Work Text:
“Could you get the door for me, angel?” Crowley’s voice was muffled, coming from the outside.
“Of course, my dear.” Aziraphale glanced up from his book, his gaze then sliding down to Mango who, in the absence of the demon, deemed the angel’s lap sufficient for a nap. Sensing that he was being watched, the cat shifted in his sleep, pressing his cheek more firmly to the angel’s legs.
With a sigh, the angel gestured with his hand and the door obediently opened, letting Crowley inside.
“Thanks,” the demon said as he entered, his face buried in a spruce taller than himself. It was potted, in a pot with circumference that made it impossible to wrap his hands around it.
By all estimations, even if demonic strength was enough to lift it, he should have toppled over with such distribution of weight but he firmly ignored it, placing the tree in the corner furthest from the fireplace. The ceiling rose at least a foot to accommodate it. As the tree was being settled in its place Aziraphale frowned pointedly at the door, with just a touch of disappointment. It got the hint and closed itself immediately.
Satisfied, the demon looked at the angel. “This alright, you think?”
“Oh goodness, Crowley, it’s very lovely but the tree is so big. When you set out to buy a potted tree I thought it would be just a little thing to give the place some festive spirit.”
“Had to make sure all the baubles fit, didn't I? Besides, the humans were giving this one a wide berth, for some reason… so I gave it a choice. Either it was promising to be on its best behaviour and coming with me or it was going to be stuck in the pot for the next year.”
“Well, it looks rather handsome there so I’m sure its going to meet your expectations.”
“It had better,” the demon muttered, giving the tree a Look.
“Mrrmt?” It was at that point that Mango decided that a nap was all well and good but when there was talking going on, it was better to pay attention not to miss any offers of shared sushi (It didn’t happen often but when it did happen, it was well worth it). As soon as he noticed the tree, his eyes grew bigger and he jumped off Aziraphale’s lap to take a closer look.
Mango approached carefully, eyeing the pot that could likely fit a dozen cats like him. The branches were still a touch damp, smelling of rain and greenery. It extended far enough beyond the pot to create a natural baldachin, clearly worthy of a pampered feline. He looked up the trunk, assessing the expanse of the climbing surface approvingly.
“Mrrt,” he announced, appreciatively with just a hint of underlying expectation.
“Fine.” With a snap of Crowley’s fingers a fluffy pet bed appeared directly in front of Mango’s paws. He liked when this one appeared. It always felt pleasantly warm when one slept on it. “Just remember, the tree’s not your scratching post. I’m not allowing it to have any excuses to slack off.”
“Mn.” Mango responded, a bit offended and settled properly on the bed that immediately grew blissfully warm.
“Do you want to dress the tree now, angel?” The demon turned to Aziraphale.
“Splendid idea, my dear. Won’t we disturb Mango though?”
“Doesn’t look to me like he intends to let anything disturb him.”
“Oh very well, why don’t you get us some mulled wine from the kitchen while I take out the tree decorations," the angel said. “And we should place some lights on it too. You know, I think I still should have the Christmas tree candle clips somewhere.”
“There is no way I’m letting you put actual candles , burning with actual open flame on the tree. We’ll use ordinary electric lights like everyone else.”
“But they don’t have the cosy feel to them regular candles do…”
What was cosy, Mango thought, was his bed under the tree. He drifted to sleep as he listened to them discussing the lights. When he woke up, there was some music playing in the background. He yawned, stretched as only a well-rested cat can, and noticed a glossy, silvery bauble hanging from the lowest branch, just within his reach. He patted it experimentally. It bobbed on the branch, reflecting the tiny spots of light that looked as if they were sitting on the branch by themselves. He would need to investigate that later, he decided. He wanted to try climbing the tree anyway.
“Told you it was worth it to make sure they were unbreakable,” Crowley remarked from one of the armchairs by the fireplace where he was sitting with Aziraphale, sipping their drinks. “Having fun, Mango?”
The cat pondered briefly whether his dignity allowed him to admit it. Then he patted the ornament anyway. It was decidedly too much fun not to.