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Summary
"So you’re telling me that my options are either to convince this man I just met and drunkenly married to stay married to me for six months or lose two thirds of a billion pounds?”
“That’s exactly what I’m telling you,” Fergus said.
“Fucking shit,” Crowley spat.
He hung up the phone and stared at it for a moment before rubbing his eyes with his fists. Now his job would be twice as hard. He needed to talk Aziraphale into staying married for six months. Should he try begging or bribing? This was a huge ask, and Aziraphale would be well within his rights to tell Crowley to fuck off. But Crowley was prepared to offer him pretty much anything, up to half of the trust, if that’s what it took. He didn’t care.
But that was only part of his concern. Even if he got insanely lucky and Aziraphale agreed to stay legally married to him for the next six months, how the hell was he going to talk Aziraphale into dating him during that time? And was it foolish to even try?
One thing at a time, he decided. First, he needed to convince Aziraphale to stay legally married to him. Then he could set about wooing his husband. He hoped.