Chapter Text
Crowley doesn’t think he has ever been more comfortable and content. The sofa cushions at his back are firm and soft. The blanket over him is warm and cosy. The crackling of the fire playing on TV is peaceful and soothing. The gentle lilting Christmas music from the radio is festive and cheerful.
Best of all, though, is the being beside him, tucked into the crook of his arm, snuggling close. Crowley sighs in contentment before leaning his head to the side and laying a gentle kiss to Aziraphale’s hair. In response, Aziraphale hums and snuggles even closer.
“This is perfect.” Crowley hadn’t meant to speak, but his words are true.
Aziraphale lifts his head from Crowley’s shoulder to smile up at him. “It certainly can’t get any better.”
“Wait, it can!” Crowley nudges Aziraphale, but he doesn’t seem to want to move. “I got us each a Christmas eve gift.”
“You bought yourself a gift?” asks Aziraphale.
Crowley grins. “Sort of. Come on, let me up.”
“I don’t think it works like that.” But Aziraphale does move to let Crowley up from the sofa.
It only takes Crowley a minute to nip down to the shop floor, locate the bags he brought with him, and dash back upstairs to Aziraphale’s flat.
“Here,” says Crowley, depositing one of the bags onto Aziraphale’s lap. “Merry Christmas, angel.”
Carefully, Aziraphale opens the bag and pulls out the gift. He shakes out the material it to reveal a mostly red jumper, with the image of a green bow and ribbon.
“A Christmas jumper?” Aziraphale asks, an undercurrent of excitement in his words.
“Yep.” Crowley motions to the jumper with both hands. “Put it on!”
Aziraphale shrugs of his cardigan and his sleeveless sweater before slipping the jumper over his head. He looks down at himself, then back up at Crowley, grinning.
“I’m a present,” he says.
“You’re a gift to humanity, angel, I only thought it was fitting.”
“I love it, Crowley, thank you! What’s yours? Are you a present too?” Aziraphale giggles. “Should we snuggle under the tree together?”
“Ah, no. Not a present. I went in a different direction for mine.” Crowley pulls out his light grey jumper and slips it straight on over his black long sleeved t-shirt.
Aziraphale seems to scrutinise the rough, red capital letters on the front for a moment before reading it out loud. “Now I have a machine gun, ho ho ho. Where have a heard that before?” His brow furrows as he thinks. It only takes him a moment. “Oh! That film! Rocking Around the Nakatomi Tower?”
Crowley laughs. “Yes, that’s definitely what we’re calling Die Hard now.”
“Shall we watch another Christmas film?” suggests Aziraphale. “We don’t have much time left to get them in.”
“You know you can watch Christmas films any time of the year, right?” Crowley drops back down onto the sofa beside Aziraphale and throws his half of the blanket over his knees. “They’re not only available in December.”
“Yes, but it’s not the same, my dear.”
“Okay,” Crowley is happy to indulge Aziraphale. “What do you want to watch?”
“Nothing like that terrible Trolls film you subjected me to yesterday.”
Crowley bites his bottom lip in an attempt not to laugh.
“No, I would like to watch Hogfather. It’s a delightful book by Terry Pratchett that was adapted for television, and the children were telling me the other day how much they enjoyed the film. So.” Aziraphale firmly pats his knees with both hands, as though it’s all settled. “I would like to watch Hogfather.”
It is settled. They watch Hogfather. And it is good. The Them know their Christmas films, apparently.
As they lay snuggled on the sofa after the film finishes, Crowley begins musing out loud.
“As much as I’ve enjoyed Christmas, and the whole holiday season, I’ll be glad once it’s over,” he says as he stares at the ceiling.
“Really?” Aziraphale sounds sorrowful.
“It’s been a lot of work, angel. The gifts, the wrapping, the decorating, the being nice to people.” Crowley gives an involuntary shudder. “I couldn’t keep it up all year even if I wanted to.”
“Fair point,” admits Aziraphale. “But we’re not finished yet, my dear.”
“Well, yeah, there’s still the big day tomorrow. Opening gifts, full Christmas dinner, Queen’s speech, afternoon nap.”
“And then Kwanzaa beings on the 26th. I know it’s a cultural holiday and not a religious one, but it’s the holiday season, not the religious season. And of course there is new year’s eve, we must celebrate that—another year together! And then I was wondering if you’d be interested in taking part in Dry January?”
Crowley groans and pulls the blanket up over his head.