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In a sleek, hypermodern flat in Mayfair, a demon was glowering at an innocent cooking appliance.
How difficult could it be, Crowley wondered. Humans managed it all the time and they had not been walking the Earth for millennia.
At least the sushi would be up to par, he had ordered it specifically from Aziraphale's favourite restaurant. And the oysters would be delivered freshly on the respective day, so that was all set.[1]
He had his present, the actual present, ready. So the only thing left was conquering this. With a snap of his fingers he cleared up the mess in his state-of-the-art kitchen and dipped the big serving spoon back into the batter, eying the round disk in front of him in what he hoped was an intimidating manner.
At least he had three more days to get this perfect.
***
In a dusty, old bookshop in Soho, an angel was dithering.
Aziraphale was staring at the objects in front of him and was wondering. Would this be alright? Were they really the right things to give to Crowley? It could be so hard to get gifts for Crowley.
No, that was not precisely true. It was exceptionally easy to find gifts for Crowley. Aziraphale suspected he could give an empty cardboard box to the demon and he would beam at him and thank him and then hoard it away somewhere hidden.
But that was not the thing. Sometimes, just sometimes, he managed to find something that seemed to really carry a deeper meaning for Crowley. That would make the sardonic smirk soften into a small smile and cast a special gleam into the amber eyes.
And that was what Aziraphale was hoping for. The expression he would never be able to get enough of. That he wanted to bring onto the demon's face again and again.
He sighed and eyed one of the two things on his desk.
Was it too much? Would Crowley understand, beyond the plain material value of the thing? What he meant by giving him something that was valuable in more ways than one? Was it right? He wanted so badly for it to be right.
He assumed he would know in three days. At least Crowley would be surprised, he hoped. Neither of them had given the other any hints about what they were planning. He had not even paid the date any particular mind, not until Crowley had brought it up a few days earlier…
"So, angel, sold any interesting books lately?"
Aziraphale was not looking up as the bell jingled and he heard the familiar steps of a well-known saunter. Too concentrated on assessing the damage the shipment might have done to the delivery he had just received, he kept his eyes on the book in front of him and hummed noncommittally.
"Any Lady Chatterleys? Romeos and Juliets? Ars amatoriae?"
"Whatever are you on about?" He asked, half of his attention still on the book.
There was a moment of silence that finally made him look up. Crowley had somehow traversed his shop and thrown himself onto the sofa beside him. He was now staring at him.
"… when have you been out last?"
Aziraphale closed the book. Carefully. Then he took off his nifty glasses, cleaned them and put them aside before turning in his chair to give Crowley his full attention.
"What day is it today?"
"Tuesday, I think. Feels like a Tuesday, doesn't it?"
Aziraphale blinked. He really had no answer to that.
"No, I meant – what date is it today?"
"Haven't the foggiest." Crowley shrugged. Sometimes when Crowley shrugged, he seemed to do so with his whole body. Employed every single muscle and tendon that could be involved in the movement. It was equally fascinating to watch as it was distracting.
Aziraphale blinked again.
"Well, then how am I supposed to know when I've been out last. Yesterday, I guess? Or the day before? We did go to that charming café for lunch…"
"Angel, that was eight days ago." Crowley sighed.
"Was it really? Oh my…" Aziraphale sounded astonished, even to himself. He knew that he had a tendency to forget such follies as time now and again. And Crowley had been over as good as what he assumed was daily. And they had gotten rather distracted quite often…
"So…" Crowley continued. He had rolled onto his belly and was propping up his chin on his hands to look up at Aziraphale with a wide smirk. "Remember when we were in that café…"
"Oh, it was lovely." Aziraphale beamed at him. "That mousse au chocolat… Simply divine."
"I'd say positively sinful, personally, but yeah, it was quite nice. Not the point however."
"So what is your point, if you have any?"
Crowley's grin widened. "Remember the deco of the café? Or the specials card? Or the shape of the cakes?"
"Not particularly, no." Aziraphale thought back. He had not exactly been paying attention to those things. He had enjoyed perusing the menu and ordering a vast array of tiny sandwiches and various desserts – they had all sounded so delectable. Aside from that, his whole focus had been on his lunch companion. It was still so refreshing to be able to just spend time together. To finally enjoy each other's company in any way they fancied.
"Aziraphale…" Crowley groaned, drawing out every syllable.
"What?"
"The hearts! The glitter! All the horrid, sentimental rot! I'm really quite proud of this one, you know."
"What did you do?" Aziraphale drew himself up. Had Crowley been up to any wiles? Would Aziraphale have needed to do some thwarting? Did they even need to do that anymore? Sure, he still bestowed the random blessing while Crowley had fun playing around and causing mischief, but surely he would not have done anything really bad, would he? Nothing that would go against their new, unspoken agreement.
"Well, you know the increasing commercialisation of Valentine's Day?"
Aziraphale stared at him.
"Making a farce of True Love? Digging into envy and greed and vanity and pride? Well, and lust, I guess, for the lucky ones. You know… giving them the option to make a ridiculous, big production – or to do something really meaningful for those they care about."
Aziraphale continued to stare.
"Well, that last bit is just between the two of us. Didn't put that down on the report."
"No, I suppose you wouldn't."
"So, back to the question at hand: sold any… interesting books lately?"
Aziraphale rolled his eyes. "No, I have not. As a matter of fact, I haven't sold any books at all for a while."
"Business going well then," Crowley answered and there was that small, teasing smile on his lips and around his eyes. The one that hinted at something amusing only they knew. A little secret between just the two of them. That smile which Aziraphale could never resist[2] but answering in kind.
"Business is perfectly fine, my dear," he answered. "So, are you telling me that you invented Valentine's Day?"
"Nah, not invented." Crowley waved a hand as if the suggestion alone was incredibly distasteful. "Just gave it a little nudge. Had been a droughty decade. Needed something bad to show to base office. Spoiling what was meant to be a celebration of love seemed just the thing."
"Sometimes I really do wonder about the things you dabble in…"
"Not only sometimes, and don't I know it." Crowley grinned and jumped up from the sofa. "But really, it's not all bad, is it? It all comes back to choice."
"How so?" Aziraphale asked, fully aware that he was just playing into Crowley's desire of explaining one of his convoluted schemes but not minding it one bit. They usually were rather entertaining. At least when he had not been forced to do something really bad. Aziraphale knew that Crowley had always been capable to do really bad, had he just set his mind to it. Fortunately he rarely did.
He watched as the demon strolled up and down the backroom with a wide grin on his face.
"Well, you do have all that commercialisation. And a neat little rise of the sin levels. But nobody is forcing them to go along with it, right? Many take the day to make a statement to the opposite. And those that don't… If they go out and buy overpriced junk or spend all their money on little trifles, that's all their own doing, right? And then there is the motivation behind. If they want to spend half their income on their partners, or pets or themselves, who's to say they shouldn't? It might seem meaningless, but that doesn't make it meaningless to them. And if it makes them happy…" He shrugged.
Aziraphale was still staring at him and Crowley stopped mid-rant, suddenly appearing almost uncomfortable.
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
Aziraphale blinked. He had come to realise that he blinked quite often when talking to Crowley. Sometimes it really seemed the only appropriate reaction. "Your mind is truly a wonderous place, do you know that?"
"Thank you?"
"Should we…" Aziraphale looked down at his hands. Noticed that he was fiddling with them. "Should we, you know…"
"Should we what?" Crowley sounded honestly confused.
"You know…"
He felt Crowley's eyes on him and glanced up. The demon had his head slightly tilted and was looking at him in silent invitation. He had been doing that a lot. Ever since the world did not end. Ever since they figured out all of this. So often he just stood or sat or lay there, looking at Aziraphale with mild, earnest interest. Waiting for him to find the words to say things aloud. To speak his mind. Express his feelings. He had never had anyone giving him the space and time and attention to do just that.
"Well," he took up his train of thought again. "I wonder if we should be doing something like that. For Valentine's Day, I mean. Seeing as we are…"
"Lovers."
"A couple," Aziraphale retorted and gave Crowley a prim look. The demon just snickered.
"A couple who has been that vigorously –"
"Yes, thank you."
"- that you even forgot you haven't left your shop for eight days."
"I didn't hear you complaining."
"Oh, I'm not complaining, not at all." Crowley grew more serious. "But we could, you know? Do something for V-Day, if you really want to?"
"Do you want to?"
"Could be fun." The demon shrugged. "It's mostly for the humans, of course. But a lot of the things we've been doing lately is meant for the humans, so…"
"Yes," Aziraphale hummed, tapping a finger against his lip. "Yes, I think that would be rather nice."
"So, what are you thinking of?" The demon's grin was back full force. "You do have copious amounts of books for inspiration," he leered.
"We really don't need a special day for anything like that. But I might have an idea. And I'm not going to tell you."
"Why not?" Crowley pursed his lips in a gloriously overdone pout.
"Aren't things like these meant to be a surprise?"
"Hm, true. You have a point there," Crowley admitted and sidled up to him, slinking right up into his space and sneaking his arms around his waist. "But for now, how about some lunch?"
"That would be lovely, my dear." Aziraphale smiled and pecked one of the sharp cheekbones. "That café again? There are still some things on the menu I haven't tried yet."
"Sure, angel," Crowley returned the smile. "Sounds great."
Crowley's flat had been prepared to perfection. A wave of hand had made sure that there was absolutely no speck of dust to be seen.[3] The table was set for two, a red rose flanked by two candles placed in the middle of it. That was how these things were usually done, right? All those movies did hint at it.
Aziraphale had certainly seemed delighted.
He had picked Aziraphale up earlier and they had gone to a quite agreeable matinée featuring a very talented string quartet. After that they had gone for a stroll through Kensington Gardens. It had all been blissfully relaxed and they had chatted about anything and everything.
When they had arrived back at his flat, he had snapped his fingers[4] so the candles were alight and flickering gently as he was leading the angel to the dining table. Aziraphale had sat down with a twinkle in his eyes and a look of pure joy on his face.
The oysters had been approved of and the sushi savoured with obvious relish while Crowley nibbed a few bites, refilled their glasses and thoroughly basked in Aziraphale's enjoyment.
Nothing compared to the look on the angel's face however when Crowley put a plate of steaming crêpes under his nose.
"What – how – these are fresh." He sputtered and looked at Crowley. "Not miracled. Fresh."
"So they are." Crowley did his best to sound casual and hide a satisfied smirk as he set his own plate down.[5]
"What… How did you?"
"Oh, it's really not that much of a bother, you know." He shrugged nonchalantly, decidedly not thinking about the huge amount of burnt and splattered batter he had to miracle away during the last three days. "And I know how much you like them."
"I do." Aziraphale took a careful bite and virtually lit up. "Oh Crowley, these are delicious!"
As Aziraphale busied himself with cutting off another piece, Crowley dare to try some for himself. They were… surprisingly good. He let out a gush of breath he had not been aware he was holding. Aziraphale cleared his plate with a whole array of appreciative noises and Crowley could not help but chuckle and push what was left of his own crêpe over to the angel.
"I do have something else for you," Crowley admitted, once he had snapped away the dishes and they had settled onto the sofa.
"You do?" Aziraphale faced him with a little smile that did not do much to hide his excitement. "You really didn't have to -"
"No, no, no," Crowley interrupted him. "We said presents, not dinner. We go to dinner all the time."
"We go often, and it's always delightful. But tonight was quite different, wasn't it."
"Still," Crowley squirmed a bit. He was reasonable sure Aziraphale would be happy. But still… Well, there was nothing but giving it a go. He cleared his throat. "Well, there were the oysters. And the crêpes. Sushi just because I know it's your favourite. But I thought, maybe a memory a bit more lasting…"
Aziraphale looked visibly curious by now and Crowley took a deep breath. He waved his hand and was suddenly holding a square. He smiled at Aziraphale, felt the expression a bit tense around the corners of his mouth, but forced himself to relax as the laid the bundle wrapped in soft cotton on the sofa between them.
Aziraphale was staring at it. He must have some idea of what sort of gift it was. He had handled old manuscripts often enough to know how they were usually kept. He watched as the angel reached out with a careful, almost hesitant hand.
"Crowley…"
"Just have a look at it."
He took it up and gently unwrapped it, let the bundle rest on his lap as he gingerly lifted the leatherbound top to read the first page. Then he drew in a sharp breath.
Crowley sat and watched and felt uncomfortable wound up, waiting for Aziraphale to say something.
"Crowley. Is that? How did you…"
"You did always like that drab of a play. Never understood how it got to be so famous." He really had to fight to hide a soppily mushy expression by now.
"You made that play famous, you ridiculous beast!"
He grinned. "Might have helped a little."
"Please tell me you did not steal Shakespeare's first draft of Hamlet!"
"Shakespeare's first draft including editorial notes, I'll have you know. Can't help it if he left it lying around in his study."
Aziraphale stared at him, his mouth agape. For that look alone Crowley would have happily travelled back in time[6] to pilfer a few more hitherto unknown pieces of scripture. It was not as easy to catch the angel off guard as many people assumed. Which was half of the fun. Well, most of the fun, if he was to be honest.
Aziraphale brushed a trembling hand over the time-yellowed pages and they disappeared under his fingertips, no doubt to be secured away in his bookshop to be properly taken care of later. He was still staring at Crowley with wide eyes.
Then Crowley felt two exquisite, warm hands fisting in the lapels of his shirt and he was drawn into a hard kiss.
"You are utterly mad," Aziraphale whispered against his lips and Crowley knew that by now he had totally lost the battle against the stupid, dopey smile plastered across his whole face.
"Oh please," he murmured back, "this is hardly the weirdest thing I've ever done."
"So you have been holding on to this ever since the 17th century?"
Crowley shrugged and decided right then and there that there was no greater a gift to grant than honesty. "Have to admit, I did steal it as somewhat of a joke originally. You were up in Edinburgh and that stupid play took off and so I thought, why not. Might be able to rub it under your nose at some point. And then the right moment just never came."
He was somewhat relieved to see the unbearably sentimental expression he knew must be on his face reflected back at him by Aziraphale who looked at him with so much adoration and tenderness and … love… that it made his skin itch.
"You are very lucky I know I can trust you to properly treat and store such an artifact. I wouldn't have been as pleased otherwise."
"I'm well aware of it." Crowley snickered and finally got to safer ground by giving Aziraphale a wide grin full of teeth.
"Anyway." Aziraphale cleared his throat and fidgeted, suddenly surrounded by an air of self-consciousness. "I would guess it's my turn now."
Crowley untangled himself from the angel's embrace and leaned back, curious as to what Aziraphale might have gotten him.
"The first might come across as terribly unoriginal. Especially after what you got me. And it has always been you who has been the creative one – "
"Aziraphale. I'm sure I'll love it." He interrupted calmly. The angel flashed him a somewhat hard to read look and there was a slight dusting of colour on his lovely cheeks.
"Anyway. Well, yes…" Just as Crowley had done before, he waved a hand and drew a large scroll out of what seemed thin air. "I'm… Well…" He handed it over, his eyes resting on the space where the manuscript had been lying just a moment ago.
Crowley tilted his head and took the scroll. He loosened the silk ribbon tied around it and unrolled it.
"I know how much you treasure that Mona Lisa. And you did tell me that you talked about all those mechanical things with him. And so I thought…"
Crowley stared at the large sheet of old, brittle paper, covered in scribbles and sketches. Wings and schematics and witty remarks scrawled into the margins.
"I came across it a little while ago[7] and it made me think of you. You always did inspire them. The humans."
Crowley, carefully and silently, rolled the paper back up into a scroll and tied the ribbon.
"I… " He started but Aziraphale hurried on.
"I have something else, too."
He spared a moment's thought to safely tuck away the scroll[8] then looked back up at the angel. Aziraphale was watching him intently and with obvious nervousness.
"I hope this won't go amiss."
"Aziraphale. I really don't think you can go amiss." His voice sounded a bit hoarse.
"Because I'm an angel?" Aziraphale asked with a little, almost hidden smirk and Crowley breathed out a chuckle.
"No. Because you are you. And you know me. And I know you. So, just bring it on."
He watched as the blush on the angel's cheeks deepened and then a little box was pressed into his hand.
"Aziraphale," he cried, scandalised. "If this is a ring, I demand of you to get on your knee for it!"
"Oh tosh," Aziraphale tutted. "Stop the theatrics and open it."
Crowley smiled at him, generously ignoring the clear signs of nerves in the angel's posture. He slowly opened the box.
On a bed of black silk, a small metal plate was resting. It was connected to a chain and a hook. Something in the gleam of the metal reminded him of gold. And platinum. And something entirely else. Something ethereal. And sprinkled across the delicate plate was…
"It's an alloy. The metal worker – "
"Jeweller," Crowley interrupted absentmindedly.
" – the jeweller was quite surprised by it. Said he had never seen anything like it. These are sapphires and tourmalines and some black and white diamonds, too. I have been collecting them for a while. They reminded me of the stars…"
"It's one of mine," he croaked as he stared down at the glittering galaxy in his hands.
"I know your car doesn't really need a key. And you don't need a key chain." He heard Aziraphale prattle on somewhere beyond the rushing in his ears. "But you could always hang it on your car mirror like some of the humans do. Or wear it as a necklace, if you want to. Or put it on your desk. Or anything – Will you say something, please?"
He looked up at the angel peering at him with obvious apprehension. He placed the box onto the little table beside the sofa, then scooted closer and pulled Aziraphale into a crushing hug.
"I love you."
"I love you too, dear."
"Really. I do."
"I know. So do I. Will you show it to me, at some point?"
He drew back, somewhat confused, to look at Aziraphale. Surely he had shown it…
"One of your nebulas, I mean." The angel's smile was soft and wide and as brilliant as the night sky. "I would love to visit at some point, if you take me."
"I would love to." He promised and bent down to kiss him.
[1] It was a rather fortunate fact that the angel's culinary tastes were as eclectic as his preferences in literature. There had been countless times when restaurant staff had thrown him absolutely horrified looks at the composition of his meal. The only thing he was scrupulously meticulous about was the pairing of the wine. But Crowley did not need to worry about that. No wine he ever poured for the angel would dare to be anything less than a perfect match.
[2] Not even back then, on a wall spanning the Garden of Eden, when they were supposed to be enemies
[3] Not that the angel would have minded – or probably even noticed – a bit of dust.
[4] And sent a mental reminder to them to behave. He was the only one, aside from himself, who Aziraphale trusted with fire these days.
[5] He had decided to join Aziraphale in that course of the meal. Not because of a sudden urge for crêpes but in hope to quench the paranoid little voice that whispered doubts to him whether they really were edible or if Aziraphale was only saying so to spare his feelings.
[6] Not even he possessed that ability. He might be able to slow down the flow of time or make it stop altogether, but he could not turn it backwards. Maybe better like that, being able to travel back in time might have provided quite some temptation during his 6000 years on Earth. And he always preferred tempting others to tempting himself.
[7] About roughly 350 years ago. Time really did run differently when you were a supernatural, immortal being.
[8] Into a place where a very short while ago an old manuscript had been resting. He would take proper care of it later. Frame it and find a special place for it.