#ineffable-wives-central

“My dear, close your eyes for a moment; I have something for you,” Aziraphale said softly. Crowley raised a curious eyebrow but obeyed, noting the nervous excitement in the angel’s expression.

“Didn’t know we were exchanging presents early; isn’t our anniversary next week?” Crowley asked and heard Aziraphale’s faint laughter from the other room.

“Yes, but your present arrived early and I just got so excited that I simply couldn’t wait. I hope that’s alright?” The angel’s voice was close again, and Crowley felt the couch cushion sink slightly as Aziraphale took a seat next to her.

“’Course it’s alright, as long as you’re okay with getting your gift on our actual anniversary?”

“Of course, dear! Now, hold out your hands.”

Crowley did so and a large, square object was placed in her open palms. She cracked her eyes open and saw a wrapped present, complete with a fancy golden (obviously lovingly-miracled) bow on top. Eagerly, she ripped away the colorful paper to reveal a framed picture of a circular sky full of constellations. Above the star chart was a very familiar date, while the inscription beneath read: “The Very First Day of the Rest of Our Lives.”

“Angel, what…?” Crowley breathed, staring at the picture in awe.

“It’s a star chart of the sky on the Sunday after the apocalypse-that-wasn’t,” Aziraphale clarified, wringing her hands nervously. It was hard to read the expression on Crowley’s face; she looked happy, but there was also something in her eyes that the angel couldn’t pinpoint. “I… I know that it might not be entirely accurate—it was created by humans, after all, not an all-powerful being like yourself who helped make the stars—but I just thought it might be a nice… memento, I suppose, of when we officially started our lives on our own side.”

“Oh, Aziraphale… I love it.” Crowley’s mouth split into a huge grin as she leaned over to give Aziraphale a peck on the cheek.

“Oh, wonderful!” Aziraphale returned the smile, giggling when Crowley trailed light kisses up and down her neck. “I wasn’t sure it was the right gift, you know, so—”

“Angel.” Crowley sat up and placed the picture on the nearby table, then met Aziraphale’s gaze. “You’re the most thoughtful being on this whole blasted planet, and even though I’ll love anything you give me, this is definitely at the top of the present list so far. So stop fretting and just kiss me, will you?”

Aziraphale laughed again, a pretty blush spreading across her face.

Book

Aziraphale knocked three times on the door to Crowley’s apartment before letting herself in.

“Hello, my love!” she called out, smiling when her demon’s familiar voice sounded from the direction of the bedroom.

“Hey, Angel, I’m just finishing getting ready—I’ll be out in a few. Make yourself at home.”

Aziraphale made her way towards the living room. What used to be a cold, sparsely decorated space now seemed a little cozier with the addition of a few bookshelves. Aziraphale’s eyes scanned the room, seeing if there were any new books to read while she waited for her love to finish getting ready. Her gaze landed on the glass coffee table, where one of those e-readers rested close to the couch.

A “nook,” or something to that effect, the angel thought with a slight wrinkle of her nose. As one might predict, she was not the biggest fan of electronic books; in her mind, nothing could beat the scent of parchment and the heavy weight of a favorite story in your hands. However, she did have to concede that e-readers had their uses, especially for people like Crowley whose eyes sometimes played funny tricks and made it difficult to read standard print.

Curiously, Aziraphale picked up the tablet. She wondered what Crowley might be reading these days, or if this was just another device she used for scrolling through social media and starting futile online arguments. She soon managed to turn the device on and the screen lit up, revealing an open web browser.

Ah, just as I thought, Aziraphale mused, then quickly gasped as she processed what she was looking at.

The browser was open to an unassuming search engine, which was currently displaying results for “gemstones meaning eternal love & devotion.” With shaking fingers, Aziraphale gently pressed the search bar, thanking the Lord above that Crowley had shown her how to use basic website search functions on one of her many, many lessons on technology.

The most recent result that popped up was “best ideas for wedding rings.”

Aziraphale felt a flood of love through her corporation so powerful she swore that she began to glow. She carefully turned off the tablet and replaced it on the table, deciding it best not to bring up the fact that she’d been snooping.

It was good timing, for she soon heard Crowley coming down the hallway and couldn’t help an absolutely radiant smile from crossing her face.

The Dowling Residence, Before the Not-pocalypse

“Look, Nanny—a shooting star!” Warlock bounced on his feet excitedly, pointing up at the sky as a bright light rocketed towards earth.

“Very good, my little devil!” Crowley said, giving the boy a tired smile. It was, admittedly, rather late for a six year old to be out at night, but Warlock had insisted on eating ice cream too late and the chef had decided to adhere to the request rather than risk a tantrum. This had earned Warlock praise from his nanny for “forcing the humans to bend to his will,” but an unintended consequence came in the extreme sugar rush that shortly followed dessert. Crowley tried many things to make Warlock sleep, but was at the end of her limit and decided to take the boy out to look at the stars as a last resort, thinking maybe getting out of the house would tire him easier.

“Momma says that you’re s’pposed to wish on shooting stars,” Warlock said, sitting down on the bench next to his caretaker (a miracle, the demon thought). Wide blue eyes bored through dark glasses and the boy asked, “What do you wish for, Nanny?”

The question took the demon off-guard. She didn’t usually wish for things; if she wanted anything, she could simply use her powers to get it.

Well…, she thought, frowning slightly. Almost anything.

“I bet I know what you wished for,” Warlock said with a knowing look much too mature for a boy his age.

“Oh, is that so?” Crowley asked with a raised eyebrow. Before she could ask him to elaborate, a figure clad in tan and pale blue appeared from the direction of the greenhouse.

“Well, hello there, dearies; I thought I heard you two out here!” Aziraphale said in the overdone accent she’d adopted for the Sister Francis persona. She wore a beaming smile and Crowley couldn’t help the way her normally-tight expression melted slightly at the angel’s presence.

“I knew it,” Warlock whispered, quiet enough for only Crowley to hear.

“Hmm?” the demon said absently, trying unsuccessfully to focus on the boy at her side. She hadn’t seen Aziraphale in a few days due to busy schedules, so encountering her oldest acquaintance was a welcome thing, especially on a night such as this.

“Nothing,” Warlock responded in a sing-song tone. He grinned and gave his nanny a quickly hug, briefly gaining her full attention. “I’m feeling kinda tired now; I’m gonna go to bed. See you in the morning, Nanny Ash!”

With a wave to Aziraphale, Warlock dashed off towards the house.

“Warlock, what—ugh, that child,” Crowley groaned, rolling her eyes when she was sure the boy made it safely inside.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you,” Aziraphale said in her normal voice, coming to a stop at Crowley’s side. “I just heard the two of you chatting and thought I’d see what was going on since it’s so late…”

“No, it wasn’t you, Angel.” Crowley sighed and rolled her shoulders, preparing to get up. She glanced at Aziraphale and paused, then settled back into the bench and patted the seat next to her. “Well, since you walked all the way over, you might as well sit and chat for a bit.”  

“That sounds lovely.” Aziraphale smiled and took a seat. She looked up and let out a gasp, pointing towards the sky. “Look, dear—a shooting star! Oh, did you make that one?”

***

Warlock watched his nanny and gardener from his bedroom window until Sister Frances took a seat on the bench, quite a bit closer to Nanny Ash than most people would dare. Satisfied at a job complete, he closed the curtain and crawled into bed, a grin on his face.

Crowley loved Aziraphale’s eyes. One might think, between the two of them, the demon’s eyes were more interesting. However, if one actually asked said demon, she would immediately disagree.

Crowley’s eyes were a symbol of danger, a warning of someone not to be messed with, and an easy way to gauge her excitement (depending on who was asked). They were the focal point whenever they were on view, and therefore Aziraphale’s eyes were often overlooked.

Crowley would say that this was quite a shame. If one stared into Aziraphale’s eyes, really looked, they would see an unending depth of love—love for all living beings, love for books, love for a particularly scrummy meal at the Ritz, and even love for a demon, of all things.

But there was more—oh so much more.

There was compassion for those less fortunate, adoration for those closest to her, and kindness for those that needed a little miracle. These are all the things Crowley would say, and so much more, when asked why she loved her angel’s eyes.

Of course, not being very adept at words at the best of times, Crowley would find it hard to actually articulate this when asked to describe the love of her life. She would ponder the question, lips pressed together in thought, before her smile softened and she said the only thing she could think to describe everything revealed in the those bright blue depths:

First

“Hey… when did you first realize you were in love with me?”

The question made Aziraphale look up from her book, blue irises locking with golden. Crowley wore a quizzical expression, one of the many faces Aziraphale adored, this one composed of scrunched eyebrows and a slightly tilted head.

The question had been asked before, and each time Aziraphale had struggled to find the answer… simply because she didn’t know. Crowley’s response when asked the same thing was always immediate, a wide grin spread across her face as she proclaimed, “On the wall, of course!”

But Aziraphale found it harder to pinpoint the exact moment she fell in love with the demon now permanently fixed to her side. When she dwelled on the topic, really dwelled on it, a few memories always came to the surface:

A dark night in the 1940s, standing on the ruins of a church with a briefcase of books.

A bright day at the Globe Theater, watching a play made all the more exciting by the appearance of her best friend.

A sunny afternoon at the Dowling residence, watching a not-very-demonic nanny coddling a child that always seemed most soothed in her arms.

A sky overcast with dust and fire, holding hands with the antichrist, his tight grip connecting angel and demon and confirming that they were indeed on their own side.

And yet, none of them felt like the moment­—the one distinct point and time when Aziraphale could say, “Yes, this is when I knew for sure.”

As Aziraphale mused on this topic and Crowley began growing restless, another image surfaced from the depths of Aziraphale’s mind. She didn’t even know if she could really call it a “memory,” the image felt so ethereal, not nearly as concrete as all the rest. Yet, deep in her heart she felt it was real:

A soft bed of clouds underneath her feet, the world illuminated in conforming white, except for one spark of brilliant red hair shinning against the pale backdrop.

Aziraphale smiled at the thought, grasping Crowley’s hand in her own.