Merry Christmas, Darling

The sun was slowly sinking on the horizon, bringing with it a slight chill from the fall air. The year was fast drawing to a close, bringing with it a buzz of energy and excitement that humans fell into at the holidays. Shops all around were dusting off their wreaths and lights, dragging down their trees that one could never get back in the box the same way twice and searching through their collections for the least offensive music that they could stand to listen to for an entire month.

Aziraphale did none of those things.

Oh he didn't hate the holiday, by any means. He actually adored it, despite it being so very wrong about Christ's birth. (Who in their right mind would be born in December? No, Jesus came on a very respectable, warm April night, thank you very much.) Aziraphale enjoyed the positive and giving spirit it brought out in everyone. He just didn't decorate the bookshop like a tarted up off license for the season. Plus, all those books were a fire hazard on a good day, never mind adding in extension cords all about the place.

He did sometimes wish he could have some lights around his windows though.

And maybe a little tree.

And maybe some hot chocolate.

Giving a heavy sigh, Aziraphale got to work stacking books. It was mostly all for show - moving items from one part of the shop to another to give the illusion that he had new stock. He had decided to move several anthologies around today, which meant quite a bit of heavy lifting as some of them were quite large.

The bell above the door jingled in a rather disturbed manner and Aziraphale didn't have to raise his head to know Crowley had entered. For some reason, the bell above the bookshop door always made that sound when the demon entered. But only for him. Every other time, it made its happy little tinkling chime to brightly announce a new patron.

Aziraphale had asked Crowley about it once. The demon just shrugged. "Dunno. Guess it just knows evil. You know, the whole candle, book and bell thing."

The angel didn't quite believe that, but he let the matter drop.

"Angel?"

"Be right there," Aziraphale called. He shelved the last book and dusted his hands together, then made his way back out into the main area.

Crowley was fiddling with a statue of a horse and rider, making it so the rider lifted his hand in a rude gesture.

Aziraphale took a moment to regard the demon. He was tall, lean and oozed confidence. His dark red hair swept upward into a flame-like do, which suited the demon perfectly. Even without the allusion to fire, it simply looked good on him.

"To what to do I owe this pleasure, my dear?"

Crowley turned his attention to Aziraphale and a tiny smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Glad my presence brings you pleasure, angel."

Aziraphale felt his face burn in embarrassment and he cleared his throat. "What can I do for you, Crowley?"

The demon stared at him from behind his dark glasses.

"Just passing through, thought I'd see what you've been up to."

Aziraphale walked over to the statue and put the rider's arm back down.

"Really, Crowley."

The demon shrugged with a little smirk. "'S my job."

"Not quite. Your job is to cause chaos and tempt people, not deface my decor."

"Same thing, really," Crowley replied.

Rolling his eyes, Aziraphale shook his head and went to gather a stack of books he had set aside. As he walked past the aisle that led to the back of the building, something caught his eye. Aziraphale frowned in confusion as he walked toward the doorway that led to his back room and peered upward. Something was hanging from the doorframe over him. It looked like a … plant?

It was a little green stem, with small, round, waxy leaves and white berries scattered throughout. The little sprig was tied together with a festive little red and green plaid ribbon and hung on a nail that Aziraphale didn't remember being there before.

The angel's eyes widened as he realized what he was looking at.

"Angel?"

Aziraphale spun around in surprise, giving a startled gasp as his back hit the doorframe. He hadn't heard Crowley approach. The demon's gaze flicked upward. He tilted his head slightly as he stared at the little plant hanging over Aziraphale's head.

"Is that…. Is that mistletoe?"

"I… well, you see… it's not…" Aziraphale struggled for words, unsure how to admit that he hadn't the slightest clue where the mistletoe came from.

Crowley gave a little smirk.

"It is, isn't it? You little minx, I would never have expected it from you."

"I… I didn't.."

Crowley leaned in close to murmur. "If you'd wanted a kiss, all you had to do was ask for it, angel."

"I... " He was breathing hard now, his pulse racing. Everything around him had vanished except the demon before him.

Crowley chuckled. "It's okay if you want it, angel."

Aziraphale was at war with himself, struggling to come to some kind of decision. Every scenario flitted through his head, confusing him with each possible outcome. Some he liked, others terrified him.

"I… I don't know."

"Sure you do," he encouraged. "I can see it in your eyes. You don't fight yourself that hard if you don't want it at least a little bit."

The angel closed his eyes, swallowing hard and leaning his head back against the doorframe. Aziraphale dug deep down inside himself and summoned the courage to tell the truth. For once it was difficult to avoid a lie. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes, staring at Crowley.

"I… I want it," he admitted softly.

A genuine smile spread over Crowley's face. "I thought so," he replied.

Leaning in slowly, he pressed his lips to the angel's.

At the first brush of their lips, Aziraphale felt sensation race through his body. He had heard stories of humans being struck by lightning. The descriptions he read were a good match to what he felt at that moment. It held him paralyzed in shock, but then to his surprise, his body responded without his conscious thought.

His eyes drifted closed and he leaned into the kiss. Arms slid around the slender waist before him, encircling the dark suited form.

This felt …. Right. It felt… GOOD. No amount of sushi, or crepes, or anything else could compare to this.

WHY did it feel right?

Crowley brought one hand up to gently cup the side of the angel's head and hold him steady as he deepened the kiss.

Perhaps he should not dwell on the whys…

The kiss went on for who knows how long. Aziraphale lost all semblance of time, his whole world filtered down to this moment, this feeling.

This demon.

When they parted, they both took deep breaths to steady themselves. Crowley's hand slowly lowered as they stared at one another.

"How was that," Crowley asked, a little smirk on his face.

Aziraphale cleared his throat. "Fine.. fine.." He winced a bit at how inadequate that sounded. "No, it was more than that." He met Crowley's gaze again. "It was wonderful."

Crowley smiled in return. They stared at each other in silence for some time longer, both unwilling to move and break the spell too soon.

Finally, Aziraphale came back to the present. Gathering himself, Aziraphale straightened his coat and smoothed his lapels. But when he once again looked up at Crowley, there was a feeling deep down that hadn't been there before. It was a nervous sort of energy, mixed with happiness.

He rather liked it.

"Would you care for a drink?"

Crowley smiled. "Sure. Sounds good."

Aziraphale smiled in return. "I've got a wonder cabernet I've had saved for a special occasion."

"I think this would count," Crowley replied.

Aziraphale smiled a little wider. "Yes.. yes I do think it would."

As Aziraphale moved toward the back room to get the wine and glasses, Crowley couldn't resist a smile to himself.

That mistletoe had come in handy after all. He'd wondered about the human tradition after seeing it on several Christmas movies that played non-stop on every channel. Crowley assumed (and rightly so it seemed) that Aziraphale would know the meaning behind the little plant. It also had been with the 5 pounds he paid the kids to sneak in there and install it. One kid distracted Aziraphale by knocking over some books and the other hurriedly hung the sprig up. It was a devilish plan, if Crowley did say so himself.

It had definitely turned out to be a better move than the mistletoe headband the girl at the store tried to sell him. No, he had decided, that might have been a bit too much, even when dealing with the oblivious angel.

"Coming Crowley?"

He smirked. "Not yet, but maybe soon," he murmured to himself. Raising his voice, he called in response. "Be right there."