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It’s a Thursday afternoon and they’re sitting at a cafe. Crowley likes this cafe in particular because they offer boozy coffee. He’s enjoying his cup and thinking that he needs to thank the Irish more often when the cafe owner stops at their table.
Claire is a tall woman, with a neatly cut bob and sharp eyeliner. She always talks a lot to her heaviest drinking customers; so she chats with Crowley and Aziraphale often. “Any dessert? I just baked up a raspberry chocolate ganache tart. This one came out just heavenly.”
Aziraphale’s mouth has been watering since the word ‘dessert’. “Oh well then that is a must.” he answers.
Crowley’s eyes leave angel’s direction for the first time in a better part of an hour to lazily look over at Claire while he speaks. “Cut us two of those, we’re celebrating.” He says it almost every time they go anywhere because human shopkeepers have a habit of sending an extra round of anything, usually top-shelf alcohol, when they think you’re celebrating something.
“Oh! An anniversary, I’m assuming?” Claire looks between the both of them with a bright smile. It falters as she looks at their hands. “Perhaps not, I see no rings… I’ve always thought you two were partners.”
Crowley scrunches his nose in her direction.
“We are together!” Aziraphale clarifies. “We are an…us.” He takes Crowley’s hand in his from across the table and the demon gives him a gentle squeeze in return. Crowley is still staring in Claire’s direction. He still finds it hard to believe how nosy and assumptious humans can almost constantly be. “We just don’t really think the whole sacrament of marriage is all that necessary, given some of our particular circumstances.”
Claire scoffs. “Why, because of your age?!”
Crowley’s eyes grow wide.
“Because that’s an awful excuse. What if anything happens to either one of you? There will be no paperwork of where all of your belongings are to go.”
“Darling, if something that dire happens to either one of us, there will be plenty of paperwork.” Crowley responds as if she is to understand.
“I think we’re just celebrating this lovely day and your scrumptious food!” Aziraphale says, hands emphasizing his words in an attempt to redirect the conversation.
Claire gives them one more look, still lingering on Crowley’s odd comment. “Of course.” then sets off to get them dessert.
Aziraphale gives Crowley a knowing look. The more social within the neighborhood they’ve become, the more questions they get thrown at them. He goes to pull it hand out of Crowley’s but the demon keeps him in place. He lifts the angel’s hand to his lips and softly kisses it. Their hands settle back down on the table.
Aziraphale is still blushing when dessert is served.
++
Aziraphale is writing some notes in his inventory ledger later the next night when his quiet is interrupted by the sound of metal pieces hitting and spinning against his wood desk.
“Here.” Crowley announces.
Aziraphale glances towards two rings making their final spins before coming to lie flat a few inches from him. One silver, one gold. He picks up the golden one, inspecting it for a moment. It’s a simple band and he can tell it's real gold. The silver one is hammered, a little thicker. They don’t seem to have any intention of matching or being a pair. “And what are these for?” he asks. His eyes looking over his glasses and up at Crowley, who’s come to lean against the desk in front of the right side of Aziraphale’s chair. He takes off his sunglasses and smirks as he catches the angel sneak a quick drag of his eyes up and down his figure.
“They’re wedding bands. Picked them up at the pawn shop. Figured we could wear ‘em and lie to your nosy shopkeeper friends when they’re getting too comfortable with conversation.” He takes the silver one from where it’s still lying on the desk and puts it on his fourth finger, left hand. He flexes his hand a few times to get used to the feeling of the cool metal. He can’t recall the last time he wore any jewelry around his hands, if he even ever had.
Aziraphale puts on a pout. “I hate to lie to them.”
Crowley barks a laugh. “Right! You’ve always been very straight with them!” He adjusts his pitch to mimic the angel. “Nooo, I’m so very, very sorry Nina, we actually don’t carry any copies of Hamlet. We do rather stick to the more popular customer choices.” His point is emphasized while he saunters over to a shelf filled with multitudes of Shakespeare’s published and unpublished works. There’s a copy of Hamlet in every transcribable language. Without breaking eye contact with Aziraphale, he plucks one off the shelf at random and points to the large text across the front.
The angel can’t help but grimace at both being proven wrong and the fact that Crowley pulled out the teal cover copy. “Careful! William signed that one for me himself.”
“Could’ve signed me a copy too, hm?” Crowley turns and gently places the book back in its place. “Owes me his career, that one.” He mutters.
Aziraphale brings their attention back to the rings. He lets out a defeated sigh. “I think it’s fine.” He smiles, putting the ring on his right index finger. It’s a little big, so it miracles it to fit. “Plus, we’ll have something matching!”
Crowley can’t help a half-smile slip at the sight of the beaming angel sitting in front of him. He beckons a nod in his own direction. “C’mere. You’ve got it on the wrong finger.”
Aziraphale stands and makes his way towards Crowley, looking down at his fingers. He flips his hands up and down.
“There’s a particular finger it fits on?” He’s more than familiar with the sacrament of marriage, all of the prayers and ceremony that goes on, but with so many cultures doing their own thing over the centuries he’s found it hard to keep track of the new trends.
Crowley stops him in his tracks with a gentle hand on his chest. He takes one of the angel’s hands in his. “Yeah and we should keep up with modern appearances. We’re trying to alleviate the excessive questions, not welcome more. ” Aziraphale can almost hear the eye roll in his voice.
“Humans have silly little names for their digits. Do you know them, then?” Crowley has Aziraphale's palms in his, looking down at the angel’s hand and giving each finger a tender rub with his own.
While he revels in the demon’s touches, Aziraphale is completely focused on Crowley’s focus on his fingers. He’s quite giddy with all the attention he’s getting from him. “Hm?” he sounds as if in a bit of a trance when he answers. He takes a deep breath, eyes still on Crowley, and the question finally settles. “Oh, er- no. Not entirely. I know we have most of the human equipment, but we both know it's mostly for show. I didn’t spend much time memorizing all the odds and ends of them.”
“Well, you should know a few of the terms, you have spent a few millennia in this sort of body.”
“You know all their silly names?”
Crowley is still holding Aziraphale’s hand.
“I do.”
Aziraphale is still only paying attention to the yellow of Crowley’s eyes. Crowley spares a glance up towards Aziraphale’s gaze. It makes him half nervous. “Right. So. Fingers. First off,” He holds up Aziraphale’s left hand. “Left hand, side of the heart.” He tugs on each one as he explains. “Thumb, used predominantly for hitching a hide. Pointer, used predominantly for er, well, pointing generally, middle…” He lets out a devilish grin. “Show that one to Gabriel next time he’s round, he’ll be impressed.” Skipping over the next finger he continues. “Pinkie. Not sure what that name’s all about, I mean I’ve never seen one pinker than the others.” He takes the gold band and slips it on Aziraphale’s finger. “Ring finger.” he says, satisfied.
Aziraphale stretches out his hand, admiring it. He’s beaming and his words drift out dreamily. “Oh, it looks lovely.”
He looks down at Crowley’s hand. The silver band is already adorning the demon’s left ring finger. “That was nice.I want to put yours on you.”
“You want me to take my ring off and have you put it back on me, on the same finger it’s currently on?”
Aziraphale takes Crowley’s hands in his.
“I do.”
He’s not sure why he’s even asked. He would literally stop the end of the world, stop time itself for the angel. The absolute least he would do tonight would be to indulge him for a moment.
He takes off his band and places it in Aziraphale’s open palm. The angel gives him the same gentle treatment of holding his left hand and slipping the ring right back into place. He smiles as Aziraphale lets out a breathy, satisfied laugh.
“Alright!” Crowley exclaims, pulling his angel in closer by his vest. “Now I think we deserve an enormously boozy and quiet honeymoon period.” He smiles into their kiss.