Chapter Text
Aziraphale and Crowley were at a wedding reception - Newt and Anathema’s, to be exact. Newt had worn a crisp black suit that had clearly not been ironed and cleaned by the man himself, and Anathema had worn a dashing white suit of her own. Both Crowley and Aziraphale had agreed that the suit was much more Anathema than any dress she could’ve worn.
The ceremony had been gorgeous and quaint. It was held outside in a little garden outside of a castle, decorated with black and white roses and fairy lights all around. The Them were there, as were Shadwell and Madame Tracy, and a few others who knew Anathema or Newt. Aziraphale found the entire thing completely exciting. Crowley pretended to be bothered by the occupation, though he was happy for the couple. Aziraphale caught him staring up at the lights with a smile more than a few times.
Sometime during the reception (which had been coordinated with assigned seating. Crowley and Aziraphale had been sat with Shadwell, Madame Tracy, Anathema’s mother, and her two sisters and their partners, who’d looked absolutely mortified when Shadwell had asked for a glass of condensed milk with his meal. Madame Tracy simply tried to smile), when things had calmed down, Aziraphale had leaned into Crowley, whose arm was lying against the back of the angel’s chair.
“I still don’t fully understand this sacrament,” he said quietly. “I know I should, but it just seems… Unnecessary to me. Though it is rather beautiful.”
Crowley picked up the glass of wine that was sitting in front of him with the hand that wasn’t gently brushing Aziraphale’s shoulder. He swirled the liquid around. “Humans like physical evidence of their mistakes. If they didn’t, crime rates would historically be much lower than they are,” Crowley stated matter-of-factly.
At this point, Anathema’s mother, as well as Madame Tracy, had gotten up from the table to socialize and badger the bride and groom. Crowley snuck a glance at Shadwell, who seemed to be scowling in their direction. Crowley watched his lips form a word that vaguely looked like, “Pansies”. He smiled.
“That’s a… pessimistic outlook.” Aziraphale rolled his head to the side to look up at Crowley. He was frowning.
“Marriage is the easiest way to get them down with my side. It’s not my favorite of human traditions.”
Aziraphale harrumphed. “Well, when you put it that way…”
“You better pray that these two-“ Crowley motioned to Anathema and Newt. Newt was cowering as Anathema’s mother gave him a talking-to that looked a lot like a shovel talk. The rest of the demon’s words were stained by a smile “-work out. Could be disastrous if they don’t.”
“How so?” Aziraphale’s eyebrows furrowed.
“Wouldn’t put it past Anathema to do something foul to poor Newton over there. I might actually influence her to, now that I think about it. The boy needs it.”
Aziraphale sat up, a hand on Crowley’s chest. “You wouldn’t.”
Crowley grinned. It was mischievous. It was a look that Aziraphale wasn’t used to seeing outside of the privacy of either of their homes. “Oh, I would.”
“Crowley-“
Thwip.
One of Aziraphale’s hands flew up to the back of his head. He turned around to see Adam Young, sitting at the table behind them, holding a straw to his lips. Aziraphale forced a smile. The antichrist could be a bit of a brat sometimes.
“Sorry, Mr. Aziraphale,” Adam announced, smiling. The rest of his little band of miscreants snickered amongst themselves. Crowley turned around to look at them with an eyebrow raised. Adam waved. “Hiya, Mr. Crowley.”
“Hi, Adam. Could you possibly not blow spitballs at the adults?” he asked. He looked down his nose at the children. His sunglasses were low enough that he knew Adam could see his eyes.
“Sorry. We were scared that you two were gonna kiss or something. Nothing against the two of you, I just think kissing’s gross.” The Them’s parents seemed completely oblivious to anything that was going on. Crowley wondered if that was natural or that was Adam.
Aziraphale blushed. Yes, angels do indeed blush. Why else would rosy cheeks be such a key characteristic of cherubs?
“Um, we don’t… We aren’t-”
“We’ll try to keep our kissing at home. Apologies for scaring you.” Crowley turned back around. He scoffed. Aziraphale had gone back to leaning against him and was smiling down at the floor.
One of Anathema’s aunts was staring at them. Crowley hissed at her, forked tongue at all. No one had ever said that he was the most pleasant to be around. She touched her chest, affronted. Crowley just smiled and stood up from the table, taking Aziraphale’s hand to lead him up as well.
___
Later in the evening, Crowley and Aziraphale finally managed to get a moment with Newt, who’d been inundated with conversation all night. The three of them were standing at a corner on the dance floor, which was a bit more lively than one might’ve thought it would be. They’d been talking for about ten minutes when the conversation reached a bit of a standstill.
“So… Shadwell tells me that you two are… together now?” Newt awkwardly half-asked in the silence where conversation had once been. Crowley sighed. He had to stop paying that old man (Especially since he and Aziraphale’d had an enlightening talk in which they’d learned that Shadwell was playing them both).
“Does he now? And you still listen?” Crowley returned in place of an answer. Newt stuttered for a moment.
“Well… Probably not… Not ‘probably not’, that doesn’t make sense- I mean, not most of the time, but sometimes he’ll say something worthwhile and-”
“Shut up, Newt. He’s right. We’re partners. Does that answer your question?”
Aziraphale chuckled besides Crowley. “Stop heckling the poor boy on his wedding day, dear.”
“‘M not heckling. Just doling out judgment where judgment is due.” Crowley smiled pleasantly at the groom, who was staring at them like he’d seen another alien.
A few more minutes of lulled conversation passed by before Newt metaphorically dropped another bomb on them.
“I know this is entirely disrespectful and I’ll probably get smited or something for asking this, but, do you two…. do it?”
Aziraphale gave a puzzled look. They did a lot of things, actually. They raised plants, they disrespected their respective bosses, and even occasionally conspired to stop the end of the world together. The angel pursed his lips, wondering if he had missed part of the conversation. Beside him, Crowley was sighing.
“Y’know… Birds do it, bees do it, educated fleas do it, that whole thing?”
Aziraphale was still wearing the expression of an American who’d just heard the phrase ‘the tube’ for the first time without context. Crowley turned to say in his ear, “He means sex.” Newt was grateful he didn’t have to be the one to say the word.
“Oh,” Aziraphale simply said, his cheeks turning a delicate rosy color.
“If you make it past thirty-five, I will be genuinely surprised,” Crowley deadpanned, looking Newt in the eye. The angel and demon could see the absolute regret showing up on Newt’s face. Crowley decided to spare him. His social skills weren’t exactly the most painted, after all.
“I don’t actually know if Satan will allow me to answer that question,” Crowley said, vaguely sarcastically. Aziraphale discreetly pinched his forearm.
Newt’s face became white. “Oh,” he practically gasped. “I wouldn’t want to upset Satan.”
“Refrain from asking demons about their sex lives.”
“Yeah.” Newt swallowed. “‘Course.”
It was then that Anathema approached them, breaking a bit of the awkwardness that was flowing between the group. Crowley and Aziraphale congratulated her, and then she congratulated them, and all the while Newt was jealous of how easy it was for her to talk to people. They’d have to work on that.
Crowley and Aziraphale spent the rest of the evening drinking and attempting to dance and Aziraphale even did a few magic tricks for the kids (Which they thoroughly enjoyed, with the help of a few miracles from Crowley).
In the end, they both had a great time. As they were walking out to the Bentley, the night cool and the sky oddly clear, Aziraphale spoke up.
“I think I understand it now,” he said quietly.
“Hmm?”
“Marriage, I mean,” he clarified. And then his fingers brushed against Crowley’s and they locked hands. Crowley smiled a small, private smile.
“One day, angel,” he said. “One day.”