Happy Holidays, shoebox_addict!
Dec. 25th, 2023 06:33 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
goe_mod posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
go_exchangeRating: G
Warnings: N/A
Summary: Crowley has been cultivating a gift for Aziraphale all year, and no sudden snowstorm is going to stop Crowley from giving it to him.
Crowley had set his alarm for 3pm on Christmas Eve, to give himself enough time to shake off his early winter’s nap. So, being very rudely awakened by a phone call around noon was not a pleasant surprise.
Flopping his arm out of his cocoon of blankets, Crowley grabbed his phone on the nightstand. He blinked blearily at the screen, seeing the name Aziraphale. He tapped the green button immediately.
“‘Lo,” he managed to mumble out.
“Is this your demonic doing?”
“Huh?”
“Really Crowley, I can barely get out of the bookshop, let alone do my round of annual festive blessings. You could have picked a better day for it.”
“Angel, got no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You mean you’re not responsible for it?”
“What?”
“The weather.”
Crowley snapped his fingers and the blinds on his bedroom windows moved upwards. He crawled out of bed and sauntered over to the windows to see only white. Crowley let out a low whistle. Fat fluffy snowflakes were coming down, covering everything.
“I thought maybe it was one of your tricks; the humans wish for a white Christmas and you make them wish that they hadn’t,” said Aziraphale.
“Nope, not me, not this time.”
“Oh dear,” sighed Aziraphale. “Well, I believe I may have to cancel my plans.”
Every Christmas Eve day for centuries Aziraphale would spend the day dispersing blessings and performing minor miracles, as per his head office’s instructions. He continued the tradition even though he was no longer required to do so. Though Crowley cared very little about that; what he cared about was Christmas Eve proper. After everyone had closed up shop and the humans had wandered off home to holiday parties, the angel and the demon would hunker down in the bookshop, drink copious amounts of alcohol, talk and laugh and not come out until after Boxing Day. For that reason it was one of Crowley’s favourite times of year, Christmas notwithstanding.
“Give me half an hour and I’ll head over.”
“Crowley, don’t be ridiculous, you can’t drive in this. We can see each other at New Year’s.”
That was sensible, but it wouldn’t work. Crowley puttered over to his plant room. He had a special gift for his angel.
“I’ll be there.”
“Crowl –”
Crowley hung up the phone.
As a general rule Aziraphale and Crowley did not exchange gifts. That was a rule that Crowley broke frequently, often bringing his angel little treasures, usually with some offhand excuse. Aziraphale, on the other hand, stuck to the self-imposed rule. Not to say that Aziraphale wasn’t generous. The angel would gladly share his wine, his food, and his bookshop with the demon, but he rarely ever directly gave Crowley a gift. So, Crowley had been surprised last Christmas Eve when Aziraphale had presented him with a poinsettia.
“The schoolchildren at the craft fair were selling them, and I thought, um, you like plants, so.”
“It’s pretty.”
It was most definitely not pretty. It was a few wilted red leaves over scraggly twigs, in a foil-covered pot that could fit into the palm of your hand. But, the angel beamed at the compliment, and Crowley took the plant home with him.
Sometime in January Crowley got the brilliant idea that he would make the poinsettia big and beautiful, and he would give it back to the angel on the next Christmas Eve. There was only one problem: the poinsettia didn’t seem to want to grow big and beautiful. It would rather expire.
It was the most overdramatic plant Crowley had ever cared for. If he yelled at it like he did his other plants, it would start shedding leaves. If it wasn’t watered at precisely the right levels, it would wilt inconsolably. If it was moved from its perfectly sunny spot in the plant room, even for just a moment, it would start to wither.
There were times throughout the year where Crowley felt like tearing his hair out. He almost scrapped the idea all together, and only the thought of Aziraphale’s smiling face kept him on course. And now finally he had gotten the poinsettia looking half decent, and no snowstorm was going to prevent him from presenting it to the angel.
Crowley miracled on some clothes, then spent the next twenty minutes styling his artfully tousled hair. He grabbed a blanket, wrapping it around the plant’s pot.
“Now listen here,” said Crowley, “we are going back to the bookshop. You are to behave properly and present prettily. None of your theatrics, you understand?”
Crowley got the distinct feeling that the plant was ignoring him.
Crowley made his way to the ground floor, where the Bentley was waiting, covered in a thick blanket of snow. Crowley snapped his fingers and all the snow slid off. He secured the plant in the back seat, then got behind the wheel.
“Right, so here’s what’s about to happen. Your tires are going to grip the street firmly, and your wipers will have no trouble with the snow. We are going to make it safely to the bookshop. Oh, and I will have no commentary from the back seat.” Crowley looked back, and he swore the poinsettia would have turned away from him if it could have.
The Bentley performed beautifully, as it was wont to do, but that didn’t mean there weren’t some tense moments. Other cars, after all, did not have the Bentley’s dignity. Crowley had a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel the whole way over, until they slowed to a stop in front of A.Z. Fell and Company.
Crowley unwrapped the poinsettia, holding it behind his back as he carefully made his way up the snow-covered steps. The door opened for him because he expected it to, the shop bell letting out a mild tinkle as he entered.
Aziraphale came out from the back room.
“Crowley! You silly demon, I told you not to come.”
“Nah, a little snow can’t stop me.”
“Still, it was a bit of a risk.”
Crowley shrugged, then saw Aziraphale notice a red leaf peeking over his shoulder.
“Crowley, do you have a plant behind your back?”
“Uh, yeah,” Crowley said, bringing the plant around and presenting it to Aziraphale. “It’s for you.”
“Oh my,” said Aziraphale, accepting the plant. “Isn’t it beautiful? The most verdant painted leaf I’ve ever seen.”
“Poinsettia, angel, they call them poinsettias now."
“Poinsettia. Well, it’s lovely,” Aziraphale said with a smile that made Crowley feel soft inside.
Aziraphale took the plant and placed it beside the register.
“Ah, you’d best put it closer to a window, it’s fussy,” Crowley said, grabbing the plant and placing it on a table closer to the light from the front windows.
“Fussy? How could you possibly know that yet?”
“Don’t you recognize it?”
“Should I?”
“You should. You gave it to me last year.”
Aziraphale looked at the plant, which was nearly four times the size of the plant he had given Crowley last Christmas.
“Is it really? A miracle?”
“Nope, did it myself.”
“Crowley, you’ve outdone yourself. You are a wonder.”
Crowley felt his cheeks heat up.
“Um, well, it wasn’t always easy, mind you. This one had the temperament of a sickly Victorian child.”
“Isn’t that a bit of an exaggeration?”
“Not in the least, but it was worth it in the end,” he said, looking at Aziraphale. You are worth it. They gazed at each other tenderly for a moment, before Aziraphale broke eye contact.
“Well, it’s perfect. There is only one problem.”
“What’s that, angel?”
Aziraphale went into the back room and came out with a scrawny little poinsettia.
“The schoolchildren were selling them again this year.”
Crowley groaned.
“How about, for now, we put this little one with its friend near the window, and you and I have a drink. I have a special wine I’ve been saving for the occasion.”
“Angel, that is the best idea I’ve heard all day.”
Hours later, deep in their cups, they would sit together on the couch admiring the two red-leafed plants, one lush, one puny, both resplendent against the winter wonderland outside.
Adorable
Date: 2023-12-25 12:21 pm (UTC)Re: Adorable
Date: 2023-12-25 01:14 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2023-12-25 06:00 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2023-12-25 11:10 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2023-12-28 04:32 am (UTC)“This was a rule that Crowley broke frequently” lol good thing demons are supposed to break rules, if you make silly ones like that, Crowley
Okay so I bought a poinsettia from a grocery store on a whim two years ago—and then realized this was not just some pre-cut flower bouquet. This was a LIVING PLANT. I was determined to keep it alive, and even put in all the work of giving it the right numbers of hours of darkness to try to make it turn red for next year. I kept it alive for the whole year—and then it died right around Christmas :( Which is to say, this is both too relatable, and very healing for me, lol.
I love the poinsettia acting like a grumpy teenager being dragged to family Christmas visits XD
Painted leaf! I love learning historical terms from Aziraphale. That one fits perfectly, tbh.
The two poinsettias :’) And the angel and demon! What a beautiful image! Thanks for this lovely Christmas fic!
(no subject)
Date: 2023-12-28 11:17 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2023-12-30 04:01 am (UTC)He is, isn't he, in all his determinedly silly and sillily determined glory. :) This was so sweet! And like the commenters above me, I love the "painted leaf" detail, didn't know that either!
(no subject)
Date: 2023-12-30 10:47 am (UTC)