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'Til Discorporation Do Us Part

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When Crowley had lived alone in his flat he never got mail. Not real mail, anyway. He really only got a couple magazines that he’d been tricked into signing up for (his own personal invention) and of course the occasional junk mail (also his idea, which he cursed every time it showed up). But letters from people? That never happened. He imagined that if Aziraphale had been farther than just a simple car ride away the angel would have sent the occasional letter, it definitely seemed like something he would do.

Crowley could actually perfectly visualize the man, perched at his desk with some oversized quill, dipping it in ink to write out a letter in the most ridiculously fancy writing. He could see it starting with ‘My Dearest Crowley’ and then signed with a simple ‘-Your Angel’ and he wouldn’t admit it to anyone but the thought brought a smile to his face. Now he silently wished he had at least one stupid letter from the angel, but that was besides the point right now.

The real point was that he didn’t receive letters of any sort. He didn’t receive holiday cards wishing him good holidays. And he didn’t receive invitations.

He especially didn’t receive wedding invitations.

Except now, standing in the bookshop he now shared with Aziraphale, he was clutching what looked to be just that. At least he was fairly certain that was what he was holding. The card was white with black, old style gothic font reading:

Thou Art Cordially Invited
to
The Conjoining of Anathema Device and Newt Pulsifer

Crowley scrunched his nose up and furrowed his brows at the choice of words. When he opened the card it had the more modern R.S.V.P. inside with a date, time, some options for meals, and then two little boxes to check. One read Yea and the other, naturally, read Nay.

The demon looked the card over multiple times. What was as confusing as the card itself was that the envelope it had been sent in read Aziraphale & Crowley. He, for the life of him, could not figure out how the witch had gotten the address of the bookshop, much less how she even knew Crowley resided there.

As he continued to gaze at the card in stupefied wonder, Aziraphale entered the shop from the upstairs. He began to flash a smile at the sight of his demon— it always brought him joy to see him there, to be reminded that this was home to him as well —but the smile shifted to confusion at the scrunched up look on Crowley's face.

“What have you got there, my dear?” The angel asked, making his way over to the perplexed man.

Crowley finally looked away from the card to meet Aziraphale’s eyes.

“I…think I have an invitation…? To a wedding?” The demon held the strange thing out to the angel, who took it with a small laugh.

“You’re not sure?” He asked, still lightly laughing as he read the card and opened it up. His laughter shifted to an elated smile as he took in the information. The smile brightened the room to Crowley but it didn't ease his distress or confusion at the moment. “Oh, dear Miss Device and that young man are finally tying the knot it seems! Isn’t that lovely, Crowley?”

Crowley for some reason was still lost.

“I don’t understand, how do they even know this address? Or that I live here?” He glanced around the shop, removing his sunglasses to get a better look at his surroundings as his eyes narrowed in suspicion, “Do you think they’re spying on us? Why the Heaven would they do that?”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes, “I imagine they wrote it down when I gave it to them over the phone.”

“When you what?” Crowley did not understand why this day was so confusing but it kept taking more twist and turns that left him stumbling. “Since when do you talk to those two?”

“Since the Apocalypse?” Aziraphale raised an eyebrow at the demon, “I also keep in touch with Sergeant Shadwell and Miss Tracy, who are doing lovely, by the way, and I even have the occasional check in with Adam. Last we talked he was managing to pass his classes and said he had taught Dog a rather impressive trick called ‘Devour Homework’. I could’ve sworn I mentioned that one to you.”

Crowley had to lean against the bookshop counter.

“No, angel, you definitely didn’t mention that. When do you even have these little chats?”

Aziraphale shrugged rather nonchalantly as he went back to inspecting the card. “Who can say? Either they call or I phone them myself when I’ve got nothing going on. It’s not all that big of a deal.”

“I just feel as if you’ve been keeping this from me,” Crowley muttered, slipping his sunglasses back on, arms crossed as he eyed the angel from behind his glasses.

“Don’t be ridiculous— Crowley, oh! Oh, dear, look we can choose between lamb, fish, or steak! Oh, I bet the cake is going to be just marvelous, don’t you? I can hardly wait.”

“I– You– Wait. We’re going?” Crowley looked baffled at this whole turn of events.

“Well of course we’re going, they’re our friends.”

“No. They’re your friends, apparently! No ones talking to me, angel.”

Aziraphale looked up from the card now, giving the demon a careful look. Crowley looked, well, offended. His arms were crossed as if in a huff as he leaned against the bookshop counter, and although he was in his sunglasses, he could see the determined glare on the mans face, looking everywhere but at Aziraphale. The angel held back the smile and laugh he felt bubbling up inside of him at the sight of how silly his demon was acting over a few phone calls.

He did his best to keep a steady, non-patronizing tone as he said, “Crowley, are you...upset?”

The careful tone did not help, Aziraphale learned, as Crowley’s head whipped around, a snarl replacing the glare he had been sporting before.

“I am not upset, why should I be?” He snapped, uncrossing his arms to push himself off the desk, “What do I care if you and the witch and Sergeant Witch Hunter and the bloody Antichrist are all best friends?!”

The demon knew he was acting a bit ridiculous, but the awareness of that was only frustrating him more. Especially since he wasn’t even sure why he was so angry in the first place.

He tried to storm off, but was cut off by Aziraphale stepping in front of him, using his hand to firmly push him back against the counter. Crowley attempted to push back, but the angel pressed himself against the demon, keeping his open palm on his chest and his other hand placed on the counter to block Crowley in.

“Now, Crowley,” Aziraphale murmured, still looking at him with a careful gaze, as if he could pinpoint exactly what had the demon so riled up.

“Don't you ‘Now, Crowley’ me,” Crowley snapped, still glaring. “I'm not going to some ridiculous wedding.”

Aziraphale's careful gaze faltered, eyebrows now furrowed in confusion, “So now the weddings ridiculous?” He sighed, palm not leaving Crowley's chest, he used the other hand to pluck the glasses from Crowley's face, “Why are you even wearing these? I've told you I prefer them off. At least when we're alone.”

Crowley's eyes darted away to avoid Aziraphales own confused gaze as he remained silent. The angel sighed again, folding the glasses up and slipping them into Crowley's breast pocket before taking a step back. He now avoided eye contact with the demon, not wanting him to see the slightly pained look in his eye at the direction this conversation had gone.

“Fine, don't tell me what's wrong. But we're going to the wedding, even if you find it ‘ridiculous’. It'd be rude not to go after they sent such a lovely invitation.”

“Angel,” Crowley heaved out his own sigh, already regretting his attitude. Despite Aziraphale's best efforts to not look hurt, Crowley still felt the sadness coming off him in waves. He took a step forward, hand coming up to rest on his angels cheek, thumb lightly stroking along said cheek.

Aziraphale shrugged, chancing a glance up at his demons eyes. He'd almost forgotten that he had removed the sunglasses, smiling slightly at the sight of the serpent eyes looking back at him.

“It's fine, Crowley,” he murmured, turning his head to place a small kiss into his demons palm, “I understand.”

At least, he thought he understood. In his head he thought the outburst was perhaps because the thought of marriage was simply out of the question for a demon. Most people tended to bring religion into it, tended to view it as a merging of two people under God, and he could see how that would seem ridiculous to a demon. Crowley certainly wasn't an ordinary demon, but he definitely wasn't one to want to bring God Herself into anything, especially their relationship. Although Aziraphale didn't see it that way exactly, he always thought marriage was a very human thing. But that argument seemed moot to the angel, especially after the outburst he had just witnessed.

But, no, in reality he actually didn't understand. He was correct in thinking that Crowley was no ordinary demon, that went without saying, but the demon didn't think the Lord had anything to do with weddings. He was also in the bandwagon of viewing it as a human thing. Only humans could think of a way to make relationships more confusing by bringing in the law, so to speak. Crowley wasn't entirely certain why he was so upset about the phone calls, he’d have to think on that one, but he knew the wedding wasn't what had set him off. If the angel had perhaps let the conversation go further he would have learned that the demon would have married him in an instant. Hell, he would have married him day one back on the wall of Eden, had the idea been invented at that moment.

But the conversation didn't continue. Instead it devolved into a gentle kiss that morphed into more insistent kisses and by the time the two were pawing at each other the conversation had been all but forgotten.

For now, at least.

 

 

The next morning Aziraphale awoke with a small yawn and a small stretch before his eyes roamed over to take in the sight of his demon still snoozing beside him. He hadn't been prone to sleep before the Not-So-End Of the World, or really even after it, but he had grown fond of it when he and Crowley began sharing a bed. The demon looked peaceful and warm and at peace bundled up in the duvet. When Crowley moved in he had brought his bed with him, insisting that his was the more comfortable of the two. Aziraphale had never disagreed with that notion and was happy to see his own bed go in favor of the demons.

He did miss the tartan sheets though.

But that was hardly anything to worry about, especially when he got to wake to such a gorgeous sight.

Finally, taking his eyes off the sleeping man beside him, he turned his gaze to the clock to see it was a little after nine in the morning. He climbed out of the covers, careful not to wake his demon, and padded his way over to his small wardrobe to fish out his clothes for the day. Aziraphale knew that if he got ready early enough to start a fresh pot of coffee before heading down to the bookshop then the demon would surely be up much sooner than if he didn't.

He didn't need Crowley to tell him how much he loved waking to the smell of fresh coffee, but he had once, in a rather groggy, half awake (and quite precious) sounding voice one morning. He remembered fondly the feeling of the demons slim arms sliding around his waist, and the gentle press of lips on the back of his neck.

Love waking to the smell of that, he had murmured appreciatively before graciously accepting the mug of fresh coffee and slinking off to lounge in a chair as he fully woke up.

It was those small moments that made Aziraphale's heart swell with joy. Those moments that reminded him why he never wanted to leave Crowley's side.

Speaking of never leaving his side…

Aziraphale eyed the wedding invitation that had caused such a fuss the previous day, held to the fridge by a small duck shaped magnet, as he began to prepare the coffee.

He hadn't expected such a negative reaction from the demon. Sure, maybe a sarcastic comment or an eye roll, but not such blatant venomocity towards the concept. A small part of him figured he should have expected it though. But, still, it hurt a tad. Lately he had begun toying with the idea– as silly as it may have been for two celestial beings –of marriage. But the angel loved his demon, he loved him so much it was quite frankly ridiculous at times, and the idea of essentially announcing it in front of others in such an official manner? He loved that almost as much as he loved Crowley.

Almost.

But, he supposed it didn't matter. Not really, at least. It wasn't like either of them had any family to invite, and the list of friends was actually quite small. They were already living together and were actually getting a lot better at saying I love you casually, which had been quite the task for both of them.

“Perhaps one day we could get a small house together,” Aziraphale murmured optimistically to himself, lightly fingering the invitation on the fridge as the smell of fresh coffee began to fill the kitchen. He could maybe even open up a small bookshop on the countryside, and Crowley could have his own garden, full of plants to holler and scream at as he saw fit.

But that was a thought for the future, he supposed. For now it was time to open his bookshop and prepare for another day of protecting his precious books from predatory customers.

 

 

Anthony J. Crowley woke to the smell of freshly brewed coffee, a smile on his face, and his heart soaring. He knew in an instant that his angel was the cause of it as he lazily crawled out from under the covers, not bothering to get dressed before making his way to the small kitchen. Getting dressed was the least of his priorities.

He wasn't sure if the coffee Aziraphale made tasted as good as it did due to a miracle, or if his angel was <actually> that good at brewing coffee. Or perhaps it was just due to the simple fact that Aziraphale had made it, and Crowley loved everything the angel did.

This reason was the sappiest one of the three, but Crowley always had a nagging feeling that was why.

Either way, be it a miracle or love, the hot beverage was perfect. He poured some into a mug Aziraphale had left out by the pot, took a deep inhale of the smell and then a small sip.

Perfection, he thought to himself, lips quirked at the corner, turning around to lean against the counter as he took another sip. His eyes fell on the fridge in front of him. It was adorned with few things; a small photo of Aziraphale and Crowley that the demon had taken once, a newspaper clipping from the day after the Apocalypse, and a take out menu from one of Aziraphale's favorite restaurants. And now the freshest addition. The wedding invitation.

A small frown fell upon Crowley's face at the sight of it.

Bollocks, he now thought as he recalled the events from yesterday. The angel had let them sweep it under the rug for now, but Crowley couldn't help but think the other man had gotten the wrong idea. He hadn't meant to get so riled up, and he certainly hadn't meant to snap at his angel the way he had.

He pushed away from the kitchen counter, opting to head for the living room— which was by no means a long distance from the kitchen —to sprawl across the couch instead. Taking another sip from his mug, he idly wondered why he had gotten so...well, upset. He hadn't wanted to admit to that yesterday, but he supposed in the comfort of his own head he could admit it. He had been upset. And he had been offended.

But why? Because the angel was chatting with the other unwitting saviors of the Apocalypse? He certainly didn't mind Aziraphale talking to others, especially not that lot. For Heaven's sake, he was more than allowed to have friends outside of Crowley. The demon knew the angel wasn't about to up and leave him for Shadwell or Bookgirl. Calling that a foolish thought would be an understatement.

So why?

He absentmindedly tapped his finger on the mug handle, a pensive frown on his face. Crowley liked to think he was usually well in tune with his thoughts. It wasn't like him being in love with the angel had been a shock, he had noticed those feelings since day one. As soon as the angel sheepishly muttered out a simple I gave it away, Crowley knew. So this, being unsure of the real issue, was frustrating.

Crowley drank from his coffee again and then rested the cup on his knee, his head lolling back on the couch as he shut his eyes in concentration.

He didn't tell me about the phone calls.

His eyes opened at that thought. He hadn't said anything about talking to everyone. Not once, despite what the angel had thought. Yes, the angel could have friends. But, and the demon realized this with an annoyed frown at his own childishness, he didn't have any friends. Not outside of Aziraphale. He didn't even have Shadwell now that he didn't have a job anymore and any real need for the man.

An aggravated groan escaped Crowley as he realized in horror that he wasn't angry with the angel for not bringing up the phone calls. That had been an oversight on the angels part. What he was jealous of was friendship even with the likes of bloody Shadwell.

“Well that's fucking stupid,” Crowley grumbled before downing the rest of his coffee, enjoying the feel of it burning his throat on the way down. Served him right for being so ridiculous.

He was a demon! For the love of Somebody, he didn’t need to be friends with a bunch of humans!

Right?

Right.

Crowley decided then and there that he would not be bringing this up to Aziraphale. Hopefully the angel would drop it as well, and when they went to the wedding Crowley would just have a great fucking time, even if it discorporated him. He wouldn't say one bad word about marriage, or weddings, or Aziraphale's stupid phone conversations with all his new best friends and Crowley would act his age. Whatever that was.

Launching himself to his feet, Crowley stalked toward the kitchen and slammed his mug on the counter. With a swift snap he dressed himself.

“Get your shit together, Crowley,” the demon snarled at himself as he made his way to the stairs, “You are mature. You are not jealous. Grow up."

And with that he stomped his way down the stairs to the bookshop to begin the day.

 

 

Anthony “Just A Mature And Not Jealous Celestial Being Whatsoever” Crowley was, quite frankly, not acting very mature.

He had started off alright, greeting the angel with a swift kiss and a devilish smile that had Aziraphale's breath caught in his throat. But as the day wore on his agitation worsened. He wished he could just will himself to not be so annoyed, but evidently life didn't work that way. Not even for demons.

To his credit though he had done a fairly good job at hiding the irritation. That is until Aziraphale brought up the wedding.

Aziraphale had just closed up the bookshop, and Crowley had gone out to bring home dinner from Aziraphale's favorite nearby sushi place. He had also gone to get some air and calm down but, as far as the angel needed to be concerned, it was for dinner. Crowley had sat down on the couch, removing the boxes of food from the bag, as Aziraphale exited the small kitchen with plates and a sideways glance at the invitation on the fridge.

“That reminds me, dear, what should we check for our meal?”

“What the Hell are you talking about? I brought sushi.” Crowley asked without looking up.

“No, silly, I meant for the wedding. We have to pick one of the options. I was thinking of the fish, but the lamb also seemed rather tempting–”

Crowley slammed the box of food down on the coffee table, immediately regretting his actions when the angel stopped short.

“Crowley…?” Aziraphale began, concern obvious in his tone.

The demon took a steadying breath, reminding himself not to make another spectacle of himself.

“Sorry, it uh, slipped. Out of my hands.” He gestured vaguely to the box he had slammed down, “The box, I mean.” He looked up at the angel to see his mouth was pressed in a thin line.

“Crowley, do you want to talk–”

Nope, just want to eat and drink. Just pick whatever you want, I'm sure I'll be fine with it. The ah, meal I mean. For the wedding.”

Aziraphale continued to look at him, worry still fresh in his eyes.

“Angel, please, I'm sorry. Just...just sit. I'll get some glasses!” He hopped to his feet at this, urging the angel to take his own seat on the couch. “I know there's a red wine you've been eyeing in the kitchen, just relax.”

The angel continued to eye him, but sat down regardless, setting the plates on the table as he did so.

“Wine does sound lovely,” he whispered.

“Great!” Crowley quickly dashed into the kitchen, fetching down wine glasses and a bottle of red before returning to the couch, eager to put his angels mind at ease.

Aziraphale seemed to have let the moment pass by the time Crowley had opened the bottle and poured them two generous glasses of wine.

Thank Somebody, Crowley thought, a wave of relief washing over him.

They clinked their glasses together as Crowley gave him a genuine smile, and a simple, “To us.”

Aziraphale couldn't stop himself from smiling at that, his eyes crinkling as he did so as he repeated back to his demon, “To us.

They finished their dinner, Crowley careful to keep himself in check the rest of the meal. He watched as the angel downed the rest of his wine, setting the empty glass down on the coffee table beside the now empty plates. The earlier conversation was once again forgotten, but the demon still felt guilty. He could still see the look he had been given, the slight hurt in the angels eyes that Aziraphale had tried to hide.

“That was lovely,” Aziraphale said, turning his attention to the demon, smiling that damn smile that always made Crowley’s heart simultaneously melt and flutter.

Crowley leaned forward then, cupping the angels cheek with one hand, letting the other rest on his soft thigh as he pressed a kiss to his lips. Aziraphale sighed in response, a soft, sweet sound, as he parted his lips to let Crowley’s tongue slide in.

The angel tasted of wine and sushi. Crowley groaned into the kiss, hand sliding up into his angels hair to hold him closer. He tried to pour as much love into the kiss, tried desperately to show the angel he of course loved him, would happily marry the angel on the moon if given the chance. Naturally, you could only convey so much with a kiss though.

Aziraphale melted against his demon, whispering a soft, “My, dear,” gripping the demons hips.

As the angel pushed the demon onto his back, mouth moving slowly against his demons, pushing each other's respective jackets off and out of the way of their wandering hands, Crowley quietly chastised himself. He reminded himself to get his act together before they had to actually go to the blasted wedding.

He should be over himself by then anyway

 

 

Evidently, he was not over himself.

The wedding itself was rather lovely, at least that's what Aziraphale kept saying as they walked in. The couple had chosen to get married in a small park in Tadfield, and it was a simple affair. There were, naturally, chairs lined on either side of a gazebo that had been decorated with daisies and roses along its columns. The same flowers sat at each corner of the aisle in decorative vases, and the walkway had a simple white, lacy carpet for the bride to make her entrance on. Behind the chairs were posts in the ground, draping lines of white lights to light up the scene. It looked as if the ceremony was going to take place at sunset, and Aziraphale could hardly wait to see it.

Crowley, on the other hand, felt wildly out of place.

It wasn't as if he looked out of place. He looked rather dashing actually, again according to Aziraphale. He was dressed in a simple black suit, his snake belt had made it along for the ride, and his hair was in perfect shape as always. He knew he and his angel made quite a sight. Especially with Aziraphale's unsurprising choice of a white suit.

I thought it was rude to wear white to a wedding if you weren't the bride, Crowley had said to the angel after the initial shock of how beautiful he looked wore off.

Aziraphale had merely rolled his eyes at that and adjusted his light blue tartan bow tie with a simple, That's only for dresses, my dear.

Crowley hadn't known how to argue with that, so he dropped it. He was just glad he didn't have to convince his angel to not wear his ridiculous waist coat.

In any case, they may have looked like they belonged— and the angel absolutely belonged —but Crowley surely didn't. Not in his mind at least.

As the angel pranced around, dragging his demon as he went, he greeted almost all of the people he'd come to know as friends. First on the list had been Adam who was gathered with his gang of friends and, of course, Dog. The girl (Pepper, he was almost sure that was her name) had said something about the inherent sexism of wedding attire for women, but still huffed out a small thanks when Aziraphale had told her how lovely she looked in her dress.

The angel had absolutely gushed at the little bow tie that Adam had strapped to Dogs neck. Crowley did get a good chuckle out of this, but couldn't think of anything to actually say to the group of children.

What was he supposed to say? How do you do, been enjoying life since the Apocalypse? How's school going? Seemed fairly silly.

And then there was Shadwell and Miss Tracy. Aziraphale immediately fell into laughter with the woman about their shared body experience, both remarking on the wedding and how quaint it was. At the very least Crowley felt a little better looking at Shadwell. He looked as out of place in a suit as the demon felt. The Sergeant tried to say something to him, but Crowley could barely hear him over the roaring in his head.

What was he supposed to say to these people and why did it come so bloody easily to the angel?

The demon saw Aziraphale glance over at him, a touch of concern darkening his face as he did so and Crowley shifted to a small smile. It was a bit forced, but it was a smile.

The angel sighed, excused the two of them, and pulled him to the side.

“What's wrong? You've barely said a word since we got here.”

“I've said something.”

“Yes, you said, ‘Hello, human children’ and then I think you grunted at Shadwell and Tracy so that's about three and a half whole words. Fabulous job, darling.”

Crowley tried to glare at Aziraphale, but he knew the angel wasn't wrong.

“I just don't know what to say to these people, okay?” Crowley shrugged, “It's not like I'm the one whose been having in depth conversations with them on the phone, no one's talking to me.”

The angel rolled his eyes, “It's hard to talk to someone who's standing around doing his best to imitate a rain cloud, Crowley. And they aren't in depth conversations. Why is this bothering you?”

Crowley's jaw clenched.

Aziraphale sighed helplessly, slightly shifting away from the demon. He cast his gaze downward as he murmured, “I get that you hate weddings, Crowley, but it's not as if I'm about to force you into one so can you just pretend to have a good time and then they'll never be brought up again, okay?

That sentence alone felt like a slap to the face for the demon, and the hurt look in his angels eyes was like salt in the wound.

“Now wait a second, angel-”

Before he could finish, before he could try to fix this terrible feeling he'd caused in his angel, someone called out for everyone to take their seats. The wedding was about to begin.

Aziraphale pivoted on his heel and made his way to the chairs, leaving Crowley feeling like an utter fool in his wake. If it weren't for the fact that bolting would just make matters worse, the demon would have done just that. He would have found the nearest bar and downed as much alcohol as possible before passing out.

Instead he headed for his seat, sliding next to the angel that was doing his best to not look him in the eye.

Crowley felt his head spinning. He didn't hate weddings. And Aziraphale could never force him into one, not when he would jump at the chance. But now he'd gone and put that idea in the angels head, he'd gone and mucked up the whole day it seemed.

He had to fix this.

“Angel,” he whispered, but once again he was cut off. This time by the sound of the wedding march starting and everyone expectantly turning their heads. Crowley bit back a sigh and turned his head as well to see Anathema herself, dressed in a tasteful white gown. It had traces of dark blue lace at the sleeves and neck, and her veil was the same shade. Her hair fell in light waves around her shoulders, and she had a small smile on her face as she began to walk. Crowley had to admit she looked rather stunning.

She walked down the aisle with grace. Crowley shifted his attention to the groom standing at the gazebo. Newt was in a fairly classic tux and looked as nervous as Anathema looked beautiful.

Business as usual then.

When the two met at the gazebo Anathemas smile grew wider, beaming at her husband-to-be. At the sight of this Crowley noticed a slight shift in Newt, a bit of nervousness eased away and he matched her smile tenfold.

Crowley idly wondered if Aziraphale would look that happy on their own wedding day. If they got one at this point.

Standing between Anathema and Newt was the...the…Crowley pursed his lips, unable to recall what exactly the title was for the person. The whatever-you-call-the-person-who-officiates-wedding stood between them though in a rather nice suit, hands clasped, smiling at the two before her before she cleared her throat to begin.

“As I’m sure you all know we are gathered here today to witness the marriage of Anathema Device,” she gestured to the bride, “and Newt Pulsifer,” another gesture but this time to the groom. “It’s been my honor to get to know them over the past few weeks as they prepared for this special day. Before I continue though, I believe they each prepared their own vows.”

As Anathema began to recite her vows, Crowley shot a glance over at Aziraphale. He was, unsurprisingly, misty eyed as he watched the wedding unfold. The sunset was breathtaking and lit up the couple as they both continued to smile at each other, exchanging their vows that recounted the chance meeting at the End of the World (as foretold by Agnes Nutter), and it clearly struck a chord with the angel. Distantly, near the front row, a middle aged woman was dabbing at her eyes and Crowley wondered if that was Newts own mother.

Newt finished his vows and then, after a brief pause added, “And thank you for being the first person to finally ask me about Dick Turpin.”

Anathema snorted at this, playfully swatting at Newts shoulder. “I’m sorry I even asked!” She laughed before taking his hand in hers, shaking her head at the ridiculous man she was marrying.

The demon felt his lips quirk up. He may not have known who or what Dick Turpin was, but he knew that he found that part of the vows the most touching. Moments like those reminded him of his angel and the various ways they’d try to drive the other crazy, all in good fun of course. He glanced over at said angel again to see he was chuckling lightly at the display as well.

Maybe there was still some way to salvage this day.

The woman up front (for the life of him, Crowley still couldn’t recall what her official title was) smiled fondly at the couple before clearing her throat again.

“Do you, Anathema Device take Newt Pulsifer to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“Against my better judgement, yes.”

“And do you, Newt Pulsifer take Anathema Device to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

The woman smiled, and as she announced the two married, Crowley slid his hand into his angels. He gave it a gentle squeeze, trying desperately to pour as much love into the action as he could, hoping he could in some way make up for how he had acted this far. And as the freshly married couple kissed, he felt the angel lift their joined hands to his lips, giving it a small kiss. Crowley chanced a final glance over to see a small, breathtaking smile on the angels face before he slid his hand free to join everyone else in clapping for the couple.

It took a few seconds for Crowley to join in, but he did.

 

 

The reception was, again according to Azairaphale, as wonderful as the wedding.

It was also held outside, the same white lights from the wedding hanging around on similar posts to light up the night for the guests. Tea lights were lit at every table, and in the middle was a floor laid out for dancing.

Crowley watched his angel delight in the fish they had chosen, insisting Crowley must try his. The demon had tried a bite or two and then pushed his plate over for the angel to finish. It was always more fun to watch him eat anyway.

“So,” Crowley said, glancing over at the newly wedded couple as they danced along with the Them on the dance floor, “about earlier…”

Aziraphale’s hand stilled for a moment as he lifted another bite to his mouth and then continued. He swallowed before saying attempting a nonchalant shrug.

“Nothing to talk about, my dear,” he said simply, not looking up from the fish.

“Actually, a lot to talk about, angel.”

Aziraphale sighed, but said nothing else

Crowley, to his credit, held back a snarl. He realized it was his fault this was whole misunderstanding was spiraling so fast, but the angel refusal to discuss it wasn’t helping. But the demon was determined to fix this.

The music shifted to a slow song then. Crowley looked over as the Them quickly evacuated the dance floor and couples began to trickle in.

Suddenly, a fresh plan in place, Crowley got to his feet and held out his hand to the angel, palm up.

Aziraphale regarded the hand with a raised brow as he set his fork down.

“May I have this dance, my angel?” Crowley asked. He was mustering up every ounce of ‘cool’ and ‘suaveness’ available to him, hoping the angel didn’t hear the light tremor in his voice.

A light blush crept up the Aziraphale’s face as his gaze flickered from Crowley’s hand to his face. Just as the demons confidence began to waver, the angel sheepishly murmured, “You know angels can’t dance, Crowley.”

“I know for a fact this one does. Besides, demons are all rubbish at dancing anyway.” He tried to deliver a reassuring smile as he continued to hold his hand out.

“I- I only know the gavotte.”

With a gentle voice and a patient smile Crowley whispered, “Come on, angel.”

Aziraphale gave an over dramatic sigh, as if to say If you insist, but couldn’t hide the delighted smile on his face as he slipped his hand into the other mans. Crowley pulled the angel to his feet, grinning now as he led them to the dance floor.

It was true, angels couldn’t dance and demons didn’t dance well, but in Crowley’s opinion you could hardly call the gentle swaying the humans were doing dancing. He was sure they could manage that at the very least.

Once on the dance floor, before Aziraphale could get cold feet, Crowley pivoted to face him and gently pulled him into his arms. He mimicked the humans, setting Aziraphale’s arms up to rest on his shoulders and sliding his own around his angels waist as he did his best to gently lead them. It took them both a second to find the rhythm, and to figure out how to not step on one another’s feet, but they managed. They joined the humans in gently swaying to the song that was playing, and when Aziraphale gave a contented sigh and let his head rest on his demons shoulder, Crowley decided he could do this for hours.

“See? I knew we could do it.” He whispered to his angel, placing a small kiss on his head.

He felt Aziraphales smile against his neck and his breath tickled as he murmured back, “Yes, I suppose this is rather easy. Certainly not quite as hard to master as the gavotte.”

The demon chuckled at that, and let them quietly sway, relishing the moment.

“At our wedding you’ll definitely do the gavotte, show everyone how it’s done.” Crowley said suddenly, laughing lightly at the mental picture of his angel performing the dance as Crowley attempted his own dance beside him. That would certainly be a sight, he’d have to get someone to record it.

It wasn’t until Crowley realized the angel was holding his breath that it clicked what he had said.

“I– I mean,” he stuttered. He hadn’t meant to blurt that out so suddenly.

Our wedding?” Aziraphale said, his voice practically a squeak. It was as if he thought if he said it too loudly the demon might flee.

“Well, yeah.” Crowley’s eyes darted around nervously, “I mean, if you even want that kind of thing. Just forget I said anything.”

Aziraphale lifted his head from Crowley’s shoulder, one hand sneaking up to snatch the sunglasses off his face. Crowley yelped out a surprised ‘Hey, what do you think you’re doing’, but the angel ignored him as he tucked the sunglasses into his own suit pocket.

Aziraphale,” Crowley hissed, eyes darting around again, this time worried someone would see him.

“Hush, no one’s paying us any mind, and I need to see you,” the angel said, reaching up to place a hand on his demons face, not breaking eye contact, “Now, look at me. I thought you didn’t like weddings.”

“I– It’s not that,” Crowley tried to look away, but felt Aziraphale lightly turn his head back to him. He sighed, relenting to the angel, and met his gaze again. “I don’t have a problem with weddings, Aziraphale. Love ‘em, big fan. Humans bringing the law into their relationship? An amazingly stupid idea, I have no complaints.”

Aziraphale laughed at this, but his face grew serious again after a moment.

“Then what on Earth has been troubling you?” He whispered, thumb lightly stroking his demons cheek as he searched his eyes for an answer.

“I don’t know, okay? You’ve just. You. Ugh,” Crowley shut his eyes, leaning lightly into the angels touch, “it’s stupid. You have all these friends, and I guess I was...I don’t know, it made me feel left out. I haven’t spoken with anyone. I feel out of place. I feel like I’m not enjoyable to be around, and who would want to be around that. It’s ridiculous, and I know that, so that just made me more frustrated and so I guess it just made me lash out. Okay? Happy?”

He opened his eyes to see a slightly shocked expression on his angels face.

“Like I said, it’s stupid,” he grumbled.

“Oh, Crowley, my dear,” Aziraphale’s expression shifted to gentle smile, “I’m sorry you feel that way. Truly.”

“S’not a big deal.”

Aziraphale shook his head, “No, don’t belittle your own feelings.” He continued to lightly stroke his demons cheek, a determined look in his eye. “I’ll include you in the phone calls, darling, I honestly never considered you’d want that. I’ll help you feel less awkward. And, Crowley, I know you know this. You must. But you’re my favorite person to be around, even if you do drive far too fast. Even if your version of fun is glueing spare change to the sidewalk. Anyone who can’t see how enjoyable you are is a fool.” His hand slid from Crowley’s cheek to behind his ear as he brought the mans face down to his own. He kissed him then, softly. It was tender and loving, and Crowley couldn’t stop the small contented sigh that slipped out of him. When his angel pulled away, he was smiling at him, eyes as misty as they had been during the wedding.

“Now,” he said, pulling the sunglasses out of his pocket and sliding them back onto his beloved's face, “tell me more about our wedding.”

Chapter Text

Two weeks had passed since the wedding, and both angel and demon were unsure how to move forward. It was out now, they both understood that one another was open to marriage, but now they were left with a lingering question.

How to propose? And who was going to do it?

For Crowley, he was on the fence about whether or not he should be the one to step forward and do it. The angel had made quite a fuss when it came to asking to move in together, and Crowley didn’t want a repeat of that whole scenario. But he was also getting antsy. Once the idea of being married to his angel slithered into his head, of sliding a ring on his finger and getting to call the man ‘husband’, he realized how badly he wanted it.

Aziraphale was more or less in the same boat, just a couple streams down. After the whole misunderstanding had been cleared up there was still a small part of him that was worried he might be going a little too, well, fast. Another, larger part worried that he might be stepping on the demons toes if he popped the question, so to speak, so he decided to wait. But he was also getting rather impatient. It had been 6000 years of waiting, after all. Surely it didn’t matter who asked who at this point?

So around roughly the same day and time (a Tuesday, to be precise, 3:25 pm for Crowley and 5 pm on the dot for the angel) each respective celestial being residing at A.Z. Fell & Co decided fuck it, they were going to propose. Crowley had reached the Fuck It Point when Aziraphale had wandered over to him and placed a chaste kiss on his cheek before slipping a freshly made whiskey into his palm. When the demon turned, gaze meeting Aziraphales precious smile, he made his decision.

The angel reached this point when he walked past an aisle and caught sight of Crowley, lounging on the couch in the bookshop, sprawled across it like he owned the place. His sunglasses were off, most likely hidden in a pocket, and when Crowley glanced over he gave a small wave and a lopsided smile. For some reason seeing his demon so at peace, so relaxed and at home and unhidden by his usual barriers made Aziraphale’s heart soar and set him on the path to a proposal as soon as possible.

The following day Aziraphale found himself in the bookshop on the phone with Anathema, checking to see that the demon wasn’t lurking anywhere before whispering into the phone.

“So, Anathema,” he began, doing his best to sound light and casual, “How precisely did your proposal go?”

The witch on the other end made a slight hm? noise, as if she didn’t understand the question.

“I mean to say, how did it happen? Who ‘popped the question’ as they say?”

“Oh!” Anathema said, understanding seeping in, “Oh, well, Newt just took me out to a rather nice dinner and when we were walking home he just sort of. Did it.”

This, for some reason, was not what Aziraphale was hoping to hear.

“Is it that easy?”

Anathema snorted into the phone, “Can I ask why you’re so curious?”

“We’re friends aren’t we? Can’t a friend ask how another’s proposal went and how they knew for sure it was the right time and what the best way to go about it is?”

A beat passed before Anathema sucked in a breath and whispered, “Are you planning on proposing? To Crowley?

“Keep it down!

She laughed at the angel, “Aziraphale, he can’t hear me, calm down. That’s actually rather sweet, do you have any ideas for proposing?”

Aziraphale sighed, checking over his shoulder again for any sight of Crowley, “Not exactly. Oh, you don’t think I’m moving too fast do you?”

“Haven’t you two known each other, and I still can’t believe I mean this literally, for 6000 years?” Anathema deadpanned. If Aziraphale was there he would have seen her give an eye roll that Crowley would have been proud of.

“That’s hardly the point. Time is different for us! But...I suppose you’re right.”

“Mmm, I often am. So, proposal ideas?”

“Well, I was thinking perhaps a picnic would be nice. I considered the Ritz, but I do so love the idea of it just being the two of us when it happens.” Aziraphale smiled fondly to himself, “Might hide it in his drink or something. I believe I’ve seen that in one of those romantic comedies you humans love.”

“Oh, Aziraphale, that sounds amazing.”

Aziraphale was actually quite proud of himself for the idea, even if he had absolutely stolen it from some movie or another.

“Yes, well, I am quite—“

“Who ya talking to, angel?”

The squeal that escaped Aziraphale was far from decent, and if truth be told, it was almost embarrassing. Certainly not the actions of a sophisticated angel such as himself. Doing his best to ignore the confused laughter coming from the phone, he looked behind himself to see Crowley, eyebrows raised at him as he leaned against a nearby bookshelf.

“Oh, hello there, dear!” Aziraphale did his best at sounding casual, but judging from the amused look on his demons face he wasn't exactly nailing it. “It’s Anathema—”

“Ah, Bookgirl!” Crowley nodded, “And how is she doing?”

Aziraphale ignored Anathemas baffled ‘Did he just call me Bookgirl’ as he held the phone out to Crowley.

“Why don't you ask her yourself?”

True to his word, the angel had been doing his best to include the demon in the conversations with their friends as of late. Crowley had been reluctant at first, insisting that he didn't know what he was supposed to even say to these people, but despite his complaints he had fallen into casual small talk rather easily. This didn't surprise the angel.

Crowley shrugged and took the phone from Aziraphale.

“Hey there, Bookgirl,” he drawled into the phone, sliding into the seat at Aziraphale's desk. He glanced up at Aziraphale but was surprised to find that the angel had dashed off as soon as the demon had looked away.

“Hello, BentleyBoy,” Anathema snorted, “You do know my name right? Like, you do realize you were at my wedding?”

“Speaking of weddings,” Crowley said, ignoring Anathemas questions and dropping his voice to a whisper, “I need to talk to you about that.”

On the other end of the phone Anathemas mouth quirked into an amused, all knowing smile. She didn’t need a prophecy to see where this train of thought was heading.

“Oh? What about?”

Crowley double checked that the angel was truly gone before continuing.

“How the Heaven did you propose? Or was it that Newt man who did it? I need information.”

Anathema did her best to bite back a laugh as she essentially repeated a conversation she had just had not two minutes ago.

Crowley sat and listened to Anthema explain the dinner and how Newt had proposed before snorting into the phone, “It's that easy, huh?”

“Good Lord,” Anathema muttered. “Yes, Crowley, it's that easy. Did you have any grand ideas for a gesture?”

“Well,” Crowley drummed his fingers on the desk table, “I had considered the Ritz, but if I'm being honest I sort of wanted to have it be more...private.”

Anathema bit her lip, stifling another laugh before asking, “Like a picnic?”

“Yes! Exactly! Clever girl, you are.”

“I think a picnic would be perfect, Crowley, you should absolutely do that. As soon as possible. Next available picnic you should definitely ask.”

Obviously, I've waited 6000 years, I think this is long overdue.”

“My thoughts exactly.

Crowley heard movement ahead and then the sound of Aziraphale descending the stairs back into the bookshop.

“Thanks much, I gotta get a wiggle on, as the angel says. Talk to you soon, Anathema!” And slammed the phone down before Anathema could return a proper goodbye.

“Well then, guess he does know my name,” she murmured, setting her cell phone down and then erupted into a fit of laughter.

Newt looked up from his lunch at the kitchen table, eyes narrowed in confusion.

“What was all that about?”

“Oh, Newt,” Anathema said as she got a grip on her laughter, “You're going to love this.”

The next day the angel awoke with a clear plan of action. He quickly slid out of bed, off to the kitchen to prepare the coffee as per usual. As the coffee began to brew he bustled about the small apartment, fishing out the picnic basket he had bought from a nearby shop. He filled the basket with small sandwiches and the pasta salad that he had made the night before after the demon had fallen asleep. Aziraphale didn’t make food often, but the recipe for the pasta salad had been easy enough to understand, and it was fairly hard to mess up sandwiches.

As he slid two champagne glasses into the basket he heard the sound of footsteps exiting the bedroom and then felt an arm sliding around his waist and a small kiss placed upon his temple.

“G’mornin’ angel,” drawled Crowley, still groggy from waking up, “whatcha got there?”

“Well, I heard today’s weather was exceptional and thought perhaps a picnic might be nice?” Aziraphale asked, beaming up at his demon, hoping he sounded nonchalant.

Crowley slid his arm from the angels waist so he could pour himself a cup of coffee. He let out a content, happy hum as he took a small sip before answering Aziraphale.

“Sounds rather splendid, angel, I believe I know just the place.”

Aziraphale was going to suggest they go to St. James Park, but didn’t want to seem pushy. He didn’t want to be obvious after all.

“Oh, wherever you want to go, my dear!” The angel smiled again. It didn’t really matter where, he figured, so long as they were together.

Crowley smiled back at him from over his coffee. He wasn’t wearing his sunglasses, and Aziraphale could see the slight crinkle in his eyes from the grin.

“I’ll just finish my coffee and get dressed, and perhaps swing by the bakery down the street for dessert? Ready in half an hour at the most?”

“I’ll finish getting the basket ready!” Aziraphale was beaming.

The two then split off to finish getting ready for their respective proposals, both feeling fairly cocky.

This is going to be easier than I thought, ran through the both of their heads.

Somewhere, in the afterlife, Agnes Nutters spirit was laughing.

Crowley could hardly believe his luck when the angel had offered up the picnic. He had been struggling with a way to casually offer such a thing, feeling as if the angel might get put on alert if the demon had suggested it. But now the angel had essentially set the stage for him. All Crowley had to do was deliver.

The two were in the Bentley, Crowley naturally at the wheel, and Aziraphale clutching the basket with one hand as the other held onto the car door. Crowley sped through the London traffic, avoiding pedestrians and other vehicles on the road that were driving far too slow. Aziraphale occasionally yelped, shouting for Crowley to Watch out for the love of God Crowley it’s not like they could be late for a picnic. Crowley would either chuckle or insist that they could in fact be late for a picnic if they arrived by night time, couldn’t they, angel?

Once they were out of London though and had reached a more rural looking sort of area, Crowley’s driving felt less erratic. Aziraphale let out a small sigh of relief, shifting from holding on for dear life to just holding on for comfort. He watched as the countryside flew by him, smiling serenely to himself. After a moment he felt something on his knee and looked down to see that his demon had placed a hand there, palm up.

The angel smiled, fondness evident in his gaze as he slid his hand from the picnic basket and into Crowley’s hand to give a gentle squeeze. Little acts like this came so naturally to them nowadays. He marveled at how far they had come from secret meetings, unable to even share the same bus seat. But now, when dining out, Crowley would let his hand rest on the table of whatever cafe or restaurant they had chosen, palm up expectantly waiting for his angels own hand. There was a particular time at a small bistro where Crowley had even let his thumb run lazily along Aziraphales knuckle as he listened to the angel go on about some book he had acquired.

That had been a lovely day.

“So, where are we going, my dear?” Aziraphale asked, shaking himself free of his thoughts. Not that they were bad thoughts, obviously, but he wanted to be here in the moment with his demon today.

Crowley’s thumb traced light patterns over the back of his angels hand as he responded with a simple, “It's a surprise.”

And then, after a moment of consideration.

“But you’ll most likely figure it out before we get there.”

The demon ended up being right about that. The scenery began to fade into a familiar setting as Aziraphale gazed out the window, turning to Crowley with raised eyebrows.

“Are we going to Tadfield?

“Good eye, angel!” Crowley laughed as they crossed into Tadfield. There was a park in the small town that Anathema had told him about when he called back after the initial phone conversation with her. The demon had been at a loss as to where exactly a ‘romantic’ location was in Tadfield of all places, and needed help. This was where he and Aziraphale had managed to save the world, even if they had done a rather messy job of it, they had still managed. It was where the first day of the rest of their lives began, and it was where he wanted to propose.

And he swore to Anathema if she repeated any of that to a soul he would plague her house with an ant infestation until the end of time.

Parking the Bentley, he lifted their still clasped hands to his lips, pressing a small kiss to the angels hand before exiting the car. He assured the angel that their destination was a short walk away as he held the door open for him. Aziraphale simply smiled, sliding his hand into the demons as they made their way towards a small hill with a tree atop it, lending them both the perfect amount of shade from the sun.

Crowley spread the blanket out and sprawled himself on it as Aziraphale took a proper seat next to him. The demon, much to Aziraphale’s delight, took his sunglasses off and slipped them into his pocket. The angel pulled out the small lunch he had prepared, suddenly worried Crowley wouldn’t be all that impressed with his pasta salad.

“It’s not as if it’s The Ritz,” Aziraphale said with a small, nervous flourish of the hand, “but hopefully it will suffice.”

Crowley snorted, picking up the fork Aziraphale offered him.

“If you made it I’m sure I’ll love it as much as the coffee you make me everyday,” Crowley said, stabbing a forkful of pasta salad.

Aziraphale rolled his eyes at that, “Now I know you’re just being kind, that coffee is nothing special.”

“It is too,” Crowley almost snapped, but managed to keep his tone soft, “I can never tell if you just miracle the coffee that good or if it’s because you made it, but I’m beginning to believe it’s the latter.” He became a bit quieter, sheepishly looking away as he said, “I love everything you do.”

Aziraphale tried to hide the red creeping up his cheeks by taking a bite of a sandwich, but he could feel Crowley’s eyes back on him. Before the angel could discorporate on the spot the demon took a bite of the pasta salad and his eyes lit up.

“Just as I thought,” he said, smiling, “perfection.

Aziraphale wasn’t sure how to respond, so instead he continued to eat his sandwich.

“I love making coffee in the morning for you,” he blurted out suddenly.

Crowley was shoveling another bite of pasta salad in his mouth when the angel said this. He swallowed before smiling at him.

“And I love waking up to it, angel.”

“I- I know. That’s one of the reasons I love making it. I don’t even really drink it, you know.” Aziraphale wasn’t entirely sure what his point was, but he was searching for it. “I just love when I wake up in the morning to see your face and I know if I make coffee you’ll be up soon and I’ll be able to talk to you even sooner. And I,” he took a bite of his sandwich then, thinking before he finished this thought out loud and then saying simply, “and I do so love to see you happy and know I’m the reason. I suppose those are all fairly selfish reasons, aren’t they?”

Crowley chuckled at that, setting the pasta salad down and picking up his own sandwich from its spot on the blanket, “That’s perfectly fine, angel. It’s okay to be selfish every now and then. I like when you’re a little selfish. Like when you’re really enjoying a good crepe or pastry. It’s always so satisfying to see you enjoying little pleasures like that for yourself.”

Aziraphale felt himself blush again.

“Oh, and I absolutely love that,” Crowley murmured, reaching up to cup the angels cheek, stroking his thumb along the red that was tinting his face, “that is a beautiful sight.”

Aziraphale, realizing he was quickly losing the upper hand in the conversation, tried to regain his composure. Crowley was always so much better at this romance business, which was normally very nice but not when the angel was trying to propose.

The demon let his hand fall away to snatch his sandwich that Aziraphale had prepared back up, taking a bite out of it.

While Aziraphale was slightly losing his mind over whether or not to just do it to just ask the question get out the champagne Crowley was doing his best to seem casual. To act as if he didn’t have a ring in one of his pockets, practically bursting at the idea of finally asking his angel to marry him.

He just needed the angel to be distracted for a second but he wouldn’t stop glancing over at the demon every few seconds, nervousness practically painted on his face.

Did he know what Crowley was up to?

To any outside observer it would seem obvious that both parties were insanely twitchy, on the edge of the picnic blanket, so to speak, about what to do next. But to the two on said blanket all they seemed aware of was whether or not the other man was onto them.

An outside observer would call these two ‘absolute fools’ but that wasn’t the point right now.

Finally, Aziraphale finished his sandwich and figured it was basically now or never.

“I brought champagne!” He said, excitedly, as he clasped his hands together. “Care for a toast, my dear?”

Crowley sensed his opening to sneak the ring out was practically in his grasp.

“Like you even have to ask, angel. I believe dessert would go well with the champagne, don’t you?”

Aziraphale nodded as he beamed at the demon before turning his back to him. He extracted a bottle of champagne (that was miraculously still just the right temperature) and two small flutes from the basket. He set to preparing the drinks.

Behind him Crowley opened the small pastry box he had brought with them, carefully setting the raspberry tarts on two small plates. Checking to be sure the angel wasn’t looking (which he wasn’t, oddly enough he seemed very focused on the champagne), he carefully removed the ring from his pocket and placed it gently on the top of one of the pastries.

Meanwhile Aziraphale slipped a ring into a glass, carefully pouring the champagne and hoping that Crowley hadn’t heard the small clink of the ring sliding to the bottom.

The two turned to face each other at roughly the same moment. Crowley gently slid the pastry in front of his angel and took the champagne glass with a fairly smug grin.

“To us?” Aziraphale offered, with that soft, beautiful smile on his face.

“To us,” Crowley confirmed, his smug expression shifting to a gentler smile as they gently clinked their glasses and took a sip.

Just as Crowley began to drink his, and suddenly caught eye of something at the bottom of his glass, a small glint of light coming off the pastry tart caught the angels attention.

“Oh good Lord–“

“What in Heaven–“

Both men stopped, stunned, as they looked at their own respective rings. One, sitting innocently at the bottom of a champagne glass, the other resting atop a delicious pastry.

Both men briefly sputtered.

Crowley then immediately downed his champagne and snatched the ring out from the bottom of the glass. It was a silver ring crafted in the form of a coiled up snake and two small rubies for eyes.

Aziraphale merely carefully plucked his ring from the pastry, jaw slightly slack at the sight of it. His ring was less flashy with a simple golden band with angel wings etched in.

Both men’s brains took a second to catch up to the events, and then as if the reset button had been smacked, they snapped to attention.

“Will you mar–“

“Angel, will you do me the honor–“

“Now wait a minute, I started first!”

The honor of marrying–“

“Crowley, will you marry me?!”

The demons mouth snapped shut as he looked from ring to angel and then from angel to ring. And then, after slipping the ring on so he could fully admire it, he threw his head back in a delighted laugh, unable to handle how absolutely ridiculous this all was. It was just like him and the angel to do something like this simultaneously. Despite their differences the two were always truly in sync, at least for the things that truly mattered.

“What on Earth is so funmmff!” Aziraphale’s question was interrupted by Crowley’s sudden grip on his lapels, yanking him forward to crash their lips together. Aziraphale sighed against his demons lips, letting the hand that wasn’t still clutching the ring slide up to rest on the demons cheek.

Crowley pulled away, lips barely a centimeter from the angels as he panted slightly. He regained his composure and pressed a kiss to the angels lips and then another one for good measure.

“So,” Aziraphale murmured between kisses, laughter on the tip of his tongue, “I take it that’s a yes from you?”

“Don’t ask such stupid questions, my angel,” Crowley breathed, tilting his head to press a kiss to Aziraphale’s neck, “but oh Heaven, yes, Aziraphale. Undoubtedly yes.” He nipped lightly at the angels neck, smirking at the slight hitch in breathing it caused him, “And you?” He asked this, deftly plucking the ring out of the angels hand.

“Wh-What about me?” Aziraphale said, dazed, as Crowley lightly pushed him onto his back.

The demon hovered over the angel, smirking down at him.

“Marry me, yes or no?”

“A thousand times, yes,” Aziraphale whispered, both hands sliding into the man's hair to pull him down for another kiss. Crowley let a noise slip out in response, something between a whine and a happy sigh, before taking one of Aziraphale’s own hands out of his hair to slip the ring onto a perfectly manicured finger. He lifted said hand to his lips then, pressing a light kiss to the ring. His eyes made contact with his angels as he turned the hand he held over so he could then press another kiss to his wrist, followed by a small nip.

Aziraphale’s breath caught in his throat. He tightened his grip that was still tangled in Crowley’s locks, pulling him down to crash their lips together again, delighting in the groan this drew from the demon. Crowley ran his tongue along his angels bottom lip, smirking when Aziraphale’s lips parted, tentatively meeting the demons tongue with his own, his grip becoming tighter in his hair.

Crowley groaned again at the contact, grinding his hips down to meet Aziraphale’s, drawing out a shocked gasp from the angel. His head fell back at the sensation, lips parted. Crowley seized the opportunity to take the angels bottom lip between his teeth, pulling lightly as a small moan slipped out of Aziraphale.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale groaned, hands sliding from his hair to lightly rest on his shoulders. He wasn’t pushing him away, just attempting to keep him still as he tried to collect his thoughts. Swallowing, doing his best to sound stern, he said, “Not that I’m not enjoying myself, but we are in public, dear.”

The demon hummed in response, trailing a line of kisses from his angels mouth to his neck, noting that the angel wasn’t exactly stopping him.

“I don’t see anyone around, angel, do you?” He whispered into his ear before nipping at his earlobe.

“Someone could– ah! People could easily show up.

Mmm,” Crowley hummed again, continuing to lightly nip and kiss down Aziraphale’s neck, smiling at the way the angel gasped and squirmed, “You know, miraculously, I don't think that’s gonna happen.”

He felt Aziraphale grip his jacket where his hands lay at the shoulders, lightly tugging until the other man got the hint to turn his own face. He kissed his angel, slow and languid, wanting to savor every instance of the moment. Aziraphale responded in kind, sighing sweetly as his demon trailed feather light touches down his side with one hand, the other hand keeping the demon propped up above Aziraphale.

“I’m not hearing a no, angel,” Crowley breathed against his lips. He slipped one hand underneath the angels shirt, fingers grazing skin.

Aziraphale shuddered.

“The car,” he gasped when Crowley’s slim fingers ghosted over a nipple.

Crowley's eyebrows shot up before his face smoothed into a knowing smirk.

“Sorry, what was that?” He asked, knowing full well what had been said. He circled the angels nipple with his finger and kissed the corner of his mouth.

Aziraphale thought he might discorporate.

“The car, dear, I know you heard me,” Aziraphale said, followed by a needy whine that had Crowley’s head spinning. Absently, as the angel took to pressing insistent kisses to the demons jaw, Crowley dredged up as much effort as he could to deliver a quick miracle. The scenery changed then, the feeling of resting against a thin blanket atop the soft grass was gone and replaced with the leather seats of the Bentley. Aziraphale blinked, taking in the sudden change, momentarily forgetting himself.

“Oh, the tarts,” he murmured, disappointment clear in his eyes.

Crowley snorted at this, moving in to kiss his angels temple.

“Don’t fret, angel, I obviously remembered the tarts.” Another kiss, this time on a cheek. “They’re safe and sound.” Another one, lips ghosting over the angels jaw. “Just like us.”

Aziraphale laughed lightly, hands coming up to cup Crowley's jaw, holding him still to look at his lips, at his face, into his eyes. The serpent eyes gazed back at him, occasionally darting away only to return a moment later.

What?” Crowley asked, exasperated.

“Oh, nothing, my dear,” Aziraphale murmured, pulling Crowley in to press his own kiss to the demons cheek. “I just wanted to look at you. You’re just so beautiful,” he leaned in, lips centimeters from his demons ear, “Especially like this.”

Crowley whined, wishing he could have held it back but thoroughly unable to do so when Aziraphale was saying things like that.

“Aziraphale.”

“Yes, my dear?” Aziraphale breathed, tongue darting out to taste the juncture where Crowley's jaw met neck.

Words were becoming increasingly difficult and, quite frankly, a waste of Crowley’s time at the moment. Instead he opted to paw at the angels coat and the rest of his stuffy clothes. He captured the angels lips again in a kiss, this one more desperate now, more heated than before as he squirmed against the angels hips.

Both men made a respective noise at that; Crowley with a hiss, and Aziraphale with a high pitched moan.

The angel finally obliged the demons desperate clawing, lifting his back up enough off of the backseat to let his coat be pushed off. Before Aziraphale could make a move to remove his bow tie, Crowley's teeth were there and lightly pulling the bow tie off with one fluid tug.

“You miracled that,” Aziraphale gasped.

Crowley smirked at the angel, teeth still clutching the bow tie, now just a long, untied mess and - God help Aziraphale - the demon was intoxicating like this.

“I didn’t miracle anything, angel,” Crowley assured him, taking hold of the bow tie with two fingers, letting it drop to the floor of the car, “Would I lie to you?”

Now, finding himself to be the one at a loss for words, Aziraphale merely shook his head no.

Crowley's look softened, a genuine smile now gracing his face.

“Good,” he breathed, before returning to his work of ridding Aziraphale of his many many layers of clothes. Normally he would get impatient and just miracle the damn things away, but couldn’t bring himself to do it this time. If he thought about it long enough he would realize that it was because, maybe, this was a special occasion.

Although the chances of him admitting that were slim to none, at least for now.

Finally, waistcoat open and button up shirt pushed aside, the demon ran his hands over the angels bare chest. He practically purred at the moan the angel gave him when the demon ran a light touch across his nipple. Aziraphale squirmed beneath him, now being the one to tug and pull at Crowley's own clothes.

“Off with this, my dear, if you’d be so kind,” he huffed, sitting up slightly so he could push Crowley's jacket to the floor of the car and immediately yanked the shirt off over his head. Aziraphale, wrapping one arm around the demons waist, dove forward to flick his tongue out at Crowley's now exposed nipple. He pressed open mouthed kisses to his chest, biting down lightly every so often, using his free hand to unbutton Crowley’s pants. The demons arms were resting lightly on Aziraphale’s shoulders, loosely wrapped around with his wrists crossed as he made small, breathy noises in response to Aziraphale’s touches, to his mouth leaving possessive marks against his chest.

“Angel,” he moaned, breath catching in his throat when said angel slipped his hands inside Crowley’s pants, running his finger along his length.

“Yes, dear?” Aziraphale murmured in a teasing voice against his neck, pressing a kiss there. He slid his hand to wrap around Crowley’s cock through his boxers, laughing a tinkling laugh at the hiss this caused. "What is it?"

“You know precisely what, angel,” Crowley hissed, head falling back as Aziraphale peppered his neck and collarbone in kisses and squeezed at his length.

Aziraphale did know precisely what, but it was still fun to tease. But Crowley’s hands were gripping at his hair now, yanking him up into a heated kiss full of tongue and passion and sweet moans that had Aziraphale feeling just as impatient as the demon in his hand. He grabbed hold of his demons pants, lightly tugging at them.

“It’s a bit cramped in here,” he noted as Crowley attempted to help Aziraphale, trying his best to wiggle free of the tight pants constricting him.

You’re the one who suggested the car,” Crowley laughed, sliding his pants down, less gracefully than usual, “We had plenty of room on the blanket.”

“Shush,” Aziraphale said, trying to sound stern. The effect was lessened by his smile though, reaching forward to help Crowley discard the pants. The demon looked down at his underwear, huffed out an impatient sigh, and miracled them away much to Aziraphale’s amusement. Before the angel could chastise him for his impatience though, Crowley was on him again, hands roaming over his chest, and lips moving along his jaw.

The angel slipped his hands between his demons legs, taking hold of him, finally, without any clothing in the way. Crowley shuddered, breath hot against his angels jaw. He could feel the cold metal of the engagement ring on his finger, wrapped around his cock, and it pulled a low moan from him. Aziraphale tangled his free hand in the demon's hair, guiding him back to his lips as he continued to stroke him. He swallowed the noises that were escaping Crowley, slipping his tongue inside of the open, panting mouth.

“Angel,” Crowley whined against his lips, reaching down to yank at the angels belt, “I need you inside me yesterday and that doesn’t seem doable with your blasted clothes on.”

Mmm, yes, we’ll have to try that another time,” he murmured as Crowley began work on undoing the angels belt. Crowley tried to hide the shiver that statement caused. Aziraphale gasped, relief washing over him as Crowley freed his cock from the confines of his boxers, the pants laying pushed down around his knees.

Crowley wrapped his own hand around his angels length now, and Aziraphale shivered, now the one aware of the feeling of the ring against him. He sucked in a breath, sliding his hand from Crowley's hair to slip around the backside, miracling his fingers so they were slick.

At the feeling of his angels fingers circling his entrance, the demon groaned, moving back against them, signaling to Aziraphale that god yes, please he was ready. Aziraphale slipped a finger inside and Crowley's head fell back once again, a needy moan echoing in the confines of the Bentley.

It was cramped inside the car, but perfect. Crowley moving against the angels fingers, too lost in the feeling of being worked open to be embarrassed of the noises he was making. Aziraphale was murmuring against his ear how beautiful how perfect and sublime he looked like this, and Crowley thought he would climax then and there.

The angel, feeling how much his demon was shaking, slipped his fingers free with a small whispered, “Ready, dear?

Crowley gasped, “Yes, for the love of Hell, yes.

Aziraphale lined himself up then, groaning as Crowley slid down on top of him, hissing as he did so.

“You feel exquisite,” Aziraphale breathed, hands running up Crowley's thighs to rest on his hips.

Crowley laughed, a breathless laugh.

“Says you, angel.”

And then he began to move, one hand grasping the back of the car seat, the other splayed out on his angels chest. One leg was kneeling, pressed between Aziraphale's side and the backseat while his other leg hung off the seat, foot resting on the car floor. Despite the tight confines of the car the two found a rhythm. They always could find a way when necessary; be it stopping the Not Quite Apocalypse or making love in the back of a car, they would find a way to make it work.

Aziraphale’s fingers dug into Crowley's hips as the demon picked up the pace. He continued to breathe out light praises, not taking his eyes off the man above him. Crowley’s eyes were squeezed shut as he rode his angel, mouth falling open in desperate whines and the occasional insistent Angel, please at the praises. He still found it hard to handle, a hard pill to swallow. It left him feeling more vulnerable, even more so than the act of riding him. He was exposed, sure, but Heaven help him it was hard to not deflect words like perfect and exquisite. The angel was aware of this. And, unbeknownst to the demon above him, he had made it a personal mission to get Crowley comfortable with it all, to finally accept that yes he was in fact perfect and everything the angel could ask for. For goodness sake, they were engaged now.

Aziraphale’s hands moved suddenly, one arm wrapping around the demons waist, the other reaching up for his face. The angel had almost forgotten. Engaged. They were going to get married, and it all felt so domestic, so comically human.

He pulled his demon against his chest, his free hand finally finding its place a top Crowley’s cheek. And then, Crowley secured against him, Aziraphale snapped his hips up to hit that spot that he knew left his love boneless. Crowley gasped, trying to hide himself in the crook of Aziraphale’s neck, but the angel wouldn't have it.

“No,” he said, not letting up, “look at me, darling.”

Crowley whined out a desperate, “Angel,” but he relented, letting his face be pulled away from the angels neck to look in his eyes. The angel breathed out a content sigh, his hold around Crowley’s waist tightening.

Beautiful,” Aziraphale whispered, slipping the hand on the cheek away to slide between them to wrap around his beloved's cock again, “Say it again, love, say you’ll marry me.”

“Ang— Aziraphale, fuck, I’ll marry you n- now. Here, in this car, I would have married you on the wall of Eden please,” Crowley could feel himself unraveling, doing his best to keep his eyes open, letting his angel watch him fall apart.

Aziraphale groaned at Crowley’s words, at the love and desperation clear as day in his eyes.

“Angel,” Crowley whined, “angel, I’m gonna-”

“I know,” Aziraphale gasped, “I know, darling.” With a quick thrust of the hips and a small gasp he said, “I love you, I love you, dearest.”

Crowley lost it then, a needy, love filled whine escaping him. He wanted to look away, but let his angel watch him, let him see how undone he made him as he came over his chest and hand. At the sight and feeling of his demon, so spent and gorgeous, the angel followed him through the climax. He was idly aware of Crowley gasping small I love you, I love you’s as he littered his face in kisses, helping his angel ride through his orgasm.

As the two let their breathing slow, Crowley miracled away the mess and rested his face on his angels chest. The angel carded his fingers through his demons hair before gently taking hold of his cheek again to guide him up for a soft kiss. When he released him from his grasp, he watched as the demon lazily snapped his fingers. The small pastry box appeared in his hand and Aziraphales lit up as he reached inside to withdraw a tart.

Crowley let the angel wiggle out from under him to settle more comfortably into a sitting position before curling up to rest his head on soft, welcoming thighs. Aziraphale gazed down at him fondly as he took a bite of the tart. It was scrumptious and the angel let out a contented noise as he let his unoccupied hand drop down to run fingers through the demon’s hair once more.

“So,” Crowley said, turning slightly so he could look up at the angel as he flashed a coy smile, reaching up to stroke Aziraphale’s cheek, “when’s the wedding?”

Chapter Text

“I’m sorry, come again?”

The freshly engaged demon and angel were seated on their couch, each clutching a glass of red wine. The couch was, of course, tartan. Crowley may have had the better bed of the two, but Aziraphale had insisted his couch was the superior one (and it was, comfort wise, style, not so much). They were discussing plans for the wedding, and Crowley had just blindsided Aziraphale with a strange request.

“I said,” Crowley began, gesturing wildly with the hand holding the wine glass, too enthusiastic to notice the drops of wine that flew out, “that I want it to be at a church. I’m sure they have one in Tadfield somewhere? Though I do wonder if that one I got blown to bits back in the day ever got rebuilt.”

“Crowley, that’s absolutely asinine.”

“You’re probably right, I doubt they rebuilt it. Even if they did none of the human friends could probably afford that,” Crowley admitted somberly, taking a sip of his wine now.

“No, I mean, well yes you’re right about that, but that’s not what I mean,” Aziraphale said, “I’m talking about the fact that you, a bonafide demon, are telling me, your angel fiancé, that you want to get married in a church. You want to get married on consecrated ground.

“It’s traditional!” Crowley said with another overzealous flourish of the wine glass, “You love tradition! What’s wrong with being traditional?”

“You know very well that’s not what I’m concerned about.”

Crowley sipped his wine, glaring at the angel over the rim of the glass. His sunglasses were lying folded up on the coffee table, giving Aziraphale a clear view to witness the full effect of the glare. Not that the demon ever had any trouble expressing that particular expression with the sunglasses on.

“Why can’t I get married in a church?” Crowley said this in the same tone as a child being informed they couldn’t have a second candy bar.

“Because the ground burns your feet, dear. I don’t understand why I have to explain this to you. What was it you said all those years ago?” Aziraphale took a thoughtful sip from his own glass. “Ah yes! Like ‘being on the beach in bare feet’, correct?”

Crowley huffed in response, still glaring.

“Besides, how on Earth would we even dance?”

“S’not like the receptions going to be in the blasted church, angel. Just the marriage! I can handle that, I— I’m tough.”

“No one’s saying you’re not tough, darling, I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I won’t get hurt, I was fine last time!”

Aziraphale gave him a level look as he finished his glass of wine. Crowley huffed again, sitting up from his lounging position to pick up the bottle of wine to refill his betrotheds glass. He topped off his own as well, emptying the bottle as he did so, before returning it to its place on the coffee table. With a heavy–some might say over dramatic–sigh, he resumed lounging against the couch stretching out one leg to rest across his angels lap. The angel gently rested a hand on the demon’s knee, flashing a just as gentle smile.

“Why is it so important to you, my dear?” Aziraphale asked quietly, stroking small circles on Crowley’s knee.

Crowley heaved another sigh, head falling to rest on the back of the couch. He was searching for a way to explain without sounding like a complete fool, but he was coming up short. And as soothing as his angels touch was, it was also distracting. After a moment he decided, fuck it, took a swig of his wine and met his angels patient gaze.

“Alright,” he murmured, cleared his throat, and then repeated louder this time, “Alright. I suppose I might want to get married there to sort of...stick it to them. Your fellow angels, I mean. And maybe Her,” he flitted his fingers vaguely skyward, “just a little bit, but mostly the angels. Self righteous pricks, I can practically see their heads exploding.”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale’s thumb stilled as his gaze shifted from patient to a more worried expression, “I thought the last thing we’d want to do is call attention to ourselves.”

“What are they going to do, angel?” Crowley snorted, “Show up on our wedding day? Cause a scene? Your lots terrified of you now, you’ll have to trust me on that, I can’t see them coming anywhere near you. At least not for a good while.”

“Maybe. Or maybe they take it as an insult, which it is, and they do in fact show up and ruin our day, quite possibly our entire lives. Does that really seem worth it?”

Crowley fell silent, returning his attention to his drink.

“I just want them to see that they can’t keep us apart,” Crowley said, almost so quietly the angel almost didn’t hear it. When Aziraphale looked back up at him the demon was gazing into his wine glass as if it was the most interesting thing in the room at the moment.

“Dearest,” Aziraphale breathed.

Crowley continued to feign being captivated with his wine.

Darling,” Aziraphale said more insistently, reaching across the couch, the tips of his fingers lightly turning his demon by the cheek to face him, “Crowley, of course they can’t keep us apart.”

“I- I know that,” Crowley whispered. He swallowed, trying to ignore the anxious feeling in his stomach as his eyes flickered from Aziraphale’s gaze to the wall. He let out a shaky breath and another quiet, “I know that.”

Do you?” Aziraphale asked, eyebrows furrowing together as he studied Crowley. The demon had a nervous look in his eyes, the anxiety evident in them. Without breaking eye contact he set the wine glass on the table, shifting to lean across the couch so he could lightly press his lips to his demons.

Crowley’s eyes fluttered shut at the contact, a soft sigh slipping out. Aziraphale cupped Crowley's jaw with both hands, thumbs stroking his cheek bones as he pulled away from his lips to press a soothing kiss to his forehead.

“Angel,” Crowley sighed as the angel rested their foreheads together, “M’sorry.”

“What on Earth for, my love?”

Crowley tilted his head, pressing a soft kiss to his angels lips, murmuring, “M’being stupid.”

Aziraphale’s hold on him became more firm, pulling the demon back so he could look into his serpent gaze again, a serious look in his eyes.

“Don’t talk about yourself like that, you’re not being stupid,” Aziraphale said, doing his best not to snap at the demon, “You’re being honest, it’s how you feel. I’m just,” the angel sighed, “I’m just trying to consider all the possibilities, I’m trying to make sure we don’t get in trouble.”

Crowley laughed at that, a soft chuckle, “You’ve been doing that since the beginning, ya know?”

“If I recall correctly you’re the one always attempting daring rescues.”

“I’ve just been saving you from humans ridiculous scenarios, angel. You’re the one who was sure to be careful and keep us off of our respective lots radars.” Crowley leaned forward again, miracling his own wine glass to the table, not wanting to break contact. He slid into Aziraphale’s lap, kissing his jaw, murmuring, “You were the one who kept us safe and able to keep actually seeing each other until we could finally just be. If it had been left up to me we probably would’ve been caught a long time ago.”

Aziraphale wrapped his arms around his demon, settling back into the couch as he was straddled, tilting his head back as Crowley’s lips trailed towards his neck.

“I suppose. I never really thought of it that way.”

“Course you didn’t,” Crowley laughed against his neck.

Reaching up, Aziraphale placed his hand on Crowley’s cheek, gently nudging him back so he could look into his eyes.

“You really want this?” He asked, thumb stroking the tattoo on Crowley’s temple, “The wedding in a church I mean?”

Crowley turned his face into Aziraphale’s palm and gave it a light kiss, whispering, “Yes, I do.” He turned, resting his cheek into the angels palm again, smiling. “But, I understand if you think it’s a bad idea.”

Aziraphale returned Crowley’s smile before pulling him forward into a kiss. Crowley was always the one going out of his way to get everything the angel wanted, always the one to show up with chocolates or pastries. Always the one to miracle away little stains and get him out of trouble. It only seemed fair to Aziraphale that Crowley get his way once in awhile.

Even if it was a ludicrous request.

He’d just have to find a way to make it work.

Aziraphale stared up at the architecture before him, lips pursed as he scrutinized every detail. Next to him stood Anathema who was glancing from the angel back to the church she had brought him to, eyebrows raised. She let about five minutes pass before finally prodding the man lightly with her finger to gain his attention.

“So…?” She asked him, “Will this do, or not? Do you want to go inside?”

He hummed thoughtfully in response, tapping his chin as he considered it.

“Or we could have the wedding literally anywhere else?” Anathema continued on, “You know, somewhere that won’t literally burn your fiance’s feet?”

Aziraphale, having enlisted Anathema’s help in locating a location for his wedding, had explained the whole ordeal to her. He had even regaled the tale of Crowley’s daring rescue in the church all those years ago. She had listened, enraptured by the story, as they walked to one of the churches she had discovered on one of her many bike rides through the town. Tadfield was a small town, but even small towns have more than one place of worship.

When Aziraphale had told her about the double crossing (or was it a triple crossing at that point?) she had let out a small gasp. When he got to the part where Crowley made his ever-so-graceful entrance she almost fell over laughing at the idea of him tap dancing his way down the aisle of the church to save the day.

Once she heard about the books, about how the angels heart had soared at the encounter, she regarded Aziraphale’s misty eyes at the memory, smiling at him with a small ‘oh’.

“He really is much kinder than he likes to let on, isn’t he?” She had asked, still smiling.

“Oh, yes, but don’t let him hear you say that,” Aziraphale had laughed, lightly wiping a small tear from the corner of his eye, “He won’t like that one bit.”

Anathema had said she understood Crowley’s insistence at wanting to seal the deal in a church, but she was still apprehensive about the whole thing.

It was nice to have someone else around with common sense.

Now, standing in front of the church, she looked even more unsure about the idea.

“He insisted,” Aziraphale said with a shrug as he made his way inside the church, “And I know if I tell him no he’ll submit, truly, but…”

“But you don’t want to do that?”

Aziraphale stopped just inside the entrance of the church and shook his head, “No, Anathema, my dear, I don’t. He’s done so much for me, even when I was so cruel to him he was still worried about me. I told him it was over once, when Armageddon was right around the corner. And I know that hurt him, I knew it as soon as the words left me,” he sighed heavily at the memory of that dreadful bandstand encounter, his mouth twisted in a frown, “But he came back, still asking me to run off to the stars with him. And then,” he laughed a bitter sounding laugh that made Anathema frown, “and then I denied him again. He threatened to leave after that one, rightfully so. But he still came back to me as soon as I asked. He didn’t even hesitate.”

Anathema placed a hand on the angels shoulder as he breathed in a shuddering breath.

“Aziraphale,” she said, quietly, “I’m sure he’s over to that.”

“Of course he is,” Aziraphale said quietly, “For a demon, he’s very forgiving.”

They stood there in silence for a moment, Anathema’s hand resting on his shoulder as the angel stared at the ground.

“Needless to say,” he said finally, looking up to meet Anathema’s eyes, “Crowley deserves this, and if this is all he wants for our wedding then I will find a way to accommodate him.”

“Well,” Anathema patted his shoulder before taking him by the arm to lead him further inside, “then let’s take a look around, hm? See if this church fits the requirements!”

Aziraphale smiled at the witch, quickly wiping away the tears at the corner of his eyes with his free hand and let himself be led inside.

The church was beautiful and simple, much like the town of Tadfield itself. Aziraphale was trying to sense how, well, holy it was. How much it might burn the demon to set foot inside.

The answer was hard to pinpoint.

Aziraphale knew his demon though, he knew he most likely wanted the nicest church available.

He lightly grazed his fingers along the back of the seats, looking around. It wasn’t too large, which was good. The two didn’t exactly have many people to invite, so it’d be almost silly to get a large establishment.

Aziraphale thought about Crowley, tried to picture him making his way down the aisle with a defiant grin on his face as he did so. The angel smiled fondly at the image, turning in a small circle as he took everything in.

“What do you think?” Anathema asked.

“I think this will do perfectly,” Aziraphale said with a smile, “He’s going to love it.”

“What are you doing out here?”

Crowley looked up from where he was lounging in the grass beneath a large tree to see the Antichrist himself looking down at him with a confused look. He was in the same suit he’d worn to Anathema and Newts wedding and not too far off behind him was Dog, oddly enough wearing a different bow tie than before. Crowley noticed that this one was tartan, which was a rather touching tribute to the angel, he figured. In the close distance, behind Adam, sat the church Aziraphale and Anathema had picked out for the wedding. The few guests they had invited were making their way inside.

“Oh, you know,” Crowley answered with a small shrug, “just waiting.”

“Okay,” Adam stepped forward to join the demon in the shade, “but why aren’t you waiting inside with everyone else?”

“I gotta make a grand entrance, obviously.”

Adam rolled his eyes at Crowley and Dog barked, causing Adam to glance over at the canine. He nodded in agreement and then turned back to Crowley.

“Dog says to fess up.”

Crowley snorted at that, but after a few moments of relentless staring from the boy in front of him, he sighed dramatically.

“It’s my wedding day, I should be allowed to sit wherever I see fit,” He said, glaring at Adam from behind his glasses, “But if you must know, I’m putting off being inside until it’s necessary.”

“Why?”

Kids.

“Because that’s consecrated ground in there, kid, and that stuff burns like Hell- er, Heaven I suppose, on a demon's feet. And I promised Aziraphale I would keep my injuries to a minimum. So,” he gestured to his spot on the grass, “here I wait. Besides, it’s bad luck to see your spouse on the wedding day, right?”

“That’s what my parents say,” Adam said, shrugging. His face twisted up into a perplexed look. “Wait, if the church hurts you then why get married here? Anathema didn’t get married in a church.”

“Yeah, well, Anathema didn’t have a point to prove to a group of asshole Angels,” Crowley grumbled.

“You’re trying to prove a point?” Adam asked, frowning.

“Kind of?” Crowley returned the frown, “I don’t know, okay? Aziraphale’s old lot was...is full of hypocritical jerks, and th- they tried to destroy us, you know? Well, him. Mine did too, of course, but his didn’t even feign a trial. They just lit the flames, told him to shut up and walk into the fire,” Crowley’s frown twisted into a snarl at the memory, at how smug and uncaring Gabriel had been. All because they couldn’t have their ridiculous war. They didn’t even try to make him Fall, just wanted to wipe his existence clean out of the universe.

It had taken every ounce of willpower in Crowley’s body not to lash out at them all.

“So this is like…” Adam searched for the words, “like a ‘take that’, kinda thing?”

“Something like that.”

Adam nodded, seeming to accept this answer.

Dog suddenly perked up, sniffing the air. A low growl emanated from his throat, catching both Antichrist and the demons attention, the latter climbing to his feet with a worried expression. He could feel the energy around them shifting and right where Dog was looking, growling his warning, a bolt of lightning struck the ground.

And then there stood archangel Gabriel, smug, self righteous look and all.

Crowley’s serpent eyes widened before narrowing at the sight of the archangel before muttering out a well deserved, “Well, fuck.

Aziraphale was going to be pissed.

Meanwhile, inside the church, Aziraphale was getting ready with the help of Madame Tracy and Anathema. Newt sat in the corner, idly watching out the window of the small room. Aziraphale adjusted his bow tie, idly glancing at the women behind him in the mirrors reflection. His suit jacket was hanging up still as he fiddled nervously with his outfit.

“Crowley’s finished getting ready?” He asked for the tenth time.

“Crowley has been ready, Aziraphale, don’t worry,” Anathema assured him, “I mean, mostly. Like I said the last nine times, he’s outside waiting. Once you’re all set I’m going to go check on him for any final touches he needs to add, but he’s essentially fully clothed, yes. Right, Newt?”

“Hm?” Newts head whipped around, “Oh, yes, I can see him from here, actually. He’s lounging by that tree. And it looks like Adam has joined him.”

Anathema gave Aziraphale a ‘so there’ look.

“Aziraphale, dear,” Madame Tracy said, ushering him to sit down, “Let me finish your hair, if you’d please.”

“My hair looks fine-”

The angels protests fell on deaf ears as the woman began tending to the curls, trying to get them to a more controlled state. The angels finicking had left him looking rather uncharacteristically disheveled. Anathema watched, amusement on her face, as the angel was fussed over.

And then, just as Aziraphale had almost calmed down, Newt let out a shocked yelp. Aziraphale felt a sudden change in the air and a loud crack outside that lit up the whole room. His head spun around, out of Madame Tracy's hands, to look at Newt who was out of his chair, staring out the small window in shock and mild horror.

“Newt?” Anathema took a step over, eyebrow raised, “Everything okay?”

“Did either you or Crowley happen to invite any of your uh,” Newt seemed to struggle to find the right words, “well, any of your older friends?”

Aziraphale was out of his chair, making his way over, “What do you mean?”

Anathema stepped in front of Aziraphale, hands up as she looked behind her shoulder to see what had Newt so disturbed.

“Oh no,” she murmured.

What?” Aziraphale asked, voice high and tense, “What is it? Is it one of those demons? I swear if Hastur is trying to start something-”

“It’s uh, it’s not one of Crowley’s. At least I don’t think so.” Newt admitted, “Looks an awful lot like that one man that appeared from your side actually, back on Armageddon Day.”

Before Anathema could stop the angel, he had bolted past her, whispering frantically to himself.

“Not Gabriel, anyone but Gabriel.”

“Aziraphale, wait!”

“Demon Crowley,” Gabriel greeted, eyeing him with a frown before taking notice of Adam, “Oh, and the failed Antichrist! Lovely, of course you’re here as well.”

Crowley glared at the angel before him, stepping forward so he was between Adam and the archangel, hands clenched at his sides.

“I gotta say, Gabriel, showing up uninvited to a wedding is pretty rude, especially for an angel.”

Gabriel barked out a laugh at that, shaking his head lightly.

“No, no, what’s rude is you and that traitor thinking you could desecrate such holy ground with...with whatever it is you think you’re doing here,” He gestured vaguely to the church behind him, “I had to see it for myself when word traveled around about this mockery. An angel and a demon, getting married on consecrated ground? Are you both insane? Did you think we wouldn’t notice?”

Crowley snorted, crossing his arms, “Didn’t really care if I’m being honest.”

Gabriel paused for a moment, the gears in his head turning before he asked suddenly, “And why exactly are you out here?”

“What?”

“You. Why are you out here and not in there?” Gabriel hooked his thumb at the church as his eyes narrowed suspiciously, “Afraid you’ll get burned, demon?”

Crowley snorted at that.

“I don’t know if you’ve heard, but that doesn't work on me anymore. I’ve gone native,” Crowley snapped, a smug expression on his face, “I could shower in holy water and be just fine, thanks for asking.”

Gabriel didn’t take his eyes off the demon, looking him up and down with a look that said he didn’t believe Crowley for a second.

“Then I ask you again, demon, why are you out here and not in there?”

Adam pushed past Crowley suddenly, snapping, “It’s his day, he doesn’t have to explain himself to you!”

Crowley’s lips quirked up in a small smile as he gently nudged Adam back behind him. Sometimes he forgot how stupendously brave the boy was.

“Exactly, thank you, Adam,” Crowley said, turning his attention back to Gabriel who was glowering at Adam, clearly annoyed with the outburst. “It is my day, and no one invited you. So how about you shut your stupid mouth and leave already.” Crowley delivered the same smug, uncaring smile he’d seen Gabriel give him when he tried to kill his angel.

Gabriel’s mouth fell open suddenly, a look of confusion and shock flashing across his face before settling on annoyed once again.

“An interesting choice of words,” he muttered darkly.

“Gabriel!”

The archangel turned around to see Aziraphale sprinting towards them, coming to a stop a few feet away from him. Crowley frowned at him.

“What are you doing out here, angel, we’re not supposed to see each other until the ceremony. It’s bad luck!”

Aziraphale skirted around Gabriel until he was next to his demon, shooting a glare at him.

“No, Crowley, what’s bad luck is the archangel Gabriel showing up announced,” he whispered, a note of fear in his voice.

“This guy?” Crowley pointed at Gabriel, rolling his eyes, “It’s no big deal. In fact, he was just leaving, weren’t ya Gabe?”

“Do not,” Gabriel snapped, “call me that unless you wish for me to smite you here and now.”

“Oh, I’d like to see you try.”

“Crowley, stop it!” Aziraphale swatted at his shoulder, “The last thing we need is you getting discorporated on our wedding day, my dear.”

Gabriel barked out a harsh laugh.

“Why, you really have gone soft!” He said, still laughing incredulously at the pair. Aziraphale winced slightly at the accusation as Crowley’s back straightened, his jaw set and his eyes narrowed. Gabriel paid them no mind as he continued on. “Or maybe you’ve just lost your mind? You know, Aziraphale, when Michael initially showed me the rather incriminating photos of you and this thing conversing—“

Aziraphale bristled at Gabriel’s choice of words, his hand reflexively reaching down to take hold of his beloved’s hand.

“Now, you see here–“

“I’m not finished–“

“Oh, I think you are quite finished!” Aziraphale snapped, causing even Crowley’s eyebrows to shoot up in shock at his tone. Even Adam, from his spot behind the two celestial beings raised his own eyebrows.

Gabriel meanwhile looked rather dumbfounded. He had never been talked to in such a way, especially when it came to Aziraphale. The principality had always seemed fairly submissive when taking orders from the archangel. He hadn’t even spoken like this as he betrayed all of Heaven. But now? Now was when he chose to raise his voice in such a way?

He didn’t understand. Quite frankly, he couldn’t understand. And how could he?

He’d never been in love.

“Aziraphale—“ He attempted once again, but was immediately silenced by an impatient wave of Aziraphale’s hand that was paired with a glare that shook even Crowley.

“No,” Aziraphale said, his fingers squeezing tighter at Crowley’s hand, only shaking ever so slightly with a mix of anger and slight fear, “absolutely not, I will not stand here and listen to you speak of him in such a way, and on our wedding day no less.” With another squeeze, Aziraphale slid his hand free of the demon’s, taking a step closer to Gabriel. “This man, this beautiful being that you dare to look down upon, has been kinder than you or any other Angel could ever dream to be. He cares more for this world, for the people, and for me,” his voice almost broke there, but he soldiered on, “He cares more than you could ever hope to.”

He took another step closer now, jabbing an accusatory finger at the archangel as he spoke, fury and absolute certainty in what he was saying evident in every word he spoke.

“You would be lucky, , you would be honored and blessed to have even a half or even a quarter of the love in Crowley’s heart, and you’re all too worried about trivial bullshit–

An offended gasp slipped out of Gabriel as Crowley’s eyebrows practically shot into his hairline. Adam merely chuckled at the curse word.

“–to even notice it. You can’t sense the good in him? The kindness? You can’t feel the love in him? It’s practically bursting!”

Angel,” Crowley hissed out, feeling himself flush.

“Not now, darling,” Aziraphale said quickly before turning his attention back to Gabriel, “No, Gabriel, you can’t feel the beauty of him or this world. None of you can. You’re all so caught up in who’s right and who’s wrong that you missed out on what matters. Now,” he said this with a harsh jab at Gabriel’s chest, “if you’ll excuse us, we have a wedding to get to and consecrated ground to defile!” He punctuated this by reaching back and grabbing hold of his dear demon’s hand, “You are excused archangel Gabriel.”

Gabriel was, to put it mildly, furious.

“I don’t know who you think you are,” He said, a dark tone in his voice. His eyes, bright with anger met Aziraphale’s own steady, stubborn gaze. Gabriel's hands were clenched into tight suddenly flowing fists as he spoke. “I’m not sure why our Lord hasn’t struck you down Herself yet. I can only assume it’s because disgusting creatures like you aren’t worth Her precious time, but don’t you worry, Aziraphale, I will see to it myself that you Fall—

Crowley practically lunged at the archangel at that word, a threat on the tip of his tongue and fury in the pit of his stomach.

But he was cut off by the Antichrist pushing his way past him and Aziraphale, Dog at his side, ready to defend.

“You do not belong here,” he said simply, in that same matter of fact tone he always seemed to say things, “You should be gone.”

Gabriel opened his mouth to respond. If he’d had a chance he would have opened his mouth to threaten Adam, actually, tired of this whole ordeal and these three particular people always ruining everything.

But before he could, he was gone.

Crowley’s jaw dropped before he whispered out a confused, “What the-”

“He’s gone?” Aziraphale murmured, gazing down at Adam in wonder.

Adam sighed, turning to face the two men.

“That guy was rude,” he said, frowning, “It was time for him to go.”

Crowley continued to gape like a fish out of water, but instead of struggling for air he was struggling for words for an understanding at what the fuck had just happened.

Aziraphale just laughed, releasing Crowley’s hand to pull the boy into a hug.

“Thank you, young man,” he said, “That might have been the best wedding gift I’ll receive all day. Now!” Aziraphale turned back to Crowley, who was still staring at the boy in shock, and took him by the arm. Crowley finally looked away from the boy who might have just saved their wedding to meet Aziraphale’s smiling face. Finally, his jaw shut, smiling softly back at his angel.

“Come on, angel,” He said, placing a gentle kiss on Aziraphale’s smiling lips (much to the embarrassment of poor Adam, who didn’t quite see the appeal in kissing yet and most likely wouldn’t for quite some time), “Let’s go get married, yeah?”

Chapter Text

There were a lot of things that Crowley had been nervous about in his long life. For instance, he had been nervous every time Aziraphale had gotten himself into some variation of trouble. He had even been nervous tempting Eve towards that first temptation, unsure if it was what he was supposed to do. He had been beyond nervous the first time he and his angel had finally gotten together properly and admitted their love to one another and every moment after that had felt like a turning point in their relationship had left him fairly anxiety ridden.

But he wasn’t sure he had ever been as nervous as this.

He was pacing back and forth outside the church doors, breathing uneven as he mentally prepared himself to go inside. Anathema was supposed to come get him when it was officially time to begin. The confrontation with Gabriel hadn’t unnerved him, why was this setting him off? It wasn’t as if the angel waiting inside was going to say no.

Crowley’s pacing came to a sudden halt.

Was he?

It was possible, Crowley realized in horror, that the appearance of Gabriel could have given the angel doubts. It could have reignited his fears that had held him back all those years.

Crowley let out an agitated whine.

Why did he have to demand it be in a church? It wouldn’t have mattered as long as they were together. But Crowley just had to make his point, didn’t he? Just had to waltz down the aisle in front of God and everyone.

When Anathema peeked her head out of the church doors she was met with the sight of a nerve wracked demon curled up on the ground in what more or less resembled a fetal position. She had never seen Crowley take up so little space.

“You okay over there?” She asked, stepping outside and shutting the doors behind her. It was clear to the witch that the demon before her was obviously not okay, but it seemed polite to ask.

“Tickety-boo,” Crowley grumbled bitterly, not looking up from the ground.

“Yeah, I, uh, don’t know what that means,” Anathema said with a raised eyebrow, “But I’m going to assume it means ‘absolutely dreadful.’”

Crowley snorted at that.

Anathema came over to take a seat next to him, regarding him carefully. She didn’t say anything though. She merely clasped her hands on her drawn up knees and sat quietly as the demon next to her collected himself. After a moment Crowley sighed and slowly unfurled himself from the small ball he had wrapped himself into. He looked over at Anathema who was patiently waiting for him to speak.

“I’m...nervous,” he admitted, face twisting into a disgusted look at the word.

“Oh, is that all? Well, that’s perfectly normal,” Anathema said, “Everyone gets those pre-wedding jitters. I was nervous too, you know.”

“You’re a human, BookGirl.”

“What’s your point, BentleyBoy?”

Crowley rolled his eyes, throwing one arm out in frustration, “My point? My point is that I’ve known Aziraphale for six thousand bloody years and we’ve been in lo- er. We’ve,” he groaned, running a hand down his face. Anathema watched, amused as the demon grappled with his words. Finally he let out another groan and quickly said, “We’vebeeninlove for about the same amount of time, I think. So this shouldn’t be nerve wracking! It’s not like I’m going to get down that stupid aisle and he’s going to say ‘Actually, you know what, good boy, I think it’s gonna be a no from me, thanks though.’ That’d be crazy.

Anathema let a moment pass to see if Crowley had more to say before pressing him further.

“But…?”

“But what if he says no?” Crowley flopped dramatically to the ground, both hands covering his face. From behind his fingers came a muffled, “This is so stupid.

Unable to hold back anymore, Anathema threw her head back and laughed. This earned her a glare from the demon, but it was far less threatening than he had hoped since it came from between his fingers.

“I’m sorry, Crowley, I’m just laughing because, well, it’s not stupid. Like I said, this is all normal.”

“But-”

“And don’t give me that ‘but you’re a human’ shpiel, you know you two are rather,” Anathema flitted her fingers as she attempted to find the right word, “well, rather human-like when it comes down to it.”

Crowley sighed, letting his arms fall away from his face to land on the ground. He stared up at the sky for a moment, watching the clouds above gently float by.

Momentarily, he was jealous of how easy the clouds had it.

“I suppose we are. Human-like, that is. Just feels ridiculous getting all riled up like this.”

“Don’t worry, that’s normal too.” Anathema patted his hand, “I wasn’t going to tell you this, but it seems like it might be for the best. Do you know what Aziraphale is doing right now?” She paused, giving Crowley the chance to turn his head to her, a curious expression on his face. “He’s in there acting as nervous as you right now. Keeps wringing his hands, it was driving me crazy.”

An affectionate chuckle slipped out of Crowley as a fond smile spread across his face, “Yes, he does that quite a lot when he’s nervous. Wait,” he sat up suddenly, pulling his glasses down a bit to look at Anathema in confusion, “what on Earth is he nervous about?”

“Something about worrying you might come to your senses and then something about him being soft? Honestly he was a lot harder to talk to than you, I couldn’t get him to calm down and explain himself. I don’t think he’ll relax until he sees you.”

Crowley sputtered, unable to form a coherent response at that.

Anathema laughed again before standing up, brushing the grass off her skirt as she did so. She looked down at Crowley who still seemed rather confused and held her hand out to him, beaming a reassuring smile down at him. With a heavy, some might say over dramatic sigh, Crowley took hold of her hand and heaved himself up to his feet.

“He really thinks I’d back out?” Crowley asked incredulously, his voice practically a whisper, “Why on Earth would he think that?”

“I could ask you the same question,” Anathema said with a roll of her eyes, “Now let’s get in there before he really loses it.”

Crowley returned the eye roll as Anathema looped her arm through his.

“So, are you ready?”

“Yes, jeez,” Crowley said this with the attitude of a man who hadn’t just spent the past five minutes freaking out, but Anathema let it slide for now. It was his wedding day after all. She reached for the double doors of the church but was cut short by Crowley suddenly yanking her back with an insistent wait wait wait!

“What now?” She asked, exasperated.

Crowley withdrew his arm from hers and reached up to remove his sunglasses. He slid them into his suit pocket, glancing over at Anathema who was watching him with a curious expression on her face.

“I figure he’ll uh, want these off,” he said sheepishly, gesturing vaguely to his eyes, “Says he likes ‘em or something.”

Anathema simply gave him another reassuring smile.

“I figure he will, too.”

With that out of the way, Crowley took another calming breath and looped his arms back through Anathema’s.

“Let’s do this.”

Inside the church Aziraphale stood by the doors that led to the wedding itself, feeling anxiety in every fiber of his angelic being. He had just told off the archangel fucking Gabriel and yet this is what had him shaking. Ridiculous. Foolish.

A light touch at his shoulder caused him to jump and spin around. Anathema stood before him, hands up in apology.

“Didn’t mean to spook you. Are you ready? I told Crowley to start counting and he’s gonna head in when it’s around his time to walk, ya know, to cut down on the burning feet. So we might want to get started.”

“Oh, it’s quite alright, dear. Quite alright. How, uh,” Aziraphale was idly aware he was still wringing his hands and was fully aware he couldn’t make himself stop. “How was he?”

“As nervous as you. You’re both hilarious.”

Aziraphale huffed out a laugh. He was simultaneously not a bit surprised that Crowley would be a bit nervous and also shocked he would be nervous. As if Aziraphale would leave him now after all this time.

Although, Crowley most likely felt the same way.

Right?

“Aziraphale?” Anathema waved her hand in front of his face, “You ready?”

Aziraphale beamed at her, still nervous, but slightly less so than before.

“Absolutely.”

The wedding went like this.

Seated in rows were the handful of guests that the angel and demon had deemed worthy of attending. In the right front row sat the Them, sans Adam and Dog. Their parents had all been invited, and while they had been mildly confused as to who exactly these two men were, they attended nonetheless, perched up in the row behind their children. In the left front row we’re Sergeant Shadwell and Madame Tracy. Behind them sat a fairly confused family known as the Dowlings. Their son, Warlock, was quietly grumbling to his mother.

“Why are we even here I haven’t had a nanny in years,” he complained for the millionth time.

His mother just glared, hissing at him that she had been a very good nanny and he should just be thankful his father had joined them. It must have been by some miracle that his schedule even lined up with the event.

Warlock rolled his eyes, but submitted.

In the other rows were just a few others. Aziraphale had invited his favorite sushi chef, baker, and one particular waitress from The Ritz who had always been rather kind and couldn’t find it in herself to say no to the excited angel and his rather embarrassed fiance. They did always tip fairly well, what could it hurt to go?

It was a small group, but it was all they needed.

And then a small melody began, signaling that the wedding was about to begin. All the guests rose to their feet, looking expectantly towards the doors.

Anathema, the officiant, (when asking Anathema to be the officiant, Crowley had yelled the word out suddenly as if he had just remembered it after a long time of forgetting it, a proud look on his face, much to the confusion of Aziraphale and Anthema, but they decided not to question it at the time) entered as the music began to play for the room.

To a well trained Queen fan, it would have been clear as day that it wasn’t the classic Wedding March playing. It was the gentle piano piece that played at the beginning of Don’t Stop Me Now, but without the lyrics playing just yet. Aziraphale had given Crowley complete control over the music. The instrumental accompanied Anathema as she took her place at the head of the aisle.

And then Aziraphale entered in his bright, white tux, a light blue and gold tartan bow tie at his neck. He flashed a slightly nervous smile to the room and began to walk as Freddie Mercury’s voice joined in.

Tonight I’m gonna have myself a real good time,

I feel ali-i-i-i-ve…

The slow introduction led Aziraphale to his position for the ceremony as he tried to let himself get lost in the strange bebop Crowley had chosen for this moment. It didn’t surprise him even slightly when the demon had slammed his glass of wine down on the coffee table as they planned the wedding, confidently shouting out, “It’s Queen or nothing!

So don’t. Stop. Me Now.

Don’t...stop...

And then, as Adam and Dog more or less slid into the entrance of the aisle, the music picked up.

Because I’m having a good time,

Having a good time!

Aziraphale, and the rest of the guests, watched with a fair amount of glee and amusement as Adam and Dog essentially wiggled their way down the aisle to the music. Adam, the designated flower child, decorated the floor in flowers as Dog dutifully carried the rings in a small basket he carried in his mouth.

They reached the end of the aisle and took their places slightly off to the side, Dog sitting obediently next to Adam as they turned to face the entryway.

And then, just as Freddie Mercury belted out a lyric about a Mister Farenheit, Crowley entered, practically tap dancing as best he could to the song. Unheard by anyone except his wife was Thaddeus Dowling whispering a confused, “Is that the nanny?” before he was elbowed in the ribs by said wife, accompanied by a sharp ‘Shut it, Thaddeus’.

I'm traveling at the speed of light,

I wanna make a supersonic man out of you!

Both celestial beings made eye contact at the same time. Crowley was momentarily thrown off, almost coming to a standstill as he took in his angel. If it hadn’t been for the burning sensation eating through his snakeskin boots straight to the soles of his feet, he might have actually stopped. His angel looked sublime in his white tuxedo, his bright curls catching the light through the windows and practically illuminating a halo behind him as he stared in wonder at the demon.

Aziraphale first and foremost noticed that Crowley’s glasses were missing in action, so to speak, when he met his bright serpent eyes with his own blue ones. And the second thing he noticed was how handsome he was. His suit was black, naturally, but his tie was a deep red that complimented his hair beautifully. The sight of him looking so dashing and moving in that familiar jerky manner in this setting melted the nerves out of him instantly and shot him back to the day the demon had saved him from near discorporation. The day he had saved his books. And most importantly the day Aziraphale became painfully aware of how much he loved the demon.

Don't stop me now, I'm having such a good time,

I'm having a ball,

Don't stop me now!

Aziraphale could only watch for a handful of seconds as Crowley hippity hopped his way down the aisle before letting out an overjoyed laugh, overcome with too many feelings to properly express before he dashed forward. Crowley had made it about halfway down the aisle before Aziraphale essentially swooped in and scooped him up bridal style.

The demon let out an alarmed, “Angel!” but it wasn’t anger that flashed across his eyes or even embarrassment. It was fondness and love, just as it had always been. Aziraphale, with his demon in his arms, carried him the rest of the way. All Crowley could do was laugh, one arm looped around his angel’s neck as he threw his other arm out theatrically to the guests and belted out the words to the song still playing them down the aisle.

Don't stop me now ('cause I'm having a good time),

Don't stop me now (yes, I'm havin' a good time),

I don't want to stop at all…

The music slowly faded out once the two reached the end and stood before Anathema. To her credit she was doing a fairly spectacular job at keeping her composure with only an amused smile on her face.

Anathema cleared her throat as the guests took their seats.

“Well, then,” she said with a small laugh, “as you can all see, we are gathered here today to celebrate these two people and their love for one another. And if you knew how long these two have been dancing around each other, you would agree with me in saying their long overdue wedding.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes as Crowley nodded in agreement.

“They’ve been through more than I can say. Some might even say they’ve been to the end of the world,” Anathema said this with a coy smile before returning to her original grin, “and now they’re ready to face life head on, together as they always have. Now, before I go on, I believe you both have prepared your own vows?”

Aziraphale’s grip tightened on Crowley.

Crowley merely leaned as much out of Aziraphale’s grip as he could without falling, both arms looped around his shoulders now for leverage as he attempted to look as dignified as possible as he could being held the way he was. The angel turned his head to meet Crowley's gaze and felt the nervous tension in him fade away once again. The demon smiled softly.

“Aziraphale,” he said, “I’m certainly hoping you know this by now, but I love you. I’ve loved you since the Garden where you shielded me from the rain, and have kept loving you since. I love your ridiculous bow ties, and your garrish love of tartan and crepes, and the way you cherish your books,” Crowley shut his eyes briefly to center himself before continuing on, “You’re my best friend. Every day spent without you feels like rubbish. I can’t wait to spend the next six thousand years making up for lost time.” Crowley smiled at his angel again, doing his best to ignore the tears welling up in said angels eyes, “I love you, angel. Always have. Always will.”

The angel breathed out a breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding.

“Oh, Crowley,” he whispered.

“That better not be all of your vows.”

Anathema and a few guests chuckled at that. Aziraphale shot a playful glare at Crowley.

“Hush, you,” Aziraphale said.The angel had been the one to suggest the vows, and then promptly spent a solid two days fretting over them. How was he supposed to sum up everything he felt? And then say it in front of a room of people? It had been a nerve wracking two days to say the least.

So, before his nerves got the better of him, he cleared his throat and took a careful, calming breath. And then, meeting Crowley’s patient, affectionate gaze, he began.

“Anthony J. Crowley. You are, quite frankly, ridiculous.”

Crowley raised his eyebrow at that, but the smile on his face remained.

“Let me finish!” Aziraphale said quickly before continuing on, “As I was saying, you are ridiculous. And a wily serpent. And you yell at your plants far too much. And you have a tendency to drive far, far too fast.”

Crowley’s smile faltered slightly, but he did his best to wait for the rest.

The angel offered him a gentle smile here, his grip once again tightening. Not out of nerves this time, just to help calm the demon in his arms.

“And I simply adore all these things. You’re ridiculous because it’s fun. You’re a wily serpent, but the kindest man I’ve ever known. And you yell at your plants because you care and want them to flourish. And when I think back on our long lives, I’ve come to realize you were never going too fast. I was just a bit slow to catch up. But you waited for me all the way, always there to catch me should I, well, fall. If you’ll pardon the phrase, dear,” Aziraphale cleared his throat again, tears still threatening to spill, “Without you to share life with, to share a glass of wine or a good book, it would be dull. You and I are ineffable, my darling. And I love you so, so much.”

Crowley furiously blinked back his own tears, refusing to cry in front of a room of people.

Anathema looked between the two men before speaking again.

“This might seem like a silly question, but I have to ask. Do you, Aziraphale, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“Oh, absolutely, I do,” Aziraphale breathed, not taking his eyes off Crowley.

“And do you, Crowley, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

Crowley snorted, “Obviously, I do.”

Anathema rolled her eyes at the slight sass before quietly asking for the rings. Dog trotted over and presented them for Anathema to reach down and hold out for the two men before her. The rings were two golden bands, with three simple words etched into them in a beautiful script.

To The World

Aziraphale, unable to find a way around this, let Crowley to the floor where he did a gentle hop from one foot to the other as he held out his hand. The angel slid the ring on his finger and let Crowley do the same.

“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and, well, husband. You may kiss the angel.”

Before Crowley could do just that, Aziraphale had gathered the demon into his arms again, a delighted laugh escaping him as he did so. And then they kissed, each feeling the others pure, unfiltered love for the other as they did. They pulled apart, foreheads resting against each other as they gazed into each others eyes, bright smiles on their faces, and tears they both wouldn’t bring up later trailing down their cheeks.

They barely registered the cheering from the guests.

And then came the reception.

Most members of the Them stood near the head of the area that had been deemed the dance floor. Directly behind them was Brian, perched at a small music station with speakers on either side. Pepper stood in the middle of Adam and Wensleydale, holding a microphone as she surveyed the small gathering. Off to the side was a table filled to the brim with an assortment of pastries, crepes, and whatever else Aziraphale had requested. Another table held wine for any adults or celestial beings who wished to partake and some juice for the more sober folk and minors. Everyone for now though was gathered around the dance area.

Pepper beamed at the crowd.

“Introducing, for the first time as a married couple—which I am pleased to remind you all is merely society’s continued attempt to force us all into a status quo to hold control over us, and is in no way necessary for a happy and content life—Aziraphale and Crowley!”

Wensleydale leaned over as Pepper held the mic out for him.

“And I was told to say that they will be performing the Gavotte to Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy by Queen, and that they will not be accepting criticism. Thank you.”

“Right you are, Wensleydale,” Pepper said, returning the mic to herself, “Well said.”

And then, arm in arm, beaming at the Them for their grand introduction, Crowley and Aziraphale walked into view. They took their places in the middle of the floor, each facing the other as they waited for the music to begin.

“Don’t get mad if I mess up,” Crowley hissed quickly. He had been practicing, but knew he most likely hadn’t mastered the complicated dance as well as his angel.

Aziraphale just smiled a reassuring smile back at him.

Pepper spun on her heel, pointing a finger at Brian with a flair that made Crowley proud and Anahema laugh loudly, head thrown back and grabbing Newt for support.

“Hit it, Brian!” Pepper shouted into the microphone before dropping the mic and ushering Adam and Wensleydale towards Brian.

Brian grinned and slammed the button that started the music and the slightly upbeat tune of Good Old Fashioned Loverboy began.

I can dim the lights and sing you songs full of sad things

We can do the tango just for two

I can serenade and gently play on your heart strings

Be your Valentino just for you

Aziraphale expertly began moving his feet to the music, Crowley doing a fair job of mirroring him before they both turned, looping their arms with each other and side stepping. The angel couldn’t stop smiling as they danced, unable to contain his joy. Crowley, his Crowley, was doing the gavotte with him, for him, at their wedding. And it was their first dance.

He loved him so.

They had of course had to add some modifications for the first round of it, what with it just being the two of them. As they performed the kicks, with Crowley slipping free of his angel and dancing around him, Aziraphale noticed that Crowley’s legs looked as if they were made for this activity.

I'd like for you and I to go romancing

Say the word, your wish is my command

The two looped arms again, performing the kicks side by side before throwing their arms out. Both were laughing as they were joined by Anathema, dragging an extremely nervous Newt behind her, and a very excited looking Madame Tracy.

The four amateurs continued to do their best at the dance, this time they were at least able to properly dance around Aziraphale in a more synchronised fashion this time.

Dining at the Ritz, we'll meet at nine precisely

(One two three four five six seven eight nine o' clock)

I will pay the bill, you taste the wine

Aziraphale’s heart more or less soared at that line every time.

The song came to an end, Crowley lightly singing along with Freddie Mercury Ooh Loverboy as they all threw their arms out in a grand finish. Aziraphale laughed and let himself be gathered in Crowley’s arms. The demon leaned in to whisper in his ear.

“You ready for my dancing now, angel?”

The rest of the guests filtered onto the dance floor as You’re My Best Friend began to play, and Aziraphale watched as Crowley began to do...something more or less adjacent to dancing. He let loose a loud laugh and followed suit, letting himself dance and, Lord help him, jive to the music along with his husband.

Surrounded by their friends, and the still fairly confused Dowlings, Aziraphale and Crowley continued to dance. They both grinned at one another, each inwardly laughing at how nervous they had been no more than thirty minutes ago. Each amused at how a witch had not only been the one talk them both down, but had also been the officiate to their wedding. At how the Antichrist had gleefully tossed flowers to pave the way for Crowley. At how said Antichrist’s Hellhound had delivered their rings.

At how incredibly happy they felt to finally be connected in this silly, human way.

The two met in the middle of the dance floor, Crowley taking hold of Aziraphale’s hand. He twirled the angel once before yanking him in to lightly dip him backwards, delivering a quick kiss to the angels laughing face.

Both the angel and demon, still laughing lightly in each other’s arms, knew it didn’t matter if Heaven of Hell tried to come back for them. Come flames or high water, nothing would tear them apart.