![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Much belated, and long promised.
Title: Blessing
Rating: PG-13
Fandoms: Good Omens, Supernatural, Mia and Morgan's Ironies Verse
Characters/Pairings: Aziraphale, Crowley(GO), Ambriel, Hadraniel, Chuck Shurley, Kali. Mention of Gabriel, Crowley(SPN), Castiel, Dean, Emma Winchester. Aziraphale/Crowley(GO), Ambriel/Hadraniel. Background Gabriel/Crowley(SPN), Dean/Castiel, Emma/Corbett. Whew!
Summary: Chuck winds up at a certain table during Emma's wedding, and say a few things needed saying
Continuity: Set during the wedding in Chapter 9 of the main story
Wordcount: 3067
Disclaimer: None of it is mine. Absolutely none of it.
Title: Blessing
Rating: PG-13
Fandoms: Good Omens, Supernatural, Mia and Morgan's Ironies Verse
Characters/Pairings: Aziraphale, Crowley(GO), Ambriel, Hadraniel, Chuck Shurley, Kali. Mention of Gabriel, Crowley(SPN), Castiel, Dean, Emma Winchester. Aziraphale/Crowley(GO), Ambriel/Hadraniel. Background Gabriel/Crowley(SPN), Dean/Castiel, Emma/Corbett. Whew!
Summary: Chuck winds up at a certain table during Emma's wedding, and say a few things needed saying
Continuity: Set during the wedding in Chapter 9 of the main story
Wordcount: 3067
Disclaimer: None of it is mine. Absolutely none of it.
Blessing
The reception had started to calm down a little by the time the prophet wandered over to their table. The evening had mellowed nicely, and the alcohol had flowed, and after Gabriel and his demon had managed to be so adorably romantic on the dance floor, a lot of the other couples (and a few who hadn't been couples before) had started drifting around the floor. The fathers of the bride were out there now, being thoroughly embarrassed and completely wrapped up in each other, and Aziraphale thought someone should maybe warn them that their daughter had quietly burst into tears around her new husband as she watched them, but ... well, it was that kind of evening. It was that kind of day. The kind of day that had him doing his level best not to simply levitate in joy, and only barely succeeding.
Thankfully, he had his demon to help with that, he thought with a smile, looking down at Crowley where he lounged against Aziraphale's shoulder. His demon blinked up at him, golden eyes warm and at half-mast, smiling as his mouth continued to burble happily at the younger angels, in full voice as he discoursed on the joys of botany, and the wonders of alcohol, and the many and varied uses for the ties hanging sloppily around Ambriel's neck (Aziraphale wasn't quite sure how Hadraniel's tie had ended up around his companion's neck, though he suspected his demon had had something to do with it). The only major result of this was that Ambriel was currently vacillating between avid fascination and flustered horror, and Hadraniel was doing his best to avoid dropping his love in a fit of giggles.
They had all had rather a lot of that champagne, Aziraphale thought muzzily, grinning at the hiccuping angel. Rather ... rather a lot, yes. But he was feeling nicely bubbly, and warm, and his demon's voice was doing wonderful things to him, curled all low and silky around his chest (like a tie, perhaps?), and really, he rather thought they deserved this little bit of indulgence, on such a happy day.
Besides. Ambriel was really so very, very cute, taking his demon so very seriously like that, and Hadraniel had caught his eye in between giggles, smiling down at his usually-serious love and beaming happily at the animated look on his face ...
And then a fifth person staggered out of the slow eddies of the dance floor, and fetched up clinging somewhat helplessly to their table, almost tripping over Crowley's outflung foot in the process. Aziraphale blinked, reaching out to catch the poor man's shoulder, and found himself looking up into the the flustered, flushed face of Chuck Shurley, Prophet of the Lord. Who proceeded to offer him a very queasy smile, and cast a worried look back over his shoulder. Aziraphale peered around him, spotting the majestic figure of the Destroyer prowling the dance floor in search of her missing prey, and looked back at the vaguely pleading expression on the prophet's face. He bit his lip, and smiled.
"Would you like to join us for a drink, my dear?" he offered cheerfully. "I'm sure Emma would be much happier if everyone mingled. Practically a duty, I should think, don't you?"
Crowley snickered loudly, but an elbow in the ribs sorted that quickly enough. Chuck slid gratefully into the seat next to Ambriel, and accepted the glass the younger angel passed him with fervent thanks, ducking his head in vague embarrassment while they smiled at him. Even Ambriel, looking over at Kali's striking figure and sharing a brief but entirely sincere look of commiseration with the prophet. Poor dear understood only too well the trials the easily-flustered had to go through in such company.
"Um. Thank you?" Chuck stuttered after a second, while Crowley lazily offered him another glass and grinned an entirely too demonic grin. Aziraphale frowned down at his demon, narrowing his eyes pointedly and trying hard to ignore the conciliatory fingers Crowley had wormed under his shirt as a distraction. The demon grinned unrepentantly.
"No problem," he hissed cheerfully, waving magnanimously with his free hand. "Underssstand completely, we do. Honessstly. You should have ssseen War, back in the day ... Woman could jelly your legs from fifty paces. Or take off your head. You know, whichever ..." He trailed off, smiling nostalgically, and then frowned. "Of courssse, then she went through her masculine phase, and that wasssn't near so much fun ..."
"Dearest?" Aziraphale interrupted softly, sweetly, while Ambriel went slowly red across the table, and Chuck stared at them in worried bewilderment. "If I could just remind you where your hand currently is, and where my hand currently is, and ask you not to disturb our friends with stories about your exes?"
Ambriel and Hadraniel froze worriedly, staring between them, and Chuck, in between looking like he'd just realised he'd stepped from the frying pan into the fire, looked slightly concerned himself, but Aziraphale was busy glaring down at his demon, and Crowley was busy staring in muzzy confusion back up at him. And then ... And then the confusion in his demon's face disappeared, and Crowley graced him with a truly dazzling smile, instead. All soft and rueful and ever-so-slightly wicked, and his demon pulled himself up to nuzzle gently at Aziraphale's jaw, and kiss him softly. Aziraphale heard himself squeak a little bit, but Crowley didn't seem to mind.
"Don't have any exes," his demon whispered happily, licking Aziraphale's lip. "Only ever loved one person, angel. Rest don't count." He smiled, oddly shy, flushing a little. "Just you ..."
Aziraphale squeaked some more, completely oblivious to any looks they might be getting from the rest of the table, and leaned in rather determinedly to return the unexpected gesture. Crowley grinned, hissing happily as Aziraphale allowed a little tongue into the kiss, and for a second he quite forgot that they had company at all.
Weddings. Really. His demon was always so very ... demonstrative, at weddings ...
"Um?" a very small voice interrupted, and Aziraphale startled badly, hurriedly yanking his hand back down from its little wander along the planes of Crowley's back, and realising dimly that his demon had somehow managed to climb into his lap at some point in the last few seconds. Which ... really, now, how had he managed to let the bugger get away with that ... Crowley nipped lightly at his bottom lip, grinning wickedly as he retreated, and Aziraphale rolled his eyes. Oh, yes. That.
"Really dearest," he muttered, blushing to his ears and avoiding everyone's eyes. "You shouldn't ... you shouldn't distract me like that ..."
Crowley hummed agreement, completely ignoring the fact that any two year old could have called the lie just from the smug, happy look on his face, and reached down to tangle his fingers in Aziraphale's again. "Absolutely, angel. Mustn't distract you in company ... I'll remember that ..."
"Oh, shut up," he grumbled cheerfully, and elbowed the demon once more in the ribs. Just to make his point. Crowley grinned at him, turning in his seat to smirk lazily at the rest of the table, and Aziraphale looked up with a little squeak as he remembered they were there.
"Um," Ambriel said again, looking scandalised and mildly dazed, trying to scrunch lower in his seat as he stared at them. Hadraniel, leaning against him with his chin resting on top of the darker angel's hair, grinned like the Cheshire Cat, and looked entirely too like Crowley for Aziraphale's liking. Really. What had his demon been teaching that boy?
And then ... then there was Chuck, sitting beside them with his chin propped in his hands, and an expression on his face that Aziraphale didn't know how to read ... Aziraphale frowned. For a second there, Chuck hadn't looked at all like himself. Hadn't looked at all flustered, or cheerful, or harried. Instead ... warm. Loving? Proud? Really, none of that made any sense at all, what ... And then he blinked, and Chuck looked exactly like he always had (as far as Aziraphale knew, anyway), blushing faintly and trying not to look embarrassed on Aziraphale's behalf. Crowley was smirking at him, purely teasing, and Aziraphale could swear he had been the only one to see that momentary flicker ...
"You know, you two ... you two are al-almost as bad as Gabriel and Crowley," the prophet offered, voice wavering a little around his shy little smile. "Or Dean and ... and Castiel, back when ... well, maybe I shouldn't be telling ... Um. But you're as bad. Yes."
Crowley raised an eyebrow at that, mouth curving to show a little glimpse of fang, just to be mean. "Oh, don't even say that," he snorted, doing his best to look offended. "I have never in my life been as ... as ..."
"Soppy?" Hadraniel piped up, grinning a little himself. "Romantic? Adorable?"
Crowley sent him a withering glare, and looking pointedly at the way his hand was nestled in Ambriel's, and his cheek resting happily on his love's head. "Like you're one to talk, angel boy," his demon opinioned, nodding muzzily to himself. "I mean, my angel might have his moments, but if we're talking adorable here ..."
"Then you have everyone here beaten," another voice cut in suddenly. As one, they turned to stare at Ambriel, who shrank back a little bit, but stared back as determinedly, while his ears slowly went red. Aziraphale felt a disbelieving grin beginning to creep onto his face, while Crowley gaped incredulously.
"Excuse me?" he spluttered, actually sitting up straight for a second in order to better glare at the younger angel. "What did you just ..."
"I mean, if we're taking a vote, here," Ambriel went on firmly, biting his lip but grinning himself, bouncing challengingly and slightly tipsily in his seat. "Then I'd say you'd win hands down." He looked around the table for support, chin tilted defiantly, and Aziraphale had to raise his hand, had to join his vote to Hadraniel's grinning nod, and Chuck's shyly amused grin. "So you ..." Ambriel continued, beaming at them before he turned back to Aziraphale's demon and held something out to him. A cork, out of one of the champagne bottles. "You can ... what's the phrase you taught me? ... You can put a cork in it!" He nodded firmly, with the gravity only the truly drunk could pull off, and plopped the cork down on the table in front of a gobsmacked Crowley. And promptly slid sideways into Hadraniel's lap, giggling helplessly, and let himself be snuggled half to death by his beaming lover.
Crowley, still spluttering, turned to glare at Aziraphale, waving his hands as if to say 'Are you honestly going to just sit there and let them get away with this!?' and going alarmingly red in the face, and Aziraphale did his best to restrain himself, really, he did, but oh, he did owe his demon for that little interlude earlier, and really, his face right now was just priceless, and ... And an angel really couldn't be responsible for his actions, under those circumstances. He just couldn't.
Aziraphale leaned across the table towards a snickering Hadraniel and managed to catch Ambriel's eye long enough to exchange a grinning high-five with the hiccuping angel, and smirk in smug triumph at his demon. That'd teach him to try playing tricks on the innocent, oh yes! And if he happened to fall unsteadily against his demon's shoulder as he made it back to his seat, if he happened to grip Crowley's thigh by accident and introduce a little of Crowley's own signature vengeance to the moment ... well, like he said. An angel could hardly be held responsible for his actions, under the circumstances ...
"There you are," a soft, deadly purr interrupted them, and Chuck, who'd been watching them with an odd little smile on his face, squeaked and made a valiant attempt to hide under the tablecloth for about two seconds, before his wits caught back up with him and he managed a queasy little smile up at the formidable figure that had manifested behind his chair.
"K-Kali!" he muttered, standing hurriedly and managing to somehow shake his jacket out and straighten his tie with fumbling fingers, turning to smile at her properly and actually looking rather dashing for a moment, if Aziraphale didn't say so himself. The Destroyer grinned like a shark, threading one dark arm through the prophet's before the little man could escape, and nodded a greeting to the rest of them.
"Serpent. Angels." She inclined her head regally at each of them, ignoring Ambriel's hiccup of surprise and Crowley's insouciant little wave. "It's almost the last dance. I hope you don't mind if I borrow the prophet, here?" Smiling soft and coldly, leaving little doubt that they didn't mind, if they knew what was good for them. Chuck grimaced a little, though he was smiling shyly at her at the same time, and Aziraphale's heart went out to him, it really did, but ... well. Two Apocalypses and half a century hiding from Heaven hadn't taught him about choosing one's battles for nothing.
"Not at all, my dear," he offered gallantly, beaming up at her and reaching out to pat Chuck consolingly on the arm. The prophet glared half-heartedly at him. "You two have fun, now." He smiled, genuinely, and added: "You do make a lovely couple, you know."
And that was when it happened. That was when the little flicker from earlier, the little ripple of reality around the prophet, came again. Like a curtain being pulled back, just a little, while time slowed around them, and this time Aziraphale felt Crowley's hand tighten spasmodically in his own, heard Ambriel's shocked gasp and Hadraniel's start of fear. This time, he knew he wasn't the only one to see it. Chuck, in all His sudden glory, smiled at the four of them, and there was more than a hint of mischief in it.
"Yes," God murmured, glancing at the goddess at his side. "We do. And ... so do you." He smiled, rich and joyful, and nodded to each one of them. "So do you." A wry tilt of the head, then, as He looked over at a suddenly grey-faced demon, and Aziraphale as he struggled not to lean protectively in front of Crowley, and there was a flicker of sadness in His eyes, and a glimmer of ruefulness. "I'm sorry I'm a little late with my blessing. Though in my defense, you never really seemed to need it. I doubt very much its presence or lack would have changed your minds ..."
"No," Crowley croaked, shaking. "I mean, yes. No. Um. Shit?" Chuck ... God, smiled at him. At all of them.
"Well, whichever," He smiled. "You have it, regardless. All four of you. And don't ever let anyone tell you different." That was aimed more at a shaking, white-faced Ambriel and Hadraniel than them, Aziraphale thought, aimed more at the two younger angels and all they had been through in learning that it was alright to love each other, and for a second, then, as a tentative, hopeful smile crept onto Ambriel's pale face, as Hadraniel straightened a little in his chair in the face of his Lord ... for a second, Aziraphale felt a rush of sheer, desperate pride in Chuck, in their Father, for doing this for them. For revealing this to them. For a moment, he looked at his God with the same pride he'd felt when his humans had made the right choice, had resisted temptation and shown their true worth.
And then he blushed beet red, and tried to burrow under the table, as he realised what he'd just had the sheer, mind-boggling audacity to think, and whispered a hurried prayer of mortified apology in the hopes he wasn't about to get smited.
He looked up again a dizzy second later at the sound of sheer, startled laughter, and blinked when he realised that Chuck, faded now again to the appearance of a man, had curled forward and was wiping His eyes helplessly, shaking His head to beam up at Aziraphale. "Oh, Gabriel was so right about you," He muttered under His breath, grinning at him almost helplessly. "Why is that boy always right about things like that?" He shook His head, getting His breathing back under control while Kali held Him up with remote amusement, and reached forward to rest His hand on Aziraphale's trembling shoulder.
"Thank you," Chuck Shurley, Lord of Hosts, whispered softly. Smiling faintly, sadly. "It's not often I sense that my children are proud of me, these days. Thank you, Aziraphale."
"I ... uh ... You're welcome?" he managed to stammer, blushing furiously and clinging tight to his demon's hand. Chuck smiled at them again.
"Well, I have a dance to get to, and a beautiful lady waiting for me," the prophet straightened, smiling shyly up at Kali and bouncing a little on his heels. Grinning again. Normal again. Almost. If he'd ever been anything close. He smiled down at them, and waved as the Destroyer tugged him towards the dance floor with a dark little curl of her lips. "Look after each other, won't you?"
"Yes," Aziraphale answered faintly, hearing the other three echo him in low, fervent tones. Yes. Oh yes. He turned, looking at his shaking demon, and the trembling pair of angels across the table, and held out his hands helplessly between them. Caught Ambriel's in one, Crowley's in the other, watched the three of them link with him in a dazed, rather suddenly sober circle. Felt, unbidden, the grin start to creep across his face, saw it echoed across theirs.
He smiled, ever so faintly, and turned to tug his demon's pale, hopeful face around, to smile into his narrowed golden eyes and lick his lips, grinning as Crowley blinked bemusedly. But right now ... Right now it was a lovely evening. The world around them was mostly happy, Emma Winchester had tied the proverbial knot, Gabriel had been right, whatever that meant, and God Himself had given His blessing on their love. And Aziraphale ... Well, he rather thought he and Crowley should perhaps vacate the area, leave Ambriel and Hadraniel to their own celebrations, and perhaps ... perhaps distract each other in ways not very conducive to a public setting. Possibly with ties.
And judging by the light in Crowley's eyes as he whispered the thought, his demon agreed completely.
The reception had started to calm down a little by the time the prophet wandered over to their table. The evening had mellowed nicely, and the alcohol had flowed, and after Gabriel and his demon had managed to be so adorably romantic on the dance floor, a lot of the other couples (and a few who hadn't been couples before) had started drifting around the floor. The fathers of the bride were out there now, being thoroughly embarrassed and completely wrapped up in each other, and Aziraphale thought someone should maybe warn them that their daughter had quietly burst into tears around her new husband as she watched them, but ... well, it was that kind of evening. It was that kind of day. The kind of day that had him doing his level best not to simply levitate in joy, and only barely succeeding.
Thankfully, he had his demon to help with that, he thought with a smile, looking down at Crowley where he lounged against Aziraphale's shoulder. His demon blinked up at him, golden eyes warm and at half-mast, smiling as his mouth continued to burble happily at the younger angels, in full voice as he discoursed on the joys of botany, and the wonders of alcohol, and the many and varied uses for the ties hanging sloppily around Ambriel's neck (Aziraphale wasn't quite sure how Hadraniel's tie had ended up around his companion's neck, though he suspected his demon had had something to do with it). The only major result of this was that Ambriel was currently vacillating between avid fascination and flustered horror, and Hadraniel was doing his best to avoid dropping his love in a fit of giggles.
They had all had rather a lot of that champagne, Aziraphale thought muzzily, grinning at the hiccuping angel. Rather ... rather a lot, yes. But he was feeling nicely bubbly, and warm, and his demon's voice was doing wonderful things to him, curled all low and silky around his chest (like a tie, perhaps?), and really, he rather thought they deserved this little bit of indulgence, on such a happy day.
Besides. Ambriel was really so very, very cute, taking his demon so very seriously like that, and Hadraniel had caught his eye in between giggles, smiling down at his usually-serious love and beaming happily at the animated look on his face ...
And then a fifth person staggered out of the slow eddies of the dance floor, and fetched up clinging somewhat helplessly to their table, almost tripping over Crowley's outflung foot in the process. Aziraphale blinked, reaching out to catch the poor man's shoulder, and found himself looking up into the the flustered, flushed face of Chuck Shurley, Prophet of the Lord. Who proceeded to offer him a very queasy smile, and cast a worried look back over his shoulder. Aziraphale peered around him, spotting the majestic figure of the Destroyer prowling the dance floor in search of her missing prey, and looked back at the vaguely pleading expression on the prophet's face. He bit his lip, and smiled.
"Would you like to join us for a drink, my dear?" he offered cheerfully. "I'm sure Emma would be much happier if everyone mingled. Practically a duty, I should think, don't you?"
Crowley snickered loudly, but an elbow in the ribs sorted that quickly enough. Chuck slid gratefully into the seat next to Ambriel, and accepted the glass the younger angel passed him with fervent thanks, ducking his head in vague embarrassment while they smiled at him. Even Ambriel, looking over at Kali's striking figure and sharing a brief but entirely sincere look of commiseration with the prophet. Poor dear understood only too well the trials the easily-flustered had to go through in such company.
"Um. Thank you?" Chuck stuttered after a second, while Crowley lazily offered him another glass and grinned an entirely too demonic grin. Aziraphale frowned down at his demon, narrowing his eyes pointedly and trying hard to ignore the conciliatory fingers Crowley had wormed under his shirt as a distraction. The demon grinned unrepentantly.
"No problem," he hissed cheerfully, waving magnanimously with his free hand. "Underssstand completely, we do. Honessstly. You should have ssseen War, back in the day ... Woman could jelly your legs from fifty paces. Or take off your head. You know, whichever ..." He trailed off, smiling nostalgically, and then frowned. "Of courssse, then she went through her masculine phase, and that wasssn't near so much fun ..."
"Dearest?" Aziraphale interrupted softly, sweetly, while Ambriel went slowly red across the table, and Chuck stared at them in worried bewilderment. "If I could just remind you where your hand currently is, and where my hand currently is, and ask you not to disturb our friends with stories about your exes?"
Ambriel and Hadraniel froze worriedly, staring between them, and Chuck, in between looking like he'd just realised he'd stepped from the frying pan into the fire, looked slightly concerned himself, but Aziraphale was busy glaring down at his demon, and Crowley was busy staring in muzzy confusion back up at him. And then ... And then the confusion in his demon's face disappeared, and Crowley graced him with a truly dazzling smile, instead. All soft and rueful and ever-so-slightly wicked, and his demon pulled himself up to nuzzle gently at Aziraphale's jaw, and kiss him softly. Aziraphale heard himself squeak a little bit, but Crowley didn't seem to mind.
"Don't have any exes," his demon whispered happily, licking Aziraphale's lip. "Only ever loved one person, angel. Rest don't count." He smiled, oddly shy, flushing a little. "Just you ..."
Aziraphale squeaked some more, completely oblivious to any looks they might be getting from the rest of the table, and leaned in rather determinedly to return the unexpected gesture. Crowley grinned, hissing happily as Aziraphale allowed a little tongue into the kiss, and for a second he quite forgot that they had company at all.
Weddings. Really. His demon was always so very ... demonstrative, at weddings ...
"Um?" a very small voice interrupted, and Aziraphale startled badly, hurriedly yanking his hand back down from its little wander along the planes of Crowley's back, and realising dimly that his demon had somehow managed to climb into his lap at some point in the last few seconds. Which ... really, now, how had he managed to let the bugger get away with that ... Crowley nipped lightly at his bottom lip, grinning wickedly as he retreated, and Aziraphale rolled his eyes. Oh, yes. That.
"Really dearest," he muttered, blushing to his ears and avoiding everyone's eyes. "You shouldn't ... you shouldn't distract me like that ..."
Crowley hummed agreement, completely ignoring the fact that any two year old could have called the lie just from the smug, happy look on his face, and reached down to tangle his fingers in Aziraphale's again. "Absolutely, angel. Mustn't distract you in company ... I'll remember that ..."
"Oh, shut up," he grumbled cheerfully, and elbowed the demon once more in the ribs. Just to make his point. Crowley grinned at him, turning in his seat to smirk lazily at the rest of the table, and Aziraphale looked up with a little squeak as he remembered they were there.
"Um," Ambriel said again, looking scandalised and mildly dazed, trying to scrunch lower in his seat as he stared at them. Hadraniel, leaning against him with his chin resting on top of the darker angel's hair, grinned like the Cheshire Cat, and looked entirely too like Crowley for Aziraphale's liking. Really. What had his demon been teaching that boy?
And then ... then there was Chuck, sitting beside them with his chin propped in his hands, and an expression on his face that Aziraphale didn't know how to read ... Aziraphale frowned. For a second there, Chuck hadn't looked at all like himself. Hadn't looked at all flustered, or cheerful, or harried. Instead ... warm. Loving? Proud? Really, none of that made any sense at all, what ... And then he blinked, and Chuck looked exactly like he always had (as far as Aziraphale knew, anyway), blushing faintly and trying not to look embarrassed on Aziraphale's behalf. Crowley was smirking at him, purely teasing, and Aziraphale could swear he had been the only one to see that momentary flicker ...
"You know, you two ... you two are al-almost as bad as Gabriel and Crowley," the prophet offered, voice wavering a little around his shy little smile. "Or Dean and ... and Castiel, back when ... well, maybe I shouldn't be telling ... Um. But you're as bad. Yes."
Crowley raised an eyebrow at that, mouth curving to show a little glimpse of fang, just to be mean. "Oh, don't even say that," he snorted, doing his best to look offended. "I have never in my life been as ... as ..."
"Soppy?" Hadraniel piped up, grinning a little himself. "Romantic? Adorable?"
Crowley sent him a withering glare, and looking pointedly at the way his hand was nestled in Ambriel's, and his cheek resting happily on his love's head. "Like you're one to talk, angel boy," his demon opinioned, nodding muzzily to himself. "I mean, my angel might have his moments, but if we're talking adorable here ..."
"Then you have everyone here beaten," another voice cut in suddenly. As one, they turned to stare at Ambriel, who shrank back a little bit, but stared back as determinedly, while his ears slowly went red. Aziraphale felt a disbelieving grin beginning to creep onto his face, while Crowley gaped incredulously.
"Excuse me?" he spluttered, actually sitting up straight for a second in order to better glare at the younger angel. "What did you just ..."
"I mean, if we're taking a vote, here," Ambriel went on firmly, biting his lip but grinning himself, bouncing challengingly and slightly tipsily in his seat. "Then I'd say you'd win hands down." He looked around the table for support, chin tilted defiantly, and Aziraphale had to raise his hand, had to join his vote to Hadraniel's grinning nod, and Chuck's shyly amused grin. "So you ..." Ambriel continued, beaming at them before he turned back to Aziraphale's demon and held something out to him. A cork, out of one of the champagne bottles. "You can ... what's the phrase you taught me? ... You can put a cork in it!" He nodded firmly, with the gravity only the truly drunk could pull off, and plopped the cork down on the table in front of a gobsmacked Crowley. And promptly slid sideways into Hadraniel's lap, giggling helplessly, and let himself be snuggled half to death by his beaming lover.
Crowley, still spluttering, turned to glare at Aziraphale, waving his hands as if to say 'Are you honestly going to just sit there and let them get away with this!?' and going alarmingly red in the face, and Aziraphale did his best to restrain himself, really, he did, but oh, he did owe his demon for that little interlude earlier, and really, his face right now was just priceless, and ... And an angel really couldn't be responsible for his actions, under those circumstances. He just couldn't.
Aziraphale leaned across the table towards a snickering Hadraniel and managed to catch Ambriel's eye long enough to exchange a grinning high-five with the hiccuping angel, and smirk in smug triumph at his demon. That'd teach him to try playing tricks on the innocent, oh yes! And if he happened to fall unsteadily against his demon's shoulder as he made it back to his seat, if he happened to grip Crowley's thigh by accident and introduce a little of Crowley's own signature vengeance to the moment ... well, like he said. An angel could hardly be held responsible for his actions, under the circumstances ...
"There you are," a soft, deadly purr interrupted them, and Chuck, who'd been watching them with an odd little smile on his face, squeaked and made a valiant attempt to hide under the tablecloth for about two seconds, before his wits caught back up with him and he managed a queasy little smile up at the formidable figure that had manifested behind his chair.
"K-Kali!" he muttered, standing hurriedly and managing to somehow shake his jacket out and straighten his tie with fumbling fingers, turning to smile at her properly and actually looking rather dashing for a moment, if Aziraphale didn't say so himself. The Destroyer grinned like a shark, threading one dark arm through the prophet's before the little man could escape, and nodded a greeting to the rest of them.
"Serpent. Angels." She inclined her head regally at each of them, ignoring Ambriel's hiccup of surprise and Crowley's insouciant little wave. "It's almost the last dance. I hope you don't mind if I borrow the prophet, here?" Smiling soft and coldly, leaving little doubt that they didn't mind, if they knew what was good for them. Chuck grimaced a little, though he was smiling shyly at her at the same time, and Aziraphale's heart went out to him, it really did, but ... well. Two Apocalypses and half a century hiding from Heaven hadn't taught him about choosing one's battles for nothing.
"Not at all, my dear," he offered gallantly, beaming up at her and reaching out to pat Chuck consolingly on the arm. The prophet glared half-heartedly at him. "You two have fun, now." He smiled, genuinely, and added: "You do make a lovely couple, you know."
And that was when it happened. That was when the little flicker from earlier, the little ripple of reality around the prophet, came again. Like a curtain being pulled back, just a little, while time slowed around them, and this time Aziraphale felt Crowley's hand tighten spasmodically in his own, heard Ambriel's shocked gasp and Hadraniel's start of fear. This time, he knew he wasn't the only one to see it. Chuck, in all His sudden glory, smiled at the four of them, and there was more than a hint of mischief in it.
"Yes," God murmured, glancing at the goddess at his side. "We do. And ... so do you." He smiled, rich and joyful, and nodded to each one of them. "So do you." A wry tilt of the head, then, as He looked over at a suddenly grey-faced demon, and Aziraphale as he struggled not to lean protectively in front of Crowley, and there was a flicker of sadness in His eyes, and a glimmer of ruefulness. "I'm sorry I'm a little late with my blessing. Though in my defense, you never really seemed to need it. I doubt very much its presence or lack would have changed your minds ..."
"No," Crowley croaked, shaking. "I mean, yes. No. Um. Shit?" Chuck ... God, smiled at him. At all of them.
"Well, whichever," He smiled. "You have it, regardless. All four of you. And don't ever let anyone tell you different." That was aimed more at a shaking, white-faced Ambriel and Hadraniel than them, Aziraphale thought, aimed more at the two younger angels and all they had been through in learning that it was alright to love each other, and for a second, then, as a tentative, hopeful smile crept onto Ambriel's pale face, as Hadraniel straightened a little in his chair in the face of his Lord ... for a second, Aziraphale felt a rush of sheer, desperate pride in Chuck, in their Father, for doing this for them. For revealing this to them. For a moment, he looked at his God with the same pride he'd felt when his humans had made the right choice, had resisted temptation and shown their true worth.
And then he blushed beet red, and tried to burrow under the table, as he realised what he'd just had the sheer, mind-boggling audacity to think, and whispered a hurried prayer of mortified apology in the hopes he wasn't about to get smited.
He looked up again a dizzy second later at the sound of sheer, startled laughter, and blinked when he realised that Chuck, faded now again to the appearance of a man, had curled forward and was wiping His eyes helplessly, shaking His head to beam up at Aziraphale. "Oh, Gabriel was so right about you," He muttered under His breath, grinning at him almost helplessly. "Why is that boy always right about things like that?" He shook His head, getting His breathing back under control while Kali held Him up with remote amusement, and reached forward to rest His hand on Aziraphale's trembling shoulder.
"Thank you," Chuck Shurley, Lord of Hosts, whispered softly. Smiling faintly, sadly. "It's not often I sense that my children are proud of me, these days. Thank you, Aziraphale."
"I ... uh ... You're welcome?" he managed to stammer, blushing furiously and clinging tight to his demon's hand. Chuck smiled at them again.
"Well, I have a dance to get to, and a beautiful lady waiting for me," the prophet straightened, smiling shyly up at Kali and bouncing a little on his heels. Grinning again. Normal again. Almost. If he'd ever been anything close. He smiled down at them, and waved as the Destroyer tugged him towards the dance floor with a dark little curl of her lips. "Look after each other, won't you?"
"Yes," Aziraphale answered faintly, hearing the other three echo him in low, fervent tones. Yes. Oh yes. He turned, looking at his shaking demon, and the trembling pair of angels across the table, and held out his hands helplessly between them. Caught Ambriel's in one, Crowley's in the other, watched the three of them link with him in a dazed, rather suddenly sober circle. Felt, unbidden, the grin start to creep across his face, saw it echoed across theirs.
He smiled, ever so faintly, and turned to tug his demon's pale, hopeful face around, to smile into his narrowed golden eyes and lick his lips, grinning as Crowley blinked bemusedly. But right now ... Right now it was a lovely evening. The world around them was mostly happy, Emma Winchester had tied the proverbial knot, Gabriel had been right, whatever that meant, and God Himself had given His blessing on their love. And Aziraphale ... Well, he rather thought he and Crowley should perhaps vacate the area, leave Ambriel and Hadraniel to their own celebrations, and perhaps ... perhaps distract each other in ways not very conducive to a public setting. Possibly with ties.
And judging by the light in Crowley's eyes as he whispered the thought, his demon agreed completely.
