Happy Holidays, Sous-le-Saule! (3 of 3)
Strange Shape, Part 2
More hours went by, and the sun had finished setting. The sky was cloudy, but alas, no storms afoot. It was dark, though, so one out of two. All the businesses on the street had closed for the night and had their lights turned off. In contrast, the bookstore was brightly lit, and Aziraphale was reorganizing his books in a way that would make it harder for customers to find what they wanted.
The quiet atmosphere was suddenly interrupted by a loud crash followed by a string of curses. Aziraphale ditched the book he was holding and rushed back to where the noise had come from. What he was greeted by was Crowley sitting next to a large pile of empty glass bottles. Most of them were intact, although a few had shattered upon contact with the wooden floor.
Aziraphale quickly scanned the area and, determining that there were no real threats, asked, “What happened?”
Crowley looked up at Aziraphale’s inquiring expression and said, “Well, I was trying to see if I could stack these bottles in a sort of pyramid. It was going well, until that blasted bottle decided to wobble and fall.” He glared at a bottle of white Moscato as though it were the root of all his problems.
It took all of his willpower not to facepalm. “Really, dear? I thought you were trying to find a way to revert back to your old appearance.”
“I am trying!” Crowley snapped back, a sudden surge of anger making his voice sound like an infernal cacophony. “I’ve been trying for the past week, using every method that I can remember. I tried picturing my old form, imagining myself in my old body, clearing my head of all thoughts, using an old transfiguration spell. I even went to sleep on the floor in the hopes that I would wake up not looking like a freakish nightmare. But did any of these work? No. So, don’t lecture me about not trying.”
Aziraphale took a step back, not expecting the outburst. “I’m sorry, dear,” he said. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No, don’t apologize,” Crowley said, rubbing his two main eyes with one hand. “I shouldn’t have lashed out at you. It’s just that I’m getting really tired of having to deal with this.” He sighed forcefully and clenched his hands into fists. “It’s gotten to the point that I might just go back to Hell and get a new body. Surely, it can’t be more infuriating than this.” He knew that it could be, but he didn’t want to ponder on that.
A frown formed on Aziraphale’s face. He wasn’t too keen on that plan, knowing how the divine and diabolical bureaucracies could be a real pain. Unfortunately, they were running out of options, and as much as he enjoyed spending time with Crowley, he missed having the back-room to himself.
In that moment, he remembered what Adam had told them earlier. A thoughtful look crept onto his face, and he said, “Perhaps you don’t have to go.”
“Well, if you have an idea, then I’m all ears.”
Aziraphale barely managed to hold back a comment about how he had more eyes than ears, instead choosing to be serious. “Well, remember what Adam said earlier about how if you remember who you are, you should be able to change back? What if the key to this problem is connected with that?”
Crowley waved his hand as though shooing a pesky fly and said, “Yeah, and he also said that ruling the world would be like cleaning other people’s bedrooms for them.”
“This is different,” Aziraphale insisted, refusing to be discouraged. “This actually makes sense. When you were with the Satanists, you were complying with what they expected to be, hence the more intimidating appearance. Maybe if you put yourself in a more familiar atmosphere, a place that really calls out to you, then it will help you turn back to normal.”
A prolonged pause followed this speech. Aziraphale twiddled his thumbs absentmindedly, trying to ignore the feeling of being scrutinized.
During this, Crowley squinted at the empty air. He appeared to be contemplating the chances of this plan working. After what felt like an eternity, he said grudgingly, “Okay, fine. I’ll do it, but only because I can’t think of anything else and I’m putting off Hell as a last resort.”
“Splendid,” Aziraphale said, internally relieved that they were making progress. “So, where should we go? Don’t you have a place to stay at?”
“I have a flat, but I hardly use it.” He brushed some black strands out of his face. “Recently, I’ve been spending more time in it, but I doubt it will be enough.”
“Perhaps your car would work…” Aziraphale offhandedly remarked.
“Oh, no,” Crowley interjected. “Not the Bentley.”
“Why not?” asked Aziraphale. “I’ve seen you obsess over it numerous times. You even compared it to a fully body glove. It would be perfect.”
“First off, I don’t even know if I can get inside it. I can barely enter through doorways without ducking. Second, what if I damage the upholstery? The seats are made of fine leather.”
“Well, unless you have a better idea,” Aziraphale replied sharply. He wanted to stay cool and composed, but he was running out of patience.
Crowley went quiet, thinking over other possibilities, before finally giving in. “Alright. The Ritz is probably closed, and I doubt I could go to the park without causing an uproar.”
“Thank you,” Aziraphale said, a touch of exasperation audible. “Well, we shouldn’t waste time. Let’s go.”
The Bentley wasn’t far away, and there weren’t many people out, fortunately. The sporadic pedestrian that they did encounter turned out to be a drunk person walking home, and it was easy to fool them into thinking that nobody else was around. Soon, the antique car was in sight, and they approached the driver’s and passenger’s doors.
It had only been a week since Crowley last saw the Bentley, but it felt as though he was reuniting with a long lost friend. Placing a hand on the front hood reverently, he was able to forget about the chaos that had went down last week. He was filled with a sort of calm that he was rarely able to experience in his day-to-day life.
Aziraphale was happy to see Crowley with an expression that wasn’t anger, annoyance, fear, or boredom. Even though he did not want to interrupt this moment, he knew that they only had so much time before sunrise. Clearing his throat awkwardly, he said, “Um, you need to unlock the door.”
Crowley snapped his head up and said, “Oh, yeah. I almost forgot.” There was the sound of the door unlocking, and then they both climbed in. It was rather difficult for Crowley, and although it was a tight fit, he still managed. Unfortunately, the car interior was a lot shorter than the bookstore, and he was forced to hunch over. This didn’t seem to bother him that much, and he said, “Oh, yes. It’s been too long since I last sat here.”
“It has been a while,” Aziraphale agreed, although he thought that ‘too long’ was a stretch. He refrained from sharing this opinion and instead asked, “So, are you going to try driving?”
“Not tonight,” Crowley responded. “The last thing I need is for someone to see me, freak out, and crash into the Bentley. I’d rather it not get destroyed again.”
This earned a frown from Aziraphale, but he brushed it off. He looked around for something that could help and spotted a box of mixtapes. “Maybe some music will help,” he said, grabbing a box at random and sticking the tape into the slot.
The familiar melody of Bohemian Rhapsody filled the car. Beside him, Crowley muttered something that sounded like, “Oh, great. It’s this song again.”
He frowned at this unexpected comment. “What’s wrong? I thought you liked this group.”
“I do,” Crowley said. “It’s just that this was the song that was playing when I delivered Adam to the hospital.” Right now, Freddie was emotionally singing about how he did not want to die. “It was during this exact line that Hell decided to drop in and deliver orders. Of course, since cell phones are so beyond their mental grasp, I had to listen as Freddie gave me instructions about what to do with the baby. And then when we discovered that we’d been watching the wrong child…” He made a face at that memory. If he had to listen to Queen sing about how Beelzebub had a devil put aside for him again, he was going to throw that tape out the window.
“Ah, yes, I remember that. What a crazy time.” Aziraphale shifted into a more comfortable sitting position and leaned back against the seat. “I’m just glad it all worked out in the end.”
“Yeah, thankfully,” Crowley agreed. “I still can’t believe the nuns managed to screw it up in the first place.”
“Well, the nun we talked to did seem a bit inattentive. Nevertheless, it does no good to dwell on the past. We should just be grateful that things did not go as they were foretold.”
“Sure thing, Mr. Don’t Question Ineffability.” The sarcasm was tangible.
“Hey! Don’t use that tone with me, you serpent.” He huffed as Crowley snickered at his oh so clever nickname. “Laugh all you want, but it was my impeccable reasoning that convinced our superiors to call off their plans.”
“Actually, I think it was Adam’s decision that did that.” He turned to face Aziraphale, and his smile was devious. “Although it was nice to see their reasoning turned against them. Watching the Voice of God’s and Prince of Hell’s reactions as the logic they clung to all these millennia was so easily overturned? Priceless.”
Now it was Aziraphale’s turn to snicker. “Now, dear, you should be careful. Someone might try listening in.” His words were serious, but the way he said it betrayed his lack of graveness.
“I doubt it,” Crowley said dismissively, resting his chin against his knee. “I haven’t heard anything from them in a while. What about your side?”
“Silent as well.” He fiddled with the tape box in his hand. Eventually, he looked back up and asked, “Do you remember that eccentric woman on the bike?”
“You mean the one that hit my car while I was driving?”
“Yeah,” he said, nodding his head. “What happened to her book? I really hope it wasn’t damaged by the fire. It was the only remaining copy.”
Crowley made a face. “Oh, that book. Between the burning bookstore and then the flaming Bentley...well, it was reduced to a charred brick.”
Aziraphale’s eyes widened and he gasped. “Really? That’s terrible.”
“You’re telling me.” Crowley grimaced as he said this. “When I handed the book to her, she went spare. Nearly stabbed me with a bread knife. I managed to get out unscratched, but it was not fun.”
“I imagine it wouldn’t be.” Aziraphale sounded upset, although whether it was for the book or for Anathema was rather ambiguous. “Hopefully she is getting along fine without it.”
In the background, the song slowly tapered off. Instead of switching out the tape for a new one, they just sat there. For the first time since this fiasco started, Crowley was able to completely relax. Just being in the car brought back memories of the times they’d spent together: feeding the ducks, dining at the Ritz, getting drunk in the angel’s bookstore, and countless other occasions. When the news arrived that it would all end in a few years, they’d banded together to prevent that, because it was too soon to give this life up. It would always be too soon. Granted, they ended up raising the wrong kid and most of the work was done by Adam and his gang of friends, but it was the effort that counted, right?
His train of thought was interrupted by the sound of Aziraphale’s muffled coughing. Or at least that’s what he thought it was. When he looked over to see if the angel was alright, he realized that he was trying unsuccessfully to stifle his laughter. “What’s so funny?”
Aziraphale looked up and, after attempting to speak a few times but failing, finally whispered, “Dolphins.”
The sheer randomness caused Crowley to burst out laughing. He leaned his forehead against the steering wheel and took a minute to compose himself. Eventually, he asked, “Seriously? That’s what you were thinking of?”
“Yes, I know,” Aziraphale somehow managed to get out. He was currently pressing his forehead to the window, and the glass fogged up from his breath. “It just randomly popped into my head and suddenly I’m reliving that exact moment. You were rather out of it, weren’t you?”
“Don’t act like you were any better,” Crowley shot back, although he did it in a half-hearted way. “You kept saying that gorillas slept in nests.”
“They do,” Aziraphale insisted. “I saw it on a nature show. They had video clips and everything.”
“Uh, huh. Sure, they did.”
“Yes, they did! They even had a zoologist come in and speak about the matter. I swear.” He waved his hand around, trying to add emphasis.
“Just like you swear that tartan is fashionable?”
Oh, he did not just say that. Aziraphale whipped his head around and started saying, “Now, what is that supposed to mean? I know you have a hard time appreciating the stylish nature of tartan, but - wait a minute.”
Crowley was still leaning over the wheel, but he no longer took up the entire seat space. His skin had returned to its usual shade of color, and all extra body parts were gone. Other than the yellow serpentine eyes, he looked like an ordinary human. Somehow, he had managed to change back without either of them realizing it.
Aziraphale’s eyes widened, and he stuttered out, “Crow-Crowley...You...you’re…”
“What is it, angel?” he asked, straightening up. When his head didn’t hit the ceiling, he froze up. In a flash, he jerked the car mirror down to look at his reflection. At first, he just stared in shock, not believing what he was seeing. Then, a large grin spread over his face, and he punched the air while shouting, “Oh, thank Go- Sa- someone! I’m back.”
Likewise, Aziraphale was also grinning. “Yes, you are, dear.”
To his surprise, Crowley wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close. “And thank you, angel. If I hadn’t listened to you, I would either be still stuck in that other form or dealing with hellish paperwork.” When he pulled back, his eyes were glowing again, although for a completely different reason from before. “I’m so excited, I could kiss you.”
This time, it was Crowley’s turn to be shocked. Aziraphale leaned forward and pressed his lips against his. It was slow and gentle. A bit uncoordinated, but since it was their first kiss, that was easily dismissed.
A few seconds passed before they separated again. Even in the darkness, Aziraphale’s eyes twinkled. “You’re quite welcome, dear.”
Crowley gaped, still trying to mentally grasp what just happened. Shortly afterward, he regained his metaphorical footing and said, “Well, we should head back now. It’s still nighttime, and I am freezing in these pyjamas.”
On that note, he started up the Bentley and began driving back to the bookstore. Aziraphale decided that more music might be a nice way to celebrate and inserted another tape into the slot at random. This time, it was Queen’s “You’re My Best Friend” that played from the car stereo. When they realized what song it was, they smiled fondly at each other before turning back towards the road. It was certainly a fitting song and definitely described how they were feeling.
Happy Holidays, Sous-le-Saule, from your Secret Writer!
More hours went by, and the sun had finished setting. The sky was cloudy, but alas, no storms afoot. It was dark, though, so one out of two. All the businesses on the street had closed for the night and had their lights turned off. In contrast, the bookstore was brightly lit, and Aziraphale was reorganizing his books in a way that would make it harder for customers to find what they wanted.
The quiet atmosphere was suddenly interrupted by a loud crash followed by a string of curses. Aziraphale ditched the book he was holding and rushed back to where the noise had come from. What he was greeted by was Crowley sitting next to a large pile of empty glass bottles. Most of them were intact, although a few had shattered upon contact with the wooden floor.
Aziraphale quickly scanned the area and, determining that there were no real threats, asked, “What happened?”
Crowley looked up at Aziraphale’s inquiring expression and said, “Well, I was trying to see if I could stack these bottles in a sort of pyramid. It was going well, until that blasted bottle decided to wobble and fall.” He glared at a bottle of white Moscato as though it were the root of all his problems.
It took all of his willpower not to facepalm. “Really, dear? I thought you were trying to find a way to revert back to your old appearance.”
“I am trying!” Crowley snapped back, a sudden surge of anger making his voice sound like an infernal cacophony. “I’ve been trying for the past week, using every method that I can remember. I tried picturing my old form, imagining myself in my old body, clearing my head of all thoughts, using an old transfiguration spell. I even went to sleep on the floor in the hopes that I would wake up not looking like a freakish nightmare. But did any of these work? No. So, don’t lecture me about not trying.”
Aziraphale took a step back, not expecting the outburst. “I’m sorry, dear,” he said. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No, don’t apologize,” Crowley said, rubbing his two main eyes with one hand. “I shouldn’t have lashed out at you. It’s just that I’m getting really tired of having to deal with this.” He sighed forcefully and clenched his hands into fists. “It’s gotten to the point that I might just go back to Hell and get a new body. Surely, it can’t be more infuriating than this.” He knew that it could be, but he didn’t want to ponder on that.
A frown formed on Aziraphale’s face. He wasn’t too keen on that plan, knowing how the divine and diabolical bureaucracies could be a real pain. Unfortunately, they were running out of options, and as much as he enjoyed spending time with Crowley, he missed having the back-room to himself.
In that moment, he remembered what Adam had told them earlier. A thoughtful look crept onto his face, and he said, “Perhaps you don’t have to go.”
“Well, if you have an idea, then I’m all ears.”
Aziraphale barely managed to hold back a comment about how he had more eyes than ears, instead choosing to be serious. “Well, remember what Adam said earlier about how if you remember who you are, you should be able to change back? What if the key to this problem is connected with that?”
Crowley waved his hand as though shooing a pesky fly and said, “Yeah, and he also said that ruling the world would be like cleaning other people’s bedrooms for them.”
“This is different,” Aziraphale insisted, refusing to be discouraged. “This actually makes sense. When you were with the Satanists, you were complying with what they expected to be, hence the more intimidating appearance. Maybe if you put yourself in a more familiar atmosphere, a place that really calls out to you, then it will help you turn back to normal.”
A prolonged pause followed this speech. Aziraphale twiddled his thumbs absentmindedly, trying to ignore the feeling of being scrutinized.
During this, Crowley squinted at the empty air. He appeared to be contemplating the chances of this plan working. After what felt like an eternity, he said grudgingly, “Okay, fine. I’ll do it, but only because I can’t think of anything else and I’m putting off Hell as a last resort.”
“Splendid,” Aziraphale said, internally relieved that they were making progress. “So, where should we go? Don’t you have a place to stay at?”
“I have a flat, but I hardly use it.” He brushed some black strands out of his face. “Recently, I’ve been spending more time in it, but I doubt it will be enough.”
“Perhaps your car would work…” Aziraphale offhandedly remarked.
“Oh, no,” Crowley interjected. “Not the Bentley.”
“Why not?” asked Aziraphale. “I’ve seen you obsess over it numerous times. You even compared it to a fully body glove. It would be perfect.”
“First off, I don’t even know if I can get inside it. I can barely enter through doorways without ducking. Second, what if I damage the upholstery? The seats are made of fine leather.”
“Well, unless you have a better idea,” Aziraphale replied sharply. He wanted to stay cool and composed, but he was running out of patience.
Crowley went quiet, thinking over other possibilities, before finally giving in. “Alright. The Ritz is probably closed, and I doubt I could go to the park without causing an uproar.”
“Thank you,” Aziraphale said, a touch of exasperation audible. “Well, we shouldn’t waste time. Let’s go.”
The Bentley wasn’t far away, and there weren’t many people out, fortunately. The sporadic pedestrian that they did encounter turned out to be a drunk person walking home, and it was easy to fool them into thinking that nobody else was around. Soon, the antique car was in sight, and they approached the driver’s and passenger’s doors.
It had only been a week since Crowley last saw the Bentley, but it felt as though he was reuniting with a long lost friend. Placing a hand on the front hood reverently, he was able to forget about the chaos that had went down last week. He was filled with a sort of calm that he was rarely able to experience in his day-to-day life.
Aziraphale was happy to see Crowley with an expression that wasn’t anger, annoyance, fear, or boredom. Even though he did not want to interrupt this moment, he knew that they only had so much time before sunrise. Clearing his throat awkwardly, he said, “Um, you need to unlock the door.”
Crowley snapped his head up and said, “Oh, yeah. I almost forgot.” There was the sound of the door unlocking, and then they both climbed in. It was rather difficult for Crowley, and although it was a tight fit, he still managed. Unfortunately, the car interior was a lot shorter than the bookstore, and he was forced to hunch over. This didn’t seem to bother him that much, and he said, “Oh, yes. It’s been too long since I last sat here.”
“It has been a while,” Aziraphale agreed, although he thought that ‘too long’ was a stretch. He refrained from sharing this opinion and instead asked, “So, are you going to try driving?”
“Not tonight,” Crowley responded. “The last thing I need is for someone to see me, freak out, and crash into the Bentley. I’d rather it not get destroyed again.”
This earned a frown from Aziraphale, but he brushed it off. He looked around for something that could help and spotted a box of mixtapes. “Maybe some music will help,” he said, grabbing a box at random and sticking the tape into the slot.
The familiar melody of Bohemian Rhapsody filled the car. Beside him, Crowley muttered something that sounded like, “Oh, great. It’s this song again.”
He frowned at this unexpected comment. “What’s wrong? I thought you liked this group.”
“I do,” Crowley said. “It’s just that this was the song that was playing when I delivered Adam to the hospital.” Right now, Freddie was emotionally singing about how he did not want to die. “It was during this exact line that Hell decided to drop in and deliver orders. Of course, since cell phones are so beyond their mental grasp, I had to listen as Freddie gave me instructions about what to do with the baby. And then when we discovered that we’d been watching the wrong child…” He made a face at that memory. If he had to listen to Queen sing about how Beelzebub had a devil put aside for him again, he was going to throw that tape out the window.
“Ah, yes, I remember that. What a crazy time.” Aziraphale shifted into a more comfortable sitting position and leaned back against the seat. “I’m just glad it all worked out in the end.”
“Yeah, thankfully,” Crowley agreed. “I still can’t believe the nuns managed to screw it up in the first place.”
“Well, the nun we talked to did seem a bit inattentive. Nevertheless, it does no good to dwell on the past. We should just be grateful that things did not go as they were foretold.”
“Sure thing, Mr. Don’t Question Ineffability.” The sarcasm was tangible.
“Hey! Don’t use that tone with me, you serpent.” He huffed as Crowley snickered at his oh so clever nickname. “Laugh all you want, but it was my impeccable reasoning that convinced our superiors to call off their plans.”
“Actually, I think it was Adam’s decision that did that.” He turned to face Aziraphale, and his smile was devious. “Although it was nice to see their reasoning turned against them. Watching the Voice of God’s and Prince of Hell’s reactions as the logic they clung to all these millennia was so easily overturned? Priceless.”
Now it was Aziraphale’s turn to snicker. “Now, dear, you should be careful. Someone might try listening in.” His words were serious, but the way he said it betrayed his lack of graveness.
“I doubt it,” Crowley said dismissively, resting his chin against his knee. “I haven’t heard anything from them in a while. What about your side?”
“Silent as well.” He fiddled with the tape box in his hand. Eventually, he looked back up and asked, “Do you remember that eccentric woman on the bike?”
“You mean the one that hit my car while I was driving?”
“Yeah,” he said, nodding his head. “What happened to her book? I really hope it wasn’t damaged by the fire. It was the only remaining copy.”
Crowley made a face. “Oh, that book. Between the burning bookstore and then the flaming Bentley...well, it was reduced to a charred brick.”
Aziraphale’s eyes widened and he gasped. “Really? That’s terrible.”
“You’re telling me.” Crowley grimaced as he said this. “When I handed the book to her, she went spare. Nearly stabbed me with a bread knife. I managed to get out unscratched, but it was not fun.”
“I imagine it wouldn’t be.” Aziraphale sounded upset, although whether it was for the book or for Anathema was rather ambiguous. “Hopefully she is getting along fine without it.”
In the background, the song slowly tapered off. Instead of switching out the tape for a new one, they just sat there. For the first time since this fiasco started, Crowley was able to completely relax. Just being in the car brought back memories of the times they’d spent together: feeding the ducks, dining at the Ritz, getting drunk in the angel’s bookstore, and countless other occasions. When the news arrived that it would all end in a few years, they’d banded together to prevent that, because it was too soon to give this life up. It would always be too soon. Granted, they ended up raising the wrong kid and most of the work was done by Adam and his gang of friends, but it was the effort that counted, right?
His train of thought was interrupted by the sound of Aziraphale’s muffled coughing. Or at least that’s what he thought it was. When he looked over to see if the angel was alright, he realized that he was trying unsuccessfully to stifle his laughter. “What’s so funny?”
Aziraphale looked up and, after attempting to speak a few times but failing, finally whispered, “Dolphins.”
The sheer randomness caused Crowley to burst out laughing. He leaned his forehead against the steering wheel and took a minute to compose himself. Eventually, he asked, “Seriously? That’s what you were thinking of?”
“Yes, I know,” Aziraphale somehow managed to get out. He was currently pressing his forehead to the window, and the glass fogged up from his breath. “It just randomly popped into my head and suddenly I’m reliving that exact moment. You were rather out of it, weren’t you?”
“Don’t act like you were any better,” Crowley shot back, although he did it in a half-hearted way. “You kept saying that gorillas slept in nests.”
“They do,” Aziraphale insisted. “I saw it on a nature show. They had video clips and everything.”
“Uh, huh. Sure, they did.”
“Yes, they did! They even had a zoologist come in and speak about the matter. I swear.” He waved his hand around, trying to add emphasis.
“Just like you swear that tartan is fashionable?”
Oh, he did not just say that. Aziraphale whipped his head around and started saying, “Now, what is that supposed to mean? I know you have a hard time appreciating the stylish nature of tartan, but - wait a minute.”
Crowley was still leaning over the wheel, but he no longer took up the entire seat space. His skin had returned to its usual shade of color, and all extra body parts were gone. Other than the yellow serpentine eyes, he looked like an ordinary human. Somehow, he had managed to change back without either of them realizing it.
Aziraphale’s eyes widened, and he stuttered out, “Crow-Crowley...You...you’re…”
“What is it, angel?” he asked, straightening up. When his head didn’t hit the ceiling, he froze up. In a flash, he jerked the car mirror down to look at his reflection. At first, he just stared in shock, not believing what he was seeing. Then, a large grin spread over his face, and he punched the air while shouting, “Oh, thank Go- Sa- someone! I’m back.”
Likewise, Aziraphale was also grinning. “Yes, you are, dear.”
To his surprise, Crowley wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close. “And thank you, angel. If I hadn’t listened to you, I would either be still stuck in that other form or dealing with hellish paperwork.” When he pulled back, his eyes were glowing again, although for a completely different reason from before. “I’m so excited, I could kiss you.”
This time, it was Crowley’s turn to be shocked. Aziraphale leaned forward and pressed his lips against his. It was slow and gentle. A bit uncoordinated, but since it was their first kiss, that was easily dismissed.
A few seconds passed before they separated again. Even in the darkness, Aziraphale’s eyes twinkled. “You’re quite welcome, dear.”
Crowley gaped, still trying to mentally grasp what just happened. Shortly afterward, he regained his metaphorical footing and said, “Well, we should head back now. It’s still nighttime, and I am freezing in these pyjamas.”
On that note, he started up the Bentley and began driving back to the bookstore. Aziraphale decided that more music might be a nice way to celebrate and inserted another tape into the slot at random. This time, it was Queen’s “You’re My Best Friend” that played from the car stereo. When they realized what song it was, they smiled fondly at each other before turning back towards the road. It was certainly a fitting song and definitely described how they were feeling.
Happy Holidays, Sous-le-Saule, from your Secret Writer!