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All over the valley spring was in full bloom. More precisely, it already was tipping over and saying its see-you-soons — but the breeze kept fresh, the flowers still covered the ground, pollen making Aziraphale’s nose itch.
It was only his second time experiencing the season here, and he couldn't imagine ever getting tired of it. After the rough winter, when all his crops had died — good lesson learned there — the ground immediately covered in snow and the days stretching for too long after getting used to the crops watering, it had been too good to be able to sow again and watch the whole valley so alive.
Not that winter had been truly dead. In fact, it turned much warmer than Aziraphale had predicted from the first couple days. His extra free time he spent in the library, and it turned out that was also Crowley's hiding spot from the cold. The garage had too little insulation for him to keep working on Bentley, the mountain winds much too freezing, Sebastian unhappy with the forced vacation from the mechanic’s internship, he told over a hot coffee Aziraphale had gifted him.
Aziraphale believed him. His wiry frame and tight jeans didn't seem built for the season. Maybe he should make him a warmer ensemble — Emily had become such a wonderful friend, her sewing classes doing wonders for Aziraphale’s clothes. The patches in his farm trousers started to look decent instead of sloppy, and he was pretty confident he could sew something if he put his mind unto it.
The man in the mirror looking back at him was a different one. A better one, too. Gone were the bags under his eyes from the intensive work at Joja's accountancy, rare now were his bad insomnia nights. Hard to not sleep when his body was so beaten up from the farm work; his hands turned rougher and stronger, but he discovered he didn't mind it much when it meant to have fresh ingredient in his kitchen. Surprisingly, it was the first time in a while he used his forever favourite waistcoat and bow tie, replaced now mostly for clothes he didn't mind staining. The biggest change though was that he was happy. Truly so.
That smile in the mirror suited him, matching well with spring and music.
He hoped Crowley would think the same.
The walk through Cindersap Forest was a pleasant one, as it was most days. The river was calm, the smell of trees fresh as the moos of Marnie's cows slowly became distant. Aziraphale crossed the makeshift bridge at westside, the nerves he hadn't felt until now making themselves present, hands turning sweaty and heart wanting to pop out of his chest.
He greeted Pierre, the small talk soothing him somewhat. He did the same with every villager he stumbled upon to his way towards the buffet, where he found a cold drink that would help with all the sweating.
His eyes travelled through the crowd and the beautiful decorations the town had made, until they fell onto the red-head, and immediately his cheeks heated up, no matter the cold drink.
There he was, basically hiding between the flowers on a shaded area, in the same place he had been last year. Aziraphale had been so sad to not have a partner to dance that time. He quite enjoyed dancing, and was rendered unable to participate… meanwhile, there had been Crowley with his dark clothes, lurking in the farthest corner and apparently choosing not to partake in tradition.
Aziraphale swallowed dry, and prayed to Yoba that his advances would be welcomed.
“He-Hello Crowley.”
His feet brought him towards Crowley without him even noticing, like he had been attracted by a magnet.
“Aziraphale.”
Was it his imagination or Crowley was as red as him?
“Lovely tradition, don't you think?” The response he got was just a jumble of consonants, but he was already used to that. “Well… Why don't you complain to me while we dance?”
