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The distinct scent of cinnamon, nutmeg and clove hung mouth-wateringly in the air of the cottage as Aziraphale busied himself in the kitchen; as if baking a dozen ‘ghost’ meringues and ‘zombie’ buns wasn’t enough, he had now moved onto the pumpkin-spiced pumpkin-shaped biscuits that were currently baking in the oven. The intense use of the aga was heating their home quite wonderfully, and setting everything against a warm, orange glow that directly juxtaposed the neon green flashing that illuminated their front garden – it emanated from a sign above the front door that read ‘knock… if you dare!’ and had Crowley rolling their eyes the minute their beloved had thrown it into their shopping trolley eagerly.
It wasn’t that they were opposed to the holiday, in fact they were a big spooky fan. it was just that they’d never really had a chance to celebrate it before, and wasn’t entirely sure why it was such a big deal to Aziraphale. The angel-incarnate rarely seemed at ease with things of an occult nature, and any time Crowley had suggested a horror film, he had quickly rebuffed the idea with a terrified frown. This month, however, he had quickly adopted a mood for it and insisted that they decorate the cottage for the village children, as well as dress up themselves. He was pulling the freshly baked biscuits out of the oven dressed head to toe actually as an angel – white robe and tinsel halo – as Crowley approached.
“Do we really need all of these treats?” They questioned with a sniff. “We already have the bag of gummy eyeballs and chocolate spiders.”
“Can’t hurt to have extras, and besides-” Aziraphale whipped around after placing the tray, his train of thought cut off as he took Crowley in and pouted. “You’re not wearing your costume!”
“Yes, I am.” They pointed at the devil horns on their head.
“Yes, but the rest of it? Oh, never mind.” Their partner seemed to quickly forgive their transgression, most likely conceding that it was hard enough to get them to agree to all of this in the first place, and turned back to his biscuits to decorate with orange icing. “As I was saying, you can never have too many treats, and it gives me a chance to show off my baking prowess.”
Crowley shrugged. “Can’t argue with that.”
“Here, try this. It’s a Chai Latte, I made it myself.”
They took a sip from the frothy mug of spiced, milky tea that was thrust under their nose and hummed. “Delicious.”
“Thank you.” Aziraphale beamed. Their doorbell chimed and his eyes glimmered in delight. “Oh! Our first trick or treaters! Crowley, quick, the door!”
“Relax, angel.” They reassured him. “It’s kids, they’ll just keep hammering on the door till I open it.”
Which is exactly what they did do until Crowley finally opened up, almost ripping the door from its hinges and reciting the phrase they had been ordered to say with a grimace. “Who dares to disturb the house of, err, horrors?” From the kitchen, they received an enthusiastic thumbs up.
“Trick or treat!” The kids all sang in unison.
There were four of them, and three of their costumes were so niche that it was a struggle for Crowley to understand them. They tilted their head and leant against the door frame. “Okay, so I get the grim reaper. What are you three meant to be?”
“We’re the four horsemen of the apocalypse, actually.” One of them announced, pushing his glasses further onto his head and pointing at the sticker on his chest that read ‘pollution’. “And, actually, it’s a rather brilliant idea.”
“There’s no ‘pollution’ in the four horsemen.” Crowley raised an eyebrow.
“Yes, but it’s a real problem.” The young girl piped up. She wore a sticker proclaiming her to be ‘war’. “Pestilence hasn’t been a thing for years. And it's horse people, remember?”
“Fair enough. Do you want normal sweets or something fancy from the angel’s kitchen?”
Aziraphale bustled into the doorway at that, brandishing his tray of pumpkin biscuits with a look of pride on his face. “Excellently inventive costumes, children! Now, be careful, these are still rather warm.”
“Thank you!” They all grabbed one and jogged back down the path. Crowley watched them with an embarrassingly full heart before blowing out air from their mouth and closing the door.
“Well, weren't they adorable.” Aziraphale sighed wistfully, smoothing down his gown.
“S’pose.” Crowley pulled a face. “Are you done with baking now? Because I really think you need to get that robe away from open flames.”
“You make a good argument.”
They seated themselves on the sofa, and Crowley flicked the TV into life, stretching one arm across the back of the chair as Aziraphale snuggled into their chest. “If I have to keep getting up to answer that damn door, you can stomach one horror film. In the spirit of Halloween?”
Aziraphale tensed but nodded. “Just this once. But promise that you’ll hold me if I get too scared?”
“I’m counting on it.”