Happy Holidays, Sous-le-Saule! (1 of 2)
TWO short fics for the price of one!
Title: Happy Holidays
Recipient: sous-le-saule
Characters: Aziraphale, Crowley
Rating: General
Word Count: 2,122
Notes: Thanks to storiesinsand for agreeing to read over this and correcting errors that I would have missed.
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: I do not own Aziraphale and Crowley. They belong to Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett.
Summary: It’s Christmas, and Crowley heads to the bookstore to celebrate with Aziraphale. He doesn’t expect it to be any different from the other times they’ve spent the holidays together, but he’s in for a surprise.
Crowley drove through the busy London streets in his 1926 black Bentley. The heater was on at full blast, and Tchaikovsky's “Another One Bites The Dust” blared from the sound system. Outside, people rushed around, trying to get in some last minute Christmas shopping before heading home for the night. Colorful lights hung from the store fronts, and the atmosphere was filled with festive energy.
Something that might have struck people as odd was the fact that Crowley did not hate Christmas. On the contrary, he rather enjoyed it. Despite the fact that Christmas was supposed to be a heavenly holiday, somewhere along the way, new traditions started being incorporated that were rather sinful. Crowley helped this happen, but he also gave humans credit for initiating ideas of their own. All around him, people zealously sought out material goods, glared enviously at the merchandise they could not afford, cursed at the shoppers that got in their way, and indulged in candy canes and Christmas cookies. Seeing this gave Crowley a warm feeling of a successful wile done well.
Typically, there are no parking spots outside of the bookstore, but one was magically available when Crowley arrived. He parked the Bentley there and climbed out. As usual, he wore a pair of dark sunglasses and a black winter coat to shield him from the cold. With a red present box tucked under his arm, he opened the door of the bookstore and entered.
Just as he expected, the inside was dolled up with various decorations. Lights were taped to the ceiling and the upper walls. A small pine tree in the corner was adorned with red and green ornaments. Fake snow covered the counter tops that were not nearby any books. In the background, an instrumental Christmas soundtrack could be faintly heard.
Not too long after, Aziraphale walked out of the back room. He was wearing a red and green tartan sweater and a red Santa cap. When he spotted Crowley, he beamed and headed towards him. “Crowley, dear,” he greeted enthusiastically. “Merry Christmas! I hope your day has been wonderful so far.”
Hearing this, Crowley said in a semi sarcastic tone, “Of course, angel. It’s Christmas, the time of present frenzy and family fighting.”
“Oh, hush, dear,” Aziraphale replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. “You can hang your coat up over there-” he gestured to a stand with multiple hooks sprouting out of it “- if you so desire. I have cocoa prepared for both of us.” With that said, Aziraphale disappeared through the doorway again.
Crowley rolled his eyes at the angel’s behavior, but something struck him as slightly off. He then decided to ignore it and followed Aziraphale.
On the table in the back room stood two mugs of hot cocoa. A candle was situated in the center, and it gave off a warm glow. In addition, a small, neatly wrapped rectangular box was placed on top of one of the mugs, and Crowley guessed that it was supposed to be for him.
His prediction turned out to be correct. Aziraphale picked up the box and brushed it off with his finger before handing it to him. “Here you go, dear. I got it just for you. I know you already one that you’re so fond of, but I figured that a new one wouldn’t hurt.”
This piqued his curiosity, and he carefully opened it to reveal a pristine, leather wrist watch. “Why, thanks, angel,” he said in an upbeat tone. “How thoughtful of you.” He slipped the box into his coat pocket and handed his gift to Aziraphale.
With the same care that Crowley had displayed, Aziraphale removed the lid on the box and peered inside. Almost instantly, his eyes widened and his face broke out into a huge grin.
Crowley smiled as well, watching the angel’s reaction. “I’m guessing that you like it.”
“Like it? This is the “Standing Fishes” Bible. Supposedly there are only a handful of copies left in the world.” He looked up at Crowley, his eyes practically shining. “I love it. Thank you, dear.”
Crowley waved it off, although he could not deny the faint feeling of pride. “Yeah. It wasn’t too hard to get, just a bribery and a thick pair of shoulder length rubber gloves.” He then sat down and took a sip from his mug.
Aziraphale sat down in the chair opposite and placed the new Bible reverently on the table, far away from the candle. He then took a long sip of cocoa before saying, “Isn’t it wonderful?”
“Isn’t what wonderful?” Crowley asked, setting his mug down.
“The holidays,” Aziraphale replied simply. “With all the lights and festivities, it’s such a beautiful time of the year.”
This caused Crowley to scoff, “Yeah, nothing more heartwarming than watching people grapple over material goods.” He put a hand over his chest for added measure.
“Now, dear, you know that that’s not what the holidays are about,” Aziraphale said in the tone of one scolding a child.
“Really?” Crowley feigned surprise and then eager anticipation. “Then teach me your wisdom, oh great one.”
He could practically see Aziraphale resisting the urge to roll his eyes. By some miracle, he succeeded and said in a tone of underlying patronization, “Well, since you asked so nicely, Christmas is a day to celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ.” He pretended not to notice Crowley’s eye roll. “Every year, family members come together to exchange gifts and spend time with one another.”
“Aha,” Crowley interrupted, waggling a finger. “So you admit that presents are a big factor.”
“Yes, they are,” Aziraphale admitted. “But it is just used as a way to show love and affection for those you are close to.”
“Which is exactly why as soon as people get their presents, they lock themselves in their rooms and spend hours gawking over their new prizes.” The sarcasm in Crowley’s tone was tangible. “Nothing says love and affection more than that.”
Aziraphale sighed and said exasperatedly, “You are impossible, dear.”
“As are you, angel.” Crowley stared back at him over the rim of his mug, amusement clear in his eyes.
This time, Aziraphale did not refrain from eye rolling, although traces of a smile could be seen. He drank some more cocoa, getting a whipped cream mustache in the process.
The two sat there in silence for a moment, and despite the relaxed atmosphere, Crowley could not shake the feeling that something was not quite right. At first, he thought that it was just from breathing in the dusty bookstore air (Aziraphale insisted that it was effective at deterring customers), but then he soon realized that it had something to do with the angel. He hadn’t realized it earlier - being too wrapped up in his snarky remarks - but in retrospect, it seemed like the angel’s words were filled with empty joy, as if he were an actor reciting his lines for the first time. Now, as he watched Aziraphale stare wistfully off into space, he knew that he wasn’t imagining things. The only question was how to approach the matter without causing the angel to go on the defense.
Eventually, he decided that a gentle but straightforward method was best. Leaning forward an inch, he asked, “Hey, angel, are you alright?”
Aziraphale flinched, being startled by the unexpected inquiry, and said, “Uh, yeah. I’m perfectly fine.” Once again, his tone was cheerful but flat.
In response to the blatant lie, Crowley raised his eyebrows. “Do you really expect me to believe that?”
There was a long pause. Aziraphale scrutinized Crowley carefully, as if trying to detect any ulterior motives. After deciding that there were none, his shoulders slumped slightly and he gave a small sigh. “I suppose not. Should have known that I couldn’t fool you forever.”
“Fool me about what?” Crowley asked, the sarcasm gone from his tone.
Aziraphale didn’t answer at first, twiddling his thumbs. It seemed like he was debating where to begin. The room was dead silent, and Crowley was about to think that Aziraphale would never talk when he finally said, “Well, as you already know, it is my job to encourage virtue and holiness in humans.”
Crowley nodded, indicating that he knew.
“Ever since holy holidays started, my superiors have encouraged me to work even harder whenever they roll around. Christmas, in particular, is a big one due to being the supposed birth date of the messiah.”
It took a moment for Crowley to process this. “So you mean that your cheerful, festive Christmas spirit is all just an act?”
“Oh, no,” Aziraphale said, eyes widening a fraction. “I wouldn’t go that far. It’s just that… well… remember back in Tadfield when I said I could feel love surrounding the area?” Another nod. “Well, during the holiday seasons, the amount of love and happiness radiating off of the surrounding London area increased noticeably, and it helped me a lot. It got to the point that I really enjoyed those times of the year.”
Once again, Crowley interjected with, “You said increased, as in past tense. What changed?”
Another pause, and when Aziraphale answered, it sounded like he was choosing each word carefully. “Nowadays, the happiness is still present, but it’s greatly diminished from what it used to be. Instead, most of what I feel is greed and materialism passing for love.”
Crowley tried to wrap his head around this concept and found it to be difficult. “Could you elaborate a bit more on that?”
“You know,” Aziraphale said, wringing his hands. “Love is warm and cherishing, while greed is cold and draining. With love, people feel satisfied, but greed only leaves them grappling for more.”
Crowley didn’t say anything at this. He wasn’t sure what he should say.
“What doesn’t help is that it is almost everywhere. On the television, in the newspapers, on those large bulletin boards humans place near the freeway, advertisements on the internet - yes, I know about those. No need to act so shocked.” Crowley had widened his eyes and covered his mouth in mock surprise. He stopped, and Aziraphale took a deep breath before continuing. “Anyways, the point is that people have become so obsessed with getting the best gifts that the original values have all but disappeared. I’ve been able to maintain the usual cheery attitude, but in more recent years, it’s been getting difficult.”
For a moment, Crowley was tempted to point out the monumental stack of books the angel hoarded in his so called shop, but luckily refrained from doing so. He pointed towards the Bible misprint and asked cautiously, “If you’re bothered by presents, would you want me to take my gift back? I could return it to-”
“No!” Aziraphale snapped, hastily covering the book with his hands. He then realized how that must have looked and relaxed. “Sorry. No, you don’t need to return this. I didn’t mean that I’m against gifts. What I’m opposed to is the fact that gifts are the only thing anyone seems to focus on nowadays.”
After listening to all of this, Crowley took a moment to think of what to do next. He didn’t want to dismiss it nonchalantly, knowing Aziraphale would not take kindly to such aloofness. However, an apology would likely come off as forced and insincere.
In the end, he settled on placing his hand over Aziraphale’s and saying, “Hey, don’t get too down, angel. Sure, the media and general population seem mostly focused on greed, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t individual families that still keep up the traditional spirits.” His eyes took on a mischievous glint, and he said, “For example, we could ditch the cocoa and go for something stronger. I know a winery down the street that has the best selections. It’s not open, but I could easily get us in.”
“Crowley!” Aziraphale exclaimed, trying to sound outraged but only half succeeding. “Breaking into wineries and getting drunk off of stolen wine are not proper Christmas traditions.”
“Perhaps not,” Crowley agreed, a full blown grin on his face. “But it is one of our traditions. Plus, if it makes you feel better, I can leave money in the cash register.” He decided not to mention that the money would likely either be fake, stolen, or leaves disguised as pounds.
Aziraphale sighed and shook his head, but Crowley could see that he had a barely repressed smile on his face. To his relief, it looked genuine, which meant that his plan was a success. He thought that while this was a rather unconventional way to celebrate Christmas, it worked for them, and that was what mattered.
Second story next post!
Title: Happy Holidays
Recipient: sous-le-saule
Characters: Aziraphale, Crowley
Rating: General
Word Count: 2,122
Notes: Thanks to storiesinsand for agreeing to read over this and correcting errors that I would have missed.
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: I do not own Aziraphale and Crowley. They belong to Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett.
Summary: It’s Christmas, and Crowley heads to the bookstore to celebrate with Aziraphale. He doesn’t expect it to be any different from the other times they’ve spent the holidays together, but he’s in for a surprise.
Crowley drove through the busy London streets in his 1926 black Bentley. The heater was on at full blast, and Tchaikovsky's “Another One Bites The Dust” blared from the sound system. Outside, people rushed around, trying to get in some last minute Christmas shopping before heading home for the night. Colorful lights hung from the store fronts, and the atmosphere was filled with festive energy.
Something that might have struck people as odd was the fact that Crowley did not hate Christmas. On the contrary, he rather enjoyed it. Despite the fact that Christmas was supposed to be a heavenly holiday, somewhere along the way, new traditions started being incorporated that were rather sinful. Crowley helped this happen, but he also gave humans credit for initiating ideas of their own. All around him, people zealously sought out material goods, glared enviously at the merchandise they could not afford, cursed at the shoppers that got in their way, and indulged in candy canes and Christmas cookies. Seeing this gave Crowley a warm feeling of a successful wile done well.
Typically, there are no parking spots outside of the bookstore, but one was magically available when Crowley arrived. He parked the Bentley there and climbed out. As usual, he wore a pair of dark sunglasses and a black winter coat to shield him from the cold. With a red present box tucked under his arm, he opened the door of the bookstore and entered.
Just as he expected, the inside was dolled up with various decorations. Lights were taped to the ceiling and the upper walls. A small pine tree in the corner was adorned with red and green ornaments. Fake snow covered the counter tops that were not nearby any books. In the background, an instrumental Christmas soundtrack could be faintly heard.
Not too long after, Aziraphale walked out of the back room. He was wearing a red and green tartan sweater and a red Santa cap. When he spotted Crowley, he beamed and headed towards him. “Crowley, dear,” he greeted enthusiastically. “Merry Christmas! I hope your day has been wonderful so far.”
Hearing this, Crowley said in a semi sarcastic tone, “Of course, angel. It’s Christmas, the time of present frenzy and family fighting.”
“Oh, hush, dear,” Aziraphale replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. “You can hang your coat up over there-” he gestured to a stand with multiple hooks sprouting out of it “- if you so desire. I have cocoa prepared for both of us.” With that said, Aziraphale disappeared through the doorway again.
Crowley rolled his eyes at the angel’s behavior, but something struck him as slightly off. He then decided to ignore it and followed Aziraphale.
On the table in the back room stood two mugs of hot cocoa. A candle was situated in the center, and it gave off a warm glow. In addition, a small, neatly wrapped rectangular box was placed on top of one of the mugs, and Crowley guessed that it was supposed to be for him.
His prediction turned out to be correct. Aziraphale picked up the box and brushed it off with his finger before handing it to him. “Here you go, dear. I got it just for you. I know you already one that you’re so fond of, but I figured that a new one wouldn’t hurt.”
This piqued his curiosity, and he carefully opened it to reveal a pristine, leather wrist watch. “Why, thanks, angel,” he said in an upbeat tone. “How thoughtful of you.” He slipped the box into his coat pocket and handed his gift to Aziraphale.
With the same care that Crowley had displayed, Aziraphale removed the lid on the box and peered inside. Almost instantly, his eyes widened and his face broke out into a huge grin.
Crowley smiled as well, watching the angel’s reaction. “I’m guessing that you like it.”
“Like it? This is the “Standing Fishes” Bible. Supposedly there are only a handful of copies left in the world.” He looked up at Crowley, his eyes practically shining. “I love it. Thank you, dear.”
Crowley waved it off, although he could not deny the faint feeling of pride. “Yeah. It wasn’t too hard to get, just a bribery and a thick pair of shoulder length rubber gloves.” He then sat down and took a sip from his mug.
Aziraphale sat down in the chair opposite and placed the new Bible reverently on the table, far away from the candle. He then took a long sip of cocoa before saying, “Isn’t it wonderful?”
“Isn’t what wonderful?” Crowley asked, setting his mug down.
“The holidays,” Aziraphale replied simply. “With all the lights and festivities, it’s such a beautiful time of the year.”
This caused Crowley to scoff, “Yeah, nothing more heartwarming than watching people grapple over material goods.” He put a hand over his chest for added measure.
“Now, dear, you know that that’s not what the holidays are about,” Aziraphale said in the tone of one scolding a child.
“Really?” Crowley feigned surprise and then eager anticipation. “Then teach me your wisdom, oh great one.”
He could practically see Aziraphale resisting the urge to roll his eyes. By some miracle, he succeeded and said in a tone of underlying patronization, “Well, since you asked so nicely, Christmas is a day to celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ.” He pretended not to notice Crowley’s eye roll. “Every year, family members come together to exchange gifts and spend time with one another.”
“Aha,” Crowley interrupted, waggling a finger. “So you admit that presents are a big factor.”
“Yes, they are,” Aziraphale admitted. “But it is just used as a way to show love and affection for those you are close to.”
“Which is exactly why as soon as people get their presents, they lock themselves in their rooms and spend hours gawking over their new prizes.” The sarcasm in Crowley’s tone was tangible. “Nothing says love and affection more than that.”
Aziraphale sighed and said exasperatedly, “You are impossible, dear.”
“As are you, angel.” Crowley stared back at him over the rim of his mug, amusement clear in his eyes.
This time, Aziraphale did not refrain from eye rolling, although traces of a smile could be seen. He drank some more cocoa, getting a whipped cream mustache in the process.
The two sat there in silence for a moment, and despite the relaxed atmosphere, Crowley could not shake the feeling that something was not quite right. At first, he thought that it was just from breathing in the dusty bookstore air (Aziraphale insisted that it was effective at deterring customers), but then he soon realized that it had something to do with the angel. He hadn’t realized it earlier - being too wrapped up in his snarky remarks - but in retrospect, it seemed like the angel’s words were filled with empty joy, as if he were an actor reciting his lines for the first time. Now, as he watched Aziraphale stare wistfully off into space, he knew that he wasn’t imagining things. The only question was how to approach the matter without causing the angel to go on the defense.
Eventually, he decided that a gentle but straightforward method was best. Leaning forward an inch, he asked, “Hey, angel, are you alright?”
Aziraphale flinched, being startled by the unexpected inquiry, and said, “Uh, yeah. I’m perfectly fine.” Once again, his tone was cheerful but flat.
In response to the blatant lie, Crowley raised his eyebrows. “Do you really expect me to believe that?”
There was a long pause. Aziraphale scrutinized Crowley carefully, as if trying to detect any ulterior motives. After deciding that there were none, his shoulders slumped slightly and he gave a small sigh. “I suppose not. Should have known that I couldn’t fool you forever.”
“Fool me about what?” Crowley asked, the sarcasm gone from his tone.
Aziraphale didn’t answer at first, twiddling his thumbs. It seemed like he was debating where to begin. The room was dead silent, and Crowley was about to think that Aziraphale would never talk when he finally said, “Well, as you already know, it is my job to encourage virtue and holiness in humans.”
Crowley nodded, indicating that he knew.
“Ever since holy holidays started, my superiors have encouraged me to work even harder whenever they roll around. Christmas, in particular, is a big one due to being the supposed birth date of the messiah.”
It took a moment for Crowley to process this. “So you mean that your cheerful, festive Christmas spirit is all just an act?”
“Oh, no,” Aziraphale said, eyes widening a fraction. “I wouldn’t go that far. It’s just that… well… remember back in Tadfield when I said I could feel love surrounding the area?” Another nod. “Well, during the holiday seasons, the amount of love and happiness radiating off of the surrounding London area increased noticeably, and it helped me a lot. It got to the point that I really enjoyed those times of the year.”
Once again, Crowley interjected with, “You said increased, as in past tense. What changed?”
Another pause, and when Aziraphale answered, it sounded like he was choosing each word carefully. “Nowadays, the happiness is still present, but it’s greatly diminished from what it used to be. Instead, most of what I feel is greed and materialism passing for love.”
Crowley tried to wrap his head around this concept and found it to be difficult. “Could you elaborate a bit more on that?”
“You know,” Aziraphale said, wringing his hands. “Love is warm and cherishing, while greed is cold and draining. With love, people feel satisfied, but greed only leaves them grappling for more.”
Crowley didn’t say anything at this. He wasn’t sure what he should say.
“What doesn’t help is that it is almost everywhere. On the television, in the newspapers, on those large bulletin boards humans place near the freeway, advertisements on the internet - yes, I know about those. No need to act so shocked.” Crowley had widened his eyes and covered his mouth in mock surprise. He stopped, and Aziraphale took a deep breath before continuing. “Anyways, the point is that people have become so obsessed with getting the best gifts that the original values have all but disappeared. I’ve been able to maintain the usual cheery attitude, but in more recent years, it’s been getting difficult.”
For a moment, Crowley was tempted to point out the monumental stack of books the angel hoarded in his so called shop, but luckily refrained from doing so. He pointed towards the Bible misprint and asked cautiously, “If you’re bothered by presents, would you want me to take my gift back? I could return it to-”
“No!” Aziraphale snapped, hastily covering the book with his hands. He then realized how that must have looked and relaxed. “Sorry. No, you don’t need to return this. I didn’t mean that I’m against gifts. What I’m opposed to is the fact that gifts are the only thing anyone seems to focus on nowadays.”
After listening to all of this, Crowley took a moment to think of what to do next. He didn’t want to dismiss it nonchalantly, knowing Aziraphale would not take kindly to such aloofness. However, an apology would likely come off as forced and insincere.
In the end, he settled on placing his hand over Aziraphale’s and saying, “Hey, don’t get too down, angel. Sure, the media and general population seem mostly focused on greed, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t individual families that still keep up the traditional spirits.” His eyes took on a mischievous glint, and he said, “For example, we could ditch the cocoa and go for something stronger. I know a winery down the street that has the best selections. It’s not open, but I could easily get us in.”
“Crowley!” Aziraphale exclaimed, trying to sound outraged but only half succeeding. “Breaking into wineries and getting drunk off of stolen wine are not proper Christmas traditions.”
“Perhaps not,” Crowley agreed, a full blown grin on his face. “But it is one of our traditions. Plus, if it makes you feel better, I can leave money in the cash register.” He decided not to mention that the money would likely either be fake, stolen, or leaves disguised as pounds.
Aziraphale sighed and shook his head, but Crowley could see that he had a barely repressed smile on his face. To his relief, it looked genuine, which meant that his plan was a success. He thought that while this was a rather unconventional way to celebrate Christmas, it worked for them, and that was what mattered.
Second story next post!