#ineffablevaletines

“Very rough day, it would seem.” Aziraphale poured the wine and handed it to Crowley, who took a large gulp before settling back down.

"You could say that," he said quickly before diving back into his wine.

“I'm sorry to hear that. I have something that might improve your mood.” The angel blushed as he stared into his glass.

“Oh?” Crowley shifted up to lean against the arm of the couch, watching as Aziraphale disappeared into the small kitchen.

“It’s not much, I’m afraid. Just a little something.” He returned to the front room, a bouquet of flowers in his hands. “I arranged them myself. They’re all from the gardens.” His cheeks were a deep pink as he handed them over to Crowley.

He took them, noticing the red ribbon tied around the stems. They were lovely, bright, fragrant blooms. Crowley remembered lovely afternoons spent chatting beside the gardens, threatening each plant to blossom and thrive under Aziraphale’s care.

“T-thank you. What’s the occasion?”

“Well, it is a holiday of sorts. I thought maybe we could celebrate this year.” Aziraphale’s hands pulled at his waistcoat, his voice thin with a little bit of a wobble in it.

“Holiday? In February? I don’t remember a holiday in-“ he froze, realization dawning.

“I do believe you’ve figured it out,” Aziraphale gave a shy smile, which fell as Crowley hastily placed the bouquet on the side table.

“Valentine’s day ?” Crowley sat up.

“Well, it is a day of celebration, is it not?” Aziraphale was choosing his words carefully, afraid to drive the demon away.

“Yeah, for couples!” Crowley looked exasperated, waving his arms around for emphasis.

“Aren’t we a pair?” Aziraphale was growing hot under the collar, embarrassment rising.

“Romantic pairs, angel!” Crowley shot up to standing.

“It's a day to celebrate love. All kinds of love, right?" Aziraphale’s voice was small, his eyes dropping to study the rug. "Can’t we celebrate our friendship?”

“I guess, but it’s mostly just about sex now.” Crowley had stuffed his fists into his pockets.

“Sex?” Aziraphale squeaked.

“Yeah, angel! And here I thought you were clever!” He shuffled to the door.

"I don't understand! We spend nearly every evening together! How is this different?" Aziraphale was desperate.

"Because you got me flowers!" Crowley growled. "We can't do this, Aziraphale! Armageddon is only years away!"

"I know! That's why I thought we should celebrate now, before it's too late!" he begged.

"Ngk!" Crowley muttered and headed to the exit.

“Wait, where are you going?” Aziraphale threw out a hand towards him.

The only response was the slam of the door closing behind Crowley as he stalked out of the cottage and across the grounds.

Aziraphale stood, dazed, for many long minutes. He stared at the door, hoping that Crowley would return, that he would re-enter the cottage and laugh at his outburst, that they would pass the night with wine and tales of the Dowlings. He had hoped to hear what made Crowley's day so awful.

He sighed when he accepted that Crowley wasn’t going to return and set about to gather up Nanny’s discarded items from the floor and coffee table, placing them on the chair next to the door. He crossed to the couch, his hand hovering over the bouquet. He considered for a long moment, then tenderly lifted the bouquet and set it atop the pile of Crowley’s things, hoping that he would accept them still.

He left the bottles of wine on the coffee table, remaining unrealistically optimistic that his dear friend would return, and settled into his chair to read for the night.

The sky darkened and brightened again as he turned page after page, losing himself in the poetic words and lush scenery printed before him.

He startled when he heard a giant knocking not long after sunrise.

“Angel?”

“Crowley?” Aziraphale set the book aside and hurried to the door. He pulled the door open a few inches, just enough to see the demon standing on the doormat, dressed in nanny attire, shoulders slumped, his head hanging low.

“M’sorry, angel. I didn’t mean to, well, I was surprised, is all.”

“I’m sorry, too, Crowley.” Aziraphale pushed the door open further, an invitation, but the demon didn’t move.

“No, you have nothing to apologize for. You did something... kind. It was nice that you wanted to celebrate… with me. So, here.” Crowley held out a gift box to Aziraphale.

“You didn’t have to bring anything, my dear.” Aziraphale smiled, stepping back to let Crowley in.

“I’ve got to get back to work. Just take it. Please.” He pushed the gift into Aziraphale’s hand and turned to go.

“Thank you. For coming back.” Aziraphale said softly, staring at the box in his hand.

“Thank you for giving me a place to come back to.” A whisper in his ear, a press of lips to a cheek, and Crowley was gone.

Aziraphale raised his fingertips to his cheek, a grin creeping over his face. He stepped inside and closed the door, leaning his back against it as he carefully lifted the lid off of the box in his hands.

Inside was a beautiful first edition book that Aziraphale would admire properly later, but his attention was on the note that rested atop its cover. He lifted it and read its slanted, scrawled script:

Angel, Let’s celebrate tonight. Your friend, Crowley

Aziraphale pressed the note to his heart and smiled.