An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 12/12
Fandom: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Characters: Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens), The Them (Good Omens), Anathema Device, Newton Pulsifer, Original Female Character(s)
Additional Tags: Mutual Pining, Ineffable Idiots, the mortifying ordeal of being human, Crowley thinks human bodies are vile and I don't disagree, Bedsharing, Slow Burn, Post-Canon, Domesticity, Getting Together, Genderfluid Crowley (Good Omens), mentions of dysphoria, Cohabitation, Original Character(s), Original Character Death(s)
Summary:
In the wake of Armageddidn't, Crowley and Aziraphale struggle with their relationship to each other and what to do with themselves. Fate intervenes in the form of the Four Horsepeople and their afflictions, although not quite in the way either demon or angel would have expected.
(Or: two supernatural idiots get stricken with mortality and have to muddle through the ordeal of being human as well as their own feelings. It goes about as well as you might expect. Shenanigans, mutual pining, and long-suppressed feelings abound.)
This chapter: Aziraphale and Crowley get married. Then they find out who actually made them mortal--and why.
Crowley had worked overtime until every pillar, window frame, and arching bannister was bursting with color, a riot of flowers in perfect bloom to rival any garden (even the Garden). Calla lilies and sweet peas beckoned from stone archways; orchids swayed in the gentle breeze, dangling from delicate stems. Vines made of peonies and ranunculus climbed the arch over the altar, tumbling romantically from the sides. The scene was magnificent.
And then there were the people. Despite their initial estimation that the ceremony would be quite small, nearly a hundred guests crowded into the park on that gorgeous July morning. Aziraphale was honestly astonished.
In addition to Aziraphale and Crowley’s human friends and their immediate family, the wedding congregation was swelled by a great many people they’d met through their ‘work.’ A number of the attendees were young people who’d found much-needed sanctuary at one of the shelters or programs they helped run, or who’d come to know Aziraphale through the bookshop. Many of them presented a sharp contrast to the extremely traditional location Bev had found for the wedding: pierced and tattooed, their hair every color of the rainbow, sporting secondhand suits and dresses and everything in between.
Aziraphale loved it. He knew for a fact that Crowley did, too. And Aziraphale might not prefer more ‘modern’ clothes himself, but they’d gone out of their way to make it clear on the invitations that having their guests come as their happiest, truest selves was more important than anything else.
And this moment, when the music was swelling and he and Crowley were walking up the twin paths towards the altar—this was when Aziraphale was struck with realization. He could feel the love and happiness radiating off every single person in this room. Happiness for him and Crowley, together.