[ Aziraphale can't deny that it's been a struggle, losing not only his magic and his miracles, but his connection to the Almighty as well. Still, he's been coping as well as can be expected. Miracles are just miracles, after all, and magic more of the same; it's inconvienent not to have it, but he's always had a fondness for doing things the human way, in any case. As for Her...
Angels rely less on faith than humans do. It doesn't take much to believe in Heaven when you live there, or in a God you've spoken to directly. Most angels might have broken, being suddenly cut off from Her that way. Aziraphale, though, has an advantage over the others. He'd lived on Earth for six thousand years, acting largely separate from Heaven, and perhaps most significantly, surrounded by humans. He's seen firsthand the power of belief without evidence. Seen how to live on faith itself.
And besides. He's not here alone.
He thrills when Crowley reaches for him, returning the kiss eagerly and releasing the present into his hands. ]
Don't be ridiculous. O - I wanted to.
[ He stops himself from saying of course I did, just barely, not wanting to imply any corresponding obligation on Crowley's part. As much as he adores gifts from Crowley, Christmas - Candlenights - is about giving, not receiving. All he really needs is Crowley. All he really wants is for him to open the box, to see his reaction to the gifts inside: a clip for his new, longer hairstyle; the softest, warmest scarf he'd been able to find (a dark red that looks almost black except when the light hits it just right, not a hint of tartan anywhere); and an intricately carved music box, one he'd fortunately happened to plan for ahead of time, and had enchanted well before the magic vanished from the world and no one could enchant anything anymore. ]
[Crowley's known Aziraphale for more than six thousand years, but even if he hadn't it didn't take that level of closeness to see the way he thrills, answering the kiss with eager lips that make warmth bloom in the pit of Crowley's stomach.
He doesn't really shake the package (knowing Aziraphale's love for dainty, fragile antiques), so much as gently tilt it side to side to get a feel for how the weight inside shifts, distracted by that for a second until Aziraphale asks if he can come in.]
'Course. Yeah, of course, come in. Think Monika stepped out for a bite, so I've got run of the place.
[He still doesn't sound jazzed about having to share his space, but he's adjusted.]
Wait- before I open it. I've, uh, gotten you something too.
[He turns to pick up a package wrapped in red paper with a black velvet ribbon. The creases are not quite as sharp and clean as Aziraphale might expect, but then, Crowley doesn't have magic right now to snarl and snap the paper into behaving the way that he'd always done with Warlock's presents.
He seems a bit bashful about the less than impeccable wrapping, too, though it's hard to tell with his ever-present sunglasses.]
[ He's been hesitant to say so, not wanting to embarrass him, but Aziraphale's terribly proud of Crowley and the way he's adjusted to having a roommate. No, he may not be happy about it, but he's not complaining, either, at least not constantly. He's coping, living and even - Aziraphale hopes - thriving in a situation he would have flat out refused to even consider just a few months ago.
He's just as proud of the way Crowley's wrapped his gift. Of course it's not perfect, but neither of them have magic to fall back on, and that makes the obvious effort Crowley's put into the presentation even more touching. ]
Oh, my dear, it's beautiful!
[ He holds it out before him, pausing to admire it before even thinking about starting to open it, and then looks back up, smiling. ]
Thank you, darling. Please - [ He takes Crowley's hand, leading him over to the couch as easily as he would have in his own rooms and settling in, turned slightly towards him. ] Open yours first, won't you?
[Crowley doesn't perch, when he's led to the couch, the same way that Aziraphale settles onto it. He doesn't quite manage his usual sprawl, either, though, slightly more attentive to the box in his lap.]
How could I not, angel? It's from you.
[He says mostly to set Aziraphale's apparent nerves at ease, though there's a tiny smile toying at the edge of his lips as he starts unwrapping the present.
He thinks about going slowly just to torture him, but he wants the angel to unwrap his gift too so after a moment he decides to just tear it open (even though it's a shame with how prettily Aziraphale managed to get it wrapped.
He takes the hair clip out of the box and puts it immediately in his hair, and buries his fingers in the soft, warm scarf.
But it's the music box that really gets his attention.]
[ Aziraphale's cheeks grow warm at Crowley's reassurance - it's especially sappy, even for Crowley, even here where no one else can hear him - and it's exactly the kind of thing he'd needed to hear. He watches, rapt, as Crowley opens the gift, happy and relieved when he immediately puts the clip in his hair and admires the soft scarf. ]
Not quite - here, let me show you.
[ He reaches over, winding the little lever at the side, and then releases it. The air is filled with music, magically (or miraculously) sounding less tinny than a typical music box might, and complete with the dulcet tones of who else but Mr. Mercury.
He lets it play for a few moments before speaking again, quiet and a little shy. ]
I know how you miss your car, and, well, I thought this might help.
[ Never mind that it's one of the most terribly romantic songs he knows. Perhaps even more so than Rick Astley. ]
[For a long time, Crowley is silent. He's silent because there's no way that he can speak around the knot in his throat. It's been months since he's -
Well, since he lost his car a second time.
And while yes, he has Aziraphale, and yes, in the end he's more important to him by far, he misses it. He's sure that Aziraphale feels the same about his bookshop.
In the end, he lowers the music box, reaches out and cups the back of Aziraphale's neck, and puts his appreciation into a kiss.]
[ He's silent so long that Aziraphale starts to worry. Is it too much? Is it not enough? Silly of him, really, to think that someone like Crowley might like something as twee and sentimental as a music box -
He's just wondering what he can possibly do to fix this when Crowley turns to him, gently cupping the back of his neck and kissing him thoroughly. Aziraphale makes a surprised, pleased noise against his mouth, kissing back in relief and happiness.
When he finally pulls away, he's pink-cheeked and a little breathless. ]
[Freddie continues to croon on as they kiss for a few long seconds.
At the question he laughs breathlessly.]
"Alright?" Aziraphale, it's-
...I love it.
[He pulls back reluctantly, then.]
Go ahead, open yours now.
[Inside Aziraphale's box are a few books, and a box of assorted chocolates. One of the books is a poetry book, one is a romance, and one is a collection of plays. The romance and the poetry book are signed by their authors, who are native to New New Aspen, but unfortunately the author of the plays has been dead for centuries.]
[ He'd been so caught up in the drama of Crowley's gift, he'd momentarily forgotten all about his own. He beams at Crowley, and then turns to the present on his lap with a look of anticipatory delight.
Like Crowley, he attempts to go slowly at first, not to torture Crowley but simply because he hates to destroy the wrapping job Crowley had worked so hard on. But there's only one way through in the end, and before long he's ripping the paper apart, eagerly examining the items inside. The chocolates get a murmur of delight and a good examination of the package before he reluctantly sets them aside (for the moment), and then he turns his attention to the books. ]
I haven't read any of these!
[ New books, and chocolates. What more could he need? He scans the summary on the back of the romance novel, and his lips turn up in a mischievous smile. ]
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no subject
Angels rely less on faith than humans do. It doesn't take much to believe in Heaven when you live there, or in a God you've spoken to directly. Most angels might have broken, being suddenly cut off from Her that way. Aziraphale, though, has an advantage over the others. He'd lived on Earth for six thousand years, acting largely separate from Heaven, and perhaps most significantly, surrounded by humans. He's seen firsthand the power of belief without evidence. Seen how to live on faith itself.
And besides. He's not here alone.
He thrills when Crowley reaches for him, returning the kiss eagerly and releasing the present into his hands. ]
Don't be ridiculous. O - I wanted to.
[ He stops himself from saying of course I did, just barely, not wanting to imply any corresponding obligation on Crowley's part. As much as he adores gifts from Crowley, Christmas - Candlenights - is about giving, not receiving. All he really needs is Crowley. All he really wants is for him to open the box, to see his reaction to the gifts inside: a clip for his new, longer hairstyle; the softest, warmest scarf he'd been able to find (a dark red that looks almost black except when the light hits it just right, not a hint of tartan anywhere); and an intricately carved music box, one he'd fortunately happened to plan for ahead of time, and had enchanted well before the magic vanished from the world and no one could enchant anything anymore. ]
May I come in?
no subject
He doesn't really shake the package (knowing Aziraphale's love for dainty, fragile antiques), so much as gently tilt it side to side to get a feel for how the weight inside shifts, distracted by that for a second until Aziraphale asks if he can come in.]
'Course. Yeah, of course, come in. Think Monika stepped out for a bite, so I've got run of the place.
[He still doesn't sound jazzed about having to share his space, but he's adjusted.]
Wait- before I open it. I've, uh, gotten you something too.
[He turns to pick up a package wrapped in red paper with a black velvet ribbon. The creases are not quite as sharp and clean as Aziraphale might expect, but then, Crowley doesn't have magic right now to snarl and snap the paper into behaving the way that he'd always done with Warlock's presents.
He seems a bit bashful about the less than impeccable wrapping, too, though it's hard to tell with his ever-present sunglasses.]
no subject
He's just as proud of the way Crowley's wrapped his gift. Of course it's not perfect, but neither of them have magic to fall back on, and that makes the obvious effort Crowley's put into the presentation even more touching. ]
Oh, my dear, it's beautiful!
[ He holds it out before him, pausing to admire it before even thinking about starting to open it, and then looks back up, smiling. ]
Thank you, darling. Please - [ He takes Crowley's hand, leading him over to the couch as easily as he would have in his own rooms and settling in, turned slightly towards him. ] Open yours first, won't you?
I - I do hope you like it.
no subject
How could I not, angel? It's from you.
[He says mostly to set Aziraphale's apparent nerves at ease, though there's a tiny smile toying at the edge of his lips as he starts unwrapping the present.
He thinks about going slowly just to torture him, but he wants the angel to unwrap his gift too so after a moment he decides to just tear it open (even though it's a shame with how prettily Aziraphale managed to get it wrapped.
He takes the hair clip out of the box and puts it immediately in his hair, and buries his fingers in the soft, warm scarf.
But it's the music box that really gets his attention.]
What's this? Jewelry box?
[He gently opens the lid.]
no subject
Not quite - here, let me show you.
[ He reaches over, winding the little lever at the side, and then releases it. The air is filled with music, magically (or miraculously) sounding less tinny than a typical music box might, and complete with the dulcet tones of who else but Mr. Mercury.
He lets it play for a few moments before speaking again, quiet and a little shy. ]
I know how you miss your car, and, well, I thought this might help.
[ Never mind that it's one of the most terribly romantic songs he knows. Perhaps even more so than Rick Astley. ]
no subject
Well, since he lost his car a second time.
And while yes, he has Aziraphale, and yes, in the end he's more important to him by far, he misses it. He's sure that Aziraphale feels the same about his bookshop.
In the end, he lowers the music box, reaches out and cups the back of Aziraphale's neck, and puts his appreciation into a kiss.]
no subject
He's just wondering what he can possibly do to fix this when Crowley turns to him, gently cupping the back of his neck and kissing him thoroughly. Aziraphale makes a surprised, pleased noise against his mouth, kissing back in relief and happiness.
When he finally pulls away, he's pink-cheeked and a little breathless. ]
You - it's alright, then?
no subject
At the question he laughs breathlessly.]
"Alright?" Aziraphale, it's-
...I love it.
[He pulls back reluctantly, then.]
Go ahead, open yours now.
[Inside Aziraphale's box are a few books, and a box of assorted chocolates. One of the books is a poetry book, one is a romance, and one is a collection of plays. The romance and the poetry book are signed by their authors, who are native to New New Aspen, but unfortunately the author of the plays has been dead for centuries.]
no subject
[ He'd been so caught up in the drama of Crowley's gift, he'd momentarily forgotten all about his own. He beams at Crowley, and then turns to the present on his lap with a look of anticipatory delight.
Like Crowley, he attempts to go slowly at first, not to torture Crowley but simply because he hates to destroy the wrapping job Crowley had worked so hard on. But there's only one way through in the end, and before long he's ripping the paper apart, eagerly examining the items inside. The chocolates get a murmur of delight and a good examination of the package before he reluctantly sets them aside (for the moment), and then he turns his attention to the books. ]
I haven't read any of these!
[ New books, and chocolates. What more could he need? He scans the summary on the back of the romance novel, and his lips turn up in a mischievous smile. ]
Oh my, this one looks steamy.