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It was December. Snowflakes danced outside the window of the Bookshop. The Bookshop was warm. despite the lack of proper air conditioning, there was nothing a small miracle couldn't fix, Aziraphale had said. Crowley sat in what he had claimed as his armchair by the window, staring out and watching the snow fall and the people passing by. Aziraphale was rifling through his classical records, searching for something to play in the background. Perhaps Tchaikovsky would do it...
As he grabbed the record, the angel thought about it. He was hoping to go on some kind of outing with Crowley sometime soon. And he had heard a local Ballet company was doing their yearly production of The Nutcracker just around this time... He looked over to Crowley and set down the record on a table.
"Crowley, my dear?" He called.
"Yeah?" The demon turned his head over to Aziraphales general direction.
"I was thinking... Perhaps we could go to see The Nutcracker Ballet today?"
Crowley seemed surprised. "Since when did you like Ballet?"
"You'd be surprised how much you don't actually know about me." Aziraphale smiled gently.
He'd seen Giselle once, in France, when it originally came out in 1841. He'd thought it rather touching. He'd also seen Copélia- it was less touching, but still lovely and quite fun. The Nutcracker Ballet was a favorite of his, too. He was a big fan of Tchaikovsky and never quite understood why he'd hated The Nutcracker so much. Lovely man, though.
"Mmh, yeah, sure. Why not?" Crowley shrugged lazily. It really wasn't his thing, Ballet, but he wouldn't miss an opportunity to go somewhere with Aziraphale. They both knew that they wouldn't actually buy tickets– tickets were a thing that happened to other people. Aziraphale had already chosen good seats for the two to sit in and get a good view of the show.
"That's it, then! Show's in a few hours. Would you mind if we walked?"
"Course not. Whatever you wanna do, Angel." Crowley shrugged again.
Aziraphale smiled and balled up his fists and shook them- something he'd been doing for a while, whenever he got excited about something. Crowley would obviously never admit it, but it was incredibly flattering whenever he did that.
In the few hours before the two got prepared to walk to the show, they sat in a comfortable silence and people-watched. Aziraphale sat in the chair across from Crowley and sipped from a cup of tea as he read A Christmas Carol– not the most unique novel choice, but he enjoyed it. Crowley fell asleep on the chair, his head slightly lolled to the side and his eyes shut, the gentle rise and fall of his chest. Aziraphale swore he'd never actually seen Crowley look so calm. He'd miracled a tartan blanket to cover the redhead and continued his read. Crowley seemed to even look a little more calm after the blanket had miraculously appeared over him, sinking further into the chair.
It was about 5:00 P.M. The doors to the Theatre open at 5:30, and the show begins at 6:00. The angel really didn't want to wake Crowley up, but he knew he had to if he wanted to walk to the Theatre and get there in time. He closed his book and set it on the side table. He waited a moment before speaking up.
"Crowley, dear?"
"Ngh." The sound was very noncommittal. He clearly didn't want to wake up.
"You have to wake up now, if we are to walk to the Theatre and all."
The demon groaned and his eyes slowly opened, the vibrant yellow irises and slitted pupils greeting Aziraphale. He never told Crowley, really, but he liked his eyes. They did take some getting used to, but 6000 years was more than enough time to adjust.
Crowley sat up properly and slightly grimaced at the tartan blanket, but Aziraphale knew he appreciated the gesture.
"Alright." He sighed.
Crowley looked down at the tartan blanket and resisted another groan. The angel would never let go of tartan. But underneath the typical annoyance towards the tartan blanket, Crowley was rather flattered. He just didn't know how to actually thank Aziraphale for it. He'd never needed to thank someone for something. Maybe it was as simple as a muttered 'thank you' as he sat up, but it was weirdly difficult to be able to even think about saying it.
The duo sat next to eachother in seats just around the middle of the auditorium, wanting the clearest view of the stage- Aziraphale's insistence, of course. The angel sat and flipped through the provided playbill while Crowley creened his head over and also read through the playbill, depsite knowing next to nothing about the Nutcracker or any ballet. Who was this Tchaikovsky guy anyway? The lights in the auditorium dimmed, and Crowley removed his sunglasses despite the claim that he didn't care if he couldn't really see the show wearing them.
The overture began, and Aziraphale had to bite back the instinct to hum along. Of course he knew all of the pieces. Crowley would never admit it if asked, but he did tap his foot along to the music and watch the dancers intently. He vaguely recalled the invention of Ballet– it was a cross project between Hell and Heaven. Yes, it was beautiful, Heaven took charge of that, but Hell got the invention of the Pointe shoe. Crowley couldn't help but be mildly amused as he looked at the dancers with Pointe shoes on, knowing the absolute agony that must go in to that. They did look very lovely, though. This is why it was a collaborative effort.
Aziraphale watched the show intently as if he had never seen the Nutcracker before. Crowley was somewhat half asleep throughout the 1st part of act 1 up until they pulled out a cannon and that got him to sit up straight surprisingly. He knew it was fake, obviously, he just wasn't expecting that at all. He grew more and more interested as the show went on from there. The angel seemed to be bordering on tears during Clara and the Prince's pas de deux- Crowley wouldn't admit to anyone that he was very invested especially during the pas de deux. At most he'd admit he thought it was pretty and that he liked the music.
Okay, and the lifting was cool too. All of the lifts.
The demon was especially impressed during Waltz of the Snowflakes– whenever he thought it was coming to an end, it picked up again. And the fake snow? This Tchaikovsky guy must have been a genius. And the soloist of the dance? He could never imagine being able to do pull it off as well as she did. I mean, obviously- he wasn't trained in classical ballet and that was a role for women trained in classical ballet, but still.
Once intermission rolled around after Waltz of the Snowflakes, Aziraphale turned, smug. He knew Crowley was enjoying it.
"So, what do you think so far?"
"I've seen better." Crowley looked away and slumped in his seat again, trying to act like he wasn't impressed and still thinking of the pas de deux and how the hell the dancers during Waltz of the Snowflakes were still alive. And how he wanted to see more ballets with Aziraphale and maybe make the Nutcracker an annual tradition.
"Mhhmm." Aziraphale nodded slowly. Crowley was not good at hiding how impressed he was at all.
Act 2 opened, and much to Crowley's amusement and Aziraphale's embarrasment, it opened with adorable angels. They were exactly Crowley's stereotype of them- neat little robes, fluffy hair. Aziraphale just knew Crowley would not be quiet about that for the following weeks.
The rest of the act was fascinating enough- Crowley took a liking to the Spanish variation, and Aziraphale obviously adored the sheep in Marzipan and Mother Ginger with her little gingersnaps.
They both watched with intent as the Sugarplum Fairy entered the stage with her Cavalier. Crowley was intrigued by them both, but especially mindblown at the Cavaliers ability to jump. He was practically flying!
The Sugarplum Fairy had her iconic dance and Crowley could only wonder how one can do that many turns on pointe and come out alive. He also marveled at the incredible patience of the dancers who solely existed to stand to the side and decorate the main dancers.
Then the Sugarplum Fairy and the Cavalier came on together again, and once the music started, Crowley knew he was done for. He liked this music already, and it seemed to be another pas de deux. He decided to rest his head on Aziraphale's shoulder for the rest of the show, unable to deny that he loved it. This music was gorgeous, and the choreography was just as stunning. How could she do that many pirouettes? In a row too!
And the lifts! The lifts in this dance put Clara and the Prince's to shame, but Crowley still liked both of them the same. Maybe Clara and the Prince's a bit more. This one was more impressive, but Clara and the Prince's pas de deux felt more tender, like genuine love. Oh, Satan. The demon wanted to slap himself for thinking that way. So mushy!
The Sugarplum Fairy and her Cavalier exited the stage, and the finale began- he could tell because the music was big and dramatic and Clara and the Prince finally sat up after a full act 2 of sitting and doing nothing. He'd almost forgotten they were there.
He and the angel watched as all the other dancers from previous dances returned to dance alongside Clara and her prince. Chocolate from Spain, Tea from China, Russia (that terrified Crowley with how flexible they were), and those adorable little sheep, that, according to Aziraphale, were Marzipan from Denmark. Crowley recalled the invention of Marzipan. Felt unsuiting that it was invented in Hell yet it was associated with these adorable little Sheep and a Sherphardess. The soloist from the Angels at the start, the Rose queen- it was actually a bit overwhelming seeing so many of the cast on the stage together, but also incredibly moving in a way. The demon felt a disgusting sense of community.
They watched as the Sugarplum Fairy and her prince returned to the stage as well and the music seemed to become gentle as the show was beginning to head towards it's proper close. All of the dancers left the stage one by one, bowing to Clara one last time. Aziraphale was a goner, tapping his eye with that handkerchief he carried everywhere. It took a lot in Crowley not to laugh. The Sugarplum fairy did one last lift as she departed from the stage, as did Clara and her prince- and Crowley could see fog drifting in. The lights on the stage dimmed, illuminating Clara and her Prince in a blue and yellow spotlight as she held him, and let him go.
Crowley sat up straighter- what was this?! The prince exited the stage, and Clara was left with her hands still open. The demon watched as that creepy uncle guy from earlier, Drosselmeyer or whatever his name was, entered the stage, and placed the Nutcracker in her hands. She looked at it, and then pulled it close as the music crescendoed and finished, leaving Clara alone on the stage with just the memory of her prince. The curtains closed and Crowley was left mouth agape and eyes wide as everyone stood up and clapped. Aziraphale ushered him up, and he clapped in a daze. What in the Heaven was that ending?!
"What happened?! Was he not real?" Crowley said, sliding on his glasses as he turned to Aziraphale as they walked out of the theatre and into the lobby.
"It was a dream. She dreamed everything beyond the party in Act 1. So, essentially, yes, the prince was not real."
"That is so boring!" Crowley groaned.
Once they walked out of the theatre, Aziraphale instantly began chattering about everything he enjoyed about the show and everything he thought could've been better because of course he had seen the original run in France when the ballet first began and has seen so many different versions and productions of it he lost count. He thought the show was rather nice, but he'd- of course- seen better. Which felt rather mean of him to say according to him.
They eventually fell into a comfortable silence as they walked until Crowley spotted a rather open field of snow. It was not so dark outside… He briefly hesitated, then smiled like a snake. What the hell. Why not.
"Hey, angel." The demon singsonged, stopping and leaning down.
"Yes, Crowl-" Aziraphale couldn't finish before he was hit in the face by a snowball. He gasped in deep offense.
"Crowley!" He sputtered.
"What did I do?" Crowley grinned, teasing.
Aziraphale bought gloved hands up to his face and wiped snow off, scoffing disapprovingly. But Crowley clearly was implying he wanted Aziraphale to get him back. The look on his face (even with the sunglasses covering his eyes) just screamed come and get me.
The angel sighed deeply, before reaching down and making a snowball of his own. He hadn't done this in ages. But he did recall how fun it was. Crowley snorted and began to more stumble than run away, but it was too late and a snowball nailed the demon right on the back of the head. He laughed in that weird way he always did, and Aziraphale couldn't help but laugh himself.
A few snowballs later, and the pair were a laughing mess on the ground. They realised this is definitely a bit of an irregular sight- they appeared to be in perhaps their late 40s to the average onlooker and were having a snowball fight, but who the hell cares. Crowley knew humans, and he knew they at least kept their judgements to themselves until they were in the car or at the dinner table. Crowley also realised since they were on the ground, they could make- he was already giggling internally at the thought- snow angels. Something he hadn't done in forever.
He tentatively spread his arms and legs out and moved them in the motion to make a snow angel. The actual angel caught on quickly and laughed, joining in.
Crowley did make a snow angel, but he eventually folded his arms over his stomach and turned his head to look over at Aziraphale, smiling, having the time of his extremely long life. He turned his head back as to not be caught staring. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the angel reach over and draw a little demon tail on Crowley's snow angel. Crowley snorted and rolled his eyes.
"Oh, har, har."
Aziraphale laughed in response, his hand collapsing against the snow right next to the little snow demon tail. The demon could see the angels breath coming in little huffs, small clouds coming out of his mouth each time.
Hm.
Crowley thought about it for a moment, nervous, then, slowly, tentatively, almost fearfully, put his hand over Aziraphale's and gently grasped it. The angel gasped a bit in surprise, but didn't pull away.
In fact, he gripped tighter.
"Hey, angel?"
"Yes, my dear?"
"It's cold."
Aziraphale giggled, and the two sat up.
They held hands all the way back.
They finally reached the Bookshop, all red noses and flushed cheeks, smiles still lingering on their faces- Crowley's styled hair was a mess from the snow. Aziraphale pulled his keys out from his pocket, struggled to actually find the key to the Bookshop and hold it with his gloves, found the key, and unlocked the door, allowing Crowley to enter first. The redhead snorted, and Aziraphale entered after, shutting the door.
"Well," drawled the angel, "now that you've had time to process the ending, did you enjoy the show?"
"Mmh, yeah. Was good. Thought the depiction of angels was a little inaccurate though." Crowley smiled as he took his glasses off and rested them on a table. "Then again, they did get the stupid white robes and cutesy fluffy hair right…" The demon reached over and ran a hand through Aziraphale's hair.
Aziraphale chuckled. Crowley continued, "I still don't like the whole 'it was all a dream' twist at the end. What a classic, terrible way to end a story."
He wouldn't admit that he was really invested in Clara and the Prince's romance.
"Be nice! That isn't the point of the Ballet." Aziraphale tutted disapprovingly as he slid off his winter coat and took off his gloves.
"Whatever." Crowley made a face as he walked over and sat in his chair.
Aziraphale sat down in the chair across from him, miracling another book for him to read- not really Christmas or Winter related, but he enjoyed Jane Eyre so much. He did want cocoa though, and the fear of getting reprimanded for too many frivolous miracles was ingrained into him despite being technically-retired, so he did get up and manually make the cocoa- adding an amount of marshmallows that would have terrified even the craziest marshmallow connoisseurs.
Once he sat back down and began reading, he would glance up occasionally, every once and a while, to see Crowley absently staring at him from his little seat he liked so much. Those yellow eyes had something behind them- Crowley wanted to ask Aziraphale for something. The angel knew that look. He took a sip from his hot cocoa.
"Yes, dear?" He said, without actually looking up from Jane Eyre.
"Nh." Crowley muttered. Aziraphale knew he wanted something. Damn.
"Could I come over and sit with you?" Crowley muttered, his voice less confident and snarky than usual.
"Of course you can." Aziraphale smiled gently. Crowley sat up in an impossibly smooth manner from his beloved chair and slid over to Aziraphale's spot, taking a place on the floor right next to him. Aziraphale knew Crowley liked to sit like this, too- yet he always seemed so shy about asking to do so. He'd bother him about it another day. For now, Aziraphale would just let it be. He liked this, anyway.
He set down his cocoa and moved his book to sit in his lap, leaning against one hand and moving the other arm so he could place his hand in the demon's messy firey hair. He could practically feel Crowley melt against him. He liked Aziraphale's hand in his hair like this- Aziraphale knew that too, of course. Crowley's hair was actually soft when it wasn't gelled to Hell, pardon his French. The angel never told Crowley, but he did miss the eras where Crowley had longer hair and those natural ringlets of his came out. He always remembered the time, way back in the Beginning, in Eden, when Crowley let him braid his hair.
That was one of the fondest memories Aziraphale carried of Crowley, amongst many of course.
They sat in comfortable silence for a while.
Aziraphale broke it.
"There's something else you want, my dear boy. You can ask, you know."
"Mmh." A half asleep Crowley shifted a little.
He's right. I ought to just ask, Crowley thought.
"Ugh… Angel?" He muttered.
"Yes, my dear?"
"Can we see it again next year?… And maybe the year after that too?"
The angel laughed.
"Of course. I would love to."