Aziraphale whistled "Oh Holy Night" quietly as he brewed some tea in the kitchen. He put a little cinnamon in it to feel festive, and then carried it into the rec room where he curled up on the floor in front of the fire with bare feet. He was going to read, but instead found himself just staring into the flames, thinking.

After he and Wilson parted ways on the beach, Aziraphale headed back to the compound and climbed the rope ladder up to the roof. It was, of course, very tidy, impressively so if you took into account that it was, well, a roof. And it was only several days ago that the clothes box had coughed up some green tartan sheets for the thatched mattress ( Read more... )

( Aziraphale and Crowley get drunk. )

( Crowley and Aziraphale discuss the perils of an apocalpyse )

Aziraphale vowed never to drink again as he and Crowley climbed the stairs up to the roof.

"Ugh," he groaned, his feet feeling heavy. "Gluttony. Envy. Lust. Wrath. This has not been a good night for me."

[continued from here]

By the time Aziraphale and Crowley made it up to the roof, the sun was setting.

"We've got some timing," Aziraphale murmured, looking out at the sky. "You know, I'm not sure I've seen one so beautiful in six thousand years."