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The butch woman drifted over to stand behind Kane, her eyes flicking over Crowley's name tag. "So you're Dr Crowley," she said. "I've heard of you."
Kane added as an introduction, "This is my Aunt Lil. I think I mentioned her to you once?"
Crowley nodded and lifted his head to meet her eyes. "Rainbow sheep, I believe."
"Yep."
They gazed at each other in silence for a long moment, crooked smiles acknowledging that they were more alike than different. Two old queers, who had seen a lot, dealt with a lot, and come out of it with sheltering starling wings (black, unwanted, but shimmering into rainbows if the light hit right) for the younger ones.
Then Lil grinned. "Pleasure to meet you. Maybe we should have a queer bitching session sometime."
"Perhaps, if my husband's welcome too."
"Absolutely." She nodded, and drifted away in the general direction of the coffee machine, while Kane drew a breath of relief.
The warning summons for the speeches crackled through the announcement system shortly afterwards, and everyone began to move that way.
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They were using the same stage as the one for graduations, and as with those, the seats for current professors were up on the stage.
Beelzebub stalked crisply out of the crowd and up the steps one at a time, small and dark, but full of unquestionable authority.
Anathema left the twins dozing under Newt's watchful fatherly eye and bounced up the stairs two at a time, green skirts swirling around her, and hair fastened back out of the way.
Adam said something quietly to Warlock, who smiled and nodded, and then the pair split, Adam to go up onto the stage and Warlock to cross over to Aziraphale and Crowley.
They said, repeating Adam's quiet words, "The word is that the speakers are going to thank everyone remotely involved - founders, sponsors, professors, students and all. Thought you'd want to know so you don't get surprised by it." They grinned at Crowley. "We know how you feel about being thanked, after all."
Crowley grimaced, but nodded. "Appreciate the warning. See you later, little hellspawn of mine." He turned back to Sue, who was eyeing the ramp up to the stage with due wariness. "If you want," he added, "we can go up it just behind you, and guard your back so nobody can grab your handles and shove you around."
Sue considered that, as Warlock grinned and melted back into the crowd. "That would work, I think," she agreed. "As long as it isn't so steep I roll back into you."
"I'd catch you," Aziraphale offered, his smile warm and wry. "With your permission, of course?"
Some of the tension went out of Sue and she turned her wheelchair to head up the ramp. "Permission granted."
Aziraphale nodded, clearly noting that. He and Crowley glanced at each other, tiny expressions flickering across their faces faster than anyone else could read. Then he began to chatter at length about Shakespeare. "I don't know about all the world being a stage, I'm sure, but the metaphor is very commonly used, so I suppose..."
Crowley threw in an odd phrase or two as he sauntered up, just enough to make it seem like a discussion or an argument rather than a monologue, his mouth tightening as the slope of the ramp put extra strain on his knee. He was very glad when they reached the flat stage itself.
The row of chairs for them wasn't far. Sue parked herself at the end, neatly in line with everyone else. Crowley slouched into another, tucking the stick out of sight beneath it, and Aziraphale sat beside him, not quite touching, but there.
They were nearly done. All they had left to do was to sit through the speeches, and then they could go home and curl up together somewhere comfortable, where neither of them needed to wear invisible masks or make palatable small talk with strangers. Hopefully, it wouldn't take too long.