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An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Have you read Three Plus One (Haikyuu!!)?
Yes, I am/was in the fandom
Yes, but I’m not in the fandom
No, but I’m in the fandom
No, I’m not in the fandom
Summary: He turned to her, asking, "Which one is the father then?" Yachi really wished she had an answer for him.
Author: @thepackwantsthed
Submitter: @starsandrainshowers
Note from submitter: Very cute and very sweet 💕
It's muh birthday :'3
Inspired by The Cursed Woman painting by Nicolas François Octave Tassaert Happy New Year 2022! ~\(≧▽≦)/~ Hope we will have a good year and a good life whatever happens! 💕💕💕 Full image here: https://twitter.com/Alice_lovelast/status/1476958328919973891
Mistletoe - the Cliche
I saw a post that was basically like “fanfic writers during the holidays: Mistletoe” and that made me laugh because it’s so true it hurts... so of course I had to add to it. I was going to do a 5+1 but I’m not that creative right now so... 3+1 instead.
It was the Holidays, which meant it was cold, and Crowley hated the cold. More than the cold, however, he’d always hated how everyone bundled up and found someone to snuggle with while he was always alone. Alone plus reptilian traits did not equal good things.
He usually slept through the winter, honestly.
This year, however, Aziraphale insisted they celebrate together, given the very near end of the world only a few months ago. It was December first, and Crowley found himself standing outside the book shop, glaring up at the lights and ribbons decorating the sign and around the windows. There was even a wreath hung inside the large bay window overlooking the street.
Crowley sighed and collected the several packages he had from the back of the Bentley before pushing the front door open. Over the stack of boxes – Aziraphale had insisted he bring more decorations, even though he could have miracled his own – the demon could see his friend adjusting a string of lights on a rather large Christmas tree he’d somehow managed to squish into the middle of his shop.
Aziraphale’s face lit up when he saw who was in the doorway. “Crowley!” he said, beaming, but didn’t move.
The demon scowled harder behind his glasses, eyes flicking to the sprig of mistletoe hanging over the shop’s owner. Oh, hell no. He halted, refusing to set foot inside the bookshop until he could get rid of it. “Come and help with these boxes,” he said, nodding at the stack in his arms.
His friend hesitated, then rushed over to collect the top few and place them on his desk. While his back was turned, Crowley discretely waved his hand and miracled the mistletoe elsewhere. By the time Aziraphale turned back around, his little ploy had failed without the demon even acknowledging it.
Aziraphale’s eyes flicked to the tree, then up, and disappointment flickered over his face. Before he could say anything, however, Crowley produced a bottle. “Wine, angel?”
The angel hesitated, then nodded. “I’ll grab some glasses, shall I?”
Crowley watched Aziraphale go, feeling slightly guilty for disappointing him, but he would be damned – again – if he let their first kiss be due to a plant. This wasn’t fanfiction.
- - -
It was snowing and Crowley was tired, cold, and more than a little irritated when he returned to his flat. He was ready to take a long, hot bath and go straight to bed. He wanted to sleep for a few months, snuggled up under his plush blankets, but he’d promised Aziraphale to be there for Christmas.
“I’m a demon, angel,” he’d said. “Jesus was one of yours. Sure, I was fond of the kid, but still. And his birthday isn’t even in December.”
But Aziraphale insisted and as much as Crowley didn’t want to admit it, he was thoroughly wrapped around the angel’s finger.
All plans of a bath and short nap were ruined with the scent of cinnamon and chocolate hit Crowley’s nose as he opened the door. Faint music was coming from his kitchen, accompanied by Aziraphale’s quiet humming.
Crowley saw the sprig before the angel came through the door and glared at it until it vanished, which didn’t take long.
“Oh! You’re home!” Aziraphale said, appearing in the doorway wearing a colorful apron and covered in flour. Crowley resisted the urge to grimace at the though of the angel cooking, instead forcing a smile as he took off his coat.
“Aziraphale! What a surprise!”
The angel waited expectantly until Crowley finished shedding his wet garments and strode past him. “Crowley, aren’t you…” he trailed off, eyes flicking towards the ceiling before his face scrunched in frustration.
“Smell’s good, angel, what are you making?” the demon asked to distract Aziraphale before he could be disappointed again. “And why are you using my kitchen?”
Aziraphale followed the demon into the kitchen, spluttering. “You’ve never complained before,” he pointed out, “and I’m making cocoa. I thought you’d like some with how cold it is today. I wanted to surprise you.” His voice held a tinge of accusation.
“Cocoa sounds good,” Crowley said, voice softer as turned back to face his friend and lean against the counter. “Thank you, angel.”
Aziraphale hummed his acknowledgement and went back to stirring the pot of cocoa.
- - -
He was expecting it this time.
When Aziraphale called and all but begged Crowley to come to the bookshop and help him rearrange some of the shelves, the demon knew his friend was up to something. That ‘something’ became evident the moment he stepped through the door: more mistletoe, hanging over Aziraphale’s desk.
It was only by chance that he managed to arrive while the angel wasn’t under it, as he’d been expecting. He couldn’t see Aziraphale anywhere, so Crowley snatched the plant from the ceiling and stuffed it under a pile of books.
“Angel?” he called, tucking one hand into his too-tight pockets and folding the box of mint truffles he’d brought under the other.
“Oh! Over here,” came the reply, several shelves to the left. “I’m coming, hold on just a tick!”
Crowley leaned against the desk and waited for the angel to come bustling around one of the shelves and stop in his tracks, eyes widening when he saw the demon. His expression subsequently crashed when he realized that he had, once again, been defeated.
“I brought you mint truffles,” Crowley held up the box.
“Oh,” Aziraphale said. “How very thoughtful.”
The demon swallowed and pushed off the desk, fighting his guilt. It hadn’t worked this time; Aziraphale was still disappointed.
“You know, I rather think I’ve got the shelves arranged already,” Aziraphale said quietly, not quite looking Crowley in the eye.
Crowley’s stomach dropped. “Right,” he replied, voice thick. “I’ll be going then.”
- - -
“Aziraphale?” Crowley knocked on the bookshop door, which had remained locked when he’d tried opening it. That hadn’t happened before.
There wasn’t an answer.
“Come on, angel, I know you’re there,” he tried again.
Still nothing.
“I’m freezing out here, angel,” he said. “I promised to join you for Christmas.”
The door finally clicked and slowly opened to reveal a rather rumpled angel, still in his pajamas. He was looking at his feet.
The stood in silence for an awkwardly long time before Crowley said, “Can I come in?”
“Do you want to?” Aziraphale asked, voice so quiet the demon barely heard it.
“Of course I bloody well want to come in, why else would I even be here?”
The angel’s eyes flicked up to his face in surprise at the outburst, but he quickly returned his gaze to his feet. “You’re not just here because I asked you to be?”
“I want to be here because you want me here, now can I please come in? It’s freezing,” Crowley shifted in place, unable to wrap his arms around himself because his hands were occupied with the two bottles of wine and large box of assorted candies he’d brought for the angel.
Aziraphale hesitated a moment more, then shuffled to the side.
As he entered, Crowley immediately began scanning the room for any hidden mistletoe.
“There isn’t any,” Aziraphale said bitterly.
Crowley swallowed, trying very hard not to look guilty. “Isn’t any what, angel?” he asked in his best innocent voice.
“You know very well what I’m talking about, Crowley,” Aziraphale snapped, finally looking up at him with – were those tears in his eyes? “I’ve been trying to- well, I’ve had mistletoe up all month but you keep taking it down when you think I won’t notice.”
“Angel, I-”
But Aziraphale wasn’t finished. “I know you don’t enjoy the holidays, but I hoped you might like them more if we were together, and you seemed to be okay at first and maybe I thought you just didn’t know what it was for, but then you kept ignoring it and getting rid of it, so I-” the angel paused, swallowing thickly as he obviously tried not to cry. “I thought we… but you don’t even want to kiss me,” he finished, voice quiet again.
Crowley was taken aback. Of course that’s what the angel would think; he hadn’t offered any sort of explanation and obviously he’d noticed whenever Crowley had miracled away the mistletoe traps. “Of course I want to kiss you,” he said. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for ages.”
“Then why-”
“I didn’t want our first kiss to be for some holiday tradition,” Crowley interrupted. It was his turn now. “I want it to because I want to kiss you and you want to kiss me. This isn’t fanfiction, angel, we don’t have to-”
“What’s fanfiction?”
Crowley stopped, jaw slack. “Right. You don’t get online. Nevermind. Anyway, you could have just asked, Aziraphale. You didn’t have to try and trick me.”
Aziraphale’s cheeks turned pink and he fidgeted in place, suddenly unable to meet Crowley’s eye again. “So…” he paused. “Will you… Can we…”
Crowley lifted Aziraphale’s chin and kissed him, the angel instantly melting against him. They parted. Aziraphale’s pupils were blown wide as he smirked up at his demon.
“What?”
The angel pointed up, and Crowley looked.
“Bloody mistletoe,” he hissed under his breath, but pulled his angel in for another kiss.
