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"It's a trap. Or a joke." Dagon stared at the invitation, gilt edged and embossed with clouds on its pure ivory surface. There was a missing corner where they'd made a disposable demon chew it to check for holy water. "At least it's not very funny."
There was murmured agreement. Demons instinctively distrusted jokes that had humour rather than pain and mayhem.
"I don't even know what they see in each other," Hastur grumbled.
"It'zzz an inzzult. They juzt want attention."
"This whole new era of cooperation between Heaven and Hell was your idea, my lord."
"We're not going to their bloody wedding." Ze tipped zir head on one side, flies buzzing furiously. "I'm having my own. Same time. We will invite everybody. Zee who getzz more attention."
"Who are you marrying, my lord?" Ligur had been more quiet than usual since he got better, but his lizard's eyes gleamed.
"Her."
It was hardly a romantic proposal, but Dagon's teeth gleamed like two rows of very sharp diamonds.
"It's a trap. Or a joke." Crowley tossed two invitations on Aziraphale's desk. One smouldered gently.
"What is? Oh. The Archangels Gabriel and Sandalphon invite you to their wedding... Well, really. Gabriel accused me of having a gut!"
"You do have a gut."
"That's uncalled for. I might be getting a little well-padded after six millennia..."
"Nyaaaaurghmlikeyrrrrghgut," muttered Crowley. "Soft."
Aziraphale turned cherry red and pretended not to hear. "Prince Beelzebub and Underduke Dagon require your presence at... Oh, dear. Do you think they coordinated?"
"They're going to destroy us. They're going to bless the champagne and heat the chocolate fountain with hellfire. They... Aziraphale, are you upset?"
"No," sniffled Aziraphale, unangelically.
Crowley looked limp suddenly, a snake whose spine had been removed and was now more of a worm. "You don't have feelings for that bastard, do you? Any of the bastards?"
"No! It's just... six thousand years, and... they just go and rub my face in why I can't have you..."
It was one of those moments in which two people realise what had just been said, and the world teeters for just a moment, wondering if it's going to go in a completely different direction.
"What," Crowley said, very carefully, "gave you the impression you can't have me?"
"Some of them might've showed up." Gabriel nibbled on ambrosia, which tasted depressingly like communion wafers. "So much for a new era of cooperation. It's an important state marriage, if I do say so myself."
"We didn't send anyone to their wedding," said Sandalphon, radiant in his bridal gown, and too happy to care.
"Certainly not! Heaven knows what the cake would be made of,* and I can't abide all that Queen."
"What do you think?" Dagon revolved slowly in a mermaid wedding dress. The paperwork frills were frothed with blood.
Beelzebub grabbed her. "I do."
On Earth, a demon and an angel were too busy consummating to care.
* This was a lie, as Heaven didn't know. Actually, it was fruitcake.