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Crowley and Aziraphale have been friends for a decade, and in that time have inadvertently but successfully matched most of their friends. Tad and Harriet, Deidre and Arthur, Bee and Gabe, and, most recently, Newt and Anathema, all have happy partnerships thanks to them. Odd, isn’t it, that they’re both single? Aziraphale has a plan to help them both find that happily ever after.
There’s no way this could go wrong. Right? Right.
A Narrative of Certain Events following the Ending of the World (Except Not Quite), as vaguely hinted at in The Slapdash and Not Very Helpful Prophetic Tidbit of Agnes Nutter, Witch (And Matchmaker.)
"Their lives are in horrible, terrible danger that only we can save them from!" Anathema held up the Prophetic Tidbit. "It says so. Right here."
Madame Tracy peered at the page.
Raised a meaningful eyebrow.
"Dearie, as a woman of, well, considerable experience, I really don't think that's what 'the lyttle Deathe' means in this context..."
"Huh." Anathema squinted. Flipped the page. Read another bit. "....huh."
(Or, alternatively: Eight - give or take - matchmakers trying really, really hard, honest; two clueless ethereal/occult beings mutually pining their endless days away; and one witch, who can't leave well enough alone when it comes to matters of the heart, no matter how many centuries ago she died.)