My Dearest Warlock

Happy Holidays To Everyone But Crowley

An angst filled Christmas chapter with a ridiculous amount of pining.

"Aziraphale, what is the meaning of this?" Crowley gave the thing a disgusted look, before choosing that maybe it wasn't so terrible.

It was a werewolf, dressed in red and black flannel. It was the size of an angel Christmas tree topper, although this decoration sat on a simple table instead. Tuffs of grey fur went in all direction, looking as though it'd been in the wind. Crowley guessed it was plausible that it'd ended up in the wind on the drive home.

"Is the werewolf a lesbian or...?" Crowley crouched down to eye level with the werewolf decoration, noticing that the eyes were a beautiful ember yellow. He gently touched the decoration, somewhat surprised to find the fur not overly stiff.

"I haven't a faint idea what a lesbian is," said Aziraphale, giving Crowley an innocent shrug. "But, I suppose the werewolf could be a lesbian. Am I a lesbian?"

"Zira, a lesbian is a woman that loves other women," said Crowley, pinching the end of his nose. "Seriously Aziraphale, how do you not know that?"

"I just thought that they were... you know, gal pals?" Aziraphale said questionable, his tone gently innocent. It was a sweet tone, like honey on the end of one's tongue.

"Aziraphale, get a hint," said Crowley, rolling his eyes. "They're lesbians Aziraphale. I mean, you had to figure with our friends Rebecca and Jennifer, when we were in Mesopotamia. No, it was Egypt."

"I just though they were friends!" proclaimed Aziraphale in a shocked tone. "Adrian told me they were friends and simply friends."

"Aziraphale, Adrian slept with about seventeen women and didn't notice shit. Curtis planned on stabbing him in the back, and Adrian was enough of a moron that he didn't notice, despite the evidence being right there." Crowley huffed, crossing his arms.

"Hmm... very true," said Aziraphale thoughtfully, giving Crowley a nod. "I do remember the term now. Tell me again, why'd we let them kill him?"

"Because Adrian was sleeping with their wife," said Crowley in a conflicted tone. "You said that Heaven condemned adulterers, so you ultimately couldn't interfere with the Divine Plan. Meanwhile, I was under strict orders from Hell not to mess about in Egypt, as the plagues would be upon the land in a year anyways. Beelzebub said it wasn't worth the waste of time, saying I could go to Greece or China or Mongolia."

"Oh dear, I might have made the wrong choice," said Aziraphale in a fretful tone, blushing profoundly. "Do you think I did? I let Adrian die on behalf of the words of God. It wasn't as though he was a perfect man, but he wasn't worth condemning to Hell! Besides, people did those sort of deeds without being turned to ash or allowed to die!"

"Angel," crooned Crowley, pulling Aziraphale into his chest.  "I'm sure it's all settled now. It's not as though you can change fate. Besides, he would have died a much more painful death during the plagues."

Aziraphale was so warm and cuddly, much like small kitten. Crowley was almost curiously what it would be like to snuggle- or be snuggled by- him, if it was better than this simple, deep hug. He wondered what it would be like, to wake up with Aziraphale's body pressed firmly against his. He meant that in the most innocent way, but it still couldn't happen.

Aziraphale and Crowley danced around each other, neither brave enough to come forward and admit their feels. They were like fire and gasoline- together, they would cause an explosion that neither were prepared to face. Like the sun avoided being close to the moon, was Aziraphale, trying his hardest to be the sun. And Crowley, the moon, could never get close enough to the bright being without being shoved away or at risk of becoming a pile of stones.