Chapter Text
Aziraphale couldn’t help but notice Crowley’s white-knuckle grip on the Bentley’s steering wheel. “Darling”, he coaxed, an eyebrow raised, “I know we don’t have the best memories of being in Tadfield…the--the air base. But, everyone wants to see you--”
“--Doesn’t mean I like them”, Crowley scowled.
Aziraphale sighed. “Oh, hush. You’re just being silly. I thought you wanted to do this--”
“--No, you do.”
Stunned silence. Oh, my. He’s doing it again. Aziraphale straightened, his prim mouth in a slight grimace.
“Must you be so difficult? As I’ve said, they’re all excited to see us”.
Crowley said nothing.
Aziraphale could sense a different kind of tension underneath: Crowley was obviously just nervous. It would be his first real Christmas, with a real family, and he wasn’t sure how it would go. Crowley always got defensive when he was nervous. Understandable, but he also just wasn’t listening, and Aziraphale was only trying to help him.
“Well, you can’t beat the country in the winter. And I’m sure our cottage will be lovely”, the angel offered. He had rented a quaint cottage for them near Anathema and Newt’s Jasmine cottage, just down the road. Crowley had grumbled that it was “lame”, because of the rustic decor, but Aziraphale honestly didn’t know what he expected. He’d made it clear he didn’t want Crowley snapping away the decor (or the exterior) to make it all modern and sleek. The cheek of it..! The townspeople would surely give them looks if the exterior changed (plus, how to explain it? That they had paid for an accelerated version of Build a New Life in the Country?), and Crowley would just complain more about them being harassed, and would ask to go home. Or worse, he would act like he had not too long ago, passive-aggressively, snapping at people and/or breaking things to mess with them.
No, that had thankfully stopped once he and Crowley had talked at the demon’s flat, Crowley having passed out drunk and Aziraphale reviving him. It had been delightful not just to talk, but to kiss him, to be held by him. There was a quiet power in it, Aziraphale had sensed, that had been simmering for six thousand years. And they were just getting started. He wanted to talk with Crowley more about it, but he was going to have to work at that, it seemed, as the demon was relapsing into recalcitrance.
I haven’t made him do this against his will, for Heaven’s sake. He wanted to come here. He can’t go back on it now.
Crowley kept looking in the rearview mirror, despite himself. Hastur won’t be there...that wasn’t him...you just imagined it. He shook his head, returning to reality. Aziraphale was asking him if he was going to be grumpy the entire time they were in Tadfield.
“Dunno. Depends on how ugly this cottage is”. He frowned. He knew he was acting terse and flippant, and that it was upsetting the angel. But he didn’t know how else to act right now. He was so tense--for Satan’s sake, what if the Tadfield group didn’t want to see him? What if Book Girl was still mad at him for ‘stealing’ her book…? What if Adam was mad at him for suggesting Aziraphale shoot him? But, they had inspired him in the end and saved the world...Adam was a good person. Crowley would never be that, despite the fact that Aziraphale had apparently always thought that he already was.