he says, spreading his arms wide. "We are thrilled that you have chosen to join us for this holiday. We are not very religious around here, but we like to use this time for all the guests to introduce themselves to each other and to say a prayer if they wish. Please, let's get to know each other a bit!"
The table erupts in conversation, people reach around to shake hands, and a few guests bow their heads in prayer after the general round of introductions has died away. After a suitable amount of time, Daniel stands up again.
"We've had a little transition at The Flaming Sword this year. Jack Holloway, our chef of nearly 25 years, decided to retire earlier this summer. We all miss Jack, but we are immensely pleased with his replacement. Everyone, please give a round of applause for our new chef, Anthony Crowley!"
Crowley, who had been putting serving spoons into the dishes and generally checking for any last minute problems, looks up, a little startled but also pleased. He gives a sheepish little wave, a blush rising in his cheek.
Aziraphale thinks he is the most precious thing in the world.
Then, everyone's attention is diverted by a disturbance at the door. Aziraphale looks over in time to see Gabriel and Bee enter. Bee is a small, prickly looking person with a perpetually grumpy look on their face. Gabriel follows them, smiling jovially as if he were host of a TV game show and not a person showing up late to Thanksgiving dinner.
Gabriel opens his mouth and says, "Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! What a wonderful venue!" He volunteers no apology for being late, and without acknowledging the looks of annoyance from the Fells, Gabriel and Bee fall into their seats.
Daniel recovers quickly and says, "Shall we eat?"
Everyone troops up and forms a line at the buffet table, loading up their plates, chattering happily. Crowley hovers nervously behind the table, watching for any problems to arise. Aziraphale comes to stand by him.
"This all looks rather scrumptious, my dear," Aziraphale says, trying to calm the man's nervous energy a little bit.
Crowley crosses his arms and taps his foot. "I'm wondering if I should have made more macaroni and cheese. And I'm not sure if the potatoes have enough sour cream. Maybe I should go get more." He turns on his heel and makes for the kitchen, but Aziraphale puts a hand on his arm.
"Crowley," he says softly. "Look at me a second."
Crowley's eyes meet his, and Aziraphale looks at him steadily and says, "You did an amazing job. Everything here smells delicious. If it's even half as good as those crepes were last night, you will have succeeded."
Crowley lets out a breath. "Thanks, angel," he says, "that's really helpful. You should go get your plate, wouldn't want you to miss out on anything."
Aziraphale says, "Yes, but I'd rather wait for you. I want to sit next to you and eat our first Thanksgiving meal together."
Crowley looks at Aziraphale. "Our first Thanksgiving? Does that mean you're expecting another meal later today? Because I gotta say, angel, I'm exhausted and the kitchen is officially closed until Saturday."
Aziraphale just laughs and says, "No, you silly man, I'm saying that I'd like to be next to you next Thanksgiving too. And maybe the one after that. And the one after that. If it's not too forward."
Crowley swallows hard, and his first attempt at speech comes out hoarse.
"I'd-" He stops, clears his throat, and tries again.
"I'd like to spend as many Thanksgivings with you as possible, angel."
Identical smiles spread across their faces, and they move to stand in line for their food, glancing at each other occasionally, as if to check if the other person is still there, still real. There is so much bubbling warmth in Aziraphale's chest he can barely breathe.
When they finally sit at the table, everyone has already started eating, so Aziraphale digs in and happily makes conversation with his family and Crowley. The sounds of knives and forks meld with the happy voices on all sides, and the smells of the food and the cinnamon and the general outdoorsy scents waft around them. The warm glow of the faces around his end of the table make Aziraphale feel extremely cozy. It is the perfect Thanksgiving.
That is, until Gabriel stands up.
Aziraphale had, until that point, completely forgotten that his ex-boyfriend was also at the table. His internal radar pings with alarm as Gabriel raises up his wine glass and obnoxiously hits it with his fork, the sound ringing out above the happily chattering voices, which die away slowly. Aziraphale realizes with a surprise that Bee is no longer sitting to Gabriel's right.
Gabriel clears his throat and says, in a far too bright and cheery voice, "Happy Thanksgiving everyone! I just wanted to quickly thank the Fell family for hosting this wonderful meal!" He applauds lightly and people join in, somewhat halfheartedly, before Gabriel continues.
"Thanksgiving is a time to be grateful for the blessings that have been bestowed upon us. This gratitude helps shape our lives in the years to come. This year, my greatest personal blessing is sitting right here at this table, and I wanted to make sure that he knows the way I feel about him."
Aziraphale feels a shiver of dread run down his spine. Gabriel turns to him, fixing him with that all-too-bright smile and cold eyes.
"Aziraphale, I know we've had our problems, but I am thankful that you are in my life. If you'd like to try again, I would like to give our relationship another chance."
Aziraphale's mouth falls open in shock. His expression is mirrored in the members of his family, and many of the guests are looking at each other in confusion and surprise.
Aziraphale meets Crowley's eyes, amber irises wide open in shock, and Aziraphale can clearly read the fear that lives there. He opens his mouth to speak, but before he can, he is interrupted by his mother.
Sarah Fell says, "Are you fucking kidding me?"
Muriel lets out a loud snort of laughter. They quickly stifle it in their hands, but the damage is done - people up and down the table laugh nervously, and Daniel stands up slowly, his eyes fixed on Gabriel, who has stopped smiling.
"I think my wife hit the nail on the head. You're unbelievable," says Daniel, towering at the head of the table, his face slowly turning red in anger. "First, you show up here with a new partner when you are still technically dating my son. You come into my home, making all sorts of unreasonable demands, because you knew you could due to your partner's status at Trip Advisor. You show up late to Thanksgiving dinner, and then you have the audacity to stand up and talk about being thankful when you've already thrown away one of the best things you had in your life. I must ask you, very kindly, to leave this table and leave this farm forthwith. You are not welcome here any longer."
Gabriel is, to Aziraphale's delight, rendered speechless. It takes Aziraphale a few seconds to find his own voice, but when he does, it is full of conviction.
"Gabriel, very sorry to break it to you, but we won't be getting back together. Mind how you go." Aziraphale accompanies this with a little wave of his fingers.
Gabriel's face has gone red with anger, but he doesn't protest. He spins around and stalks away, and his attempt to slam the large and heavy barn door behind him has everyone breaking into peals of laughter.
Finally, giving up the attempt, Gabriel stalks away into the late afternoon and the laughter at the table dies slowly away. Everyone looks to the head of the table, suddenly on guard.
No one seems quite sure how to break the moment until Muriel pipes up and says, "Well, that was a thing."
Everyone at the table relaxes, and a few people laugh again. The chatter starts to pick up, and Aziraphale turns to Crowley to find the man already looking at him with that steady amber gaze.
"You alright, angel?" Crowley asks, reaching out to grasp Aziraphale's hand.
Aziraphale exhales a little shakily, the adrenaline of the previous moments dissipating, leaving him a little off balance. "Yes, I think so. Are you okay?"
Crowley looks away from Aziraphale for a moment. When he looks back, Aziraphale sees some of the fear he saw earlier returning to his eyes. Crowley swallows hard.
"I'm okay. But I think we should talk. You ready for that walk now?"
Aziraphale looks at him for a minute, then nods. They both get up from the table. As they do, Sarah says, "Aziraphale, are you okay, dear?"
Aziraphale walks around and stoops down to place a kiss on her forehead. "Thanks mom. I'm okay. And you're both pretty great, you know that?" He reaches out to grasp Daniel's shoulder. "Thanks for having my back."
Sarah's eyes are a little over bright as she says, "Always and forever, my dear." Daniel simply nods, already tucking back into his food.
Aziraphale says, "Crowley and I are just going to go for a little walk, we'll be back."
They exit through the same door that Gabriel did, but instead of heading towards the main house, they circle around the back of the barn and down the slope of lawn leading from the barn down to the creek that runs along the edge of the property.
In the center of the lawn right near the creek's edge stands a little gazebo, and Aziraphale and Crowley both head towards it. The gazebo is small but cozy, fairy lights strung up by the ceiling and music from the barn piping from the speakers installed in discreet places. Weddings are hosted here almost every weekend in the summer, and the setting is idyllic. Right now, though, it is chilly in the gazebo, the late afternoon November sun hidden behind the trees, and the first of the two versions of God Rest Ye, Merry Gentlemen on the Mannheim Steamroller album is playing through the speakers.
Aziraphale is inclined to sit down on one of the benches, but he senses Crowley's nervous energy ramping up and decides to remain standing. Crowley paces a few times back and forth, looking at Aziraphale twice before looking away again. He looks like he's trying to speak but succeeds only in opening and closing his mouth a few times. Aziraphale just watches him for a moment, unsure if he should break into Crowley's anxious train of thought or not.
Finally, Crowley turns to him and sort of exhales a string of words. "Right, okay, yes, so…" He stops, inhales, and looks down as if to steel himself, his right fist clenched at his hip, his other hand swinging helplessly from the other side.
He looks back up at Aziraphale then, and there is something pleading in his eyes that makes Aziraphale's stomach do a free fall.
"The thing is, I really like you. I really like you, Aziraphale, and I know this is all probably moving too fast but I need to know, I really need to know if you were serious when you said you wanted to spend your Thanksgivings with me, and what that means for us. Because it's not just Thanksgiving that I want to spend with you. I'd - I'd like to spend…."
At this, words fail Crowley again, and Aziraphale can hear the emotion catching in his throat as he breaks eye contact and looks away. Aziraphale lets out a relieved, shaky sort of sigh and steps close to Crowley, reaching out to take both of the man's cold hands in his.
"Oh, my dear," he says, "I'd like to spend more than just Thanksgiving with you, too."
Crowley is unable to meet Aziraphale's eyes. He looks off into the distance, and a sheen of tears fill his eyes. "But….you don't live here. You'll be leaving as soon as this break is over. You've got a whole life I don't know about back in Omaha. And I….I don't do so well with people leaving. Not after….not after Mom and Lucy."
It is this final admission that makes the tears overflow and spill down Crowley's face.
Aziraphale says, softly, "Look at me, Crowley."
It takes a moment, but Crowley finally does, his amber eyes finding Aziraphale's, red-rimmed and shining and so terribly beautiful. Aziraphale reaches up, placing his hands on either side of Crowley's face, using his thumbs to brush the tears away.
Aziraphale works around the emotion rising in his own throat to say, "Do you know that these have been some of the best days of my life? They've been filled with more love that I've experienced this entire year. Nobody in my life has ever made me feel the way you do, certainly and especially not Gabriel."
He pauses a moment, and Crowley's gaze turns hopeful, his eyebrows lifting slightly.
Aziraphale continues, "And as far as everything else? My job is just a job. My apartment is just an apartment. All of that pales in comparison to the way I've felt while being here this week. In case you couldn't tell…I really, really like you too."
Crowley lets out a long, slow breath, and Aziraphale can feel the tension seeping out of his body. He lets his hands fall to Crowley's shoulders, squeezing them lightly and letting his hands drop.
"I know that these things don't erase reality," Aziraphale continues. "I can't leave my job mid-year without breaking my contract. But it doesn't mean that I won't visit you every chance I get, and you can visit too, and we will find a way to work it out. I'll look for jobs in this area, and if it doesn't work out right away I can work for my dad for awhile. I am sure they'll be thrilled to have me back around here, and I didn't realize how much I missed them until I came back this week."
Crowley's brow furrowed. "You'd do that…for me? Just uproot everything? It almost doesn't seem fair. That's asking a lot of you."
Aziraphale rolls his eyes very slightly, a loving, exasperated expression spreading across his face. "Did you not just listen when I said the whole 'more love than I've experienced all year' bit? It hardly seems like much of a sacrifice, at this point, if it means I can be with you."
Crowley bites his lip and wrestles with himself for a moment. Finally, he blurts out, "I love you, angel. Come here when you can, and be with me."
Aziraphale feels a bloom of warmth spread from his chest to the very tips of his fingers and toes. "Oh Crowley…I love you too." Then they move together and Aziraphale is enveloped by the warm heat of Crowley's arms as they come to rest on his back, and he nestles his head into the crook of Crowley's neck, inhaling the scent of him, his own arms wrapping around Crowley's waist.
It feels like this is the moment Aziraphale has been waiting for his whole life. They fit each other so perfectly and everything about it feels so impossibly right. They stand together in the deepening cold, clinging to each other, swaying slightly on the spot a little. Silent Night plays from the speakers, and they listen, and embrace, and all feels calm and bright in their world.
Finally, they move apart just a little, enough for Crowley to say, "There's one other thing we should probably talk about that we haven't. You haven't asked me if I want to have kids or not."
Aziraphale falls still, tension creeping back into his shoulders, but it is eased almost immediately by the roguish grin on Crowley's face. He decides to play along. "Okay, fine. Do you want to have kids?"
Crowley's grin spreads even wider. "Hell yes, angel. Always have."
Relieved, Aziraphale reaches his hands up to wrap them around the back of Crowley's neck, threading his hand through the gorgeous red hair. "Then it seems like we are on the same page." He tilts his head up and their lips meet at last.
All around them, the music swells, and there is a flurry of birdsong from the trees as they embrace, whispering promises to each other and promising even more with each kiss.
Later, as they walk back up to the barn, lips kiss swollen and faces pink from the cold, Crowley barks out a sudden laugh. "Angel, do you realize that we actually achieved our original goal? We got Gabriel to get jealous and he tried to win you back."
Aziraphale is startled for a moment, then laughs too. "You know, I hadn't even thought about that since the first night we met. Too distracted by much more pleasant things." He reaches out and links their fingers together. Crowley smiles his dazzling smile and in that moment Aziraphale forgets everything else but his lovely face.
They come back into the barn, where Aziraphale's family is still sitting, although many of the guests have filtered out. Sarah immediately clocks their held hands and pink faces and a slow smile spreads across her face.
"Did you two have a nice….walk?" she says, with the merest hint of suggestion.
Aziraphale feels himself turning red again and realizes that she is going to be absolutely insufferable, but he finds that he doesn't actually mind in the slightest. "Yes, actually, it was quite lovely." He squeezes Crowley's hand and Crowley's face turns quite as red as his own.
They sit back down and Daniel says, "Well, this has certainly been an eventful Thanksgiving."
Crowley and Aziraphale smile at each other. "That's an understatement," Crowley says.
Aziraphale says, "Dad, what kind of trouble has Gabriel actually been causing? And did anyone notice that Bee left during dinner?"
Daniel and Sarah look at each other and roll their eyes. Daniel says, "Well, amongst other things, they insisted that Buddy Holly's 'Everyday' was played at Thanksgiving. I was not opposed in general, but they wanted that to be the only song played. On top of all the other ridiculous hoops we've jumped through this week, it was kind of the last straw for me. It's why they were late to dinner, I think, probably their own way of protesting."
Sarah chimes in, "As to why Bee left, I have an inkling, but no real evidence. I was in the lobby of the main house earlier today and heard them walking down the corridor arguing about something. Maybe it escalated during dinner. Either way, I wasn't inclined to pay them much attention."
Aziraphale says, "I really hope they don't write a bad review."
Daniel sighs. "It's out of our hands at this point, nothing much we can do about it. And either way, we have our loyal customers. It won't make much of a dent in the bottom line."
Muriel says, "I say good riddance to them," and everyone heartily agrees.
They finish their meal and linger a long time over wine, and as happy as Aziraphale has felt all week, the happiness is now amplified a thousand times by the knowledge that he is Crowley's, and Crowley is his. He smiles generously at Crowley all afternoon, holds his hand, slides their feet together under the table, and when he can feel the tension rising to a breaking point, he leans over and whispers a suggestion in Crowley's ear that makes him turn a boiling shade of red all the way to the tips of his ears.
"I think Crowley and I are going to retire for the afternoon," Aziraphale says, rather boldly, to his family. "But first we'll get the dishes back to the house."
Sarah waves them away with one hand. "Go on, you two. Leave it to us."
Crowley falters for a moment. "Are you sure, Mrs. Fell? Kind of seems like I'm falling down on my job here."
Sarah pierces him with a stern gaze packed with motherly love. "Crowley, you're basically part of this family now. Please call me Sarah. And don't worry about the dishes, you've earned a break." She accompanies this with a little wink, and Aziraphale and Crowley escape before they can suffer any more embarrassment.
Once outside in the dwindling light, Crowley says, "Your mom is far too perceptive for her own good, you know that?"
Aziraphale sighs happily. "Yes, she is. But somehow I find I don't mind." He flashes Crowley a happy grin. "Welcome to the family…my love," he says, gently.
Crowley's eyes fill with tears again. "It's….it's all just….all of this is more than I could have ever dreamed of. It's kind of terrifying, you know? But in a good way."
Aziraphale stops in the middle of the path and holds Crowley's hands in his. "I know. I feel the same way. But we have each other, and that's more than enough for me." He pulls Crowley's hands up to his, placing a kiss on the knuckles of one hand, eliciting a breathless laugh from Crowley.
They walk the rest of the way to Crowley's cottage, where they spend the rest of the evening basking in the glow of their newly declared love. The promises they made are whispered again and again as they move together under the covers, and Aziraphale can see the whole future stretched out in front of them, like a country road stretching out to the horizon, as he holds Crowley close in the waning hours of the best Thanksgiving of his life.
The next three days pass by far too quickly, and all too soon it's time for Aziraphale to drive back to Omaha so he can go to work on Monday. He never expected leaving to be easy, but he was still not prepared for the crushing weight on his chest to be so relentless.
Aziraphale knows Crowley feels the same way he does, although he does a reasonably good job of keeping his emotions in check as Aziraphale says goodbye to his family. Crowley and Aziraphale had said a rather more private goodbye earlier in the day, ending with tears on both sides.
To Aziraphale's surprise, Muriel had also wept when embracing him. It furthered his resolve that he was doing the right thing in taking the next steps to come back home, and promised Muriel that he would see them again at Christmastime.
Aziraphale has only been in the car for five minutes before the phone rings and Crowley's name pops up on the screen. Answering it with a smile, Aziraphale says, "Miss me already?"
Crowley sniffles. "Duh. Silly angel. I thought I'd call and keep you company on the drive."
Aziraphale feels the weight on his chest lightening just a little bit. They talk the entire way home.
To keep himself busy in the three weeks before Christmas, when he isn't at school, Aziraphale does a number of important things.
He packs up the remains of Gabriel's things at his apartment and unceremoniously dumps them on the man's front stoop. He then sends Gabriel a text to say he has done so, then blocks the number and removes it from his phone, which feels extremely cleansing.
Aziraphale also begins to update his resume. He spends quite a bit of time refining it and readying a cover letter that he can customize for individual jobs as any opportunities arise. He also begins bookmarking school district websites within driving distance of The Flaming Sword and sets up Google alerts for job postings at those schools.
In between trips to the store to finish his Christmas shopping, he starts going through all of the things that have accumulated in his apartment since he moved in, putting things he no longer needs in a box for the Goodwill and packing some things up in boxes. In one of their phone conversations, Crowley had suggested, in a forced causal tone, that he start to bring some of his own stuff over at Christmas. Just so he would feel more at home when he came to visit, of course.
On the Sunday evening of the last week before winter break, Aziraphale hears a knock at the door and opens it to find Crowley, standing there looking resplendent in a long black coat and holding a vase of yellow flowers. It is so reminiscent of that first day he stopped by Aziraphale's room that his heart pounds and tears spring to his eyes. "Crowley! What a lovely surprise! You didn't tell me you were coming!"
Aziraphale ushers him inside, where Crowley drops the flowers onto the side table before sweeping Aziraphale into a tight embrace, followed by a deep and passionate kiss.
"Wouldn't want to ruin the surprise, would I?" Crowley says after breaking away. "God, I missed you," he purrs, nuzzling his face into Aziraphale's neck.
"The feeling is mutual," Aziraphale says, breathless with happiness.
They spend the evening tangled up in each other's arms, and after school on Monday they head out onto the town to do a little shopping and go to dinner.
Once they've been seated at the restaurant and placed their orders, a nervous look shifts across Crowley's face. He says, in a deliberately light tone, "Haven't changed your mind, then, angel?"
Gazing at Crowley's face in the candlelit restaurant, Aziraphale knows he has never felt more certain of anything in his life, and tells Crowley so, in all the ways he possibly can. Then, he takes Crowley home and tells him again and again, this time without words.
Christmas vacation comes, and it is everything Aziraphale dreamed it would be. The usual flurry of activity at the farm and the family traditions that he cherishes keep him busy right up until Christmas itself, and it is all the more exciting this year with Crowley by his side, smiling his toothy smile, his amber eyes twinkling with warmth and love.
Christmas Day passes in a haze of presents, delicious food, naps by the fire, and the company of all his favorite people in the world. Aziraphale doesn't remember ever feeling so content. The rest of the week races by, and soon it's New Years Eve and Crowley is kissing him at midnight and Aziraphale goes into the new year with love and hope surrounding him.
To everyone's surprise, an article comes out on the Trip Advisor website about The Flaming Sword , and it is much better than they expected it would be after the Thanksgiving kerfuffle. It does actually result in an uptick in reservations during the off season.
The end of the vacation is even harder on everyone than Thanksgiving had been, and it takes Aziraphale a few days to recover from the emotional stress of having to leave. He knows that these feelings are certain to be hitting Crowley harder in different ways, so Aziraphale does his best to reassure him whenever he can on the phone and in their text messages.
January and February are long, cold months, and the realities of a long distance relationship close in on them from time to time. Crowley and Aziraphale manage to get through it by supporting each other and visiting as often as they possibly can, and the sweetness of their reunions make up for the long stretches of time apart.
In early March, Aziraphale receives an excited phone call from Muriel. Their voice is so loud on the phone that Aziraphale moves it away from his ear with a wince.
"AZIRAPHALE!" They exclaim. "DO YOU BELIEVE IN DESTINY??"
Aziraphale laughs and gingerly returns the phone to his ear to say, "Good lord, Muriel, tone it down a notch so I don't lose my hearing before I turn 30. What in the world is going on?"
Muriel goes on excitedly. "Remember Mrs. Landry?"
Aziraphale does remember the school librarian from his high school days, and he says so, wondering if he can guess where this is going, excitement flaring in his chest.
"Well," Muriel continues, "She's decided to retire at the end of the school year. Announced it to all the classes today. Her job is going to be open, Aziraphale, you can apply for it!"
Aziraphale feels his excitement rising. "Oh, Muriel, thanks for letting me know. I will get online and check it out and apply as soon as I can."
Muriel can't help themselves, it seems, and there is a loud squeal that makes Aziraphale move the phone away again.
"Take a breath, dear," he says, once he decides his ears are safe again. "I will apply as soon as I can, but remember there are no guarantees. I have to be the right fit for the job."
Muriel scoffs. "Come on, big brother, you know you'd be great. And something about this feels just like…..destiny, you know?"
Aziraphale softens inside at this. "Well, kiddo, I don't know if I believe in destiny, but this may change my mind in the end. Have you mentioned this to Crowley yet?"
Muriel says, "Nope, I called you as soon as I got home."
Aziraphale pauses for a moment. "Okay. Don't tell him. I don't want to get his hopes up too soon. Is that okay to ask of you?"
Muriel considers this for a moment. "Okay. I won't tell him. Should I tell Mom and Dad?"
Aziraphale says, "They're okay to tell. I just…don't want to disappoint Crowley. There haven't been any other jobs in the area yet and he gets a little anxious sometimes."
Muriel says, "Yeah. I know. He had such a rough time with things before he got here. I think he's afraid you're going to change your mind or something. I keep telling him that's not going to happen, because, you know, destiny. You guys were meant to be together."
Aziraphale has to swallow hard around the lump of emotion in his throat and it takes him a minute to speak. "Well, in any case, I'm glad he has you to talk to. Keep taking care of him for me, won't you?"
Muriel sighs. "Of course, big brother. Now get on your computer and look up that job, right now."
Aziraphale laughs. "Yes dear, right away. Anything else I can do for Your Highness?"
One last excited squeal from Muriel has Aziraphale hanging up with a laugh. He grabs his laptop and looks up the job.
To Aziraphale's immense frustration, Mrs. Landry's job doesn't get posted for another two weeks. He checks the website multiple times each day, and when it finally goes up, he has his application in within two hours.
Much to his surprise, Aziraphale has a phone call later the same day from Dr. Snyder, the principal of the the high school, who remembers him well from his own high school days. They exchange pleasantries and before he knows it, Aziraphale is being invited for an interview the very next Tuesday.
Aziraphale travels up on the requested day for the interview, and it goes better than he could have hoped for. His own teaching experience speaks for itself, and it doesn't hurt that he is well connected in the area. When the interview over, he asks them what their timeline is in deciding on which candidate they will offer the job to, crossing his fingers under the table for a speedy decision. The principal tells him likely by the end of the week, as they have three more people to interview before then.
Aziraphale drives back to Omaha with butterflies in his stomach. It had almost physically hurt him not to stop by The Flaming Sword after his interview, but he is still trying to keep the job a secret from Crowley until he knows which way it will go, and in any case spring break is the week after next and he will see Crowley and his family then.
Aziraphale waits out the rest of the week in a state of nervous anticipation. He deep cleans the apartment, working out his anxiety by tackling every last dusty corner, and does his best to sound normal when he talks on the phone with Crowley.
Finally, finally, he gets a phone call early on Friday morning.
It's from Dr. Snyder, offering him the job, and Aziraphale decides that maybe he does believe in destiny after all.
After accepting it with effusions of gratitude, Aziraphale hangs up, breathless with excitement. Then, on sheer impulse, he calls his current principal to say that he has suddenly taken ill and needs to leave school immediately.
But, of course, he doesn't go home. He gets right in his car and drives the two hours to The Flaming Sword to deliver the news to his family in person.
When he arrives, it's nearly lunch time, so Aziraphale heads directly to the kitchen. When he comes in, he is disappointed to see that Crowley isn't there. His assistant, Newt, stands over the stove, stirring some kind of sauce. He looks up and catches sight of Aziraphale, smiling in delight.
"Hey Aziraphale!" he says happily. "I didn't think we were expecting you this weekend! Crowley isn't here at the moment, he had to run over to get some extra eggs from Anathema."
Aziraphale quickly recovers from his initial disappointment and happily engages Newt in conversation. He's grown rather fond of the kid, and uses the time to tease Newt about his burgeoning relationship with the goat farmer herself.
Newt is in the middle of telling Aziraphale about Anathema's latest foray into tarot readings when Crowley walks in the door.
Aziraphale's heart overflows when he catches sight of Crowley's long, lean figure, the red hair that has gotten longer in the preceding months, and those amber eyes that alight with happiness when they fall on Aziraphale.
"Aziraphale! What - "
But his words are cut off when Aziraphale grabs him around the waist and lifts him up, hugging him and spinning him around in a tight circle, eliciting a surprised shout from Crowley.
Putting him down, Aziraphale grins up at Crowley's startled expression. "I got a job!" he says. "I got a job at Muriel's school. I'll be the high school librarian."
The surprise on Crowley's face gives away to sheer delight, and he gasps, "Oh angel, oh my God, that's so fantastic!"
Aziraphale takes Crowley's face in his hands and kisses him, pouring his adoration into the man he loves, until Crowley is breathless and trembling in his arms, and Aziraphale holds him close for a long, long time.
After that, the rest of the semester goes by surprisingly quickly. Aziraphale puts in his resignation at his current job and begins in the process of moving his things to Crowley's cottage over the course of numerous visits. He will have to break his lease to leave his apartment at the end of May, but he knows he can't wait a minute longer to be near Crowley, so the extra cost is worth it.
At long, long last, the last day of school arrives, and although Aziraphale is sad to say his goodbyes to his current students, he knows that everything works out for the best in the end. He is a little delayed getting out of town owing to a few of his students and coworkers wanting to say a more extended goodbye than he expected, but at long last he is on the road to The Flaming Sword.
The drive seems to take almost no time at all. The whole way, Aziraphale thinks about how the decision to come to his parents for Thanksgiving last year set in motion a chain of events that would alter the course of his entire life for the better. He thanks all the stars in the sky that his mom invited him to come out, and that he made the decision to go.
As he turns up the familiar drive, he realizes that he has arrived at exactly the right time. The sun is setting, and although in late May it doesn't catch the windows of the house in the same way it does in the winter, the wildflowers are all in bloom and the sun sets them alight with color. The flowers and the grass dance in the wind, and in the distance, four very familiar and beautiful people stand outside of his parent's house, one of them with long red hair hanging loose in the breeze.
Aziraphale is home, at long last.
Thanksgiving 2026
Crowley hums as he moves around the kitchen, the motions now as familiar and comfortable to him as they have ever been. This year he feels more confident in his Thanksgiving preparations, but it is still taking all of his willpower to focus on the tasks at hand, even as he has onions and celery cooking in the butter and multiple pots of water boiling for potatoes and six pies in the oven.
The thing taking up most of his focus right now is the weight of a small box in his pocket, and the question he will ask when he gives it to Aziraphale.
There is only a small sliver of doubt in his mind now, after a year of being together, and it is fueled mostly by his own anxiety and not by any indicator from the angel himself that it isn't exactly what he wants. They've even talked about it, pretty extensively. But it's still a thing you worry about, isn't it?
He loves you, you dolt. Just ask the question and be done with it. He's going to say yes.
Crowley smiles at the voice in his head, because it sounds exactly like a combination of his own mom and the woman who has become like a mother to him, who has welcomed him into her family without hesitation.
In this moment, Crowley feels a surge of love and affection for the whole lot of them, and makes a decision.
Calling Newt to watch over the food prep for a minute, Crowley leaves the kitchen with a spring in his step. He was going to wait until after dinner, but instead he finds Aziraphale in their cottage and asks him a question.
And of course, Aziraphale says yes.
And they live happily ever after.