Wedding Plans
Crowley had given up his flat, but Hell kept sending messengers there and terrifying the new tenants, so he took it back. He hadn't been comfortable doing Hell's business in the bookshop anyway. Aziraphale liked the time away from the store, especially during sale weekends. The pair were in the garden they had added to the roof of their flat, adjacent to the upper room, now reinhabited by the Plants. Aziraphale sat at a small table under a tree with a cup of cocoa, list making. Crowly was in the hammock, lazily inspecting the greenery.
"My Love?" Every time he said that, Aziraphale thrilled at being able to declare it out loud.
"Yes, Angel?" And Crowley felt like he was flying every time he heard it.
"We need to discuss the actual ceremony."
"Whatever you want, Angel, except white. I am NOT wearing white." While Crowley's love was limitless, his idea of style was not.
"That was never on the table dear; as they say now, "you do you, boo." Aziraphale looked at the list on his tablet. "I thought you'd decided on a kilt. I'm currently considering a mourning coat in a light dove-gray, but it reminds me too much of upstairs. I'll be inspired closer to the date, I suppose. But we haven't discussed the ceremony. Traditionally, we need an officiant. Not wanting upstairs or down, we should pick from our human friends."
"Warlock." Crowley put one foot on the ground to swing himself in the hammock. "He's known us longest. He can get 'official' online."
"Our boy." Aziraphale smiled and thought of the 'wrong boy', whom they considered 'ours'; now attending University in Oxford with the Them. "Perfect! He's studying literature; I think he'll be up to the task of writing whatever needs saying. Which of the thousands of traditions do we include? We'll write our own vows, obviously…"
"Obviously." Crowley echoed. "Should we exchange rings, or livestock, or vials of our blood?"
"You are considering everything. Rings, please. Much neater than your other options." Aziraphale wiped his hands on his napkin at the thought, then took a sip of his cocoa. "Binding, broom jumping, glass breaking, or one of those exhausting little craft activities they show on tic-toc?"
"Ugh. I'd rather do the blood thing." Crowley shifted to his stomach and eyed the clover under the hammock to make sure they were growing up to snuff. "No crafts, we don't want something else to dust for eternity. Music?"
Aziraphale thought for a moment, then sighed. "As much as I love the Romantics, I think something simple – some Renaissance lute for a prelude. Maybe Dowland. I'm not sure about after…"
Crowley sat up and waved a hand in the air "I have an idea for the finish. We start with Miss Davidson's poem, and then….."
...
Warlock came into town to visit and make plans. His hair was still straight and shoulder-length, although it had lightened a bit to a definite brown. He had broadened a bit but was still at the gangly stage. From the back, Deidre Young sometimes thought he reminded her of Arthur at that age. He bounded through the door to the bookshop and swept Crowley up in an enthusiastic hug, "Nanny!"
"Hellspawn!" Crowley's voice softened for their boy. "How did you get here so quickly from Oxford?"
"Brian and I came into town for a bit of clubbing last night. We stayed at Raph's." He set Crowley down. Warlock and Brian had become fast friends, and Warlock was accepted as part of the Them when he was in the area. Warlock was finding more and more reasons to stay in the UK between terms.
"I don't know if I like the idea of 'clubbing'." Aziraphale walked up to be scooped into Warlock's embrace. "But at least staying with Raph lets me know you're being careful."
"Brother Fell, we're always careful." Warlock said with an exaggerated eye roll as he released the Angel. "It's your apprentices you need to worry about. They throw the word 'human' around far too much to be ignored. We get away with the 'cosplay' excuse for only so long." The young man beamed at his favorite pair, took each by one hand and walked them to the sitting area. "So, we're getting hitched? Mom was not surprised when I told her that Nanny and Brother Francis were getting married. She said Dad owed her $20, since she won the bet. He thought Nanny was too posh for the gardener." The three of them sat on the sofa.
"The other way around, actually." Crowley laughed. "We should have swapped roles."
"No, I would have fed him too much." Aziraphale patted Warlock's hand. "Dear Boy, we're so glad you are willing to officiate our wedding. No human knows us better."
"Or loves you more." Warlock squeezed both hands, watching the pair blush, and Crowley look away for a moment. "Is there anything specifically you want me to say, or not say? I've talked to almost everyone, although I still need to pop in on Nina and Maggie. 'Doing my research', you might say."
"Leave out the serpent part, not everyone knows about that." Crowley leaned back, feeling less emotional. "I guess the gender fluidity can't be avoided, but that's a non-issue nowadays, finally."
"Finally." Warlock agreed, glad to be in the 21st century.
"I think we should mention how we have rescued each other over the ages, but I think we should avoid listing them all. It's a wedding, not a retrospective." Aziraphale looked to Crowley, who nodded in agreement.
"Edit for time, I get it. I think I can take everything I've been told and know and reduce it down to the 'essence' of your partnership, that is, as much as a human can." Warlock reached for the pad and pen he kept in his pocket. "So, 1) Welcome 2) Celebrate your partnership 3) Vows & Rings 4) Pronounced and SWAK."
"Swak?" Aziraphale asked.
"Sealed with a Kiss." Warlock replied.
"Oh, what we've got planned is bigger than a kiss, Hellspawn. More like SWAF." Crowley patted the boy on the back.
"I don't know if I'm comfortable with that…." Warlock was afraid to ask.
"No, nothing like that!" Aziraphale blushed. "just an extra 'ta-da' moment to finish it off." He began using his 'magic' hands to illustrate.
"Trust us." Crowley said. "You know where each of our 'comfort zones' are; it is squarely in the 'safe' area, where no one is embarrassed. It will start with our reading a poem…"
Warlock leaned back with a smile, soaking in the love pouring off his two favorite beings in the world. He knew the Dowlings were his parents; he even knew the Youngs were his birth parents, but these two were his parents in every way that mattered. He relaxed, letting Aziraphale and Crowley ramble on, thinking "I love my family."
...
As the day grew nearer, the final details came into place. Crowley surprised Aziraphale with a new tartan design, or two. A black and dark gray background, or a cream and pale gold background, a thread of white, gray and blue and a thread of black, gold and red shot through the pattern. The black tartan would be in Crowley's kilt, the cream tartan would be the waistcoat in Aziraphale's wedding ensemble.
The angel took Raph and Maggie with him to be fitted for a bespoke suit to go with the waistcoat. They chose a dusky blue fabric that matched his eyes, and had trousers and formal topcoat made, with a gold tie that matched a certain serpent's eyes.
Aziraphale designed the silver rings – the top half was an infinity symbol, with two small stones appearing to ride within: a London blue topaz and gold topaz. The bottom half was a pair of wings: one gold tipped, one darkened. Inscribed inside was one word- "us". "We can wear it either side up." Aziraphale knew Crowley would be more comfortable with the wings up, the infinity symbol more of a promise remembered and out of sight. But his wedding gift to Crowley was a kilt pin of a snake in the shape of the infinity sign, with topaz eyes.
The Bentley still shone from the handwashing they gave it, and the Plants each gave leaves to be fashioned into boutonnieres for the pair. The menu for the celebration had been ordered and the cake was being made at the angel's favorite bakery. Everything was falling into place for the wedding. Not wanting to tempt fate, Aziraphale spent the night before in the bookshop, and Crowley in the flat. Knowing their history, neither spent the night sleeping peacefully, but waiting for the other shoe to drop.