Chapter Text
⁂
Bee and their usual crew (plus Aziraphale) were gathered around their favorite table in the Bull and Fiddle. Granted, it was a little early to be drinking at 4pm on a Wednesday, but it was more of a catch-up meeting than anything. Namely, Ligur and Aziraphale were chomping at the bit for an exposé on the events at the garden gathering, Hastur was ignoring everyone and gnawing on a chicken leg, and Dagon was doing their best to keep order, which currently entailed acting like a harried agent slash-bodyguard-shooing paparazzi away from a Hollywood star.
“I thought you were on a break?” Ligur pressed.
“Did you know it was coming?” Aziraphale leaned forward with his hands clasped, stars in his eyes.
Dagon cleared their throat. “One at a time, please!”
Bee merely shook their head. “We were on a break. I hadn’t talked to him for a few weeks. And then he comes out of left field with...that .”
Ligur nodded appreciatively. Aziraphale practically swooned. Hastur burped.
“Do you think he did plan it? Or was it a spur-of-the-moment romantic inclination?” Aziraphale wondered.
They shrugged. “I don’t know. On one hand, Gabriel rarely thinks with his brain. On the other hand, I can’t see him having the guts to go up in front of everyone without preparing himself first.”
“Are you happier, now that you’re back together?” Ligur rarely wasted time in dithering; he preferred to get straight to the point.
Bee sipped their pint. “Yes.”
Ligur chuckled. “Still! Who could have seen it coming.”
“Crowley did.” Four heads swiveled to stare at Aziraphale. He clasped his hands over his mouth. “I’m sorry!”
Bee narrowed their eyes, shifting on their wooden perch. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, um, he knew—Gabriel—some,” he spluttered to a halt. “Said something about how Gabriel was teaching him about contest rules, and Gabriel being sick, or something, and then one day he suddenly turned his life around. I don’t know. He was terribly vague about it. Seems like they’ve become... friends, sort of.”
Dagon laughed, incredulous. “I’m sorry, are we talking about Gabriel Godwin and Anthony Crowley becoming friends? I’d have sooner believed that pigs flew, to be honest.”
“People do change,” Aziraphale meekly proffered.
“Why would Gabriel need to teach Crowley the rules? They’re competitors, or they were. And besides, the rule book hasn’t changed in more than five years. Crowley should have that thing memorized by now.” Bee crossed their arms.
“So there’s no new complicated new edition that was just released? No book of amendments? Bill of Rights?” Aziraphale confirmed sadly. Ligur made a sympathetic noise.
“No.” Bee cocked their head. “What’s going on between the two of you? One minute you’re tending his garden, next you’re winning a competition together...”
He withdrew. “I don’t know. We’re friends. We went on a date—once—I think? We used to spend a lot of time together. Now he seems to find every excuse not to see me. But he still acts friendly? And then there’s—this garden thing, I had no idea he’d entered me into it, too. Nor do I understand why he’d have to lie about spending time with Gabriel. I’m so confused.” He held his skull like it was coming apart at the seams. “I’m sorry. I’m babbling.”
“You should talk to him,” Hastur suggested mid-chew.
“Great advice, dipshit.” Dagon smacked Hastur on the back of the head, then paused to reconsider. “Actually, no, that is good advice. Talk to him.”
Bee shelled several peanuts in their palm at once with an unsettling splintering sound. “You get in touch with Crowley. I’ll pick Gabriel’s brain to see what he knows. Then we can meet up, compare notes. What say you?”
“Oh, would you?” Aziraphale looked relieved. “I would appreciate that very much.”
“It’s a deal.” They shook on it. Aziraphale tactfully brushed off peanut-shell fragments on the back of his trousers.
⁂
Anathema looked up from the banner she was paper-machéing. “Hey. Where are all the balloons?”
Nobody said anything. Newt, Tracy, and Shadwell shared suspicious glances. The Them remained silent.
She turned her gaze on the kids. “Where did the balloons go?”
Pepper and Brian giggled. Wensley looked angelic. Adam was conspicuously absent.
“I promise I won’t get mad. But you gotta tell me right now.”
All three looked at each other and bolted into the back garden, whooping and laughing. They scattered in a manner that was clearly designed to dissuade pursuit. She followed after them, shouting, “You get back in here, right now!” She turned to the other adults. Newt looked perplexed. Tracy looked exhausted. Shadwell was carefully examining his fingernails.
“Thomas,” Tracy began. “Where’s the tank of helium I asked you to pick up from the store?”
“I, erm,” he nibbled at his nails, “I asked the children to take care of it. Bit of trouble lifting it out of the boot, what with my back...” He looked up and then away again, as Marjorie’s stare was drilling holes in his head. “Figured the four of ‘em could handle it.”
Newt was aghast. “They’re eleven !”
“They’re perfectly capable!” Shadwell argued. “Why, I had my first job at eleven...”
Anathema waved her hands as if to clear the air. “We don’t have time for this! Split up. Find Adam. Get the other three back inside, if you can.”
They tromped off. Newt was the first to wrestle a door open, and let out a long, slow breath. “Ana? I found the balloons...”
Tracy opened the door to the basement and squealed as she was accosted with a faceful of colorful latex. Balloons of every size and color came bursting up toward the ceiling, making hollow thunk!s as they bounced off the walls and furniture.
“Adam, when I find you, you are so dead !” Anathema bellowed. The only response was a high-pitched cackle that seemed to come from everywhere. She started wrestling through the balloons, shoving through them as they bounced into each other and then right back at her. Newt seemed to be struggling behind her. There was a hiss of escaping air, and a sound not unlike flatulence as a filled balloon was released and went ricocheting around the room. More laughter.
“You have entered my domain! Muahaha!” said a chipmunk-esque voice over a set of tinny speakers. Then there came a loud bass booming. The overhead lights flicked off and everything was inconsistently illuminated by impressive black-and-white strobe lights.
“Where did he get that?!” Anathema yelled over the din
“Picked ‘em up at a rummage sale!” Shadwell called back.
“Can anyone get the lights?”
“I think I’m gonna be sick,” Newt moaned.
Adam’s cronies rushed back into the room, running circles around the adults, by the sound of their laughter. Tracy tripped over what was either a small box or footstool and swore with some ferocity. More farting balloons went flying about.
Shadwell managed to flick on the light switch just as Anathema pulled the plug on the speakers, bringing music and strobes to a screeching halt.
The kids, who were wearing cheap Halloween masks and who had covered their arms and legs in craft paint, froze in place.
“You. Are In. So Much Trouble ,” Anathema said, batting away balloons as the static electricity stuck them to her hair, drawing it away from her face in an angry cloud.
Brian flipped up his green Power Rangers mask. “Aw, we were just having fun.”
Wensleydale raised his hand. “Actually, we did blow the balloons up. Just like you asked.”
“To the sink, all of you, and wash off that paint. March,” Tracy instructed.
Once they had left, Anathema sagged. Newt patted her back in an attempt to comfort her.
“I’m gonna lose it. I’m actually going to lose my mind,” she huffed.
“It’s not all bad!” Newt assured her. “Look, we can still tie strings around the ends of these.” He glared and made a ‘cease’ motion at Shadwell, who hurriedly let go of the balloon he was holding and returned his witchfinder’s pin to his breast pocket.
“This party had better damn well be worth it.”
⁂
Gabriel sat cross-legged on his sofa, wearing a small pair of glasses and fixating on his laptop screen, which displayed a complex-looking spreadsheet.
Bee yawned and draped themself over the sofa, mussing up Gabriel’s hair with their fingertips. “What’re you working on?”
“Nothing much, just the marketing budget for next month.”
“Sounds boring.” They scratched his scalp a little.
He leaned back and sighed, removing his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Very much so.”
“You coming to bed?”
“Yeah, yeah. ‘Minute.” He tapped out a few numbers and frowned.
“Oh, yeah, I was talking to that Fell guy today. Friend of Crowley’s?”
“Hm?” He refreshed a page.
“Yeah. Said Crowley knew something about your stunt from the other day.”
Gabriel closed his laptop and turned his full attention to Bee. “He did? How?”
“Beats me. You were teaching Crowley some kind of contest rules while you were sick? And then you were fine, and Crowley somehow divined that it had to do with me. Couldn’t make head or tail of it, honestly.” They jumped over the couch from behind and sat cross-legged, playing with one of Gabriel’s hands.
“I never taught him anything. He did come over once, right after our argument. I’m sure I wasn’t in the best shape. It was,” he coughed, “a little embarrassing. But anyway, Crowley kept going on and on about this party he was hosting. I pointed out if he did this, he would lose the contest, and he just said that his friend was more important than some prize would ever be. And I think then I started to realize how stupid I’d been, and that I needed a way to make it up to you.” He kissed Bee on the forehead.
Bee sighed. “Then I supposed I’m indebted to Crowley, now. And you know I hate that.” Gabriel just chuckled. “Why do you think he’s making up this story about you and him being such great study-buddies?”
“Who understands anything that Crowley thinks about? Man’s certifiable.” If Gabriel had been paying attention, he might have noticed that Bee was making a face people only make when they are starting to put together the last couple pieces of a puzzle.
“Gabe. Shut up.” They smacked his arm, fidgeting excitedly. “It’s a surprise party. Aziraphale doesn’t know! Crowley’s trying to throw him off the scent.”
Gabriel was perplexed. “Why? Is it Aziraphale’s birthday, or something?”
“No, you idiot!” They leapt to their feet. “Aziraphale tells me they went on a date, or a sort-of date. But Crowley’s been acting weird and distant because of his idiot secret party. So Aziraphale thinks maybe Crowley’s leading him on. Crowley doesn’t realize they went on a date, but he does like Aziraphale, and is using this party as a chance to show him that.”
“Good for him?” You could lead a Gabriel to water, but he was going to stare at you like an addled cow while you laid everything out for him.
“It’s driving the little bastard crazy. You’ve never seen someone so bent out of shape.” Their partner shrugged, as if he couldn’t see any reason this was his problem. “Gabriel. We have to help them figure it out. They got us back together, we return the favor. Capische? I’m not having this hanging over my head.”
Gabriel sighed. “All right, if I see an opening, I’ll offer to help. Party’s tomorrow, anyway. Not sure how much more we could do.”
“Then we’re both going.” He opened his mouth to argue. “No buts!”
⁂
Madame Tracy was marching up and down the cottage with her clipboard, checking and double-checking the things on her list, which now resembled an ancient scroll covered in hieroglyphics more than a yellow legal pad. “And Aziraphale will arrive at...” Tracy furrowed her brow. “When does he get here, again?”
“He’ll get here when...” Crowley trailed off, holding out an icing knife. “Oh. Fuck.”
Newt winced. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
“I fucking forgot to invite him.”
Anathema turned very very slowly to stare at him. “You forgot. To invite Aziraphale. To the party you are hosting specifically for him .”
“You may be a clever lad, but sometimes you’re not very bright,” Shadwell put in.
The knife clattered on the counter with a dull metal sound. “I’m sorry! With all the secret secrecy stuff, I was just focused on keeping him out of it. I forgot I’d actually have to get him there... without saying what we were really doing...”
“Well!” Tracy barked, making a shooing motion at him. “Go call him! Pray that he doesn’t have something better planned on Saturday!”
Someone’s phone buzzed and they all slapped their pockets. Crowley emerged triumphant. “Wait! Everyone shut up. It’s Aziraphale.” He smashed the phone to his ear, then scrambled to a corner of the room.
“Uncanny timing!” Newt noticed.
Tracy sighed. “I suppose if he’s busy, we can still all go and eat cake.”
⁂
Aziraphale picked up the phone, heart hammering.
He was more nervous, somehow, than the time he’d asked Crowley out to dinner-and-stargazing. Perhaps this was higher stakes.
“ ‘Lo? Aziraphale!!” Crowley was as effusive as ever. “Been meaning to talk to you!”
“As have I. Crowley, I—um—”
There was a lot of rustling from his friend’s side of the line. It almost sounded like he was shushing someone.
“Listen, I have to ask a favor,” Crowley ploughed straight ahead. “I need you to go with me to the Tadfield Community Center on Saturday, because there’s going to be a—” He hesitated, or perhaps the connection was bad. “A careers fair. Yeah. I’m looking for a new... job. And this seemed like a good place to start. But I didn’t want to go by myself, because I hate meeting strangers.”
“A careers fair.”
“Yup.”
“To get a job.”
“Yup.”
Aziraphale sighed and scratched the back of his head. “I suppose so? I don’t have anything else planned. Not really my idea of a fun afternoon. But sure. I’ll go.”
Crowley sounded thoroughly relieved. “Thank you! You’re a real lifesaver.” He fumbled with something in the foreground. “It’s, um, formal-ish. So dress... smart?”
“Okay?” This was getting stranger by the minute. “Listen, Crowley, I have to—”
There was a proper crash on Crowley’s end. It sounded like an elephant had just discovered pane glass. “So sorry, I can’t stay long, sort of in the middle of something here. Just meet me there at 4 p.m. on Saturday. Go ahead and walk through the big doors. I’ll wave at you when you come in. Okay! Bye.”
“But!” The line died. Aziraphale put his head in his hands.
⁂
Crowley hung up the call, breathless.
Newt and Anathema, who had been practically biting their fists, now looked at each other and broke into open guffaws. Newt was still sprawled on the floor next to the pile of bins he’d knocked over in his attempt at a casual lean. Shadwell tittered from the arts-and-crafts table, where he was putting his scissors to good use cutting colorful pieces of paper into confetti.
“You told him you were going to a jobs fair ?!” Tracy bellowed.
“I panicked!”
“That’s evident.”
Anathema held up her hand. She was intent on reading something on her phone. “Uhh, guys. I’ve got bad news.” Her face was scrunched up into a wince.
“What now!” Crowley groaned.
“The florist just texted. She’s really sick and wasn’t able to get the centerpieces done. Her assistant will be driving down with what she’s got, plus the refund for your deposit and for the missing flowers. But... we’re on our own for the rest of it.”
“Oh dear.” Madame Tracy murmured as Crowley cursed loudly and flopped down onto his couch.
“Can you make them yourself?” Newt asked.
“No. I don’t have enough flowers.” Crowley seemed to be sinking further and further into the cushions, his voice becoming forlorn. “The party is ruined,” he said dramatically.
“Good God.” Tracy rolled her eyes. She stalked over to Crowley, grabbed him by his boney shoulders and shook him sharply. “Pull yourself together! Who do we know that has a background in flower arranging? Who has recently become our ally? Who suggested that florist in the first place?”
Crowley blinked at her. He looked a bit dazed from all the shaking. “Gabriel?” he guessed.
“Yes! Gabriel.” She pulled him to his feet. “Call him now.”
“Yes.” Crowley just barely stopped himself from adding ‘ma’am’. He scrambled over to his phone and quickly picked Gabriel’s number from his contact list.
“Gabriel Godwin speaking.”
“Hi, Gabriel. You remember how you said you’d help with the party?”
“Of course. But isn’t it tomorrow?”
“Yeah. I, uh, I need your help. Sort of an emergency.”
“What’s happened?”
“Sick florist. No centerpieces. I don’t have enough flowers to make them myself.”
“Oh, no. That is a problem.” There was a pause and Crowley would hear Gabriel speaking to someone else but couldn’t make out the words. “You’ll need flowers?”
“Yes, and someone to help me arrange them,” Crowley said hopefully.
“Bee and I will be right over. I’ll call around to the other neighbors and see how many flowers we can get.”
“Thank you so much,” Crowley said, feeling as if he could finally breathe again. “I’ll cut down any usable flowers from my own garden.”
“Don’t worry, Crowley. We’ll have those centerpieces done in time.”
⁂
Gabriel and Bee arrived with buckets of fresh-picked flowers from various gardens around the village. Crowley could spy out Maud’s prize winning sunflowers, Gabriel’s pink roses, Bee’s gardenias, and even Linda’s gladiolus. Gabriel immediately doled out sets of flowers to Anathema, Newt, Tracy, and Shadwell, who set to work copying Gabriel’s design.
“Hi, Bee,” Crowley sighed. “Come to gloat?”
“If that’s the way you treat everyone who shows up to help you, I’m surprised you have any friends left at all.” Crowley scoffed at them. Usually that kind of derision would get Bee’s hackles up, but instead they softened. “What is all this for, anyway?”
He sniffed. “Don’t see why it should matter to you.”
They pulled him roughly aside. “It’s come to my attention that I may have you partially to thank for a recent turn in my affairs.”
“Oh. Yeah. Congratulations on... that,” he said, waving vaguely at Gabriel, who was utterly absorbed in tying up bouquets with shiny purple ribbon. “Many happy solicitations, or whatever. Why does it have to be a party for something? It’s a surprise party. It’s supposed to be surprising. Anyway, the party hardly matters. Everything’s going to fall apart on me.”
“Eyes on me,” Bee snapped. He obliged, meeting their steely blue stare with more than a hint of misgiving. “Does Anthony Crowley fucking give up on something that matters?”
“Yeees,” he nodded. Bee glared harder. “Nooo,” he shook his head.
“And when things get difficult, we?”
“Keep trying and don’t abandon it,” he said, sullen.
“And is this going to be the best party Aziraphale, and the rest of Tadfield, has ever seen?”
He protested: “How do you know about—” They snapped right in his face, and Crowley shut his trap and just nodded.
“That’s what I thought. Now, get back to work. We have flowers to arrange.”
⁂
The planning party stayed up just past three in the morning, before collapsing around the house, piled onto recliners and sofas or bundled up in blankets on the floor.
Tracy dragged herself awake at eight and was able to rouse Gabriel. The two of them poked and prodded the other party members until they got out of their makeshift beds and sleepwalked into their morning routines.
Anathema asked Tracy to curl her hair, since it was too early to tell the difference between the handle and the business end of the iron. She sat, squinting bleakly into Crowley’s bathroom mirror. Newt told her she looked something along the lines of ‘adorably disheveled’ and was treated to a killer sleep-deprived side-eye.
Bee and Gabriel did their best to pile the flowers and decorations into various automobiles, alongside Shadwell, who didn’t seem to feel the lack of sleep at all. In fact he was nauseatingly chipper, and merely grinned like the Cheshire Cat when he was caught out ladling half of Crowley’s sugar container into his cup of breakfast tea.
By the time they got Crowley behind the wheel of the Bentley, it was nearly ten a.m. They arrived at the venue, and levered open the doors of the Community Center, walking straight into the center of the room and turning a full circle to take stock of all they could see.
All the lights were off. Tables were folded and stacked in piles five deep. The chairs, too, were lined up along the walls. A large dust bunny rolled mournfully through the center of the hall.
Tracy, per usual, launched straight into action. “All right, everyone! First things first, we’ll need tables up and tablecloths on. Six chairs per table, please! We’ll need two of you to set up the stage and get the lights and electrical hooked up. Decor crews get started after that. Caterers are getting here at three, musicians at three-thirty. I want everything in tip-top shape before then, got it?” There was a melody of fatigued acknowledgement as the crew set about their tasks.
Crowley groaned. It would take a miracle to pull this party off.
⁂
It wasn’t long before they all realized they’d need more hands on deck. Bee called up their friends and sibling, who rallied and arrived in short order. Dagon set right to work on the glitchy electricals and pulled Ligur in as their assistant. Hastur proved to have some uncanny strength, and was soon lifting and adjusting heavy ABS tables as though they were made of plywood.
Gabriel made a few charismatic calls out to the community. He was able to coax Maud and Leslie to come in early; Maud was delighted to hang streamers and set out vases on the tables, Leslie had once worked food service and was happy to help the caterers arrange their equipment according to code. He’d also brought a few trays of his famous brownies to share. Mary Hodges was a veritable bloodhound for presentation equipment, and she showed up with a projector and screen which she used to rebroadcast the PowerPoint she’d made for the Gardening Showcase.
Gabriel even convinced Linda Dorne to help, claiming that nobody ‘quite shared her eye for interior design’. This was just enough flattery for her to show up and start bossing everyone around, much to Tracy’s annoyance.
Mrs. Young pulled up out front and an innumerable quantity of children spilled out of the car. She seemed mostly grateful to have an afternoon of free babysitting, and waved briefly at Madame Tracy before speeding off.
The Them and a few of their school frenemies spent a brief, productive hour setting out the treasures they’d procured on Crowley’s behalf and tacking some glitter-glued posters to the walls. Then they’d gotten distracted creating an elaborate political system based on the colors of balloons they held, consequently hosting raids on one anothers’ stashes and capturing hostages.
Things were finally starting to come together. Then there came the malignant click-clack of a set of sharp heels.
Heads turned. In walked Michael Godwin, gleeful, clipboard in hand, with a jubilant R. P. Tyler at her side.
Catching her brother’s eye, she merely sneered at him and Bee. Gabriel shook his head at her.
She gave a haughty once-over to the proceedings. “How... charming,” she sniffed. “Seems like you all have really tried your hardest to put together this—gathering.” One half of the SURPRISE! banner came un-tacked, fluttering limply. “I’m here to give you all the relief you so clearly need.” She gave an unfriendly smile to Anathema, who was struggling to keep her eyes open. “You see, this party has been put to rest. Your permit to use this space is formally revoked.”
There was a gasp of outrage from the crowd.
“Now, see here, lass!” Shadwell barked, pointing an accusing finger. “These people have worked hard to put this event together! There’s no cause to come in here and meddle where you have no right.”
“Actually, I have every right.” Her smile was thinner and sharper than razor wire. “This event isn’t up to code. In the interest of safety, and to protect the public of Tadfield, I have full authority to shut down any gathering I see fit.”
“That’s right!” Tyler cheered.
“Prove it.”
“Excuse me?”
Ligur stood from the table where he was carefully mending a frayed electrical cord. He took a few slow steps toward her. “I said, prove it. Show us the covenant we’re supposedly violating.”
She spluttered like a faulty engine. “Prove?! I don’t have to prove anything! As far as you’re all concerned, my word is law!”
“Where’s the contract, Michael?” Gabriel had taken his own stand, setting down a basket of ornate wrapped chocolates. “You know, the one I forwarded you to sign? Concerning the rental of one Tadfield Community Center for September the 7th?”
“Contract?” Her head whipped back and forth, watching as others began to rise. “Whose side are you on, Gabriel?”
“Answer the question!” Dagon shouted from the back.
“Breach of contract is a very serious accusation, Michael.” Bee reached for Gabriel’s hand and stood with him. “Surely you can point to the exact clause you suspect us to be in violation of?”
Madame Tracy sat on a table with her arms crossed. “I know I submitted all of my permits on time. In fact, I made copies. And I have them right here.” She dug into her overlarge purse and produced a manila folder, then dropped it on the tabletop with a satisfying thwack.
Crowley was watching the proceedings with growing delight.
“Answer the woman,” Ligur seconded.
“You—I’ll—I’ll have the police involved!” Michael fumed.
“They won’t come,” Hastur said. He wasn’t really paying attention to anything that was going on, just picking at his fingernails with a pocketknife. “Not without clear evidence of wrongdoing. But you don’t have that, do you, Michael?”
Tyler was looking less and less sure of himself. He was scanning the faces of his one-time restrained and predictable neighbors, who seemed to have all turned against the forces of Law and Order. He glanced up at Michael for reassurance.
“This isn’t over!” she snapped. “I’ll have you know—”
“Oh, it’s done, all right.” Newton Pulsifer strode forward toward her, without a flinch or a stammer to be seen. “Now, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
There was a small ‘Yes!’ from the corner, where Anathema had apparently awoken from her midday drowse to witness an historic event.
“It’s time to go. Both of you.” With that, Gabriel made a little shooing motion at his sister, who had gone ghost-white with shock and rage, and Tyler, who was already edging backward toward the doorway.
Michael stood stock-still for a moment, dumbfounded, before curling her lips into a grimace, turning on her heel, and marching out without another word.
“Come back with a warrant!” Dagon called after her. The audience laughed and cheered.
⁂
At 4 pm sharp, the front doors creaked open. In walked a cautious, dapper figure. Crowley’s heart leapt into his mouth and he staggered to his feet.
“Hi, Aziraphale!” he borderline-shouted.
“Surprise !” the town echoed. Tracy, Anathema and the rest waved enthusiastically.
A slow progression of expressions graced the guest of honor’s face. First, pure shock and surprise, as he processed the chorus of voices bellowing at him. Then, wonder as he took in the explosion of color and masses of decorations. Confusion, as he shook his head from side to side. And then he put a hand to his mouth and began to cry, retreating backwards from the scene.
Ah, shit . Crowley rushed to his side, guiding Aziraphale by the hand into a dimly-lit side room.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, trying to pat Aziraphale’s back in a comforting manner.
“I thought... I thought you were all avoiding me because you didn’t want to be my friends anymore!” he wailed. “I shouldn’t... I was so stupid, I should have trusted you...”
“Oh, no.” He hadn’t even considered that. “Aziraphale, this was all for you! I meant it to be a surprise.”
“All this?” Aziraphale looked out toward the hall, where the children’s earnest decorations could be seen and a quiet cacophony of sound lurked just around the corner. “For me? Why?”
“Um, I dunno. Seemed like you were feeling down for a while and I... I wanted you to feel properly welcome here.” Crowley scratched at his ear, feeling awkward. “Yeah, and then it picked up speed and a bunch of other people got involved. I think it maybe got a bit out of hand.”
He pressed his face between his hands, laughter brightening his tearstained face. “ ‘A bit out of hand?’ Crowley, you are so...”
He waited on bated breath for the answer. Aziraphale was still giggling and wiping his eyes. “Yes? I’m what, now?”
Aziraphale caught his face in both hands and kissed him.
Crowley floundered, forgetting what he was supposed to do with his hands. Aziraphale pulled him in closer and suddenly all that didn’t matter anymore.
They broke for air. Aziraphale had looped both arms around his waist and was now snuggled into his shoulder. Crowley’s heart was still pounding, but it all felt very natural, as if they’d been meaning to do this for a long time. He returned the favor, resting his hand on Aziraphale’s back and feeling his breathing even out to calmness.
Aziraphale pulled back to look Crowley in the eyes. “This was all a very sweet gesture. And! Don’t you ever try to surprise me again,” he scolded him with mock-sternness.
“I won’t. Scout’s honor,” Crowley replied when he’d regained his senses. “I’ve been dying to tell you about it for weeks.”
Aziraphale straightened his tie and attempted to brush imaginary wrinkles out of his coat. “Well. As much as I’d like to stay here in the dark and catch up with you, I suppose we had better get back to your party.”
“If you’re sure?” Crowley’s brow furrowed. “It’s not too late to cancel, you know. I can tell everyone to shove off home and take a piece of cake and a plate of leftovers with them. Not a moment’s worry.”
“I think,” he mused, tapping Crowley’s chest, “that you would have a lot of very unhappy guests. It seems practically everyone in town has worked hard to put whatever this is together! Also, I think the band’s starting up, and I’d hate to miss the music.”
Crowley stood and offered him his arm. “Fair enough. And I did sort-of learn how to waltz for the occasion.”
“You what!” Aziraphale’s eyes glittered with amusement. “Anthony Crowley, I believe we’ll make a romantic out of you yet.”
His host scrunched his mouth like an accordion. “Point of interest, are we a ‘thing’? Like, uh, a dating-thing?”
He gets a puzzled look in return. “Yes? I thought we had been for a while?”
“Oh. I hadn’t realized.”
“Ohhh.” Aziraphale scratched at his chin. “Kiss too soon then?”
“Kiss perfectly timed, I think.” He fidgeted with the hem of his jacket. “It’s just... on second thought, I thought this might all seem like an elaborate ploy to get in your pants. Or something. It wasn’t.”
“Do you want to? ‘Get in my pants’?”
Crowley felt his face embark on a long and weary journey as he attempted to process this. Finally, he ended up with an intelligent “Ghhhh?”
Aziraphale grinned wickedly and patted his cheek. “Only teasing, dear.”
“I—I started this whole thing, because—” He could feel his breath growing short, his treacherous throat closing up on him. He soldiered on. “Because I want you to know that you’re my best friend, and I love you, and lots of other people here love you too. That you’ll always have a home here. In Tadfield.” His hands balled involuntarily into fists, and he swung his arms aimlessly. “I don’t know if that makes sense.”
Aziraphale’s hand found his, fingers tracing down his wrist and entwining with his own. “It makes perfect sense, my love. Crystal clear.”
⁂
They emerged into the light and chaos of the festivities. Guests were now enthusiastically mingling, having been saturated with enough pastries and fine-quality social lubricant to be interested in making small talk with relative strangers. Gabriel appeared to be boring his small audience with tales of daring real-estate conquests. Standing beside him was a boy who might be his nephew, Warlock. The boy in question had a large biscuit in one hand and a handheld video game in the other, and appeared to be giving the proceedings not one ounce of his attention.
Hastur and Dagon appeared to have wrangled several bottles of stout and were having an impromptu drinking contest as Ligur timed them, looking as intent upon form and philosophy as if he were keeping score for a high-stakes football match. Bee watched their antics with crossed arms and an expression of affectionate disdain.
Leslie and Maud were reprising their role as the Besotted Couple; they had their arms tangled around each other in gooey devotion. Maud was showing a bit more heavily and had elected to show that off in a lovely floral maternity blouse. They were listening to Mary Hodges, who, if the set of her jaw and her excited pacing had anything to say about it, was practicing a pitch for some sort of board meeting. She seemed rather happy just to have someone listen to her.
Shadwell was at a table of his own, consuming a mountain of small treacle cakes stacked on top of each other. He was so thoroughly engrossed in his pursuit that Aziraphale briefly wondered if he’d figure out a way to unhinge his jaw and swallow the plate whole. Speaking of—
“Is Crawly attending this party, then?”
Crowley laughed and shook his head. “She’s safely stowed at home. Figured we didn’t need any of her antics to liven up tonight.”
“Well, if you ever need a conversational escape hatch, I find that runaway reptiles are hard to beat.”
“Hi, Mr. Fell!” Wensleydale said upon noticing the pair, waving with such gusto he almost knocked over Linda Dorne’s pudding. The rest of the Them, having been alerted, crowded round Aziraphale.
“Is it your birthday, then?” Pepper demanded to know.
“No, I’m afraid not.” He smiled at their perplexed expressions.
“What are you sad about?” Brian probed, noticing his blotchy face. “Are you going away?”
“Not sad, dear boy, not even a bit! Just the opposite, in fact. I think I’ve decided to stay here for good.”
“Cool, whatever,” Adam interrupted. “C’mon, we made you some stuff.” He grabbed Aziraphale by the arm and forcibly dragged him to a small side table where the children’s gifts were displayed.
There was the moustache heart, a plastic bag full of seeds with GOOD PEAR SEEDS written on it in emphatic Sharpie marker, and a standing-up card with a flattened red begonia on its crinkled brown-bag cover. ‘Happy Birthday, Azeerfel,’ was written on it in painstaking cursive.
“Apparently it’s not actually your birthday,” Pepper said, “so I guess you can have it for whenever your birthday actually is.”
“We did steal the flowers,” Adam announced with a tinge of boasting in his voice. “Crowley put us in trouble for it, and then we had to go apologize to Mr. Gabriel for stealing ‘em.”
Wensleydale had dragged Mr. and Mrs. Wensleydale over to show off his lizard-branch. Mrs. Wensleydale examined it from all angles. “Uncanny! This oak branch appears to exactly mimic a member of the genus Zootoca , species name vivipara , if I’m not mistaken.”
“I thought so, too!” Wensleydale grinned.
“The eyes are a nice touch,” his father added, ruffling his son’s hair. “Nice work, Youngster!”
Pepper held out a mostly-clean napkin to Aziraphale, who was getting teary-eyed again. He thanked her and dabbed at his face.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“Excellent! Thank you,” he sniffled. “Thank you all for sharing these with me.”
“All right, all right. Why don’t you four get into trouble somewhere else?” Crowley guided his new...boyfriend? away from the kids, who were now having a row about which superpowers were ideal and which were for dummies. He was trying not to tear up himself, which was, of course, ridiculous. Instead, he pressed a glass of wine into Aziraphale’s hand, who accepted it gratefully, and took one for himself.
Kay the origami instructor spotted Crowley and waved at the couple. “Hi, Crowley! Congrats on your engagement. I see your swans have come a long way!”
“Oh, we’re not—” Crowley fumbled. Aziraphale elbowed him.
“Thank you,” he told them, returning a gracious smile.
“But it’s—” Crowley protested, once Kay had gone. “Then they’ll think—”
“I hardly think it matters, do you?” Aziraphale asked, urging him along. “Let the people have their fun.”
They caught sight of Newt and Anathema, both of whom looked exhausted and were sipping very pink cocktails.
“Hello, you two!”
Newt whipped his head around. “Aziraphale! We’ve been planning a surprise party for you! We couldn’t invite you over because then you would figure it out! Anathema and I aren’t on a break! We had to let you believe it so you wouldn’t ask prying questions! I hate lying, I’ve been dying to tell you about it all! Oogh,” he finished, forehead slumping against the table. Anathema patted his back.
“I must say, this is a spectacular party. I’m sure you all had quite a large hand in planning it. Thank you both so much,” Aziraphale smiled at the young couple.
“Of course,” Anthema grinned back at him. “You’ve been a good friend to all of us, and we wanted to make sure Tadfield felt like home to you.” Newt weakly nodded his agreement.
Aziraphale swirled his wine thoughtfully. “I have to ask, were you two ever really fighting?”
Newt exchanged an uncomfortable glance with Crowley. Anathema burst out laughing. “No, we weren’t. That was all the work of Crowley’s panicked mind.”
“Oh dear, I must have seemed like such a fool, giving you relationship advice.” Aziraphale’s cheeks had gone a little pink.
“Not at all! I actually enjoyed your advice, especially the antique erotica you showed me.” Newt’s jaw dropped. Anathema just giggled at him.
“You showed her what ?” Crowley gaped at Aziraphale.
“My antique erotica collection, dear.” He gave Crowley’s hand a light pat. “I’ll be sure to show it to you sometime.” Aziraphale winked and Crowley seemed to choke on air.
⁂
Aziraphale was sampling meat pies by the refreshment table. He could see Crowley across the room arm wrestling Adam. The children had all but dragged Crowley away from Aziraphale, demanding that he take part in their antics.
“Do you like it?” Aziraphale turned to see Madame Tracy smiling at him.
“Oh yes, these pies are scrummy!”
“I mean the party, dear. But I’m glad you’re enjoying the catering.” She took a bite out of her own pie.
“It’s wonderful,” Aziraphale couldn’t help but blush. “I could never have dreamed of having such an extravagant party thrown for me.”
Tracy laughed. “If Crowley would of had it his way this party would be much more extravagant. He wanted ice sculptures and caviar.”
“Oh dear.” Aziraphale murmured. He glanced over at Crowley who was now cheering Pepper on as she arm wrestled Newt. What a kind and wonderful man , Aziraphale thought a bit dreamily. “Did you help keep him on the right track?”
Tracy smiled ruefully. “Sometimes. But often I was right along with him.” She paused thoughtfully for a moment, “he does care for you so much. With my romantic heart, it was hard for me to say no to him.”
“I can’t fault you,” Aziraphale chuckled. “I wouldn’t have been able to tell him no either. You all did an excellent job planning it. I’ve never been to a better party.”
⁂
There was a shriek of microphone feedback. “Hi,” said Adam, voice booming across the crowded hall.
Arthur made a motion as if to rise to his feet. Deirdre grabbed his arm and sat him back down.
“We suppose you’re wondering why we invited you all here today,” Adam continued. “Me ‘n Brian, Pepper, and Wensleydale wanted to throw this awesome party for our friend Mr. Crowley.”
Brian swung the spotlight around to land on Crowley, who was glaring daggers at the kids. Aziraphale nudged him, laughing. Anathema had her face buried in both hands.
“Yeah, he’s way cooler than all of you guys. No offense. Even if he does yell at us sometimes.” There was another screech as Wensleydale plugged something into the audio system. “So we’re gonna play one of the best songs for him.”
The familiar opening strains of We Will Rock You came blasting over the speakers.
“We know you know it!” Adam called, trying to get the crowd riled up. “Go ahead and sing along, please!”
The band members looked at each other, shrugged, and joined in as orchestral accompaniment. The baffled adult guests joined in to the familiar rhythm of stomp-stomp clap, stomp-stomp clap.
“Stupid kids,” Crowley muttered, but Aziraphale could see he was grinning from ear to ear.
⁂
Eventually, the children finished their spirited rendition (complete with enthusiastic air guitar). The music tapered off to quiet, with some of the guests laughing and others muttering about ‘what exactly was going on here.’
“Thank you, thank you!” Adam said. “We’ll be here all week.”
Pepper grabbed the microphone. “Happy not-birthday, Mr. Aziraphale!”
Wensleydale jostled for his turn. “Hi Mr. Fell! Hi Newt! Hi Crowley! Hi Anathema! Hi Mum! Hi Dad!”
“FIGHT THE POWER!!” Brian yelled into the mic, doing his best impression of devils’ horns.
Arthur Young had new extricated himself from his wife’s grasp and was striding across the room toward them.
“Bye everyone!” Adam concluded. He dropped the mic and the four scattered, laughing uproariously as they evaded Adam’s father.
“Well, I think that was quite enough excitement for one everning,” Tracy said. She was now well into her third champagne flute and had much recovered her usual good humor.
Having finished their foray into classic rock, the band was now starting up their first formal waltz of the night. Tracy gave Crowley a Meaningful Look and tapped her watch.
“Aziraphale. Would you, um,” Crowley stood back, offering a hand like he’d practiced with Newt. “Would you like to dance?”
He looked absolutely smitten. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Crowley led him out to the center of the dance floor. At first, he was painfully aware of everyone watching them. But all of it melted away when Aziraphale took his hand and looked up at him, serene and patient.
“Fair warning,” Crowley told him, “I will probably step on your toes.”
Aziraphale stepped nearer, taking hold in closed position like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Crowley, my dear,” he smiled. “Let me lead.”
And, Crowley mused, perhaps the best miracles in the world were the ones you made yourself.
⁂