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They had settled down for the evening, a bottle of wine between them and their wings stretched out to be taken care of.
It had become a little ritual of sorts at some point after Crowley had suggested preening Aziraphale's wings the first time, when he had noticed in what a sorry state the feathers were. The demon had scolded the angel nearly the entire time, that as someone who took such meticulous care of his hands and nails, his wings were a pure mess in comparison. Upon which Aziraphale had replied that it simply was nicer if someone else did it for him.
After that, Crowley didn't miss a chance to pamper his angel that way, especially because Aziraphale returned the gesture every time. And it was indeed nicer if someone else took care of your wings for you, Crowley thought. It left time to relax and relish in the feeling of those careful touches, and the fact that eventually Aziraphale's hands would always wander to stroke through his hair, sometimes even braid it while humming a little melody, now that it was growing longer again.
“Have you ever thought about rings?“, Aziraphale mused at some point, a strand of Crowley's hair wound around his fingers.
“Hwat?”, the demon mumbled, his mind slowly coming back to him from very nearly falling asleep during the preening and hair petting.
“Rings, my dear”, Aziraphale repeated, the little smirk on his face almost audible in his voice.
Another moment passed, before Crowley finally replied, a small laugh in his voice, “Rings as in what? Wedding rings?” The idea sounded silly to him.
“Why, yes. Kind of, at least”, came the answer and Crowley frowned in disbelief for a few moments. They didn't have any actual need or reason to get married, and it baffled him that Aziraphale seemed to have thought about it nonetheless. Crowley himself had never given that thought much contemplation – he was satisfied with their relationship as it was, finally free to be around each other as much as they liked and if he was honest he didn't need much more to be perfectly content. What would they need an overrated human ritual for?
“Really?”, he asked eventually, turning to meet Aziraphale's gaze. He wanted to know his reasoning for that thought, now that it had been mentioned. The angel gave him a little smile and ran a hand through his hair once more. The touch nearly made Crowley melt into a puddle all over again – Aziraphale knew exactly what he liked by now.
“Yes. I mean … I'm aware we don't get any benefits out of it, but I quite like the gesture of wedding rings. Very sweet, if you ask me”
Crowley couldn't help but the hints of a smile appearing on his face at that. Of course Aziraphale would appreciate the idea, now that he came to think of it. Weddings were, if you looked at them from a modern point of view, a ridiculously sappy display of affection. And Aziraphale liked that kind of thing, as Crowley had found out with time.
“Sounds like you've spent some thoughts on it already?”
Aziraphale laughed silently, shrugging slightly at the question. “I did. I think I found something that works better for us than all those ceremonies, though – since, well, I know you wouldn't like those. With the church and all”
While he was speaking, he reached up to his wings and carefully pulled one of the pristine, white feathers out of it. Crowley watched him as he took his hand, and gently wrapped the feather around his finger – it changed the second its ends met, melting into a proper ring in a heartbeat.
The ring shimmered in opalescent colours in the dim light, rainbows scattering across the bright surface with every movement. The moment it had formed, it had felt white-hot on Crowley's skin, but it immediately started to cool until merely a few seconds later it had the perfect temperature – just a little warmer than his own skin, so he noticed it was there. It felt comfortable and incredibly familiar, just like Aziraphale was touching him right where the material lay on his finger.
He looked at it in awe, taking in the ever changing little details of the piece of jewellery. At one moment it looked like a bunch of feathers swirled lightly though the material like being chased around by gentle breeze. At another, when there was just slightly more shadow, like cream mixing with dark tea to create little swirls and patterns, or dust motes dancing around in a beam of light in the bookshop. It was mesmerizing, and Crowley started to slowly realize what it actually was he was wearing on his hand.
It wasn't just a feather.
It was a small part of Aziraphale's essence, encased in this small, bright band around his finger. A gift and a promise that said I'm Yours; And You're Mine. A slightly strangled noise escaped Crowley's throat.
“My dear?”, Aziraphale's voice slowly drifted to him and Crowley's eyes snapped up to meet the angel's. A soft smile appeared on Aziraphale's face at Crowley's expression, who had some trouble to hold back tears coming to his eyes from the rush of emotions he felt. This was more than just a simple romantic gesture. It was an absolutely overwhelming expression of trust that Crowley had never thought would happen.
This was by far better than what he had suspected when wedding rings had been mentioned – And it made him reel and struggle to not just turn into a literal heap of goo. It felt like he could discorporate out of sheer happiness at that very moment.
Aziraphale waited patiently, until Crowley regained his composure and shifted one of his wings so he could pull out one of his own dark feathers. His hands were shaking terribly, but he managed to gently wrap the feather around his angel's finger without dropping it.
The ring was almost the complete opposite to what Aziraphale had gifted him – it shone like a fire where light hit it: red and orange and yellow, blue and white at the very center of it, like the hottest flame in existence. In the shadows, bright dots danced on it's surface, like galaxies slowly turning and twisting in space.
“It's beautiful”, Aziraphale mumbled reverently, taking in the details of the dark ring, “You are beautiful”
He looked up at Crowley at those last words, knowing very well that this small thing was a piece of his loved one's soul. He reached out and gently cupped Crowley's face with his hands, pulling him in for a kiss, light but immeasurably loving, another unspoken promise on his lips.
Crowley could feel where the ring touched his cheek – it was cool and he was sure it must have felt like biting cold ice when it had first touched Aziraphale's skin, just like Aziraphale's had felt like fire on his.
Two rings, forged from the brightest, hottest light, and from the darkest, coldest void. Pieces of their very being for the other one to cherish and for no one else to touch.
Crowley was almost certain that if literally anyone else tired to wear either of these, it would burn the flesh from their bones and turn their fingers blue from frostbite.
Like a little insurance that they were each others, and only each others, for as long as they existed.