Gabriel and Beelzebub start sniffing around Crowley and Aziraphale again. The two of them are trying to figure out what to do, sitting in the back of Aziraphale’s shop. Crowley is alternately sprawled in an armchair or pacing, while Aziraphale sits at a desk facing him, hands steepled as he thinks.
They both agree that they need an alternative to the face swap. It’s not viable long-term, and sooner or later Gabriel and/or Beelzebub will catch on.
“We need a way for me to borrow your holiness,” Crowley starts,
“And for me to borrow your, ah, blasphemousness,” Aziraphale agrees.
“Yeah, at a moment’s notice.“ The demon throws himself back down on the chair in disgust, limbs pointing every different direction.
“Some sort of, connection, I suppose, that will work on all planes.” Crowley makes a noise of agreement.
For several long minutes, there is silence. Somewhere a clock ticks
Aziraphale thinks of it first.
“We could get married,” he offers hesitantly, suddenly nervous to look Crowley in the face.
For possibly the first time in 6000 years, Crowley goes completely still.
“What.” he gets out, but it’s not really a question. More of an expression of shock.
“Matrimony is the joining of two souls before God,” Aziraphale hurries out his reasoning, “Theoretically, if we worded the vows right, it should allow each of us to borrow the other’s immunity, and it should function no matter where we were.”
“Angel, do you really think that the Almighty,” the word has a twist on it that’s half anger, half sorrow, “Would recognize a marriage between us?” Crowley yanks off his glasses, catching Aziraphale’s eyes as if to underscore what he was. With me? is what’s written on his face.
“If you don’t want to, just say,” Aziraphale holds Crowley’s gaze. For a moment the two stare at each other, an angel and demon who’ve known each other since the very Beginning sitting in the back of a bookshop in Soho.
Crowley snorts out something that may have been a laugh but is a bit too shaky and puts his glasses back on. Aziraphale politely pretends not to notice the tremor in his hands as he does.
“Alright, Angel. Let’s get married.”
__________________________________________
They held the ceremony in a pub a block or two off St. James Park, a little place called Adam and Eve that Crowley had taken Aziraphale to some night in the 1830s. (A church was, of course, right out).
Rings had not been discussed, but when the priest Aziraphale had talked into performing the ceremony asked, they each pulled out a box.
Crowley gave Aziraphale an ouroboros that looked remarkably like he did when scaled, with two topaz chips for eyes. In return, Aziraphale gave him two silver wings that wrapped around to form a circle, a strip of sapphire lining where the two met.
They swore that they would defend each other with mind, body, and soul. They swore that they would stand together in the good times and the bad. They swore that they would cherish the other through whatever life threw their way.
In short, they swore to keep doing what they had been for over six millennia.
At the end of the ceremony, Aziraphale asked one of the humans who had been eating there to sign as a witness. She smiled as she scrawled her signature on the line.
“Oh, and Crowley,” she looked up as both of them stiffened in shock. They both recognized that voice, and her eyes now held the Universe– vast and ancient and ineffable. “To answer your question, I did plan it all this way. Well done with the apocalypse,” the Almighty handed them back their certificate, “and congratulations on your wedding!” She gave them both a pleased smile and walked out of the pub.
“Apparently, She does recognize our marriage,” Aziraphale murmured to a still-stunned Crowley as he reviewed Her signature which simply read ‘I am.’
The ouroboros ring from Crowley comes from @forineffablereasons
The Adam and Eve pub actually exists two blocks-ish from St. James Park and is a legal place to get married in the UK as far as I could tell from some cursory research.
Thank you if you’ve read this far! This was my first attempt ever at fanfiction and I hope you enjoyed it.
A continuation of this story can be found here. It’s up on AO3 here.
May I have a safe name? I find myself longing for something unknown of late, and the forest calls me in the early mornings. I have my hag stone and iron powder, but I would like one last measure of safety before I go wandering.
I guess everyone can figure out what this was inspired by lol.
Also, if anyone has advice on how to make a plague doctor mask like the one above let me know! I (personally) think this would be a nifty outfit to wear and all I’’m missing is the mask and the gloves!
My mother used to tell me
Don’t go out after dark
Don’t play near mushroom rings
Don’t make wishes aloud
My mother used to tell me
Be kind
Be cunning
Be honest
My mother used to tell me
Kindness can be a weapon
Cunning a shield
Honesty a rope to tie into knots
I forgot the things my mother used to tell me
But I remembered fast
When I tripped into a mushroom ring
And found myself falling further than the ground.
insp. by the song “God Save the Prom Queen” by Molly Kate Kestner. I heard it while falling asleep and its been stuck in my head for three days. Its a good song, I recommend listening.
Rhysand drawn as a stranger version of faery and based on this post.
[Image Caption: Rhysand from A Court of Thorns and Roses sitting, wings spread behind him. The bottom of his are speckled with stars. His skin is a deep indigo and his eyes hold a glowing crescent moon. He wears a dark blue suit. His hair is dark feathers and a purple glow streams from his hands and head.]
