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Crowley has loved Aziraphale since the Beginning. He first saw the angel standing on the garden wall, looking out into the distance at Adam and Eve, who were forced to leave when he tempted them to the apple. He thought the angel was cute and fancied talking to him, but when Aziraphale admitted that he gave the sword to Adam to protect them, it was too late. He was already in too deep with the angel. Then when the first rainfall started and Crowley shifted ever so slightly closer to the angel, Aziraphale lifted his wing to cover Crowley and protect him from the rain. He fell again there – he fell from Heaven once already, but there; there he was falling for the angel, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
Of course, it took Aziraphale longer to realize it. Crowley was all too excited to find the angel was staying on earth with him and made sure he saw the angel every time they were in the same place. Aziraphale didn’t know he loved the demon until Rome and didn’t admit it until Paris. They had a bit of a scuffle with the whole holy water deal, but they stuck together in the end.
The only problem with this was, of course, their two respective places of work. Heaven and Hell would be outraged if they found that the two of them loved each other, so for a while, they hid. They met accidentally-on-purpose in places all over London and the nearby area, stealing quick moments with each other. When they really wanted to risk it, they would hide in Aziraphale’s bookshop for a few hours. Armageddon tested them too, but they could never stay apart for long.
Now though, the world had ended and was reborn, and Heaven and Hell were both fooled into believing Aziraphale and Crowley were not to be messed with.
“What do we do now?” Aziraphale asks Crowley as they walk back to the bookstore together after their lunch at the Ritz.
“Whatever we want,” Crowley answers with a shrug. “Like this!” He grabs Aziraphale’s hand purposefully and swings his arm as they continue to walk.
“Crowley,” Aziraphale comments, blushing slightly. “What are you doing?”
“Heaven and Hell can kiss. My. Ass,” he says, drawing out the last word. “They’re not going to bother us anymore after the stunt we pulled, so I don’t give a fuck anymore! I want this new world to know that this angel is taken, angel! I’ll yell it through the streets of London if I have to!”
“Crowley please,” Aziraphale begs, a darker shade of pink now.
“Oh come on,” he answers, seeing Aziraphale’s face. “I’m just holding your hand! We’ve hidden this for centuries now from everyone, and there is no reason to anymore, so I’ll be damned if I’m not allowed to hold my own husband's hand.” He winks at Aziraphale.
Aziraphale rolls his eyes but smiles, saying, “Oh, alright. But at least let me get used to it publicly? That means no kissing while in public for now.”
“Fine, fine,” he relents, knowing he’d do anything for Aziraphale. “If you’re going to take it slow, then why don’t we do a little something?”
“I am not helping you tempt anyone into anything,” is the immediate response, so this time it’s Crowley's turn to roll his eyes.
“No, angel, I merely meant doing something other than St. James Park or the old bandstand. We’ve hardly met anywhere else besides the store, and we’ve been married for what, almost a century now?”
“I still remember it like it was yesterday,” Aziraphale smiles fondly. “It was in the ruins of that church you rescued me from –”
“We rescued each other from,” Crowley amends.
“- all secluded and out of the way,” he continues, without commenting on Crowley’s addition. “That priest was very nice, though I’m certain if you hadn’t pretended to be a woman he would have never married us –”
“Well times have changed now angel,” Crowley gestures to the door of the bookshop, letting Aziraphale go in first. “Most people won’t bat an eye if we spend the afternoon snogging in the middle of Saint James Park.”
“I certainly did love that dress though,” Aziraphale continues, and Crowley feels like he’s talking to a brick wall that won’t move off of the topic. “You looked beautiful in it, with all the lace and flowers.”
“I look beautiful in anything,” he answers with a roll of his eyes. “But I might still have the dress if you want to see it again.”
Aziraphale's eyes grow bright, and he smiles, pleading, “Oh, would you?”
~~~
“What’s wrong, angel?” Crowley asks later, as they sit drinking wine together.
“Oh, nothing,” he answers quickly, too quickly, dismissing it with a shake of his head.
“You know that doesn’t work on me anymore,” Crowley answers, setting his glass down. “Stop hiding from me. You don’t have to anymore.”
“More wine?” Aziraphale suggests instead, but when he catches sight of the concerned glare Crowley is giving him over the top of his glasses, he gives in. “Oh, alright. Since the shop burned and all, and then Adam returned everything, well, I’m afraid some things were either returned to different spots or not returned at all.”
“Well if it’s a book I’ll be more than willing to search the internet for you, perform a small demonic miracle so that I can buy it, maybe,” Crowley answers with a smile. “Stop worrying angel; it’s just a book.”
“Well that’s just it, isn’t it?” he says, standing abruptly. “It’s not just a book, or a scroll, or some other kind of priceless tome I’ve collected.” He starts to sift through his things, pushing everything around and cluttering the place again. “It’s that ring you gave me for our wedding. I usually kept it on my desk, since wearing it around the other angels might have attracted attention, but I just can’t find it!”
Crowley sighs and sets his glass down, getting up to help. “Have you tried a miracle to find it?”
“Don’t be silly, Crowley, miracles don’t work like that!” He shifts a few more papers around on the desk before he reaches the end of the stack, uncovering the small gold band at the bottom. “Oh! There it is. I guess I was worried for nothing, silly me.” He looks over to Crowley who wiggles his eyebrows a little, telling Aziraphale that it was because of him. “Oh, you don’t have to be such a show-off,” he answers, sliding the ring onto his finger.
“I did tell you all you had to do was miracle it,” Crowley says, drawing close to the angel. “You were just too stubborn.”
“Well then, dear,” Aziraphale returns, pursing his lips. “Where is yours?”
“Right here,” he answers with a cocky smile, pulling the silver band out of his jacket pocket and holding it between his finger and thumb. “I always keep it on me. Surprised you hadn’t seen that earlier when you were wearing the jacket.”
“I had more important things on my mind than going through your jacket pockets. Does a trip to Hell on your behalf sound familiar to you?”
Crowley just smiles and pecks Aziraphale on the lips, slipping his ring onto his hand. “I still say I would have asked for something other than a rubber duck.” He turns around and starts to walk back to his chair.
Aziraphale rolls his eyes fondly. “Well, at least I didn’t breathe fire at them.”
Crowley wheels around, staggering a little at the intensity of it, before pointing an accusing finger at Aziraphale and defending, “You did not see how absolutely miserable the angels were treating you! Me! Whatever! I was trying to act like you, I told them before I stepped into the hellfire that it was nice knowing them all because that sounded like some shit you’d say to them, even after all the terrible things they’ve done to you, and fucking Gabriel told me to shut my stupid face and die already! I couldn’t let them treat you so damn awful like that and let them get away with it.” He turns back away and drops into his chair, picking up his wine glass again with a hint of a sneer on his face.
Aziraphale sits down next to him and places a small kiss on his cheek, quietly saying, “And that’s why I love you.”
“Love you too,” Crowley mumbles, but the sneer is gone and a sort of smile has replaced it.
Aziraphale spins his ring around on his finger as the shop settles back into silence, trying to adjust to the new object, when an idea forms. “You know, after hardly wearing the ring this past century, it feels rather odd to be wearing it around now.”
“And what do you want me to do about that, angel?” Crowley asks, taking a sip of wine. “You just said you love me, so you’re kind of stuck with me, and I’m not taking the ring back.”
Aziraphale swats him on the arm lightly. “That is most certainly not what I meant. There’s this thing some of the humans do where they go back to the church, some couple of years after they’ve married, to reaffirm their vows. Wouldn’t it just be lovely if we did that, now that we’ve saved the world? We could invite everyone who was there yesterday, the ones who helped us stop Armageddon?”
“Even the kids?”
“What, are you saying you don’t want to do it?”
“No, no,” Crowley says quickly; before Aziraphale can pull out his pouting face that Crowley still hasn’t become immune to. He doesn’t think he ever will. “I was just wondering how we’d invite the kids without their parents thinking it’s strange.”
“Oh, well, I’m sure we can figure something out.”
~~~
Crowley arrives at the bookstore the next day to find a package waiting on the front steps. He shakes his head and picks it up for Aziraphale, bringing it in with him.
“Oh, angel!” he calls out, making sure the door locks behind him. “There’s something here for you! And I don’t mean me, but I guess – yeah I’m here too.”
“Crowley,” Aziraphale smiles, coming out from between book stacks. “I didn’t even know that arrived already; I must have been too wrapped up in my head to hear the knocking.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Crowley mutters as he hands the box over. “What is it, anyway?”
Aziraphale takes the box over to his desk and looks for a pair of scissors so he can open it. “Oh, right. Well, we were talking last night about the whole renewing our vows thing, or were you too drunk to remember?”
“I remember it fine, angel,” he answers, scrunching his nose. “What does that have to do with the box?”
Aziraphale opens the box and folds the flaps down, shuffling to the side to let Crowley snake in and see its contents. “I ordered different wedding magazines so we can plan this out! I want it to be perfect.”
Crowley rolls his eyes. “We didn’t have anything fancy at our other wedding.”
“Well that was in the middle of a war, wasn’t it? Besides, there were only two of us then, and now we’re inviting a small group of friends.”
“Oh I don’t do friends,” Crowley says, looking Aziraphale in the eye. “Bit of a nasty business, friends, because then you have to do things like be kind to them.” He curls his lip in disgust.
“You will do friends and you will like having friends!” Aziraphale insists, scrunching his face up so it looks like he’s mad, but he actually does it because he knows exactly how to get Crowley to do something. “Besides, I was your friend.”
Crowley puts his hands up in surrender. “Okay, alright! I’ll have friends. But I am not going to be your definition of nice to them, and you can’t pull another face to change my mind about that.” He turns and walks away through the book stacks before Aziraphale can pull anything else out of his bag of tricks.
“I was hoping you’d design the invitations,” Aziraphale calls out into the shop after Crowley.
He sticks his head out from between books and asks, “Me? Why the bloody hell – heavens – whatever I’m supposed to say now, do you think that’s a good idea?”
Aziraphale shrugs sheepishly. “You keep changing your hair and clothes and whatnot; I thought you’d like designing the invitations.”
“Design the invitations,” Crowley mutters as he disappears back into the books. “Design the bloody invitations.” He sighs and calls out to Aziraphale, “What colors do you want?”
Smiling after his victory, Aziraphale starts spreading the magazines around and calls back, “Whatever you make dear, I’ll go off of that.”
Crowley rolls his eyes and finds a blank piece of paper among the pile of books. He picks it up and takes it back over to Aziraphale, handing it over. “How’s this?”
Aziraphale takes the paper from him and looks at the invitation Crowley created as he walked over. The border is made of black snakes looping and curling around each other, and in each corner rests a set of golden wings. The words are printed in cursive, but the color depends on the angle of the light – it changes to a different color of the rainbow each time Aziraphale moves the paper.
“A little obvious, don’t you think?” he says, admiring the constant color changing. “With the snakes and wings, I mean.”
“You don’t like it?” Crowley asks seriously; he was especially proud of the colors.
Aziraphale turns and kisses his cheek. “It’s lovely,” he answers, and Crowley has to turn away before he melts into a puddle under Aziraphale’s gaze.
“What’s next then?” Crowley says, taking the invitation back and setting a small stack of them down on the desk.
“We should pick a location and a date to put on those invitations, that is the point of sending them out after all.”
“Right.” Crowley purses his lips, walking over to the map on the wall. “You know, it took me way too long to decide on Alpha Centauri when I tried to get you to run away with me, so I’m afraid you’re going to have to do this one.”
Aziraphale sets the last magazine down and joins Crowley at the map, wrapping his arm around him. Crowley does the same, and together, they study the map.
“Well I’ll be,” Aziraphale finally says, his eyes settling on a familiar spot on the map. “Are you up for a drive? I think I just found the perfect spot.”
~~~
“Does the area look familiar yet?” Aziraphale asks as he gives Crowley directions, speeding through the streets of London.
“I drive an average of eighty miles per hour every time I’m out, angel,” Crowley answers, shaking his head and taking the next turn. “You really think I notice any of my surroundings?”
“Well, you seem to know the way to my shop fairly well for not knowing the surroundings.”
“Well that’s because I have the turns memorized.”
“Stop here,” Aziraphale tells him, and Crowley pulls into a spot that miraculously opens just when he needs it. “We’ll walk the rest of the way.”
“What’s the point of taking the car if we’re just going to walk?” Crowley says, slamming the car door behind him.
“For the surprise!” Aziraphale answers excitedly, straightening his jacket. “I can’t believe it’s still here.”
“Angel, if you keep talking like this –”
“Your threats don’t work on me anymore, dear.” Aziraphale takes the lead and holds his hand out for Crowley to take this time. Once Crowley’s hand is successfully entwined with his, Aziraphale determinedly leads them down the block before taking a sharp left. He almost misses the quiet inhale Crowley takes, and he glances over with a smile as recognition finally dawns in his demon’s eyes – behind the usual sunglasses, of course.
Together they walk into the small park and garden that used to be a church, demolished by an unfortunate bombing in World War II.
“I can’t believe they didn’t clear this out and rebuild,” Crowley remarks, admiring the flowers growing through the rubble where he remembers pulling Aziraphale’s books from.
“I guess the humans could feel its importance,” Aziraphale answers with a smile. “Have the renewals right in the same spot as the wedding, wouldn’t that be something? And the garden would make a beautiful background. Then, it’s only a few minutes drive back to the shop, and we can have a small reception there.” He turns to Crowley to see his answer, but Crowley is too focused on marveling at the plants in the garden. “No, you’re not allowed to yell at them for them to grow differently for the wedding,” Aziraphale warns.
“Wouldn’t dream of it, angel,” Crowley smiles. “This…”
“I always knew you were sentimental,” Aziraphale teases after a few minutes of silence as they walked around the rest of the park.
“Oh shut up,” Crowley complains, jostling Aziraphale’s shoulder with his own. “I still get to wear the dress, right?”
“Of course.”
“I’m gonna make a new one then, and you bet your angelic ass that it will look even better than the other one.”
Aziraphale tilts his head in doubt. “I really liked the first dress; I doubt you can top it.”
A devilish smile spreads across Crowley’s face. “I gladly accept your challenge, angel, and if I win, I want my prize to be dancing with you.”
“Sounds fair,” Aziraphale answers, certain he will win.
~~~
“Anathema and Newton responded dear,” Aziraphale calls, his voice echoing off of the mostly empty walls in Crowley’s flat. “They will be certain not to miss it. Anathema also offered to help with the flower arrangements, but I told her that it’s not necessary.”
“What kinds of flowers were you thinking, angel?” Crowley responds tiredly, taking the couch next to Aziraphale so that the echo stops.
“Well, since your invitation quite literally gave me every color in the rainbow to use, I did have some issues narrowing it down. Flower types I haven’t decided on yet, but I thought some grey flowers would provide some lovely symbolism. Grey flowers can’t be the only color though, and I don’t want to overdo it since it will be in a garden already, but we can’t have the only red being your hair, so we might benefit from some red flowers.”
“What’s wrong with ‘m hair?” he asks, leaning his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder so his hair is in Aziraphale’s face.
“Nothing,” he answers, shifting ever slightly to the side so Crowley’s hair isn’t blocking his vision anymore. “I love your hair.”
“Don’t lie to me,” Crowley mutters, only half awake now.
Aziraphale kisses the top of Crowley’s head and insists, “There is nothing wrong with your hair.”
“Mhmm,” Crowley mumbles, incapable of anything more intelligent. A few more seconds pass, and he falls asleep, a fact that Aziraphale can tell due to his light snoring. He smiles fondly and continues looking through his magazine, trying to find the right shade of red as he lets Crowley nap on his shoulder.
(Once he believes he can move without waking Crowley, he carefully leaves Crowley on the couch and goes over to his plants, whispering words of encouragement and praise to the poor things. The demon smiles despite himself as he pretends to still be asleep on the couch, hearing the occasional compliment drift in from Aziraphale. And if when Aziraphale comes back in, he falls asleep on the angel’s shoulder again so he thinks Crowley doesn’t know about the plant talking, well, no one else is there to know.)
~~~
“No. Absolutely not.” Aziraphale stands his ground against a drunk Crowley in the backroom of the bookshop. They are both drinking, sure, but Crowley has had more than Aziraphale, so Aziraphale still is in his right mind to decline such a thing.
“Oh come on,” Crowley protests, throwing his head back on the couch.
“We are not having peacocks at the wedding, Crowley!” Aziraphale replies adamantly.
“But the featherss,” he drawls, filling another glass of wine. “They’re sassy little birds. They’re my spirit animal.”
“I’m pretty sure your spirit animal is a snake, dear. I will certainly not accept any of your drunk suggestions, and I’m sure if you would sober up you will see how ridiculous of an idea that is.”
“Dolphins then,” Crowley offers. “They’re smart.”
“They’re fish. There isn’t a source of water close enough to the church.”
“Mammals,” Crowley throws back in a sing-song voice.
“Whatever they are, they still need water to breathe!”
Crowley’s silent for a while as he drinks his wine and Aziraphale thinks the conversation is over now, so he refills his own glass and takes a drink.
“Rabbits?” Crowley questions, unsure of himself.
Aziraphale sighs and answers, “If you really must insist on having an animal there other than the birds and insects that already live in the garden, we can ask Adam if Dog can be the ring bearer, but that is all.”
“Workss for me,” Crowley drawls before downing the rest of his glass.
~~~
It took quite a few miracles, both heavenly and demonic, to execute the vow renewal properly. To get the kids there, Crowley had to convince everyone’s parents to let them sleep over with Newt and Anathema, who would bring them over. Aziraphale threatens the clouds so that the weather is perfect (something that doesn’t pass without teasing from Crowley and more bickering between the two.) Crowley made sure that no one will wander in on the ceremony by closing the park for a couple of hours while they are going to be there, Aziraphale willed the decorations into perfection and persuaded a minister to oversee the vow exchange, and of course, Crowley had to make the dress.
Aziraphale changes his outfit for once, going for a solid black suit to contradict Crowley’s supposedly white dress. (Crowley tried to give him one of his to use, but Aziraphale insisted on getting a proper one so he could keep it.) He greets the handful of guests as they come in, because Crowley insisted that Aziraphale was to not see the dress until the ceremony. Now, as the speakers play Crazy Little Thing Called Love by Queen, and their friends sit in the chairs in front of him expectantly, his palms start to sweat. He feels nervous even though he has no reason to – he confessed his feelings for Crowley in the 1700s and married Crowley once already in the 1900s. He then realizes it’s not nervousness – it’s excitement. He can finally profess his love to Crowley, no matter where they are, no matter who they’re with. Heaven and Hell won’t do anything about it.
Dog comes running around the archway into the ceremony, wearing a little tuxedo, a pillow clutched in his mouth with the new rings tied onto it. He dutifully stops in front of Aziraphale, sitting down in the grass and waiting.
When Crowley steps into view in the archway behind everyone, and the few attendees rise, Aziraphale’s jaw drops. He hardly did anything to his hair – Aziraphale thinks he sees a little hair gel to keep it up. He still has his sunglasses on too, because he doesn’t want to freak the minister with his eyes. Nothing else about his outfit is normal for Crowley though – he’s stuffed his feet into a pair of white four-inch heels as if he needed to be even taller than Aziraphale. The white dress he’s wearing clings to his form and flares out at the bottom – Aziraphale vaguely remembers that it’s called a mermaid dress. The plunging neckline is surrounded by the dress straps that each look like a wing, feathers and all, which then cascade down into the dress, almost as if they are fluttering down but getting caught in the cloth.
Crowley also has with him a small bouquet of dark red roses and an enormous smirk.
“Looks like I won myself a dance,” he mutters when he reaches the front, and the music suddenly cuts out. Aziraphale can’t bring himself to disagree.
The minister runs through the standard lines he’s expected to say, before finally reaching the vows, which Aziraphale and Crowley wrote.
Aziraphale goes first – taking Crowley’s hands, he recites from memory while imbuing all the love he can think of into the words. “Crowley, I don’t know how I would have ever enjoyed my time on earth without you. Ever since we met, I knew there was something different about you. It took me a couple thousand years to realize I loved you, and another thousand or so to finally admit it. I never regretted a single moment with you, and I am more than happy to spend the rest of eternity with you, to help with your woes, to protect you from harm, and to always be there through thick and thin.”
Crowley spent a little more time on his vows, knowing something special on top of the dress would really give Aziraphale a day to remember. He clears his throat once it’s his turn and starts, “Aziraphale, my love, I shall always be here. Whether angel or demon need be disposed of, even if you like the dramas of Shakespeare. Since the Beginning, I knew you were the one, so I met with you at every opportunity. Anything you want, it shall be done, and nothing shall ever break this unity. From Eden to Rome, France to the United Kingdom, to stay by your side is all I needed. You bless me each day with all your wisdom, even if it seems I take it unheeded. Nothing in all the worlds can keep us apart; I love you with all my heart.”
Madame Tracy wipes her eyes in the crowd and Aziraphale looks like he’s holding tears back.
“Was that a Shakespearean sonnet?” Aziraphale comments, looking up to Crowley in awe.
“Maybe,” he answers with a wink.
The minister continues the ceremony and takes the pillow from Dog, letting Aziraphale and Crowley put the rings on each other. Crowley’s ring, slid onto his finger ever so gently by Aziraphale, is still silver, but now has a thin gold band in the middle of it. Aziraphale’s ring is the opposite, a band of silver running down the gold, carefully placed by Crowley.
“I now affirm that you have expressed your desire to remain spouses,” the minister says. “You may seal your vows with a kiss.”
Aziraphale smiles and stands on his tiptoes as Crowley reaches out to hold him up. Their faces bump together awkwardly as Crowley leans down and the small crowd laughs, causing Aziraphale to grow pink. Before he can react any further, Crowley closes the distance and presses their lips together, a brief but passionate kiss so the angel doesn’t feel embarrassed in front of everyone.
A cheer rings out from their friends and everyone starts clapping. Aziraphale, feeling energized from the cheering, presses another kiss to Crowley’s lips before dropping back down to stand normally. They get lost in each other’s eyes for a few seconds as they share over six thousand years of love in a single gaze; brought back to the present as Dog yips excitedly and darts around their feet.
~~~
Aziraphale and Crowley drive back to the bookstore in the Bentley, leaving the rest of the wedding party in the dust as they all head for the bookshop. (“I only drive two speeds angel, fast, and extra fast.”) That gives them enough time to get in the door and perform another couple of small miracles to make the room a little bigger so there’s enough space for everyone, and for the dancing.
Anathema, Newt, and the kids are the first to arrive, the latter beelining for the snacks and drinks Aziraphale was currently eating from. Madame Tracy and Mr. Shadwell arrive a few minutes later. Crowley, who insists on wearing the heels until the day is done, double checks that the sign is turned to closed before picking a vinyl out of Aziraphale's lofty collection and placing it on the old-fashioned phonograph. He’s mildly surprised to hear classical music instead of Freddie Mercury before remembering only the Bentley does that.
“May I have this dance?” he asks after walking over to Aziraphale, offering his hand.
Aziraphale, delighted and nervous, smiles as he takes the proffered hand and answers, “Always.”
Crowley leads him to the center of the dancing space and pulls Aziraphale’s arm down to his hip, then places his own arm on Aziraphale’s shoulder and entwining their other hands together. All they do is sway back and forth in a circle because Aziraphale doesn’t know how to dance, but they find the rest of the partygoers copying them not long after. Anathema and Newt, Mr. Shadwell and Madame Tracy – the kids had a small argument about who got to dance with who but it ultimately ended up being Adam with Wensleydale and Pepper with Brian.
Aziraphale radiates joy as he and Crowley sway back and forth; an infectious joy that causes Crowley to smile and place a kiss on the top of Aziraphale’s head. Aziraphale leans in and lays his head on Crowley’s chest, and for the rest of the song, they forget about the world, about Heaven, about Hell – it’s just the two of them, together.
When the song finally ends Aziraphale breaks out of his trance and starts to pull away, but Crowley doesn’t let him. He still has one more surprise up his non-existent sleeve. With a snap of his fingers the next song changes to something bright and upbeat, and Crowley says, “It’s time!”
Everyone lines up together, and somehow Aziraphale’s joy grows even more as they all start to dance the gavotte. Crowley had spent many restless nights studying the dance to learn it himself, but the tricky part was meeting up with everyone a few times to rehearse it and make sure they had it down.
At the end of the dance, Crowley and Aziraphale hold each other in their arms, catching their breath. Then, in a flash, Aziraphale holds Crowley under him in a dip as he kisses him passionately, audience be damned. (Not literally. He would never wish such a thing on his friends.) When Crowley finally regains the ability to do anything other than let Aziraphale hold and kiss him, which is to say, when Aziraphale stops kissing him, he squeezes Aziraphale in a tight hug and lifts him off of his feet, spinning in a circle before setting him down again and whispering, “I love you, angel.”
With a joyful smile, Aziraphale answers, “I love you too, dear.”