Aziraphale watches Crowley at his side with some concern.

Crowley has been… shifty lately. Slinking and slithering about in the dark. More than usual anyway.

He's been acting mysteriously and brushes off any questions Aziraphale asks about his behavior. It might be more worrying if Aziraphale wasn't absolutely sure he could trust Crowley in every single way.

Ever since the apocalypse that wasn't and everything had been restored back to normal, Crowley and Aziraphale have taken their relationship to a new and wonderful level. Crowley had moved in quite before Aziraphale knew what had been happening and ever since then, well… it's all been tickety-boo, hasn't it?

They already shared their lives together, their spaces, they dined together and saw theater and well, generally anything a normal couple might do in these modern times. Only now they slept in the same bed and shared breakfast and dinner every day, and even bathed together, which Aziraphale finds delightful. He already knows Crowley so very well but there's something vulnerable about him Aziraphale has only seen a few times over the last six thousand years.

And to think that he had been woefully ignorant to Crowley's vulnerability before. It had been there, shining brightly in front of him, but he had never assumed it meant anything. That Crowley meant anything when he said lost my best friend or that he knew Aziraphale liked him.

He hadn't cottoned on to the deeper message within Crowley's words and he's immensely sorry for the wasted time. He may not have been feeling as deeply as Crowley had admitted he had since the dawn of man, but he wonders, if only he knew… would it have changed anything?

Or was it always going to take a literal explosion to ignite his feelings?

It's best not to dwell on the past, he thinks, and dwells on his present instead, and the mystery of Crowley's… well, mystery.

"Where are you sneaking off to now?" Aziraphale asks as he reads one of his many books, sitting on the admittedly cushy sofa Crowley had introduced a few months ago.

Crowley is sauntering out of the room in his usual way, but Aziraphale can tell he's trying to be purposefully quiet.

"Nowhere," Crowley says and disappears up the stairs.

Aziraphale huffs a little and takes a sip of wine. A very fine vintage, as per usual, and something Crowley has been strangely avoiding for the evening.

Something is up, as they say, and Aziraphale debates going to find Crowley. He decides against it after a while, thinking that perhaps even demons might enjoy the occasional solitude.

It isn't until he hears slithering across the ground that he blinks and lowers his book, looking down at the floor.

And there, taking up most of the floorspace, is a massive black snake that shimmers faintly red in the low light of the room.

"Hello, my dear," Aziraphale says with a smile. "What's the occasion?"

Crowley slithers closer to him, until he's up on the couch and crossed Aziraphale's lap. Aziraphale runs his hand along his incredibly smooth scales and hums in delight at the feeling.

"Something is… up," he decides to try.

Crowley merely continues to slide across his lap until the heavy weight of him eventually dwindles down and soon, only his slightly curled tail remains on Aziraphale's thigh.

Aziraphale blinks down at the tail, which is curled around something, until Crowley lets it go. A small box lays on his leg now, a simple beige thing, and Aziraphale frowns.

Well, it's too small for a book.

"What's this?" he asks as he picks up the box and looks at Crowley.

Crowley is rather too large to curl up on the couch but he still manages it, coiled tightly, only his nose visible.

"Shy, are we?" Aziraphale asks with a chuckle. "I'm sure it's lovely, my dear, whatever it is."

"Are you ever going to open it?" Crowley asks.

His voice always sounds… well, not entirely human, when he speaks as a snake and Aziraphale decidedly ignores that.

"I do love a good present," Aziraphale says cheerfully. He takes off the lid of the box and blinks slowly down at… a ring.

A lovely ring, titanium he thinks, fit to survive anything. He pulls it out of the box and the lamp above him catches on an inscription on the inside.

For my angel.

"Goodness!" Aziraphale says as he beams at Crowley the snake. "What a thoughtful gift! It's truly lovely, Crowley."

"You have no idea what it meanssss," Crowley says, sounding rather awed. He morphs into himself, sitting curled up on the couch, gaping at Aziraphale.

"What it means?" Aziraphale repeats as he looks down at the ring. He looks at Crowley again, who merely raises his eyebrows at him, then back down at the ring.

Yes, yes there is that thing humans do when exchanging rings like this.

Marriage proposals.

Aziraphale gasps and quickly looks at Crowley again.

Crowley sighs as he takes off his sunglasses and tucks them in his pocket. "I should have talked to you about it first," he mutters as he squints at Aziraphale. "D'you like it?"

"Do I like it?" Aziraphale asks, perhaps a little hysterically. "Well! Of course I do. It's perfect. Wonderful. Very… shiny indeed! But, my dear, are you asking me to marry you?"

"It seems to be the thing to do," Crowley says slowly. "When you love someone."

Aziraphale blushes and smiles. He's used to being told that Crowley loves him and saying it in return, but it still can catch him off guard, when it's said at the most surprising moment.

Like a proposal of marriage.

"Yes, I suppose it is," he says as he admires the ring, holding it up toward the light. "You're meant to ask me, aren't you?"

He knows perfectly well what Crowley is meant to ask and from the way Crowley smiles at him, he knows that Crowley is aware of that.

Crowley unfolds himself and stands, coming to stand in front of Aziraphale. He gets down on one knee, taking up Aziraphale's hand and the ring.

"Will you, angel, marry me?" he asks.

"Well," Aziraphale says breathlessly, "I absolutely will."

Crowley slides the ring onto Aziraphale's finger.

A perfect fit.

Aziraphale beams between Crowley and the ring, until Crowley intertwines their fingers and leans up to press a kiss to Aziraphale's lips.

They get rather wound around each other for a while but eventually they decide to finish their wine and share a slice of cake from that lovely little bakery down the street.

"What do we do now?" Crowley asks after a while, with a smile that says he already knows perfectly well what they do.

Aziraphale grins. "Now, my dear, we plan."

—

Aziraphale is told numerous times by Crowley that he's skipping through his days, as if high in the sky, walking on clouds.

Aziraphale tells Crowley he's sauntering even more than usual, so they're even.

They spend their weeks wrapped around each other, whether they're on the sofa or in bed, or… at the kitchen table or in Anathema's backyard or their usual table in the Ritz.

It's hard to care what either of their sides, if they were to ever have one again, think about it all. They'll inevitably have to answer to the Almighty or Satan one of these days, but for now… well, for now, Aziraphale and Crowley plan.

It's not easy planning a wedding, Aziraphale decides, but goodness is it fun.

There's everything to think about - who to invite, what the guests and themselves must wear, what foods to serve, what music to play, what other activities there might be to entertain their guests.

When Aziraphale suggests magic at the end of the evening, Crowley merely sighs and gives him that look, the one that says anything for you, angel, without actually saying it.

Though he does actually say it many times throughout their planning.

They don't see the point in waiting. Yes, they have all the time in the world (until the next apocalypse, whenever that might be written), but they've also had six thousand years to do something about it and haven't yet.

It's time.

They debate who to invite for a long while, but it really is very simple in the end. There's no need to invite everyone they've ever met or any of those that were previously on their respective sides.

Those people did try to murder them and Aziraphale hasn't quite gotten over it yet. He's allowed to not forgive so easily, he thinks, and it's because he truly has no side anymore.

And a demon as a fiancé, but that's neither here nor there.

Anathema and Newt, Adam and the Them, Sergeant Shadwell and Madame Tracy, and a few odd sorts they've both picked up throughout the years.

Their favorite waiter at the Ritz and Aziraphale's parcel delivery driver and Crowley's American friend from the casino that does all the work for him, as Crowley says.

Aziraphale plans the menu out with a catering company and doesn't skimp on the food, as he can miracle up as much money as he'd like, and decides not to feel guilty about it for this one day.

Crowley chooses a dapper white tuxedo with a tophat and Aziraphale finds a matching black tuxedo and once they've seen each other in them… well, then it's decided, isn't it?

They decide to marry in Tadfield, which only seems natural, and some very grumpy man that Crowley recognizes gives them permission to marry in his apple orchard, as Newt has apparently made a good impression on him.

Crowley makes a playlist with Aziraphale's help for the music they want played by the chamber orchestra Crowley insists on hiring.

And soon… everything is planned. They have a date set for September, when it isn't too hot or cold, though Newt tells them that the weather is perfect in Tadfield any time of the year.

The weeks go by slowly leading up to the big day but Aziraphale and Crowley don't mind. They merely spend most of their waking moments together, discussing the wedding and where they might travel after. Alpha Centauri is always nice this time of the year, but Aziraphale thinks perhaps he'd like to see a traditional ocean on Earth.

There are plenty of remote islands they can choose and when he points this out to Crowley, Crowley nods in satisfaction.

And then, quite suddenly, no matter how slowly time is going by, it's their wedding day.

Anathema and the children have built them a wedding arch that's positively lovely with whitewashed wood and white roses woven onto it.

The apple orchard smells wonderful, full of ripe apples ready for picking, and the grass beneath their feet is soft and so very green.

Aziraphale paces in the small living room of the neighborhood watchman's house, Paterson he calls himself, and tries not to wrinkle his tuxedo. He's certainly experienced anxiety before, but… none quite like this.

He's alone now, thankfully, and keeps looking at himself in the small mirror placed on the wall.

What if Crowley doesn't like him after they've gotten married? What if Crowley gets tired of him? What if, what if…

Aziraphale scoffs to himself and straightens his spine.

This is Crowley he's thinking about - that man couldn't hide how he feels to save his life and he certainly feels very strongly for Aziraphale, in all the right ways.

"Stop being ridiculous," he says to his reflection in the mirror.

"Angel," someone hisses.

Aziraphale blinks as he looks around the room, seeing no one. "Crowley?"

"Down here."

Aziraphale looks down at his feet and sees a very small, not even a foot long, snake. He laughs. "Oh hello, my dear! What on earth are you doing?"

"They wouldn't let me in," Crowley complains as he morphs into himself, straightening out his white tuxedo. He nods at the window open a few inches. "I improvised."

"Ah, yes, the tradition," Aziraphale says importantly as he adjusts Crowley's bow tie. "To not see each other before the wedding."

"Humans," Crowley mutters as he gazes at Aziraphale with a dreamy look in his eyes. "Never was one for tradition myself."

"I know it," Aziraphale says, thinking of all of their traditions, including marriage, but deciding not to say anything.

"Wasn't it just June?" Crowley asks as he begins to pace the room. "Did you miracle some time away?"

"I rather think the world would have noticed that," Aziraphale says with a smile as he openly ogles his fiancé.

What is a fiancé, if not one to be openly ogled?

"Ah!" he says and moves to the wardrobe. He picks up a cane that is laying on top of it and turns to Crowley with a grin. "For tonight's entertainment."

"Fitting," Crowley sighs. "You're still going to use real magic, aren't you?"

"Some," Aziraphale says. "There is magic in the unknown, you know, even if it's not real."

"Except nearly everyone out there will be expecting real magic," Crowley says with a smirk as he walks up to Aziraphale.

"They won't be able to decide which is which," Aziraphale says confidently. "I've been practicing for weeks now and I have quite a few things up my sleeve."

"Literally," Crowley says and takes Aziraphale's fidgeting hand. "Angel."

"Mmm?"

"You're perfect."

"I rather think you're perfect as well."

Crowley smiles and presses a kiss to Aziraphale's cheek.

"Then let's go get married," he says as he walks toward the window.

Aziraphale catches his hand and pulls him back. Crowley comes without any surprise and when they kiss, well… that comes with a surprise or two.

"Gross."

"Eww."

"Anathema says it's time."

They pull away quickly and gape at the window, which is opened all the way now, and shows four youthful faces looking at them.

"It's rude to eavesdrop," Aziraphale says, but he doesn't really mean it.

They merely grin at him anyway.

"You aren't supposed to be here," Wensleydale says to Crowley matter-of-factly.

Crowley makes a smart face at him.

"That tradition is for the patriarchy to keep the bride-to-be pure for her husband," Pepper says as equally matter-of-factly. "There's no need to hide from each other."

Crowley points at Pepper. "This one knows what's what," he says as he walks to the window. He ushers the children aside and clambers out of the window without bothering to turn into a snake to do it. He pokes his head back in and lowers his sunglasses as he looks at Aziraphale. "Have I told you how beautiful you are, angel?"

"Eww," Adam says.

Aziraphale smiles warmly, his cheeks hot. "Thank you, my dear," he says. "I'll be out in a moment."

They leave and Aziraphale looks at himself in the mirror again. He takes in a deep breath and lets it out, smiling.

"To Misters Anthony and Aziraphale Crowley," he says proudly.

He leaves the house through the back door and walks to the wedding arch as music begins to play.

And when they leave the arch, they are married in the eyes of God and man.

After that, well, after that is the party.

They dance and dine and give speeches and Aziraphale puts on his magic show, which ends in a resounding success after he pulls a live rabbit out from Crowley's ear.

Their friends are genuinely happy for them, Aziraphale can see, and he speaks with all of them, feeling far more giddy than he's ever felt.

It was against tradition to give away a flaming sword and it's against tradition to get married like a human, but… what's so wrong with the human way of doing things?

To help each other, to enjoy oneself?

Nothing, according to Crowley, and Aziraphale couldn't agree more.

The sun falls and the moon rises and white paper lanterns are lit in the orchard.

Aziraphale and Crowley dance to one last song. Crowley rests his head on Aziraphale's shoulder and he presses his cheek to Crowley's head, looking up at the stars above them as a love song swells around them.

Perfection.

Impossible to find, most days, but Aziraphale thinks he has found the most perfect day in existence, and will always remember it.

"What are you thinking about?" Crowley asks without looking at Aziraphale, his hands warm on Aziraphale's back.

"Oh, perfection," Aziraphale sighs.

"Your own?"

"Hardly," Aziraphale laughs. "I'm not perfect."

"You are in my eyes," Crowley murmurs as he looks at Aziraphale, not wearing his sunglasses.

Aziraphale likes to think he can see Crowley's soul in his yellow eyes and what a beautiful thing it is, his lover's soul.

"And you are in mine," he says and kisses Crowley chastely. "Today is perfect but you are perfect every day, my dear."

"Stop it, angel," Crowley says with a smile, "or you'll make me blush."

They kiss again.

"Eww," Adam says, but he's smiling and making falling stars light up the sky.

Perfection.

Impossible to find most days, and yet…

Every day, Aziraphale thinks, every day spent with Crowley is truly a perfect day.

And that night, when they lay wrapped in each other's arms, they whisper forever.