Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Day Zero

Crowley had made plenty of dumb decisions in his existence. Some of those decisions had been made on a whim, or out of sheer morbid curiosity. 

That day he had to admit was probably his worst decision to date. 

It had started out normal enough. Well, as normal as it had been since a certain angel decided to up and leave town… Earth actually. 

It had been three months. He had just been going through the motions since then. 

What else could he have done? 

Crowley started most days by going to the bookshop that he refused to acknowledge had once belonged to the idiot who he refused to name. 

He’d meet Muriel and take them to Nina’s coffee shop. He would order his six shots of espresso and a plain chamomile tea for them— after the first month they occasionally took small sips instead of just holding it awkwardly. Then he’d just be there to try to answer Muriel’s rapid fire questions about life on earth. 

Most of them he answered honestly. There had been a few he had embellished just for fun. Nothing that would cause any harm of course. But, he was a demon after all. 

If anyone had ever told him he would eventually be making a list of book recommendations for an angel he would have guffawed. 

There he was though, sitting with Muriel on an almost daily basis. He had decided to take the naive angel under his wing so to speak. He’d never admit it and always played it off as if he was just bored. That he was doing it because he had nothing better to do. 

Heaven had a knack for leaving their angels in the lurch and expecting them to just figure it out. It made him angry to think that they would do that to Muriel in a world that was far more advanced than when they had done it to... the idiot he refused to name. 

Nina and Maggie had also been an unexpected pleasant addition to his new social circle. In the chaos of everything that had gone on and the abruptness of the idiot’s departure, the two hadn’t had their memories wiped. A clerical error he had no intention of bringing to anyone’s attention. They were invaluable when it came to keeping an eye on Muriel. 

And, as much as he hated to admit it to himself, they were invaluable to staving off his own loneliness and grief. He could lie to everyone, but he knew when he was alone he wasn’t doing well with the loss of…

That. IDIOT. Who. He. REFUSED. To. Name.  

He was lost. Despite how many times they had spent years apart, he knew that no matter what— he was at least still on Earth. He knew they would bump into each other eventually. 

Now? It had only been three months and it had felt like it had been so much longer. The first week he had drank himself into a stupor, but that had reminded Crowley too much of the recent severed bond. He didn’t think he’d ever get to drink with him again and that made the act of drinking depressing. 

Then one day Muriel called him in a panic over something so mundane that he couldn’t even remember what it was. The point was that it was a big deal to them because they were as new as a baby to Earth and they were scared. 

Crowley couldn’t abandon them. He knew how that felt as it had happened to him multiple times over. He may have gone soft over his multiple millennia on the planet.  

All of that to bring him to the day it all changed. Again. 

He was almost to the front door of the bookshop to pick up Muriel when he felt it. Felt him. 

A wash of emotions hit him at once and his hand froze on the handle of the shop. 

Where did he get off thinking—?!

Crowley took a deep breath and let the air out in a long irritable sigh. Without thinking too much about what was on the other side, he squared his shoulders ripped open the door.

Crowley threw himself into the shop with more oozing confidence and swagger than he was feeling, but it was a shield against what waited for him inside. 

Aziraphale stood in the middle of the shop like he had never left. No, that wasn’t right. He looked different. The pale, pale blue suit was new. The short, manicured beard was new. 

The sharp stab of anger and heartbreak he felt when he looked at him was new. 

“Muriel, are you ready?” He said crisply, not even acknowledging Aziraphale’s presence, which was hard seeing he had a heavenly glow about him that made Crowley want to sneeze. 

“Mr. Crowley! Yes! Let me get my bag. But, uh— well— look who is here to check in?” They waved their hand at Aziraphale as if Crowley hadn’t been acutely aware of the idiot standing there staring at him. 

“Oh, I saw. Don’t care. Let’s go.” He said bluntly and turned his back to Aziraphale. 

“Muriel, would you be a dear and give Crowley and I a moment?” Aziraphale’s voice was smooth and warm. It made Crowley bite the inside of his mouth. 

“Muriel, would you be a dear and tell this pompous looking moron—“ Crowley paused when he saw how nervous Muriel looked. They started to wring their hands while looking between him and Aziraphale. He couldn’t drag them into this. “Muriel… It’s alright. Go on over to Nina’s, I’ll meet you over there soon.”

They shared a long look before Muriel nodded and hurried out of the shop. They didn’t even grab their bag, which made Crowley feel worse. He knew it was because they were anxious. 

“Thank you, Crowley.” Aziraphael spoke quietly and it made Crowley want to start throwing books at him. 

“Do. Not. Thank me. I did it for them, not you. They are too empathetic for their own good and get stressed when I yell.” Crowley hissed before his face dropped into a bored looking mask. 

“Are you going to yell?” Aziraphale asked, more curious than cautious. 

“Only if you say something infuriating. With your current track record I’d say you’d best say nothing at all.” Crowley took a moment to look at Aziraphale before sneering at his appearance. “You look like you let Gabriel dress you.”

Aziraphale smoothed his hands down his suit jacket as he looked self-consciously around the room and cleared throat.  

“Honestly, I think it’s time to have a serious heart to heart.” He gestured to a bottle of wine on the desk. The desk that used to be his. The desk he had seen the angel sitting at countless times. Crowley had to turn his head away from looking at it when his chest ached at the site of the unoccupied piece of furniture. “I brought a bottle of wine. It’s a lovely Caber—“

“Heart to heart?” He mocked, cutting him off. Crowley rolled his eyes behind his glasses. “Careful Supreme Archangel , wouldn’t want your side to know you’re fraternizing with the bad guys.” 

“You’re not on their side, Crowley.  You’re on our—

“Don’t. We don’t have a side. You made sure of that. Where do you get off anyway? It’s been months without a peep, now you need to talk?” Crowley bared his teeth before turning around to meander further into the room. He couldn’t sit still, moving around was the only way he was going to get through their conversation without combusting. 

“I was preoccupied with very important matters in Heaven. I came as soon as I could.”

“Important matters in Heaven.” Crowley parroted in a nasally voice. “Oh, shut up.”

“You are lashing out because you’re angry.” Aziraphale’s brow furrowed at Crowley and it made him want to continue to poke the bear with a stick. 

“Awww, am I? Do you forgive me?”

“Now you’re being childish.”

“You started it.” Aziraphale looked thoroughly perturbed as Crowley shot him a smug smirk. 

“Crowley.” Aziraphale went to straighten his waistcoat, but looked down in surprise when he remembered he was in different attire. The soft, velvet waistcoat was gone. It was replaced with the suit Crowley was despising more by the second. “I uh… I think we should clear the air.”

“No, no I don’t think we do. You were clear enough before, Supreme Archangel.”

“Stop calling me that.” Aziraphale snipped and it filled Crowley with feral glee. 

“Why? Don’t like it? I mean… eh, didn’t you choose that role and leave this all behind? That’s right. You did. Seems like an odd thing to get bent out of shape about when you chose to take that title.” Aziraphale closed his eyes and took a deep breath. 

The satisfaction in intentionally aggravating the angel faded and it just left him feeling listless. Crowley had enough of the whole interaction, he really didn’t feel like testing the angel’s patience anymore. It wasn’t like the friendly banter they used to have and it was just making him feel worse. He needed to make his exit before he did something stupid. 

“Let’s share the bottle and just talk?” Aziraphale asked in a quiet, strained voice. Crowley scoffed loudly at that. 

Aziraphale opened his eyes in shock when Crowley snatched the bottle from the desk.  With a small spark from his fingertips and a flick to the neck of the bottle sent the cork flying. The cork ricocheted somewhere into the ether of the book shop. He turned the bottle of wine up and proceeded to chug the entire thing in front of the angel. 

It was a pity, he thought. From what he could taste he knew it would have been a nice bottle to share. Before everything went to shit, anyway. 

“W-Well.” He gulped and took a deep breath as he slammed the empty bottle down. “Look at that. Hrg… All gone. Good chat. See you never.” He gave a flippant wave as he sauntered past Aziraphale to walk out of the shop. 

“Crowley—!” Aziraphale snapped angrily as he grabbed Crowley’s arm to stop him. Crowley snarled back and grabbed him by the front of his jacket and whirled him around to slam him against one of the pillars in the room. The room actually shook from the impact. 

“Don’t touch—!!!” 

Aziraphale cut Crowley off by crushing his mouth to his. 

He knew bad decisions were about to be plentiful. He also knew that he should have shoved Aziraphale away from him and left. But—he didn’t. He did the opposite. 

Crowley normally would have been ashamed by how he instantly wrapped around Aziraphale. He had pride. 

Instead he pulled the angel as close as he possibly could, all logical thinking left the building the moment Aziraphale’s mouth was against his. 

“This fucking suit— I hate it— it looks stupid— you look like that wanker—“ He murmured against Aziraphale’s lips. The wine already buzzed pleasantly in his head as he tore and pulled on Aziraphale’s clothes.

Aziraphale pushed him back until he was pinned against the desk and Crowley groaned when they made abrupt contact. Aziraphale didn’t pause before he plastered himself against Crowley’s front like a second skin, making him have to lean against the desk for balance. 

He was never going to be able to look at that desk the same way again. 

Crowley had to bite down on his bottom lip to keep from moaning when he felt Aziraphale’s erection grinding against his hip. With deft fingers he quickly undid Aziraphale’s belt while the angel groaned against Crowley’s lips. 

“Good lord.. Cro— ah..” 

“Don’t bring her into this.” Crowley didn’t let him answer before he hungrily crashed his mouth against Aziraphale’s again, his glasses getting knocked off in the process.

He needed him. Needed this. Maybe if Aziraphale fucked him senseless the horrible ache in him would ease. 

It would get it out of his system. Finally scratch an itch that was six millennia in the making. 

As if Aziraphale read his mind he started trying to undo Crowley’s pants before running into the problem of how snug they were. 

“These insufferable, tight—“ The pants in question did not leave much room for any extra appendages, so a vulva was his normal effort of choice. It was for pure aesthetic and fashion reasons, but he was extremely thankful for it at that moment as he felt himself already getting wet. What was a choice in vanity gave him the quickest avenue to the end goal of finally knowing what it would be like to intimately know his angel— the angel. The Supreme Idiot Archangel, he reminded himself. 

Aziraphale dragged him out of his thoughts when he spun him around and bent him over the desk, pulling his ridiculously tight pants to mid-thigh with one solid yank. 

“Oh...” Aziraphale said and Crowley could hear the awe in his voice as he slowly ran a hand up his inner thigh. Crowley gasped when he felt a finger slip through his slick folds and into the throbbing heat of his core. 

Crowley could sense Aziraphale’s lust, it was palpable. He wanted to make a sarcastic dig at how he thought he was the one that went too fast, but the only thing that came out was a broken moan. 

“Oh darling…” Aziraphale whispered as he slipped a second finger into Crowley. If the angel kept acting like that then Crowley was going to emotionally fall apart before they even got to the act. 

He didn’t want kindness. He didn’t want pet names or gentle hands that prepared him for something soft. Something loving. Just the thought of it made his throat burn. 

He couldn’t handle that from Aziraphale. He had wanted that once. Not anymore. 

He needed it to be rough and quick. He wanted Aziraphale to remember despite what they had been through together, he was still a demon. He wasn’t meant to be anything else but a demon and he would never be an angel again. Demons didn’t make love. Or at least that’s what Crowley needed to believe right then. 

An angel wouldn't want to be railed against a desk to prove a point. 

“Don’t — Don’t you fucking dare call me that.” Crowley snapped. “I.. I want you to just fuck me. No talking. Just do it and get it over with.”

Hurt flashed across Aziraphale’s face before his expression turned stormy. 

“Alright then.” Aziraphale said in his annoyed, clipped tone. The same way he would have if the demon had insulted one of his favorite authors. Crowley gasped again when he felt Aziraphale’s fingers slip out of him as he shoved him back down on the desk. “If you want me to just fuck you then that’s what I’ll do.”

Hearing the angel say what he was going to do to him was one of the hottest things—

His thoughts came to a screeching halt when without any warning Aziraphale thrusted into him all the way to the hilt. He had already been wet and aching for it, but the jolting sensation of fullness tore another filthy moan out of him. His hands flew out, knocking multiple things off the desk as he tried to find something to hold onto. 

“ ..zir.. aa..—“ He desperately tried to bite back moaning Aziraphale’s name before he was abruptly cut off when Aziraphale pulled almost completely out and thrusted back into him again. 

“You said no talking.” Aziraphale said huskily before he grabbed Crowley’s hips and pumped into him with a hard, brutal pace. Crowley couldn’t stop the needy sounds that came out of him as he flattened his palms on the desk. 

Aziraphale being a bit of a bastard apparently did it for him. Who would have known?

Who was he kidding? He had known.

He had always known. 

So, it had been a dumb decision. Obviously. That had been one of the first thoughts Crowley had when he stared at himself in the mirror after his shower. 

It had only been a few hours since he left the bookshop. It hadn’t scratched an itch. It tore open an already bleeding wound. 

Another dumb decision to add to the pile. 

It wasn’t like it was going to change the Supreme Archangel’s decision to not live on Earth anymore. But, much to Crowley’s current despair, it got his point across. He was a demon. Demons did morally questionable, vile things. 

Like tempting the most holy of angels into quickies.  

There. Point made. Crowley thought bitterly. 

He had had a true walk of shame. He didn’t even check his reflection until he had showered. He didn’t want to risk having an emotional breakdown in public if he looked at himself in the rearview mirror of the Bentley. 

Crowley had walked straight to the bath when he got into his flat, still avoiding his reflection. He could have miracled himself clean, but instead he chose the shower. He didn’t want the evidence to disappear. There were bruises and marks on his skin he wished would stay there for an eternity as a reminder of what he had— even if it was just once and he would never have it again. 

It was stupid and selfish. He just wanted to experience that level of intimacy with Aziraphale since he had lost everything else. 

His constant, his partner, his friend— The only being he’d ever fallen in love with had thoroughly fucked him emotionally when he chose Heaven instead of him. Why not get fucked physically to match?

Real healthy line of thinking, he knew. He wanted to wallow for a while though. He felt he earned it. 

Crowley had always been able to just turn off and do what he needed to do during sex.  Especially when he used to have to be more hands on with his temptations. But, he knew sex with Aziraphale was going to haunt him. His heart was too invested. 

When had Aziraphale learned to do that? He had assumed, ‘Angel,’ meant… inexperienced? But, Aziraphale had his way with him like a creature that had plenty of experience. 

He had so many questions. It didn’t matter though. Even if it wasn’t the last time he saw Aziraphale, he had made sure before he left to reiterate that they were not what they once were. That, like Aziraphale had said before, nothing lasts forever. 

They were no longer an, ‘Us.’ 

Once again he was reminded why it was such a dumb decision and refused to cry. He would chew on the hurt until the flavor was gone then swallow it down to be forgotten. He would not cry. 

His phone buzzed on the bathroom counter and he immediately checked it. He knew it wouldn’t be from Aziraphale, but he had silently hoped. 

When he saw it was a text from Muriel he tried not to feel guilty for the disappointment that churned in his gut. 

•••📱•••

M: Mr. Crowley? The power went out and I saw you leave the bookshop. What happened?

C: Sorry. Your boss might still be at the bookshop. I left him there. Passing on coffee for a while. May take a nap. 

M: I saw him too. He was acting strange. Really though, what happened?

C: Too much to say. 

M: Are you alright, Mr. Crowley?

•••📱•••

He was a demon. He could lie. It didn’t feel right though. That made him huff a humorless laugh at the thought. 

It didn’t feel right. 

That shouldn’t matter, but he felt a little responsible for Muriel. So he didn’t lie… exactly . 

•••📱•••

C: I will be, just let me go radio silent for a while. 

M: Ok. I’m here when you want to turn the radio back on.

•••📱•••

That pulled a genuine chuckle out of him. 

Maybe he’d just sleep for a few months. Maybe he’d wake up and it would hurt less. Maybe he’d wake up and realize that it had all been a really terrible dream. 

Maybe.

Chapter Text

Four Weeks Prior…

They had knocked the power out. 

Of course they had. 

Thousands of years of sexual tension, at least on his side, being crammed into a quick romp against some furniture? The energy had to go somewhere. 

It left Crowley shaking from the aftermath, his whole body throbbing as Aziraphale stepped back to catch his breath.

He couldn’t turn to look at him as he hastily pulled up his pants. The blasted pants were much easier to pull back up than they were to pull down. Should that have been a sign? It seemed ridiculous, but it was easier to ponder over the symbolism of his pants than to acknowledge the silence in the room that was only disturbed by their heavy breathing. 

It was a mistake, Crowley thought. He could already tell he was going to regret it. 

“I…” Aziraphale started then took a moment before he continued. “That was not my intent when coming here. I’m—I’m so—“

“Don’t. Just don’t.” Images of their silly little dance for apologies came to mind and it just hurt too much. He couldn’t handle Aziraphale’s regret so soon, not when he felt like he was still emotionally flayed open. 

“Crowley… we need to talk.” Aziraphale said it so calmly like the past ten minutes hadn’t just happened. The angel got something in his head and apparently not even sex could knock his train of thought off course. 

They did not need to talk. Talking had gotten them nowhere before. 

“No.” He said and still refused to turn around. 

“We have to… especially now. It’s obvious that we have some unresolved… issues .”

“ Issues.. ah , right. Well, I’ve got to go.” He made sure to give Aziraphale a wide berth that time when he made his way to the exit. 

“Wait—Crowley— please —“ Aziraphale sounded so desperate that it made the old wound ache again. 

Enough was enough. 

“I don’t forgive you. I never will.” He hissed before exiting the bookshop and slamming the door behind him. 

Week Four

When Crowley finally woke up he felt as if he had slept for a decade. He clawed his way out of the black satin sheets like a zombie clawing its way from a fresh grave. 

He needed to check his phone, it had to have been at least a year. 

Crowley felt off . Like he was walking down the stairs and missed a step. His skin felt like it was too tight and uncomfortable. 

He’d never felt like that after walking up before. Maybe he needed some… water? It was odd, his corporation didn’t really need sustenance. It had always just been out of curiosity, boredom or just the sheer pleasure of experiencing food and drink. 

At that moment though Crowley felt like he was dying of thirst. 

Before heading to the kitchen picked up his phone on the dresser and was pleasantly surprised to see he had at least made sure to plug it into the charger before he had gone to sleep. If he hadn’t it was nothing a quick miracle couldn’t rectify but he tried to not be too trigger happy with them since he was no longer affiliated with above or below. 

Crowley read the date on the lock screen and had to do a double take. 

He had only been asleep for barely a month? 

There was no way. 

He poured himself a glass of water and paused when he could have sworn he felt Aziraphale. He sensed him so strongly he had almost expected to turn around and see him standing in his kitchen. 

When he turned he was still alone in his flat. It made his stomach clench. He hated that he felt disappointed. 

He gulped down his glass of water greedily as he filled up the mister for his plants. They had to have been drooping by then. But, another surprise, they weren’t. 

They were flowering of all things. He walked into the room and it felt like he had stepped into a jungle. The plants actually leaned toward him when he stopped in the middle of the room. 

“Stop that! Just— grow normal! … and you !” He pointed to a small, lush shrub in the corner. “You’re not even supposed to have blooms that color!”

He decided he needed a very long, very hot shower. He would just throw himself back into the normalcy he had created for himself before the… incident . 

He needed a distraction. Especially when he stepped out of the bathroom he could swear he could sense the angel again as if he would turn a corner he’d just be there. 

He was just psyching himself out. That was all.  

Though when he had snapped to dress himself, that was when warning bells started to go off. 

Nothing happened. 

No, that wasn’t correct. He didn’t appear smartly dressed like he had imagined when he attempted the miracle. What had happened was an explosion of confetti raining down onto his head instead. 

“ What… the fuck?” Crowley quickly shook off the debris before looking at the rainbow smattering of paper colored confetti all around him. 

Ok . Maybe he was feeling more off than he had first thought. 

Crowley decided to just raid his closet and dress manually. It wasn’t like he didn’t keep a decent wardrobe on hand. It was fine. Everything was fine . He just needed to shake it off. 

He would just avoid the miracles for a few hours until he got his bearings again. It had been quite a while since he had slept longer than a few hours. Maybe with the stress of everything that had happened it had him—? What, groggy? Out of sorts? He didn’t know. 

The next warning bell that went off was when he poured himself two fingers of whiskey and threw it back. Only to then run to the sink and wretch until he had sicked it all back up immediately. 

He groaned miserably as he leaned his forehead against the running faucet. 

Out of sorts… right . He thought bitterly. 

He needed fresh air. A drive in the Bentley would do him some good. Or at least he thought it would. Apparently not. 

The Bentley was being extremely temperamental. No matter how hard he pushed down on the accelerator the car would only rumble and refuse to go any faster than a solid ten below the speed limit.

Getting to the bookshop took what felt like an eternity and when he finally arrived he was more temperamental than the car. 

Muriel stepped out of the shop and found him having what any normal pedestrian would deem to be a one sided argument with the vehicle. 

“Mr. Crowley! Hello!” They said cheerily while glancing around. “I had thought that… oh, no matter. He isn’t here. You are though! I am presuming you have turned the radio back on?”

Crowley couldn’t help but smile despite his mood. 

“Yes, yes. The radio is back on.”

“Are you… ok?” They had a soft look of concern as they examined his face. He must look as rumpled as he felt.  

“I’m fine, just a little groggy. Would you like to join me for a coffee?”

“Oh yes please! I have started adding cream to my tea, I would like to show you. I have a specific order now. Nina said that I have evolved.” They practically chirped from how proud they were. Crowley extended their elbow to them and they looped their arm through it quickly. 

“Lets go see this order then.” Muriel looked at where their arms were looped together then up at Crowley curiously. “What..?”

“Nothing, you just… you feel different.” Crowley raised an eyebrow at them, but guided them across the street and pulled the door open to the coffeeshop before he spoke. 

“Different? Different how?”

“I don’t know. Just… different .”

“Muriel! Oh, and Crowley?! I was starting to think you were dead.” Nina laughed and though he was wearing his glasses it was obvious he rolled his eyes. “You want your usual, Muriel?”

Muriel practically glowed from how much they were beaming with pride, previous conversation completely forgotten. 

“Yes! I will have my usual .” Crowley pressed his lips together to keep himself from laughing. New, shiny Earth angel learning to do the mundane was one of the most entertaining things he had ever encountered. 

Then a smell wafted past him and before he could think he was practically plastered to the glass on the pastry case. 

“Crowley, love, did you want something to go with your coffee?” Nina asked and had a similar expression to the one he had while watching Muriel crow about having a usual order. 

“What is that smell?”

“Oh, you like it? Its batch of chocolate croissants I just popped into the case. Do you want one—“

“Yes. Actually. Two. I want two. And— nngk— one of those strawberry tarts.” 

“Oook, definitely not your usual. You feeling ok? You look a little under the weather.”

“I’m fine .” He shoved his hands into his pockets awkwardly and quickly made his way to the table where Muriel was sitting so he didn’t have to endure Nina’s worried look more than he had to. 

So, yeah, he normally wasn’t— well, never really— a sweets person. Sweets had always been… his thing. The idiot would savor a small dessert for half an hour if left to his own devices, then order more. It would be quite endearing if Crowley wasn’t determined to be done with thoughts of him and cursing his name. 

He was feeling off. He craved sweets when he felt off. It was fine. It was just a new development. 

Muriel was looking out the window for something when he sat down and he actually startled them when he dropped into the chair without any of his usual grace. 

“Something catch your attention, Inspector Constable?”

“Oh, uh, it’s the oddest thing really. I keep swearing I can feel.. well I won’t say his name since it makes you so ornery when I do so.”

“I don’t get ornery. Ornery . Really? That’s the word you chose? I just don’t particularly want to acknowledge the existence of the Supreme Arch Asshole, his ultimate holiness.”

“You’re in a mood .” Maggie said as she joined the two at the table. 

“I’m not in a… yes, alright, I am in a mood.”

“You look a little paler than usual, Mr. Crowley. Are you sick?”

“Demons don’t get sick!” Crowley snapped. Muriel and Maggie stared at him in silence as he felt something burn in his throat. 

Oh no, no no no.. he was NOT about to—

He sniffed and proceeded to try and cover the fact he was fighting not to cry with a series of growls and frustrated wheezes. 

He refused to cry. Absolutely refused. 

“I’m not feeling like myself is all.”

“Oh Mr. Crowley…” Maggie tutted and rubbed his back. He wanted to growl and tell her to stop, but he melted into the touch and hunched a little. 

“Alright! Half my pastry case with six shots of espresso— an Earl Gray with extra extra extra cream, and a skinny latte.” She said as she set the orders down, placing a loud snacking kiss to Maggie’s forehead with a flourish. She waved to one of the other baristas that she was taking a break before she sat down across from Maggie at the table. “So… Why are we going, Oh Mr. Crowley?”

Crowley was thankful for his glasses covering the fact his eyes were still a bit damp so chose not to answer Nina, instead he snatched one of the croissants off the plate. He shoved half of it in his mouth in one bite as an excuse to stay silent. 

The croissant was pure bliss.  

He closed his eyes and sighed as he leaned back in his chair. He shoved the other half in his mouth as soon as he swallowed the first. He knew he must have chocolate on his face but he didn’t care. He felt ravenous as he sat back up and grabbed the second one and tore into it. Before he had even finished swallowing the second croissant he was already shoving the strawberry tart in his mouth whole and reaching for his coffee. 

The bitter smell of the espresso made him wrinkle his nose and he poured a generous amount of cream and sugar into it and gulped it down before he had even finished stirring it. He let out another long sigh and looked around the table. 

The other three occupants at the table stared at him like he had grown a second head. 

“Er… I… Hng… I have been feeling… off .”

“Crowley, really, what’s going on?” Nina asked quietly. 

“I—… I don’t know. I have been in a bit of a mood, strange stuff been happening today so I just thought it was that. I haven’t been feeling all that well. I was not feeling well this morning and just thought… I don’t know. I don’t even like sweets all that much. I don’t know. ” His voice came out strained. He was going to go apocalyptic if he started having to fight back tears again. 

“You sound like a pregnant woman.” Maggie giggled as she started rubbing his back again. 

They all laughed at that a little. Then Crowley’s laugh started to sputter out as he stared out the window. 

No. Noooo… No? That was the most ridiculous possibility. But… Could he be…? That wasn’t possible, was it? 

He had been with… the timeline fit… nooo . He wasn’t even going to humor the idea of it. 

He was a demon and the angel was, well, an angel . The equipment may have been correct but… nooooo . It wasn’t possible. There had been instances of an angel impregnating humans, but there hadn’t even been a nephilim in millennia. Those had been humans though. He hadn’t even heard of an angel and a demon having offspring. It didn’t happen. It couldn’t happen. Demons couldn’t reproduce. It wasn’t possible. 

Was it..?

“Mr. Crowley…?” Muriel asked gently. They could sense his distress he knew as their expression turned serious. Did they know what Crowley was currently thinking?

He shook his head as his stomach lurched and he stood abruptly. 

“I’m going to be sick again.” He moaned before running to the bathroom. 

“Wait, what do you mean again?! What?!” Nina said as she chased after him. 

After an extremely long time trying to explain to Muriel what a pregnancy test was so they could miracle one up. That was followed by trying to explain that he couldn’t miracle one up himself at that moment. Nina had had enough and threw her hands up into the air in exasperation before telling them to meet her in the flat above the bookshop. Nina would just run to the shop down the way and get one herself. She pointed at Crowley before she had left and demanded that he wait until she met them before he explained anything . 

He had kept his word. Almost too well to be honest. He had the humiliating experience of trying to pee, something he hadn’t done in centuries, and trying to aim for a tiny stick. This while three people were standing on the other side of the door.  

Afterward they all sat in the cozy little sitting room waiting for a timer to go off. Just waiting for a human pregnancy test to see if something that should not be possible was actually possible . 

“So, Mr. Crowley…” Maggie spoke gently as if not to spook him. “What other symptoms are you having?” 

“Other symptoms?”

“You know, pregnancy symptoms?” Crowley stared at the ceiling for a moment with the expression as if he had swallowed a lemon. 

“Well, other than the stomach thing and the— nnn.. emotions— I haven’t been able to do any type of miracles. Something as simple as clothes should not be a problem, but this morning it was, well, wrong . I don’t know if that falls into the pregnancy symptoms category though.”

“Ok… this may be blunt, I’m sorry, but… I thought you were a man?” Nina said and Crowley took his glasses off so he could rub his face. 

“I’m not either, really. It depends on what mood strikes me I suppose. Being called He is just easier for appearances, and I like it, but the downstairs can change on a whim.”

“And.. your current whim?” Nina asked. Crowley made some noncommittal noises and waved his hand a little. 

“I’ve been feeling more of the… feminine persuasion .. since the late sixties. Looked better in tight pants… I am going to burn every pair of blessed tight pants I own .” Crowley growled and Nina waved her hands around as if to change the subject. 

“You know what? I think the fact we needed a pregnancy test should have answered that question. What I want to know is who the other side of this equation?”

“You know— how about we just forget this whole thing? Preposterous idea, let’s just have a good laugh and—“

The shrill beeping of the alarm made them all jump. Crowley watched as the other three shared looks. 

“Mr. Crow—“ Muriel started to ask but Crowley sighed loudly and cut them off. 

“Muriel, I just peed on a stick within a few feet of you. You have been promoted to just calling me Crowley.”

“Ok, Crowley then. Um..” They looked at Maggie and Nina before continuing. “Is this possibly why I keep sensing Mr. A—“

“NO. DON’T. Don’t. Not—Not yet.” Crowley stumbled a little when he stood up quickly.

Nina and Maggie whipped their heads to look at Muriel in shock. It didn’t take much detective work to figure out who Muriel was referring to. 

Crowley felt numb as he made his way to the bathroom where the test sat on the counter. 

Was he really about to read it? Why was he so anxious? It was going to be negative. He was a demon. It was impossible. He was being stupid for being so worked up about it. 

He snatched the test and stepped out of the bathroom. He held it up with a confidence he truly didn’t feel, preparing to read out the results when all capability for speech left him. 

It was positive . 

It was positively positive. 

No faint blue lines there that he had to squint at. Nooo , the bold blue cross of a positive test mocked him. 

“Well?!” Maggie clenched her hands to her chest. They all stared at him expectantly. 

“Shit.” He wheezed. “ SHIT . How in the fuck did this happen?!”

“Well, the fuck is how it normally happens… OH!” Nina turned to Muriel. “As you were saying?”

“Oh! Yes. Is this why I keep sensing Mr. Aziraphale?”

Maggie gasped but it was muffled by Nina covering her mouth. 

“Ok. Details. Then we should start figuring out demonic prenatal.” 

Crowley winced but just continued to stare at the test in his hands. 

Shit.

Chapter Text

-Month Two-

Week Five

He hated how quiet it was in Heaven. Other than the occasional echo of a lower ranked angel going about their business, it was so quiet he felt like he was going to suffocate. 

He missed the occasional sounds of life outside his shop. The way the old building would creak as it settled over the years. 

Heaven felt so sterile and bland. He felt overly starched in his suit. He hated that his desk wasn’t wood. 

He missed his desk…

The memory of Crowley sprawled across said desk, moaning for Aziraphale had his whole body flushing with warmth.

“Good Lord…” He let out in a hushed whisper as he ran his hands down his lapels.  

He needed to stop doing that to himself. 

The sound of someone clearing their throat almost made him jump out of his skin. He turned quickly to see Michael standing in front of him. 

“Supreme Archangel,” They said blandly but continued. “The Metatron is requesting your presence, and only your presence.”

Michael came across fairly annoyed at the fact that they were being used as a messenger, and as much as that would normally amuse him, Aziraphale was more nervous about the request for a solo meeting with the voice of God. 

“Only me? Why didn’t the Metatron just..” Michael’s eyebrows raised and Aziraphale caught himself. He had made a conscious effort to not question anything asked of him in Heaven or risk his position, power and influence. 

He smoothed his suit jacket’s front and nodded to Michael. 

“I will meet with them immediately.”

Week Six

He was in absolute misery. 

If he wasn’t craving the most sickly sweet, extravagant desserts in all of London— his current craving being a particular raspberry cream tart at a little place off Romilly street that he couldn’t get enough of— he was curled over the toilet regretting even thinking about consuming anything ever again. The whole process had him damning anyone in the vicinity, though Muriel had become immune to his foul disposition after a day or two and had made Crowley’s care their new mission. 

He would snarl and snap at them, then feel guilty and apologize for being such a terror. 

He felt like a complete ass for taking it out on the angel. It was embarrassing. 

Muriel would just speak to him in soothing tones and hand him some tea.

He hated tea. He drank it though. At first just to placate Muriel, but it actually helped soothe his raw throat and rolling stomach. 

“It’s ginger tea. Nina said it would help— and all the prenatal books I’ve been reading say that this should not be a problem forever. Just for the first few months. Right now the baby should be the size of a bean!” Muriel practically chirped. Their enthusiasm just made Crowley more nauseated. To be fair, it wasn’t their fault. He was just constantly nauseated. 

“The first few months?! How can something the size of a bean be so much trouble?” He moaned as he tried to sip his tea slowly. “Beans are the worst.”

“Oh, don’t say that. Beans are great! Don’t be mad at Bean for making you so sick, I’m sure they would feel bad if they were aware.”

“I’m sure it would feel positively dreadful for making me constantly want to make my insides become my outsides.”

“I can read your sarcasm now, Crowley.” Muriel rolled their eyes before, much to his dismay, they crouched down and spoke to Crowley’s stomach. “Don’t you worry, Bean. I know you don’t mean to make your papa sick.”

Papa… oof. That tugged on some buried emotions he didn’t want to sift through right then. 

“So… you are calling it that now, are you?” Crowley asked casually. 

“Well, I’m tired of referring to them as it. They are a being that is going to be loved. So they need a name. Bean is a good name for now.” 

Fuck. More emotions to deal with. He had just been operating as if he was dealing with an inconvenient affliction, something that would pass eventually. A lot of denial and running away was not going to solve his current predicament though.

Acknowledging that it wasn’t just an it made it too real and he didn’t want to think about that right then. The fact that an actual baby was in the process of cooking in his womb, a being that he had no idea what it was going to be, was terrifying. 

She worked in mysterious ways? Well, he would love to know what she was up to with that curveball. 

It still hadn’t sunk in, and he was ok with keeping it that way for a while longer for his own sanity. 

“Have you… um, have you thought about telling him?”

“Absolutely not.” Crowley said almost before Muriel finished the question.

“But, why?” Muriel asked. Of course they would ask why.

“He is not.. he’s.. well, he isn’t—“ Crowley groaned as he sipped more of his tea. “This news would make an uncomfortable situation worse.”

He didn’t want to stay when it was just him. Finding out they accidentally produced offspring would probably make Aziraphale quit Earth entirely. 

“I think you’re not giving him enough credit.”

“No, Muriel, I think the problem was I gave him too much in the past. I know better now.”

Week Seven

It was subtle at first. A small whiff here and there. Then one day he stepped out of the Bentley and the street outside the bookshop stank of it. 

Sulfur. 

Of course the smell was one of the major things to turn his stomach, and if it wasn’t for Muriel he would have thought that it was somehow him. Though he had never smelled of sulfur despite being a demon. Muriel assured him that he smelled nice— he smelled almost sweet. It made him almost prefer to reek of sulfur. 

The point was there was more demonic activity in the area than ever and it made him feel like he was being watched. 

It made him uneasy. Why was he being watched? And if they knew about him, how did they find out?

Then one day, when he woke up from one of his many naps on the bookshop sofa, he was shocked to see Aziraphale standing in the center of the bookshop. 

He had just gotten used to the fact that he felt like Aziraphale was nearby because of his current physical state, so he hadn’t even sensed that Aziraphale could be in the same room. 

Aziraphale opened his mouth to say something, but immediately shut it. 

Crowley stared at him in shock. He couldn’t speak over the feeling like his heart was in his throat. 

It was the first time he’d seen the angel since that last day. The day. When the giant cockup happened. 

Aziraphale cleared his throat and fiddled with the string on the box he was holding. He was still in that horrid suit that made Crowley want to literally burn things. 

“Hello.. Crowley.” He said gently and it made Crowley’s chest hurt to hear it. He was pretty sure he was going to be sick.  Aziraphale’s gaze slid over Crowley’s form and brow creased in concern. “Are you feeling alright? You look.. um..”

“Um..? What are you on about?”

“Well, Crowley, you have almost been the vainest creature I’ve ever known, but right now you look..”

“Go on, finish that sentence.” Aziraphale couldn’t see him narrow his eyes behind the sunglasses.

“Like you've been dragged through Hell and back,” Aziraphale replied hesitantly. 

“Why does it matter to you?” Crowley hissed.

Aziraphale winced, realizing that perhaps his attempt at concern had not been well received when he saw Crowley react to his assessment. Aziraphale could have kicked himself for how horribly he was doing at extending the olive branch. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“M-Me..? Why—? I am the Supreme Archangel checking in with the representative of Earth on official Heaven business.”

“Oh bloody Hell, you sound pretty puffed up about yourself, don’t you? Supreme Archangel on official Heaven business. Heaven never cared about their representative before—“

“That’s why I am different.” Aziraphale bristled but took a moment to calm before he continued. “I am here to speak to Muriel.”

“They aren’t here.”

“I can see that.” Aziraphale clenched his jaw.  Did Crowley enjoy antagonizing him so much? “Why are you here? Doesn’t Hell frown on you fraternizing with angels?”

“I am an independent contractor.  I am just here helping an angel navigate being dropped on earth with no direction. I no longer work for Hell, remember? I was actually smart enough to turn down the promotion.” Aziraphale pursed his lips before his face turned smug. 

“Independent contractor, hm? So if you work for Muriel does that mean you technically work for me? Would that make me your boss?”

It was Crowley’s turn to bristle as he got in Aziraphale’s face. 

“WITH, you presumptuous dick. I work with Muriel, I don’t work with or for you.” Then a smell caught his attention and Crowley’s eyes dropped to the box in Aziraphale’s hand he hadn’t really noticed before. He knew that packaging. “What is in the box?”

“Not that it’s any interest to you, as I remember your aversion to anything too sweet… I just picked up some pastries from—“

“Maison Bertaux.”

“Oh, you know it?”

“Off Romilly street?”

“Yes!”

“Raspberry cream tarts?”

“They are my favorite actually.”

“Of course they are.” Crowley growled as he caught himself before he ran a self conscious hand over his abdomen. “Why are you popping down for sweets? I thought they frowned upon hedonism in Heaven, I know that Gabriel gave you shit about it all the time.”

“I do not plan on having a management style like Gabriel. He was too rigid and refused to think outside of the box.”

“You sure? You look like a carbon copy of the bastard.” His eyes dropped to Aziraphale’s suit, his voice dripping with disgust. 

“Yes, as you have mentioned… before.” The lust was subtle, but it was enough to make Crowley’s stomach swoop pleasantly at the memory.

Oh… Nope. That was how he got into his current mess.  

“Crowley! I’m back with sweets for you and Bean— Oh! AziraaaAAArchangel. SUPREME ARCHANGEL. OH. I DID NOT KNOW YOU WERE HERE.” Muriel stood as stiff as a statue in the foyer while clutching a box that was exactly like the one Aziraphale was holding. Their eyes darted between Crowley and Aziraphale, silently pleading for the demon’s help. 

Crowley was thankful for the distraction but Muriel was so obvious it hurt. 

“You didn’t know…? Wait, who’s Bean?” 

Without thinking Crowley snatched a small cactus he had gifted Muriel as their first plant and set it on the table next to him. 

“Bean.” He said blandly. Aziraphale stared at the cactus then looked at Muriel for confirmation. 

“B..Bean.” There you go, Muriel. He thought. Aziraphale looked like he wanted to ask more questions, especially when he noticed the pastry box, but Crowley cleared his throat and his attention turned away from Muriel again. 

“Err—You said important things, Heaven business, you wanted to speak to Muriel about them. I’ll just—“ Crowley grabbed the cactus and plucked the pastry box from Muriel’s stunned hands and made a quick exit. 

He had to take the decoy Bean for the continuity of the lie. Even if he did feel ridiculous running out of the bookshop and into Nina’s coffee shop holding a cactus and half of a tart hanging out of his mouth. 

She just bit her lip to keep herself from laughing and nodded for him to go hang out in the break room. 

When Aziraphale had shown up that day he hadn’t sensed Crowley until he was in the same room as him. That surprised him because he could usually sense Crowley from a block away. He must have been distracted. 

He hadn’t expected to find a disheveled, sleeping demon on the sofa in his— well, used to be his bookshop. 

But why wouldn’t he? Crowley had always lounged and napped like a cat in the sun on that sofa. Aziraphale actually associated the piece of furniture with Crowley for how often he could be found lounging across the whole thing as if he owned it. He had enjoyed how comfortable Crowley had been in his presence to be able to snooze the day away. 

Aziraphale had just assumed that if he wasn’t there anymore then Crowley wouldn’t be either. 

He knew he was being selfish and conceited, but it hurt all the same. 

Crowley was existing as if he had never left. That should have made him happy, but it didn’t. It just made him more miserable. 

He had been so beautiful, peaceful even, sleeping in a sunbeam. He had wanted to stroke his cheek, kiss his forehead, and whisper how much he missed him. He felt he had lost that opportunity though. His decisions may have been to protect the world and more importantly to protect Crowley, but he had sacrificed a chance of them staying together in the process. 

“Supreme Archangel, sir?”

“Oh— forgive me, my dear. My thoughts got away from me. I just need to ask a few questions.”

“Questions?” Muriel smiled nervously. 

“Oh, don’t worry. I just wanted to check in with you.”

“Check in away! Things have been just… happening like they do!” Muriel made an awkward flapping gesture with their hands before clasping them behind their back. 

“Ok… well, I need to ask something of you. This is a bit hush hush. Can I count on you for a secret mission?”

“A secret mission from Heaven?” Muriel’s eyes widened as they asked. Aziraphale leaned in and lowered his voice. 

“See it as more of a super secret mission from me. I need this to be just between us. No other angels can be involved.” Muriel blinked but then smiled. 

“Alright, Supreme Archangel. I can do that.”

“Marvelous. I need you to keep your ear to the ground, Muriel. If you see or hear anything about Beezlebub or Gabriel’s whereabouts I need you to contact me, and only me, immediately.”

“Ok. Ok, that is very doable.” They saluted cheerfully, but then looked around as if they were unsure how to word something they wanted to ask. “Can.. I ask why? Didn’t they leave to be happy together?”

“They may be in danger, my dear.”

“Danger? Why?”

“Well… It appears that Beelzebub and Gabriel have created life.”

“Crowley. We are in deep excrement.”

“You can say shit, Muriel. You won’t be struck by lightning.” Crowley would have laughed if Muriel didn’t look so stressed. 

“Oh, that doesn’t matter right now! Crowley! Heaven and Hell know!” Crowley’s insides went cold. 

“They know about me?” 

“Well, not exactly. Supreme Archangel Aziraphale tasked me with letting him know if Beelzebub and Gabriel turn up.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“Heaven and Hell both somehow know that a demon and an angel have conceived a child. The Metatron passed the information to Supreme Arch—“

“Fuck, just call the idiot Aziraphale. All that extra crap is making this explanation take forever.” Muriel rolled their eyes before dropping onto the couch beside him. 

“As I was saying— Aziraphale was told he had to find Beelzebub and Gabriel and bring them to Heaven. But, the same is happening in Hell. They all think it’s one them. Aziraphale told me not to tell another angel.”

“But, you’re telling me.”

“Because you’re not an angel anymore.”

“Look at you being smart.” Crowley supportively nudged Muriel’s shoulder with his fist. “So. We ARE in deep excrement.” 

Crowley stood up and then immediately sat back down when his world tilted. 

“Oh, Crowley— are you ok?”

“Yeah.. yeah, it’s just being a pain.” He mumbled irritably. Muriel huffed at him and he rolled his eyes at them. 

“Bean doesn’t mean to. They are just growing. They can’t help it.”

“Can you do a miracle? My miracles have turned into unreliable parlor tricks so it has to be you, Muriel.”

“Me? Well, didn’t it not work last time?”

“It worked too well. We won’t be doing it together like… er, like before. We need to think smaller. We just need to hide this thing—“

“Bean.”

“—so above and below don’t get wise.”

“How are we going to do that? I don’t have the power to do anything as big as hiding you, but… I mean, I don’t want to be rude—“

“Rude about what?”

“Well, you have been exuding… love. The book shop is radiating it. And… well there is your smell.”

“I stink?!”

“No! It’s not bad! I told you before you smell sweet! More like.. you smell of cinnamon, cookies, nutmeg—“

“I stink of bloody Christmas?!”

“I’ve never been around an Ethereal with child before, there is no literature on this! All I have to gage this is human books on pregnancy. Humans don’t do that.”

“I am an Occult being, not Ethereal. If anything I should smell like rot and despair. Not like holiday pastries!” Crowley groaned and let his head fall back onto the couch. 

“But.. you feel Ethereal too, Crowley. You feel like you, but the baby is definitely at least half angel.”

“Don’t remind me.” Muriel sighed and leaned their head back against the couch too. 

“If Aziraphale knew then this would be easier. He could do a much stronger miracle.”

“Are you forgetting that idiot is the Supreme Archangel?”

“But, he’s the father. I know he would choose to protect Bean.”

“No. He chose Heaven.”

“He must have had his reasons, and Bean wasn’t here yet.  Everything I’ve learned about love—“

“No. End of discussion. Let’s move onto how we can keep this under wraps.” Muriel huffed at him and Crowley chose to ignore it.  

“Well, other than how you feel you aren’t showing. If you’re always around another Ethereal being no one would be the wiser. It could give us time to figure out how to hide it.”

“What do I do when I’m not at the bookshop?”

“Well… I was going to suggest maybe moving to the bookshop. Into the flat upstairs.”

“What? No.”

“Crowley, come on. It’s honestly for the best. The place is filled with Ethereal energy and, other than you, demons can’t cross the threshold. You’d be safe from Hell there.”

“Yeah, but not from Heaven.”

“You’re there most of the time anyway. Once we figure out how to hide you properly it would just be extra protection. I also don’t sleep and you seem to need loads of it right now. I can watch over you.”

“I don’t need—“

“Crowley! Yes you do! Right now this has got you unable to use any of your powers. I know you’re grumpy about it and want to argue, but you and Bean need help. I’m going to protect you even if you are insufferable about it.”

Crowley blinked at them in surprise. Muriel had really started to grow a backbone in the time they had spent on Earth. He was going to blame Nina for it.

“I’ll… I’ll think about it.” Crowley finally said.

“Good.” If the determined set of Muriel’s jaw was any indication, he was sure he was going to cave. 

Chapter Text

-Month Three-

Week Nine

He caved. He liked to think he put in the good fight, but it ultimately came down to how miserable he felt that the drive from his flat to the bookshop was wearing on him. He couldn’t miracle himself put together everyday either. Muriel was more of a tempting being than he was and he was the demon. They knew what they were doing when they brought up in casual conversation that they would love to help Crowley look his best everyday since he couldn’t do it for himself.

That was playing dirty. He was too vain for his own good. 

Ultimately it was the bookshop that finally had Crowley relenting and allowing Muriel to help him.

He felt miserable most of the time but being there lessened it if only a fraction. He wasn’t so lonely there either. Muriel was always buzzing about the shop, absorbing any literature Crowley pointed to and he could see a path for himself to eventually heal. Muriel's supportive presence and the blooming feeling of camaraderie at the bookshop made Crowley hope for better days ahead. 

Whatever was growing inside him, he found comfort in the fact that he wasn't alone. That filled him with a glimmer of hope for the future.

Then he would come across a copy of Pride and Prejudice, or a spare pair of reading glasses carelessly left behind. He would have to clench his jaw so tight as the memories came flooding back, the well of emotions threatened to overwhelm him. 

Muriel’s research into prenatal medicine told him his hormones were more than likely going to make him feel emotionally compromised. 

That was an understatement. 

He refused to cry because his corporation couldn’t figure out its chemical levels. Maybe he couldn't control his hormones, but he could control his tears.

Week Ten

“This isn’t from the shop I like.” Crowley held up the pastry that Muriel had brought him. 

“How can you tell?!” Muriel laughed. 

“It’s miracled up. I can taste it. It tastes…sterile.” Crowley's sensitive taste buds had become a source of amusement for Muriel, who often playfully teased him about his newfound food preferences. "I find it's lacking the distinct touch of warmth and care that only my favorite shop provides.” 

“Crowley. They didn’t have any of your usual today. They sold out.” Muriel reached out to squeeze his hand gently as if they were breaking terrible news. "I'm sorry”

“Those bastards...” He moaned as he stared at the pastry in front of him pitifully. Muriel made a coo’ing noise and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. He growled but didn’t shove them off. “Don’t coddle me.”

“You just get so cute when you’re grumpy. Your lip sticks out and everything. It is very endearing.” 

“I’m a demon. I cause mayhem and… bad tidings…” he protested, but his grumbling was half-hearted as he took a reluctant bite of the bland pastry before dropping it onto the table in distaste.

“Sure. But, we both know that you are a bit of a softie.” Crowley hissed at them and slinked his way to the front door of the bookshop. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to demand chocolate croissants from Nina.”

“Ooh! I want to come along.” They rushed over just as Crowley swung open the door and they came face to face with Hastur. 

The smell of sulfur had Crowley’s stomach revolting. Muriel squeaked as he pulled them back before they could walk out the door and passed the safety of the threshold. 

“Oh, Hastur, and I thought that smell was a broken sewage line somewhere.” He flashed a wicked grin, his yellow eyes glinting with malice. He couldn’t let his uneasiness show around the other demon. 

“Crowley.” He spat before he eyed Muriel suspiciously. “Looking for the traitor.”

“Awww, and I thought I was the traitor. Way to make me not feel special anymore.” Crowley’s sarcastic response rolled off Hastur as he narrowed his eyes.

“Shut up. We know they are in there. We can smell it.” Muriel tensed as Crowley stepped forward, putting himself between Hastur and them.

Fuck, he thought, this was not going to end well. Crowley had to tighten his grip on Muriel’s shoulder to keep them from moving to stand between him and Hastur. The smell of sulfur and rot was burning his throat, but he didn’t want to risk leaving Muriel at the door by themself. 

“Sorry to disappoint you, Hastur, but we are the only occupants in this building. So go look somewhere else.” Crowley shot back with a cool edge to his voice. Hastur's lip curled with disdain as he peered at Crowley and Muriel. His eyes dropped to Crowley’s hand on Muriel’s shoulder before his expression turned smug. 

“I see. My mistake.” 

“As per usual.” Crowley snapped and slammed the door in the other demon’s face. 

“Crowley, they think we are hiding them—“ Muriel whispered, worry tingeing their voice as they peered at Crowley.

Behind the cover of the closed door Crowley felt his cool facade crumble instantaneously. He could feel the fear and bile claw its way up his throat. 

He was going to be sick. Shocker. 

“Uuhhrrk—“ Crowley interrupted Muriel when he covered his mouth and ran from the room. 

“Crowley—?!” Muriel chased after him and into the bathroom to find him violently retching in the toilet. “Oh no, Crowley…”

“Eeergh~… sulf—ur..” He gagged and groaned pitifully Muriel knelt down beside him, rubbing soothing circles on his back. “I can’t… oh fuck.. I’ve never been bothered by it before.. you know.. that’s the worst—”

“It’s normal for you to have adverse reactions to smells like that. The book I’m reading now says that sometimes smells you were used to before can trigger nausea.” Crowley groaned again as he closed his eyes and let his forehead rest on the seat. He really appreciated Muriel putting so much research into his symptoms, but he really didn’t want to hear about it right then. Muriel continued to rub his back, offering comfort as Crowley rested against the cold porcelain.“It is troubling that Hell, or that demon rather, were able to smell it from outside the shop.”

“Demon thing. Smelling things. I don’t know why.” He croaked without moving his head from the seat. “I hate smells. Horrible things.”

“We have to figure out the miracle soon before they figure anything else out.” Crowley leaned up as Muriel handed him the damp cloth, and he held it against his forehead in an attempt to try and quell the rising nausea. “I have some ideas that may work. I just need a little more time.”

What was he doing?

Despite Muriel's kindness, Crowley couldn't shake off the feeling of guilt for involving them in demonic matters. They were willing to risk themself to protect him without truly understanding how dangerous it was. As Crowley stared at the concerned expression on Muriel's face, he realized he needed to find a solution that didn’t involve them.

The miracles to help him before were minor, but asking them to help hide his… situation… well— He couldn’t do it. Not to Muriel. He cared about them and wouldn’t be the reason they got hurt or worse. 

He needed to leave. 

“S’fine. Jus’long as I can lay here for a little while…” He offered them a weak smile.

“You want some tea?” Muriel asked, their voice filled with concern.

“Yesss…” He hissed miserably. He listened as they left the bathroom, knowing that he preferred his tea not miracled up. 

Of course they were going to take the extra time to make it for him. Because Muriel was just like that. It made him feel worse for taking advantage of their kindness. Crowley waited until Muriel's footsteps faded down the hall before attempting to stand.

Crowley pushed himself up off the floor, swaying slightly. He needed to move fast before they got back. 

He could make it to the front door. 

He could make it to the Bentley. 

He could make it to his flat. 

After that? 

Well, he would handle it.

He stumbled as he headed for the door as quietly as possible, ignoring the dizziness surging through him. Right when his hand touched the handle he heard Muriel give a tutting noise behind him. 

“Caught you.” Crowley froze but didn’t turn around He could feel Muriel's gaze boring into his back. “I knew you were going to try something.”

“What?” He turned to look at them then. He noticed that they had not gone to make tea, instead had leaned against a pillar so they wouldn’t be visible as he stumbled to the door. Muriel crossed their arms, a knowing look in their eyes.

Smart Angel. He thought with a little bit of pride. 

“Crowley. I may be new to Earth, but I wasn’t created yesterday. You are a lot less sneaky than you think. You were planning on leaving.”

“I was… getting coffee—“ Crowley scrambled to come up with a plausible excuse, but Muriel's disapproving gaze made his sentence trail off. 

“Oh yeah, right now? Alright. I’ll go with you. I’ll watch you drink the whole thing—“ Crowley’s stomach turned at the thought of former usual coffee order. “I’ll believe that’s what you were doing if you can drink the whole thing without making a face like you licked the sidewalk.”

“Fine. You win. I was leaving.” Crowley sighed, defeated. 

Muriel stared at him for a long time before they sighed too. They walked over so they were standing right in front of Crowley. 

“Why?” Crowley took a deep breath, considering how to respond. Finally, he chose to be honest.

Go figure, he thought. 

“Because this is not the type of situation you need to be getting muddled up in. You are going to get in trouble or hurt.”

“Crowley, I’m a nobody—“ 

“Don’t you dare say that, you said before when we were in Heaven, you ARE NOT a nobody—“ He snapped. 

“No, you listen.” They snapped right back and Crowley couldn’t help but be surprised by it. “I am a nobody in Heaven. I am ok with that. I only got this job because of being in the right place at the right time. I care about you and I already care about Bean. You may be able to take care of yourself normally, but right now you can’t. Keeping you two from harm is more important to me than anything else.”

Damn Muriel and their ability to constantly get him choked up. 

“I don’t need you to protect me.” 

“Well, then, stay so you can protect me.”

He knew it was shit. He was the more defenseless out of the two of them at that point, but Muriel was playing to his pride. Once again he thought, smart angel. 

“Well, if you insist.” Crowley mumbled and Muriel beamed at him. 

Week Eleven

“This is a disaster.”

“Oh, it’s not so bad. It’s barely noticeable.”

“Barely noticeable, right. I’ve always been slim. Serpentine and slender. I look like I’ve gone and swallowed a football.”

“Oh don’t be dramatic. I’d say more like a smaller melon. A cantaloupe, maybe? It’s actually pretty endearing.”

“Don’t you dare. This is not endearing.”

“It just means Bean is growing! It’s good.”

Crowley grumbled as he hesitantly let his hand hover over his midsection. He couldn’t even let his hand rest against his stomach. It was still hard to accept that something was growing there. It was easier to just deal with the sickness and exhaustion when the physical changes weren’t obvious. The sickness had calmed down and only bothered him with very specific smells but the exhaustion was going strong. The problem now was that he woke up to a visible baby bump the three in the know besides him were calling it. 

It was unsettling. He almost wanted to go back to just getting ill constantly. 

His anxiety grew every time he glanced at Muriel's calendar, filled with highlighted dates and notes. They were trying to be helpful but it just reminded him that the further along he got, the more he had to face the fact that he was running out of time.

“I’m just going to do a jumper and avoid any form fitting apparel until the end of this gestation.”

“Pregnancy.” Muriel sighed as they helped him pull a large black sweater over his head. “I can feel how worried you are, Crowley. Perhaps you could use the day to rest and relax. I’ll make you some tea. We don’t have to do this today. We still have time.” Muriel suggested, with a bright smile.

He never would have thought that he would crave a cup of tea, but here he was being soothed by the idea of it. He was becoming soft. 

“No, it has to be now. Especially if it doesn’t work. We are running out of time to figure out back up plans. ”

“It’s going to work Crowley. It’s simple enough to not be noticed, but specific enough not to go wrong. I’ve got this.”

“I know, I know," Crowley mumbled, pulling the sweater down to cover the bump. “But shit happens.”

“You sure you don’t want a cup of tea first?” Muriel offered and Crowley shook his head gently. 

“Positive.” Muriel nodded and clasped Crowley's hands gently, offering a moment of reassurance before they closed their eyes. 

There was something happening in the Book of Life. A new section that was still blank, but a new one nonetheless. The book itself was a complicated mess of history, prophecy, and meticulously kept roster of all beings in the universe. A new section seeming to create itself out of thin air? Unheard of. Aziraphale had never seen it in his entire existence. Creatures going extinct on earth? Of course, but even evolution of species had been properly documented and foretold in the Book of Life. Or at least from Aziraphale could gleam from it the few times he had been allowed to see it before returning to Heaven. 

Now as the Supreme Archangel of Heaven, he had a much deeper understanding of the book. It’s the only book that terrified him. It could unmake entire timelines if it was tampered with by someone with the proper clearance. He had only gained the ability to touch it only recently, but he already understood the gravity of its power. The rules were strict for a reason. Just a single word being scratched out could shift the fabric of reality. 

Although Aziraphale was feeling the pressure from the Metatron to understand what was happening with the book, he couldn't help but feel his own sense of dread. He couldn't put a finger on it, but there was an unease in the air that made him apprehensive. He had agreed to go along with the Metatron's plan for the greater good, but he secretly had his own plans in the works. 

The Gabriel and Beezelbub situation was really throwing a wrench in those said plans.  

The worst part of it was that he couldn't shake off the feeling that Muriel and Crowley were keeping crucial information from him. Though he had made it clear what he had told Muriel was extremely confidential information from Heaven, it was obvious Crowley knew what he had told them now too. 

They both just refused to divulge anything that they knew. They were treating him the same way he used to treat Gabriel. It was infuriating. 

He had always prided himself on his intuition, and it was telling him that the possibility of an angel and a demon producing a child was not something Heaven wanted. The interest in finding the future half occult and ethereal infant did not feel like the actions of a loving, concerned group of celestial beings. It felt ominous. 

Gabriel and Beezelbub loved each other, he knew that for a fact. Despite his opinions on them separately, he couldn't stand the thought of them facing such danger because of their feelings for each other or what they created out of that love. He knew what it felt like to not be able to be with the one he loved. The pain of separation was something he wouldn't wish on anyone, not even on his worst enemy.

He had a feeling that the child may be the reason for a new section in the Book of Life, even if a name had yet to appear on the roster. He watched it like a hawk for any changes. 

He would make sure the child was safe, no matter what. He would find the former Supreme Archangel, with or without Muriel and Crowley’s cooperation.  

Though getting Crowley to trust that he was genuinely still on his side felt impossible. He couldn’t even get him to not be hostile the second they were in the same room together. 

That was his goal as crossed the street to Nina’s coffee shop. He would arrive at the bookshop that day with Crowley’s usual order in hand as an olive branch to open the door to mending their tattered relationship. 

He hadn’t expected to be glared at the second he had stepped into Nina’s shop, he had thought Nina and him had been on better terms. But now, seeing the look on Nina's face, he realized that she had definitely picked a side in his and Crowley’s current rift. 

Aziraphale left the coffee shop thoroughly confused when Nina added a couple of chocolate croissants to the order. She gave him explicit instructions that the pastries were not for him, that he was to deliver them to the bookshop for Crowley.  When he tried to question why Crowley, of all people, would want a pastry of any kind she proceeded to lecture him about minding his own business. 

He felt scolded and tense by the time he reached the bookshop. 

Only to find the door was locked. 

He peeked through the window in hopes of seeing some sign of movement inside, but the interior was dark.

He could, of course, use his power to open the door. But he refrained from doing so, not wanting to impose. That is what he was doing he realized. 

He was an unwanted guest. 

This wasn’t his life anymore. He had become what Gabriel had been to them. 

He set the pastries and the coffee on the front step before feeling a wave of loneliness as he turned away from the bookshop. He wondered if it was time he should stop intruding and just figure it out on his own.

It was hard to come to terms with it, but he may have truly lost his friend for good. 

And it was his own damned fault.

Chapter Text

-Month Four-

Week Fourteen

The miracle worked. Or at least it seemed to. They monitored the activity around the shop to be sure, but it looked like it was holding. Crowley hadn't detected any disturbances or anomalies, so he tried to relax.

It was brilliant. Muriel was like a ventriloquist, but instead of a voice it was the baby’s aura. Anyone who could sense auras, the closer they got to Crowley the less they could sense the baby. 

Muriel had explained that they couldn’t mask their aura completely because it was growing stronger every day, but rerouting it was easy enough without drawing attention. It always felt like the ethereal aura was close, but almost like it was just a block over. 

It didn’t completely rid them of the issue of the increased demonic activity around the bookshop, but it did send them on a bit of a goose chase at least. It made the possibility of Crowley leaving the bookshop safer. 

Not that Crowley was chomping at the bit to do that at all. He had given into the act of wallowing, despite Muriel’s claim that he was nesting. He knew he was just being a miserable lump and feeling sorry for himself. 

He hated himself for hoping Aziraphale would start coming around again. After that surprise visit he hadn’t shown himself again and it felt Crowley had to start over in mourning the loss of his presence. 

He tried to tell himself it was for the best. Aziraphale being around would make hiding his condition from him almost impossible. 

It didn’t make his heart hurt any less, though. He felt pathetic to still want the angel so much. To still love him as much. And yet, every time the bell above the bookshop door jingled, Crowley's heart couldn't help but leap with hope.

The second week into Crowley moping and haunting the darkest corner’s of the bookshop Muriel had had enough. 

“Walking and fresh air is good for you and Bean.” They had said and made Crowley put on something other than the same oversized sweatshirt he had been living in for days at a time. 

He wouldn’t admit it, but showering and putting on something that was more his former style made him feel so much better. He knew Muriel knew by the little smug smile they had as they made their way to St. James Park. 

“I’ve not had the chance to see the park yet! I think this will be a nice change of pace for you and Bean.”

“Yeah yeah… I’m sure.” He said with no heat as he and Muriel climbed out of the car. They smiled at him and bumped their shoulder to his as they made their way into the park. “I’m just surprised I’ve convinced you to wear something that isn’t white and cream. You look good in green.”

“You think? I think it’s my favorite color. I like how much green is on Earth.”

Crowley made a positive hum in response as they casually sauntered. He wish he had thought to bring frozen peas for the ducks, but that may be a better outing for the Spring. 

Feeding ducks in the cold weather was not appealing. It was already full Autumn in London and he was discovering that his preference for being warm and cozy was growing the further he got in his… situation. 

When was he going to be comfortable with actually accepting it? He was in his fourth month and he still couldn’t let himself play along with Muriel’s temporary name for the baby. 

The baby. He was having a baby. 

“Crowley? You going radio silent again?” Muriel asked, more than likely due to the fact that they had been walking for a long time in complete silence. 

He blinked, coming out of his thoughts to look at them. Before he could answer his attention settled on what was behind them. 

The band stand. It was a charming structure, a picturesque addition to the park. 

Too bad for him it held so many memories. 

“You know…” Crowley started to say as he slowly made his way past Muriel toward the band stand. “This was one of Aziraphale and I’s secret meeting spots when we were having to keep the fact that we were working together under wraps. When we had to keep our friendship secret.”

“Oh?” Muriel asked tentatively, as they followed him, trying to give him room to speak. 

“Yeah. Before the apocalypse we met here. It was the first time I asked him to.. nngk, fuck, it doesn’t matter—“ Crowley’s voice felt tight as he slowed just a few feet from the steps. 

“No, it does matter. I haven’t heard this story. Will you please continue?” Muriel’s voice was so soft and soothing that Crowley felt like it was balm for how he was feeling. 

“I asked him to run away with me.  He turned me down. Later that day, well, the bookshop burned down and I thought he had been killed— I didn’t really care he had turned me down. Not really. After the apocalypse failed spectacularly and we were free I had thought…” He made his way up the stairs and rested a hand on one of the pillars. He took a moment to just collect his thoughts as he listened to the muffled noises of the park around them. It was so peaceful, it didn’t fit the grief that churned in his gut as he stood there. Muriel stood by him quietly, offering Crowley support as he struggled to put his feelings into words. He took a deep breath and finally continued, "I had thought maybe we could start over. No, not start over. It felt different, like it was just us. That we could finally be an Us without the fear of Heaven and Hell breathing down our necks. I had thought he felt the same, but.. I was wrong.”

“I won’t try to convince you otherwise, Crowley. I may feel differently but I know that doesn’t help you now. But, I want you to know that I am your friend. That the time I’ve spent on Earth has been the happiest of my life. I consider you as part of my Us.” Muriel wrapped an arm around his shoulders and Crowley felt himself sag into the touch. 

“Fuck— don’t do that. I refuse to cry.” His voice came out strangled as he leaned more into Muriel’s side. “I know I’ve been an absolute nightmare. But I don’t know what I would have done without you.  Thank you. You are part of my Us too. Now stop this talk or I’ll start blubbering in public.”

“Fair enough. I think you need some rest. How about we get you home? We could stop by the patisserie?” Muriel gave him a gentle squeeze and an awkward wink. He snorted softly in response. No matter how much he tried to teach them, their ability to wink looked like they were desperately trying to get something out of their eye. They also knew it amused Crowley when they tried so they never tried to improve. 

“I think I just want the rest, I’ll pass on the patisserie today. I’m pretty tired.” His voice was unusually soft and he tried to ignore the look of concern that crossed Muriel’s face. The day had been heavy enough and he could feel the exhaustion creeping up on him. 

The drive back to the book shop was quiet and thankfully uneventful. The Bentley still refused to go any faster than a solid ten under the speed limit as usual, but Crowley couldn’t gather the energy to care. By the time they exited the car and made their way into the shop Crowley felt like he was having to physically drag himself up the stairs to the flat. 

He wanted to just turn his mind off for a while and escape the constant gnawing heartache the last few months had been for him. He longed for peace, for a moment of respite that sinking into a dreamless dark would give him. 

He heard a snap behind him as he shuffled into the bedroom, felt a shift in the air, and looked down to see he was wearing dark green fleece pajamas. 

“I know they aren’t as stylish as you’d like, but they are soft. You deserve soft, Crowley. I also think the green brings out your hair.” Muriel said gently as they turned down the covers for Crowley to crawl into bed. They pulled the covers up to his shoulders and tucked him in like a child. He would have scoffed before, but the extra care Muriel was showing him made his throat burn with unshed tears. Muriel patted the blanket before heading to the door. “You relax and I’ll bring you some tea.”

“Muriel?” They paused at door and looked at him expectantly. “Thank you.”

Muriel smiled and nodded before they left the room. Crowley was asleep before they returned with the tea. 

Week Sixteen

Muriel was at a loss on what to do for Crowley. He had crawled into bed that afternoon after they left the park and hadn’t woken up since. 

They knew that it wasn’t unusual for Crowley to sleep for long periods of time, but Muriel was worried about him. He hadn’t been in the best of moods, almost melancholy when he had fallen asleep. It was concerning to Muriel that Crowley had appeared progressively more miserable as time went on. It didn’t seem to just be because of the pregnancy. 

They knew reaching out to Aziraphale was completely out of the question. Crowley would see that as a breach of trust. But, they wished that they could come to some sort of reconciliation. It felt almost impossible, but Muriel couldn't shake off the feeling of wanting to bridge the gap between Crowley and Aziraphale.

It wasn’t there place to meddle though. So they focused what they could do that wouldn’t be betraying Crowley’s trust. 

That’s when it came to them. Crowley’s plants. They had been to Crowley’s flat and seen the room full of beautiful plants and how much Crowley cared for them— despite what he wanted them to believe. 

So Muriel checked in with Nina and Maggie before braving their first ever taxi to Crowley’s currently uninhabited flat. 

It didn’t take much to get inside, but as soon as Muriel entered the flat they shivered. It felt like a cave. It was cold, dark and there was a smell. A bad smell. 

It almost smelled like… sulfur?

Oh no. 

Chapter Text

-Month Five-

Week Seventeen

Recently waking up was a rollercoaster of sensations and emotions for Crowley. Comfort and safety of being in Aziraphale’s old bed was a peace he never knew he needed or wanted. The faint scent of the angel surrounding him was so soothing he couldn’t comprehend there could be anywhere else in the world he’d rather be. 

Then reality would settle in. The sudden flood of remembering his current predicament was disorienting. Muriel would normally sense that he was awake and pop in to check on him— but that day was different. 

Not only was Muriel not in the room, and Crowley realized he couldn’t sense them nearby, there were dinging and buzzing sounds echoing through the room. 

Crowley slowly pushed himself up to get a better look around and that’s when he noticed the room was littered with… clocks?

Alarm clocks. Alarm clocks that were all going off at once. 

He was about to throw the blankets off of his legs when a large gold wind up alarm clock popped into existence right in front of his face and landed with a soft thump in his lap. Before he could even touch it the bells on top of the clock face started to ring. 

“What… the fuck?”

Something was wrong. 

The incessant cacophony rattled his nerves, pulling him fully from the comfort of the bed and into, 'fight or flight,’ mode. 

He needed to find Muriel. 

Crowley snatched his phone before dodging and weaving through the relentless din, he sensed an urgency driving the chaos around him. 

“Muriel?!” He called out through the tiny flat in hopes they would answer but the only response was the steady clatter of the clocks, muffled now that the door to the bedroom was shut behind him. 

Crowley checked his phone, hoping for a message from Muriel, but nothing from them. Although he did have a few messages and missed calls from Maggie and Nina. 

Knowing how busy the coffee shop was, he called Maggie first. 

After just two rings she answered and sounded as anxious as he felt. 

“Mr. Crowley! Oh thank goodness. Are you alright?”

He made his way out of the apartment and into the bookshop. Still, it was eerily quiet. No sign of Muriel anywhere. 

“Yeah— yeah, I was asleep. Is Muriel with you?”

“Oh dear, no. We haven’t seen them in days. We have been so worried about you two. We saw that the window on the front door had been broken and we were worried that you both had been taken.”

Crowley was about to answer when he froze. Glass covered the floor off of the entry way of the bookshop. A brick sat in the middle of the shards and Crowley carefully stepped over them, feeling a chill whisper up his spine. He picked up the brick and turned it over to see a note tied to it. 

WE GOT YER ANGLE, it read. His heart pounded. The spelling was bad as usual, but the message was clear. 

“Shit. Shit—!!!”

“What?!” Maggie almost shrieked. 

“Hell has Muriel. I have to go.”

The Book of Life had changed again. More, a name had finally made it to the roster on the once blank new page. 

He had to look shocked and bide his time till he was alone, because he couldn’t risk the Metatron realizing he had any idea what it meant. 

Bean. The name that had shown up was Bean. BEAN. 

Or at least that was who they were being referred to as. Like how Crowley had once been Crawley, and an angel before that— names could change in the book. As well as in Crowley’s case they could go to a different roster. As in an angel falling and becoming a demon. 

But, once again, this was completely new territory. 

He almost laughed at the absurdity of it and the name Bean until he felt his insides turn to ice.

Muriel had said Bean that day. Crowley and Muriel had played it off as if they had been calling the little succulent… shrub? Some sort of plant he remembered— but they had seemed so off about the whole thing. 

They weren’t talking about a plant. They were talking about a baby. But, he hadn’t sensed Gabriel or Beezelbub in the shop. Had they perhaps performed a miracle? Highly doubtful since the alarms had gone off so spectacularly trying to hide one being when he and Crowley had cloaked Gabriel. There was no way they could have covered an ethereal AND an occult plus their unborn child without setting off so much as a blip on the radar in Heaven. 

“Supreme Archangel Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale jumped and looked up to see the Metatron staring at him. 

“O-Oh, forgive me. I got lost in thought. I am thoroughly perplexed on—“ He felt his phone, more specifically his Earth phone buzz in his pocket. His attention snapped back to the conversation at hand and continued, ”—on the… meaning of this? If a name is appearing now does that mean that the baby is self aware?"

“What ever it is, it knows itself as… Bean.” The Metatron made a sour face at the name, but continued. “This situation is becoming more dire. We need to find them before this abomination is born.”

Abomination? Aziraphale had to clench his jaw and flex his toes in his shoes not to give an angry retort to that. He could feel his phone starting to buzz again and he knew he had to answer it as soon as possible. 

The Metatron's eyes pinned him with an expectant gaze and Aziraphale knew he had to give some sort of response. 

“Yes, of course. If you will excuse me. As you said, time is of the essence.” He said smoothly, attempting to maintain an air of calm. With a respectful nod, Aziraphale turned and slipped away, heart pounding.

The moment he felt enough distance had been put between him and the room housing the Book of Life he pulled out his phone. 

He had fourteen missed calls from Maggie along with three texts saying, “EMERGENCY”

He hit call and kept moving swiftly toward his office. When it connected Maggie immediately started speaking before he could speak. 

“Muriel was taken. Mr. Crowley said Hell took them— it’s been days. Mr. Crowley hadn’t known until today because he had been asleep— he’s gone down there to get them. Mr. Aziraphale please help them. I know Mr. Crowley is going to be so cross if he knows I called you, but they are in danger! Both of them, I can’t tell you why but… please help them.”

Oh— he had his suspicions on why, he thought bitterly. 

He suspected Heaven was looking for the wrong angel and demon.

“I’m on my way.”

He had done his best to dress like his normal self before he hurried toward to elevator for what he had hoped to be a rescue mission, but the look Nina had given him when she stepped in between him and the door spoke volumes. 

“You aren’t in any condition to run off to Hell, Crowley.”

“Muriel has already been there too long, I have to go.”

“What about Bean?”

“Yeah?” He adjusted his glasses as an excuse not to look at Nina.

“What if something happens? At least let me come with you.”

“Look… eh..” He groaned a little and looked past Nina at the elevator. “If it wasn’t for you lot I wouldn’t have survived Aziraphale leaving. I’m not going to risk any of you. I’m coming back and I’m bringing Muriel with me.”

“You had better hurry up then.” Nina said with a firm nod, stepping aside to let him pass. 

The elevator doors dinged open, and Crowley stepped inside. Nina kept eye contact with him until the doors closed. 

His heart felt like it was in his throat as the elevator descended. He couldn't shake the image of Muriel being trapped in Hell. They had never experienced it before.

Were they scared? Did they know that Crowley would come for them?

More anxiety gnawed at him as the elevator continued its silent journey downward.

Crowley knew he was in trouble when he first stepped off the elevator into Hell. Other than the occasional lower ranked demon skittering by, the outskirts of Hell were deserted as usual. 

He thought the smell of loitering demons around the bookshop was bad— but Hell was smelling the source. He had almost retched on the spot when the doors had opened, but he had miraculously kept himself in check. 

His steps were cautious as he ventured deeper, shadows weaving sinister patterns around him.

He was being watched, but that wasn’t a surprise. He was always watched when he ventured down below. 

As he navigated the maze of scorching corridors, Crowley couldn't shake a niggling sense of unease when he saw the pits of Hell fire. 

Something told him that he needed to stay away from it. 

When he finally arrived to the Bullpen that was the epicenter of command, he was not surprised to see Shax sitting where Beezelbub used to when they were in control. Muriel was sitting on the stairs at their feet. 

“Took you long enough, Crowley.” Shax’s voice was a mixture of mockery and boredom as they leaned back in Beezelbub's old chair. 

"Charming as ever, Shax," Crowley remarked, forcing a sardonic smile. “Next time though? Try texting me. A brick through the window is not the fastest for of communication these days.”

“I’m to be called Lord Shax!”

They shot back, sitting up with a hint of annoyance, making the fire surrounding the area flare up. Muriel flinched and Crowley had to clamp down on the need to grab them and run. He needed to be clever about this. 

“Yeah, Yeah—“ Crowley waved them off with a bored flip of his hand. “Lord Shax, you seem to have an angel in your midst that does not belong down here. Care to enlighten me why?”

“My contact from upstairs says Heaven thinks you’re hiding the traitors. There is talk they have spawned.”

“Don’t you mean Heaven and Hell think we are hiding them? I’m not surprised Heaven is chatting about it. They gossip like a bunch of birds up there. But if I’m not mistaken, Hastur stank up our doorstep other day to talk about it.” As if on que Hastur walked in and grabbed Muriel’s arm to make them stand. Crowley bristled and his mouth set in a grim line as he tried to keep his composure. 

“No, I don’t think that anymore. I think they are looking for the wrong angel and demon.”

Crowley’s insides clenched as his gaze quickly flitted to Muriel again. He was thankful for the glasses because knew his eyes would have given him away. 

“I think this is the angel, and you’re the one who spawned with them.”

Oh… so close. But, as usual, Shax was an idiot. 

“I keep telling them Crowley that I’m not—“

“Shut it, you—!!”

“That is your theory? I’m sure you’re thinking if you’re right that this scheme is going to make you look good? Make sure you keep your cozy little promotion?” Crowley interrupted, his voice maintaining an air of nonchalance.

“It’s not a theory! I’ll prove it.” Shax snapped their fingers, and a small plume of smoke puffed from beneath Muriel's feet. They squeaked and stumbled back as far as they could while still being held by Hastur. 

“Hell fire can kill an angel, but what if they are carrying a halfbreed? The Supreme Archangel is immune, and you are immune to holy water. I know if this one is carrying a halfbreed then they maybe they won’t react to it.”

Of course the lie that saved them before has come full circle to bite him in the ass. Crowley grimaced inwardly, hating the gamble Shax had roped them into. 

“So you are going to kill an angel, the representative of Heaven on Earth, to prove a point? On a hunch? There are rules, Shax. Even with the war against Heaven, you have to follow protocol.” He had started very casually moving himself closer, knowing that the situation was getting more volatile by the second. 

“Lord! LORD SHAX!” Shax screeched as they stood. Their eyes started to dart around nervously, though. Crowley had planted doubt. That’s all he needed. Crowley seized the opportunity, taking a step forward with cautious confidence.

“Let me take the angel back to their post, no harm no foul. I don’t even think Heaven knows they are gone.”

“You’re just saying that.. I don’t believe you.” Shax said, but the uncertainty flickering in their eyes told him that they did. Crowley pressed on, exploiting the momentary weakness with a persuasive edge. He took Muriel by the elbow and started to pull them down the stairs. 

“Lord Shax! You’re really just going to let them leave?!” Hastur said in complete disbelief as Muriel yanked their arm out of his grip. 

“Just let them go. Don’t be an idiot and gamble—” Crowley winced when he saw Shax hear the word idiot. He knew he had messed up when the fire pits around them flared higher. He pulled Muriel to his chest in time to protect them from the burst of flames. 

He could feel the absolute agony tear up his back as the heat scorched him through his jacket. 

Muriel gripped Crowley tightly as he clenched his jaw so he wouldn’t yelp in pain.

“M—Muriel—Ngk— you—are you ok?” He whispered and Muriel gripped him tighter. 

“Crowley—! You protected me—!” Muriel’s voice was brimming with tears but Crowley shook his head to cut them off. 

“Not now— Go— go, we have to go— to the elevator—!!” Crowley gasped and started pushing Muriel toward the way he came. Muriel hurried while clinging to his hand to make sure they didn’t get separated as they ran. 

Flames licked at the shadows, chasing them with a crimson fury that illuminated the path behind them. 

As the fire in their wake started to dim and Shax’s screams quieted down— their sprint became more of a jog, then a brisk walk, until the elevator to the surface finally came into view. 

Crowley’s physical relief caused him to stumble as the pain caught up to him, gasping as he braced against the wall. 

“Crowley—! What wrong?!” Muriel said as they went to rest their hand on his back. A normal gesture they did to soothe him but it caused him to cry out in pain from his burn being touched. “Oh Crowley… the fire actually burned you?!”

“Y—Yeah," he choked out as he straighten up, willing his legs to push onward. 

“I don’t think I can heal this quickly. Hell fire burns aren’t something I’ve had to work on before.” Muriel sounded so scared but was doing a valiant job of holding it together. 

Crowley was about to say something when everything went still. A flutter, almost like bubbles under the skin of his stomach.

The baby. The baby was kicking. Bean. Bean was kicking. 

In the midst of chaos, Crowley finally became aware of them.  He looked down, his hand instinctively moving to rest on his belly for the first time, feeling the gentle bumps that seemed so out of place amidst the horrible environment they were in. 

He let out a pained laugh as he looked up at Muriel. 

“Bean… they are kicking.” Muriel’s eyes widened, a mixture of relief and awe momentarily washing away the fear. 

“We have to get you and Bean out of here, Crowley.” Muriel went to help him walk but he refused. 

“We have to get to the surface and back into the bookshop as quickly as possible, but they can’t see that I’m hurt. It’s too suspicious.” Muriel looked like they wanted to argue, but they knew Crowley was right. 

They closed the distance to the elevator and Muriel started mashing the button repeatedly while glancing back at Crowley, their face etched with worry. 

“Muriel, it’s ok. We got this far. If we can get out of Heaven together, Hell is a piece of cake.” He huffed through the pain and tried to grin at them. It came out more like a grimace. 

The doors dinged and started to open— just for them to be greeted by an extremely irate looking Aziraphale. 

“Supreme Archangel Aziraphale?!” Muriel squeaked, stepping back instinctively. Aziraphale looked at them, his expression a blend of anger and concern.

“Oh for fuck’s sake. What are you doing here?!” Crowley barked as he pushed himself and Muriel into the elevator, practically punching the button for Earth. He wasn’t going to wait around in Hell for Aziraphale to blather a list of long winded excuses. 

“I came down to retrieve Muriel. I was informed they had been kidnapped.” Aziraphale said crisply. Crowley snorted. 

“I took care of it. Didn’t need your help.”He was barely managing to keep his balance, he braced a hand on the cool surface of the metal wall as he tried to focusing on the chimes of the elevator ascending. He gave the illusion of casual nonchalance. 

Silence stretched on where the only sound was the humming of the elevator. Aziraphale finally turned and pinned them both with a glare. 

“Who is Bean?” Crowley felt Muriel tense beside him, but they didn’t say a word. He glanced at Muriel, then back at Aziraphale.

“Bean who?”

“Don’t lie to me!”

“Who’s lying?”

“Muriel has already lied. They told me they knew nothing about Beezelbub and Gabriel—“

“Ah, see, they didn’t lie. They don’t even know where those two are.”

“Well they also said they would not speak on highly classified matters dealing with Heaven—“

“With other angels. I’m not an angel.” Aziraphale’s face turned an angry shade of red when he realized that Crowley was right. 

“Obviously! Teaching an angel of Heaven to do things like that!” Aziraphale huffed.

“I just taught them how to protect themself from Heaven and its toxicity.”Muriel just watched the argument like a tennis match. The tension in the elevator was palpable, the small space growing more stifling with each exchanged word.

“Apparently it’s not Heaven they needed protection from.” 

“What is that supposed—“ Crowley suddenly felt a little whoozy and he shook his head to clear it. 

Muriel looked at him in concern but Aziraphale stepped between them to speak to Muriel directly. 

“Muriel, how are you feeling? Are you hurt?”

“What? No— I’m fine, but Crowley—“ Crowley hissed and shook his head at them as Aziraphale started talking again. 

“They didn’t try to hurt you or the baby in Hell?”

“No… wait… do you think I’m—?!” Muriel’s eyes widened. 

“It’s ok, we will get some where safe and get you the best care.” Aziraphale spoke softly to them, unlike the tone he had been using for Crowley.

Figures. Crowley thought and scoffed as he spoke up. 

“Safe?! Heaven isn’t safe.”

“I will make sure they are safe from the likes of you! Unlike Gabriel, I actually know how hard childbirth can be on a corporation.” Crowley paled at the thought. Oh no, he had forgotten that part. The actual birthing process. Aziraphale must have read his expression as an admission of guilt as he continued. “Oh, did you not think of that part when you defiled them?!”

Muriel's jaw dropped, realizing the misunderstanding swirling between them. Crowley snarled and whirled on Aziraphale. 

Let the pompous angel think what he wanted. 

“Exactly. I’m a big nasty demon tempting angels to my bed. I’m so awful, how can you bear to be near me?!”

“Temptation is in your essence, I would expect no less.” Aziraphale said coldly  

“What, you think I couldn’t have love for them, Supreme Archangel?” 

“You’re a demon. Demons cannot love.” Crowley jerked back in shock at the words and the anger in Aziraphale’s tone. He felt like he’d been slapped. He could barely make out what he said next over the sudden ringing in his ears. “How dare you betray them like that. Taking advantage of an innocent in your charge?!”

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open to reveal a blissfully vacant street. 

“Aziraphale?!” Muriel snapped and shoved him. “What are you talking about?! I’m not the pregnant one you… you— simpleton!” 

“What… but then who…!?” Aziraphale stammered, his daggers of accusation dissolving into puzzlement. 

The pause that followed was as suffocating as the heaviness in the air.

Crowley couldn’t take it as he stumbled out onto the street in shock, feeling the gorge rise in his throat. He was going to be sick. 

Oh no, was all he thought before he quickly scrambled to the alley and retched behind the trash cans. He told himself it was from the smell of sulfur that clung to his clothes, but he knew better. 

Aziraphale’s words had twisted his insides in ways he never imagined. He never thought his angel would ever think that of him after all they had been through. 

No. Not his angel. Would never be his angel. 

“Crowley! Oh goodness, let’s get you inside and cleaned up.”

“I'm— ok, I’m ok.” Crowley muttered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Muriel rested his arm across their shoulders to steady him, refusing to take no as an answer as they helped them across the street to the bookshop. 

The door flew open in welcome and upon seeing the glass on the floor Muriel snapped their fingers and it was like the window had never been broken. 

As soon as they crossed the threshold, Crowley almost went limp as he sank to the floor. 

He was in a combination of intense physical and emotional pain and the world was spinning. 

“Crowley— what is wrong with him?” For sounding like such an avenging angel before, Aziraphale sounded so unsure now. He tried to help Muriel get Crowley to his feet but the demon flinched away. 

“Don’t— don’t touch me..” Crowley tried to sound firm, but his voice cracked. He stood up but immediately realized his mistake when everything suddenly went black. 

“Crowley?!” Muriel yelped as they caught them before they fell to the ground. They braced him against them while they tried to check his back. “Oh no, Crowley…”

“What is going on?! What happened?!”Aziraphale crouched down so he was eye level with Muriel. 

“He got hurt, protecting me. Hell fire.” Muriel said as they crouched down to try to pick Crowley up. 

“Hell fire? But, he’s a demon— he’s immune to Hell fire.”

“Well… apparently he isn’t right now. Or at least not entirely.” Muriel said through they teeth as they struggled to lift Crowley’s limp form while avoiding his wounds.

“Wait… what are you saying?”

“I’m saying, as much as he is going to be extremely upset for me saying so— but under the circumstances… I would assume he wouldn’t—“ Muriel paused and looked at Aziraphale expectantly. “Actually, you are here so could you just pop him up into bed so we aren’t jostling him around? I don’t exactly have the clearance level to be popping occult beings around the—“

Aziraphale and Muriel blinked when an actual popping sound interrupted them and Crowley disappeared. 

“Thank you for that. Otherwise I’d have to carry him and risk hurting him—“

“That… that wasn’t me.” Muriel frowned. 

“But if it wasn't you, then who...?” Muriel turned on their heel and hurried through the shop and up the stairs to the flat with Aziraphale following quickly behind them. 

Upon reaching the bedroom, they found Crowley lying on his side in bed, wearing the green flannel pajamas he had been wearing before. 

“Why are there clocks all over the floor? What is going on?!” He whispered harshly. Muriel eased the door closed and sighed. 

“I think it’s Bean.” Muriel said as if that explained everything. Aziraphale ran his hands down is lapels to stave off his growing hysteria. 

“Who is Bean?!” Aziraphale demanded, exasperation leaking into his voice.

“I was going to make some tea.”

“Good lord, Muriel! Out with it! You can trust me!” Muriel shuffled awkwardly, avoiding Aziraphale's fierce gaze.

“Bean is the baby. The baby that Crowley is carrying. Crowley is the one who is pregnant. I think because of Bean being part angel Crowley isn’t immune to Hell fire at the moment… and he hasn’t been able to use his powers.”

The words hung in the air like a thunderclap, resonating with disbelief.

Crowley? Crowley was carrying a child? CROWLEY?! And he hadn’t been able to use his powers, but he went into Hell anyway… and Aziraphale had said… oh he was an idiot. He was an absolute… idiot. 

“So you— you two—“ He stuttered and Muriel let out an exasperated huff. 

“Good Heavens, Aziraphale! No. I am not the other parent!” Muriel cried. They continued, rolling their eyes. “To think such a thing—it's absurd! I’m not talking to you about this anymore until I’ve had some tea and tended Crowley’s burns.”

Crowley’s temperament had definitely rubbed off on Muriel.

“But wait, no, just tell me who the angel is if it isn’t you—“

“Aziraphale. What were you doing about… oh… four and a half months ago?” They raised their eyebrows at him before stepping into the kitchen and out of sight. 

Aziraphale's thoughts raced, his mind flitting back to a particular day. In a flash of memory, he recalled the afternoon he had visited Earth for the first time since he had left for Heaven. When he and Crowley had argued. Argued and—

And…

“Oh.. fuck.”

He was an absolute idiot.

Chapter Text

-Month Six-

Week Twenty One

The first week was surreal. After tucking a very hurt and unconscious Crowley into bed, Aziraphale didn’t know what to do or to say. 

Muriel had went about ensuring Crowley was comfortable, leaving Aziraphale to sit bedside and silently ponder the tangled emotions within him. He jolted when they started to speak. 

“So.. I’m sure you have questions Aziraphale.”They sat down across from him on the opposite side of the bed, a sleeping Crowley between them. 

“I may have a few. How long— ah.. well… never mind. I know the answer to that.” He felt his cheeks burn as he cleared his throat. “How long has he, have you both known?”

“Figured it out pretty soon, maybe a month in? We have been trying to keep him and Bean safe since then. He hasn’t been able to use his powers because of the baby.”Muriel paused, glancing at Crowley's limp form. “This has been really hard on him, Aziraphale. He would never admit it, but he is scared. I don’t know why this is happening or what this has to do with the big plan— but this has really been taking its toll on him physically and emotionally.” 

Aziraphale’s gaze also drifted to Crowley, his heart heavy with concern. 

"If only he'd said something," Aziraphale murmured, almost to himself. Muriel huffed and Aziraphale looked up them again. 

“Forgive my bluntness, but why would he feel safe telling you? I may be out of line, but he feels like you left him, chose Heaven over him, that you would do the same even if you knew about Bean. Also… what you said to him in the elevator.. it was so hurtful. I want to believe you have his best interest in mind, but that was out of character. After that I can see why he was afraid.”

“I know— what I said was… it was cruel and uncalled for. Even if my suspicions were true, he didn’t deserve… I have no excuse for it. But as far as everything else, I didn’t—! I didn’t choose Heaven over him. I went to Heaven because of him. Things are not what they seem, Muriel. I need you to trust that I was trying to protect the Earth and Crowley. That I am still going to do so. I will do everything I can to earn his trust again. If he’s willing of course.” Aziraphale assured, his voice firm but laced with an undertone of desperation. “That also means protecting— oh Lord. He really is with child.”

Realization finally sank in as he stared at Crowley. Muriel stood up and sighed. 

“Yes he is. And he only has a few more months to go if he keeps to a human corporation’s gestation. I have made it my mission to care for him. That means even protecting him from you. So be on your best behavior, Supreme Archangel.” They gave him a sharp look before leaving the room. 

Muriel was more like Crowley than he had previously thought. 

Week Twenty Two

Muriel was much more patient and understanding than Aziraphale felt he deserved. 

Though it took those first few weeks or so for them to stop being chilly toward him. He did not blame them in the slightest. Muriel had grown to be extremely protective of Crowley in the time Aziraphale had been away. 

With Crowley being in a hibernation of sorts, it was up to Muriel to check his healing wounds. 

They tended to the demon’s injuries with a gentle touch, careful not to disturb him, while also chatting softly to Aziraphale could only presume to be the growing life within Crowley.

Bean. Muriel had explained the nickname and it warmed the angels heart to think of it. Then he was immediately riddled with guilt for how he treated Crowley all over again. 

Aziraphale sighed and watched the demon sleep from the doorway of the bedroom. He hoped he woke soon, but he was afraid of what would happen when he did. 

Would Crowley find it in his heart to forgive him? Aziraphale wasn't sure. 

Week Twenty Three

Crowley sat in bed, just staring out the windows and into the dreary morning. 

When he had come to days before, he was confused to where he was. The room was cozy but unfamiliar. It had been so quiet. Nothing like what he was used to in London. 

The cottage was somewhere in the South Downs, or at least that’s what he could glean from looking out the window. 

Apparently, according to Muriel, he had been out for a couple of weeks. They didn’t want to risk him being discovered so Muriel went ahead and set plan into motion they had been working on for the past month. 

Muriel had been planning all along to stash him out in the country side for the rest of his pregnancy. He felt frustrated and helpless because he couldn’t argue that it had been the best course of action. It’s not like he could defend himself if he had been discovered. 

What bothered him now was that the cat was out of the bag. 

Aziraphale knew and helped get him to the cottage. He wasn’t even coherent for the trip. He had no idea how he was transported to the bed he was currently in. He only knew he was there now and he needed to make the best of it. The reality of it all weighed heavily on him. 

There was no going back now. 

He felt a fluttering in his abdomen and he rested his hand over the source. 

He was still in awe in how much had changed in him after feeling them for the first time. He never thought it possible, not in a million years. But, there he was feeling his child kick. 

A sense of wonder broke through the indifference he had tried to cultivate. He never thought he would grow to want the baby. Grow to care for them so deeply. 

But again, there he was. Could it have been tied to his feelings for Aziraphale?

He felt his gut twist at the thought. 

Demons couldn’t love, Aziraphale had said. He knew from personal experience that they couldn’t create. Something he was reminded of everyday when he tried to look at the stars and couldn’t see them. Not only could he not see the stars because of his cursed eyes, they were the last thing he created. Creating anything again, especially something as unfathomable as a life, he thought he hadn’t been capable of it. Something he shouldn’t be allowed to be capable of it. 

Along with his eyes, Crowley felt that he himself was cursed. 

What if the baby inherited his eyes? The thought made his throat burn. What if the baby inherited worse things from him?

“Crowley…? I brought you some tea.” Muriel carefully stepped into the room with a small tray. “I got some Christmas cookies too. They are so bright and cheery looking I thought you would like them.”

Crowley looked down at the plate of cookies blankly. A wide array of festive looking shapes, but then angel blowing a trumpet caught his eye. He’d normally make a snarky joke about it, maybe bite the head off for dramatic effect. Instead, he found himself picking it up gently, almost reverently, and just staring at it. 

Since waking up in the cottage he had been so emotionally numb he barely spoke. Muriel’s face rarely shifted from a look of concern. 

He would say he was completely apathetic if it wasn’t for the guilt that gnawed at him. Guilt for worrying them, guilt for dragging them into his mess, guilt for refusing to acknowledge what Muriel knew all along— that he did care about Bean. 

He felt something brewing in him that wanted to surface, but he didn’t know how to tease it to the surface. Or, more importantly, what it was or how to deal with it. 

“Crowley…?” Muriel sat down beside him, their voice soothing and gentle.

“When I have the baby, maybe I should leave. Just leave and stay away.” Crowley blurted out, but didn’t look at Muriel as he dropped the cookie back onto the plate. 

“What—?” Muriel said, their voice strained. 

“I’m cursed. I’m—“ Crowley could feel his throat click as he tried to continue. “—I’m bad for them. I don’t want them to be subjected to me. They deserve better than that. Better than me. They deserve to be lo—…” 

Crowley’s voice squeaked and if he hadn’t been so miserable he would have been mortified. 

“Crowley, no.. don’t think that way.”

“If.. if demons can’t.. if I can’t  nngk…” He cleared his throat to cover up his wavering voice as he clenched the blanket in his lap in a death grip. “I don’t want them to grow up around that.”    

“Crowley… what Aziraphale said was wrong. It isn’t true.” 

“Why would he say it then?! My heart… it hurts, Muriel. Why am I cursed to feel like my heart is breaking if I can’t love?” His throat was raw with unshed tears as he swallowed thickly. Muriel placed their hand over his as they spoke. 

“Think about how you felt when Bean kicked for the first time. How did you feel?”

Crowley paused, memories washing over him. Warmth, excitement, a thrill he couldn't name illuminated the grief that  ached inside him. But, more than anything, he knew he felt love. A sudden, fierce love that he knew he had never felt before Bean.

He didn’t want to leave, and he felt so selfish for it. He wanted to be there, to hold them, to watch his baby grow. A small, fluttering hope began to take root in him. He looked at Muriel as his chin wobbled from the effort of holding back his grief. 

Then the seal broke and a strangled sob tore out of Crowley’s throat. He covered his face in his hands as his body convulsed with his crying. 

Muriel reached out, delicately wrapping their arms around his trembling shoulders. Sensing Crowley's need for comfort, Muriel gently hushed him, swaying slightly as they comforted him in the warm cocoon.

“See? You do love, Crowley. I think you love so deeply it hurts you so you act like you don’t care most of the time. You have a good heart. Bean is so blessed to have you.” Crowley could only cry harder at that and Muriel rubbed his arm soothingly, careful to avoid his still healing back. 

Between Muriel's gentle embrace, and the fluttering kicking he felt from the baby, a warmth slowly spread through him, calming his turbulent emotions. 

He didn’t know how, but him and Bean were going to be ok. 

Aziraphale didn’t know how to broach the subject of Crowley carrying a child with the demon. Their child. It was both miraculous and inconceivable, a possibility that he never thought possible. He fretted over every word, rehearsing conversations in his head anytime he was alone. 

Crowley hadn’t left the room that first week he had been awake in the cottage let alone even look at him. The master bedroom was Crowley’s safe haven. He would not cross that threshold now that he was awake unless he was invited. 

He would have thought that Crowley had just been angry with him, but now he knew that wasn’t the case. Well, he wasn’t just angry with him. 

Crowley was hurt. Hurt physically from the Hell fire, and emotionally from Aziraphale’s careless words. He had caused Crowley pain. He regretted every vile thing that he had said to Crowley in the elevator. He had never aimed to hurt before, and he was ashamed he had done it to the one being he cherished the most. 

He hadn’t realized at the time, but he had been jealous. So jealous at the thought Crowley had been with someone else that he reacted poorly. 

Now seeing how Muriel and Crowley cared for each other he felt awful for even suggesting it. They worried over each other like siblings, it was a pure affection that he had misread. His accusations were crass and unfounded. He had painted Crowley as the villain because it was easier to cope with his hurt and jealousy. It had come from a place of bitterness. 
 

A simple apology would not suffice. He wanted Crowley to feel comfortable and if that meant a little space to feel safe at the cottage then that was perfectly fine. He had to disappear back to Heaven regularly so as to not raise suspicion among the other angels. Yet each time he returned, he couldn’t help but dwell on his mistakes in the quiet cottage. 

Aziraphale hadn’t meant to overhear Crowley’s admission to Muriel. He had been coming to check on Crowley’s condition after returning from Heaven when he heard voices coming from the room. He hadn’t known Crowley had been awake, Muriel hadn’t updated him yet. More than likely to give Crowley time to adjust to his new environment. 

Hearing Crowley’s grief gave him the hard mental slap he knew now he had deserved. 

He would do what ever Crowley needed, try to be what ever Crowley needed. He would work on rebuilding the trust he had shattered.

But first, he needed to show Crowley he was sincere.

Week Twenty Four

The cottage was cold. Crowley was bundled up like a he was about to brave a snow storm every time he left the bed. 

He had only started leaving the bed after Muriel convinced him it would be good for the baby to move around, maybe even get some fresh air. He couldn’t believe that the baby would be the motivator that made him cave. Either hormones or he’d just gone soft, maybe both, but he wanted to do his best for them. 

He had a feeling that Bean was trying to do the same for him when big, fuzzy, mismatched socks appeared on his feet every morning. They were soft and warm despite coming in a wide range of garish colors. 

At least they weren’t argyle or tartan. 

Despite him being constantly chilly, he felt comfortable in the cottage. Too comfortable. There was even a green house attached. It wasn’t like he had his plants, but the potential of a flourishing collection was there. 

He hated it. Hated it because this was what he had wanted. A little place just like it for him and Aziraphale. Now it was given to him but not how he had wanted it. He couldn’t refuse it out of spite because it would be the best place for Bean. He had realized in the time he had woken up there that he didn’t want them to be in London. It was the best for them to be safely tucked away in the cottage. 

So he had to just deal with it and the ache in his chest that came with it. He resolved to make it work. For Bean. That didn’t mean he had to be civil to the other angel that sometimes occupied the house. 

Aziraphale kept his distance, which had surprised him. Crowley had expected him to be beating down the bedroom door, demanding explanations. He left Crowley alone though.  He knew, because of Muriel, that Aziraphale kept sneaking away to Heaven too. That made him angry but he refused to dwell on the reasons why besides the fact that Heaven was hunting for what they assumed to be a pregnant angel. 

He could also tell that Aziraphale had been leaving offerings for Crowley while keeping out of sight. The kitchen island was continually cluttered with an assortment of Crowley’s pregnancy cravings. When Muriel admitted that they weren’t put there by them, he stubbornly refused to eat them. He may have accepted being at the cottage because he had no other choice and it was also keeping Muriel safe too, but that was all. 

He refused to acknowledge Aziraphale's attempts at what he assumed was a reconciliation of some sort, even if his heart ached for it. Aziraphale had made his opinions known. He wouldn’t let himself be that vulnerable again. 

Crowley made it a point to swipe the delicate pastries into the bin, pretending the loss didn’t sting. He always just made himself extremely sugary tea instead or ate the cookies Muriel brought him. Though it was getting harder to walk past the raspberry cream tarts every morning he went to make himself the tea. 

It had been in the morning on the way to the kitchen that he had finally actually saw Aziraphale again for the first time since the elevator. Of all things, he had stepped out of a closet and straight into Crowley. 

Crowley wobbled, still not used to his center of gravity, and Aziraphale gripped his shoulders quickly to steady him. 

Crowley gasped at the warmth that flooded him at Aziraphale’s touch. How— why did it feel so good? That was a very new development. 

So obviously he shoved Aziraphale back and hissed. 

“What the fuck are you doing hiding in closets?!”

“—Hiding?! I’m not hiding! This is the door to the bookshop.” Aziraphale huffed indignantly, gesturing toward the open door. 

“The bookshop? What..?” Crowley leaned over, careful not to touch Aziraphale, and gazed into the open closet. He saw that it lead to the kitchen of the flat above the shop, more than likely from the pantry’s door. “What..?”

“I connected the two. So as to not make anyone watching the bookshop suspect that you and Muriel had left.”

Crowley blinked, trying to wrap his mind around the simplicity and brilliance of it. 

“Well, that’s… yeah,” He wouldn’t admit it was clever, even if he was begrudgingly impressed. Didn’t change how he felt about the angel right then. He eased back a few inches, refusing to look at Aziraphale as he did so. 

Aziraphale noticed the retreat and gently cleared his throat. “Well, I am happy to see you are up and about. How are you feeling?”

“I’m just peachy.” Crowley answered blandly. 

“Would you care for something to eat?”

“Not from you.” 

“How about some tea?”

“Oh for the love of—! Stop being so nice to me!”Crowley snapped and practically sparked as he pinned Aziraphale to the spot with angry, glowing yellow eyes.

“Crowley, wait—“

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Of course— I’ll give you your space.”

“NO! No, you— you absolute idiot! You don’t get to play the bumbling, kind angel now!” Crowley squared his shoulders a clenched his fists. He was done with dancing around this. “You— in the elevator you sounded like Heaven! More than you ever have. You were just like what Gabriel used to be like. Like the Metatron, just all of those other stuffy bastards up in Heaven! What would they think of the baby? What would they do to Bean? What are they planning to do? An angel and a demon having a kid I’m sure is not something they are in support of.”

“I— I don’t know—“ Aziraphale did not look prepared for Crowley’s reaction at all. “I hadn’t thought—”

“Exactly, you hadn’t thought! As usual! And— what now? You’re just loitering around waiting for something? Being NICE. I don’t know what you’re trying to get at but it won’t work! The sneaking around is annoying, but this is worse! Are you aiming for an admission of guilt or an apology?! I refuse to apologize to you—“

“No! You have nothing to apologize for! Crowley, you— you did nothing wrong! I did everything wrong. I said everything wrong. I was deplorable!” Silence stretched between them before Aziraphale continued. “I hope I can prove how sorry I am, that you might have it in you to forgive me eventually.”

“I don’t forgive you.” Crowley hissed and Aziraphale nodded solemnly. 

“Then I will have to accept that.”

“I m.. may never forgive you.” Crowley’s voice didn’t come out as strong as he had hoped. Aziraphale paused before he nodded again. 

“If that’s the case I also have to accept it. That doesn’t change the fact that I will do everything in my power to protect you. To protect both of you. You deserve so much more kindness than I have shown you, Crowley. I will be rectifying that, even if you can never forgive me.”

Crowley's gaze flickered, caught off guard by Aziraphale’s words. Crowley didn't like how his pleasantly stomach flipped after hearing them. 

“Yeah, until Heaven needs you to be their fucking puppet again. Just— stop being… nice!” He snapped as he stalked away from Aziraphale and back to his room. He didn’t want to show Aziraphale how his words had affected him. 

He hadn’t realized he had forgotten his tea until a steaming cup appeared out of thin air on the nightstand next to the bed. 

Chapter Text

-Month Seven-

Week Twenty Five

Aziraphale had to have done something to him. It wasn’t in his normal behavior for the angel to cause trouble, but he had to have done something. 

He had felt lust over Aziraphale before, but it was nothing like how he was feeling now. 

He was losing his mind. 

The first night after they had talked, Crowley had a dream about Aziraphale. An intimate dream. A very specific dream involving Aziraphale’s very attractive hands. Memories of how those hands felt gripping his hips flooded his mind, causing heat to creep up his neck.

Crowley woke up in a tangle of sheets, his heart racing and his head spinning. He tried to shake it off, telling himself it was just a fluke. It was just stress manifesting, nothing more. But as the week passed, the dreams continued nightly, getting more vivid, more insistent.

He had never craved sex before Aziraphale. It was just a tool for his job, really. He had never felt the need for sexual intimacy. Again, before Aziraphale. Sure, he'd had encounters over the centuries, but mostly out of boredom, curiosity, or for a temptation. Nothing like this. Not for anyone, again… just Aziraphale. 

It was as though his mind had been rewired, tuned solely to the frequency of Aziraphale’s whereabouts when he was at the cottage. 

He also felt the least attractive he had ever felt in his entire existence. He was stuck with wearing large button downs, baggy sweaters, joggers, and of course a wide range of colorful fuzzy socks. 

Also, he loathed to admit it, he was starting to waddle. No more swaggering about like a being of temptation. No, he waddled. He waddled, groaned like an old house because he was starting to get lower back pain, and to his mortification he got stuck in a chair just that week because he wasn’t used to the shift in his center of gravity. 

The worst part was the angel had stopped trying to hide from Crowley and it felt like he was looming around every corner. He never knew when he was going to pop back down from Heaven to spend time there. He had told Muriel it was to keep up appearances that he was searching for Gabriel and Beezelbub, but Crowley didn’t understand why he couldn’t just stay on the bookshop side of the portal. 

It was bad enough to be feeling so miserable without having to deal with his body constantly reminding him that he did indeed find Aziraphale attractive. Of course he found him attractive. He wouldn’t be in the mess he was in if he didn’t. 

Aziraphale had been gone for a few days only to then drive up in the Bentley instead of coming through the closet near the kitchen. To Crowley’s surprise the Bentley was filled with his plants. 

He had to fight the urge to weep. 

He would not forgive the bastard just because he did sweet, considerate things. He absolutely would not. He did things like that for six thousand years and still dropped Crowley like a bag of rocks. He was not going to cave because he was being sweet again. 

He looked so tempting with his shirt sleeves rolled up as he hauled multiple loads of plants to the green house. He felt the familiar heat crawl up his neck as he watched Aziraphale work from the window in the kitchen. 

Oh… Had he gotten Crowley more plants? There were definitely more plants— No, he squashed that feeling before it had a chance to bloom. 

If anything it made him angry. That’s right. He was FURIOUS. That’s what he was feeling. Nothing else. 

Muriel raised an eyebrow at him when he growled and shoved the fresh batch of pastries Aziraphale had brought into the bin.

Muriel was becoming too observant for their own good too. They had caught him staring more times than he could count. 

“Crowley… you feeling ok?”

Other than wanting to rub up against that bastard like a cat in heat?

“I’m fine.” He grumbled and stalked toward the living room to see Aziraphale setting a lovely peace lily on the coffee table. 

Crowley huffed and crossed his arms defensively. 

“What's this for?” Aziraphale glanced up, his smile warm. 

“Oh, just thought it might brighten the place up a bit more, that’s all. I know how much you love having foliage in your home.”

How much he loves his foliage. Loves. LOVE. That was rich coming from the angel. The bastard. 

He just made an unintelligible sound that was a scoff and a snarl combined and, once again, stalked off to the safety of his room. 

Week Twenty Seven

 Aziraphale let his forehead drop onto the cool surface of the Elevator door as it quietly made its way back down to Earth. He felt like he’d been gone for years, but it had only been a week.

It was bad enough to deal with the Metatron repeatedly referring to Bean as the Abomination, but an entire table of archangels doing it had him nearly losing his patience and blowing his cover. But, he couldn’t risk being discovered when so much was at stake. So he held his tongue and endured their words. 

This was a child. His and Crowley’s child. Even before he had known, he couldn’t bring himself to call an innocent being an abomination. 

Though at least now he knew what the Metatron’s plan was. 

They saw the child as a threat to Heaven and the ineffable plan. He knew what Heaven did to threats. The only thing keeping Bean safe from being tampered with in the Book of Life was the fact that they hadn’t been born yet, their name was still illuminated in the book and couldn’t be erased. Yet.

Aziraphale was running out of time. He couldn’t risk being away from Heaven too long now. His mission was clear, yet the myriad emotions swirling in his heart threatened his resolve. He wanted to prove to Crowley that he was more than just a pawn of Heaven; Crowley and the baby’s safety came first though. That meant he had to play the part a bit longer. 

As the elevator neared its destination, Aziraphale whispered a silent prayer.

It had started as a nice visit from Nina and Maggie. 

Well…

Crowley did have to endure them coo’ing and flapping about over the fact that he had gotten bigger since they had last seen him. Like he needed a reminder that he couldn’t see his feet.

They made up for it by bringing him an entire dozen of assorted pastries from the coffee shop. It was a change from gorging himself on Muriel’s cookies.

“Anything suspicious happening around the shop?” Crowley asked. 

"Not really," Nina replied, sipping her coffee.

“We see Mr. Fell make a big production of occasionally passing through the book shop in case anyone is watching, but it’s been quiet since you left.” Maggie said soothingly, more than likely reading Crowley’s uneasy body language due to the subject matter. 

“That makes me nervous. Quiet isn’t Hell’s style. They are planning something.” Crowley mumbled as he picked a donut apart on a plate in his lap. 

“Aziraphale and I put wards up on Maggie and Nina’s businesses just in case. Don’t worry, Crowley.” Muriel patted his shoulder reassuringly. 

Crowley couldn’t help but worry though. He couldn’t even help with putting the wards up if he wanted to. Bean was still somehow blocking his powers. He felt useless, constantly relying on others. The uncertainty gnawed at him. As Crowley brooded, Muriel shot him a sympathetic look.

“This isn’t forever Crowley, once Bean is here I’m sure your powers will come back.”

“Hopefully. Then we will have a whole new issue. A half occult, half ethereal being that is high on Heaven and Hell’s radar. Each side has plans for this kid.”

“That’s why they are going to be safe with their parents and us.” Maggie said brightly. 

Crowley let out a long sigh. The parents, huh? It looked like he was going to have to deal with Aziraphale in some capacity for the foreseeable future. 

Their history was complicated at best, and the recent events made their interactions almost volatile. On Crowley’s side at least. Aziraphale, with his relentless optimism and infuriatingly calm demeanor, seemed less affected by Crowley constantly snubbing him. It was his only defense though. 

Being near Aziraphale always stirred tumultuous emotions within him. Being away from him he had started to notice was also not ideal. He was so confused. All the conflicting feelings were making him anxious. 

Bean's arrival would bring complexities, but deep down, Crowley couldn't deny a faint spark of anticipation.

He wondered if this was how humans felt while pregnant, a blend of fear and excitement wrapped in uncertainty.

An itch under his skin made him keenly aware that Aziraphale had just returned from Heaven. 

His mood immediately soured. 

“Nina, Maggie, it’s been great but I need some fresh air.” He snapped and stormed through the front door. He marched straight to the Bentley and the car door swung open for him like a friend opening their arms for a hug. 

Aziraphale knew Crowley was being too stubborn to come back into the house for the keys to the Bentley. 

Muriel, Maggie and Nina had left through the door to the bookshop only about an hour before after Aziraphale repeatedly assured Muriel he would watch over Crowley. This left Aziraphale to stand in the front window of the cottage looking out into the drizzle. He just watched the Bentley where Crowley sat in the driver seat. 

What was he doing?

“Stubborn…” He said and sighed.  He might as well check on him and deal with the backlash if everything was fine. Aziraphale took a deep breath, straightened his coat, and made his way to the front door to step outside.

It was a chilly evening. He was honestly surprised with how much Crowley had been complaining about the winter temperatures that he would have spent so long in the Bentley sulking. The closer he got though he could hear Crowley trying to talk over talk music from inside the car. 

“—shuddup you hunk of—“

🎵 Love of my life~ you huuurt me..

Aziraphale stepped up to the driver’s side door and gently tapped on the glass.

The music and Crowley’s loud complaints stopped instantly. The window lowered and by the demon’s snarl it was obvious it was the Bentley’s doing, not his. 

“Crowley… were you arguing with the Bentley?”

“No.” He snapped and crossed his arms with a pout. It was quite endearing and Aziraphale had to bite the inside of his cheek to not smile. 

“Why don’t you come inside? I’m sure you’re cold, there is just so much the Bentley’s heater can do against this chill. Especially without keys.” Crowley mumbled something that Aziraphale didn’t catch. “What was that?”

“I said—!” Crowley said through his teeth. “— I. Am. Stuck.”

“Stuck..?” Aziraphale stepped back as the door to the car slowly opened. Crowley groaned and cursed under his breath. Apparently Crowley also hadn’t been the one to open the door. 

“The seats are too low for me to get out on my own. I forgot my phone in the house. So this blasted car has been torturing me with—“ The music started up again, interrupting Crowley. 

🎵When I'm bleeding deep inside— 

“Oh fuck this!” Crowley gripped the door frame and started struggling out of the car. 

🎵Ooh, is it just my sickly pride?—

“Crowley, wait! Let me help you!” Crowley hissed and swatted at Aziraphale to keep him at bay. 

“Don’t! Don’t touch me!” He gave himself a valiant heave and he made it to his feet, but he winced and dropped his hand to his lower back as he teetered a bit. 

🎵Even now, the feeling seems to steal away—

“Did you hurt—“

“No—maybe— fuck! I need to get away from this fucking car.” Crowley bristled and limped his way up the walk way to the front door. 

🎵Though I'm crying—

The music quieted as Aziraphale hurriedly followed Crowley into the cottage. It hadn’t taken much detective work to know where Crowley went when he could hear loud bangs and crashes before he even entered the room. 

“I can’t even miracle up hot water for someone’s sake!” Crowley slammed the kettle down in the stove and started trying to turn the burner on. 

“Crowley, let me help.”

“No! You have done enough!” He twisted his body to yell at Aziraphale but winced again and pushed his palm into his lower back, his face scrunched up in pain. 

Aziraphale's heart ached watching him struggle, but he stayed quiet as he walked up to stand right behind Crowley. He moved the demon’s hand out of the way and replaced it with his own. 

“Don’t touch—!!! Ah~” Crowley gripped the counter as his knees almost buckled beneath him. Aziraphale could feel the tight, knotted muscle beneath his palm as he pressed his thumb into the base of Crowley’s spine. 

Aziraphale pressed and massaged the area and before he knew it Crowley had sagged backward, his back flush against Aziraphale’s chest. 

The tension eased from Crowley's back as his breathing slowed and his eyes fluttered shut. He sighed deeply as his head dropped against Aziraphale’s shoulder. He melted in Aziraphale’s hands to the extent that Aziraphale had to snake his arm around Crowley’s chest to keep him from sliding to the floor. 

Crowley moaned and arched a little when Aziraphale found just the right spot, right above the pelvis, and applied more pressure.

Oh Lord, Aziraphale thought. When had this become so… sensual? He had meant only to soothe Crowley, not stir something deeper. Yet, as Crowley leaned into him with another contented sigh, Aziraphale couldn't deny the undeniable, familiar heat spreading through his own body. His fingers lingered, tracing invisible patterns over Crowley's skin, feeling the softness and warmth underneath. 

Before he knew what he was doing he brushed his lips against the column on Crowley’s long pale throat. Crowley shivered at the touch, a faint sound escaping his parted lips.

A fire seemed to ignite in his core, spreading warmth through every nerve ending.

His breath hitched, breaking the silence with a tremulous exhale against Crowley’s skin. "Don’t stop," Crowley whispered, his voice was slurred with desire that sent shivers down Aziraphale's spine.

Aziraphale paused, caught in the intensity of Crowley's pleading voice.

“Crowley…” Aziraphale was surprised by how rough his voice was, but he continued to whisper against the shell of Crowley’s ear. “What do you want?”

“Don’t.. don’t kiss me.”

“Ok.. what else?” Crowley panted as he pushed himself more into Aziraphale’s touch. 

“Stop being gentle. I can’t stand it. Don’t be nice.”

Aziraphale brushed his hand across Crowley’s hip and up to splay it across Crowley’s swollen abdomen. 

They both froze when Aziraphale felt something flutter under Crowley’s skin. The world momentarily fell away as Aziraphale absorbed the magnitude of what was beneath his hand. 

“I can’t give you that.” Aziraphale untangled himself from Crowley, but his hand lingered on Crowley’s stomach. “I refuse to be so careless with you again. You deserve nothing but kindness from me. It’s either I’m gentle with you or nothing at all.” Crowley turned to look at the angel, frustration shadowing his eyes. 

“What the fuck?! I don’t need flowery bullshit. I just need release or I am going to go nuts.”

“I will help you with what ever you need. But, if you want… that.. from me, well… I will not agree to anything unless it is treating you with the utmost care.”

Crowley gaped at him in disbelief. 

A loud clearing of someone’s throat had them jumping apart. 

“Am I interrupting something?” Muriel asked as they stood in the doorway, arching an eyebrow. Crowley quickly straightened his shirt and tried to appear nonchalant.

“Apparently not,” Crowley mumbled, casting a glance at Aziraphale before escaping the kitchen without his normal loud complaints. Muriel watched him go, then turned to Aziraphale with a questioning look.

“What was that?” Their voice was accusing. Aziraphale glanced at the spot where Crowley had stood moments before.

“N-Nothing.” He cleared his throat and looked away. “…nothing at all.”

Chapter Text

-Month Eight-

Week Thirty 

Crowley was in pain, Aziraphale could tell. His face was drawn, eyes were hidden behind his glasses more often than not since the day in the kitchen. That was if he ever left his room. When Aziraphale saw him in passing he tried to engage with him, offering tea and conversation. Crowley's energy was elsewhere though, wound tight beneath glimmers of irritation. He would just glare at the angel until he stopped talking. 

Muriel looked worried every time they left the demon’s room. They finally caved and told Aziraphale that Crowley was having trouble sleeping, even short naps, because he was so uncomfortable. 

His demon was exhausted and struggling, and it was destroying him to watch. 

Aziraphale wanted desperately to help. He tentatively approached Crowley's door multiple times, hesitating for a moment before retreating again. 

Finally, he gathered his courage one evening. He had convinced Muriel to let him care for Crowley that night and for them to stay in the bookshop flat till morning. After they lectured him on not making the situation worse, and to be on his best behavior, they agreed. He felt Muriel was desperate for Crowley to find some comfort, and in their desperation, they reluctantly trusted Aziraphale with that responsibility. 

After Muriel set Crowley up in a hot bath and they gave Aziraphale one more look of warning, they left for the bookshop. That left Aziraphale to pace and worry, debating how best to approach the situation. 

Stopping outside the door with the intent to not lose his nerve. He clutched a small pastry box in his hand hoping that it may smooth the way. Taking a deep breath, he knocked softly, the sound barely audible in the quiet corridor. 

Bracing himself he opened the bedroom door and peeked inside. The room was dimly lit, with the faint scent of lavender lingering in the air.

Muriel had made the bed and lit candles, but Crowley was not in bed. The telltale sound of tinkling water from the bathroom caught Aziraphale's attention. He was apparently still in the tub. 

Aziraphale hesitated at the threshold for a moment before he crept into the room toward the bathroom door, setting the pastry box on the bedside table as he passed. Warm, humid, lavender scented air leaked from the crack in the door and once again Aziraphale found himself hesitating. Gathering his courage once more he knocked. 

"Muriel, stop fussing. I told you I’m fine.” Came Crowley's hoarse voice. He sounded so tired and defeated that Aziraphale’s heart ached. Ignoring the warning, Aziraphale slowly opened the bathroom door.

“It’s me, actually.” There was a pause, and Aziraphale worried Crowley would start yelling, but he was greeted by a long, tired sigh instead. 

“Why do you always decide to come find me when I’m in a… situation.” Crowley mumbled and Aziraphale pushed the door open just a little more to hear him better. 

“Situation?”

“I’m stuck, er.. more I am unable to get out. I was trying to reason with Bean to help so I didn’t have to call Muriel. They made me keep my phone close by just incase but… I had made such a stink about not needing help to get out of the tub… but now?” He sighed and Aziraphale watched as Crowley dropped his temple to rest on the lip of the large claw foot tub. 

Aziraphale looked around, taking in the scene. The tub was filled to the brim, and for some reason filled with rubber ducks. 

“The ducks…?”

“Bean. Apparently that is how they decided they were helping. Hand rails would have been preferred, but at least the ducks were funny.” 

“Crowley… I know you may not see it as ideal, but I could help?”

“I am too miserable to argue at this point. Just… help me out.” He murmured as he pushed his wet curls out of his face. 

Aziraphale stepped inside the bathroom and rolled up his sleeves, carefully maneuvering around, fussing with the precariously perched towels and bottles around the tub. 

“Do you have a—“ A black, fluffy robe popped into Aziraphale’s hands before he could even finish. “Oh! Well, um… thank you… Bean?”

“Yeah, not me. They have a habit of doing that.” Crowley grumbled as he tried to sit up in the tub. 

“Here, let me help you, my dear.” Crowley shot Aziraphale a perturbed look but didn’t tell him not to be nice. It was an improvement at least. 

With Aziraphale's steadying grip, Crowley managed to rise awkwardly until he was on his feet. Quickly to preserve the demon’s modesty he helped him into the robe and carefully out of the tub. 

The floor was slippery with water, but Aziraphale stayed firm, ensuring Crowley didn't falter as he escorted him to the bedroom. 

Crowley groaned, his voice low, as Aziraphale eased him down onto the bed gently. 

“You don’t— I told you before you don’t have to treat me like glass. I’m not some precious trinket you have to be delicate with. I’m just a bit achy is all.” Crowley huffed. 

“You are precious to me, so I will treat you as such.”

Crowley blinked up at Aziraphale, his lips parted in shock, then he quickly looked away. Aziraphale knew he wasn't used to such undiluted affection and care, and it made him feel like he had failed Crowley in so many ways over the years. 

“I brought you something.” He picked up the pastry box and gently set it in Crowley’s lap. The demon looked conflicted before he carefully opened the box.

He groaned as he pulled the raspberry cream tart out of the packaging and stared at it longingly. 

“You aren’t playing fair. You’re kicking me when I’m down, Supreme Archangel.” Crowley had almost sounded amused as he glared at the pastry. He caved almost immediately, taking a bite so big it puffed out his cheeks. 

Aziraphale tried to hide his smile as Crowley shoved the whole pastry into his mouth and sighed through his nose. 

“You resisted valiantly. I am impressed, but right now you need anything that will bring you comfort.” Aziraphale murmured, smoothing a stray lock of wet hair away from Crowley's forehead. Crowley stared at him as he swallowed the last of the tart. “Rest now. Let me get a book and I’ll read to you till you fall asleep.”

Before Aziraphale could get too far, Crowley grabbed his wrist. Their eyes met and held, though Crowley looked more flushed every moment that passed. 

“You.. I—er… nng.. you can be gentle. With me, I mean. I am ok with that.”

It took a moment for it to sink in what Crowley meant. Aziraphale's heart stuttered, surprised by Crowley's unexpected vulnerability and he nodded softly.

“Alright.”

When Aziraphale said he would only be gentle, Crowley hadn’t expected for him to treat him with such care. It was both comforting and alarming, like discovering warmth in a place long thought cold. Crowley found himself drifting, lulled by the tender touches and soft murmurs only someone like Aziraphale could offer him. 

He thought that Aziraphale would be also seeking out his own pleasure, but it wasn’t the case. Instead, Aziraphale focused solely on Crowley, attending to him with tender devotion.

He respected Crowley’s rules. He didn’t kiss him, on his mouth at least. He peeled back the blankets and Crowley’s robe slowly, kissing and worshiping every inch of skin it revealed as he did so.

A breathless gasp escaped Crowley's lips. He was shuddering with need before Aziraphale slid a hand down to place his palm against his aching entrance. 

“I still—Hng— I still don’t forgive you..” It came out as a whine, but the angel didn’t stop his ministrations as he answered. 

“This isn’t to gain your forgiveness, my dear. Just let  me take care of you.” Then the bastard took one of Crowley’s nipples into his mouth causing him to buck up into the hand that was palming him. 

He could feel Aziraphale smile as he kissed his way down his swollen belly. Crowley’s hands tugged at the sheets beneath him in anticipation when he felt Aziraphale’s breath ghost against his mound. His whole body throbbed with want.

“Easy, darling. I have you.”

Crowley’s sharp retort came out as a gasp followed by a stream of curses when Aziraphale sealed his mouth onto him. 

“Ohfuckinghell—!!!” He rasped when he felt the first of Aziraphale’s beautiful, glorious fingers slide into him accompanied by the steady lapping of the angel’s tongue against his clit. 

He felt like he was going to combust. He wanted Aziraphale to fuck him. To leave bruises and to use him for his own pleasure. It would be easier to process than how… loving he was being. The care the angel was showing him was too much. Aziraphale was being so tender that Crowley couldn’t hold back the emotions brimming in him. 

Aziraphale’s hand slid up Crowley’s thigh, and how soft the touch was is what finally broke Crowley. Tears slipped from his eyes and he fisted his hands in Aziraphale’s hair as his peak steadily built inside him. 

He loved Aziraphale. He loved him so much it almost felt like it was too much to contain. He felt weak against what Aziraphale meant to him. He didn’t want a future without him in it. He wanted him. He needed his mouth on his, to feel his skin against his own—

Please. Please, he wanted to say. He didn’t know what he wanted to beg Aziraphale for. For more? For less? He didn’t know. 

“A-..Angel—!..” Crowley gasped and arched as his orgasm finally crested. Aziraphale slowed his ministrations and soothed Crowley as his heart rate slowly started to return to normal. He felt emotionally flayed open, every tender touch making it impossible to put up any barriers against his feelings for the angel. 

He hadn’t realized he was still crying until Aziraphale cupped his face in his hands and wiped away Crowley’s tears with his thumbs. 

“Don’t cry, my darling.” Crowley raised his eyes to Aziraphale and held his gaze. He didn’t want him to leave again. He wanted to tell him to stay and never go back to Heaven. 

He wanted him to stay. He needed him. 

“Crowley, you must know… how much I love you.” More tears spilled out of Crowley’s eyes as he squeezed them shut.

“Angels are built to love, you don’t know how not to.”

“No, Crowley, my dear… I am in love with—“

“No you’re not! Don’t say things you don’t mean.” Crowley choked as he started to shake. He refused to look at Aziraphale as silence stretched out between them. The quiet seemed to swallow them whole, the weight of the words pressing heavily on both of their chests. He felt Aziraphale’s hands tense on his face before he moved them down to soothe Crowley’s shoulders. 

“Don’t fret yourself over this, my dear. Just… forget I said anything.” Aziraphale whispered, squeezing gently but firmly. He heard the slight tremor in the angel’s voice but he tried to ignore it, focusing instead on Aziraphale’s hands as they stroked down his arms. 

He allowed himself to be guided back against the pillows. His body felt heavy, weighed down by countless emotions battling for dominance. The room was silent again, save for the soft creak of the bed as Aziraphale made himself comfortable beside Crowley. 

“I’ll read to you until you fall asleep.”

“But— you don’t have to— I’m not—“ Aziraphale shook his head to cut him off without even looking at him. 

“Let me,” Aziraphale insisted softly, opening his book and turning the pages with hands as gentle as they were when touching Crowley, “You need your rest.”

Crowley tried to stay alert. He had been struggling to sleep for so long because of how miserable he had been.  

But, he realized he was no longer keyed up. He felt safe. Relaxed, warm, and comfortable. Save the emotions raging in his mind, his body was finally on board with the idea of sleep. 

He drifted off into a deep, peaceful sleep. Lulled by the warm timber of his angel’s voice.

Aziraphale sat on the bed next to Crowley as he sank into a deep sleep. He watched the demon’s features soften, tension melting away, and felt a wave of relief washing over him.

Until it was overcome by an intense grief. 

He had lost his chance. Crowley did not accept his feelings. He knew it was his own doing. He couldn’t expect him to keep being so patient and understanding, especially now. 

His carelessness had finally caught up with him. 

He couldn’t break down in the cottage. He couldn’t risk waking Crowley. The demon was finally resting peacefully and he would not chance disturbing that peace. 

Instead, he took a shaky breath and brushed a stray lock of hair from Crowley's face. He was so beautiful. Heartbreakingly so. 

He would accept whatever role let him have in his and the baby’s life. He would come to terms with it even if it’s just as a friend again and a protector. 

Quietly, Aziraphale rose from the bed, taking care not to make a sound. Then he noticed to golden aura faintly radiating around Crowley's sleeping form. It was as if peace and divine light were embracing him. He laid his hand softly against Crowley’s pregnant belly, feeling the gentle movement within. 

“Hello, little one.” He whispered. His eyes wet as he let out a shuddering breath. 

Aziraphale lingered there for the briefest of moments before he finally pulled his hand away and walked from the room.

Chapter Text

-Month Nine-

Dear Muriel,

By the time you find this letter I will have already returned to my post in Heaven. I am hopeful that it will only be temporary. I am afraid I must rely on your ability to protect and care for our mutual friend for just a little longer in my absence. 

When we had discussed me tending to Crowley earlier this evening I hadn’t been completely honest with you. I knew that tonight would be my last visit until my mission was complete. 

My reasons for returning to Heaven have become more pressing. I’m aware now that we are running out of time due to Bean’s upcoming arrival. 

You see, I know that the key to our safety is the Book of Life. Due to Bean’s existence there hasn’t been a safe moment to properly remove it from Heaven. The Metatron has the book under constant observation. I know that I can’t be away too long in case the perfect moment presents itself before the birth. I fear what the Metatron could do once the baby’s name is permanently printed in the book. I don’t intend to find out. 

Once I have it in my possession and we are able to secure it properly on Earth, I will come home. For good this time. 

I tell you these things because I trust you. I hope you know that you can trust me as well. 

My conduct recently has been… not the best. I can offer that I will continue to strive for forgiveness. Strive to deserve a place in Crowley’s world. To be part of Bean’s life. 

I will also make moves for the betterment of our situation, even if it means making difficult choices. Because I can assure you, leaving you all behind when Crowley is in his condition is the hardest decision of my existence. 

If I am to fail in this mission, please keep yourself and them safe for as long as you can. 

Keep this information to yourself for now. Do not tell Crowley, he is in no condition to have to also worry about this. If all goes well then I hope to explain this all to him myself. 

As an additional precaution, please burn this letter. 

Your friend,

-Aziraphale

Week Thirty Five

Muriel had read the letter multiple times as they paced the halls of the cottage. 

What Aziraphale was planning was extremely dangerous. If he was able to pull it off and they kept the book out of Hell’s and Heaven’s hands? It would mean that they would be completely safe. That Earth would be safe from being the battle ground for future ethereal and occult wars. It was an extreme bargaining chip in their favor. It was so risky though. Also, for Aziraphale to be doing it alone? Even more so. 

He had been planning this before Bean even existed. Muriel’s chest ached for how lonely it must have been. That was a feeling they knew well from their time in Heaven. 

What was more pressing was the sudden pull they felt just that morning. They were being summoned back to Heaven. They knew it wasn’t Aziraphale doing the call, there was no way he would chance Crowley being alone. Muriel could possibly come up with excuses and push the summons back. Claim to be on official business for the Supreme Archangel that kept them away, but that may throw more suspicion onto Aziraphale and his already difficult mission. 

Muriel knew that they needed to help Aziraphale in some way, even if it was to keep up with the act they were loyal to Heaven. But, they couldn’t risk leaving Crowley alone for too long. Crowley was in a fragile state, he was nearing his last weeks of pregnancy and who knew what to expect. He honestly could go into labor any moment with how far along he was. Muriel was as prepared to be his midwife as much as they could be. The problem was that no matter how much they had already traumatized themself with the whole natural birthing process and felt confident in their abilities with delivering a human baby, Crowley was not a human carrying a human child. 

They didn’t know what to expect so they were apprehensive about leaving. 

Crowley had slept two weeks after Aziraphale had left, but to Muriel’s surprise he had immediately asked where Aziraphale was when he woke up. 

They had respected Aziraphale’s request, but telling Crowley that the Supreme Archangel had returned to Heaven for the foreseeable future had obviously crushed him. Muriel could feel his grief as he visibly seemed to dim. 

Muriel peeked through the doors to the greenhouse where Crowley started to spend most of his time when he wasn’t curled up in bed, staring out the window. He sat among the oversized flora, his serpentine eyes scanning the leafy refuge with an air of profound melancholy. 

The demon quietly haunted the cottage, just existing as the weeks passed and his pregnancy progressed. Muriel knew he was always annoyed when Aziraphale was close by because of their recent history. Though, that was nothing compared to how Crowley’s mood had taken a nosedive since he had realized Aziraphale was not coming back. 

The enormity of the situation pressed heavily on Muriel's shoulders. As they paced, Muriel clutched the letter tightly to their chest. Fear and determination mingled in every breath as they weighed the risks. 

Aziraphale had said to destroy the letter, but they couldn’t. Not yet anyway. The words it held were too vital, woven with layers of secrets and hopes written by Aziraphale’s hand. Crowley may need to see it as proof that the Supreme Archangel cared if things didn’t go according to Aziraphale’s plan. 

Muriel knew that they had to take the risk. Their future guaranteed safety depended on it. 

With a deep breath, Muriel resolved to prepare for joining Aziraphale in Heaven. 

Crowley shuffled through the green house in a slow circle to try and ease the ache in his lower back. He felt like a hamster on a wheel. The motley collection of plants looked on silently, every now and then they leaned to brush his shoulders with their leaves to try and ease his discomfort.

Each day felt bled into the next. Everything felt gray, stale, stagnant.

The only way he measured time passing was the fact he felt like he was steadily growing bigger than a house. Bean was doing well, so at least he had that. 

With that thought he let his hand smooth over his belly as he made another slow lap. 

He was so tired of grieving the loss of Aziraphale. He was so tired of dealing with his emotions as if they were a yo-yo. He dared not voice his disappointment upon waking up to find the angel had left. Actually left for good. Back to Heaven where he belonged. He missed the vibrancy that Aziraphale brought into his life. He didn’t want to forgive the angel, but he didn’t want to lose him either. That was forever his weakness. Crowley cursed under his breath, feeling the burden of both his emotions and his growing body.

He needed to be able to just let Aziraphale go without going through such a lengthy, and self destructive mourning process. 

History repeated itself. He showed any vulnerability and the next thing he knew the angel was disappearing. He wouldn’t put himself in that situation ever again. He wasn’t the only one at stake anymore. 

No matter what happened next, he would not let himself be consumed by the it. Bean required his full attention, and that was a responsibility Crowley was determined to uphold.

“Crowley..?” A soft, hesitant voice called from the doorway, breaking him from his reverie. He turned to see Muriel apprehensively waiting at the entrance.

“You look like you accidentally broke my favorite tea cup. What’s wrong?” Crowley said and Muriel let out a nervous chuckle.

“Well, I’d much rather that be the case.” Muriel's brow furrowed as they shifted from foot to foot.

“That isn’t ominous or anything. Muriel, what is it?” Crowley watched Muriel as they took a deep breath, hesitating for a moment before speaking.

“I’ve been summoned. By Heaven. It may be a routine check in, but I can’t risk anyone up there getting suspicious and trying to come find me. I’m going to have to go give a report.”

Crowley’s gut turned to ice as he stared at Muriel. His fingers twitched with the urge to reach for his sunglasses, but he held back.

He knew what they were saying was logical. It would be extremely suspicious if they didn’t check in when summoned. 

But, damn it, he wanted to beg them not to go. 

“Crowley?” Muriel's voice pulled Crowley back, grounding him from spiraling further. “Tell me what you are thinking. Don’t hold back.”

“You need to go, I know you do. But… fuck… I don’t want you to.”

“I don’t either. I really don’t. It scares me to think about leaving you here. But, nothing will keep me away. Earth is my home now, and I’m coming back. I’ve already texted Nina and Maggie. You won’t be alone if you need anything. If something happens and I can’t come back right away, I promise that no matter what it takes I will be here to help you through Bean’s birth.” Crowley blinked, exhaling a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

“Just… cause a little chaos while you’re up there. For me?”

“Of course.” Muriel smiled softly as they stepped forward and gently pulled Crowley into a hug. “Even if I’m not here, I’m still going to be looking out for you. You are my family.”

“Don’t— I will convince Nina to make you nothing but soy lattes from now on if you make me start blubbering.” Crowley grumbled but hugged them tight. “…but yeah, I know. What happened to me looking out for you?”

Muriel laughed softly, pulling back to meet Crowley's gaze. 

“We've been looking out for each other, haven't we? It’s what siblings do.” There was a bittersweet silence between them, then Crowley broke it when he let out a long pitiful groan. 

“That’s it! Soy lattes for-fucking-ever! Making me have to deal with all these… feelings.” Crowley rasped as he covered his eyes with his hands. “Damn it, Muriel, please be safe. You can’t trust any of those holier than thou pigeons up there. They don’t deserve you.” Muriel laughed again, patting Crowley’s arm. 

“They might not, but I can handle them,” Muriel assured with a quiet determination. “You have helped me see that I can.”

Crowley nodded, a faint smile pulling at his lips. It felt odd to smile when he hadn’t in so long. 

“Good.”

He hated Heaven. It felt cold and distant, a place devoid of warmth and genuine care. Despite its blinding light and endless choirs, Heaven had always seemed more prison than paradise to him. 

At least it did now.

He missed his bookshop. He missed the cottage. He missed Muriel. He missed the people and the gentle chaos of living on Earth. Standing there amidst the towering clouds, Aziraphale felt a pang of longing deep in his chest, a sensation that he had become accustomed to. 

He knew most of all, he missed Crowley. 

The demon hadn’t tried to contact him since he left, and he was going to respect the boundary that Crowley had set. 

He felt like a coward. All he wanted to do was throw himself on Crowley’s mercy and beg for forgiveness. For another chance, but that would be selfish. 

He needed to keep it together. Just a little longer. 

Aziraphale’s thoughts swirled as he moved to the window, gazing out at the quiet bustle that was Heaven.

He felt guilty for disappearing without discussing his plans in person with Muriel, but he knew he needed to leave before he had lost the nerve to do so. Muriel deserved better than a hasty farewell. Aziraphale clung to the hope that somehow they’d understand his motive.

It was better than he had given Crowley. That sat like a cold, hard rock in the pit of his stomach. Heaving a sigh, he tried to shake away the heaviness of his guilt.

He needed to protect him and the baby more than he needed his forgiveness.  

He could only hope his decision was the right one.

“Supreme Archangel, your presence is requested in the council chamber,” A disembodied voice echoed in his office, breaking Aziraphale’s thoughts. 

He sighed as he pulled his gaze from the view below and made his way out of his office. He was tired of meetings. Tired of the bureaucratic tight rope that was being the Supreme Archangel of Heaven. 

He thought he was dragged into meetings before, it only got worse with being a higher rank. Aziraphale straightened his coat and took another deep breath as he grew nearer to chamber, steeling his resolve for yet another tedious discourse.

The group turned and his eyes immediately locked with Muriel’s. 

“Ah, Supreme Archangel. You’re just in time.” Michael said coolly.

“For—?” Aziraphale forced a smile, inclining his head in confusion. 

“We have summoned the Earth representative for an important discussion regarding recent events on the planet,” Michael continued, a hint of annoyance in their voice. 

“Supreme Archangel Aziraphale has briefed me in depth and has charged me with the… issue of the looking out for the child—“ Muriel answered, their voice steady. 

“This is not a child, representative. This is a threat that needs to be dealt with.” Uriel interrupted. 

Aziraphale saw Muriel’s eyes turn cool but their voice gave nothing away.

“Of course, Uriel. I will be sure to report of any threats I see. Though I don’t think Gabriel and Beelzebub are on Earth.”

“We believe that the demon Crowley may be helping them. Our sources say he has disappeared. You haven’t seen him?” Aziraphale froze as his eyes darted to Muriel. They didn’t even flinch as they answered Michael. 

“I haven’t seen him in the bookshop in months, I’m afraid.” Michael nodded, not noticing how Muriel cleverly worded their reply. 

Of course they hadn’t seen Crowley in the bookshop in months. He was safely hidden away at the cottage. 

Muriel was a much better study at Crowley’s slippery word games than Aziraphale ever was. He had to bite the inside of his mouth to keep from smiling. 

“Just as a precaution, we have sent Sandalphon down to Earth the scout his last known whereabouts. Just to ensure your safety.”

Michael said it in such a way that suggested there were ulterior motives. Aziraphale's heart skipped a beat, knowing this added attention could complicate things. 

Would he be snooping around the bookshop? The way he felt Muriel tense beside him he knew they were thinking the same thing. 

“Crowley is no longer affiliated with Hell, Michael. I can tell you that Muriel is perfectly safe in the bookshop.”

“We can never be too sure with Demons. It should only take a few days. Don’t you want to keep your fellow angels safe, Supreme Archangel?” The way Michael had said it felt like they were baiting him.

Aziraphale had to clench his jaw as he nodded. The flat above the bookshop was warded from other angels besides Muriel and him. It was the only place he could do it without raising suspicion. As long as Crowley stayed in the cottage he would not be discovered. 

This was more than just an inconvenience; this was potentially disastrous. For once, he thought desperately, he hoped Crowley would just stay put.

Then the alarms of Heaven started blaring. 

Chapter Text

-Labor-

Crowley was irritable and restless. Which felt like a normal state of being for him recently. 

He'd tried everything to make himself comfortable at the cottage, yet nothing seemed to quell the persistent unease gnawing at him. He had thought about sitting in the Bentley to help soothe his nerves, but to his surprise the car was missing. Maybe it was also restless? The thought of the car going on a drive on its own was not uncommon. It had its own moods and being a temperamental creature himself, 

Crowley respected that. 

On top of the unease and the missing car, Bean was being extremely difficult. If their activity in the womb was any indication, the tiny demon-angel-hybrid-in-the-making was going to be a handful.

He had gotten used to the kicking and stretching, but they were starting to interfere with the environment around Crowley more than usual. 

Case in point, Crowley was awoken that day from his nap to a balloon popping above him. The sudden noise jolted him upright. He hadn’t been asleep long, deciding to nap immediately after Muriel had left.

That was only the first balloon. As he got up and moved around the house he began to notice more balloons, of all different colors, following him where ever he went. 

Then books started to occasionally fall off shelves and it made Crowley groan in frustration. There was no way he was going to be able to pick all the books up in his current state.

“Hey, kid, what’s the deal? Is this a temper tantrum of some sort for Muriel leaving?” He muttered toward his abdomen, gently rubbing the spot where he felt a particularly insistent jab.

The response was another kick, but this time followed by the sudden pop of another balloon right behind him. The noise made him jump and wince at the sharp pain in his back it caused. 

Crowley sighed, frustration yielding to resignation.

“Alright, alright, you are being insistent about something. What is it?” For a moment, there was silence, then another soft kick answered him and this time a book whipped around the corner and landed at his feet. 

It was just one of Muriel’s labor and delivery books. Crowley went to try to bend down with a groan to pick it up, but then a sharp pain in his abdomen caused him to gasp. 

“—fuckin—Christ—“ He pressed his hand on the side of his belly, trying to soothe the ache sharp as broken glass. 

Then another balloon slowly floated towards him, catching a stray sunbeam and casting vibrant colors on the walls.

The balloon had the brightly colored letters, “Happy Birthday!” spelling out the obvious fate approaching him more quickly than he'd acknowledged.

Then the heavy weight of reality settled onto his shoulders as he felt his water break. 

“Oh..”

“It has to be…!” Muriel tried to say to Aziraphale discreetly as the alarms blared around them. 

With the clamor intensifying, they cast a worried glance around. 

So his timeline had to be moved up. 

The alarms sounding meant something significant was happening on Earth. The only thing he could think of was Crowley going into labor. 

“Muriel, you have to—“

“No, I’m worried about him too, but I know what you’re going to do. I won’t let you do it alone.” They whispered harshly, cutting him off. Muriel had made up their mind, and that was that. As much as he wanted to argue, they didn’t have time. 

This was their only chance to retrieve the Book of Life before Bean’s existence could be erased from the book entirely. 

They hurriedly exchanged a tense look before rushing away from the council chamber unnoticed. The corridors were bustling, their passage hurried but precise, as they weaved through angelic beings occupied with figuring out what the alarms sounding meant. 

They reached the end of the hall, a towering door of glistening, celestial white. 

Aziraphale quickly pushed the door open without hesitation. 

Inside, the vast library unfolded before them, shelves reaching toward a sky-like ceiling filled with radiant constellations. In the very center was the Book of Life, pulsing softly with an otherworldly glow. Aziraphale rushed forward, knowing each second was precious.

Before he could reach the pedestal, a familiar voice of the Metatron echoed through the chamber.

“Ah, Supreme Archangel Aziraphale, I knew you’d come.”

Aziraphale halted, his eyes narrowing as he turned to face the Metatron. He was almost relieved to see it was only a projection of his face instead of the Metatron himself. Muriel anxiously gripped the back of his jacket, but stayed silent.

“What do you think you are doing?” the Metatron continued, his eyes cold yet amused.

“Just relocating the Book of Life for safe keeping.” 

“Risking the wrath of the entirety of Heaven? This is not a trivial decision, Aziraphale. Gabriel I am sure would not return the same kindness.”

So… they still didn’t know it was Crowley. 

Aziraphale swallowed hard, giving Muriel a quick look of reassurance before stepping forward, reaching through the protective barrier around it to grasp the book. 

“Well, thankfully, I am not Gabriel.” He said, feeling the solid warmth of the book in his hands. The room felt as though it took a breath, the stars in the ceiling flickering momentarily. “Let’s go, Muriel.”

With a determined nod, Muriel matched Aziraphale's pace as they made their way towards the doors only to be blocked by the Metatron’s projected face. 

“You cannot simply walk away with it, Aziraphale. That book holds the fate of countless souls. You are not thinking of the consequences," the Metatron pressed. 

“He’s trying to stall us, Aziraphale.” Muriel whispered to him, and they were right. The Metatron had to be stalling until he could summon others to stop them.

“Goodbye, Metatron.”

As he reached for the door, a blinding flash erupted, illuminating the entire room. It engulfed them both in light, momentarily rendering their surroundings nothing more than a white void. As it faded, the source became clear to be Aziraphale’s flaming sword. They stared at the sword, its ethereal glow eclipsing the Metatron’s projection. 

He had no idea who summoned it, but it had definitely not been the Metatron. After the first apocalypse he had believed the sword to be lost once again. Apparently not. 

The sword's presence silenced the room's tension. The arrival of his lost sword could be a very good or a very bad thing. The only thing he knew was that they had to move quickly.

Aziraphale handed the book to Muriel and took the sword from where it had been gently floating midair. The blade shimmered with the radiant glow of divine light, illuminating the chamber with an ethereal warmth.

“Stay behind me and protect that book, Muriel. Don’t stop till we are back on Earth.” With a resolute nod, Muriel clutched the book tightly, moving behind Aziraphale as he pushed the door open. 

Crowley had experienced pain in his very long existence. He could say he’d never been a fan. 

Labor pains were no exception. 

The contractions rippled through his body, each wave more intense than the last. 

The first one had taken him by surprise and had ended with him crushing his cellphone to practically dust in his hand as he was in the process of trying to call Nina and Maggie. 

The panic that spiked in him only until he was hit with another contraction. 

“Fuck—AH—“ Desperately, Crowley reached out for a chair to grip as the pain sucked the air from his lungs. 

He couldn’t concentrate, but he knew the contractions were close together. He wished he could remember everything Muriel had told him, but it was just a jumble of words and distractions now.

He had known he needed to get help now that the phone was not an option. He made his way to the bookshop and down the spiral staircase, bracing himself on the railing or walls when the contractions hit him. Sweat trickled down his forehead from excursion but he didn't stop.

“The worst… timing.. Bean.” He wheezed as he gripped the railing at the bottom of the staircase. 

How long had it taken him to get there? He wasn’t sure, but he just needed a moment to breathe before he continued. 

“Well well— The demon Crowley. You have been a hard creature to find.” Crowley whipped his head up to see Sandalphon standing in the threshold. He was blocking the way out, his arms crossed and face cold. He smoothly pulled out a cellphone without breaking eye contact with Crowley and spoke into it. “He is here.”

Shit. Shitshitshit. 

“S—Sandy, what a surprise. What do I owe to this displeasure?” He tried to straighten up and look as normal as possible, but he knew it was a lost cause. 

“I don’t have the patience for your irritating drabble, demon. Where are they? I can sense the abomination is not far.”

“Irritating drabble?” Crowley sputtered, twisting his lips into a mocking grin. “And here I thought I was—“

Crowley gasped and reached out to brace himself against the wall as he was hit with another contraction. 

“What are you doing? What is wrong with you?”

“—nnnothing. Nothing.” Sandalphon stared at him hard before his face went slack in realization. 

“It’s you. Not Gabriel. You’re carrying it.”

Banging on the door interrupted them and Crowley turned and rushed as quickly as he could to the back of the shop while Sandalphon was distracted. He heard the unmistakable voice of Hastur in the shop before he pushed through the door leading to the back of the shop. 

Sandalphon must have let Hastur cross the threshold. He didn’t have the time to try to figure out why the demon and angel were apparently working together.

He knew if he didn’t get somewhere to hide quickly, things would go from bad to worse. Nina and Maggie were not an option now. He couldn’t risk it. 

He would have to do it alone. As terrifying as it was, he had no other option. 

The back entrance to the bookshop was never used, but he knew it was his best chance to get away. The door was stuck from lack of use, but he shouldered it open quickly. 

He wrapped a hand protectively around his midsection and slipped into the alley.

Of course it was raining. She couldn’t make it easy, could she? 

His footsteps splashed through puddles, as he was soaked to the bone. He stopped as he noticed what was obviously a group of demons crowding around the end of the alley.

He tried to turn around to go the opposite way when another contraction brought Crowley to his knees. The pain was sharp, relentless, and he gasped, grimacing as the world swayed around him. 

He felt so helpless. He needed to find somewhere safe, somewhere they couldn't reach him.

A loud roar of an engine echoed in the alley and Crowley turned quickly as he could to see the Bentley baring down on him. Its horn honked and the back door swung open as it pulled up right next to Crowley. 

Crowley could cry. He didn’t know what tipped the car off to drive back to London, but it meant he wasn’t alone. With relief surging through him, he crawled as quickly as he could into the Bentley.

Before he could get in though he felt multiple hands grab him and pull him away from the Bentley. The demons at the end of the alley had apparently caught up to him. 

The horn started blaring and the engine revved but it couldn’t help as Crowley was dragged back into the alley and into the rain by the pack of demons. 

They laughed with delight, their grip unyielding as they pinned him to the wet ground. He opened his eyes to see Hastur and Sandalphon above him, each holding a blade. 

“Your luck's run out, Crowley," Hastur said with a raspy laugh. 

“Let's make this quick before the higher ups figure out we were looking for the wrong person.” Sandalphon sneered, leaning closer. “We are going to wipe out you and your abomination—"

Sandalphon doubled over as Crowley snarled and mule kicked him in the gut. 

“Fuck you!” Crowley hissed with a mouth full of fangs as he threw one of the demons holding him off. 

He wasn’t helpless. He wasn’t. Crowley had survived millennia in Hell, and more importantly managed to endure nine months of pregnancy. He wasn't going to be taken out by a couple of overconfident, low ranked demons in a rainy alley. 

Rain-soaked and furious, he thrashed, knocking Hastur backward. Crowley cursed as he rolled to his hands and knees, rainwater splashing around him as he crawled. 

Confetti and fireworks started exploding around him. Bean, his fierce little light was helping. He scrambled away from the chaos.

He tried to get to cover behind a stack of crates just as he heard Hastur yell behind him. Before he could get too far he felt a hand grab the back of his shirt and yank him backward. He was then flat on his back again and watching Hastur raise his demonic blade to strike. 

Crowley squeezed his eyes shut. He was out of options, but he continued to thrash. He wouldn’t give up. He’d fight until the end, but he knew this was it. 

Crowley was so scared. He had a quick thought that he wished Aziraphale was there. 

Just then, before Hastur could strike, a flash of light split the sky.

Chapter Text

Birth

Spots swam in his vision as and his ears rang. he blinked against the light, trying to clear his vision. 

What had happened? Had he been stabbed?

No, his skin prickled instead with the buzzing aftermath of sudden, celestial power surging overhead.

He blinked hard again as his vision finally cleared enough to see Aziraphal’s back, separating Crowley from Hastur and the other demons. 

The air crackled with energy as Aziraphale lifted his flaming sword, it’s heat distorting the rain around them. The sharp tang of ozone blended with petrichor as Aziraphale’s wings flared wide, blocking Crowley from view. 
 

“Crowley!” Muriel’s voice cracked in distress as they rushed to him. “Are you ok? Did they hurt you?”

“No… no, they didn’t get the chance.” Crowley wheezed as Muriel crushed him in a hug. 

“Muriel, get Crowley into the Bentley and leave.” Aziraphale said without looking back at them. 

“But… Aziraphale, what about you?” Muriel asked and Crowley felt them squeeze him tighter. 

“I’m right behind you. We have too much to protect to risk you staying here—please get him to safety." Muriel looked distressed, but nodded. They helped a very soaked, and uncooperative Crowley to his feet and toward the Bentley. The door immediately swung open again eagerly to receive them, it’s leather back seat already expanded to make room for Muriel and Crowley. 

“A— Aziraphale! No!” Crowley pulled against Muriel’s hold before Aziraphale turned his head and made eye contact with him. Pleading silently for Crowley to trust him, even as rain streamed down his face. He quickly stepped back toward Crowley and Muriel, holding his sword steady in case the other demons circling warily nearby decided to take the opening. 

“For once, Darling, let me be the one to save you.” He gaped at the angel as Aziraphale reached out and cupped his cheek. His touch was warm despite the chill of the rain still pouring around them. 

“Vavoom…”Aziraphale whispered so softly that only Crowley could hear.  With that Aziraphale pulled his hand away and turned his back to Crowley and Muriel again. The shock of it was enough for Muriel to get Crowley into the car with out a fight. The door slammed shut and the engine roared as the car sped off before he could respond. 

“Crowley, how far apart have your contractions been?”

“Wha… what?” He stared at Muriel blankly, his mind still focused on the knowledge they left Aziraphale in an alley full of pissed off demons. Alone. 

“Your contractions. How far apart—“ Crowley stared at Muriel, realization dawning as fresh pain shot through him, making words momentarily impossible. He gasped as the next wave hit him so swiftly it left him shaking, gripping the back seat in panic as the pain radiated through him, worse than before.  

“I don’t know— close—“ He grit through his teeth as the car took a particularly sharp turn. “Very close—“

Oh now the car would speed. 

Rain hammered the windshield in sheets as Muriel leaned over the backseat to stare out the rear window. Suddenly, the Bentley lurched sideways as if dodging a pedestrian, Muriel was clutching the seatback to keep steady. 

“They aren’t following us I don’t think. It would be ideal for you to give birth in the cottage and with how fast we are going we will be there soon. Though whether we make it before you give birth depends entirely on how quickly Bean wants to get here.”

“Of course they aren’t following us! We literally left the Supreme Archangel on a silver platter for them!” Crowley hissed as he tried to breathe through the pain on the contraction. He let his head fall back heavily against the seat. 

He really didn’t want to give birth in the Bentley. 

Aziraphale was not a violent being. He had been part of the great war, and he did know how to use the weapon that had been gifted to him by God. He could admit he had been a soldier. He had the capacity for violence, it just was not his first choice in most situations. 

Until someone threatened to kill the love of his life who also happened to be carrying their child. 

In that moment, he felt every cell in his celestial form tense. Grace abandoned him like a fleeing flock; all that remained was a cold, hard rage pulsing under his skin, sharpening his senses to every threat around him as he raised the blade.

Most of the demons who had been part of Hastur and Sandalphon’s plan to kill Crowley had  turned and fled when Aziraphale had arrived. He was still the Supreme Archangel of Heaven after all. That title had not been stripped from him, so he did not hold back from showing just how violent he could be. 

Sandalphon had fled also. He had taken one look at Aziraphale’s face when the Bentley sped away and sprinted toward the elevator without a backward glance. He had abandoned his allies without hesitation or apparent remorse.  

The few remaining demons were dispatched easily enough as he hunted down the one demon in particular who was responsible. 

Hastur. If he hadn’t arrived in time, Hastur would have killed  both Crowley and Bean. Aziraphale had turned to face him only then to realized the coward had fled just like Sandalphon. More than likely toward the elevator also. 

Aziraphale rushed down the alley,  blade still raised. 

He knew that Heaven and Hell would know soon that Crowley was the one they had been looking for, there was no stopping that anymore. He just needed to buy time for them to put proper protections in place. 

Hastur and Sandalphon were immediate threats. Sandalphon got away, he couldn’t let Hastur do the same. 

Aziraphale rounded the corner just in time to see another demon, not Hastur, frantically hitting the elevator’s button. 

Aziraphale advanced with his sword drawn as the demon spun around, trembling in terror. 

“Aziraphale! Behind you!” He heard Nina scream through the rain and he turned just in time for Hastur to plunge his dagger into the Angel’s shoulder. Aziraphale staggered back, pain blooming hot through his arm as his grip on the sword almost faltering.  

“Fuck— I was aiming for your heart.” Hastur growled but quickly left the wounded Aziraphale to rush toward the now open doors of the elevator. 

Golden blood pouring down his white sleeve, Aziraphale pressed his hand against the wound as Hastur vanished inside, the doors sliding shut. 

Damn it, he had been to focused on the demon at the elevator. He had left himself open. If Nina hadn't called out, Hastur would've ended him right there. 

Aziraphale slumped against the wet bricks. He tried to grip the blade sticking out of his shoulder but every time he touched it he felt like his hand was on fire. 

The dagger was demonic. That was bad. 

“Mr. Aziraphale! Oh my God—! We have to get you inside.” Maggie rushed through the rain to help Aziraphale, Nina right behind her. 

“We have to get to the— the Cottage. Muriel and Crowley will be there soon. Crowley is in labor.” Aziraphale rasped out as they helped him toward the book shop. 

“Well, you were stabbed! Maybe we focus on this first?!” Nina went to touch the hilt of the dagger sticking out of his shoulder and Aziraphale jerked away, gritting his teeth. 

“It’s demonic! Don’t touch it! It could kill you.” Startled, Maggie tore off her jacket, carefully wrapping it tightly around the hilt, trying desperately to staunch the golden flow as they half-dragged the angel through the bookshop and up the winding stairs to the flat above. 

“It’s literally in you Mr. Aziraphale— what is it going to do to you if we don’t pull it out?!” They sat him down at the small kitchen table as Nina started to frantically look for some sort of first aid. He let his sword go out and clatter to the floor as he sunk back into the chair. 

“Crowley is priority at the moment. I have to be there when he gets there. I will figure it out after he gives birth—“

“No. Not after. It’s already been too long. Can a demon pull it out?” Nina asked. He knew what she was hinting at. 

Crowley was a demon. 

Something in him snapped at the thought of asking him while he was in agony himself, needing help so desperately right then that Aziraphale's heart nearly broke. He needed Aziraphale to be there for him, to not be a burden on Crowley like he had been in the past. But when he tried to stand, his knees buckled, pain flashing through his body as more golden blood pooled on the cracked tiles below him. 

To Maggie and Nina’s absolute horror, Aziraphale’s eyes flashed as he grabbed the blade and ripped it out of his shoulder himself. 

The pain made his vision white out for a moment before he leaned across the table as he desperately tried to catch his breath. Nina touched his back, steadying him, while Maggie pressed a towel to the wound, her hands shaking.  

“M-Mr. Aziraphale?” Maggie prompted but he shook his head to try to clear it. 

“That’s done…” Aziraphale pushed himself shakily to his feet. “Please help me get to the Cottage.”

“We need to at least stop you from bleeding, Aziraphal! You’re no use to Crowley if you’re unconscious or dead.” 

Aziraphale looked down at his sword and let a long breath out through his teeth. 

“Alright. I have an idea, but I’d rather not do it here.” He carefully reached down and picked his sword back up. 

Nina nodded, her hands steady as she braced Aziraphale, exchanging a worried look with Maggie as they maneuvered him toward the door leading to the Cottage.  

He didn’t give birth in the Bentley, thankfully. 

He was pretty sure he was going to give birth on the path leading to the cottage though. 

“Crowley, I’m sorry, but we are so close and I want to get you dry and warm as soon as possible.” Muriel urged him gently, supporting his arm as they helped him toward the cottage. 

“I know—!!!” Crowley groaned as he struggled not to drop to his knees in pain. He took a few forced, deep breaths before he started to walk again. Wind whipped rain sideways, turning the path into a shallow, muddy river. 

“Almost there, Crowley.” Lightning flickered over the trees, throwing Muriel’s nervous face into sharp relief. 

The door of the cottage flew open as Maggie rushed out to help. 

“Mr. Crowley! Oh thank goodness.” She pulled them both inside as she continued. “We’ve been setting everything up for you like you had planned, we were so worried when we heard you had to take Mr. Crowley’s car instead of coming through the flat. I had been worried you’d been injured also—“

“Injured also? Who else is hurt?” Crowley perked up at that and looked at Maggie. Muriel whipped their head to Maggie too, searching for any sign of distress on Maggie’s face. 

“Oh… well… uh…” But she only shook her head, waving them toward the bedroom. “Let’s get you dry and off your feet first.“

“No, is Aziraphale—?!”

“I’m here..” Aziraphale said softly as he walked into the hall to greet them. At the sight of him Crowley felt himself relax a little. He was dressed in slacks and a button down like he had started to wear when he spent more time at the cottage. “I was just starting a fire so that we can make it cozy. Let’s make you as comfortable as possible, shall we?” 

Crowley stared at Aziraphale for a moment. Something was off. He seemed so subdued despite just hours before standing between Crowley and the demons trying to kill him. Though, he couldn’t quite put his finger on what was wrong. 

In any case he couldn’t focus on anything at that moment besides the fact he was in active labor. He nodded to Aziraphale and let Muriel and Maggie maneuver him toward the bedroom. 

Muriel had him propped up in bed with an irresponsible amount of pillows in no time. They flitted around the room preparing everything they may need as they continued to utter soothing words to Crowley as contractions intensified steadily. 

Eventually, a sharp contraction made him gasp loudly, clutching at the nearest pillow. Instead he felt a hand take his and squeeze. Crowley looked up to see that Aziraphale took up residence at his side. He held his hand to support him through the pain, and Crowley didn’t have it in him to be angry. 

He was just there. Aziraphale quietly held his hand and didn’t even complain when Crowley squeezed too tight. 

It made him feel safe. He didn’t know how much time passed like that before Crowley winced, knuckles white, as pain sharpened abruptly and he felt pressure. Panic surged as he realized something new was happening, far more urgent. He looked to Muriel for reassurance and relaxed a little when they didn’t look worried. 

Muriel patted his knee when they informed him it was time to push. With a trembling breath, Crowley nodded, bracing himself for what would come next. 

Maggie darted forward with towels for Muriel and to help them as Nina rushed over to take Crowley’s other hand. 

Crowley consciously made an effort to squeeze Aziraphale’s hand with his inhuman strength and not Nina’s human hand. 

Still, Muriel’s firm voice broke through the tension, urging him to start pushing right away as another contraction crashed over him.  

It went quickly after that. Each push came faster, the pain intense but focused. The lights flickered as the storm outside raged. 

The pain peaked but then eased just as the room filled with new, frantic noises as the baby's cry filled the room. 

“Bean! Bean is here!” Muriel cheered, their voice filled with emotion as they lifted them to lay on Crowley’s chest. 

Crowley stared in shock at the small squirming baby wriggling against his chest. He ran his hand down the baby's tiny arm, feeling warmth radiate from the delicate newborn, trying to process the overwhelming relief. 

“You’re here… you’re really here.” Crowley choked out a wet laugh as he felt their bare back by their shoulder blades, feeling the small bumps there. “And you have wings.” 

He looked at Aziraphale who was already gazing at their child with tears in his eyes, awe radiating from every line of his face as though he had never seen such a miracle before. For a moment, none of them moved, the newborn just settling down on Crowley’s chest. Their eyes met as Aziraphale softly exhaled, fingers shaking while reaching to gently touch the baby’s head. 

Something flickered between them as the storm outside began to ease, fragile peace settling over the crowded room.  

Then Aziraphale’s eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed to the floor. 

Chapter Text

He named them Beau. Because they were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

Crowley walked with purpose through the outskirts of Hell. Every demon he encountered immediately turned and ran away just at the sight of him. 

Good. 

He wasn’t nervous like he was last time, his resolve steadied by the weight of what he planned to do. He had dressed the part, of course. He was a vision in black;  gold tipped black boots gleaming, jacket sharp-edged, sunglasses glinting ominously under the broken lights.

Maybe he had gone a little over board with the full slimfit black suit, but it suited his mood of righteous defiance toward Hell. He was also very much enjoying being back to his willowy, serpentine self. He wanted to be intimidating. So he dressed accordingly. He was vain, but it suited his purpose. 

He had waited six months. Six months. Six months after the birth of his child before he was fed up with Hell and Heaven trying to test the defenses he and Muriel had put in place. 

They obviously had no idea who they were messing with. 

Aziraphale still hadn’t regained consciousness since he collapsed after Beau’s birth. Being asleep for months was no big deal for Crowley, but not for Aziraphale. 

He hadn’t known during his labor that Aziraphale was struggling. That, according to Nina and Maggie, he had cauterized his stab wound with his own flaming sword. 

That may have been what saved his life. It had purified the demonic wound— but not before it had done some damage.

Those first weeks they all believed that they would check on the angel and he’d just be gone. It had been terrifying. Until, he slowly started to improve. Now he just looked like he was sleeping. He regained some color and didn’t have the deathly gray hue he had those first weeks. 

He was going to make it. He would wake up, eventually… hopefully.

All because he stayed behind to protect them when he shouldn’t have. He almost went somewhere again to a place Crowley couldn’t follow. 

Crowley didn’t know what he was going to do when the angel did wake up. 

His thoughts were interrupted by Shax shrieking as soon as he entered the bull pen, sending a ripple of panic through the surrounding demons as they scrambled up the stairs to sit in the throne in the center of the room. 

“You’re not welcomed here, trai—“

“Shut up, Shax. I am doing the talking then I’m leaving.”

“I am Lord Shax—“ Crowley took the stairs two at a time and pulled Aziraphale’s flaming sword from a sheath strapped to his back. It ignited just as he pointed it only inches from Shax’s face. 

“I said shut up. You are only alive because you will be the messenger. Got it?” Shax barely nodded and Crowley let the swords flames extinguish as he resheathed the blade smoothly. 

“Alright. From this day forward I will be one of two representatives of Earth. To be fair it will be me, a demon of Hell and Muriel, an angel of Heaven. The two of us, and no one else, will be in charge of the well being of Earth. Nothing happens on the surface without our approval. Earth will no longer be subject to demon incursions, harassment, or plagues at your behest from now on. All incidents will have to run through the representatives of Earth, the Angel Muriel and myself. That also includes trying to kidnap or kill my child.”

“What gives you the right to dictate terms to us, Crowley?!” Shax barked, their trembling voice belying their attempt at bravado. “Give us the spawn and we will consider your terms.”

“I say just kill it and be done with it. Crowley has always just been talk.” Hastur sneered as he stood next to where Shax sat. 

Crowley felt sparks crackle around his hands as he fought to keep himself calm. He had a plan and he needed to stick to it. If he killed Hastur with Aziraphale’s sword it would be satisfying but would not show what he was capable of. Though not attacking the demon standing in front of him that almost killed him, Aziraphale and Beau was extremely difficult. 

He pulled out his phone and hit the call button. They stared at him as he waited for someone to answer. 

“Hello Muriel? Strike the demon Hastur from the Book of Life.” Within seconds, Hastur's form began to shimmer, his edges blinking with white-hot light, as every demon in the room froze in horror.  

“The Book…?!” Shax’s voice was shrill as they looked over at Hastur. 

“W… WHA—“ Hastur didn’t even finish before he just faded from existence in front of them. Shax gaped before turning back to Crowley with terror in their eyes, suddenly uncertain whether their own name might soon be called next.  The room was dead silent, then Crowley shifted his stance, his eyes sweeping over every face before landing back on Shax. 

“Thank you, Muriel.” Crowley said coolly as he pocketed his phone, never breaking eye contact with Shax. “THAT is what gives me the right to dictate terms to you. Follow the rules and you won’t be wiped out like a typo. Don’t feel special either, Muriel already did this visit with the assholes upstairs.”

Crowley dusted off a lapel as he waited for a response, tension thick enough to cut through in the anxious stillness.  Shax’s fingers twitched against the armrests of the throne. 

“We agree.” They said hoarsely and Crowley’s face broke into a wide, predatory grin. 

“Oh good! I would have hated to disturb Muriel again. Well, with all that sticky business taken care of I do have to run.” Shax visibly relaxed when Crowley turned to leave. Then Crowley stopped and looked at Shax again, his eyes glowing gold as the temperature in the room dropped suddenly. “I’ll leave you with one more warning, Shax. If I find out you even looked at my kid— I won’t strike you from the book. I’ll boil you in Holy Water, one appendage at a time…. Anyway, toodaloo!”

Crowley walked away from the bullpen smirking, leaving a sick looking Shax behind. 

It was the sound of a giggling baby that made him finally start to regain consciousness. 

He was warm and comfortable, but he had no idea where he was. 

Aziraphale opened his eyes slowly as afternoon sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting soft gold patterns across his face and bedspread.   

He slowly cast his eyes across the room until they landed on a baby sitting on the rug, surrounded by brightly colored stuffies and blocks. Their hair was a mass of strawberry curls that glittered in the sunlight as they rocked and babbled to themselves. 

They wobbled a little when they lunged forward, squealing in delight as they hugged a soft looking pink rabbit to their chest. Aziraphale was surprised when a small set of dove gray wings fluttered behind their back, shimmering with a pearlescent gleam in the sunlight. 

“…Bean?” Aziraphale said as he slowly pushed himself up, his voice rough from lack of use. The baby looked up and locked eyes with Aziraphale, and they were the brightest green eyes he’d ever seen. 

“Actually Crowley named them Beau, but we do still call them Bean sometimes.” Muriel said from the doorway as they walked into the room and scooped up the giggling baby, bouncing them gently while offering Aziraphale a reassuring smile. “I had a feeling you were waking up, your aura has been more vibrant this week and Beau refused to play anywhere besides by your bedside. I think they knew too.”

Aziraphale couldn’t tear his eyes away from Beau as they babbled something to Muriel as if they would understand them. 

“How… I mean, I saw them just after birth… they are so big already— how long was I…?”

“Over six months.”Muriel said gently, as if trying to soften the blow. Aziraphale felt a dull ache in his chest. He missed six months of watching them grow, missed first smiles, all the tiny, irreplaceable milestones that Beau would never have again.  “Aziraphale… you’re alive and the plan worked.”

“Yes.. it did.” He cleared his throat as he could feel it tighten in emotion, struggling to hold back tears that threatened to spill. He reached out to run his finger down Beau’s cheek. “They are the most beautiful baby I’ve ever seen.”

“Aren’t they?!” Muriel cooed at Beau who just squealed again. They turned so Beau was facing Aziraphale. “I think your dad could use a hug from the prettiest baby in the whole world.”

“O-Oh… I, well—“ Aziraphale flustered but went still as Beau launched themselves out of Muriel’s arms and straight into Aziraphale’s chest. They hugged his neck so tightly Aziraphale lost his words, overwhelmed by the innocent trust and love radiating from Beau’s tiny arms.  

He melted and hugged Beau back. They made no move to stop hugging Aziraphale and just clung to him. Soon, Muriel quietly sat down on the bed as Aziraphale rocked the baby and ran his hand down their back between their wings.  

“The wings… are they out all the time?”

“Oh, they normally pop out when they are excited or up to mischief.” Aziraphale was curious what mischief entailed for a six month old, but Muriel continued. “I think they are too young to control or understand they shouldn’t have them out all the time. Crowley wants to keep them out of public view so we don’t attract attention when he takes them outside for fresh air. The cottage is pretty secluded and Crowley and I warded it from Heaven and Hell both.  The book shop too. We are all safe here. The book is too. Crowley has it in a pocket dimension connected to the attic. I know it was hard won, but we succeeded.”

Aziraphale nodded as he hugged Beau a little tighter. 

“Where is my little Cherub?!”Muriel and Aziraphale jumped as Beau squealed in pure delight and started to flap their wings frantically at the sound of Crowley. “I hear them, but I don’t see them! I demand cuddles from my little bitty bean!”

Muriel covered their face from laughing as Crowley stomped through the house like a monster, and Beau started to reach toward the open door in anticipation. 

“I’m here to demand my cuddles from my little hummingbird—!”Crowley appeared in the doorway, sunglasses askew, arms wide open, grinning wild at the wriggling bundle in Aziraphale’s arms. When Crowley realized who was holding Beau he flushed red all the way up to his ears. “Oh…” 

Muriel picked Beau up and handed them to a very shocked and embarrassed Crowley.

Crowley’s eyes darted to Aziraphale nervously at first, but softened when they returned to Beau. He cradled them close and smothered them with kisses. Beau batted at Crowley’s glasses, smearing tiny handprints across the lenses as they shrieked and giggled. 

“Oi! My glasses, you little fiend!” Crowley bark-laughed, though he made no move to stop Beau. 

“They haven’t slept for a few days, so I was thinking of making them a bottle and putting them down for a nap?” Crowley gave Beau one more snuggle before handing them over to Muriel. 

“I can do that—“

“Let me, that way you two can have some peace to talk.” Muriel didn’t wait for an answer, just patted his shoulder and left Crowley  there to stand awkwardly in the doorway. 

“Uh… bottle? Does Beau need to eat?”

“Oh.. no. A bottle of sugar water soothes them. They sleep, but kind of like I do? Just shorter bursts. I think it’s because they are growing. I’m not sure. Growing a half occult half ethereal baby is kind of new territory.”

“Right… of course.”

The silence stretched between them, heavy with uncertainty, so Crowley began to clean his sunglasses before putting them back on.  

Aziraphale looked around the room for a moment, trying to gather the nerve to bring up the difficult conversation they'd been struggling with for months. Finally he met Crowley’s gaze and opened his mouth to speak, but Crowley spoke before he could. 

“I forgive you.” Aziraphale’s breath caught as their gaze held. He wanted to rush to the demon and wrap his arms around him, but then Crowley cleared his throat and continued. “But, you are still the Supreme Arch Angel of Heaven. We figured..  that it would be beneficial for you to keep that position.”

After a pause, Aziraphale frowned, fingers tightening around the blankets in his lap. 

“And you decided my place should be there.” He said softly and Crowley answered with a shrug, not meeting Aziraphale’s eyes, as if the words brought back memories he wished to forget.  

“Yes. We need to keep tabs on them to make sure they behave, and you are an angel that goes along with Heaven. Further than I ever could.”

Yet another long, tense pause as Aziraphale glanced at the window, Crowley’s statement stinging a bit more than he let show. He steadied his voice before replying so Crowley wouldn’t notice the hurt in it.  

“Of course. It makes sense. What about Beau? Am I allowed any type of visitation?” 

“Yes! Yes, I figured you could stay in the bookshop when you are not in Heaven and we would stay here. You can be part of their life. I… I want you to be.” But the note of hesitation in Crowley's voice made Aziraphale inwardly wince. 

Just not part of yours, Aziraphale thought miserably. He shifted his weight so his legs hung over the bed, forcing a polite smile, masking his heart cracking in his chest.  

He had been a selfish being when it had come to the demon. With Beau being born, he didn’t need Aziraphale’s protection. 

He should be thankful he was being given the chance to at least be as close as the bookshop. He could be part of Beau's world in some small way, even if never truly close to Crowley again.  

It had to be enough. He finally forced himself to nod in agreement, though regret rose bitter in his throat. 

“We will figure out how I can be of help, without… being underfoot. I know I have been enough of a burden these past months and I’m sure you are needing some peace. The bookshop seems like it would be the best place for me. Yes, alright— I will see you.”

“Aziraphale, you don’t have to rush—“

“No, I believe it’s better if I go. So if you’d please— I just need a few moments to gather a few things before I leave.“ Aziraphale gestured toward the door. 

Crowley nodded and lingered just a moment before he turned and left the room. 

Aziraphale’s shoulders collapsed as soon as the door clicked shut, hands covering his face as he tried to steady his breathing, willing his tears not to fall, knowing Crowley could probably still hear him. 

They were all safe. He needed to just focus on that or he was going to fall apart. 

He just left. No arguing. No begging. No yelling. No tears. Just prim, polite responses with plastered on angelic smile. 

It’s what he wanted, right? Aziraphale could go back to Heaven on a whim like before. 

He was protecting himself and gave the angel an out. So why was he feeling like his chest was burning as if something precious had just been lost forever? 

Aziraphale did exactly what he asked him to do and he did it with a smile. 

Crowley walked down the hall leading to Beau’s nursery to peek in. He paused, hand on the doorframe, watching the infant sleep  in their bassinet. With their schedule they would more than likely be asleep for a few days. 

As tempting as it was, he didn’t need to wake them up just to have a distraction from his stormy thoughts. Instead, he lingered silently, the soft snuffles soothing but unrelenting in their reminder of what he was also protecting. He didn’t want Beau to feel abandoned like he had. 

He was making the right decision… right?

He sighed and stalked back to the den to pace some more. But with every turn, anger fizzed beneath his grief. 

“Crowley. You could just go talk to him if you’re this upset.”

“No. I said what I had to say. He agreed. It’s done.”

“Is it?” Crowley shot Muriel a sour look before he started rummaging through the bookshelf for anything interesting enough to distract him. Then his hand hovered over the copy of Pride and Prejudice Aziraphale had brought over from his flat. The angel must have forgotten it when he collected his things earlier that day. 

He wasn’t going to cry over that dusty old book, but the weight of memories clung stubbornly to his fingers as he picked it up. He flipped it over a few times and stared at it for a long time. 

“…why didn’t he care? Why didn’t he at least fight with me about it?” Crowley spoke quietly and Muriel frowned a little before they replied. 

“Well, from what you told me you said to him, I’m pretty sure he is under the impression that what you said was exactly what you wanted. He may be withdrawing to give you peace after trying so hard to respect your wishes, even though it may be hurting him more than he’s letting on.”

Crowley tossed the book down onto the coffee table then crossed his arms and huffed. 

“I doubt that. Every time, Muriel— every time I gave him an inch, he’d run away or turn me down. Not running away with me, running off to Heaven— twice, then almost dying—“ Muriel guffawed, cutting Crowley off. 

“Are you really going to count him almost dying as a personal slight?” Crowley pointed at Muriel indignantly. 

“I can and I will! The point is, he is going to run off to Heaven every time he thinks they need him for something, so why not just let him do it? Cut my losses and let him fulfill the need he has to carry out Heaven's will instead of expecting him to pick me over everything he's ever known or believed in, because expecting more only leads to disappointment every single time.”

Crowley slumped down onto the sofa and stared at the floor. Muriel watched him for a few moments before they got up, walking to their desk across the room. They opened a drawer and pulled a letter out. 

“I think it’s time you read this.” Muriel dropped the letter on top of the copy of Pride and Prejudice. Crowley looked at it warily. 

“What is it?”

“The letter Aziraphale left me before he went back to Heaven. He never intended to stay in Heaven. His mission from the beginning was also to get the book so he could protect the Earth.”

“I thought… I thought that you came up with that plan?”

“No Crowley. Aziraphale had been trying to get the book and bring it back to Earth since the day he left over a year and a half ago.”

“That can’t be right… he?” Muriel sat next to Crowley, and nudged his shoulder gently.

“Read it.”

He was going to be the Supreme Arch Angel of Heaven from his home on Earth. He would keep the job, but he’d do it his own way. He couldn’t stomach being in Heaven more than a few hours anyway.

It wasn’t his home. 

He looked around the flat and he hated how quiet it was. He stood in the middle of the room, listening to the sound of the clock ticking on the wall as he looked around. It had always been so cozy and peaceful, but now it felt incredibly lonely. 

The flat didn’t feel like home anymore either. He knew that peace would always be missing unless Crowley was there to share it with him.  

Vavoom— laughable, He thought while he moved to the window and looked out at the street below the flat. He just stared unseeing as he felt the weight of his decisions press heavily on him. 

He knew he was a fool. It was greedy of him, selfish to want more than he deserved. He had still hoped that Crowley would give him more. He should appreciate that he had at least forgiven Aziraphale. One day perhaps they could be the friends they once were and he could go back to silently loving the demon so dearly it ached. That was all he could hope for now.

The finality of that thought made his eyes burn so he quickly turned to the little kitchenette. 

He needed to do something with his hands. He would make tea. A cup of tea and he’d sit down and read a book. A distraction. 

When he picked up his normal mug, the one with angel wings, it slipped from his fingers and shattered on the floor. 

His hadn’t noticed that his hands were shaking. Without thinking, he dropped to his knees, gathering the jagged shards as hot tears blurred his vision.  

He hadn’t broke down while he carried out his self appointed mission. He managed to keep his composure, but now the mask was slipping, exposing every raw nerve he had tried to hide.  

At least he was alone so no one would see. 

That thought had him shooting to his feet, snatching another mug from the counter and hurling it across the flat as he screamed out in frustration, feeling the terrible emptiness swallow him as shattered porcelain scattered everywhere.  

He sobbed and wailed into the empty room as he stumbled over and dropped onto the small loveseat. 

He rocked forward onto his elbows, face buried in trembling hands, heart pounding so fiercely he could feel it against his teeth.  

He felt broken as the tears wouldn’t stop, spilling over his fingers as if his hurt wouldn’t be contained anymore. 

How was he going to heal from all of the grief he was feeling?

“Aziraphale…”

He froze, a cold spike of recognition piercing his despair as he heard Crowley’s voice gently whisper his name from the doorway leading to the cottage. 

“Oh! Oh—no, Crowley! I didn’t—“ Aziraphale stood up quickly and turned his back to the demon, furiously wiping his eyes. He laughed wetly as he continued. “I was making tea, had an accident, you know I’m not the most coordinated!”

“I can see that.” He could hear Crowley quietly stepping over the shards in the kitchenette as he made his way further into the flat. 

“Uh.. would you like some tea? I just need to clean up this mess—“ He tried to turn and walk around the room to avoid Crowley, but the demon reached out and held onto the Angel’s sleeve. 

Neither spoke for a moment, the tension vibrating in the charged air. 

“Why were you crying?” Crowley murmured, the grip on his sleeve anchored Aziraphale in place.

“I—I wasn’t— I was upset about my mug—“

“Even you wouldn’t cry like that over a mug.”

Aziraphale stood silently for a moment before he sagged a little in Crowley’s hold as he stared at the floor. 

“I don’t think this is a wise conversation to have, Crowley.”

“Tell me anyway.” Aziraphale held his breath, he could still feel Crowley’s eyes on him while he stalled to answer.  

“I wanted you to be safe, and you are. I can’t ask for more than that. Let’s say they are tears of relief and let it rest.”

“Don’t give me that shit answer. It’s worse than the mug excuse.” Aziraphale tensed as his eyes snapped back up to Crowley’s face.

“It’s not!” Crowley scoffed and tugged on his sleeve. 

“Out with it, Aziraphale.”

“Fine… I was crying because I’m upset with myself. I had to make a choice because— well… I made choices. You suffered for it and I regret that. All I wanted before was your forgiveness, and you gave it to me. That was so selfish of me. I realize now that you have forgiven me that I do not deserve it. Not with how I have acted through this whole ordeal. What I want is for you to be happy.” Aziraphale stopped himself and quickly looked away again. The frustration in his voice faded as his shoulders slumped.

Again, Even if it’s not with me, he thought sadly. He cleared his throat and tried to gently tug his sleeve free of Crowley’s hold. 

“I—I’m sorry, Crowley. I am not the best company this evening and don’t think I am in the best of moods to have a constructive conversation.”

“Do you want me to leave?” Crowley fixed him with a steady look and everything in Aziraphale wanted to scream for him not to go, to please stay. He gave a gentle nod instead, not lifting his eyes to the demon. 

“That would be the best.”

“Not what I asked.”

“I was.. I was agreeing that it would be for the best.”

“And I asked if you wanted me to leave. You’re not as good as Muriel with avoiding telling the truth while still not lying. So go ahead and answer.”

The ghost of a smirk played at Crowley’s lips. It was torture to see. He backed up a step, but Crowley only matched his movement, blocking his escape. 

“Crowley, don’t be cruel.”

“Me? Never. Now answer my question.”Aziraphale hadn’t realized he had been steadily backing away till his back bumped into the wall. He felt cornered and didn’t know how to respond. 

“W-What I want is to not infringe—“

“I read your letter to Muriel. I know what your plan had been when you left.”

“…oh. Well… I thought I had told them to destroy it.” Aziraphale  babbled as he felt a flush creep up his neck at Crowley’s unwavering gaze. He leaned toward Aziraphale, placing a hand on the wall beside his head, Crowley’s eyes glinting with something unreadable. 

“Do. You. Want. Me. To leave?” Crowley’s face softened ever so slightly. It made Aziraphale’s chest tighten.

“I…" Aziraphale managed, voice shaking with conflicted longing he couldn't hide.

“You…?”

“…I don’t want you to go.” He let the words rush out with his breath. 

Crowley leaned back to look at Aziraphale. For a moment, neither of them moved, tension thickening in the silence. Then, Crowley let out a shaky breath, eyes searching Aziraphale’s face for certainty.  

“I wanted to stay angry with you. To stay bitter. I convinced myself keeping myself separate from you I would be protecting Beau. That was just an excuse though.”

“Crowley.. I respect your feelings and don’t expect anything from you. You have every right to still be angry with me.”

“That’s the thing, though. I’m tired of fighting it, Aziraphale. I missed you too much. I missed Us.”

Aziraphale could feel his heart flutter in his chest, unable to look away since Crowley still kept him caged against the wall. 

He couldn’t hold back anymore, the words stumbling out of him as he reached out to rest a trembling hand on Crowley's arm. 

“I know.. well, before when I had said— that I had told you to forget it—“ Aziraphale babbled. 

“What?” Crowley looked amused as Aziraphale tried to collect his thoughts. 

“What I mean to say is… I told you before, to forget that I had said anything. When I had told you that I loved you. That I was in love with you.”

“Was?” Crowley asked and Aziraphale shook his head. 

“No— I am. Still am. I don’t want you to forget I said anything, because.. I am very much in love with you, Crowley. I believe I have been for a long time. I know it’s selfish of me, but I can’t lie to you.  I missed being an Us too. I don’t want to be apart from you. I am alright with loving you and knowing you may not be able to return those feelings.” Aziraphale took a breath and spoke faster, realizing what he had just said might sound like. “Not that you can’t! I didn’t mean— I am so ashamed what I said before. Your capacity for love puts any Angel to shame! I was just.. just jealous—“

“Angel…” Aziraphale’s breath stuttered out at the nickname. He stared at Crowley in shock as a smile spread across the demon’s face. “Vavoom.”

The moment pulsed between them, shimmering as Crowley leaned in and kissed Aziraphale.

Chapter Text

It was meant to be a kiss full of relief, acceptance, an exhale after the time spent at odds with each other. Instead it morphed into urgency, their hands clutching, lips desperate for reassurance the connection they'd both feared lost was truly still there. 

Together, they pressed closer, hearts thundering with every small touch as apologies faded.

Crowley noticed he had lost the lead in the pressing tangle of their bodies when Aziraphale laid him back onto the bed. 

He hadn’t even realized in their scrambling to touch each other that they had managed to stumble into the bedroom.

Aziraphale paused to loom above him, quietly gazing down at him in awe. Crowley was quickly losing his composure in the wake of Aziraphale’s tenderness. 

He was a novice to being someone that someone was in love with. 

“How do you want to do this? You have a preferred appendage you’d like to use?”Crowley blurted, then winced at how unsexy it sounded. Aziraphale laughed and pressed his forehead to his. 

“I want it all with you. Any combination. But, will you let me make up for our first time? I want to do it right this time.”

“I mean.. you did it pretty right that first time… I’ll never be able to look at that desk the same again.” Crowley smirked when Aziraphale pinked at the comment. 

There, he had the upper hand again. 

“My darling… I would very much like to make love to you.”

Upper hand lost again, Crowley thought as he nodded dumbly at the angel above him. Aziraphale smiled and leaned down to press kisses along Crowley's jaw. 

Unlike their first time together, Aziraphale couldn’t stop whispering praise and compliments against every part of Crowley’s skin his lips brushed.

“Angel— you— don’t have to say those things…” Crowley threw his arm over his eyes to hide how flustered he was getting from Aziraphale’s steady stream of adoration. The angel reached up and moved his arm so their eyes met. 

“Darling…”Aziraphale grinned  mischievously down at him, warming Crowley’s cheeks even more. “You are so beautiful, I have millennia of doting to make up for. You deserve to be showered with affection, and I plan to do it on a regular basis.” He leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss to Crowley’s lips.

Crowley tried to form a reply, but all that came out was a strangled gasp.  

The physical touch was overwhelming enough from Aziraphale, but he had no defense against the angel’s words. He squeezed his hands into the sheets, desperate to ground himself, terrified at how much he wanted Aziraphale to never stop. 

The urgency returned and Crowley lost himself to the experience of just being with his angel. His angel. 

They laughed when Aziraphale used a miracle to remove their clothes, both remembering how they had struggled with Crowley’s pants before. 

Crowley took the opportunity to flip their positions so he was straddling Aziraphale. He looked confused as Crowley just took a moment to enjoy the view of the naked angel below him. 

“You are gorgeous.”

“O-Oh… well, I wouldn’t use that term to describe—“ Crowley rolled his hips, cutting Aziraphale off as they both moaned at the sensation of Aziraphale’s hard cock rubbing against Crowley’s slick entrance. “Crowley—“

“Shut up and let me ride you.” Aziraphale’s hands gripped Crowley’s hips as he squeezed his eyes shut. 

“I’m afraid I may not last. I haven’t— the last time I reached— er well, when you and I were together in the book shop.”

“Are you telling me you haven’t popped off since you railed me against that desk?”

Aziraphale’s grip tightened on Crowley’s hips as he groaned. 

“Crowley—! Good lord, you can’t say things like that or I’m not even going to make it to the act itself.” Aziraphale said, his voice strained. 

Crowley grinned wickedly as he reached down to grip Aziraphale’s shaft so he could guide  him toward his core. He sank down without any warning and Aziraphale arched off the bed with a gasp. 

Crowley’s hands dropped to Aziraphale’s chest as he let out a shuddering breath. He couldn’t process anything except for how good it felt to be filled by the angel. 

Aziraphale wrapped his hand around the back of Crowley’s neck and pulled him down into a heated kiss as they began to slowly rock together. He babbled more sweet nothings and encouragement against Crowley’s lips between little breathy gasps and moans. 

It felt incredible, but Crowley needed more. The angel’s hands gripped Crowley’s hips so tight that they were beginning to shake. He realized that Aziraphale had still been holding back. 

“A-Aziraphale, harder—“

“I don’t want to hurt you..”

“You won’t.”

“I did before—! You deserve better—“

“Aziraphale… I love you.” Aziraphale froze as his eyes snapped to Crowley’s face. “—and you love me. So lovingly fuck me harder.”

Aziraphale gaped at him for just a moment before his gaze darkened and he flipped their positions so Crowley was once again on his back. 

The squawk that Crowley let  out quickly morphed into a punched out groan when Aziraphale  pinned the demon’s wrists above his head and thrusted, hard back into him. 

“Fuck—! Aziraphale—!” Aziraphale crashed his mouth to Crowley’s as his hands roam down from Crowley’s wrists to touch wherever he could. Crowley was on the edge then, so close to his release that he shook with it. Aziraphale’s pace was relentless, it was perfect. “Angel— Angel please— please please—“

“Come for me, my love—“ Aziraphale rasped against Crowley’s lips as their kisses grew desperate, all open mouths and shared breath. Crowley was helpless to do anything but give in to the angel’s request. 

He tensed and wrapped his legs around Aziraphale’s waist as he cried out, hips jerking and shuddering as the angel’s continued thrusts overstimulated his already raw  nerves. After just a few more erratic thrusts Aziraphale quickly followed as he let out a deep, broken moan against Crowley’s shoulder. 

They collapsed together in a sated, sweaty heap of limbs. Aziraphale brushed hair from Crowley’s forehead, his hand trembling slightly. Crowley grinned, covering Aziraphale's hand with his own as golden light of the nearby lamp flooded the room.  

“Well… that was not how I expected the day to end.” Aziraphale said and Crowley snorted before he replied. 

“Oh? You had other plans? Sorry.” 

“No need to apologize, my dear. I think the night turned out better than I could have imagined.” Aziraphale pressed a gentle kiss to Crowley’s fingers. They relaxed against each other, savoring the aftermath as they lapsed into a comfortable silence. 

“I think we should talk about what comes next for us, don’t you?” Crowley whispered and it caused Aziraphale to leaned back a little so he could look into Crowley's eyes. 

“As long as it’s as an, ‘Us,’ I am all ears, my dear.”

Crowley couldn’t stop the soft smile that stretched across his face as Aziraphale leaned down to kiss him.

3 years Later…

Crowley stretched out on a picnic blanket and enjoyed the sun on his skin. He felt like a cat in a sunbeam. 

He was at peace. 

A tinkling giggle rang out across the yard and he glanced over to see his toddler following a gaggle of geese, trying to imitate their walk. 

Beau had very sternly professed, and looked so much like her angel father while doing so, that she wanted to be a girl after Aziraphale had read her Cinderella the first time. She was determined she was going to grow up to be a princess. Crowley had informed her she could be a princess without being a girl, that she could be what ever she wanted. Beau was sure though, so they respected that. 

Oh, to be so sure of one’s self at such a young age. Crowley still floundered on which gender he preferred. But he had definitely settled on female anatomy with masculine pronouns for the time being. It’s what gave him Beau after all. 

He smiled as he watched her try to mimic the geese honking at each other. She had grown so much. She definitely wasn’t human, but she was growing at a human pace. He had a feeling once she reached adulthood her corporation may stop aging like theirs had. 

He had been worried at first, but he could sense her power growing by the day. He and Aziraphale didn’t create a mortal being,  She was like them— she was a miracle in miniature, brimming quietly with ineffable potential none could predict or control. 

He loved her and everything she was. 

Beau stopped and turned to look at the cottage before squealing and sprinting toward the back door just as Aziraphale pushed it open. 

“Daddy! Daddy!” She jumped and Aziraphale caught her with ease before hugging her tight. 

Crowley’s smile widened as he sat up and watched Aziraphale carry their daughter toward him. Beau could sense when anyone arrived at the cottage before anyone else could. He wondered if it was because of her being part demon and angel or it was something she had inherited naturally. 

“Oh, such a welcome! You’d think I was gone for years and not just a few hours!” Aziraphale's eyes twinkled as Beau pressed a dandelion into his lapel and grinned up at him.

“Poppa says you have to deal with bitchy pigeons so you need more hugs.” Crowley snorted a laugh into his hand and Aziraphale looked shocked. 

“Bitchy pigeons—!?” The angel shot the demon an unamused look as he sat down on the blanket. “Darling… could you refrain from teaching our child to have the vocabulary of a sailor?”

“Did you see Muriel when you got back?” He changed the subject and opened his arms to have Beau climb into his lap and hang off of him like he was a set of monkey bars. 

“They were at the coffee shop, Nina is teaching them how to bake apparently.”

“Good skill to have, would have come in handy with this one.” Crowley blew a raspberry into Beau’s neck. She shrieked and giggled before escaping and running back toward the geese. 

“Bye Bubba!” She waved and her parents just stared after her. 

“With the ‘Bubba’ thing again. Are you sure she’s not just calling you Bubba.” Aziraphale asked but Crowley waved the idea off. 

“It may be an imaginary friend? Which could be a little concerning since she has the power to create things. We don’t want to risk having a poltergeist or something.” Crowley sighed and rubbed his eyes. Aziraphale looked concerned as he leaned over and kissed Crowley’s temple. 

“Darling, are you alright?”

“Yeah, just a little tired. I didn’t nap when Beau did last time and I think it’s catching up with me.” 

“Why don’t you rest now? Muriel, Beau and I can take care of things for a while so you can relax without any interruptions or worries.”

Crowley almost turned the offer down, but he realized he really was exhausted, so he nodded gratefully, stretching out his legs on the blanket as a warm breeze fluttered past. Crowley let him pull him to his feet before stole a quick kiss to the angel’s forehead. Aziraphale smiled warmly at him and brushed a strand of his red hair from Crowley’s face. 

“You go ahead and head in, I’ll pack this all up.” He moved to gather the blanket, but Crowley stopped him. 

“No it’s alright, love. I’ve got it.” He and Aziraphale hadn’t done any miracles in a while until they could teach Beau how to be responsible with her powers. With her not watching he figured a little one couldn’t hurt. Besides, Crowley reasoned, he felt deep down that it was ok to be a little lazy when their child wasn’t looking. 

So, with that in mind, he snapped his fingers to do a frivolous miracle to clean up.

A weird warping sound rang through the air and fireworks popped and fizzled around them. 

Aziraphale stared in shock at Crowley who stared back with the same shocked expression. 

His miracles were going haywire. The last time that happened… 

Beau froze mid run to turn and look at Crowley. She pointed at him and as a sweet smile stretched across her face. 

“Poppa! It’s Bubba!”

“C-Crowley..?” Aziraphale looked down at the demon’s stomach. Crowley groaned and let his head drop to Aziraphale’s shoulder. 

“Well, I guess that solves the mystery of who ‘Bubba’ is.” Crowley murmured against his shoulder, and Aziraphale laughed as he stroked his hand down the back of Crowley’s head. 

“Are you… are you ok?” Crowley took a moment to answer. Then he felt Beau hug onto his legs and look up at him, bright green eyes brimming with unexpected excitement, clearly thrilled about the idea of a sibling. 

He was happy. He was at peace. He had a family. He had it all with his angel. 

“Yeah, more than ok. You?” Aziraphale scooped Beau up into his arms and cheered. The joy on Aziraphale’s face was infectious, bouncing between all three of them. Crowley snorted out a laugh as Aziraphale leaned in to smack a noisy kiss to his lips. “I’m taking that as a yes, you’re ok with this.”

“Prepare to be absolutely doted on for the foreseeable future by all of us.” Beau clapped her hands, giggling wildly at Aziraphale’s words. 

“I will pick you flowers every day, Poppa!”

“Flowers everyday! Who could say no to that?! As long as back and foot rubs from your Daddy are involved then I’m definitely on board with this arrangement.” Aziraphale blushed a little but smiled sweetly at Crowley as he took his hand with his free one not holding Beau, kissing it gently. 

“Of course, my darling.”

Crowley squeezed Aziraphale’s hand and let himself be led back to their cottage. The three of them made their way inside, laughter fading into the golden-lit warmth as the door closed behind them.