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Sussex, 1123
With just a few fluffy white clouds drifting across the sky, warm sunlight soothed Crowley’s aches. He reclined on the grass, pouring drinks. “Perfect day, eh?”
“Quite.” Aziraphale laid out cheese, berries, and bread on a cloth beside them. “I’m so glad it’s not raining.”
“Me too.” Storms worsened Crowley’s pain, and he had enough of that already. “So. So. Any plans later?”
“None.” Beaming, Aziraphale took a cup of wine. “Although, I must say you seem sore today.”
Crowley shrugged. “Sore every day, aren’t I?”
“Well, perhaps I could help.” Aziraphale wiggled his fingers. “How about a massage?”
“Gosh, really?”
“Why not?”
“I didn’t say no, did I?” They helped each other all the time, even though they weren’t supposed to. Crowley still hadn’t expected this. “Just surprised me, s’ all. Is it appropriate for an angel to give massages?”
Aziraphale frowned, looking at Crowley like he’d accidentally turned into a snake without noticing. “Of course it’s appropriate. You’re my husband.”
Crowley’s mind crashed into that statement like a duck into a frozen pond. “I’m what? Since when?”
“For… Oh, let me see.” Still frowning, Aziraphale dropped his gaze to the flowers waving in a light breeze. “One hundred and three years, I believe.”
“One hundred and…” Maybe Crowley was imagining this, thanks to the wine. Except no, he’d only drank one cup. “Do you mean the start of our little Arrangement?”
“Unless you can think of some other vitally important event that year.”
“We got besieged somewhere, I think,” Crowley said vaguely. “No other events I really remember. But. Married?”
“We held hands and kissed and promised our mutual aid for all eternity.” Now Aziraphale looked upset, like Crowley was being willfully obtuse. “You proposed to me!”
“Pretty sure I didn’t. I mean, I just asked if you wanted to be partners.” Oh. Head spinning, Crowley pulled off his sunglasses and rubbed his eyes. “Whoa. Okay. I see where you got the idea.”
“You don’t want to be married to me?” Aziraphale’s lip trembled. He swallowed hard, then turned away. “Well. I do apologize for the misunderstanding. You’re my very dearest friend, and I hope this doesn’t change—”
“Nonono, hold up!” Flinging his sunglasses to the grass, Crowley grabbed Aziraphale’s hand. “That’s not true.”
Aziraphale arched an eyebrow and raised his chin. “If you’re about to assert that you’re not my very dearest friend, I shall lodge a complaint.”
“No. No. Definitely not asserting that.”
In the beginning, he and Aziraphale wouldn’t have chosen each other’s company. But after all these years together, they were best friends. It was perfect.
Or at least, it was perfect as far as Crowley was concerned. But what about Aziraphale? What did he want?
“It’s not that I don’t wanna be married to you.” After a deep breath, Crowley pushed on. “But I dunno if we’re on the same page about what that means.”
Aziraphale’s shoulders relaxed, but the confused frown remained. “The past one hundred and three years seem to have gone quite well.”
“Right. Right. They did.” The past century or so had been the best years of Crowley’s existence. He and Aziraphale saw each other all the time now, thanks to the Arrangement. “But I don’t, er…”
He hesitated. He’d never tried to put this into words before. Honestly, he’d never really thought about it.
Aziraphale tilted his head, waiting. The attention made Crowley’s heart race, but he owed his angel an explanation.
“Okay. Okay.” Crowley downed another cup of wine. “Okay.”
He ground his teeth. Aziraphale blinked at him.
“Feelings are really weird and stuff,” Crowley said eloquently.
“Ah.” The baffled frown on Aziraphale’s face got even more baffled. “I suppose they are.”
“Yeah. And you know how there’s all sorts of… expectations around marriage.” Crowley gulped. “Y’know. Things.”
“Ah,” Aziraphale said again, and this time it was the “ah” of enlightenment. “You’re concerned because we haven’t consummated our marriage. Would you like to do it now?”
Crowley, who had been taking another swig of wine for courage, choked. He succumbed to a coughing fit, and Aziraphale thumped him on the back. Thumping did not help with either the coughing or the aches.
After recovering, Crowley waved his hands. “Nonono, that’s the opposite of my point. My point is. Is. My point is, I don’t wanna consummate. That whole thingy sounds messy and stuff.”
“Then why did you bring it up?”
“Because I don’t, er, I don’t think I’m into that.” Crowley braced, stomach twisting. “And you are, right? I just don’t wanna disappoint you.”
“Oh, goodness. You silly old serpent.” Smiling warmly, Aziraphale took Crowley’s hand again. “I wouldn’t have been opposed to trying it if it was something you wanted, but I have no particular interest in that sort of intimacy.”
“Phew, okay.” Which still left one problem. “One more thing. Love stories.”
Aziraphale brightened. “I like love stories.”
“I know,” Crowley said miserably.
“Oh, I see. Do you think that I aspire to grand, sweeping romance with all sort of passionate declarations and equally passionate feelings?” Aziraphale asked. Crowley nodded. “Well, as a matter of fact, I don’t. I prefer what we have.”
Relief nearly knocked Crowley over. “Really? You’re really happy with things just like this?”
“I most certainly am. This is perfect.” Aziraphale beamed at him. “We support each other, have an absolutely splendid time together, and enjoy sharing the wonders of this world. What could be better?”
“Gosh.” Grinning, Crowley squeezed Aziraphale’s hand. “Hey. You know what would make it even more perfect?”
“Hmm, it would have to be something quite spectacular. Our life has a very high degree of perfection already.”
Crowley could think of a few things that would improve their lives—such as not having to report to Heaven and Hell anymore—but he wanted one particular thing right now. “Wanna hug? I mean, I know we’ve hugged before, a bit. But not often. We can hug as much as we like if we’re married, eh?”
“Oh goodness, yes.” Aziraphale gave a little wiggle. “Come here, dear boy.”
He immediately hauled Crowley into a tight, almost crushing hug. Crowley closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around Aziraphale’s soft middle. His whole body protested being squeezed, his muscles aching, but he didn’t care. Hugging was worth a few more aches.
But when Aziraphale tightened his hold even more, Crowley grunted. Aziraphale immediately loosened his grip. “Oh, I’m sorry. Too tight?”
“Yeah, a bit. Achy today.” But wow, Aziraphale was warm, warmer than the sun.
Lying beside him would probably be terrific for easing pain. Maybe they could test that theory later at the inn. They always shared a room and a bed when traveling together anyway. And this time, it would be as husbands.
Crowley found that he liked the sound of the word. Their relationship differed from a lot of marriages, but that didn’t matter. They were happy.
“Do we have to do anything?” he asked, pulling back. Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. “To finalize the marriage, I mean. We shook hands on the Arrangement. Should we do that again?”
“Somehow, I don’t know that shaking hands has quite the right intensity.” Chuckling, Aziraphale shook his hand anyway. “Another kiss, perhaps? We did that too.”
“Oh yeah.” They’d done that a handful of times. It was a common way to seal deals, and they’d used it for the Arrangement. “Sure, sounds terrific.”
He and Aziraphale briefly pressed their lips together in a light, careful kiss. Then, without actually discussing it, they lay down side by side in the grass, pressed comfortably together.
Well, mostly comfortably. Crowley grunted, shifting his legs. It didn’t help with the aches.
“I do still want to give you a nice massage later,” Aziraphale said. “Perhaps after our snacks, we ought to proceed to the village? I understand there’s some sort of spring celebration taking place. We could get a room and stay there to avoid all the people.”
Crowley snorted. “You love celebrations.”
“Well, yes. But I love being with you far more.” Aziraphale beamed at him. “And I feel that we ought to have some time to ourselves now that we’re officially married.”
Leaning over, Crowley pressed a slow, lingering kiss to Aziraphale’s brow. “Who am I to argue with my husband?”
“You always argue with me.”
“Yeah, and you love it.” Crowley snuggled against Aziraphale’s warmth and draped an arm across his belly. “We could do more of this. And have that massage. You could even read to me for a bit.”
“Ooh, that sounds so lovely.” Aziraphale gave a dreamy, contented sigh. “I’m so happy to be with you, Crowley. You’re very important to me.”
Smiling, Crowley closed his eyes. “Me too.”
That was what it came down to, after all. No matter the nature of their feelings, he and Aziraphale were important to each other. And what could possibly be more perfect than that?