Chapter Text
Aziraphale wandered down the hallway towards the smell of breakfast. The wall beside him was littered with awards and framed articles, all with the same name featured. All except the new plaque in the middle, which held his own name. Crowley had been so proud to make space for it. So proud that Aziraphale had won it, even though Aziraphale was fairly sure that Crowley hadn’t known that awards for interior design even existed a year ago.
A lot had been different a year ago.
Leaving the hallway behind, Aziraphale walked out into the sun-bright kitchen where a world famous movie star was singing along to a Queen song while stirring pancake batter. His red hair was messy with sleep. His loose pajama bottoms hung low on his hips, leaving a tantalizing glimpse of skin below his T-shirt. And the smile that bloomed when he caught sight of Aziraphale outshone the morning sun.
“Angel! Good morning. I’ve got some tea steeping for you over there—” He pointed with an elbow “—and the pancakes should be just a few minutes.”
“Thank you,” Aziraphale said, moving forward to slide hands around his waist and meet him in a kiss. “I’m surprised you’re up first.”
“Jet lag’s working in my favor for once,” Crowley said. “And it’s been a while since we had pancakes.”
“Fancy ones, I see,” Aziraphale said as he stepped over to the table where his tea waited, passing a variety of toppings and potential additions to the pancakes.
“Only the best! What’s your pleasure? Chocolate chips, cinnamon, chewy crunchy weird bits of fruit?” Crowley finished stirring and tapped the spoon on the bowl.
Aziraphale laughed, taking a seat. “You sell it so well. Let’s go with the fruit. Those were good in the biscuits last time.”
“Fruit bits it is.” Crowley grabbed the bag of shredded dried fruit and ripped it open with flair. He poured a liberal amount into the batter, eyebrows doing a scandalous dance. “These are also fun because it means we can make fruit jokes.”
“So it does!” Aziraphale laughed again, fingers wrapped around the steaming teacup, heart lighter than it had ever been. “It’s a pleasure making fruit jokes with you, my dear.”
Crowley blew him a kiss. “Love you too.” He stirred the batter once more, then poured three precise dollops onto the griddle. The Queen song playing switched to another one, prompting more singing.
Aziraphale watched with a smile on his face as last year’s Sexiest Man Alive made him breakfast while wearing pajamas and a smudge of flour on his cheek. The Aziraphale of a year ago would have passed out at the sight.
“Hot pancakes with fruit bits!” Crowley announced, flipping them expertly onto a plate then gliding over to set it in front of Aziraphale. “For my favorite hot fruit,” he added, grinning into a kiss.
“Love you,” Aziraphale said. “You’re a peach.”
“I’ll eat your peach,” Crowley said, sliding a hand back to grab a handful of posterior.
“Hmm. Maybe after breakfast.” Aziraphale’s gaze lingered hungrily as Crowley threw him a smoldering look before slipping back in front of the stove to make more pancakes and sing along with the chorus of Don’t Stop Me Now.
It was a perfect morning. There had been an awful lot of those lately, and Aziraphale knew there were even more to look forward to. When Crowley joined him at the table with more pancakes and new fruit jokes, it couldn’t have been better. They shared talk of what they’d been up to while Crowley had been gone promoting the new movie; they critiqued the design choices that had gone into the TV sets for his latest talk show interviews; they made each other laugh with increasingly outlandish descriptions of one particularly odd-shaped couch.
“Was the back at least supportive?” Aziraphale asked. “Because it really looked like someone set out to make the most one-size-fits-no-one piece of furniture ever. Based on a hippopotamus crossed with a house slipper.”
“No, it wasn’t!” Crowley exclaimed. “I was just about falling over backwards when I tried to lean back. And the shorter guests didn’t even try. Designed in the ninth circle of hell, that was.”
“Probably on purpose, to make the guests have to sit in awkward poses,” Aziraphale said. “I got the impression this Carmine doesn’t really thrive on putting her guests at ease.”
Crowley pointed at him. “No she does not. And that couch is a crime against humanity. Bet you’d find a way to look proper on it; you’re always the picture of poise no matter where you’re sitting.”
Aziraphale’s mouth quirked into a smile. “Even on your lap?”
“Fuck, especially there.” Crowley sighed and reached out a hand. “You’re amazing, you know that? I’m tired of hiding you.”
Aziraphale took his hand. “Is Beez still saying to wait until after the movie?”
Crowley sighed in frustration, the fingers of one hand holding Aziraphale’s while his other ran through his own hair. “Yes, but I think that’s more because they’re busy than for any real reason. Coming out now could only make more publicity for the movie. There’s that whole queer sub-plot! The audience for this one specifically would be delighted to find out the star has been into kissing men this whole time. Well, one man,” he added with his trademark crooked smile.
Aziraphale returned the smile, rubbing his thumb over Crowley’s knuckles while he thought. “Agents don’t know everything,” he ventured.
Crowley scoffed. “Don’t tell Beez that.”
Speaking carefully, Aziraphale asked, “What do you think would happen if the word got out before Beez was ready to oversee things?”
Crowley sighed gustily. “Probably nothing worse than a scolding over the phone. They can handle it. And honestly, things are different from how they used to be. It’s not as big of a deal.”
Aziraphale tipped his head. “It’ll be some sort of big deal. You do have a lot of fans.”
“Yeah, but they’re more likely to send me keyboard smashes on social media than death threats, you know? The world’s more accepting than when we were kids. At least of some things. Other parts are a tire fire.”
Aziraphale couldn’t disagree with any of that. “So do you want to plan something yourself? I’m with you no matter what you decide.”
Crowley stared out the window. “I dunno. It seems smart to wait, just so we can be sure it’s done right, though I couldn’t tell you what that even looks like. I just know it’s the kind of thing that you only get one shot at, so you don’t want to trip up. No coming out of the closet only to fall over my own feet.”
“Right,” Aziraphale said. “I’m not sure I know what the ideal coming-out would look like either.”
“There probably isn’t one,” Crowley said, studying the way their fingers fit together. “I could be spinning my wheels over nothing. It’s not like there’s a handbook for this sort of thing.”
“I suppose not.” Aziraphale would have said more, but his phone buzzed once from the end table where he’d plugged it in to charge yesterday, then forgotten about it. “Oh, bugger.” He disentangled their fingers and stood to check his messages. Two missed calls and several texts.
Crowley asked, “Family?”
“Yes,” Aziraphale admitted, making an effort to relax his shoulders.
“That looked like a family frown. What now?”
Aziraphale skimmed the texts: three from his brother and one from his sister, likely prodded by his brother in the hopes that Aziraphale would answer one of them. They’d never been good with hearing no. Especially when Aziraphale said it.
He told Crowley, “They’re still trying to convince me to join them for Christmas. I have said I have other plans.”
“And they expect you to cancel those plans, just because they asked nicely? Or rudely? Christ, angel, they don’t deserve you.”
Aziraphale brought the phone back to the table. “Thank you, my dear. I suspect they simply don’t believe than any plans I’ve made could possibly be important by their standards. Previous years have been a night alone with books and a glass of wine, after all.”
“What if you tell them you’re seeing someone? Will that make your plans matter?” Crowley asked. “Cuz I can tell you, I’m looking forward to a Christmas where I get to unwrap you like a present.”
Aziraphale favored his lover with a smirk. “I’m not telling them that, dear.” The smirk faded. “Did I tell you that they don’t even exchange gifts anymore? We used to have a fun white elephant exchange, but Gabriel said we’re all adults who can buy things for ourselves, so there’s no need. And he’s hosting, so…”
Crowley’s incredulous expression spoke volumes. “That absolute tosser. And he’s surprised you don’t want to go spend time with them?”
“I don’t think ‘surprised’ is the word,” Aziraphale said. But he began typing a message anyway.
As I’ve already said, I have plans. I’m seeing someone who I want to celebrate Christmas with here. You’ll just have to enjoy the holiday without me, I’m afraid.
He sent it with a huff, then set the phone down. Before he’d barely moved his hand away, there was a reply.
Great! Bring her along. The family would love to see both of you. Christmas dinner is at 6:00 sharp, and you’re in charge of the bread.
Aziraphale blinked at the screen, not sure what he’d expected.
“What’d they say?” Crowley asked.
“They, uh,” Aziraphale flicked his eyes between the phone and Crowley’s face. “They said to bring ‘her’ along. And also bread.”
Crowley smiled, a spreading grin full of mischief that would have looked at home on any of his former antihero roles. “You know what would be really funny?” he asked. “If we took them up on that.”
Aziraphale stared at him for a moment. “Are you sure?”
Crowley shoved his plate aside and reached across the table to take both of Aziraphale’s hands. Aziraphale set the phone down to link their fingers together. Now it was Crowley’s turn to speak carefully.
“From what I’ve picked up about your family, I’m not impressed by their behavior. Pushy and degrading, and I’ve never once heard you end a phone call with them on a good note. Christmases with them are usually full of subtle bullying and assholery, right?”
“I wouldn’t phrase it exactly like that,” Aziraphale objected out of habit. “But yes, I suppose.”
“So what are they expecting right now?”
“Most likely, Gabriel will think I’ve made up a significant other as an excuse not to go home and be a disappointment,” he admitted. “It’s possible that he’d entertain the idea of me dating someone else he can look down his nose at.” Aziraphale thought about that for a moment, gazing at their intermingled fingers. He felt his own smile start to grow as he looked up at Crowley’s face.
“It would be really funny,” said the internationally famous movie star who Aziraphale was dating.
“You know?” Aziraphale said, “It really would.”