Work Text:
Aziraphale knew that Crowley had obtained a new piece of artwork the instant he stepped into the flat. Not because he spotted it, or anything so pedestrian; instead, the walls radiated a sense of anxious tension, like they were each trying to look as presentable as they could, possibly under threat of demolition.
That always happened when a certain demon was redecorating. He would order them to compete with each other for his favour, and until he decided which wall was best, they all stood a little straighter and caught light and shadows in fascinating ways. Since the walls were still trying desperately not to tremble, that meant Crowley hadn't hung the artwork yet, but it was somewhere in the flat.
Aziraphale wriggled joyfully at the realisation that this gave him a perfect excuse to do some snooping. During the holidays, too! What a thrill.
He found nothing out of order in the plant room - Lydia was sunning herself, and Bob was batting a fallen leaf around with his whiskers. He gave them both a pat on the head and continued his investigation. There was nothing in the kitchen either, nor in the lounge.
In the office, though, there was a large something sitting on Crowley's desk. Aziraphale peered at it, deeply puzzled. It was mounted in an ostentatious frame, suggesting it was indeed the item he was searching for, but the art itself was ... unexpected.
If it could be called art. Could it be called art?
[description: A nativity scene, featuring Aziraphale as Joseph, Crowley as Mary, Lydia as the infant, Bob the shepherd, the three wise goats Balthasar, Melchior, and Gaspar, the "camel" You Bastard, and Hjonkers the goose.]
Aziraphale was still staring at it when Crowley crept up behind him, wrapped his arms around him, and draped his chin over one of the angel's shoulders.
"S'good, isn't it? Bob made it." Crowley grinned.
Aziraphale blinked.
"Bob? Made this? For heaven's sake, why? What is it?"
"Nativity scene. Obviously."
"Right, yes, I recognize Perugino's background, but the figures are ..."
"All of us! Edited them in. Brilliant, isn't it?"
"Where on Earth did he get the idea to do this?"
"We saw a really tacky nativity set up in the window of a shop. Like, dancing flamingos and weeping Santas and the Easter Bunny and whatever. Obviously he was confused, so I explained, and he beeped until I told him exactly who everybody was, and he got really excited when I mentioned the Magi's names, but then he was disappointed when I explained they weren't our Balthasar, Melchior, and Gaspar. So I said he could imagine they were there if he wanted, and he did, and then he decided to make his own scene! I didn't even know he could!"
"He did this all himself, did he?" Aziraphale raised a skeptical eyebrow.
"Totally him! He menaced the computer til it did what he wanted. I did help him print it, but - "
"You told me you gave that printer back."
"No, no, I did. But there waaaaaas another - I gave it back once we were done, angel, don't give me that look."
"You're an absolute terror."
"Aw, thanks."
Aziraphale huffed, and then sighed, resignedly. "Did Bob design the whole piece as well?"
"I gave him some input on few things. Why do you ask?"
"Well," Aziraphale fretted, "It's not that I'm criticising, but I don't know that all of the figures Bob has chosen make sense."
"Course they do," Crowley scoffed. "It's a work of pure genius."
"But," Aziraphale insisted, "given her association with purity, wouldn't it make more sense if I stood in for Mary?"
"Psshh," Crowley hissed. "No, see, it's most visually logical this way. The original is a renaissance painting, some renaissance painters depicted Mary with red hair, and I'm the only ginger here. Had to be me."
"But Perugrino painted Mary as a blonde - "
"Yeah, but I've also got more motherly instincts than you," Crowley interrupted. "I was a nanny and everything."
Aziraphale rolled his eyes. "Well, then, if you are the Marian figure, why is it that my child, not yours, is in the central role?"
"Bob likes herding."
"How is that rele - "
"He wanted to be a shepherd. Are you saying my son can't be a shepherd if he wants to?"
"I said nothing of the sort! But Lydia is a lawnmower, in the position of the - the Infant ... "
"She's perfect for it! Straw!"
Aziraphale stared at Crowley, uncomprehending.
Crowley grunted and added obscure, overly enthusiastic gestures to his detailed explanation.
"Baby's in manger. Manger's got straw. Straw's like hay. Hay's like grass. Grass's, er ... cut ... uh, Lydia cuts grass. Yes. There. Completely reasonable association."
Aziraphale sighed. "I suppose I see your point, even though there isn't actually a manger in this image." A frown worried at the edges of his mouth. "And ... well, the whole scene is a trifle blasphemous."
Crowley cackled. "Okay, one, demon. We're supposed to blasphlegm. Blasphleme. Blasphremmm...mmmoving on. Er ..."
Aziraphale raised his eyebrows. "Is there more, or ... ?"
"Yes! More! Tacky! So much more tacky!" Crowley cried, triumphantly, remembering his point. "If this is blasphemous, what about all the tasteless ones that supposedly pious people set up? Yeshua with penguins! Mangers draped in American flags! Shepherds standing watch with guns! ANGELS DRINKING DIET COKE."
"Well, those are also - "
"And the whole premise of all of this, anyway. You know as well as I do that the way this holiday is celebrated has no relationship to the actual historical events. I mean, come on. They stole the date from pagans, it's a solstice celebration, it's been massively commercialised, and it wasn't even a particularly important holy day for hundreds of years. Remember when Cromwell cancelled it?"
"Of course I know all of that, but -"
"So we are going to let my little demonic artistic prodigy enjoy making his ingenious Christmas photoshops. We are going to hang this in a place of honour and we're gonna ask Lydia if she wants to make something too and no matter what she makes, we're gonna frame it and coo over it and love it, because it's going to be beautiful and it's gonna be hers."
Aziraphale bit his lip contritely, understanding. "You're quite right, darling. We should be celebrating our children's, er, unique perspectives."
"Exactly." Crowley nodded, satisfied.
Aziraphale hummed. "This is quite an innovative interpretation."
Crowley smiled smugly. "He's a visionary."
"I do have just one or two more questions, though," Aziraphale murmured thoughtfully. "True questions, not critiques."
"Ask away," responded Crowley happily.
"Why exactly is You Bastard in attendance?"
Crowley smirked.
"Every nativity scene needs a camel."
Aziraphale grimaced and shook his head, though his expression held far more amusement than annoyance.
"I see. And what of Hjonkers?"
Crowley broke into a gleeful grin.
"We-eh-ell," he chuckled, exaggerating the elongation. "Who could be better to represent ... Gabriel?"
Aziraphale, to his surprise, burst into delighted laughter.
"You know, I think you're right, darling. This truly is a masterpiece."