Death had been created by God, in a fit of pique, on the very day that Crowley and Aziraphale had first met on the wall in The Garden. He was neither of Heaven nor of Hell. He was called Azrael, the Angel of Death, and he was called Charron, ferryman of the River Styx (have your tickets ready, fare two silvers.) The Hebrews called him Abbadon. To the Greeks,he wasThanatos. He had many names, and he was present in nearly every theology across the world. He was always present. He was everywhere. That was kind of the whole point.

He'd even been to his fair share of weddings , but this was the first he'd ever attended by invitation.

The grim specter of Death covered the mortal worldthe same way that theozone layer did—excepting that the more the one depleted, the more the otherwas clocking in the overtime.

He'd been here since the beginning. He'd be the last one here at the end—turning out the lights and locking up the doors. He was tired. He was overworked. And, he was supposed to haveretired more than twelve years ago.

Still, for all that the mortals might fear him, might consider him evil, he didn't serve Hell. And, while he was still technically an angel, he didn't serve Heaven. He served the balance in a way that perhaps only God had the capacity to understand. His function could be cruel, but it could also be merciful.

He'd been neutral before it was cool.

So, when Crowley and Aziraphale had gotten down to the complicated business of planning a morally neutral, religious, wedding ceremony, Death had been the obvious choice to officiate.

It had taken another visit to a hospice center, and more than a little convincing, but here they were.

"DEARLY BELOVED, WE ARE GATHERED HERE TODAY IN THE SIGHT OF GOD AND LUCIFER TO JOIN CROWLEY, SERPENT OF THE GARDEN, AND AZIRAPHALE, GAURDIAN OF THE EASTERN GATE, IN THE BONDS OF MATRIMONY.

"IF ANYONE CAN SHOW JUST CAUSE WHY THEY SHOULD NOT BE JOINED TOGETHER, LET THEM SPEAK NOW OR FOREVER HOLD THEIR PEACE."

Death paused for a moment.

Then another moment.

The wedding party shifted uneasily.

An obliging cricket resonated its disinterest in the proceedings.

Crowley turned the full force of his glare, unmitigated by the filter of tinted lenses, upon the Angel of Death.

"JUST MAKING SURE," Death said. He made a noise like crumbling gravestones from somewhere in the vicinity of his C4 vertebrae, in an approximation of clearing his throat. "CROWLEY AND AZIRAPHALE, IF IT IS YOUR DESIRE TO TAKE THE VOWS THAT WILL UNITE YOU IN A BOND OF MARRIAGE AT THIS TIME, PLEASE RESPOND, 'IT IS.'"

Aziraphale let out a quavering breath, and smiled softly at Crowley. "It is."

Crowley got lost in his angel's regard and didn't say anything at all.

"Crowley," Aziraphaleprompted.

"Hmm?" He suddenly remembered where he was and what he was supposed to be doing, and said. "Yeah. Sure. Course. It's why we're all here, isn't it?"

If Death had had eyes to roll, they would have been spinning in their sockets. "DO YOU, CROWLEY, TAKE AZIRAPHALE TO BE YOUR LAWFULLY WEDDED SPOUSE? FROM THIS DAY FORWARD, TO HAVE AND TO HOLD, IN GOOD TIMES AND BAD, THROUGH ALL THE DAYS OF THIS EARTH, AND WHATEVER SHOULD COME AFTER?"

"I do," Crowley said in a harsh whisper, blinking his eyes rapidly a few times. He wasn't crying. Really. Yeshua had just stolen his sunglasses, and the light was bothering his eyes.

"DO YOU, AZIRAPHALE, TAKE CROWLEY TO BE YOUR LAWFULLY WEDDED SPOUSE? FROM THIS DAY FORWARD, TO HAVE AND TO HOLD, IN GOOD TIMES AND BAD, THROUGH ALL THE DAYS OF THIS EARTH, AND WHATEVER SHOULD COME AFTER?"

Aziraphale cried freely as his face melted into that special, soft smile that was only reserved for Crowley. "Oh, yes, I do. Very much so."

"CROWLEY, PLEASE TAKE THE RING THAT YOU HAVE SELECTED FOR AZIRAPHALE. AS YOU PLACE IT ON HIS FINGER, REPEAT AFTER ME: 'WITH THIS RING, I THEE WED.'"

There was some patting of pockets, as Yeshua frantically searched for the ring, until Adam gave it to him and he passed it to Crowley. Crowley's hands were shaking, and he nearly dropped the ring as he fumbled the band onto Aziraphale's finger. Of course, it didn't want to slide on at first and Crowley had to give it a little nudge of magic until it was comfortably seated at the base of Aziraphale's finger.

"You have to say the words, my dear," Aziraphale whispered.

"Ah, right," Crowley mumbled. He'd turned slightly pink with embarrassment and cleared his throat."With this ring, I thee wed."

"AZIRAPHALE, PLEASE TAKE THE RING THAT YOU HAVE SELECTED FOR CROWLEY. AS YOU PLACE IT ON HIS FINGER, REPEAT AFTER ME: 'WITH THIS RING, I THEE WED.'"

Adam handed the ring to Aziraphaleand Crowley extended his hand. "The other one, dear." Aziraphale corrected gently, and Crowley was practically radiating embarrassed discomfort as Aziraphale slipped the ring onto his finger. "With this ring, I thee wed."

"IN SO MUCH AS THE TWO OF YOU HAVE CONSENTED IN WEDLOCK, AND HAVE WITNESSED THE SAME BEFORE ALL THE POWERS HERE ASSEMBLED, BY THE AUTHORITY VESTED IN ME BY MYSELF, I NOW PRONOUNCE YOU HUSBANDS."

There was a moment of silence.

"YOU CAN GO AHEAD AND KISS NOW."

"Didn't need your permission," Crowley grumbled, with an agitated ruffle of his wings.

Aziraphalegrabbed Crowley by the lapels and pulled him forward.

He let out an, "Oomph," as their lips met, and then the rest of the world melted away.

They were in their own little bubble, outside of time and space. It was just Crowley and Aziraphale, lips, and hands, and feathers, and the litany of husbandhusbandhusbandhusbandhusband, repeating endlessly through the static that Crowley's mind had become.

Someone cleared their throat.

One of Aziraphale's hands clutched tightly into the back of Crowley's jacket, while the other was fisted into his hair. He'd stopped breathing, and just clung to Crowley like he was the only thing left in the whole, wide breadth of creation.

This was his. Crowley was his now, and there was nothing that Heaven or Hell could ever do again to try to separate them. They were irrevocably one, tied in matrimonyby the grace of God and the indulgence of Lucifer. They were safe. They were together. They were married.

Adam coughed. "Uh, guys? Want to at least keep it rated PG? There are kids here."

The bubble popped.

Aziraphale looked sheepish, and Crowley was smiling smugly as they pulled apart.

The recessional music started. The assorted guests clapped their hands. Freddie Mercury let out a wolf-whistle.

Crowley and Aziraphale exchanged a triumphant look. Crowley held out his hand and quirked an eyebrow, questioning. They hadn't planned to do it, and they didn't need to discuss it now. Aziraphale took his hand, and they ran down the aisle, wings beating at the air to drive their momentum forward, until the soared low over the tents and landed before the Bentley.

They huffed out a few breaths at the exertion, exchanged a look, and both burst into laughter.

"We were supposed to do a reception line," Aziraphale said, once he'd finally gotten control of the burst of relieved laughter.

"A what?"

"A reception line. We stand at the back and thank everyone for coming, and accept their congratulations and well wishes."

"Oh," Crowley looked back over his shoulder. "Did you want to do that?"

"Not at all."

Crowley nodded. "Great. We're skipping it then."

Aziraphale let out another nervous giggle. "This isn't going to plan at all."

"Fuck the plan. We're hijacking the plan."

"It's our plan. It's our wedding."

"No one should mind then." Crowley disappeared his wings from the mortal plane, and rounded the Bentley.

The Them had been delegated the task of decorating the getaway car. 'JUST MARRIED,' had been painted across its back window, and a few streamers of cans had been attached to the back bumper.

This had seemed easy enough, when Adam had entrusted the job to them, but the strange love-triangle that was the Bentley, the Citroen, and the Wasabi, made it difficult to concentrate over the cacophony of music and Japanese poetry. But, as soon as they had finished, the Bentley had fallen silent, as though the seriousness of the occasion had finally registered, and the other two cars followed suit.

There would be more time for courting, once the Bentley had fulfilled its duties.

Crowley paused, examining the decorations, trying to decide what he thought about the changes. He glanced back up to Aziraphale, straightening his coat after miraclingaway his own wings, and then back down at the big letters that said JUST MARRIED.

"Hey, angel?"

"Yes, dear?"

"We just got married."

Aziraphale smiled. "I'd noticed."

"Right, just… we're married."

"We are."

Crowley shook his head in disbelief. "Just married."

"Yes."

"Fuck me," Crowley huffed out in an amazed breath, as he continued to the driver's door.

"Oh, I intend to," Aziraphale said, " but first we have to cut the cake."

Crowley's head snapped back up at that, and their eyes met over the Bentley's roof. "We could take a detour," he suggested, canting his head the side to give Aziraphalea questioning look.

Aziraphale considered. "I suppose there is time, what with skipping the reception line, and if we are hijacking our own wedding…"

Crowley smirked. "Is that a, temptation accomplished, then?"

"I think it is," Aziraphaleanswered, "husband."

"Get in the car, angel."

The Bentley started before Crowley had even touched the key. Whatever it had going on in its own existence, Freddie had been right. Today was important to Crowley, and The Bentley was going to do everything in its not inconsiderable power to make sure that it was every bit the car that Crowley believed it to be.

Maybe it wasn't driving through the burning fires of Odegra, or sliming demons in a flight from the very pits of Hell, or slamming headlong into a resurrected carnivore from the Middle Jurassic, but when you were just married, driving back in style from Battersea Park to The Ritz, with a slight detour along the way, could top them all.

The Bentley settled on Now I'm Here for a bit of mood music.Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy would come later, as it always inevitably did. But, for now, it was just the three of them, the crowded streets of their city spread out before them, and a whole lot of traffic laws to ignore.

Don't I love you so
Yes, you made me live again
Come on! Everybody!

Yeah, ooh, a thin moon me in a smoke-screen sky
Where beams of your lovelight chase
Don't move, don't speak, don't feel no pain
With the rain running down my face