homecomings [ichabod x abbie]
From the moment they nearly missed the shuttle to JFK because Ichabod was arguing with a nearby nine-to-fiver in a suit about the unfairness of the present American legal system, and subsequently sat in traffic with his stare boring into the backs of their heads because of course he was on the same bus, Abbie began to lose her confidence that this would actually work out. This was shaping up to be just as complicated as any of their demon-fighting escapades (not least because Ichabod kept whipping his head around to stare suspiciously at innocent passersby, and it was freaking her out) even though it was supposed to be, for once in their ridiculous lives, fun. She had promised Ichabod that she would take him to Oxford for his Christmas present, and was now doing (or attempting to do) just that. But the prospect of loading Ichabod Crane aboard a transatlantic flight with carefully minted but obviously fake ID documents, while getting him to shut up and/or not say something unfortunate at the exact wrong moment, and not being met on arrival by MI6 or Interpol, was one to boggle even a professional.
Fortunately, Abbie supposed, she was nothing if not that. Getting Ichabod a passport in the first place had been hell and a half; she had to invent all sorts of stories about him being raised in a commune and having no official birth certificate or vital records, while he huffed disapprovingly in the background. Since he was so obviously British, she had thought about approaching the consulate in New York City, but then they would ask even more difficult questions, and with Ichabod being unable to provide proof whatsoever that he existed, they would justly get extremely suspicious. It was best to keep this in Sleepy Hollow, where she could exert at least some control over it, and with Irving’s help, they eventually decided that Ichabod was a naturalized U.S. citizen (he had been in the country since before its actual founding, and for several centuries) who had been born in Britain. (Abbie didn’t know if there were communes in Britain, especially in the starchly proper part of Wiltshire Ichabod originated from, and it made her head hurt, but never mind.) That way, they were able to acquire him an American passport, complete with a picture of Ichabod looking like a deer in the headlights, which was perfectly legal insofar as long as you ignored that everything in it was a lie. Nor did Abbie think that her “born with the hippies” cover story was going to fly very far if anyone started digging. Though Ichabod, with his ratty ponytail, predilection for vintage clothing and total disdain for modern life, could possibly pull it off.