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Chapter Text

"So....have you changed your effort much through the ages?" Crowley asked as they lay together in their bed, tucked away in the flat above the bookshop. It was fairly dark - the room illumanted by the soft amber light of a small Tiffany lamp. They angled toward one another and Crowley was lazily dragging his slender fingers up and down the angel's sleeved arm.

Aziraphale had spent the day stocktaking in preparation for an upcoming booksellers association trade show. Crowley had helped him with the venture - if one considers draping himself over various pieces of furniture, while chattering away about everything and nothing, peppered with sarcastic comments, the occasional naughty inuendo, and the sly smile that the angel had come to adore so much as "helping."

Later in the evening, they had climbed upstairs as had been their usual routine after dinner. On most nights, they spent a lazy evening watching either "sensible" (Aziraphale's choice) or "terrible" (Crowley's choice) programming on television in the parlour before making their way to bed.

Crowley adored a good sleep, having done it at various intervals - sometimes for even a full century - since they were topside. The sensory experience was as good as any other ritual for him - slipping under covers while wearing luxurious fabrics for pyjamas, feeling that heady heaviness, vivid dreams that often depicted a certain curly-haired celestial being, and the feel of warmth surrounding his body as he dozed off.

As for Aziraphale, sleep was a delightful moment of indulgence after a good meal or a brisk afternoon walk or other...vigorous activities, but not something he preferred to do often as he could always find something more important to tend to and fuss over. Besides, that one time he took a nap near an apple tree a few thousand years ago hadn't ended very well. Or perhaps it had....it did re-introduce him to a certain serpent after all.

Sleep wasn't truly the reason for their nightly visits to bed. Or their mid-morning visits. Or afternoon visits for that matter. After the near-ending of the world on more than one occasion and the near-ending of their relationship, Aziraphale and Crowley had found comfort and arousal in one another and began to experiment with the various sensual activities afforded to their corporeal forms. Crowley would sometimes quip that they "went from near-ending to rear-ending," in his charmingly crass manner and often in public, just barely out of earshot. Aziraphale would make a show of rolling his eyes and tut-tutting despite feeling the warmth of his desires flushing along his nethers.

"I've experimented time and again," the angel answered. "You've obviously seen me in feminine presentations and I have certainly given the matching effort a good try. In the end, I have always preferred the...uh...you know." A blush rose to his cheeks. It didn't help that the demon's gentle stroking of his arm reminded him of the more carnal strokes that were sure to happen eventually this evening. Aziraphale had to admit that any touch from his dear fellow was enough to make God's strongest soldier lose all focus.

Crowley let out a quiet laugh. "Cock? A pecker? Knob? Willie? Tallywacker?" How he enjoyed teasing his angel. He moved his head closer to Aziraphale and breathed the next words against an ear framed by white-blonde curls. "Trouser snake?" he whispered, letting his bottom lip delicately brush against the lobe.

Had the Almighty meant to create a direct channel from ear to effort? If so, it was working splendidly in Aziraphale's corporation as the demon's words and breath ran down the length of his body like electrified honey, pooling under the straining fasteners of his trousers. "Crowley!" Aziraphale admonished, barely able to hide the shaking that began to rise in his voice. He attempted to cover it with an equally-nervous laugh. "Must you use such crass language when talking about my body?" He enjoyed playing along. Sure, he was a fussy old angel and often preferred a certain decorum, but he easily fell under the spell of Crowley no matter how socially daring his language became. "That demon tongue could get a fellow in a lot of trouble." He clicked his tongue behind his teeth in mock disapproval.

"Oh come on, Angel!" The demon's laugh was louder this time. "I have seen every bit of your glorious body. You've had that thick cock buried so far inside of me that I saw stars and forgot my own name." His voice lowered into a more sultry, yet still teasing, tone. "And I'm pretty sure you enjoy all of the trouble this demon tongue can bring to you. I've tasted every single inch of you with it," he said while lightly poking along Aziraphales chest to punctuate his words. With a cheeky wink, Crowley ran that beautifully skilled tongue along his upper lip.

Aziraphale felt himself shudder at both the memory and anticipation of what that tongue can do, but tried to remain composed. He wanted nothing more than to pin his demon down by his slinky wrists and ride him hard into the mattress, milking every last drop out of him and making him cry out in at least 4 different languages. Maybe five. However, he quite enjoyed these flirty chats both pre and post coital. Sometimes they were light and silly and other times the conversations turned profound, heavy with emotion and truth. It had been less than a year since the near-ending that eventually turned into....sigh....rear-ending. After guarantees of safety from the prying interferences of both Heaven and Hell, Aziraphale and Crowley had taken the time to work out the kinks in their relationship, which included opening up and actually talking to each other, as Maggie and Nina had insisted on that fateful day.

They also had time to work new kinks into their relationship as they both found themselves with insatiable carnal appetites for each other's corporal and spiritual forms. Despite their millennia on Earth and their early involvement in most aspects of Creation, Crowley and Aziraphale had not indulged in earthly pleasures of the flesh. Both had secretly harbored lust and desires in their hearts and in their nether regions since they stood together on a wall long ago. In their whispered conversations post near-ending and before their first rear-ending, they spoke of their experience and lack thereof.

Crowley had not been as lucky as Aziraphale when it came to choices over his corporeal or demonic form. This was first evident with his Fall, when his Heavenly grace was stripped and his body was burned, altered, and degraded. "You don't exactly get a warm welcome note and a lush fruit basket when you first enter Hell," Crowley explained.

In time, he had begun to detail just what happened to him and the violations that were inflicted upon his newly demonic body. Crowley had experienced the revoking of his consent at the hands of other demons and the occasional human more times than he could count. When faced with topside assignments, he vowed to himself that, despite being a wretched creature of Hell and a castout of Heaven, he would never go as far as to violate anyone's bodily autonomy when it came to sexual matters. He was fine with being an object of temptation in looks and words only, but did not allow for sexual interactions. He preferred to tempt people into thinking and asking questions - often a far more dangerous and disruptive option than a fuck. When he did allow his corporation to feel desire, he quickly found it was centered on one curly-haired angel that he knew he'd never be able to have.

Aziraphale wept when Crowley first told him all of his history and he vowed to give Crowley all of the time he needed when it came to their intimate interactions. Crowley truly desired that time and when it came to being vulnerable and opening himself up to his angel, physically and emotionally, he was truly grateful for the extra care and attention. Aziraphale had been very delicate and patient with him. The demon required that sense of safety and patience and lapped it up the way he would lap up the spend on Aziraphale's belly after a proper dicking down. Crowley had always felt safe with Aziraphale and he eventually submitted the last part of him that he had kept protected and hidden for thousands of years to his angel. To say the last few months were physically exhilarating and emotionally healing would be an understatement.

So far, their lovemaking involved matching parts for the both of them. They hadn't discussed it much outside of moans, gasps, and pleas for "harder" and "deeper." Aziraphale shifted to allow the growing swell in his trousers a bit more room. "What about you? he asked in a low whisper. "I know you have touched all aspects of the gender spectrum over our lifetime. Have you experimented down...well, you know?" If Aziraphale was an honest fellow - and he most certainly is, thank you very much - this was something that drove him wild. While he preferred the male form if he were to find himself attracted to humans, Crowley's beautiful gender fluidity left him weak in the knees and hard in the cock.

"Again, Angel?" Crowley teased. "You mean a pussy? Minge? Twat? Growler? Fanny?" He knew exactly what he was doing when he repeated his previous tease, this time focusing on Aziraphale's neck. "Cunt." His emphasis on the "T" vibrated the air, causing it to tickle the angel's skin.

Aziraphale was finding it more difficult to stifle his shaky breaths and the obvious tent that developed in his trousers. He delighted in being seduced by this wily serpent fellow, so he clenched his eyes shut and took a steadying breath as he focused on Crowley's answer.

"I have enjoyed changing m'body to reflect different genders. I feel more comfortable if I know I have a choice to change as it suits me. " He pointed down to his groin and Aziraphale swallowed back a moan at the sight of the growing arousal there. "I've definitely manifested a cunt in my time. I have even experienced the bleeding and the cramps and the.....wetness."

In this moment, Crowley was thinking of the times he had manifested that particular effort and found himself growing wet at the thought or sight of Aziraphale. However, his choice to experience the full effects of menstruation carried a deeper meaning for him. As the damned Serpent of Eden, the blame for millennia of women's pain has been attributed to him. The truth had been more complicated than that - free will was a thing for humans, after all - but he often allowed himself to feel everything naturally within his corporation as a form of solidarity and a cleansing of his own shame and guilt. He never wanted to cause them discomfort, but he should have known better than anyone that seeking knowledge would lead to immeasurable bodily pain. For now, those thoughts remained tucked away and he focused on driving his angel wild.

"What would you think if I changed it at some point? Do you ever think of my warm, wet, and tight cunt wrapped around your thick cock?" he asked, allowing his eyes to travel down the length of Aziraphale's body to the obvious straining bulge between his legs.

Aziraphale could hardly take it anymore. He propped himself up on his elbow, looking down at a demon with a glint in his golden eyes and a smirk on his face. "I want you in any form you will give me, Crowley. " He wanted to sound a bit randy, but- oh fuck! - he felt himself getting sentimental, thus delaying relief for his horny body.

"Making love to you brings me a joy that I still can't find the words to describe. None of the books in my shop come close to properly describing what I feel for you... what I've felt since before Eden. You're so perfect in any form you take and I am grateful I get to spend eternity with you by my side."

He layed a soft kiss on Crowley's lips as he slowly rubbed his hard length against his lover's thigh, closing his eyes as the contact sent fire through nerve endings. He couldn't wait any longer, sentimentality be damned. He needed to consume and be consumed. Opening his lids, he stared into the demon's honeyed eyes with renewed electricity in his own blues.

"I'd love to feel your hot, dripping cunt swallow my cock." There we go, he could talk sexy. He kissed him harder this time, moving himself over Crowley's leg and grinding into him. He palmed the crotch of Crowley's trousers, flashing a smile upon finding a familiar hardness underneath the taut fabric and hearing the sharp intake of breath from the demon.

"However you choose to take my cock is fine by me," he breathed as he slipped between Crowley's legs and found their matching arousals lined up. "And I know you'll be screaming my name and forgetting yours no matter what hole I -," he rolled his hips into Crowley's for emphasis, "- stick it into." He trailed his tongue up his demons long neck to his earlobe. Filthy angel.

Crowley wrapped his long legs around the back of Aziraphale's thighs and gripped his back. He longed to feel him inside and could feel the familiar ache for him deep in his pelvis, but he wasn't ready for that tonight. He had allowed exploration of a new vulnerability in his mind and he would need to take time before giving himself over with a new effort. He wished he could always just jump dick or cunt or ass first into any sexual activity with his angel, but that hadn't been the case on many occasions as he learned that even Heaven's cast-outs struggle with healing from trauma. He was grateful that his lover always understood his varying need for patience.

Tonight, he was focused on devouring his angel. He flipped Aziraphale onto his back and nipped at his neck. "I can't wait to feel you inside my pusssssy soon, but tonight I am going to own all of you."

He began to kiss the angel in a trail down his neck to his chest, slowly unbuttoning his cotton shirt to reveal silvery blonde hair underneath. They could easily miracle their clothes off in a snap, but they rather enjoyed the process of undressing each other. Once he freed Aziraphale's torso from it's button-downed shroud, he buried his face in the nest of soft, curly hair, his tongue searching until it come upon a perfectly pink perky nipple. He brought forth a slutty groan from the angel as his tongue rolled around the the tiny hard bead and his teeth playfully nibbled at it. Aziraphale pulled at Crowley's shirt, freeing it from where it was still neatly tucked into trousers. The demon sat up, quickly slid his arms out and pulled it over his head. He briefly broke from his angel to stand next to the bed and slowly unzipped his tight trousers and pulled them and his underpants down and off, catching his socks along the way. His cock stretched and twitched, ready to plunge into the depths of a beckoning angel. He stood there for a moment, slowly running his hands down the darker ginger hair at his own chest and belly, enjoying the heat in his angel's eyes. Aziraphale sighed as he looked Crowley up and down, licking his lips at the sight of his willowy naked demon.

"You're so beautiful," he said in reverence, savoring the feel of his love's weight on top of him and the heat of demon skin against his own as Crowley lay back down on top of him. Crowley dutifully returned to his work at Aziraphale's nipples.

"Crowley, please. Oh....oh god..," he gasped as he brought his hand down to quickly fumble with his own trousers and grope his hard length. "I need you." He thrust his hips up into the demon, searching for any friction he could find as Crowley playfully darted his tongue along each nipple.

"Patience, love," the demon teased as he dropped light kisses down Aziraphale's sternum to his beautifully perfect soft belly. Crowley loved it here. It was warm and comforting. He could just lay his head on the softness for a long time, feeling the smooth skin under his cheek, lulled into relaxation by the rhythmic breathing of his lover. A long cuddle would have to wait until later. Right now, he had a very horny angel who was furiously carding his fingers through his red hair, gently guiding Crowley's head a bit lower. Lucky for Aziraphale, Crowley was hungry. He shooed Aziraphale's hands away from the buttons on his trousers and worked to finish the job himself, pulling them past his arse and off his legs. The demon was too impatient to fiddle with vintage sock garters so they, along with the tartan socks, remained. Aziraphale's seersucker - seersucker, Angel? Really? - boxers were no match for the hard length that was now standing straight up at attention. Such a good soldier. Crowley gripped the cock through the fabric, teasing it and feeling it strain against his hand. He ran his tongue over the shaft through the underpants as Aziraphale gripped his hair even harder. For his part, the angel thrust up towards Crowley's mouth and he thinks he begged him to swallow his cock, but he can't be sure the noises he made matched words in any language. No matter, Crowley understood him and quickly grabbed the elastic waistband and yanked the pants off. Free at last. His hard cock pulsed and twitched as it stretched up the length of him. He let out a low growl as he felt the skin of Crowley's hand brush along his foreskin.

Crowley rested his chin on the angel's milky thigh for a moment, drinking in the sight in front of him. The first time he had worshipped at the altar of St. Aziraphale, the angel had been shy, meekly covering his perfect belly with his arms and cupping his palms around his dick. He remembered the nervous trembling in his love's strong thighs - Holy Heaven, those thighs - as he had looked up to find pleading blue eyes that were full of desire, but lacking confidence.

Tonight was a different sight. Now accustomed to each other in all manner of unchaste ways, the angel's eyes were full of fire and lust and his hands were firmly wrapped in Crowley's fiery hair. Aziraphale was more confident in his body, knowing it could provide pleasure and protection for his most treasured love. He was becoming more confident in his words as well, leaning into language that would otherwise leave a proper gentleman angel blushing.

"Suck me, Crowley. Don't let me wait another moment. Let me fuck that hot mouth," he commanded.

Crowley loved a demanding angel. He planted light kisses along the inside of one divine thigh as he used his fingers to apply pressure to Aziraphale's perineum, eliciting hitched breaths from the angel as that sweet spot was awakened. He took the shaft in his hand, moving his open lips to lightly rest on it, sending a shiver throughout Aziraphale as the angel felt Crowley's warm breath tease at his skin. The demon set his eyes on Aziraphale's, drinking in the lust in those blue pools as he flattened his tongue against the base of the shaft, slowly gliding it up to the glans in a single sweeping stroke, savoring the sweet and lightly salty taste of his lover.

"Ohhhh....f-fuck," Aziraphale groaned from somewhere deep in his throat, tightening his grip on the red hair in his hands.

Crowley rolled his tongue around the head, gently darting it against his slit and then flicking the frenulum. He could feel a warm flush move through Aziraphale as the angel's breathing became more erratic and his thighs - good godly fuck, those thighs - began to tighten around Crowley's head and shoulders. It was the demon's turn to feel a shiver run throughout his lithe body - the pressure from Aziraphale's quads pressed against his head has become one of his favorite sensations. Crowley ground his own cock into the mattress as he worked a hand up and down Aziraphale's shaft, letting the foreskin glide with it. He continued to tease the cock with hot breath, long licks, and gentle, very gentle, playful nips.

Aziraphale couldn't take the antici.....oh, oh there he was! Crowley engulfed the angel's entire cock in his mouth in one serpentine movement. Warmth and wetness enveloped his holy wood and his mind wandered to the idea of feeling a similar wet warmth among welcoming lips when Crowley eventually changed efforts. It was enough to make him push down on the back of the demon's head a bit harder, but not enough to overwhelm him. Aziraphale knew it was important for Crowley, an utter slut for the angel's Dom side as he was, to have a sense of control at all times. Crowley grunted in approval, moving his mouth up and down the length, applying the perfect mix of pressure and suction. Meeting the angel's eyes again, he gave a wink and sank the cock deep into his throat. Aziraphale cried out and bucked his hips, dropping a hand from Crowley's head and gripping the sheet. He could feel the last little sparks of control leaving his body as he submitted to primal sensations and needs.

Crowley's throat let out a groan that couldn't be stopped by the large glans hitting the back of it as he worked his mouth up and down Aziraphale's length. The angel could feel the vibrations of Crowley's moans all along his dick as demon tongue slid over it and lips remained tight yet soft around it. One would think Aziraphale couldn't get harder, but the angel's effort reached a new firmness as his breath came in rapid gasps and his hands twisted and grasped at Crowley's head.

Not wanting to bring him to a finish yet, Crowley slowly released the cock from his mouth and held it in his hand, drawing his tongue up from the base to the tip like a snake moving up a tree. His tongue dipped into the slick of pre-cum there, letting it form a string between his mouth and Aziraphale's dick, while he held his gaze. He knew the sight of this drove his angel absolutely wild and the thought of that made his own cock grind harder into the poor mattress as he listened to his lover's panting.

"Oh..oh...cum...fuck someone...fuck....yes, Crowley." Aziraphale struggled with words in this state, but the demon was certain he was asking for a good fucking.

Crowley's mouth began the long journey back up the angel's shaking body, now covered in a sheen of sweat, to Aziraphale's lips, kissing him deeply and letting his tongue slip into the angel's mouth. Aziraphale felt a surge of heat pulse through his body at the taste of his own cum and cock on Crowley's tongue. Better than Parisian crepes. Crowley was now sliding his dick against Aziraphale's, soaked from the demon's saliva, leaving the angel to claw at his back and beg to be filled.

"Can I fuck you, Angel?" Another deep kiss before the angel could answer.

"Crowley, please," he whined, "I need you. Please." He spread his legs open further and reached his hands down to cup handfuls of tight demon ass, grinding his hips upward to invite him in. "Please fuck me," he whispered.

They kissed lips and necks and collarbones and ears for a few more minutes, passing moans and heavy breaths between each other. Crowley settled his slinky hips between Aziraphale's thighs - God, those fucking thighs - and miracled lube onto his fingers, working it along his cock and spreading some onto the angel's ass. Aziraphale squealed at the contact with that most secret part of him. He reached a hand down to stroke along his love's cock, teasing at the foreskin with his fingers while a soft hiss escaped through the demon's teeth. Crowley lined up the head of his dick with the quivering hole, meeting Aziraphale's eyes with his own and waited for the angel to let his breath out and invite him in.

They have made love thousands of times by now. Slow and gentle. Fast and fairly furious. Hours long. Two minute quickies. In bed. Up against walls and bookshelves. In front of the plants. Under the stars. Indoors. Outdoors. On floors. In the back of a car. In a cellar like a church with the door ajar. They have taken turns topping and bottoming. However their lovemaking plays out on a given occasion, this is the part where they stop time. This is the moment that, no matter how dirty and slutty they feel, the emotion overwhelms them and they breathe through it together, eyes on eyes and hearts pressed together. This particular connection has meant so much to both of them for many different reasons that they have whispered to each other as the sweat and cum dried off their bodies while they stay wrapped up in a tangle of arms and legs.

Aziraphale exhaled and relaxed as Crowley pressed in and matched the exhale with his own. He let out a small cry when he felt the head breach him. There was s a momentary pinch and he gasped again. Yellow met blue and they breathed together as Crowley slipped in another inch, pushing past a ring of muscle that made an electric pulse shimmer up Aziraphale's spine.

Crowley relaxed his arms down, resting his elbows on either side of the angel, his hands finding Aziraphale's hair, gently winding fingers through the curls. His angel is so gorgeous and he can't believe this is actually his reality now - expressing his love for a divine being with his own broken and rejected body. He dropped a small kiss on the world's most perfect nose and then another on the angel's lips. They frequently share a tear or two during and oftentimes after sex. Whether it's a single drop sliding down a cheek or a throaty sob, the reality of their bodies being connected and pleasured after all this time always takes ahold of their hearts and grips them on a spiritual level that leaves them breathless. Lips pressed against each other and Crowley moved to kiss the angel on the forehead as he slid in further, halfway now.

Aziraphale kissed the drop that formed in the outer corner of his demon's eye and noted that his own eyes were a bit wetter now. He exhaled another big breath and felt his thighs - those glorious fucking thighs - relax a bit.

"I love you," whispered Crowley as he filled Aziraphale with the rest of him. The angel answered back in kind and gently combed his fingers through the mess of red hair at Crowley's head. The demon reached up and took one of Aziraphale's hands, bringing it to his lips for a few worshipful kisses. They remained like that for a few moments, allowing Aziraphale to adjust, sharing soft kisses and sighs. Their bodies flushed with heat as Crowley slowly pulled his dick outward, almost releasing himself completely, and then gently pushed back in with one slooowww glide.

Aziraphale quietly cried out as a new pleasure starts to build low in his belly. He'll never take the feel of Crowley's skilled, long cock sliding in and out of him for granted. He adored the sensation of being stretched and filled. He pressed his legs against the demon's sides tightly and felt his socked toes begin to curl as another thrust is delivered.

He gently ran his fingers up and down Crowley's back for a few moments until he was back to palming demon cheeks, slowly pushing them into him, his ass clenched around the hard cock, pulling it further in. He dropped his head and kissed Crowley's collarbone, leading his tongue up his neck and sucking on a tender spot there. It'll leave a small bruise that they will both forget to miracle away later. Crowley will flash it at him while they are in a shop, leaving the angel to blush at the memory of this moment and wondering if anyone else notices.

The demon moaned as he drove himself in deeper and his thrusts began to quicken. Crowley's skin became flushed dark pink along his neck and chest as their breathing picked up pace and sweat beaded on foreheads and chests. The gentle palming of Crowley's ass turns into tight grips until Aziraphale moved his hands and wrapped his arms around the demons back, digging his nails in as Crowley's cock dove deeper and stretched him more. Crowley hissed in pleasure at the painful sensation from his angel's grip and began to thrust harder. Aziraphale looked down to where they are connected and a cry broke from his lips at the sight. He ground his hips down to meet each thrust and felt more pleasure surge throughout him when he heard the loud slapping of balls against his ass. He won't admit it to anyone, but it's his favorite music.

As their movements become more hurried, the slapping became louder, and breaths turned more erratic, Crowley shifted Aziraphale's hips up just a little bit, leaving the head of his dick to brush up against a bundle of nerves deep inside the angel.

Aziraphale let out a high-pitched shout followed by a growl. "Fuck me, demon. Make me cum," his voice low and commanding.

He had a tight grasp of demon hair in one hand and a tighter grasp of demon asscheek in the other. He pressed his heels into Crowley as if he was a jockey urging his horse to go faster. Another hit to the prostate had Aziraphale howling and commanding harder thrusts. He could feel the warm sticky pre-cum trickling out of his dick, trapped between his belly and Crowley's.

The demon complied with the command and pumped faster, feeling his body slamming into the angel's scrumptious ass and reveling in the feel of those divine glutes rippling and vibrating back against him. He buried his face into the angel's neck, inhaling the intoxicating mix of sweat, books, and Heaven.

Verbal utterances that don't seem to match any earthly language cry out of both their mouths as they moved together in a haphazard rhythm with the heat rushing through their bodies and pushing sweat through their skin. They became hurried and sloppy and messy and it was the most divine thing they could experience at that moment. Mouths crashed into kisses, tongues dancing around each other. As they both felt tension building low in their bellies, they pressed their foreheads together and breathed into one another. Deep moans became higher and squeakier while they called out each other's names and shouted more than one obscenity and half a prayer. Crowley braced his hands on either side of Aziraphale's face while the angel gripped him hard around his back with his legs and around his shoulders with his arms.

Aziraphale grasped at the hair on the back of his demon's head, eliciting a hissing growl from his lover, feeling the tension building between both of their bodies. He knew Crowley was close based on the quick whimpering cries coming from the demon. But it's the angel who breaks first, arching his back up off the bed. He felt the sheet peel away from his sweaty skin. Every limb wrapped around Crowley became tighter and his hands gripped at the demon's head. As a sob escaped from his chest, hot ropes of cum splash up onto Aziraphale's belly, eventually coating the demon's skin where it meets his. His lover's muscles began to tense and quake. He felt Crowley's cock pulse and twitch deep inside him, while demon cried out with his release, filling Aziraphale as he pressed their lips together, hands grasping at the pillow under the angel's head.

It's Aziraphale who reaches for Crowley's hand this time, gripping tightly and bringing their linked fingers to his chest. Their orgasms push through them, wave chasing wave, leaving the cosmos behind their eyelids and their lungs searching for air. As they rocked back to the shore of their panting bodies, Aziraphale's perfect thighs began to shake, but he left them wrapped around his love. Their chests rose and fell together, slick with sweat and a little bit of cum, and they remembered how to breathe properly.

Crowley buried his face into his lover's neck, playfully nipping him before lifting his head to gaze into sapphire eyes. Their kiss is hungry at first and then slows as they taste each other's sweat and an errant tear. Crowley let out a sigh mixed with a shaky laugh.

Aziraphale held his gaze and pushed damp red waves away from Crowley's forehead. "I love you. I love you. I love you, " he breathed and delivered a kiss to said forehead. Aziraphale always prefers that Crowley remain inside him until he softens and slips out, so they remained connected while they wrapped each other in a tight hug, kissing and caressing.

"Are you okay?" Crowley asks between kisses.

Aziraphale knew he asks because of the demon's own experiences with not being okay. The knowledge leaves a pang in his heart, but he was always happy to bless him with reassurance. "You are perfect." He tightens the hug around him. "You always make me feel so good." Kiss. "So loved." Kiss. "So safe." Kiss. "So free." The angel gave him a soft smile.

Crowley closed his eyes and breathes in each word. The fact that he can make his beautiful angel feel such wonderful things left a gentle hug of warmth around his heart. A demon isn't meant to make anyone feel safe, but here is this angel, fully trusting him and feeling protected and loved by him. Tears were teased out of his eyes again and he rested his head in the crook of Aziraphale's neck and shoulder.

The angel softly ran his fingers through Crowley's hair, trailing them down and making patterns on the back of his neck.

Crowley gave in to feeling all of the sensations in his body - his softening cock still inside the warmth of Aziraphale, the angel's soft body wrapped together with his, supporting him, protecting him. The room was quiet save for the sound of his love's gentle breathing and filled with the smell of sex, cum, sweat, their bodies, books, and plants. It couldn't be more perfect. He was still getting used to relaxing into this feeling of contentment.

He raised his head to meet Aziraphale's eyes and twisted a few fingers into sweaty platinum curls. "I love you, Aziraphale. I really really love you. " Another kiss for the world's most perfect nose. "I love you, " he whispers.

Aziraphale ran his hand up and down Crowley's back and rubbed a foot along Crowley's calf.

"I'm sorry I left your socks on," Crowley laughed.

"You were too horny to fuss with garters, hmmm?" Aziraphale teased with a raised eyebrow. "I rather thought it looked...hot? Sexy?" They both laughed, the force of which prompted Crowley's dick to slide out of Aziraphale. Bummer. Aziraphale pouted and gave a mock whine about it.

Crowley shifted down a bit so he could lay himself on Aziraphale's chest. He loved feeling the soft rise and fall of the angel's chest. He circled his fingers through soft little chest hairs, still wet and sticky from a mix of cum and sweat. They may miracle themselves clean or they may shower together. Or, they may fall asleep as is, sticky and fully sated, waiting until the morning to clean themselves up. Crowley nuzzled his way down a little further to rest his head on the most beautiful belly ever created.

Aziraphale played with the demon's hair with one hand, sliding the other one down his own chest to take Crowley's hand. They danced their fingers together for a bit before settling them laced together on Aziraphale's belly.

"You're the most perfect thing She ever created," Crowley whispered sleepily.

Aziraphale squeezed his hand and felt a tear escape from his eye. "That honor goes to you, my love." He looked down to find the demon already dozing peacefully, head softly rising and falling with each of Aziraphale's breaths. He may not have heard him, but he knows Crowley could feel his words. He ran a thumb over Crowley's perfectly-crafted cheekbone before cradling the demon in both of his arms.

"Sweet dreams, my darling," he said quietly as he allowed himself to drift off to sleep.

Chapter Text

Aziraphale dozed in and out of his slumber, fully waking up as the dawn approached. He cherished these moments when his demon wrapped himself around his body as he slept. He didn't mind being nearly pinned down for hours. Aziraphale loved to cradle Crowley in his arms and caress his shoulders and his face. His favorite part of this ritual was nearing closer as a sliver of golden light gathered at the horizon. The sun would be slowly waking up soon and it would cast soft rays in through the window and over their bed, illuminating his lovers face, which made each of his freckles stand out. Aziraphale loved to kiss each one of them until Crowley woke up.

For now, he waited. He gazed down at the creature asleep in his arms. During the night, Crowley had sleepily inched back up Aziraphale's chest, settling his head in the crook near his shoulder. In this position, Aziraphale could dip his head down to smell the demon's hair and kiss the top of his head. Remnants of last night's sweat mixed with Crowley's Vetiver and citrus shampoo filled the angel's nose as he dropped a few light kisses, smiling at the memory of their bodies intertwined and connected just hours ago. The demon began to stir right on cue as warm light poked through the window. Aziraphale smiled as the sun's glow danced on Crowley's skin. He tipped his love's face up towards his and began his work, kissing his way through the constellation of freckles.

Crowley pretended to be asleep for a few more moments. He was very much aware of Aziraphale's little kiss ritual and apparent freckle fetish and it delighted him. After a few more moments, he stretched his long limbs and hummed a "g'mornnnangel." He was saving his best morning move for last. He relished in a few more lazy kisses from his angel. Then, as he felt more of the warm sun on his face, he slowly peeked through his eyelids, giving a small tease of his irises, finding his lover meeting his gaze. He savored the smile that grew over the angel's face and knew his own mouth was curling upwards in response. But it was the adoration and wonder in Aziraphale's eyes that grabbed at his heart. He opened his lids all the way and listened for the usual gasp that sprang out of Aziraphale's mouth as the angel took in the sight of Crowley's citrine eyes awash in the soft glow of the morning sun. He couldn't help but feel captivated by Aziraphale's reaction. He knew the angel adored them just as he adored his love's beautiful blues. That was the thing - Crowley knew Aziraphale had this little ritual of watching him open his eyes the first thing each day. He knew how much the angel adored his snake eyes and found them beautiful and divine. But Crowley, who worked very closely on the design of skies and heavenly objects before all of this began, never saw any blue object on this planet or in the rest of the Universe as gorgeous as Aziraphale's eyes.

Gah, he thought of how corny it all was - their sappy long connected gazes. Yet, he felt so much joy, the kind a demon shouldn't have ever been allowed to feel, in it all. They have spent almost their entire existence pretending. Stealing looks. Being afraid to hold eye contact for too long lest the eyes of Heaven and Hell be upon them. Shit, he thought, they had been afraid of each other as well....each of them wondering if the other suspected their true feelings. For a long time, adoring glances were quick, shy, and hopefully not suspicious. Now that they were free of the fear and worry of their home offices, they spent long amounts of time just looking at one another, taking each other in, connecting in visual worship. Crowley knew he'd never get enough of that even if they had an eternity together. And they do.

"Good morning, darling. I trust you slept well?" Another kiss for another freckle.

"Like a baby," Crowley yawned.

"That's the thing," said Aziraphale, "babies don't always sleep very well. They're designed to wake up often. It's a matter of survival, really."

Crowley chuckled. "I love how you can be quite literal." He propped himself up on an elbow and leaned in to give Aziraphale a proper good morning kiss on the lips. "Fine." Another kiss. "I slept like a healthy demon who delivered a proper shagging to his very unchaste angel." He gave a cheesy smile.

"Oh good Lord," Aziraphale clucked. Crowley settled himself back onto Aziraphale's chest. He ran fingers over his chest hair and to his shoulder, running a trail up and down the angel's arm. Aziraphale responded by wrapping both arms around Crowley and giving him a squeeze. "I've got you now, demon. No getting away from me. Can't have you out there tempting more innocent angels." He gave another squeeze.

Crowley wriggled weakly, making it obvious that he was only half-heartedly trying to escape. "Am snek. Can't be contained. Can wriggle away through small spaces. Very fast. M'dangerous, too." He hissed and snapped his teeth before breaking into a laugh, which was met with Aziraphale's own giggles.

Aziraphale kept his grip on him and rolled him over, pinning him down his with his entire body. He reached a hand up to cup Crowley's cheek, softly running his thumb along that exquisite jawline. "Would you truly want to escape?" the angel asked with raised eyebrows. "You may find yourself in want of someone who can keep a snake well-fed and handled with care." He kissed along his demon's jawline before making his way to his lips and planting a kiss there." I happen to be quite well-versed in serpent husbandry." Another kiss.

Husbandry. The word stirred a different set of feelings - that had nothing to do with proper snake care and feeding - in Crowley's heart. Feelings that surged through him with a new kind of excitement. An excitement he was still too shy to embrace. That shyness was laced with hope and a future confidence, though. For now, Crowley held these feelings to his chest like a spread of cards he didn't want to reveal just yet. He kissed Aziraphale in return. "Listen here, Angel. If you think all of this talk is going to tempt me to make some naff joke about you being a right snake charmer, you've got another thing coming."

"You just did." A gorgeous broad smiled stretched across the angel's face. "Temptation accomplished." Aziraphale gave a little shoulder shimmy to drive home his point. Of course he did. They both erupted into laughs followed by more slow and lazy kissing. Aziraphale pulled away and stroked the demon's hair. "Should we get ready for the day? I suppose I should do a bit more preparation for the Booksellers Association trade show so that I'm not rushing last minute when we leave tomorrow. You can help me by, ah, looking like you do. Keeps the motivation flowing."

"I live to serve you, Angel." He copied his love and ran his fingers through the angel's hair and planted a kiss on his forehead. He didn't really want to get up. Neither of them did. He could stay in bed with Aziraphale on top of him all day. He loved the feel of his lover's weight on him, the angel's plush curves pressed against his angular body. However, they were a responsible angel and demon with a job to do that day.

Aziraphale enjoyed his bookseller trade shows, even if he didn't always trade any books. Rather, he charmed books from fellow traders like a literary demon. He sold or traded now and again, to keep up appearances. Best not to raise suspicions or ire. His real weapon was that he was a master at restoration and repair, as well as translation. He had skills and knowledge that made other booksellers flock to him, forgiving his amusing eccentricities.

Crowley would normally rather watch a Nickelback concert than attend a bookseller's trade show, but he did pop in now and again to watch his beloved in action. He wouldn't freely admit it, but watching Aziraphale in his bookish element made him warm and fuzzy. Fuck, it even turned him on. In the book world, Aziraphale wasn't just some angel on assignment, hiding his heavenly embassy behind a bookshop. He was simply a fellow who enjoyed collecting, restoring, reading, and sometimes selling the written word. He was confident and sometimes even a little cunty and the demon ate that right up.

Crowley sighed, knowing they should get out of bed very soon. "Fancy a morning bath? I personally don't mind walking around with your cum dried on my skin, mind, but a little clean up may be the proper thing." He continued brushing his fingers through silvery blonde curls that had become just a wee bit tangled by last night's exercises. He ran his other hand down Aziraphale's back, taking in the feel of warm skin and a layer of softness that covered strong muscles. He felt so safe underneath of his angel. He dipped his head to nudge his nose onto his beloved's collarbone, savoring the smell of him - sweetness mixed with the sky.

"I'd love a bath," Aziraphale replied. Truth be told, he enjoyed waking up still feeling sticky between his thighs and asscheeks....and on his belly and sometimes his back. And, once, or maybe 4 times, his face. He loved having the evidence of their lovemaking on his skin and - blush - still inside him. Some would say he was a fussy old angel - he was just a fellow who had particular habits, thankyouverymuch - but Aziraphale had learned over the last few months that he had a bit of a randy side as well and he was enjoying the process of discovering and embracing that part of himself. Didn't hurt to have The Master Tempter by his side. Slut.

"We'll have to make it quite quick, though. It's Monday and you know what that means." He wiggled his fingers in front of Crowley's face.

Crowley smiled and sighed dramatically. "Chelsea buns..."

"Chelsea buns!" the angel exclaimed with glee. Nina had different specials on each day of the week. Mondays were a particular favorite for Aziraphale as she and her staff made Chelsea Buns, some of the best he'd tasted in more than a century. Nina always offered to put some aside for him, but Aziraphale liked to line up bright and early once she opened so he could enjoy them fresh and warm. Could he miracle them at any time from anyplace in the world? Of course, but that was not how Aziraphale has done things in...well, forever. Whether it was food or clothing or barber visits or anything else, he loved the connection with humanity as he enjoyed the talented work of their minds and hands. He and Crowley had a shared love in that regard. Miracles were always a convenient fallback, but they enjoyed domesticity and humanity and the comforts that came with those things. That's how, a few centuries ago, an angel with Heaven at his fingertips ended up chained in a dungeon after nipping to Paris for crepes in the middle of a whole ass revolution. You just can't beat the real thing, even if it means the inconvenient risk of an encounter with the guillotine.

Crowley gave a sharp, but gentle, slap to Aziraphale's luscious left asscheek, eliciting a surprised squeal from the angel. "Right then. Up we go. Into the tub!" With an extra kiss for good measure, they both got out of bed and made their way into the bathroom for a good, quick soak.

The bathroom was charmingly appointed in a fussy old angel way. A brass-framed mirror that has seen two centuries hung above a mint green porcelain pedestal sink with old-fashioned fixtures. A matching toilet - not really needed - was close by. The bathtub was an antique claw-footed model that was always miraculously the proper size no matter who was in the tub or, ahem, what they were doing. It was set with a small shelf tray that contained various soaps and shampoos. There was a small stand shower in the corner, which had been rarely used for most of it's existence, until the day Crowley pressed a soapy Aziraphale up against the tiles in there, taking him under the warm water falling from the shower head. Next to that was a quaint cart with shelves containing extra bath towels, flannels, soap, razors, and shave foam. A small window was set higher on the wall, affording them privacy while also providing a little bit of sunlight for the plants that Crowley had moved into the bathroom. Plants of various shapes and sizes, including angel wing begonias and a snake plant - of course - thrived on little stands he had placed throughout the lavatory. They enjoyed the little bits of sunlight peeking through the window and the steam from various showers and bath soaks. Crowley would often growl a threatening, "no peeking," when he and the angel created their own steam in that room. Then he'd wink because he wasn't as much of a hardass on his plants as he claimed.

Angel and demon sank into the blissfully warm water, which was loaded with bubbles from Aziraphale's favorite rosy bubble bath. Kisses and cheeky touches were passed back and forth and they massaged and washed one another. Aziraphale kept a small pitcher on the shelf near the tub to use for rinsing out shampooed hair. The angel had opted to use Crowley's shampoo - he loved to be reminded of his scent throughout the day. Crowley kissed his beloved eyes after being too enthusiastic with rinsing his hair, causing shampoo to breach the lids and deliver a wee sting.

Once finished, Crowley stepped out onto the bathmat and offered a hand to Aziraphale as the angel followed him out of the tub. The demon grabbed a towel and began patting the angel down, drying off his luscious belly, his back, his shoulders, and playfully rubbing his head with vigor, leaving the angel's hair wild and unruly like a dandelion blowball. He was too adorable. After drying, they jockeyed for position at the mirror during their shave, towels wrapped around their waists. Today was a quick shave in light of Aziraphale's pressing Chelsea bun needs. On some occasions, they'd make a long production of shaving. Aziraphale quite enjoyed a proper barber shave and they often recreated the experience at home, taking turns shaving one another with more sophisticated tools of the trade. It was as much as a loving domestic gesture as well as a highly erotic one.

Tiny miracles assisted in perfectly dried and coifed hair for both. They finished their morning routine by getting dressed in their usual garments. Sometimes they changed different bits and layers in their outfits, but they rarely ever strayed from their typical color combinations. Crowley simply miracled his outfit today, while Aziraphale stood in sock garters, boxers, and a vest in front of his wardrobe, quietly contemplating his shirts. "Which will it be today, love? Light blue? Sky blue? Baby blue?" Crowley quipped with a throaty laugh that ended in an awkward snort.

Aziraphale glanced at his demon sideways. "A delicate azure for today, my dear," he sniffed. "One wonders how you dressed so quickly, what with your perilously difficult choices between black, black, black, oh and dark black. It's amazing I manage to find you in the dark when it's time to undress you." He turned his perfect nose up into the air and slipped his shirt onto his body, slowly buttoning it up while peeking over at his demon from under his lashes. A smile curled at the corner of his lips, betraying his pretentious tone. Pulling on his pants, he pretended not to notice the snaky demon sauntering over to him. And he certainly didn't yelp when he felt long fingers grip his ass.

"Keep teasing me, Angel, and I'm going to have to undress you and teach you a lessssssson," Crowley hissed into his ear.

The angel pulled his braces over his shoulders, letting them go with a *snap.* He turned to face Crowley and pushed him up against the door of the wardrobe, grappling his hand's at the demon's lapels and letting his lips brush against the demon's ear as he whispered a low growl, "I happen to thoroughly enjoy lessons. Big fan of education, dear. I do wonder what you could teach me? "He fingered the edges of a lapel on Crowley's blazer. "I can be quite the studious pupil." After a playful nip at an earlobe, he turned away to don his favorite waistcoat and checked that his pocket watch was properly fastened and ready for the day.

Crowley braced himself against the door of the wardrobe as he felt the shiver of Aziraphale's words march in a straight - well, as "straight" as you could get in this particular demon's body (hint: not very) - line to his crotch. Oh, it was going to be a long day of an aching groin if his angel was going to be in a sassy mood. Who is he kidding, that is nearly everyday. Crowley sniffed and brushed down his lapels. He'd have to bravely soldier on through the day, stealing touches until he could find himself under his angel on the bed...or on the floor or up against the kitchen table...somewhere later. He took a steadying breath as the angel finally finished dressing. "C'mon, Angel, let's get you full of Chelsea buns and tea."

They made their way down the spiral staircase into the bookshop proper and out the door. Crowley donned his usual sunglasses as soon as they stepped off the doorstep. He delivered a wink to his Bentley, the other love of his life, as they crossed the street and headed into Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death. The shop was bustling with people on their way to work, sleepily ordering caffeinated beverages in hopes of a little wake up boost.

Nina was very busy behind the counter as she and her staff quickly served up pastries, teas, and lattes to their faithful customers. She noticed the pair of idiots right away, flashing a big smile. She never tired of seeing the two of them together, especially in recent months when she'd noticed them walking out of the shop with a skip in their step and an extra glow to their skin. Her own budding romance with fellow shopkeeper, Maggie, had rekindled her love of, well, love. She enjoyed watching Crowley and Aziraphale steal kisses, hold hands, offer gentle caresses and goofy-eyed love looks when they thought no one was watching. These fellows thought they had everyone fooled for years, but it had always been so obvious despite the fact that they hadn't been able to relax into their feelings for so long. She was happy for them now that they could be open and it made her giddy to see them act like a couple of teenagers on a first date.

"Oi! Take a seat, boys. I'll be right over with your usual!"

Aziraphale and Crowley sat at a table by the window, chattering about their plans for the upcoming days and the angel's intentions for the trade show. Nina popped over with a small tray containing Aziraphale's tea, plus cream and sugar, and Crowley's typical 6-in-1 espresso nightmare. "I'll be right back with your buns, gentlemen."

"I already had my fill of buns last night," the demon said with a sly smile and one perfectly raised eyebrow. Aziraphale squeaked under his breath and tried not to make eye contact with an obviously giggling Nina as she walked back to the counter.

"Crowley!" he admonished with a hushed breath. "Must you? Do behave!"

"M'just getting started. Day's young, innit?" He smiled. "Besides, where's the lie? I did have my fill of buns last night. Big truth teller, me. He took a big gulp of his monster espresso with a flourish. "Ah, now I'm ready to really start the day. Tell me, how can I help you get ready for the trade show?"

Aziraphale sighed and began to outline which books he'd like to pack up - with great care, please - when they were interrupted by Nina bringing over a plate with three delicious and warm Chelsea buns. Aziraphale's eyes twinkled and he rubbed his hands together, taking in the scent of cinnamon. "Oh, now look at these beauties. How scrummy! I can't wait to dig in. You always know the way to a gentleman's heart, Nina."

Nina beamed. She had only just started offering much more of her own recipes for pastries and other breakfast servings. The Chelsea bun recipe came down from her grandmother and she felt a special sense of pride when a gentleman with a such a distinguished palate as Aziraphale lauded her baking skills. "I also have a dozen tucked away in a box for you when you leave."

"Thank you my dear Nina," Aziraphale said as he flicked a napkin onto his lap.

"Better make it two dozen," Crowley piped up. "I've been helping him work up an appetite." He had his own eye twinkle to offer. He, Nina, and Aziraphale had developed a bit of a banter over the months and he found it fun to give a little tease to his angel while in the shop. This was foreplay, really.

"You have a way with words, Mr. Crowley." She looked at Aziraphale with a knowing smile, "I see why you keep him around," she teased.

"It's because I can do really weird things with my tongue." He winked.

At that moment, Aziraphale, who had just started delicately pouring his cream into his tea whilst trying to ignore the blush rising in his cheeks and ears, fumbled with the tiny pitcher and dropped it onto the table, leaving cream to spill out over the wood and drip down onto Crowley's lap. The shop became silent at the sound of the ceramic hitting the table and Aziraphale was aware of all eyes on them. "Oh...Oh dear. I'm so clumsy. I'm so sorry for the mess," he said as he grabbed at napkins with both hands to wipe up the table.

Nina ran over to the counter to fetch a better towel for him so he could help dry off a soaked demon lap. "You boys. I'll grab you a new tea" She shook her head and walked away laughing.

Aziraphale dabbed at Crowley's pants with fervor while the demon did his best to suppress a laugh. "I'm sorry," he strained through a chuckle, "I took that one too far, Angel." Another quiet laugh wheezed from his mouth.

Aziraphale stopped dabbing at the wet spot and left his hand on the demon's thigh, giving it a firm squeeze. He inched himself closer to Crowley so that their heads were nearly together. "I do believe I asked you to behave, demon," he growled, "wouldn't want to punish you. Hmm?" Not to be confused with an actual angry person, he pecked a quick kiss on Crowley's cheek. "Any eyes on us?"

Crowley craned his long neck to look around and checked within his mind's eye as well. "None," the demon answered.

With a wave of his hand, Aziraphale miracled the mess of napkins away, the towel found itself cleaned and folded on the counter, and Crowley's pants were as good as new. "Ah, it's all tickety-boo."

Nina returned to the table with a new cup of tea, cream and sugar already added, for the angel. "It's a miracle your buns survived all of that spilled cream, Mr. Fell." She turned her head quickly to look at Crowley, who was just beginning to smirk. "No!" She commanded, pointing at him.

Crowley shrugged. "I was just going to thank you, on behalf of Mr. Fell, for bringing over a new cup of tea." Big cheesy smile.

"You two," she laughed and returned to her spot at the counter. The crowd hadn't died down as the early work morning was in full swing and people needed their caffeine.

Aziraphale tucked into his Chelsea buns, occasionally taking a moment to moan his approval over the taste. They continued their discussion about Aziraphale's plans for packing up books and his serious book inspector tools and when he'd like to load up the car and leave the next day. Crowley guessed they had to be serious for a bit and get some actual work done and vowed to help Aziraphale. He picked at one of the buns and took a few nibbles, enjoying the cinnamon. The angel made quick work of the remaining pastries and they stood to leave. They carried their dishes to a little bin under a sign that said, "Dirty dishes here."

Nina waved them over to her spot and took three boxes from behind the counter and handed them to Aziraphale. "That's 3 dozen, luv. Based on the way you two behaved this morning, I have a feeling you'll work a bigger appetite than expected." She winked.

Aziraphale's mouth gaped open. "Thank," he gulped,"...thank you, Nina. I...I...I can share them with any visitors to the shop today," he laughed nervously in a high-pitched voice before shyly shuffling out of the cafe.

"We'll most definitely be closed," Crowley cackled and followed him out the door. Later, Nina would find her till contained an extra amount - exactly three times the amount of their order.

Nina had been right. Appetites would be worked up.

Once back in the shop, Crowley took off his glasses and set them down, eager to get to work. "Right!" He clapped his hands and then rubbed them together. "Where shall we start? Shall I whip up some boxes and help you pack?" He looked around and wondered what Aziraphale's meant when he said he had "a system" for choosing what to take to the trade show. Nothing looked like it was in a system.

Aziraphale stood quietly at his desk and put the boxes of treats down. He removed his jacket and neatly folded it onto the back of his chair. He regarded his demon, looking him up and down before lifting his chin in the air and staring at him with stern eyes. He pulled down on the hem of his waistcoat and walked slowly over to Crowley, leaving the demon to take a few steps back into the pillar. "You were feeling a bit cheeky in the shop just then, hmm?" He asked in a low voice, slowly dragging his eyes from Crowley's waist up to meet his bright amber gaze. He tucked a hand into Crowley's blazer, letting it graze a path from his ribs to his hip.

Crowley felt a little flush develop in his cheeks with a matching woosh making it's way through his cock. He held Aziraphale's gaze and swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. "Big cheeky fan, me," he breathed. Aziraphale's face was very close and he wanted to pull him even closer and kiss him. He wanted to put his hands all over Aziraphale. But that's not how this game worked. He smirked. "Was it too much for you, Angel?"

Aziraphale drew even closer, perfect angel nose nudging perfect demon nose, lips just barely touching, breaths intermingled. He continued to stare into his demon's eyes and lightly pressed up against his slinky hips with his own. "You know I like 'too much,' my dear," his voice still in a low husky tone. Both hands were on Crowley's hips now and he slid them back and down, lightly touching the demon's taut ass. "I bet you would like to see how much I like it," he breathed. "Now? Hmm? Right here?" He let out another exhale over Crowley's lips.

The demon shuddered. He knew Aziraphale noticed the growing hardness in his pants. His long legs felt just a little bit weaker than they had been only moments ago. He wanted him so badly. He wanted the angel to spin him around, bend him over, and take him until he begged for mercy, clutching at whatever he could get his hands on. He wanted to feel the angel's thick cock buried deep inside him, pounding him, and bringing him to the edge of the horizon. He swallowed hard. "Fuck, angel, I want you so bad right now. Please."

A wicked little smile spread onto Aziraphale's face. "You want to feel me inside, don't you? You want me to stretch that tight arse with my cock, hmm?" He trailed his lips so close to Crowley's neck, careful not to make contact, breathing against him. He felt the demon shudder again and relished at the sound of his shaky breath. "Mmmm. I would love that. " He caressed Crowley's ass, giving the slightest squeeze to one cheek, grinning as he elicited a small groan from his love. "I'd love to dive inside you and fuck you right here, up against this pillar." Another roll of his hips up against the demon's hardness. "I'd love to fill you with my cum and the make you stand here while it slides back out down your legs. He moved his lips to Crowley's ear as the demon gave a soft cry. "You'd like that, too, wouldn't you darling? I can feel that you're ready for me." He allowed for one small little kiss to an earlobe.

Crowley moaned. He needed to kiss his angel. He needed to be filled by him. "Y-yesssss, Angel. Want to feel all of you. " He wrapped his hands around Aziraphale's lower back. "Now. Please." His cock strained against his trousers, pushing into his angel, leaving a wet spot from the pre-cum that had leaked out in hopes of further release.

"That's a good boy," Aziraphale whispered. He planted a slow, light kiss on the demon's lips, gently biting his lower lip for a moment before releasing it and bringing his eyes to meet Crowley's again. Oh, this part was so hard, but he must remain strong - not such a hard task for the actual Guardian of the Eastern gate, right? - he knew precisely what he was doing to the demon. The lust in the demon's blown pupils was searing into Aziraphale's. He could fuck him right there if he wanted to. But...."Oh, it's such a shame, isn't it? " He fingered the silver tie hanging at the demon's chest. "There is much work to do and I'm afraid I'm right out of time. Tick tock!" Another soft kiss and a sly smile. "Perhaps a very good demon can be rewarded later." Kiss.

Crowley felt all the blood rush down to his cock and then to his feet. He was hard, weak in the knees, and his balls ached. "You fucking devil," he hissed. "When? When can I have you?" He wasn't above begging.

"Wait and see," the angel whispered and he planted a delicate kiss on Crowley's cheek before flashing his smile, which happened to be the most beautiful smile in the universe. He gave a not-so-gentle tug to Crowley's silver tie before releasing it. "Wait and see."

Chapter Text

Aziraphale tittered about the shop with a little notepad in which he was jotting down ideas for some books he may look for at the trade show. He glanced over at Crowley, who was still leaning up against the pillar, mouth agape and eyes closed. He'd been there for the past 7 minutes. Aziraphale smiled to himself. He was going to spend the rest of the day driving his demon wild, not giving in to his pleas for release until the evening. Oh, he had plans for that horny creature.

The idea of keeping his lover on edge all day long brought a hefty flush of warmth to the angel's belly. Crowley was always such a strong-minded and seductive fellow. Aziraphale often felt like a bumbling fool in his presence...a feeling that was not inspired by any actions or words on the demon's part. It was merely due to the angel's own insecurities. Yes, even divine beings deal with insecurities. Crowley was beautiful and tempting. He easily captivated humans and non-humans alike. The way he spoke and moved and looked at people was enough to melt hearts and resolve. Instincts, intelligence, and grumpy charm had kept the demon alive and mostly free of hell nipping at his ankles throughout the millenia. That such a sensual and quick-witted creature found Aziraphale remotely interesting or...attractive...baffled him. Yeah, yeah, the angel knows we are all created in Their image and blah blah blah, but he can't help it. His confidence gets challenged sometimes, okay?

When the romantic aspect of their relationship first blossomed and they began experimenting with kisses and light touches, they wanted more, but both were afraid to make the big move. When it finally happened - the first time they made love - they were both so nervous, bodies shaking, hands fumbling as they searched each other's skin. Aziraphale was particularly anxious that night, especially as they slowly undressed one another. His body was stronger than any human's and it functioned wonderfully for him. He had grown to love it, but some humans had not and they weren't always shy about stating it. Whispered words of mocking from humans, demons, and the occasional angel (Pre-Jim Gabriel had been such a dick back then, hadn't he?) entered his ears and took up residence in the far reaches of his brain. Those words would unexpectedly tickle his memory and leave his confidence teetering on edge. He knew the demon found him beautiful, but it wasn't until he saw the wonder and adoration in his lover's eyes on that first night as Crowley lay worshipping at his thighs that he truly felt it himself. They had brought each other to the edges of Heaven, giving themselves over to absolute pleasure, and a new fire grew within Aziraphale. He eventually felt more secure and embraced himself as a sexual being, finding a simple happiness in learning the ways in which his body was able to give and receive pleasure.

One of the new things he learned is that he rather enjoyed teasing his demon, bringing him to the edge and then withholding, making him beg and wait for that beautiful release. The idea of having that kind of control over such a luscious creature sent tingles down below his belly. He was amazed that, despite all of their years of encounters and familiarity, he and Crowley were still constantly learning about each other. There were always delightful new experiences to be had.

Crowley finally peeled himself away from the pillar after willing all of his blood to move back to his brain. Normally, he'd snake himself over the furniture and chat Aziraphale's ear off as he worked. That wouldn't do today. He needed to distract himself from what would be long and tortuous hours of erotic teases from his angel. "Right then, as I was saying, I can make up some boxes for you? Start gently packing away the books you've put aside?" He pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows in wait for the angel's reply.

"That would be most helpful, my dear. Thank you." He didn't even glance over at the demon.

Crowley let out a slow breath. "Ngk." He took off his blazer and draped it on an armchair. Aziraphale noticed he was wearing sleeve garters. Fuck. Those were hot. Crowley began helping, actually helping.

They worked in tandem throughout the morning into the late afternoon. Aziraphale would occasionally brush past Crowley, accidentally letting his crotch graze against the demon as he scooched by him among narrow bookcases and secretly smiled when his lover bit back a gasp. When he'd reach for a book on a lower shelf, he'd do a proper squat, to protect his back, of course, knowing that such a position showed off the shape of his ass and his thighs. He believed the move was what the youth referred to as "dropping it like it was hot." The demon fanned himself with his hands. It was most certainly an accident when Aziraphale dropped a book onto the ground - "Oh dear me. Such a klutz" - and then slowly - sloooooowwlllyy - bent to pick it up in front of a gawking Crowley, accentuating the juiciest ass the demon had ever seen. Cheeky. Crowley nearly passed out when Aziraphale decided to take a short break, sinking into his chair and slowly rubbing those incomparable thighs, letting his legs spread open just a little.

"Ooof," the angel breathed as he arched his head backward and closed his eyes, revealing his neck, "these muscles are getting quite a workout." He groaned an "mmmmm, that feels better," as he continued massaging his thighs. Crowley may have stopped breathing for a minute or twelve. It's a good thing he's immortal.

Aziraphale's teasing showcase didn't end at dinner. Oh no. The angel was sure to accentuate each bite with a filthy moan of approval, closing his eyes in ecstasy. And of course, of course, the bastard decided on a simple strawberry ice lolly for dessert. One wouldn't struggle to imagine exactly what he did with that, the way it stained the angel's lips red as he worked it in his mouth, taking long and slow licks. A suffering demon was left gripping the edge of his chair with white knuckles, legs trembling as he sat and watched, his throat squeezing against a whine as that cunning angel held out the dripping lolly and asked him, "care for a lick?" Oh please let this torture be over soon. They made their way into the parlour to watch tv and Crowley knew he wouldn't last any longer. The demon must make his move here.

He yawned dramatically, "M'beat, angel. Think I might turn in early. Join me?" He wiggled his eyebrows. FUCK! He actually just wiggled his eyebrows like Groucho. It wasn't exactly seductive. His brain had been melted to goo after an entire day of being teased into submission and now he was left without the power of his charms.

Aziraphale stifled a laugh. "I rather thought we'd take in some light entertainment," he gestured to the TV. "Look, that Mr. Bean fellow you love so much is on. Oh, I do enjoy him." He patted a spot next to him on the sofa with a welcoming smile. "Have a seat, dear."

He was enjoying this too much. Oh, just a tiny while longer and the two of them would be buried deep within each other, bodies heaving with breath, and crying out as they broke around one another.

Crowley complied and slithered onto the sofa and up against Aziraphale. He tried his best to remain calm and steady as he focused on Mr. Bean's butterknife swordfight with an imaginary bee. He could usually never get enough Mr. Bean and he concentrated so hard on the moving images in front of him, trying to meet Aziraphale's laughs with his, but all he could feel was the simmering heat of Aziraphale's body next to him as the angel shook with laughter. Fuck, he wanted to make him shake in ecstasy. He could feel electricity humming between them.

He couldn't take it anymore. He sat up and regarded his angel. "Aziraphale, I -"

"FUCK!" The angel interrupted. He could no longer hold on. In one smooth motion he swung his leg over Crowley's lap and sank himself onto the demon's thighs, facing him and planting a desperate kiss on his lips. "I tried." He ground his ass into Crowley's lap and made a desperate attempt to control the breaths that were coming out in shuddering gasps.

"Angel, I am going to discorporate if I don't get fucked. Right now. You made your point today. I'm a mess. " He wrapped his arms around Aziraphale, pulling him in for another kiss and matching the movement of his hips. Aziraphale's mouth tasted like his strawberry lolly dessert. Crowley was aching for his chance at a dessert.

"Need you. In me," he moaned.

Aziraphale stood up and pulled the demon up with him. "Do you think you can handle the walk all the way to the bedroom, my darling?"

Crowley's legs were shaking, his crotch was screaming in need, and his lungs were struggling to retain any oxygen from his short, desperate breaths. But he could definitely walk...no, RUN to the bedroom if needed. He'd skip if he had to. Anything to bring about the sweet relief of being filled and stretched by his lover.

He was about to turn to walk towards their room, but he considered his actions and offered up an answer, "M'too weak, Angel. Can barely stand. You've left me so desperate." He regarded Aziraphale, whose eyes lit up at his words.

Aziraphale grabbed Crowley by the shoulders and the back of his thighs, scooping him up into his arms like a groom carrying his bride over the threshhold. "I'm nothing if not a total gentleman. Off we go, my love. I've got you."

Crowley wrapped his arms around the angel's neck and popped a kiss onto his cheek as he let himself be carried to their bed. A small lamp on the night table cast a warm Amber glow throughout the room, reminding Aziraphale of Crowley's eyes. Aziraphale deposited Crowley onto the edge, standing over him, kissing him wildly. They wasted no time undressing each other and pulling the duvet off the bed.

Aziraphale stood in front of a seated Crowley at the edge of the bed. Using his knee, the angel parted his love's legs so he could get closer and work the buttons of the demon's shirt. Their movements were hectic and frazzled and it's amazing any of their clothes survived their frantic grappling and pulling. That's what miracles were for. They giggled as Crowley lifted the angel's feet one at a time into his lap, undoing the garters and pulling off the socks. Crowley then sat there, eye level with Aziraphale's belly, bringing his hands to wrap around him and caress the warm, milky skin. Aziraphale leaned over him to kiss his head and let his hands run up and down the demon's back. Their breaths were heavy in anticipation of what was to come. Aziraphale took Crowley's chin in his hand and tipped it up to meet him as he leaned down for a kiss. As their tongues danced together, Aziraphale brought his hands to cradle Crowley's head, softly running his fingers through the fire of his hair.

"You've been so good for me, darling." He kissed his forehead. "It's time for a bit of reverence." Another soft kiss pressed to Crowley's lips before the angel slowly sank to his knees in front of him.

Aziraphale knelt in front of Crowley, putting his hands under his thighs and pulling him forward just ever so to the bed's edge. He bit soft kisses along the demon's thighs, making his way up, dropping kisses and heavy breath where the thigh creased. His mouth was there, just in reach of a not-so-false idol that he was about to pray to and then devour. He looked up at Crowley, who was slowly trying to measure his breath, mouth open and golden eyes glowing behind his lashes. Aziraphale took hold of Crowley and slowly worked his hand down the hard length, letting the foreskin slide past the glans. Peekaboo.

"Turns out I did work up quite the appetite." He gently kissed the head and then down along the shaft and back up. He smiled and met Crowley's eyes again and dipped down to take him into his mouth in one full sensuous movement, slowly sliding his lips all the way down the shaft to the nest of dark ginger curls. He paused to take a deep breath there, enjoying the smell of his lover's musk. A strong pulse throbbed in the cock as he worked it with his tongue. He felt the demon's hands come to rest on his head as Crowley let out a long, low moan. Aziraphale slid his hands around the demon's backside, burying his fingers into the skin there and pulling him closer, causing the dick to slide further into the angel's throat. Crowley's fingers began working through the angel's hair. Aziraphale was aware of the drops of cum dripping from his own hardened cock as he tasted the demon's pre-cum in his mouth.

"Oh yessssss, that'sss it, Angel." Crowley hissed.

Finally, some relief. Aziraphale's skilled tongue working his shaft as the back of his throat greeted his glans was sending the demon's body into a shuddering overdrive. He wrapped his legs around the angel's back to hold himself up while using his hands to work through platinum white curls. His face was twisted in ecstasy, eyes squeezed shut as he held on as best he could so as to not cum too quickly after this day of intense build up.

Rocking his hips in little thrusts to fuck Aziraphale's mouth, he looked down to take in the sight before him. There was his angel, naked and debauched on his knees with his thick hard cock swinging against a perfectly plush thigh, head softly bobbing up and down. Crowley could see the glisten of cum that smeared on Aziraphale's thigh from the tip of his dick. His breath hitched and became faster and he let out a small cry as the angel continued to suck and lick. Aziraphale moaned like a grateful slut around his dick, sending the vibrations through him and nearly breaking Crowley. He cried out and fixed his gaze to the full-length mirror just across from them, next to the wardrobe.

As if the visual stimulation couldn't get any better, he studied the reflection of the back of his angel, head in Crowley's hands and moving up and down, soft curves along his back being gripped by the demon's long legs, beautiful plump mounds of flesh over what Crowley knew was a rather muscled ass, knees spread slightly apart making it easy to see the angel's balls and the head of his dick peeking out. His own body being ravished, the skin of his chest and neck and face a deep pink flush, his expression as his mouth opened to sob and to take in more oxygen, his red hair wild and nearly falling over his eyes. The sight was enough for him to fully lose it.

He tightened his grip on the curls, legs pulling the angel closer to him, muscles becoming strained. "Aziraphale!" he cried with a shivering breath. His belly tensed as he felt a jolt of electric flutters move through it. His cock began to twitch and pulse inside the angel's mouth. Low moans became higher and higher and he threw his head back just as his orgasm slammed through him, hips bucking into Aziraphale's face, his vision fading until he could only see pinpoints of light. His sobbing cry matched the convulsions that rocked through his body.

Aziraphale growled a moan around Crowley's twitching dick, savoring the sudden salty taste and heat as it coated his tongue and hit the back of his throat. He gulped much of it down with vigor, groaning in pleasure at the taste and feel of it in his mouth. The load was large and some escaped from his lips, painting Crowley's cock with thick stripes of white. He was keenly aware of the prickling pain in his scalp as the demon gripped frantically at his hair. It made his own cock twitch, aching to release. Crowley's legs gripped him and kept him in place as hips rolled toward Aziraphale's face, giving his mouth a good fuck. He held tightly to his ass, signaling that it was okay to keep bucking toward him. "Mmmmmm" he moaned again at the delectable taste of his lover. A long glide of his lips upward, he released the cock from his mouth with a purposeful pop! and delivered slow licks up and down and all around the shaft, cleaning off every last drop of cum.

"Scrumptious," he growled with his mouth full. He smiled, eyes bright and mischievous, at the panting mess of a demon in front of him, sweaty and flushed with arousal. "You remain the best thing I have ever tasted." He winked.

Crowley felt his body come back to Earth. He met the gaze of an angel with very wet, swollen, dark pink lips. A small little pearl of cum had settled just below his lover's bottom lip. Still gripping Aziraphale's hair, he pulled him upward as he leaned his own body down to kiss him, but first....he licked Aziraphale's chin, swiping over the errant drop of cum before pressing their lips together. An aftershock of pleasure rolled through him and he let out a desperate moan at the heady taste of himself on Aziraphale's tongue.

"You spoil me, Angel."

Aziraphale sank back down, resting his head on one of Crowley's thighs, looking up at his face. He was so fucking beautiful with a blush still in his cheeks, those gorgeous serpentine eyes, and a halo of red hair that was no longer contained in a neat coif, but was delightfully messy, with some stuck to his face with sweat. He glided his fingers over Crowley's other thigh, closing his eye and taking a deep breath, just being in that moment. He felt Crowley's own breath become more even.

Opening his eyes again, he looked up at the demon and smiled. He moved in closer, settling his lips just above the line of the demon's pubic hair, leaving a reverent kiss there on his lower belly. He steadied his hands on either side of slinky hips on the bed and pushed himself up with a dramatic groan, still keeping himself between Crowley's legs. Leaning down, he placed a kiss on Crowley's lips. Crowley reached out and began to take hold of Aziraphale's cock, fingering the foreskin that was hiding the crown. It felt so good and he wanted it to go further, but Aziraphale reached down and steadied the demon's hand.

"Not yet, my dear. I'll have mine soon enough. I'm not done with you." He held Crowley's head in both hands, kissing him deep and slow. "Will you get up on the bed for me? Hmmm? On your hands and knees? " Another slow kiss and then he broke to look into Crowley's eyes. "It appears I'm still rather hungry and you are still rather delicious." He licked his swollen lips. "May I?" He knew the demon was aware of what he was asking.

Crowley caught a breath in his throat before whispering, "Y-yes. I'm all yours, Angel." His eyes were pleading, diving deep into Aziraphale's blues. He began to shift himself backward onto the bed so that his head was just at the pillow. Heat began to swirl low in his belly again. Before he could roll himself over, his lips were met with an angel's and they worked together, tongues brushing again each other, teeth nipping at lips. With another moment of lustful eye contact, in which he knew his angel was asking permission, Crowley gave a small nod and turned himself over as Aziraphale sat back to give him room. He propped himself up on his hands and knees, readjusting the pillows under him in case he eventually needed to lean his head and shoulders down.

He felt Aziraphale shift on the bed, moving back to him. The angel's hands gently came to rest on Crowley's hips, caressing in smooth circles. Crowley knew it was as much a gesture of erotic touch as a reassurance that the angel was there and that the demon was safe and in good hands. As that swirling heat in his belly rose, Crowley began to circle his hips ever so slightly and then arched his back to let his bottom stick out a bit more for his love. He heard a hitch in Aziraphale's breath and knew the angel was about to get to work. Looking back over his shoulder and meeting Aziraphale's hungry eyes, he spoke in a low growl, "I'm all yours. Do your worst to me." He winked.

"Aziraphale grabbed fingerfuls of the beautiful ass that was in front of him. The way Crowley circled his hips at him caused him to swallow hard and strengthen his resolve lest he lose his seed all over the bed right then. A few more languid strokes to the demon's hips and ass for good measure and the angel leaned in closer. He kissed each cheek a few times, reaching forward through spread legs to give a quick pet to the cock he had just devoured moments ago. It was still damp and sticky and hot. He groaned. Bringing both hands back to the ass, he sank his thumbs into the division there, spreading him open revealing a perfect hole, surrounded by just a small dusting of the dark ginger hair of his demon's body.

A few more carefully placed kisses to cheeks and he brought his mouth closer to the hole, his warm breath on it causing the demon to shudder and swallow back a small squeal. A broad lick of his tongue, starting just where his love's balls met his taint and up and over the entire hole, tracing his entire crack up to his tailbone, left the demon writhing and moaning in a higher pitch. Aziraphale smiled. His demon never lasted very long with this, so he would be sure to savor it before Crowley came undone again. Feeling more precum leak from his own dick and drip onto his thigh and knowing it would become more difficult to hold back, Aziraphale repeated the motion of his tongue several more times, before bringing the hole to his singular focus, working his tongue back and forth and all around the rim of the demon. He lapped him eagerly and confidently, knowing Crowley was absolute putty in his hands at that moment.

Crowley arched his head back and gave a loud, high moan. "Aziraphale! That'sss it. Oh, I don't know if I can lassst very long." The words became staccato as he pulled in breaths.

Aziraphale's warm wet tongue was dancing in swirls on his hole, leaving similar swirls in his brain. Did he still have a brain? He wasn't sure because he was having trouble forming words and he was fairly certain he was melting into his angel and into the bed. Jolts rode out from his hole and outward, running currents down to his feet, out to his hands, through his belly and heart all the way up to his head. Over and over and over. The feeling spread in waves, not hard like ocean waves, but gentle and more tickly like a sheet in the wind.

"Fuck. Holy...holy fuck...some fuck. Fucking eat me, Angelphale," he was too far gone to properly pronounce names. He squinted his eyes shut and pressed his chin inward towards his chest as he gripped the pillows and lowered his head and shoulders down. Gasping, he let the currents of pleasure rock through him, a direct line from Aziraphale's hardworking tongue to every fucking nerve ending in his body. Aziraphale's steady hands worked up and down Crowley's legs and then up under his belly towards his chest as he lapped him up like melted ice cream.

Feeling exactly like melted ice cream, Crowley's legs began to shake. He circled his hips back toward Aziraphale even more and then rocked them back and forth, up and down, a counter action to the licking motion of the angel's tongue. He felt the rumbling on Aziraphale's tongue and lips as the angel gave a loud groan of pleasure. Aziraphale was making noises as if he was eating the most delicious and decadent cake in the world. And he was, as a matter of fact. Leaning on his elbows, Crowley plunged fingers into the pillows, pulling them away from him and then gripping at the sheet. His entire body was was prickling with an orgasmic heat and he was grabbing at anything in order to hold onto this physical plane. The physical plane where Aziraphale's tongue was giving him a thorough erotic lashing. He noticed his breathing start to heave before he noticed the static in his eyes. The trembling in his thighs grew, met by eager twitching of his untouched cock. Somewhere from his center, currents ripped through him, bringing him an intense pleasure that had him moaning, no - screaming, throat becoming hoarse as he called his lover's name on an unholy prayer. He was aware of a hand on his cock just as heated shots of liquid hit his inner thigh.

Aziraphale kept working his tongue on the puckering hole as he gripped the demons shaking thighs, feeling the orgasm roll through his lover. He could feel the heat in Crowley's skin prick to a higher level. The sound of his name being screamed in such a desperate, slutty way created surges deep in his pelvis that he mindfully tempered. It wasn't time for him yet. He reached for Crowley's cock, his palm wrapping around it just in time to catch some of the demon's sticky spend in his hand. Tongue still firmly lapping a hole, he saw Crowley through the rest of his orgasm until he slowly collapsed onto the bed, heaving with shaky breaths and moaning cries, his name repeated on the demon's tongue. When Crowley peeked back at him for a moment, Aziraphale pointedly licked the cum off his hand. A very naughty angel, indeed. Said naughty angel leaned over his spent, panting demon and kissed his lower back while caressing him along the sides of his torso. He moved a train of kisses up Crowley's spine until he reached his neck, stopping there to change direction and move kisses along the back of his shoulder. His fully worn out demon smelled like sweaty sex, semen, and fresh Earth. Aziraphale inhaled it like he depended on it for his breath. He placed a softer kiss to the back of Crowley's ear. Crowley turned his head in request for a kiss to his lips. Aziraphale obliged.

Crowley twisted himself around to lay on his back, pulling Aziraphale on top of him and savoring the weight of him. "Am I alive? Do...do I still have a body? I think I discorporated for a moment there." His breathing was still unsteady and heavy. He touched his own face with his hands, as if checking that his body was still there.

Aziraphale played along and patted Crowley's cheeks and then poked at his upper arms and chest. "You're all there, Crowley. Quite alive." He smiled. "Wait..." He reached down and laid a hand on Crowley's softening cock. "Oh yes, all present and accounted for my dear."

They both laughed into a kiss. Crowley wiped away some beads of sweat from Aziraphale's brow. "Would be a bit naff, eh? 'Here lies Crowley. Death by thorough tongue lashing of the most scandalous kind.'" Another shared laugh.

"Oh, that would be most tragic, my dear boy. Quite the pity." His eyes gave a little mischievous glow. "Especially since I wasn't done with you yet." He raised his brows.

Crowley made a sound that was a mix of a squeak and a choked gasp and a quarter of a snort. It was embarrassing and they shant talk about it. "Good fucking Go--good fucking someone. How much more can a poor demon take?" He raised a single eyebrow.

"Good fucking, indeed," answered Aziraphale. "You did so well by behaving after the coffee shop today. Such behavior deserves more than a little treat. You deserve to be thoroughly worshipped." He kissed his forehead. "Of course, it is all up to you." Aziraphale was still learning the difference between understanding when he automatically had permission and when he should ask. Crowley's old emotional wounds would take time to heal, if they ever did, and he never wanted to be too pushy even if he truly knew when Crowley was okay with it. "The good thing about me is that I'll always be here, ready to worship you at a moments notice. I rather think I'm a reliable fellow." He buried his face in Crowley's neck, taking another hit of that intoxicating scent.

Crowley ran hands through Aziraphale's hair. He hadn't been sure if he expressed it correctly, but he was so thankful that Aziraphale checked in with him, even if it made things slightly awkward for a moment. It took so much work to be in the spot he was in now, thoroughly devoured and ready for another round. He trusted his angel, which had brought them so far in their shared existence. Before he started getting too sappy in his head, Crowley tightened his grip in Aziraphale's hair, eliciting a questioning gasp, and moved his head so they were face to face. He gave the angel a quick, slightly biting kiss and set his gaze in the ocean blue eyes in front of him. With a sly smile, he hissed, "worship this demon, then, Angel. Fall for me." Aziraphale's eyes widened. They crushed lips in a hungry kiss as both of their cocks sprang back to life. Heavy breaths mixed together into open mouths. Crowley twisted himself back onto his stomach under the angel. Aziraphale sat back once again as Crowley rose onto his hands and knees, back arched and ass beckoning.

Aziraphale rose up, pressing his pelvis against Crowley's ass, grinding into him, his cock sliding up and down between cheeks that were slick from Aziraphale's skillful tongue work there. Their moans found their way together in the sweat-scented air around them. He ran his hands from Crowley's upper back down to his hips, holding on to them with a steadying grip as he prepared to line up and lube up. It was the smallest twitch of muscles in Crowley's lower back that got his attention. The tension was not in response to well-worked muscles over the last hours. Aziraphale recognized this. This was his demon bracing himself. This position was the most difficult for Crowley for...reasons. It brought him back to darker memories just after his fall, when the abuse and degradation were what truly damned his soul. Aziraphale always took great care to be mindful in their lovemaking, which was made slightly easier by how tuned in they were to each other and how they continued to learn. Just as they were now, when a slight tensing of muscles told Aziraphale all he needed to know in that moment.

He leaned himself over the back of Crowley to whisper into his ear, "My dear, I would love to see your face while I take you. It would give me great pleasure to watch us in the mirror." A kiss to his neck and he felt the tension dissolve out of Crowley's body. He wasn't calling attention to anything, just making a sexy suggestion, that's all. The truth remained known and unspoken between them in that moment.

Crowley remained on his hands and knees, rotating himself so he was facing the end of the bed and, thus, the mirror. Aziraphale lined up behind him once again, using his hands to pull Crowley up from under his chest so they were both kneeling for a moment. Crowley hugged his arms and hands over Aziraphale's around his chest and craned his neck back to meet the angel in a slow, gentle kiss. He brought one arm back around Aziraphale's head as they continued kissing. Crowley was eager to be filled - he had been craving it all day. He released Aziraphale and brought his hands back onto the bed, looking at their reflection in the mirror. Aziraphale ran his hands up and down the back of Crowley's legs and held his eyes in the mirror. Again, he was asking permission. Crowley nudged his bottom back into the angel's pelvis and licked his lips. He was very much ready for the next step.

Aziraphale leaned over once more to deliver a quick kiss and an, "I love you," to his demon.

Crowley answered by reaching for one of the hands at his hips and squeezing it. The angel miracled lube into his hand and slicked it up and down his cock and then around Crowley's hole. Keeping eye contact in their reflection, he guided his shaft and rested the crown of his cock onto the tight opening, slowly and gently pressing against it, waiting for an exhaled breath from his lover. Once that happened, he slowly began to press his way in, matching his breaths with Crowley's. Breathing together, he moved at a slow and deliberate pace, patiently following cues from the demon.

Crowley felt the pressure building against him and slowly within him as that initial stretch turned into the smallest hint of a burning sensation. It lasts but a moment for him as he adjusts the position of his hips, sliding his legs slightly further apart, to better meet Aziraphale. Slow and steady breaths keep him relaxed and allow him to open up to the cockhead easing into his body. It's the eye contact with Aziraphale, his steady protector and lover, that keeps him the most relaxed. He already feels slightly looser thanks to Aziraphale's oral attentions and that helps the head of the angel's cock easily glide through the ring of muscle there.

Warmth flooded into his lower back, working it's way into his pelvis. Crowley maintained eye contact, his jaw becoming lax, as his fingers pull at the sheet. He'll never tire of the sensation of Aziraphale gently entering him. A long, drawn out groan escaped from Crowley's chest. Aziraphale's hands moved from his hips and painted long strokes along his back, sliding alongside his ribs and then back up toward his chest where fingers found Crowley's nipples, tracing circles around them. A higher cry followed by a hiss of pleasure trail out of the demon. Aziraphale's cock slips further in and reaches it's final destination as he becomes fully seated in him.

Aziraphale leans over Crowley, kissing the back of his shoulders, an arm wrapped around his chest, one hand still playing with a hardened nipple, the other supporting himself on the bed. His lips end up at the demon's ear with a heavy breath. "Crowley..." he moans, his voice breaking before he can say anything else.

The demon turns his head back as Aziraphale leans in further, catching a deep kiss. They remain in their embrace for several minutes before Crowley begins undulating his hips into Aziraphale, inviting more movement. Aziraphale responds with slow thrusts, taking in the sensation of cooler air on his cock as he pulls outward countered by the warmth that swallows him as he thrusts back in. The head of his cock finds the swollen state of Crowley's aroused prostate, which quickens the demon's breath before he rumbles another heavy groan out of his chest.

Aziraphale pulls himself back up, hands at the demon's swaying hips, and watches his fleshy cock as it moves in and out of Crowley's arse, the blonde of his pubic hair in contrast to the deeper red of the soft, sparse hair that lines Crowley's crack and swirls around his stretched hole. He marvels at the sight of skin stretching as his pulls the base of the head out just a tiny bit and then the swallowing of the entire cock as he pushes back in. Their scents mix in the air, roses and sweetness, earth and sex. He regards their reflection, their faces lit by the lamplight and flushed pink. They are so beautiful. They catch each other's eyes and smile. Crowley reaches behind him, stretching as much as he can, to grip the back of Aziraphale's thigh and push him in further, signaling to the angel to quicken the pace. Aziraphale is quite happy to oblige. He pulls Crowley's hips to him, plunging his cock in further with quicker thrusts. His hands move up the demon's back as Aziraphale finds himself bending over him once again, ultimately bracing his hands on either side of Crowley, kissing at the freckles that are scattered over his shoulders. Crowley's skin is blushing a darker pink, giving an interesting contrast with his freckles, some of the lighter ones finding themselves temporarily disappearing in the flushing color of the flesh.

Crowley is grunting, watching himself getting fucked in the mirror. He fixates on the movement between his legs - his cock swinging back and forth and in little circles with each pound from Aziraphale's hips. The sounds of Aziraphale's whimpering mix with his own grunts and the sound of the sheet sliding against the mattress as Crowley tightens his grip on it. A faster pace of thrusts brings in the music of Aziraphale's splendid thighs slapping against the back of Crowley's. Crowley is mesmerized by the vision of his ass, slight as it may be, reverberating against Aziraphale, whose own belly moves in small shimmies with each pounding moment of contact. Grazes of Aziraphale's cock against his prostate leave him whimpering and catching gasps. He noticed milky fluid escaping from his dick as his prostate wakens and responds. He felt as if he is having mini orgasms, one after the other.

His legs began to tremble under him and his shoulders felt strained. He doesn't know if he can hold himself up and see his way through this round of pleasure. Slowly, Crowley sank down onto the bed, his legs splayed out behind him, belly coming to rest on the mattress. He is laying flat with his chest and head raised up, like a cobra ready to strike. Two hands grip at the edge of the bed as Aziraphale adjusts himself to meet Crowley's movement, slinking down with him and laying himself on top of his back, legs stretching back to tangle with the demon's and continuing to pound into him. Aziraphale's arms come up around Crowley's chest, one arm bracing him there, the other running along his love's arm, grasping at his hand. Crowley moved that hand from grasping at the bed and intertwined his finger's with Aziraphale's, holding him tightly.

They are a sight in the mirror and all of the resolve and control that Aziraphale has built up throughout the day is quickly faltering. The heat of Aziraphale's belly pressed against the heat of Crowley's back, all of their skin sheened with sweat, is enough to risk combustion. Or so it feels. The angel presses his cheek up against Crowley's and the two of them lock eyes in the reflection, watching themselves merged together, writhing and pounding. Aziraphale turns his face towards Crowley's and the demon answers by meeting his lips, the air from his mouth hot enough to burn Aziraphale's lips. Crowley's voice registers higher and higher as his prostate is now fully at the mercy of the length of Aziraphale's cock inside him. He feels gathering dampness under his own dick that's straining on the mattress, his body on fire with a near constant nerve-throttling orgasm. But more builds within him and he tightens his grip on Aziraphale's hand, switching between moans and cries and whines. Aziraphale's own grunting quickens, punctuated with small cries. He looks as Crowley in the mirror, utterly at his mercy and gripping at his hand as if letting go would make him fall again. The demon's face is twisted in an ecstasy and wonder. "Come for me, Crowley. I want to see you let go." He kisses his neck and trails his tongue to the top of his shoulder, leaving an impression of his teeth in the skin there.

Crowley dipped his head down and pressed his face into the mattress, letting go of a muffled scream of pleasure into the fabric and foam before arching his neck back again. A spark ignites in his core and explodes, sending shockwaves throughout his body as he is carried through his orgasm under Aziraphale, still holding onto his hand and keeping eyes focused together in their mirror reflection. Seeing the look on Aziraphale's face, full of sins - lust and pride - knocks another small orgasmic pulse through his body.

He craned his head back for a kiss from the angel and struggled against his panting breath. "I am thoroughly, thoroughly spent, Angel."

Aziraphale smiled as Crowley dropped his head, leaning it on their still intertwined hands. He kissed the back of his head, his neck, between his shoulder blades as he catches his own breath. He's still buried in Crowley, hard and pulsing.

"Keep fucking me. I want to feel you fill me. " Crowley's voice is weak and worn, but no less tempting.

Aziraphale rested his face in the nook of Crowley's neck and shoulder and squeezed his hand as he slowly rocked himself within his ass. The thrusts are gentle and languid and enough to send Aziraphale over his own edge rather quickly. Oh, finally. What starts as a slow roll turns into a seismic shift and leaves his entire body shaking as the waves move through him. Skin tingles and each nerve feels like a firework. He feels like he is hanging off the edge of the sky, exhilarated and slightly terrified. He is falling. He strengthens his grip on Crowley's hand to hold on and help brace his fall. He hears moaning and crying all around him and begins to realize the noises are coming from his own throat and he is, indeed, still on an earthly plane. Legs shaking and hand holding tighter onto the demon's, he spills himself deep within Crowley for what feels like half an eternity. "Crowley...I..." he can't manage to push out anymore words.

Crowley can feel Aziraphale's cock as it twitches deep within him, delivering spurt after spurt of fine angelic cum. He feels the force and warmth of Aziraphale's orgasm within. He cherishes the sensation. It brings forth a heaving cry from his chest while he focuses on the sight of Aziraphale's face, lost in absolute ecstasy as he is overtaken by the release, body rocked by small jerks until he collapses his head and shoulders down onto Crowley, his cries carried out in shaking breaths.

They lay together, letting their lungs learn how to breathe again, hands still clasped for a few moments. Aziraphale's lips return to the spot between Crowley's shoulder blades. They are so sweaty that their bodies slide against each other, causing Aziraphale to fall out of Crowley's ass a bit sooner than each of them would like.

The demon gives a sad sigh followed by a smile at the sensation of a few drops of his lover's cum escaping from his hole. He wills it to clench so he can hold onto that liquid love through the night. Aziraphale sits upright and Crowley feels strong hands eventually make their way from the top of his bum to his shoulders, stopping there to knead into his muscles before gliding back down. Adept fingers work their way into taut buttocks and the back of Crowley's thighs, legs, and feet. Crowley sighs and relaxes into the post-coital pampering.

After a good few minutes of massage, Aziraphale leans over and places a kiss to Crowley's lower back and then nudges him to turn over. Crowley's belly is sticky and wet from a mixture of his sweat and his cum. With a gleam in his eye, Aziraphale trails a finger through it and brings it up to his face. He drags his tongue up his finger as if he was licking off the drips from his earlier ice lolly and then envelops it with his lips, mimicking what he had done to Crowley a few hours ago. He miracles a wet flannel from the bathroom and used it to wipe Crowley down working down his torso to between his legs. Crowley's skin tingles with the feel of the cool air hitting the dampness left behind from the cloth. Another miracled clean flannel wipes down Crowley's face and neck. Aziraphale dropped the flannels onto the floor. They quickly end up clean and neatly folded back in the bathroom. A snap of his fingers produced a large glass of cold water. He cupped the back of Crowley's head to lift him up as he brought the glass to the demon's lips.

"Hydration is a virtue my dear. You worked hard tonight." He shared a few sips before placing the glass on the night table and then sank down next to Crowley. More snaps equal clean sheets and they both reorganize themselves to the top of the bed with pillows neatly in place.

The two lay facing one another. Crowley played with Aziraphale's hair. "You pulled a lot of tricks out of your hat tonight. The Marvelous Mr. Fell indeed." They laughed. "You certainly managed to turn your everyday household demon into a trembling bowl of jelly. Might not be able to help load up the car in tomorrow. My legs were turned to soup. My spine may as well be pulled taffy. And look at my arms." He limply waved an arm in the air. "They're noodles, Mr. Fell!"

"Comparing your body to foodstuffs is making me hungry. That said, I was all too happy to devour that meal tonight." They giggled into light kisses and embraced one another, pulling themselves closer. After a while, their kisses turned more serious and gentle hands caressed and explored curves and angles of their bodies.

"How are you so perfectly beautiful, Aziraphale?" Crowley whispered.

Aziraphale felt himself blush. "I'm a reflection of you," he whispered back. He noticed wetness begin to gather in Crowley's lower lids. "I love you, Crowley. Thank you for always trusting in me." He kissed Crowley at the top of his nose, between his brows.

Crowley blinked a tear. "Always, Mr. Fell. I love you." They continued with slow and deep kissing with the occasional break for a sniffle before dozing off to sleep, arms and legs tangled together.

Chapter Text

Aziraphale woke just as dawn was breaking. They were still face to face with arms and legs wrapped around one another. He pulled in closer to Crowley, dipping his head to rest at the demon's chest. He wanted to spend hours there, feeling his warmth and listening to his heart, but it was a big day for him. He has a Booksellers Association trade show and he'll be hard at work not selling or trading any books. They needed to be there early to set up before doors opened and schmoozing began. After a few deep inhales of his lover's scent, he began to unwrap himself from impossibly long legs and arms and got to work kissing Crowley awake. He still gave himself his moment of freckle worship and was sure to be watching as those golden eyes appeared from behind sleepy lids.

"Ughhhngk, Angel," Crowley croaked. He rubbed at his eyes and stretched before attempting to nuzzle himself into Aziraphale's neck.
"Good morning to you, too, dear boy. We have to dash rather early so we both need to get up." He rubbed up and down Crowley's arm. "Come on! Tip top! Time to start the day." He gave a playful spank to Crowley's bum.

Crowley rolled onto his back and whined like a toddler, "But you aren't even going to sell anything. Or trade, for that matter. You never do. Why are we even bringing boxes? We can stay in bed a bit longer if we don't have to pack up the car. " Whining demons are dangerous. Absolutely annoying, but utterly adorable and irresistible. "You can't just ravage my body for four hours straight and then expect me to get up at the asscrack of dawn and load up my car. I'm not even sure my bones work." He gave a wiggle to his arms and legs.

"Oh, I can and I shall, my dear." Aziraphale's stern voice was betrayed by his smile. He sighed dramatically. "Come on, then. We can be as fresh as a field of daisies in no time! Pip pip!"

Crowley snorted at the sound of this gentleman saying things such as "Pip pip!" and "fresh as daisies," as if he hadn't been tongue deep in his ass hours ago. He fucking loved how the world saw Aziraphale as a sweet, sometimes stuffy proper fellow and probably thought he was a bit of a prude, yet Crowley got to see such a debauched version of him almost daily and nightly.

Aziraphale sat up and swung his legs off the side of the bed. He stood with a theatrical stretch. "I already feel invigorated." A quick snap turned a naked angel with hair matted on one side of the head and a completely frizzed poof on the other into a well-dressed and refined gentleman.

"Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine," Crowley sighed, "just give me a few more moments, Angel. I have to remember how bones work." He rolled over and pressed his face into a pillow.

"While you are busy remembering how to move your corporation, I'm going to whip us up a quick breakfast. Meet you in the kitchen?" He clasped his hands together at his belly as he walked to the doorway. "Eggs? Toast? The Chelsea buns we brought home yesterday? All three?"

"I'll have whatever you are having." Crowley smiled as he slowly pushed himself up and ungracefully stood up next to the bed. It would take a few more moments to fully wakeup and regain his usual slinky swagger. Oh, he was a sight with sheet crinkle marks on his skin, stubble, just the tiniest amount of crusty drool at the corner of his mouth, and his hair sticking up wildly in the back - in a way reminiscent of a satanic peacock if you squint. "I'll meet you in the kitchen." A sleepy snap turned his tired corporation into his usually sleek and sharply dressed presentation. He checked himself out in the mirror before heading out of the room. He wore his usual tight jeans, black on black waistcoat over an ambiguously buttoned shirt, and his blazer with his signature silver tie. His hair was high and tight in a modern pompadour. Not a strand out of place. Adjusting his blazer, his mind flashed back to the reflections of last night - the back of his angel kneeling before him, hard at work, his own face, pulled into expressions of absolute pleasure as Aziraphale pounded him from behind, the lustful look in the angel's eyes as he spilled his seed into him. He took a deep breath and smiled at his reflection now. He was truly fucking happy. He wasn't sure if he actually deserved it, but he was going to enjoy that feeling. With a pep in his step that no one had better notice, he turned to the door and followed the smell of coffee to the kitchen.

Aziraphale had just finished plating up eggs and toast for each of them. There was a small plate with a few Chelsea buns in the center of the table, in case they got peckish after eating their main course. A cup of fresh coffee awaited the demon. Aziraphale poured himself a cup of morning tea. "Don't you look nice?" he said as they both sat down. They chattered about the coming day as they ate their breakfast and bonus buns. Once finished, Aziraphale gathered up their dishes and placed them in the sink. "I'll get that done when we come home this evening." he said. The dishes would find themselves completely washed and put away before anyone returned home. "Shall we get a wiggle on?" Aziraphale asked as he wiggled his entire body in demonstration.

"Demons don't wiggle, but, yeah, we should get a move on." Crowley sat up from his impossibly contorted position in the chair. "Let's go get your boxes into the car," he said as he put his glasses on.

They made their way downstairs to the shop and began the work of picking up boxes and bringing them outside to the Bentley. Once Crowley had loaded the last box into the boot, he closed the lid and made his way to the driver's side.

"Wait!" Aziraphale hesitated at the kerb. "I need you to help me with one more thing inside, please." He made his way to the door of the bookshop.

Crowley growl-sighed. "You don't need anything else, Angel! You don't even need half the stuff you packed."

"Oh, I assure you. I do need just a moment of help in here," he said as he held the door open. "Won't be long, dear fellow. We'll be out in a jiffy." He smiled as Crowley passed him and walked through the doorway.

Crowley spun around to face Aziraphale once the door was closed. He was about to make a sarcastic remark when the angel closed the distance between them rather quickly and brought him in for a long, sweet kiss. He tasted like Chelsea Buns and breakfast tea. Mmmmm.

Aziraphale pulled back, "Oh thank you. I hadn't kissed you like that enough this morning and I didn't want to go throughout this entire day without those lips on mine." Crowley dropped in for another soft kiss. "Thank you for indulging me, my dear." They made their way back to the car, waved to a Nina in the coffee shop window, and pulled away.

The ride was easy enough if you like illegal speed and near death. Crowley's adept, yet terrifying, weaving and knack for always making green lights got them through the traffic of the morning. Aziraphale knew he was always safe in the Bentley, but that didn't stop him from gripping the seat and swallowing hard to tame the butterflies in his stomach.
Once they arrived at the trade show, they got to work unpacking the boxes and bringing them in, looking around to find the table where Aziraphale would set up shop. The show hall, which was actually a hotel ballroom, was bright and full of tables upon tables and shelving units of various sizes. People bustled about as they set up their own tables and displays, the chatter loud, but not unpleasant. Aziraphale spotted his table and made his way over quickly with a demon trailing behind him. It was hard to sway his hips and look cool whilst awkwardly carrying boxes and trying to keep up with a quick-stepping angel who was weaving through people and displays the way Crowley weaves through the M25. Crowley heaved the boxes onto the table. "There are two more boxes in the car," he said. "Do you actually need them?"

"I quite think I do," Aziraphale answered. He smiled his beautiful smile, pulling at his fingers.

Crowley blew a breath past his lips. "Right. I guess I'll go get them, then."

"Oh! How kind of you to offer." He pecked the demon on the cheek. "Thank you so much, my dear."

Crowley flashed an unfriendly smile that certainly was not charming to the angel. "Of course." He swayed back out of the hall, thinking it would be funny if every single book in attendance suddenly found itself missing it's most climactic page. Chuckling to himself, he brought his fingers up for a wee miracle snap, but then dropped his hand back down. "No, " he muttered to himself. "I'll behave." He was as shocked as anyone that a large display of fire and brimstone books about the Second Coming kept falling over. "Oooh, that'll hurt sales. Shame." He smirked and continued walking.

When Crowley returned, he plunked the remaining boxes on the table. "Can you actually trade or sell - or whatever you book people do with other book people and your books - some of these so we only have to make one trip to the car when this is over?"

Aziraphale pretended not to hear him. After a quick angelic check-in determined that no one was watching and a snap, the table was magically and beautifully organized with a spread of rare and antiquated books. And cute little faery lights, which were absolutely not chosen by a demon. Like a siren luring sailors to their death, Aziraphale's display would attract all sorts of book dealers hoping for a chance to peruse and maybe even buy one of the famously quirky book seller's tomes. Aziraphale rubbed his hands together and made excited squeaky noises in anticipation.

Crowley couldn't help but smile at him. His fussy angel lover was just radiating with joy. Infectious. Sadistic. Pure. Crowley knew he was going to be booooooooored, so he gave his angel a peck and slinked away to check out the various shops that shared a street with the show hall.

Aziraphale was in his element as his day went as expected. There was no shortage of interested parties stopping by his table. He engaged them in discussions and they all oooh'ed and aaaah'ed over various volumes. Miraculously, no one seemed interested in taking any of his books. The shame. But they were very interested in three things that Aziraphale was exceptional at; translation, repair, and restoration. This is what Aziraphale came for. He was known far and wide for his ability to repair even the most threadbare bindings or to restore the battered engraving of covers. Fellow tradespeople marveled at how many languages he knew, even forgotten ancient ones. Aziraphale offered all of this because he was good at it and he was good at heart. These are skills he had actually honed by himself over the years and he was rather tickled with himself. Ok, he was proud. Very proud. He enjoyed helping his fellow bibliophiles. He barely charged for services. If he did, he noticed that any money exchanged found it's way back to the wallets and accounts of those who had paid him. Minus a pound or two for good measure. Now, an honest fellow might let you in on a secret. Aziraphale was an honest fellow, thankyouverymuch. You see, he'd take these books back to his shop to service them. When their original owners came to pick them up, there may or may not be a conversation about how long Aziraphale had been looking for just that very book and perhaps they could work out a deal. He didn't even have to be persuasive. He was just that charming. Smile.

Hours passed and Aziraphale was happily chatting with patrons when Crowley returned to the book hall. He saw Aziraphale at his table, doing what he does best, and smiled at the sight of the very happy and slightly sassy angel engaged in spirited conversation. Crowley decided to do a lap around the hall before bothering Aziraphale. This trade show was slightly better than others they had attended. This one at least had a wide variety of books on display, including modern ones. Crowley had gone with Aziraphale to trade shows specifically for the Rare and Antiquarian Book Dealer (TM) and he'd come home dusty and bored.

He snorted a laugh as he walked past the display of books on the Second Coming, still falling all over the place, still unsold. "Boring....boring.....boring...," he whispered as he walked past many tables containing many books that were just like the ones in the shop. Old and dusty. He stopped at a display of space and science fiction books. That was more to his liking. A small child stood there and struggled to flip through the pages of one of the books. His mum was distracted in a conversation with the vendor at the table. The book was large and heavy. Crowley knew it well. He helped the child by opening the book to a page containing a glossy, high definition photo of a nebula. One of his. He felt a pang of loss in his heart, but it quickly subsided when the child squealed a reverent "whoa."

The mum looked over. "Oh, darling, that's a big, big book and very heavy for little hands - and probably heavy on the wallet." She whispered the last part to herself.

"Did you know they have a kid's version?" Crowley piped up, pulling a smaller and easier to handle book off the table where it hadn't been a moment ago. "It's got many of the same pictures, but the wording is much more accessible for the younger ones. It's lighter, too." He thumbed through it and found a picture. Squatting to the child's eye level he pointed to the page, "See? This is the same picture in the other book. Isn't it beautiful?" Crowley asked. The child's dark eyes were wide and full of wonder. He asked Crowley a few space questions, which the demon was only too happy to answer, his voice soft and patient.

"I don't remember ever seeing that particular book," the vendor said. "I don't have many children's books at all."

"It's always good to have a variety to suit all needs. "Crowley chimed. He turned his attention back to the child, "You asked very interesting questions. That's a good thing." He patted the open book. "Never be afraid to ask questions."

The child flipped through the book in amazement. His mum pulled out her wallet to pay.

"It's not in my inventory," the shop keeper said. "Anthony J. Fell? I'm not sure I've ever heard of that author. Hmm. You know what? It's yours! Please enjoy it." His smile was warm and friendly.

"Thank you," the mum said to the vendor. "That is very kind of you." She turned to Crowley, "You are very good with kids. Thank you for taking the time to talk to him about space. It's his favorite subject. Say thank you, Miles."

"Thank you, friend." The child regarded Crowley with eyes as dark as the night sky. He proudly held his book to his chest and followed his mum, turning a few times to wave at Crowley before disappearing into more shelves of books. Crowley didn't know it then, but many years later he would see the same space-black eyes on the television as an astronomer named Miles received a Nobel science award for ... well, whatever sciencey things people who study nebulas do.

Crowley returned each wave. His heart was gripped with a bittersweet type of joy and feelings he couldn't quite identify. An empty feeling made itself known, but he quickly squashed it. Anthony J. Fell? Had he really miracled that name onto the book? Feeling something wet on his eyes, he started walking, looking for anything to distract him from complicated emotions. He wandered around the hall, glancing at his socializing angel now and then. He was distracted and in his feels when he came across a table full of movie and television show books. He thumbed through a Dr. Who fact book that was loaded with pictures, stopping at a photo of one of the doctors. The tall, lanky one in the Chuck Taylor shoes. Aziraphale loved that one. He smiled to himself and then something new caught his eye. Hidden under a stack of Marvel books, he saw the edge of a familiar pair of glossy red lips, the bottom lip held between the two front teeth. The Rocky Horror Picture Show Book. He quickly picked it up and flipped through the pages, memories splashing through his brain. He adored Rocky Horror. He thought back to a night in the 70's. He had seen the original play several times - adored it - and had gone to the theater to see the movie version. The movie bombed, but it was still drawing an audience. At some point during the flick, a nerdy fellow in glasses repeated his name, "I'm Brad Majors..." and Crowley yelled, "ASSHOLE" as loud as he could. The crowd fell into stitches. The next time the character repeated his name, he yelled it again. This time, he was joined by several others. He miracled a slice of toast and threw it at the screen the moment the sublime Frank-N-Furter uttered the words, "a toast, to absent friends." The crowd howled. Oh, the demon loved what became of the show through the years.

The goofy smile stretching across his face was interrupted by the bookseller piping up. "Ah yes, that is a first edition there, sir. A classic, if I don't say so myself. Have you ever been?" he asked eagerly.

"Many times, many times," Crowley answered wistfully without looking up from the pages. "How much?" After an exchange of money, Crowley took his bag with his book...and the Dr. Who book he picked up for his angel...and made his way back to Aziraphale's table.

Aziraphale was gingerly turning a leatherbound book over in his hands as a fellow rare book dealer looked on. "It's quite tattered and in terrible shape. I could certainly work on repairing it, but it'll take quite a bit of time," he said knowingly with just a hint of concern in his voice. "Are you sure you want to repair it? I could take it off your hands for a small price. I don't think you'll fetch much for it elsewhere even after repair and I've actually been interested in finding just this very edition. You see, there's a typo about two-thirds of the way through..."

Crowley leaned on the table and watched, unable to help the smirk that began to draw across his face. What a dichotomy. Here, this evil hell fiend had just inspired the love of the stars in a young child and got them a spiffy free book. And then there was this pure heavenly angel, lover of and friend to humanity, tempting a fellow bibliophile out of a book. "Funny old world, " he muttered.

Azirphale was successful in his venture. Crowley gave a snort at the resulting shoulder shimmy that broke lose in his angel as he placed his new acquisition into one of his boxes to take home.

The trade show began to wind down and booksellers began packing up their wares. "You actually bought a book?" Aziraphale asked, pointing at Crowley's bag. He made a show of stacking his books in boxes for anyone who may be looking before a snappy miracle neatly packed them away.

"Yeah, I got a little something for me, but I also found one for you. Warning: it's not old and dusty." He produced the Dr. Who book and flipped to the section about Aziraphale's favorite doctor. "Look at this. A whole big section about the tall, lanky, nerdy one that you like."

"Ahhhh, yes, I do enjoy watching this one. I like all the Dr. Whos, but this fellow was such a special one. Lovely man, too." He traced his fingers over the image of a sharp, perfect jawbone that reminded him of his lover. Perhaps that is why he enjoyed that particular Doctor so much.

"Be hotter as a ginger." Crowley gave a croaky laugh. Nerd.

"So, what did you buy for yourself?" Aziraphale tried to peek into the bag.

"You wouldn't like it." Crowley checked in to be sure no one was looking. Everyone in the hall was preoccupied with something else and had no time to look Aziraphale's way. Another snappy miracle delivered boxes of books to the boot of the Bentley and left the table bare. They began walking out and Crowley pulled his book out of the bag. "You'd be proud of me. It's a first edition." He beamed and held the book up for Aziraphale.

"Ah yes, that show. You do enjoy it. Very much your style. Don't think I am unaware of the influence you had on the audiences." He pursed his lips and gave a sideways glance to his demon.

"Crowley stopped in his tracks. He was truly touched. "You think so?" His questioning voice was high and nearly cracked.

Aziraphale smiled at the near voice crack. "I know you saw the theatrical production several times and then more when it came out on film. It was quite interesting how audiences behaved when a certain demon was in attendance. I dare say the audience participation bears the hallmark of a certain wiley agent of hell I know." Aziraphale had seen it once and felt that was adequate. He didn't dislike it at all. Quite the opposite. But it somehow made himself feel strange as if there was part of him that wanted desperately to be free and absurd like the show. "I'll have you know, my dear, that I was an early adopter of the audience participation model. You'll remember when Shakespeare debuted Hamlet?"

"Oh yes, I remember. Almost exactly like Rocky Horror." Crowley couldn't help but smile softly at his Aziraphale. A breeze was just picking up as they exited the doors of the show hall. It was still mild, but there was just the smallest hint of Autumnal chill on the edges of the breeze. The late afternoon September sun lazily cast a warm glow and Crowley's breath was stolen for a moment as he took in the sight of his angel, backlit and awash in a full body halo. Divine and beautiful. He gently took Aziraphale's hand as they made the walk back to the car. Crowley had parked a bit further down the block. Sure, a miracle could have opened a spot just outside the show hall doors, but then he wouldn't get to take this little stroll, hand in hand with his angel.

Despite the hint of chill in the air, Aziraphale was feeling warm and fuzzy. While they had certainly mastered all sorts of familiarity behind closed doors, they were still working on...what were they called? Ah yes, the public displays of affection. Crowley called them "PDA's." It's not that they felt there was anything wrong with displaying affection. They did hold hands on occasion and gave each other little kisses - pecks - here and there. They were just simply shy. They were warming up to it more, though, just as Aziraphale was now warming up throughout his body thinking of how he must look to other folks, holding the hand of such a perfectly handsome gentleman. He couldn't stop the broad smile that grew across his face as he squeezed Crowley's hand. His excitement was augmented when he noticed the sign for a bakery across the street. "Oh look! How about we stop in and get just a little bit of dessert for the ride back."

"We should probably get dinner at some point? Yeah?" Crowley loved taking him out for a meal. He loved taking him out anywhere. Dates, one could call them. They had fallen into a rhythm of doing "couple things" - as Maggie and Nina had encouraged - like date nights (or days, mornings...) and they were enjoying it. Much like Aziraphale, Crowley took delight in being seen as a couple when they were out and about.

"Of course, dear. First, just a nibble to keep in the car in case I get peckish on the way to dinner."

Crowley let himself be pulled through a weave of cars across the small street and into the bakery, the door jingling as they opened it. He watched in amusement as his excited angel perused through confections of all shapes, sizes, and colors. A little jolt of love smacked his heart as Aziraphale wiggled his fingers, clasped his fists and then repeated the motions several times as he considered the choices. The scary serpent demon in all black was positively delighted at the adorable sight. No one had better notice if they knew what was good for them.

Twenty minutes, two small boxes, and a little bag of sugary delights later and the two were back to walking hand in hand to the car. "You know," Aziraphale said, "I caught a few glimpses of you talking to a little fellow at the trade show. It was rather heartwarming. Did you know you always melt and glow around children? You're always so patient with them."

Of course Crowley knew. After his interactions with Aziraphale, one of the few things that brought him happiness in his millennia of hellish servitude were the times he was able to interact with children. Midwife, nanny, teacher, nurse, knight in shining armor, random helpful dude, and one weird week of being a Cricket coach - Crowley knew he had a soft spot for kids and babies. "They're naturally curious. And this world, much like another world I know, tends to squash that and tries to turn them into adults too quick or forces them to be what they don't want to be. It's very reminiscent of..." his voice wandered off. He swiped at his eyes under his glasses. Must have been the dust from all those books.

Aziraphale freed his hand from Crowley's and wrapped his entire arm around the demon's waist, giving a squeeze and pulling him closer just as they reached the Bentley. His eyes were soft and sympathetic as he regarded Crowley's face. His beautiful, brave demon. He could see the hint of sadness beyond the dark glasses. He'd meant to compliment his lover because seeing him interact with kids was always such a wonderful thing to witness, but he felt sorry that it reminded him of more painful moments. He gave him a small peck on the cheek and...oh fuck it...he took Crowley's face in his hands and brought him in for a soft kiss on the lips right there in front of the Bentley (who has witnessed way more than kisses) and the crowd of Londoners walking by. "I'm sorry, Crowley," he said as their lips pulled apart, "I only meant to share a happy thing I saw. I didn't mean to hit a sore spot." Another soft kiss.

" 'S'okay, Angel. I promise. It's a happy thing for me, too. Thanks to you, I get to have more of these happy things in my life. And I get to keep those moments. They're mine." He kissed Aziraphale once more before opening the door of the Bentley for him. Once they were both inside, they shared more kisses and the mood lightened once again. "Talking about moments, that was quite a workover that you gave to the gentleman who merely wanted a book repaired. Remind me, which of us is the demon? Because that was quite the temptation, fiend."

Aziraphale mocked an indignant tone. "Workover? I did no such thing. I was merely honest with him. The book is in terrible shape and my repairs, short of a miracle, can only do so much. " He sniffed. "The fact that it happened to be an edition I had been looking for is just a mere happy coincidence. I'm offended that you believe otherwise." He jutted his chin out and turned his perfect nose upward. He tried very, very hard to hide a smile.

"Right. Well. It also turned me on a bit. So there's that." He started up the car and pulled away from the kerb. "Ready to head to dinner?"

"Naturally," said Aziraphale.

They took off, weaving through unsuspecting cars and people. Red lights stood no chance. They fully intended on heading straight to dinner, but found themselves turning down a quiet road that edged along a large farm field, where the Bentley rolled to a stop. A few moments later, the untouched desserts were the only thing remaining on the front seat, as an angel and demon were enjoying a dessert of their own making in the back. Somehow, the road remained deserted as anyone about to turn down it found themselves suddenly remembering they needed to be elsewhere. It's a good thing, for if someone drove past, they would have had quite the show had they been able to see through the fogged up windows. In the back seat, trousers and jackets cast aside, Aziraphale sat astride Crowley, his plush ass bouncing upon the demon's thighs. Their orgasms burst through them with such force that Aziraphale gripped the seatback hard enough to make the Bentley groan in response. Crowley held tightly to Aziraphale, bracing his feet against the floor, as he delivered a robust burst of seed into his ass. Panting breaths and kisses were exchanged for a good few minutes before the two dissolved into gentle shared laughter. Aziraphale leaned into Crowley, his head resting alongside the demon's as they shared a long hug before he pulled back to kiss him on the forehead. And the cheeks. And the nose. And the lips. A few snaps from both of them and trousers were back in place and the backseat was as good as new, the Bentley's dignity in place. They climbed back to the front and Crowley began the drive to dinner. Shy and good humored smiles were passed back and forth during the drive.

At dinner, Crowley's face was stuck with it's usual goofy grin as he watched Aziraphale finish his meal. Oh yes, the demon had eaten. He usually finishes faster than Aziraphale, who savors each and every bite. Maybe that's on purpose.

The waiter stopped by to refill their glasses. "Are you gentlemen celebrating anything tonight? Or is this a date night?"

Crowley beamed inside, and truthfully, outside - but don't let him know it was obvious - that the waiter saw them as a romantic couple and not just two random folks having a business dinner or something entirely platonic. People they didn't know saw him, a lowly fellow, with this utterly gorgeous angel and recognized that the two of them belonged together. The angel chose him. He loved it. He was also still a bit of an ass, though. "My boyfriend here - " he paused to check that Aziraphale was okay after he noticed him choke his sip of wine - "swindled someone out of a very old and very boring book. So, we're having a bit of a date night to celebrate. As you do."

The waiter was quick to play along. "That's not surprising. You'll find that our establishment is very popular with book - especially the old boring ones - swindlers." He gave a wink as he walked away.

"Okay there, Angel?" Crowley half-ass patted his back. It's not like he could actually die from choking. A bonus in several situations. Smirk.

Azirphale took a moment to collect himself, the feel of the wine still burning the back of his throat and his entire esophagus. Boyfriend. Crowley had said that. Out loud. To a person. In public. He couldn't handle all the sensations that happened the moment he heard it - his skin tingled, butterflies swirled among his ribs, he had a hot flash like he was in menopause, his heart both swelled and lept, and his body forgot how to swallow a liquid. It was a lot. "You called me your boyfriend," he whispered. His shy eyes betrayed the pride he felt at this gorgeous creature next to him using that word. He chose him. He loved it.

"Uh....girlfriend, if you prefer? Paramour? Lover? Is there something else I should use?" Crowley asked. "Our people already know of us as a couple." Our people referred to Maggie and Nina. Madame Tracey and Shadwell. Anathema and Newt. Muriel. The Them. Fellow shopkeepers and street traders of Whickber Street. Plus a few other friendly familiars. Not a single one of them had been surprised when they announced they were a couple.

"I'm just shocked - and very happy, mind you - that you said it out loud to a stranger in public." He took several short, excited breaths and smiled. "This part is all so new and exciting." He paused "Well, all of it is new and exciting."

Crowley mouthed many syllables together for a moment. "You fought...we both fought...We fought so incredibly hard to be able to have this, Angel." His face was soft, but his tone was more serious. "I'm not going to take it for granted. I may take things slow at times and it's always been hard for me to be open, but I intend to enjoy every.single.moment with you. I want to celebrate that with you. I want other people to witness it." Seeing the wetness appear in Aziraphale's eyes, he leaned over and took him into a kiss.

The drive home was quiet. Crowley drove just ever so slightly slower than usual and Aziraphale leaned his head on his shoulder. Once at the bookshop, they brought in the boxes of books and desserts. Aziraphale decided he'd wait until the next day to restock everything.

Upstairs, Crowley decided to forego their television watching and asked the angel to join him in bed instead. They changed into pajamas and climbed under the covers. Legs puzzled together under the duvet as they lay facing one another, hands switching between running along backs to being clasped together. They whispered to one another about love and promises, taking breaks now and again for kissing and wiping escaped tears. Crowley requested they take their tops off, preferring to cuddle skin to skin as he relished the warmth of their bodies touching like that. Aziraphale held him close, cradling him and brushing fingers through the demon's hair, soothing him to sleep. It had been a busy, but very simple day, yet he was aware that the demon was awash in many different emotions. He could always sense it. Crowley began to doze, the last thing swimming through his mind before sleep sunk in was the name his miracle invertedly put on that child's book. Anthony J. Fell

Chapter Text

As the pages of September flipped closer toward the new chapter of October, Crowley and Aziraphale kept busy with a budding project. Their cottage in the South Downs. It had fallen into their lap *wink* after their near-ending. A quaint yet roomy home not far from the sea and surrounded on all sides by lush gardens in need of a green thumb and some TLC, it would eventually be their home away from the home of the bookshop. Crowley had one hell of a moment when he first arrived and saw the gardens. When he had made his way to the back of the house, he nearly fainted at the sight of a huge greenhouse. It needed repair in a few spots, but it was mostly in great shape.

The house itself was quite charming and in need of some love. The two had spent months bickering over whether or not they would use miracles to renovate it or rely on their own handiwork along with that of the humans. In the end, they decided to take it slow, carefully planning paint colors, wallpaper, bookshelves, furniture. Miracles were always handy, but Aziraphale found that there was something nice about doing things just as the humans did them. "Can't beat quality craftmanship," he'd say. Both of them agreed that they wanted to be connected to the surrounding area and the people who lived there, much like they were in Soho. They'd hired local folks to come in and effectively gut the place. The flooring would be restored. Most appliances would be updated. Electricity, plumbing, heating and air would be perfected. Anything in need of repair would be addressed.

They argued often over paint colors because there was absolutely no way in heaven or hell that any room would be all black. And Crowley whined about the prospect of the entire house being yellow on the inside, even though he knew the exact reason Aziraphale loved that color. Crowley didn't actually want to paint a room all black. His dark and concrete home in Mayfair had been the perfect spooky lair at one point, but he was beyond that now. It didn't stop him from tormenting his angel. He knew a good bicker session would lead into an even better fuck session. Aziraphale was in on this game. They had Christened almost every room of the house.

That's what they were doing in this moment, as Aziraphale held Crowley, whose ass was perched on a large windowsill that overlooked part of the greenhouse and the gardens, sinewy legs wrapped tightly around the angel's waist in a criss cross. Aziraphale was buried deep inside him, drawing out loud cries that echoed through the empty room and into the rest of the house. Their clothes were crumpled at the angel's feet. One hand gripped the sill for purchase and the other clawed into the angel's shoulder. "Fuck me, Angel," he growled. Before this, they had fought over curtains of all things. A natural aphrodisiac.

Aziraphale was hard at work, his glutes working overtime with each thrust. He held onto Crowley by his thighs, driving himself as far into him as possible as hard as possible. Oh, he was still angry. His window dressing opinions were most certainly valid and the demon didn't (thrust) have to be so bitchy (thrust) about them. But he had been and, thus, needed to be reminded about his behavior. A familiar dance for them. There was a pull deep in his pelvis as his orgasm closed in on him. He tried to ride it out, not wanting this to be so quick - they'd only been at it for 5 minutes - but his body had other plans and propelled him through his pleasure. He cried out a long whine and collapsed into Crowley, grasping now at his lower back with one hand as the other leaned against a window, leaving a handprint, while his cock pumped his load deep within the demon.

Crowley grabbed his face and pulled him in for a sloppy kiss. Maybe a bit too hard as they both winced when nose bumped against nose. They remained with their faces pressed together, not saying anything outside of their panting.

Aziraphale let his still engorged cock slip out of Crowley. A small trail of cum followed, dripping out of the demon's gaping hole onto the wall and floor. The angel knelt down between his legs and took Crowley's straining cock into his hands. Summoning a deep moan from his lover, he drew his tongue in a heavy lick from his perineum, stopping to give a moment of attention to his balls, and all the way up Crowley's cock.

Crowley writhed. Like Aziraphale, he hadn't wanted this to be so quick, but here they were. He couldn't hold out for very long. Still playing the part of bitchy demon, he pulled at Aziraphale's hair, looking him in the eyes. "Take it all in." He guided the angel's head as Aziraphale wrapped his lips around Crowley's cock and slowly let them glide down the shaft, taking every last inch of him into his mouth and throat until his nose was buried in an untamed thatch of auburn hair. Crowley went wild at the feel of the hot wetness of Aziraphale's mouth. He gave a high-pitched moan as a skilled finger massaged his perineum, sending waves of pleasure through his prostate. The hand in Aziraphale's hair tightened it's hold among the sweaty curls and he squeezed his thighs against Aziraphale's head, effectively supporting his body as he leaned against the sill. He slowly bucked his hips to fuck Aziraphale's mouth. A dirty moan of delight and eye contact from the angel was the last straw. His body convulsed to meet the rising waves of his orgasm. Hips rolling wildly, he arched himself backward, bringing his hands up to brace against the window jamb on either side of him to keep from falling. With heat flushing out of him and stars dancing in his brain, he gave a wild cry that bounced off the walls of the empty room. Crowley was pawing and bracing his hands onto the jamb for dear life as he tried to hold himself up despite his shaking corporation.

Aziraphale kept his lips tight around the shaft, swirling his tongue and drinking the load down as each spurt hit the back of his throat. Most of it, anyway. As the last twitches emptied Crowley's cock into his mouth, he held a little cum in place. Opening his mouth slightly, he showed off the pearly white liquid washing over his tongue. He felt Crowley's body twitch a few aftershocks after the demon moaned his name in such a filthy manner at the sight of the load in his mouth. He stood up, leaning into Crowley to kiss him deeply, thrusting his cum-coated tongue into his mouth. A growl built up from low in his throat at the unashamed sinfulness of it all.

Crowley grunted around Aziraphale's tongue, his head dizzy with pleasure after feeling and tasting his own salty cum being delivered into his mouth. It was such a pornographic act for such a pure angel and he fucking loved it. He ate it all up - figuratively and literally. He swallowed it down. They continued kissing passionately for a few moments until Crowley could no longer ignore the annoying sensation of the windowsill jutting against the back of his ass.

Aziraphale gently lowered him down. This was a moment for snap on re-dressing and clean up. Snap, snap, snap and clothes were back in place. Sweat and other fluids were whisked off their bodies, off the windowsill, and off the wall.

"This doesn't change my mind about curtains in this room, Angel." He minded the buttons on his shirt and adjusted the waistband of his trousers. "You can fill the entire rest of the house with floral and tartan for all I care. This is my plant room and I will make all the decisions."

"Very well, my dear," Aziraphale sniffed. He wasn't going to argue now that he had his afternoon delight with the demon. "Anything else we need to do while we are here today? We've already fought over the floors in the bathroom, argued about curtains, and fornicated on a windowsill. What else is on your agenda before we head back to London?"

"We originally intended to measure for furniture, Angel. You even brought your fussy little tape measure," his tone was light and joking. "Maybe we should actually do that or we can fight about the light fixtures in the guest bedrooms instead. I'm open to either, really."

Aziraphale clicked his tongue. "I suppose we must. I'll have you know this particular tape measure is an original Chesterman. I acquired it in 1917 in Sheffield. Hasn't let me down since." He was very proud of the leather and brass object in his hand.

"I love it when you talk dirty to me." Crowley quipped to rolled eyes from his angel.

They measured a few spots in each room and discussed plans for set up, types of furniture, and which rooms would be guest rooms. They had already chosen their bedroom, the library, and Crowley's plant room. There was no more bickering, just thoughtful discussion.

One of the rooms brought feelings bubbling up in Crowley. The color accents on the wall made it obvious that this had once been a nursery. When they first viewed the home, they commented to one another that they could feel the happy energy that has filled it over the years. Children were raised here in love and happiness. It oozed through the walls and was part of the reason they immediately fell in love with the cottage. Crowley had yet to understand why he had been feeling so many empty pangs when he thought of babies and children or when he interacted with them. Angels and demons didn't have families of that sort, so how could he feel empty? He and Aziraphale were a real family, just as they were. They were each other's universe. Yet, each time Crowley passed the room with it's child-like energy and color accents he couldn't help the feeling that gnawed at him. He did something he had perfected over thousands of years. He pushed it down and ignored it.

"Shall we grab dinner nearby or wait until we get back to London?" he asked. Aziraphale was food motivated and mentioning dinner to him would get him moving out of the house. And it would move Crowley away from his confused feelings.

"I suppose we should get more acquainted with the local cuisine." Aziraphale looked around. Are you sure you are ready to go? Do you need to do anything else with the garden?"

"I'm good, Angel. I've got to settle on my exact plans for the garden and get to work with prepping it for winter the next time we're here. Let's head on out," he said as he made his way to the door.

Outside, the sun had made it's way to the horizon and the air was nippy. They stood together and regarded the house, itself a symbol of all they had been through and all that was now promised to them. It was a little worn down and in need of restoration, but it was solid and on a perfect foundation, ready to be renewed and filled with love and laughter and warmth.

They settled on a local pub after they noticed Pride and Trans flags in the window. Over dinner, Crowley discussed his plans for his gardens, detailing the various plants and flowers that he planned to put in, as well as a vegetable garden. He was still deciding on the exact details of his greenhouse. He knew some veggies and fruits would go in there, but there were so many other plants that would flourish there year long. Many of the plants from his Mayfair flat would be moved into it. He noted that there were already a few apple trees within the gardens and they seemed healthy, but he'd have to wait until Spring to know how they'd produce. Without a miracle, that is. He was keen to explore the garden more and to see what dormant plants would spring forth in the warmer months. He could talk about it for hours. And he did.

Aziraphale adored the way Crowley would light up when talking about his plants and their new gardens-to-be. Over the past months, he had gently begun to convince him that he didn't need to be such a dick to his plants. Crowley seemed to warm to the idea, though he still became grumpy with them on occasion. Most of his plants were still miraculously thriving, if they knew what was best for them, at his flat as they awaited their move to the South Downs. Crowley had brought a few newer plants, who were still young and learning how to behave, to the flat of the bookshop. They would always remain at the bookshop, where they had settled nicely.

After dinner, they made the long drive back to Soho. Travelling up the M23, they shared what had become a running joke - a laugh at a town called Crawly. The name of the town was ancient history. Crow's Leah, it had been. Named for an abundance of crows that had been noted in the area well over a thousand years ago. It had nothing to do, Crowley insisted, with the old name of a demon who may or may not have attracted said crows to annoy and frighten the Saxons who settled there.

The conversation on their drive home revolved around their plans for the week. Aziraphale was especially excited for an upcoming visit to the theater where they'd be seeing Macbeth. Crowley had produced the tickets - very good seats, mind - a few days prior as a gift to his angel. They'd seen Macbeth many times since....well, since it first opened that fateful night in 1606 when Shakespeare himself stepped in to play Lady Macbeth after the original actor died. This particular showing was more modern, dark, and very scaled back, which interested Crowley. He acquired these particular tickets, though, specifically for his angel because Macbeth's actor was played by none other than that lanky Scottish nerd that Aziraphale fancied. He was a very hot nerd - Crowley would agree on that.

"Speaking of the theater," Crowley began, "I read an advert in the newspaper for a local playhouse. Community theater, you know?"

"Consider my interest piqued. I do love supporting local creatives." Aziraphale was nothing if not a patron of the arts.

"Right. Well, the article said they were doing a run of Rocky Horror Picture Show. Well, just Rocky Horror Show in this case as it'll be the theater version with real live actors and stuff." His voice was nervous, rambling. He knew it would take a little bit of that demon temptation magic to make Aziraphale feel comfortable with this. So he thought, anyway. "It's going to be the whole thing, " he became more excited and waved his hands about, "the show and the audience participation. People dressing up. Yelling things. Throwing things. Utter chaos...but theatrical. Classy. It'll be great." He smiled and looked over at Aziraphale. "What do you say? It might be fun to let your hair down. Yell an obscenity outside of the bedroom. Hmmm?" He couldn't stop rambling due to a mix of excitement as well as worry that the angel would shut him down.

"Eyes on the road, hands on the wheel, my dear boy," Aziraphale said softly. He considered Crowley's proposal. He enjoyed many absurd things on his own and with Crowley over centuries. Shakespeare had been absurd in his time, frankly. He was just....self-conscious. He didn't fit in with that sort of crowd. Sure, he knew Rocky Horror was a refuge for all types of people and other people type beings. It wasn't easy to let his hair down as Crowley put it. He desperately wanted to. He wanted to shout at the stage and throw rice and toast and shoot water pistols. He wanted to dress up. He simply couldn't help feeling self-conscious like this. It was baked into him ever since fellow Angels began making fun of him for time immemorial. Surely, he was the Guardian of the Eastern Gate and he was technically a warrior and had a fierce streak in him that could be dangerous when warranted. But he was soft. Fussy. Old-fashioned. Set in his ways. His body and his clothes were poked fun of. As if he hadn't noticed the way he was laughed at when dressed as Fell the Magnificent. He knew. All of these things could often roll off his back like water on a duck, but sometimes they didn't. Sometimes they stuck to his brain like gum on the bottom of a shoe. And that informed his self-conscious thoughts. However, if there was anywhere safe to let his hair down it was with his Crowley. Crowley had always given so much of himself. Besides, he threw an entire Jane Austen ball to get two people to fall in love. He could be wild. If he learned anything in their bedroom and in back of the Bentley and up against the windowsill in the last few months it's that he could certainly be obscene.

"I'd be delighted to go with you," he said cheerfully.

Crowley had been prepared for an initial rejection. And that's what he responded to. "Hear me out, Angel," he began, "I know it's not your style, but if you just -" he was cut off.

"I said I will go. Just don't expect anything outlandish from me." It was his turn to be nervous.

"You will? Angel, I -" he looked at his angel in wonder. He was really going to do it.

"Eyes, Crowley. They go on the road," he warned softly. "As I said, yes, I will go."

Crowley had a hard time containing the smile that grew and his excitement. "You won't regret it, Angel!" He slapped the steering wheel. The Bentley grumbled back. "It'll be a night to remember! I promise you!"

"Oh, I am quite certain of that my dear." Aziraphale squeezed Crowley's thigh and settled in for the rest of the ride.

--------------------------------

Crowley and Aziraphale were sat in the theater, fingers intertwined. The moment the lanky Scot stepped onto stage in his dark kilt and combat boots Crowley found himself just as magnetized to him as his angel had been. He was also obsessed with the costuming. He'd easily wear the same outfit as the lead actor. Easily. Hot. He looked over at Aziraphale, who was blushing. Such a hussy for the Scottish man. Crowley leaned in and whispered in his ear, "Be hotter as a ginger."

Aziraphale slapped his hand with the playbill. The demon was on his best behavior for the rest of performance.

At a late night cafe, they excitedly discussed the performance they had just enjoyed. "That most certainly rates in my top three," Aziraphale said as he tucked into his apple crumble. "Mmmmm....scrumptious."

"What? The crumble or your actor fellow?" Crowley asked playfully.

Aziraphale blushed and giggled. "Both," he said, taking another bite.

Crowley poked his fork into the crumble and took his own bite. "Agreed," he said with his mouth full. "His knees were sexy. Knees. How 'bout that? I couldn't stop staring every time he bent down and we got a little peek at them." He licked his fork and winked at the angel. "I'd wear the fuck out of that outfit myself."

Aziraphale couldn't possibly blush anymore. He took another bite and slowly pulled the fork out of his mouth, eyes set on Crowley. "I'd fuck the hell out of you if you wore that outfit," the low register of his voice conveying his seriousness.

Crowley was speechless. All he could manage was a raise of his eyebrows above his glasses.

Aziraphale took a sip of his tea and then dabbed the corners of his mouth in a dainty manner. "Shall we head home?" he asked innocently, placing his napkin on the table.

The drive home could only be described as warp speed. Aziraphale wasn't sure if it was more terrifying for him or the air the Bentley cut through. "Crowley, we can't do much once we're home if you discorporate us both before we even get there."

In the shop, they quickly ascended the staircase to the flat. Crowley turned to Aziraphale when they got to the stop of the stairs. "Don't come in the bedroom just yet. Give me a moment." He sauntered away quickly toward the bedroom. He had an idea. A miracle and a half later, he called out, "You can come in now, Angel." He was suddenly feeling very shy, so he dipped into the bathroom and closed the door.

Aziraphale was immediately confused when he walked into the empty room. "Crowley?"

"Promise not to laugh?" Crowley called from the bathroom. "I did something. Maybe a little silly. Maybe a little hot. I dunno." Just like angels, even demons feel shy sometimes.

"Did something?" Aziraphale repeated to himself. "Did you cut yourself shaving your legs again?," he yelled through the door. "Shall I get a plaster?" He knew that wasn't it, but he felt like teasing. "Trying on one of your Rocky Horror costumes?" That was a possibility. "Whatever it is, I won't laugh. You have my word."

Crowley, the very brave demon, slowly opened the door. "I swear, if you laugh..." He stepped out of the bathroom and looked over at his angel, whose mouth was agape as he drew in a loud gasp. "I thought you might like this. Yes?"

"Crowley..." There was his gorgeous demon, dressed head to toe as the Macbeth they had just watched. Same hairstyle held back with the elastic. Same shirt. Kilt. Kilt hose. Boots. It was....hot. He did this for him. Aziraphale was both touched and certainly turned on. They'd had sex while mostly clothed plenty of times, but neither of them specifically dressed up for the act. He felt heat rise within his core as his trousers tightened. He needed to get everything off of himself. His jacket found itself hanging neatly in the wardrobe along with his waistcoat. He pawed at his bowtie, pulling it lose as he walked over to Crowley and kissed him, twirling his red hair in his fingers. "You were right. Ginger is definitely hotter." He pulled him back towards the bed, but they didn't sit on it yet. He let Crowley work the buttons open on his shirt and slip it off past his shoulders. "Now, my dear, you will stay dressed."

Crowley laughed. "I didn't think you'd want me out of this quickly. Thankfully, you have easy access without me stripping off a single thing." He winked. "Now, tell me what you'd like me to do."

Aziraphale held his gaze for a moment. God, he was so beautifully perfect. Aziraphale was eager to take him. He looked down at his trousers, holding on desperately as his cock struggled to be free. He looked back up into Crowley's eyes and with a low voice he commanded his kilted demon king, "Kneel." He began to unfasten his pants and pull out his cock while Crowley did as he was told.

On his knees, Crowley immediately accepted Aziraphale's cock into his mouth and began his dutiful work. Tongue, lips, throat, and a hand all worked together for several minutes to bring Aziraphale close to his peak. His free hand cupped behind the angel's thigh, he could feel it shaking. He met Aziraphale's eyes and gave one more large swirl of his tongue around the glans before standing up. He licked at Aziraphale's lips. "Tell me what's next," he whispered.

Aziraphale kicked off the rest of his pants. The tartan socks and their garters would stay in place. He liked it. "Sit on the edge of the bed for me." Crowley was obedient. "Good." Aziraphale put a hand on each knee and pushed Crowley's legs open, the kilt hiking up a bit. He ran his hands up the thighs, stopping midway. "Now, let's see if what they say is true." He ran one hand up a thigh and used the other to lift the kilt. "Ah, very nice. A True Scotsman." His hands massaged Crowley's thigh crease before he took the demon's cock in his hand, slowly working the foreskin down and then back up, down and up. He smiled seductively as the demon moaned. "Now, lay back for me, dear."

Crowley did as he was told. He was focused on Aziraphale's hands. One was entertaining his cock while the other was suddenly full of lube that Aziraphale rubbed in circles around his hole. He could feel that Aziraphale also covered his own cock in it. He spread his hips more in anticipation. He felt the angel hook his hands under his knees.

Aziraphale lifted Crowley's legs and rested the calves onto his shoulders, his arms snaking around them. "Is this okay, demon?" Crowley nodded. Aziraphale was going to lose his load quickly if he didn't reign himself in. The view of Crowley on his back, legs up and spread, dressed up like this....he could barely breath. Pressing the demon's knees up against his chest, he leaned in and kissed him deeply.

Crowley's breath quickened in anticipation. "Please, Angel," he pleaded. He felt the heat of Aziraphale's cock pressed up against him. As was their custom, eyes locked and they breathed together. Crowley inhaled deeply and felt Aziraphale push into him as he slowly exhaled to relax. The few small pricks of stinging around his rim - which he actually liked - quickly subsided as the angel inched in. Pleasure overtook the nerve endings.

Aziraphale couldn't even see his cock entering the demon. The hem of the kilt was draped over Crowley's thighs and between his legs in a way that obscured the view. This made it so much hotter. He moved by feel and instinct. This was new. He patiently waited as the rhythmic clenching and relaxing of Crowley's hole drew him further inside. Crowley was serious about proper pelvic floor care and it showed. Those kegels did their job. Once he was nestled deep in place, he leaned forward, bending the demon's knees to his chest again, and kissed him. He stayed in that position, slowly rocking his hips back and forth, listening as a slight, yet high cry was laced onto Crowley's heavy breaths.

Crowley gripped his own hair. Having his legs in this position gave Aziraphale's cock supreme access to his prostate. It was currently delivering precision strikes to that very spot, sending lightning up Crowley's spine and out his fingertips. It was sensational and he didn't want it to stop, but it risked him coming too fast and he didn't want that yet. Not when he was dressed up for this. He squeezed his thighs around Aziraphale in a way that slowed him. No words needed.

Aziraphale recognized the signal to slow down. He moved back a little to give Crowley a break, still slowly thrusting into him. He ran his hands softly up and down the demons thighs and turned his head to kiss the the hose-clad leg that rested on his shoulder.

"Get on the bed," Crowley hissed.

A few extra thrusts for good measure and Aziraphale obeyed, pulling out and awkwardly climbing onto the bed. He moved up to lay his head on the pillows.

Crowley straddled him. Wait...he caught his foot in the sheet. The boots had to go, but the rest of the outfit stayed put. Hovering over Aziraphale's hips, he reached under his kilt to find the thickness of Aziraphale waiting there. He held onto it and guided it back to his hole. Still nicely stretched from moments ago, the entry was smooth and easy. Shuddering breaths turned into moans as Crowley sat all the way down onto Aziraphale. He rested his hands on the angel's soft belly and began to grind his hips forward and back.

Aziraphale was lost in the vision of Crowley riding him with the kilt flayed around them like a tent, hiding the action occurring under it. It was such a new experience and one he found most favorable. He watched as Crowley undulated his entire body like a snake. His chest rolled into a smooth movement down into his belly and then his hips - movements reminiscent of a belly dancer. Crowley's eyes fluttered closed and he seemed lost in his own world for a bit breathing rhythmically as he continued his body waves down into the angel's hips. Aziraphale, holding onto Crowley's swaying waist, was in awe of the sight before him. He and his dick were now at the mercy of this kilt-clad demon king and he lapped up every moment of it. He pushed his hands upward from Crowley's hips to fondle and grab at his pecks, his thumbs moving in circles around each nipple.

Crowley ran his hands through his own hair, now soaked with sweat, pulling the headband off and throwing it to the side. He opened his eyes, peering through the hair that had begun to fall over them and fixed his stare on Aziraphale, who was flushed and covered in the glistening sheen of hot sweat all over his skin. Hands moved up the beautifully soft torso to the shoulders and then down Aziraphale's arms. Crowley held onto both of his hands firmly. He switched his movements and was now sliding up and down on Aziraphale's cock. He used the grip on the angel's hands for leverage and began bouncing up and down. He arched his back and neck, his face skyward, eyes clenched. He felt little pulsars of pleasure take hold down at his ass, moving through his pelvis and up towards his ribs. He hard dick was swinging under the kilt. He was bouncing hard now, fucking himself on Aziraphale's cock - each thrust down punctuated by a soft cry out, each drag up bringing a shallow gasp. The muscles in his thighs and abdomen strained to keep him riding hard. His skin felt like a welcoming fire. Sweat stains on the shirt grew at Crowley's neck and chest, down his back, under his pits, and along the waistband of the kilt

Aziraphale made all sorts of ungentlemanly noises as he felt the beginnings of his orgasm start to fire up. He held firm to Crowley's hands to support him. He couldn't take his eyes off the beautiful and fully clothed, except for the bum, demon riding him hard into the mattress. He could tell by the change in Crowley's breathing that he was getting close as well.

Crowley released Aziraphale's hand and grabbed at his shoulders to pull him up so that they were sitting face to face as he rode him. The demon slowed for just a moment to adjust his legs so that they now were snaked and wrapped behind Aziraphale's ass. He draped his arms tightly around the angel's shoulders and pressed their faces together. Aziraphale moved his arms around Crowley's lower back to cup and support his buttocks, holding him tight. Crowley's hips were now wild and erratic - bouncing, grinding down, moving in hypnotic circles. He grazed his teeth along Aziraphale's neck, and then kissed him there. Dragging his lips to his ear, he hissed, "come with me," before taking the earlobe between his lips for a suck.

Aziraphale cried out a "fuck!" and brought his lips to Crowley's. As they kissed, he felt the demon's hand move to the back of his head to cradle it. Hot breaths mingled between their mouths. It was impossible to tell who was inhaling and who was exhaling at any given moment. Waves and sparks rocked through him while his body finally gave into the release.

Crowley's orgasm exploded like a supernova to meet Aziraphale's. Their faces were still pressed together, Crowley holding onto the back of the angel's head as strong arms supported him through his orgasm. They each cried the other's name while Aziraphale emptied himself into Crowley - his gorgeous thighs twitching along with his dick. Crowley collapsed into Aziraphale, melting into his strong embrace. They stayed there for a bit, swaying together. Shimmying his hips backward and allowing Aziraphale to slide out slowly, he repositioned himself so he could stretch out and lay atop his angel, who had laid himself back onto the pillows. He kissed his face hungrily - his lips, his gorgeous nose, all around each cheek, his forehead, and back to his lips - before planting his head onto Aziraphale's shoulder.

Aziraphale's hands ran alongside Crowley's spine, fingers dancing at each point of the vertebra, stopping at his shoulders and holding him tight there. They remained in a solid hug for an unknown amount of time, panting into each other's skin. Still catching his breath, Aziraphale managed to sigh out a few words. "Well, this ended a lot better for us than it did for Macbeth."

Crowley lifted his head to look at Aziraphale. They both erupted in laughter. "Oh no, no you didn't, Aziraphale," Crowley laughed. Non-stop giggles interrupted their efforts at kissing, but it didn't stop them from trying.

Aziraphale rolled them both over so he was on top of Crowley. He slid himself off to the side, pushing himself up by the elbow. He wanted to drink this vision of Crowley in - sweaty and spent, still clad in the costume. He still couldn't believe Crowley had dressed up like this for him - and he couldn't believe how much it had turned him on and informed his own lovemaking. He certainly didn't want this to be a one-off.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer, " Crowley said through a laugh. "I take it this was a success."

"Most certainly. " He was still staring.

Crowley being Crowley, grabbed the hem of the kilt and quickly flashed Aziraphale, giving him a quick look at his softened penis, quietly resting between his thighs. They shook with laughter. "Alright, Angel. Take another long look before I send this outfit away. It's practically stuck to my skin with all this sweat." Once Aziraphale had taken a final look, Crowley snapped and he was left in the nude. The clothes did not, however, disappear to someplace in the ether. Rather, they found themselves freshly cleaned and put away right there in the wardrobe, ready for another performance.

Crowley laid his head on the strong and safe chest of his lover, closing his eyes as he felt fingers carding through his hair. It wasn't long before they both drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Text

The early October air was still mild during the day despite the storm clouds that had been threatening the skies that morning at the South Downs cottage. Crowley was in the garden pointing at dormant plants, flanked on either side by Anathema and Newt.

The two had called Aziraphale earlier that week. They were set to stay with friends in Brighton for a few days as Anathema was taking a training class and called to ask if Aziraphale and Crowley needed any extra hands as they worked on the cottage. As a matter of fact, they did. Crowley would be putting in long hours assessing the garden and deciding what to do to prep for winter. It was one of the things he refused to hire anyone for. No one touches Crowley's plants other than himself and the angel - and that's when he has permission - unless he is directly supervising and he trusts you. Crowley knew Anathema had her witchy ways and was good with plant life. Both he and Aziraphale were surprised on a recent visit to Jasmine Cottage to find that Newt was a fairly adept gardener, too. It was even more of a shock that he became an accomplished cook at home as well. Who expected that?

The young couple had arrived bright and early that morning, arms loaded with a few baked breakfast goodies and sandwich fixings as well as gardening tools. They were bedecked in old tee-shirts and dungarees. Crowley was as well, only in black, of course. Aziraphale was not. "I have hostess duties to attend to, " he chirped when Crowley sauntered into the kitchen in his dungarees early that morning, wondering why Aziraphale was still dressed in his everyday clothing.

Their kitchen was bare bones. They didn't keep much there as they hadn't fully moved in yet. Their new fridge had been delivered and hooked up, but remained primarily empty as it waited for the rest of the house to catch up. They relied on bringing meals in or getting takeaway on the days they were working on the house. That morning found Aziraphale making tea and fussing over the pastries that Anathema had brought, arranging them artfully on the breakfast table in the kitchen so they were ready whenever anyone came in for a bite. He stood at the kitchen sink washing up some tableware he and Crowley had brought along and smiled as he watched the scene unfolding throughout the window. Newt and Anathema followed Crowley as he walked them through the gardens, pointing and chattering away. It wasn't long before the three were back in the kitchen with Aziraphale, washing pastries down with their tea before starting the real work in the gardens.

Before making his way out, Crowley gave Aziraphale a small kiss and said, "stay out of trouble here. What are your plans for inside the house today? Need anything before I get my hands dirty?"

"Oh, I'll be dusting and cleaning things here and there. Maybe taking more measurements. Just a busy bee!" He twiddled his fingers around each other like a bee circling a flower. He pecked the cheek of the demon and ushered the three of them out the door. "Off you pop! Remember to stay hydrated and don't hesitate to pop back in if you get tired. "

He watched them march outside, trowels and other gardening accoutrement in hand. Confident they'd be hard at work for a few hours, he set to get down to business. He rummaged through a tote bag he'd brought with him, stamped with A.Z. Fell and Co., and pulled out a book. He balanced a tea cup and a small plate of two crumpets smeared with jelly and made his way to what would be their bedroom. A plush armchair had been delivered earlier in the week and was set next to the large window in their room. It overlooked a grand expanse of the gardens as well as a sliver of the ocean peaking over lush meadows in the distance. He sank into the armchair and placed the teacup and plate onto a milkcrate next to him. The night tables had yet to be delivered. As it was, the only other things in this room were the armchair and the angel comfortably sitting in it.

Hours went by in the gardens. The three had pulled out failing vegetation and the more troublesome weeds - certain types, such as dandelions, would be allowed to stay. They tied back some larger withering plants that Crowley explained would do fare that way until they fully died off. They assessed vegetable beds and the cages that covered some of them, designed to keep nibbling critters out. Newt kept an open note on his phone for Crowley, documenting what needed to be repaired or replaced. They continued their hard work, accomplishing a great deal, before deciding to take a break for lunch.

Aziraphale glanced out the window just in the nick of time to see them making their way inside. He quickly dashed through the room and into the kitchen, grabbing a broom. By some miracle, wink, the washing up was put away in freshly dusted and cleaned out cabinets. The table and counters had been wiped down. The sandwich fixings for lunch were neatly arranged on the breakfast table along with a pitcher of ice water and glassware. Other rooms found themselves dusted. Mostly - one didn't want to appear perfect at all times.

"Mind your feet," Aziraphale called out as he heard the door to the boot room off the kitchen open, "I just finished sweeping the floor in the kitchen. Boots and shoes and any mud remain in the boot room, please." He squatted down just as Crowley was walking in, the duo close behind him. Legs wide open, pants taut against his thighs and his ass - he knew what he was doing. Crowley raised a brow. Aziraphale swept his tidy pile of dust and whatnot into the dustpan and then stood up with a flourish and theatrical groan. "Do come in and grab some lunch, dears. I know I've certainly worked up an appetite myself," he said as he tapped the dust into the bin. He plucked a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed his forehead. Poor overworked angel.

Aziraphale clucked like a mother hen, urging everyone to wash their hands thoroughly before lunch. Then the four of them stood around the table, making an assortment of sandwiches for themselves and drinking down perfectly icy water - the pitcher seemed bottomless somehow as it was never left empty no matter how many glasses were poured. The conversation was carefree and flowed easily as they ate. Anathema asked for the bathroom before heading out again.

"I'll show you the one in the best working order," Crowley said. He hesitated. "That made it sound worse than it is. Just some of the bathrooms are having new floors put in. I'll show you the one that is already done." He walked her out.

Newt helped Aziraphale clear plates and other discards from the table. "This is a very lovely house, Mr. Fell. I can tell you two will be happy here. It's also nice having another couple to visit down here. So much to do and see."

Couple. Aziraphale smiled. Anathema and Newt had been among the first to hear the official news that he and Crowley were a couple, despite it not being any sort of real news to them. Still, hearing the word gave Aziraphale a case of the warm fuzzies. He was delighted. "You two are welcome here anytime you'd like to visit, dear. We are always delighted to have your company."

Crowley came back into the kitchen with Anathema, an amused look on his face as he held up the teacup and the little plate, evidence of crumpets and jelly still on it. He walked over to where Aziraphale was standing next to the sink and placed them down there. He spoke in his best spooky voice. "I think we have a ghost. Booooooo! It's been using our bedroom to snack on crumpets! I even found a book there. Who knew we had a bedroom ghost?" In a mock sinister voice he whispered, "Oh he's gonna witness all manner of ssssins in there."

Aziraphale looked around bewildered and blushing. "I.....I...well, I....was..." Caught. He was caught. "I took a small simple break from all of my housework, dear." He fiddled at the hem of his waistcoat. "I also wanted to check the natural lighting in the bedroom. So...so I'd know where to keep my armchair. For reading."

Anathema and Newt tried to hold back a laugh. "We'll meet you outside, Crowley." They walked out to the boot room, giggling to themselves as they put their shoes back on before heading outside.

"Be right out, luv!" Crowley called after them. He turned to Aziraphale and took him in his arms for a gentle kiss. "M'just joking, Angel. Miracles, our own human-ish handiwork, help for hire....I don't care how we get this house done, just as long as I get to spend many, many, many happy days and nights here with you." He was feeling especially sappy today. "I love you."

That gentle kiss turned into a longer, more passionate one. Out of the corner of his eye, Crowley noticed the figures of Anathema and Newt standing outside, giggling still as they watched the lovers through the window. He smiled. "Give them a show then." Deepening the passionate kiss, he dipped a surprised Aziraphale backward. Pulling the flustered angel back up, he turned to the window and waved. The duo outside immediately pretended to be busy with plants, Newt dropping, picking up, and dropping his trowel several times.

"Get outside, you. I'll see you back in for - tea? Dinner?" he shooed Crowley away with a spank to the bum as he was bent over to put his boots back on. "Be gone, demon!" He joked and followed it with, "I love you, dear boy."

Crowley jogged...fucking jogged like a happy little nerd...outside. Aziraphale could hear him yell, "Oi! You two peeping Toms! Perverts!"

Rolling up his shirtsleeves, Aziraphale got to work washing up the dishes from lunch and watched the garden action outside with a smile. He was just as besotted with his own dorky and happy demon as he was with Anathema and Newt. Having witnessed the beginnings of their relationship at the almost end of the world and seeing how it blossomed was something he cherished.

He dried his hands off and turned to make his way back to the bedroom and his book. "Ah!" he circled back into the kitchen and poked through a bakery box to grab one of the little biscuits Anathema and Newt had brought with them. "Just a little nibble to keep the energy up." He grabbed a napkin and walked back into the bedroom, sank into his new chair, put the biscuit in its napkin on the table, and picked up his book. It was a perfect and productive day for Aziraphale.

Out in the garden, Crowley and Anathema were deep in conversation near a bed that had been planted with herbs previously. Some were still clinging on through the change in season and others were dried out. A few more were just wilted stubs barely poking above ground. They worked together identifying them. Some would reseed and come back next year. Others, maybe not. The lavender and rosemary were still clinging on. Crowley was impressed with Anathema's knowledge. "You know, I think I want to expand this section. Get a lot more herbs in..in...in the Spring. Aziraphale likes to cook. And he makes medicinal concoctions and little fun smelling lotions and potions - much like you do." He nodded toward Anathema while miming the act of stirring something. Dorkily. "A bunch of these could probably be useful to you now, especially the lavender and rosemary, so why don't you cut it all out to use in your herbal workings." There was actually quite a lot she could use. "You can always pop over in the warmer months when everything is full and fresh - snip anything you'd like." It was Crowley's way of saying, "thank you," to her for helping without having to use the actual words.

Anathema was touched. "You mean that? It's so much." She surveyed all of the plants. "Wow. This is going to be so useful. You have a lot here that I use in little herb bundles I like to send home with my patients for period relief or post-birth sitz baths or breastfeeding support - oh, just so many things. Thank you, Crowley." She knew he was much more shy about physical touch than Aziraphale, but she felt she could do this - she leaned in and put her arm around him and squeezed him gently into a side hug. "That's very generous." She was stunned to find Crowley's arm around her back, returning the side hug. She stood still in the moment, heart touched, reflecting on the fact that this is the most relaxed she had ever seen him. Granted, they met because they were stopping Armageddon part one and that wasn't very relaxing, but she'd seen him plenty since and it was lovely to finally meet this side of him, not that his usual grumpy and sardonic countenance was any less charming.

As the herb bed was not far outside the bedroom windows, Aziraphale had witnessed the moment between Crowley and Anathema. He couldn't believe his eyes for a moment, but he certainly felt them a minute later when the resulting sting of tears emerged and streamed down his face. His beautiful demon. Accepting affection. Giving affection freely. It may have seemed like the smallest and most basic gesture in the world, but Aziraphale knew how grand it really was. He'd had thousands of years feeling his own heart break over the simple fact that Crowley didn't ever believe he was deserving of good...of love...of affection. That had certainly changed between the two of them - finally - but Crowley was still heavily guarded against everyone else, human or otherwise. He stepped away from physical contact and often argued against compliments from anyone other than Aziraphale. The bits of acceptance he did let in were small and fleeting. This was such a rare occasion where he didn't shy from friendly human touch. Slowly, Crowley was transforming, shedding the skin of old pains and fears that no longer served him. A little sob escaped Aziraphale's lips as he whipped out a handkerchief to dab at his eyes.

A shrill scream from a woman broke out from elsewhere in the garden. Wait....who else was out there? Another high scream and Aziraphale honed in on its location. It was Newt. He was...would we call it jogging?...in place and pointing to the ground, his face twisted in utter terror.

"No! No! You're alright!" He heard Crowley yell as he ran towards him. Aziraphale didn't need any further clues. He knew exactly what was happening. Taking a nibble of his biscuit, he released a contented sigh and continued to enjoy the show.

Outside, Crowley quickly ran to Newt as he peeled his garden gloves off. He had already sensed what had Newt screaming. He sensed many in the garden that day. "That's just a simple grass snake!" his yell was lower as he got closer. "Very safe. Friendly little guys. Come here, luv." He picked up the snake. It was a large one of that variety. "Hello," Crowley's voice was gentle and soft, much like it had been with the child at the book show. He and the snake regarded each other as if they were kin. They were.

"Little?" Newt's words cracked. "That's not very little. Are you sure it isn't an Adder? Are you sure it's friendly? It could bite! Do you have anti-venom here?" His voice was high and uncertain. "We need anti-venom." He looked all around as if a bottle of anti-venom would appear.

Anathema pressed her lips together to stop a smile. "Ohhh, I think Mister Crowley knows his snakes." They didn't know the full lore of Aziraphale and Crowley, but what they did know was enough. They'd seen his real eyes at not-so-Armageddon "We go through this at Jasmine Cottage in our garden. He has snake trauma from childhood." she explained

"Snake trauma," he repeated her words softly. Oh, Crowley understood snake trauma. He spoke in a soft, reassuring tone to Newt. "I know these fellows very well." The snake was very calm in Crowley's arm's, content to rest, its very long body wrapping around his arm and over his shoulder as Crowley cradled its head. "You want them in your garden. I am happy they are in mine. They do a lovely job of keeping the naughty pests away...naughty pervs who peep in windows, too." He winked at them both. He spoke to the snake the way he spoke to his Bentley sometimes. "Oooh, you're so good looking, aren't you? Just gorgeous." His smile was warm and wide. He gave Newt a quick rundown of the snake's markings and how to distinguish it from adders. He was careful not to infodump on the scared man despite a strong desire to do so. He knew he could ramble sometimes. He held the snake's head up to face him, "do you mind if we let our friends here give you a wee pet?"

There was an obvious exchange of understanding between Crowley and his snake friend. "Pet?" Newt squeaked.

"Sure. Yeah, a pet. Unless you want a fondle. In that case, we'll need more consent. Nah...this fellow is fine with a nice pet. Of course, only...only if you want to...I hope I can tempt you to do so. It may help you feel less afraid. I promise you, he will not hurt you."

"Oh...O-k...Okay," Newt said, not sounding very reassured yet. "Can Anathema try first?" He took a small step to place himself behind her.

"Yes!" she piped up excitedly.

Crowley gently braced the snake's head. "Now, I am doing this to keep his head in place. This is how you'd handle a snake so you don't get bit." He noticed Newt wince. "This snake will not bite you. I just want you to be extra reassured and I want you to know what to do in case you ever have to handle one." He faced Anathema, who was taking her gardening gloves off. "Here now, very gently. You can pet the area behind my hand."

At the word "hand" the two of them gasped at Crowley. This wouldn't help Newt feel less afraid. Part of Crowley's hand became covered in snake scales. Very, very beautiful garnet and obsidian scales that caught the light and shimmered with it. Shit. No, no, no, no.

"Right. Ngk. Uh. Awkward, innit?" His voice was much less confident as he whispered, "Please don't be afraid of me." Crowley felt a small worry grow in his heart. That small worry was punctuated by 6,000 years of being reviled for his snake nature, for his starring role in humanity's downfall. He shook the thoughts off and drew in a long breath."This sometimes happens. I just get very excited when I have a chance to handle these guys." He tried to sound cheerful, but he felt gutted that this could ruin things.

"We're not afraid of you, Crowley." Anathema said softly, sensing Crowley's hurt, her large eyes trying to meet his. "Just never saw something like this. And so beautiful." Newt bravely nodded his head behind her.

"Thank you," he whispered. He said the words. He can't believe what he said next. "You can touch my hand if you'd like. Newt, that may be less scary for you at first." He smiled with relief as Anathema reached out and put her hand on his, delicately tracing the scales, studying them. Her hand was warm and soft on his, her eyes were full of wonder. He was glad for his glasses as they hid the moisture he was trying hard to will away from his eyes.

"They're like jewels. So, so stunning." she spoke with awe. Anathema moved to gently pet the snake. "Hey little guy," she said. "Oh, how awesome. This feels so cool. He's so calm. You can do it, Newt." She gave Newt's hand a squeeze.

Petting the snake-man's hand vs. petting the actual snake. Newt wasn't sure either was less scary, but he did trust Crowley. He tentatively ran two shaking fingers on Crowley's scales first. "Whoa," he was in awe. "These are very cool-looking. It feels like magic. They're fascinating." Everyone would pretend to not notice the tear that escaped from the frame of Crowley's glasses if they knew what was good for them, even the snake. Newt then reached to timidly pet the snake. "Hi, Mister snake. I'm Newt. Not the kind of Newt that you may eat, though. Newton. Wait, no. Not a fig newton either. Just me. " They all laughed. "Thank you," he looked at Crowley and smiled. "That was very nice of you." He felt good about himself. It hadn't been an easy life, being so afraid all the time and being clumsy. People were often impatient with him and unkind. As a child, he used to think he would be able to be braver if people were just kinder to him, but the kindness never came. Not until he met Anathema and everyone involved with Armageddon't. Crowley constantly made fun of his car - something he had yet to do today - but he was always patient with him. As was Aziraphale.

"In Sunday school, " Newt began to explain, "they teach you that the snake is a symbol of hell, sin, and all that is bad with the world. I think that is where my fear started. I'm prone to anxiety though."

Crowley bristled at the explanation and regarded the snake, holding its face up to his. He understood what Newt meant because he lived it. "So many creatures suffer at humanity's hands because of superstition. So many humans suffer, too. Snakes are just doing the job they were put here to do. They shouldn't be punished for it." He didn't want to go too deep. He smiled at Newt and Anathema. To Newt, he said, "you did very well. I can tell this handsome fellow likes you."

Anathema beamed at Newt.

Crowley walked the snake over to a further corner of the garden. Anathema and Newt looked on as it seemed that Crowley was whispering something to the snake before gently letting it down onto the earth. Crowley walked back over to them. He had one more soft moment in him, but no more than that for someone's sake. "Anathema, Newt, take my hands." He held them out to them, the scales slowly becoming lighter. As they held his hands, he spoke softly. "You both know what we -" he indicated to the window where he definitely didn't notice Aziraphale standing - "are. You know what I am. Do you trust me when I say you never, ever have to be afraid of snakes anywhere in this world ever again? No harm will come to you from them. You have my word." This was another thank you.

"We do," they said in unison, still in awe of the person....being?...in front of them.

Crowley sighed. This was indeed a beautiful moment, but he had enough feelings for today, especially since he knew more would come to him in the house when it was just him and Aziraphale. Time to break it up. "Besides," he directed his attention to Newt, "you're more in danger of getting laughed off the road in that tricycle you call a car." He snorted. There it was. He clapped his hands. "Right! Let's get you slackers back to work! What do you say we start sweeping and picking up all of the clippings we left behind today? Anathema, don't forget to cut down and bundle up all those herbs for yourself." He tossed a roll of twine to her, leaving her bewildered because it seemed to appear out of thin air. With that, the three of them were back to being hard at work.

From the window, Aziraphale stood silently, his face soaked from the tears that had trickled down his cheeks. His half-eaten biscuit was still in his hand. He didn't quite hear everything that had been said - not in the human way at least - but he felt it. He'd never get used to the feeling of his love and awe for Crowley expanding. He was so brave. So, so brave. Here, Aziraphale had been worried about dressing up and going to a silly little play that was beyond his fussy little comfort zone and yet his beautiful lover was out there allowing himself to be vulnerable, to be seen. "Oh, Crowley."

The storm clouds finally stopped threatening and went into action, sprinkling a light rain onto them. The three gardeners decided now was a good time to head in, their work done for the weekend. Anathema gathered her herbs from where she had left them and brought them inside, using one of the cloth bags from their sandwich ingredient haul to hold them. Newt and Crowley followed behind her, the three of them dutifully removing their boots before entering the kitchen. They came upon an Aziraphale, arms loaded with takeaway bags.

"Ah! What perfect timing! I took the liberty of ordering some Thai takeaway and it just happened to be dropped off the moment you were walking in." Wink. "Let's have us a nice little supper, shall we?"

Aziraphale had begun to make his way for their little breakfast table, but Anathema stopped him and insisted they should eat in the parlour-to-be using some milk crates for a table and a clean sheet - that was destined to be a dropcloth - as a tablecloth. "It'll be a total vibe," she said.

They all worked together to set everything up. Aziraphale and Crowley locked eyes, a full unspoken conversation flowed between them at that moment. The four of them sat on the floor at their makeshift table, chatting and eating. Aziraphale noticed that Crowley repeatedly reached up to his glasses, as if to take them off, but he kept hesitating. The angel gave him an encouraging smile when their gaze met. With a slow movement and almost poking himself in the eye, Crowley took his glasses off and set them next to his supper.

Anathema gave him a warm smile. "Stunning," she said, before returning to the conversation at hand.

Newt updated them on his entry into culinary school, excitedly explaining how he was always shit at mostly everything, but it turned out he could cook and he was quite creative with it, too. His usual clumsiness was not present in the kitchen.

"Creative minds often work differently and very, very fast. It's hard for the body to catch up with the brain at times. Hence the clumsiness. People should be more understanding." Crowley just spilled that kind explanation out of nowhere. Seriously, where was this softness coming from today? He gave Newt a bit of a jab, "Haven't burnt the school down then, eh?" They all laughed together.

"Newt, my dear," Aziraphale began eagerly, "allow me to formally offer my services for taste testing. I'd be happy to offer my refined palate -" he paused to raise an eyebrow in the direction of Crowley's snort laugh - "to assist you in any culinary projects."

Aziraphale asked Anathema about her job. She had been quite accomplished, having become a midwife after Armageddidn't. On top of that, she opened her own birthing and reproductive health center - The Agnes Nutter Center for Birth and Reproductive Health - thanks to her good family fortune. She would be visiting Brighton for the next few days to attend a training on Queer reproductive health and Queer needs in pregnancy.

"I used to be a midwife," Crowley shared between bites. "Seen a lot of shit in my day. Literally, even." Aziraphale and Newt looked on as the other two chatted back and forth about midwifery and birth, including a rousing discussion on the best labouring positions.

As the night wore on and wound down, Anathema and Newt bid them good night. Aziraphale and Crowley were sending them off with all of the leftovers. Newt and Crowley shook hands and Crowley slapped him on the shoulder, wishing him luck in the cooking sphere. Anathema gave Aziraphale a hug and a kiss on the cheek. The angel brought Newt in for a hug, too, as he effusively thanked them both for keeping his Crowley occupied in the garden all day while he worked hard in the house. Anathema approached Crowley and held her arms out. "Oh fine," he grumbled and rolled his eyes. He wouldn't admit how he relished the warmth of her hug. He gave her a gentle squeeze. "Remember to call us if the toy car breaks down." He winked at Newt over her shoulder.

"Well, that was a wonderful time, wasn't it? We all got a lot done. They are such a lovely couple - always nice to have them around," he said as he closed the door and turned to face Crowley.

"You called for takeaway? The phone line isn't in service yet and my mobile was in my pocket the entire time, Aziraphale. Did you dig out your 1997 brick of a mobile phone? Or maybe a more technologically advanced carrier pigeon?"

Aziraphale happily endured the teasing. "You caught me, my dear. Several times. I was just making sure our guests enjoyed themselves while they were here to help. You understand, I'm sure. We do want them to come back...not just to help, but as guests once this is all finished."He gestured broadly around them. "They are always so lovely and I'd love to host them here from time to time."

"I believe we'll be seeing them often, love." He took him into a long hug and swayed with him. "They seem to enjoy our company and we enjoy theirs. Besides, next time I'll introduce Newt to some spiders. Oh, he'll have a blast," he laughed.

They left many things unsaid as they cleaned up and grabbed anything that needed to return to London with them. Walking around the house to shut all the lights off, Crowley once again stopped in the old nursery room, feeling the energy it gave off and pushing down the feelings that wanted to take hold. He shut the light off the way he'd shut his feelings off and headed towards the door with Azirphale to make their way back to London.

Back at the bookshop that night, Aziraphale sat in his armchair with his book that he was most certainly not close to finished as he had been working around the cottage all day and didn't have time to read. Crowley went to change out of his garden duds. "I'll be with you shortly, if you don't mind, dear. Just got a few short chapters left," he called as Crowley headed up to their bedroom. He knew his demon needed a little moment to himself to process all the emotions of the day. The drive home had been pleasant, but quieter than normal. He and Crowley would talk about it as they lay in bed later, but he wanted the demon to have his space first.

Upstairs, Crowley stood naked in front of the mirror. He looked at his lithe, angular body with its pale skin and mix of various shades of red, ranging from red hot to deep auburn, in all the hairy spots. He ran his hands along his skin, all up and down his arms, his torso, his hips. His skin alternated between its milky pink human-ish form and his scales wherever he touched, the latter glittering in the bathroom light. His plants stood watch as he regarded himself, licking his now forked tongue along his sharp teeth. He brought his hands to his face, exposing scales there. He does this from time to time, just taking in his snake form. He used to be afraid to do this so casually as it scared him to think he would forget how to turn back to looking human, that he'd have to walk through the world with people shrieking in fear at the sight of him. He would show his scales to Aziraphale now and then. The angel would marvel at them, kissing them, worshiping them. Today was the first time he showed them to someone else in a friendly manner. Outside of Aziraphale, the only ones seeing any part of his snake form were those he was attempting to terrify - angels and demons included. And no one - not a single being other than his angel - ever got to touch them without regretting it. At least, not after he learned to fight back in the early days after his Fall and its resulting torment. Today, he allowed himself to trust in his friends. Friends. He had real friends and people who accepted him. And they had found him beautiful despite seeing a glimpse of his cursed form. It was a gift to feel accepted and to be able to trust, but the process of letting any bit of his guard down and opening himself up was overwhelming and exhausting. It made him uncomfortable in a way he couldn't explain - a way that wasn't really negative.

He continued studying himself in the mirror. He let the scales begin to fade. He felt he was on the brink of a transformation. He didn't know what that meant, only that he was safe to ride it out with Aziraphale now. Safe. It was so hard to get used to the feeling of security that he now had with his angel. He certainly didn't deserve it - that's what he believed. He'd longed for a sense of safety and security for his entire existence after the Fall - hell, even before it - and now that it was part of his reality he was unsure of how to process it. As he had told Aziraphale, they each fought separately and together to be able to love each other freely and openly and was going to enjoy every moment of it with him. He just needed to work on believing that he deserved it. That would be part of his transformation. This shedding of old skin would lead to a type of growth he'd never experienced. That process excited him and made him happy, but it was terrifying as well. As the last of his scales disappeared, Crowley contemplated the ways he had changed in just the last few months with his angel. Aziraphale was always there with him, ready to cushion him from any fall.

Aziraphale was in the last pages of his book when he heard Crowley walk down the stairs. The demon quietly walked over to him and stood before him, clad only in his long silky black dressing gown. "Oh," Aziraphale breathed. "There you are. I didn't mean to keep you waiting. I-" he was cut off by Crowley lifting up his dressing gown - he wasn't wearing anything underneath, Aziraphale noticed - and climbing into his lap, straddling him, releasing the back of the gown to drape over Aziraphale's legs. Miraculously, the armchair was roomy enough for what was about to happen. Aziraphale dropped his book. "Crowley...." he whispered.

Crowley leaned over his face to kiss him. It was a desperate embrace. He brought his hand down between his legs to unfasten Aziraphale's trousers, feeling Aziraphale's hand join his to assist. After some shifting and wiggling, the trousers were pulled down enough to expose the angel's cock. A miracle brought lube to Crowley's hand, which he slowly worked onto the cock with languid strokes.

"Crowley," Aziraphale moaned quietly. Lips met his again for another deep and desperate kiss. Aziraphale held Crowley at his hips as the demon shifted himself to line up with the angel's cock.

Their eyes never left the gaze of one another. Crowley slowly took Aziraphale in, lips locked together as a small cry circled around in the demon's throat. His hands were holding each side of Aziraphale's face, fingers gently tracing patterns at his temples. They moved their hips slowly, gently rocking. No words were exchanged. Movements were deliberate and slow. Breaths were shared, peppered with moans and light cries. Lips and tongues worked together. Both blue and golden eyes were wet, tears threatening to escape from the corners of lids. The room was quiet save for the ticking of the grandfather clock and the light sounds of their quiet breaths and moans. Their shared breathing became quicker. Aziraphale felt Crowley's muscles tighten, his thighs pressing harder against the angel's. Aziraphale embraced Crowley around his back and shoulders, holding tight as Crowley cried out into his neck with his orgasm. The angel breathed quietly through his own orgasm, spilling himself into his lover with a quiet sigh. He kissed along Crowley's long neck.

Crowley turned his head to meet with Aziraphale's lips, his kiss no less desperate than when they had begun. The tears had escaped his eyes freely now. His chest began to heave against Aziraphale and sobs broke free from his throat.

Aziraphale held his demon tightly as the cries grew. He stroked his hair and kissed him. "I've got you my love, I've got you." He wasn't exactly sure what his Crowley was feeling, but he would see him through it and protect him. "We're safe. You're safe. I'm here." He kissed him again. "My darling Crowley."

Crowley wasn't sure, either. Whatever he had been feeling, he just needed Aziraphale desperately. He let his cries break out of him, safe in Aziraphale's arms, clinging to him, still connected to him in all manner of ways.

Aziraphale rocked him there in his arms. He soothed him with a long-forgotten lullaby as the demon's shaking cries slowed down.

Chapter Text

Aziraphale and Crowley lay in bed. Crowley was draped over Aziraphale, his head on his chest with the angel's arms wrapped around him. Some time had passed since they were downstairs in the armchair, first rocking through pleasure and then rocking through Crowley's sobs. Aziraphale had soothed him with songs in a forgotten language and eventually carried him upstairs, an act Crowley didn't always allow. Crowley still couldn't put any names to his feelings, he just knew they were there.

"My dear boy," Aziraphale spoke into Crowley's hair as he kissed his head.

"I don't know what this is, Aziraphale," his voice was still raspy from the crying. "I'm so....ridiculously happy. And...and you make me feel so safe, so protected. " He sighed and propped himself up to look his angel in the eyes, feeling their hearts beating together as they lay chest to to chest. "So much is changing. I think I'm changing. I know I am. I'm feeling things I've never felt before...or felt safe enough to feel." The tears started again.

"Crowley," Aziraphale's voice was soft and understanding. He reached to swipe a thumb against one of Crowley's tears.

"You protect me so well, Aziraphale. Did you know that?" Gah, these fucking tears. "You always have. When I....fell... When I fell, I fought for my life. I fought with everything I had. I didn't want to become a monster. I didn't want to hurt anyone. I gave in eventually. I submitted part of myself to darkness. " He took a steadying breath. "I've made peace with the darker parts of myself over thousands of years. I've accepted it. I know this is what I deserved."

"Crowley, we both know you didn't deserve any of these terrible things..." They'd had these talks before. Aziraphale was patient with him. In some of these conversations, Crowley would chip away at the tiniest little pieces of self-hatred and doubt. Aziraphale had learned to be careful not to push Crowley in these conversations. He would gently sit with him and support him, like an emotional doula. It was difficult for him to hear Crowley talk about deserving his punishment, but he knew it was best to proceed cautiously with his demon's emotions. They both knew better about these things. Aziraphale was well aware that knowing something didn't always mean that your emotions caught up, especially when it came to how you felt about yourself. Crowley was indeed changing and Aziraphale knew it had to be overwhelming for him. Aziraphale had firsthand knowledge of what it was like to have your own self perceptions challenged. After all, it was Crowley who opened Aziraphale’s eyes about his own self-worth and how he was perfect as he was, despite Heaven’s beliefs about his shortcomings.

Crowley laid his head next to Aziraphale's and reached to tuck a few curls back behind his ear. They shifted so they could lay face to face, bellies touching and arms wrapped together. The angel's eyes were wet, too. They lay there, soaking each other in for a few minutes, speaking millennia's worth of history and pain without words. When Crowley finally spoke again, it was in a whisper as more tears flowed. "I let them touch me. My scales." The words came out as if he still couldn't believe them.

"I know," Aziraphale said gently. He trailed fingers along Crowley's shoulder thinking of all the times he had seen Crowley's scales, including Eden.

He smiled through a sniff. "I surprised myself. I don't think I would have ever allowed myself to feel vulnerable like that if I didn't have your guidance and protection."

"Crowley, it's all you. It's your strength. It's part of who you are." He was careful not to go too deep here. Crowley was still a demon with a long history. It didn't matter that he had done a million or so nice things, including the simple matter of helping to save the world, calling attention to his being "nice" was a trigger point that brought him back to centuries of being watched, weighed, and measured. It was dangerous for a demon to be nice, a fear Crowley was still unable to shake off despite the knowledge that they truly were safe from all of that now.

He ran his hands through the softness of Crowley's hair. Aziraphale has performed countless, literally countless, miracles in his days. He has healed so many with the very hands that were holding his demon and stroking his hair. His desperation to be able to heal the many broken pieces of Crowley was as deep as his love for him, but he knew that was not the way. This kind of pain and the self-acceptance needed to heal would not be easily snapped away. It would be work for Crowley himself, but work Aziraphale could support and love him through. Crowley was the miracle - he just didn't realize it yet. He kissed Crowley at the top of his nose, between his expressive brows. "How did you feel when it happened? In the garden with Anathema and Newt? "

Crowley opened his mouth and took a breath in several times before speaking. "Scared - at first. Sad, actually. I didn't know that would happen - I have much more control than that." He took a breath. "The first thing I thought was that I hated myself. The second was that it would scare them away." Tears welled up in his eyes. "I thought I was about to ruin this friendship that meant so much to us."

Aziraphale knew he could argue with Crowley about hating himself or assuming that others would, but he also knew it wouldn't help. He needed to let Crowley take the lead on processing everything. A lifetime of trauma cannot be overcome by simple platitudes and positive affirmations. He had firsthand experience. His own eyes were welling up again. They had these kinds of talks often, frequently after sex, where they'd crack themselves wide open and then work together to heal and glue little bits back together just a little better than they were before.

"When Anathema told me they weren't afraid and then," he sniffed, "and when they....they touched my hand," his mouth was open and his eyes moved back and forth as if searching some unseen words in front of him, "it felt new. Something new. They've always accepted us...me...but this was a new level." His next breaths shuddered. "And I don't know what to do with that."

"You are worthy of good things, Crowley. Of love." He considered his words thoughtfully. "They're not just pulling their feelings out of the ether. They are responding to what you show them." His tears were flowing freely now. "You don't have to be perfectly healed and perfectly right with the world to deserve this acceptance, to let yourself feel it in those moments. You're worth all of that now. You always have been."

"I don't know what to do with these emotions. I don't know how to do this right," Crowley was lightly sobbing, touching his forehead to Aziraphale's.

Aziraphale was softly crying with him. "My Crowley, you are doing this so beautifully. I am in awe of you - just as I always have been, for a million different reasons - I am in awe." He tipped his chin so they were eye to eye again. "You inspire me - you have for as long as I’ve known you. These changes are beautiful, even though they are difficult. I will always celebrate you and to hold you through anything you are struggling with." He kissed him, lips salty from tears. "I love you, Crowley. So much."

"I love you, Angel." He pulled him closer to fully hug him, burying his face in the mess of white curls and breathing in the heavenly aroma that was him. His Angel. The complications and the overwhelm of the swirl of emotions he'd been experiencing was made more bearable by the steady presence of what he considered the most perfect being that ever existed in Creation. How lucky he was to have him.

They spent the rest of the night in each other's arms, alternating between kissing and crying - sometimes both together. They never did fall asleep, not even Crowley. They watched the sunlight stretch through the curtains to streak the walls with its glow as the morning made her presence known. A warm bath was the perfect answer to their long night. Aziraphale and Crowley took turns washing one another before enjoying a long soak, the angel leaning back contentedly into the demon's embrace.

As the morning wore on, Aziraphale was busy in the kitchen making breakfast and tea, coffee for Crowley. He thought over their conversation from the night before and how he hoped his gentle and careful words were enough to make Crowley accept himself just a little bit more. He couldn't be pushy, but he was desperate to bring a little extra cheer to his demon. But how? He suddenly had an idea. "Ah-ha!" he said loudly to himself and the breakfast taking shape in the kitchen. He knew just what he was going to do.

After breakfast, he decided to send Crowley on a little errand. "Crowley, would you be a dear and see if Nina has any of those marvelous cream puffs among her delectables today? I've got myself a bit of a hankering." He wiggled his fingers in delight.

Crowley had been helping him finish the washing up from breakfast. How they delighted in simple domestic duties. Crowley wasn't delighted in the moment because his enthusiastic scrubbing landed a wad of bubbles into his eye. "Ah! Fuck me. Right in the eye!" he yelped.

"Now dear, you know I'm open to many experimentations in the bedroom, but fucking you right in the eye is most certainly beyond my comfort level." He looked at Crowley's eye. "Just a little red. Nothing a little kiss can't solve." He pressed a tiny kiss to Crowley's eye. "All better?"

"Thank you, Angel." He kissed his forehead. "Let me just finish these dishes and I will head over to the cafe."

"Oh, those can wait, dear. I'd really prefer a cream puff sooner than later!" Aziraphale was anxious because he had an idea and when he had an idea he wanted to give it his full attention right away. He needed to get Crowley out of the bookshop right now. "Off you go now. Take your time!"

Crowley thought nothing of it. The intense need for a pastry was not unusual for his angel. He cooly sauntered through the bookshop. This is an actual lie. He tripped over a stack of books, and then tripped again when trying to pick them back up, but no one saw it so it never happened. He grabbed his glasses off the desk and headed out the door to bother Nina.

At the cafe, he leaned the entire top half of his body over the counter to get Nina's attention. "A cream puff for my cream puff, please!" he called to her. He's so polite.

Nina had been putting up some newly washed mugs. "Ah! Good morning to you.” She gave him a bright smile. “No Mr. Fell with you today?"

"Oh dear, is he okay?" An annoying voice chimed in behind him. Mr. Brown of Brown's World of Carpets. He was sitting just a few feet from Crowley, peering over a newspaper. "You two are always together. I do hope there wasn't a spat." He sounded hopeful that there was.

Crowley and Mr. Brown didn't despise one another, but they didn't exactly like one another all the time, either. He was always so obvious about his attraction to Aziraphale, who seemed quite clueless about it (but was secretly so overjoyed to see his demon get jealous. Don't tell Crowley). "Oh everything is perfect, don't you worry. Mr. Fell is just soaking in the bath..." He took a long breath because he knew he'd enjoy this next line so much "...to soothe his thighs after a looooong night of intense…exercise.." His smile was wicked.

A flustered Mr. Brown buried his head back into his newspaper without another word.

"Cream puff, Mr. Crowley!” Nina was trying to get his attention. “Would you like two? One for you as well?"

"Oh, I've already devoured -" he began with a cheesy grin only to be cut off by Nina.

"NO!" She smacked her hand on the counter, her serious eyes betrayed by the start of a smile. "You behave or I'm telling your husband!" She laughed. "Two cream puffs, then."

"Right. Right. Yes, I'll take one, too!" Husband He needed a solid deep breath to keep his mind from wandering to a different space and to steady the dizziness that took hold of his head at that word. Husband

In the bookshop, Aziraphale moved the books that Crowley had tripped over earlier and walked over the window to watch him saunter into the cafe. Safe to activate the idea, he quickly picked up his telephone. His first call was to Maggie in the record shop next door.

“The Small Back Room, Maggie speaking,” answered the cheery voice on the other end of the line. “How may I help you?”

“Maggie! This is Mr. Fell next door. Listen, I need a favor.” he whispered secretively, twirling the phone cord in his fingers.

“Mr. Fell! Good morning to you. Anything for you, of course.”

“Oh thank you, my dear. Listen,” his voice was conspiratorial, “I’ve just sent Crowley to Nina’s cafe. Can you pop over and distract him for the next 10 minutes? I’m trying to set up a surprise.”

“How exciting! I’d love to help and I am sure I have just the thing to distract him. Is there anything else I can help with? I’m great at surprises.” She loved being included in things.

“That’s quite alright, dear. I need him distracted for just a moment. Oh, I do thank you.” He hung up and immediately dialed the next number.

“Good morning. New Hope Community Playhouse, this is Bernard here,” answered a friendly voice.

“Ah, yes, Bernard. I am calling to inquire about the Rocky Horror show playing at your establishment this month….”

Aziraphale had already agreed to go, so that wouldn’t be the surprise. Crowley hadn’t bought or “bought” tickets yet. Aziraphale knew that by him purchasing the tickets it would delight Crowley and calm his nerves, as he was still worried that Aziraphale didn’t actually want to go, knowing that the angel was very nervous about it.

“Mr. Crowley,” Nina was trying to get the attention of the gentleman staring into space.”Anthony!”

Crowley snapped back to his presence in the cafe. “Right! Uh...” it took him a moment to shake off the hazy feeling of the dreamworld he had slipped into - the one where “husband” meant something between him and Aziraphale.

“Was there anything else I can get for you?” she asked.

Crowley started to sputter out a few syllables that weren’t adding up to words when he was distracted by Maggie bursting through the door, holding an album.

“Mr. Crowley! There you are! Just the person I wanted to talk to!” Her mouth curled into a proud smile, knowing she was there to do an important job. She held out the album. “I was wondering if you could help me identify this album.”

Crowley took the album from her hands and considered it for a moment. A lovely gentleman with long wavy hair was elegantly lounging - as if about to be painted by Rossetti - on a chaise that had been draped in blue satin. Cards, both playing and tarot, were strewn all over the floor, save the one held in his hand - the King of Diamonds. Clad in knee-high leather boots, the androgynous figure was wearing a cream and blue dress, the buttons down the chest leaving gaps to expose the skin there. Ah, yes, Crowley knew this album and this image very well. He remembered the controversy spiked heavily with homophobia that was stirred by the photo of the man in a dress back in 1970. He loved the music - the darkness of it, the themes of struggling with mental illness, and the questioning disillusionment with God, Heaven, and Hell. He loved the cover photo, the blatant and brave androgyny displayed by the young man staring at the camera as if daring anyone to question his dress. He loved him.

Crowley pointed to the wording on the front of the album. “Says right here - David Bowie. Man Who Sold the World.” Crowley, a demon who is most definitely not nice, didn’t have the heart to point out the fact that she was wearing a David Bowie concert shirt. What exactly was she up to?

Oh Maggie, you tried, luv. “Oh…well…well…uh…did anyone ever tell you that you resemble him?” She was quickly scrambling for a way to extend conversation and do right by Mr. Fell.

“More so the other way around,” he mumbled.

He thought back to the first time he met this man on a January night in 1972, on Heddon Street in the West End. Crowley was engaging in a beloved pastime - gluing pennies to the ground - when he noticed the man and overheard his conversation with a photographer. The young singer was changing styles and experimenting with his image and had been set up for a simple photo shoot that was destined for a new album he was working on - a concept album with themes centered on space and not only being an alien, but feeling alienated. It was a subject the singer was very familiar with and it struck a cord with Crowley. It was cold and it rained and the young man - dressed in a grey and green jumpsuit with geometric patterns that was zipped down to expose his chest, and sporting hair that was now a cropped mousy blonde - wanted to appear lonely and alien in the alley to match the theme of his music and his mind. Obviously not meant to be there, Crowley had quickly snaked by the scene while the singer was beginning to pose outside of a furrier, under a K.West sign. “Hey!” the soon-to-be rock ‘n’ roll star yelled after him. Crowley should have been well-hidden, but this chap was a keen observer. “Hey! Great hair! What is that color?”

“My own!” Crowley had yelled back as he and his slinky hips kept walking. He heard more chatter behind him, making out the words, “did you see how he walked?” from the singer. Months later in the summer, Crowley was amused to see his hair color on the head of this chap as he debuted his music on “Top of the Pops.” Just barely a year after that, Crowley attended a concert and recognized his own slinky sway of the hips on the thin frame of the alien creature, who now styled himself as Ziggy Stardust. He would ultimately encounter Bowie many times over the years, not by accident, really, and the singer always noticed him and regarded him closely, studying him. Otherworldly beings easily recognized one another and Bowie had been no different in that regard.

Once again, someone was snapping him out of his dream space in the cafe. “What was that, Mr. Crowley?” Maggie was looking up at him, confusion in her expression.

“Nothing. Nothing. I mean, he had great style. I have great style. I’m a natural redhead, though.” he chuckled. Something was up. “What are you on about, anyway? What’s Aziraphale up to?” He’s an idiot, but not stupid.

“Mr. Fell? Uh…why…um…”I don’t know what Mr. Fell is doing. Haven’t spoken to him at all since…since yesterday!” You’re trying, sweet girl.

Amused, Crowley offered a knowing smile. “How long am I to stay in this shop?”

She was caught. She scrunched her face in embarrassment. “Ten minutes?” she squeaked out.

“Right….” he walked back to the counter and looked for Nina, who was hiding while trying not to laugh at the efforts of her darling Maggie. He got the attention of a new barista. “How ‘bout one of those sad foamy concoctions with cimamim…cinommony…cinnamon…sugar and a boat load of whipped cream on top. With some maple stuff in it, too. Those take a while to make, yeah?”

“A cinnamon latte with extra foam, sugar, two pumps of maple, and whipped cream on top? Name on the cup, sir?”

“Uh…sounds great.” It sounded disgusting. ”And…uh ‘Angel’ is good. It’s for my Angel,” he squinted his eyes at Mr. Brown who still hid behind his newspaper, trying desperately not to make eye contact with the possessive man. No matter, he’d feel the eye contact. Crowley made sure of that.

Upon receiving the latte, he bid farewell to the scheming Maggie and her Nina - not to Mr. Brown - and made his way to the book shop.

“What are you up to?” he asked the angel who nearly ran into him at the door in a flurry of his own excitement and anxiousness. He almost spilled the gross latte.

“Me?” Aziraphale laughed nervously, “why would I be up to anything?” He took the latte, “Oh thank you, my dear. Mind putting the cream puffs in the kitchen to save for later?”

“Later? You said you wanted them sooner than later. I had to run over and have strange conversations with your strange friends because you wanted these now.” He removed his glasses. “Oh now I know you’re up to something.”

“You’re being silly,” he scoffed as he opened the door. “Ah, how nice, there’s a cab right here!” He turned to Crowley and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. “I must dash, darling. I’ll be back in two shakes of lamb’s tail. Thank you for the treat,” he held up the sad foamy concoction. “I trust you’ll stay out of trouble while I’m gone.” He patted him on the cheek and walked cheerfully to the waiting black car.

“Aziraphale!” Crowley called out, but the angel only gave him a wave as he got into the cab. Crowley looked through the cafe window across the street to catch Mr. Brown, who craned his neck over the newspaper to watch Aziraphale get into the car. Suddenly, his newspaper ripped in half. “Shame about that,” Crowley mumbled to himself as he walked back into the shop. He flopped onto the sofa by Aziraphale’s desk and draped limbs over the back and one of the arms. With a snap, the gramophone began playing Bowie’s, “Man Who Sold The World Album.” He closed his eyes and let himself get lost in the music.

Aziraphale was back by mid-afternoon, finding a snoozing demon on his sofa, the gramophone spinning static as the album had long been finished. He sat on the edge of the cushion, causing Crowley to stir.

“Morning, Angel. Care for breakfast?” he stretched his long limbs and yawned, wiping a little bit of drool from the corner of his mouth.

“We had breakfast earlier,” Aziraphale said in amusement, running fingers through Crowley’s hair. “It’s the afternoon. I trust you had a good nap?”

“It was delightful,” Crowley answered. “Where did you get to?”

Aziraphale wanted to stretch this surprise out, to tease his demon and make him wait. Teasing and waiting was a favorite activity for them both. However, he was so excited and pleased with himself that he could just pop! “I have a gift for you, my dear boy. We’ll call it an early Halloween present.”

“For me?” his voice higher, as if he still couldn’t believe that this angel would be giving him gifts.

“For you.” Aziraphale pulled a plain white envelope out of the inside pocket of his jacket. “I trust you’ll be pleased with my selection.”

Crowley stared at the envelope for a second before reaching inside. He pulled out two tickets. New Hope Community Playhouse Proudly Presents: The Rocky Horror Show, Friday… Crowley read over the ticket a few times. They’d be going in less than a week, him and his angel. He was touched. Sure, Aziraphale already agreed to go and for that he was excited. He had also second-guessed himself and whether Aziraphale felt pushed out of his comfort zone to please Crowley. “You bought these? For me?”

“I did. They were nearly sold out, but miraculously there were two seats left. And with a great view.” He wiggled his shoulders in excitement. “I know you are probably second-guessing yourself and whether you’re pushing me out of my comfort zone.” It was almost as if he could read Crowley’s mind. “I’m excited to see this. I love being able to enjoy and explore new things so freely with you.”

Crowley clutched the tickets to his chest with one hand and used the other to pull Aziraphale on top of him. The two remained tangled together, clothes eventually stripped, until well after suppertime.

Crowley, cranky demon from hell, was happy.

Chapter Text

A few days had passed. Days in which Crowley gave Aziraphale a quick crash course in all things Rocky Horror. Together, they flipped through the book Crowley had bought at the trade show. He pointed out costume bits and lore to Aziraphale. They listened to an album, produced decades ago, that had been recorded during a showing of the movie and included the old school audience participation. Crowley noted where there were more modern changes in the call backs. They summoned the movie on the telly, studying it and talking about costumes, Crowley peppering in some classic call backs. And….Aziraphale was to learn the Time Warp. If he wanted, no pressure. Just, most of the audience would do it when the play got to that bit.

"It's simple, really," Crowley explained, "the song tells you what to do. When he says, ‘it's just a jump to the left,’ it really is just a jump to the left. And then you step to the right. Well, more like you tap your foot to the right side three times. I'll show you." Crowley demonstrated for Aziraphale who didn't quite know what he felt in the moment. The Time Warp was simple and he'd seen this before, one remembers, but that wasn't going to stop him from requiring a full tutoring session from his excited demon.

The two of them rewound the Time Warp part over and over as Aziraphale mastered the steps and laughed at himself. Crowley howled with laughter whenever they got to the "pelvic thrust" part. The sight of his angel with his knees pulled in tight, thrusting the air as if he was trying to impregnate it was leaving him gasping with laughter. "I can't handle this, Angel," he said, trying to catch his breath. "You're glorious."

"I'm nothing if not a serious performer, Crowley. The rest of the audience will surely be jealous when they see you go home with the man who can do this," he enthusiastically thrust his hips at Crowley and the two dissolved into laughter.

"Maybe leave the hips action to me, Angel." he chuckled.

"As long as you acknowledge that those ssssexy hipsss belong to me," he mimicked Crowley's hiss. "Now, let's finish this lesson, shall we?"

Over supper on the night before the play, Crowley and Aziraphale discussed what they'd wear.

"I'll probably just go as a regular slut. Or Frank 'n' Furter. I haven't decided yet," he said, dipping the bread Aziraphale made by hand into the chicken noodle soup, also homemade. He wiped an errant drip of broth from his chin, speaking with his mouth full, "You may be more comfortable dressing as the Narrator. His outfit is very much your style. Or Dr. Scot. Maybe Brad - from early in the movie. Not Brad in the tighty whities. Those options would all suit your style easily and won't push you out of a comfort zone, I think. Or…or you can dress as you. Anything you choose is perfect. I’m just happy you’re going."

"Perhaps," Aziraphale said softly as he demurely sipped his soup. "We'll see what I can work out tomorrow and I'll make my decision then." He knew he had safe outfits to choose from and there was no pressure to look any certain way for Crowley. He just…he was desperate to escape his perfect comfort zone. He had no idea how Crowley would ultimately look, but he knew that any choice was going to be hot and sensual and that he'd turn heads from folks of every single gender. All eyes would be on him. That's Crowley. He wanted to be able to match that energy. Well, not all the way. Just a little. A little more than he would be comfortable with. He wanted to feel free. As Crowley would say, he wanted his freak flag to fly.

Later that night, they lay in their bed with heaving chests. Crowley's hand was still gripping the headboard as he'd just been divinely railed by his angel and was certain he flew through at least 2 separate dimensions. Aziraphale was collapsed on top of him, head on his chest, breathing hard. The two were a sticky mess of lube, sweat, and cum. "I don't think I will ever get over how such a pure heavenly creature, who gets so flustered when he walks past a naked mannequin being dressed in a window or who walks very fast past the sex shops - don't think I hadn't noticed - can do the most sinful things with his body to my body. Glad to be immortal because I would have probably died by now. Happily, but quite dead." He closed his eyes, stuck his tongue out, and groaned to mimic a corpse before the two were shaking with giggles.

"It helps that you're the object of my affections,” Aziraphale noted. “There’s no one else that could bring this out of me.”

“Dunno ‘bout that, Angel.” Crowley freed his hand from the headboard and brought it down to stroke Aziraphale’s head. “Mr. Brown seems confident that he has a chance.”

Aziraphale groaned. “Don’t be a gossip, dear. You don’t don’t know that.” He tipped his head to look up at Crowley. “How could anyone think they have a chance when I have you?"

Crowley took a sharp breath. “S’not gossip if it’s true. Pretty blatant about it if you ask me. He wants to show you his world of carpets -" he chuckled a little too enthusiastically at his next line, "- in his pants." He was pleased with himself.

Aziraphale made a show of rolling his eyes and clicking his tongue at Crowley in mock disgust. "Must you? He is a kind man and is, frankly, terrified of you."

"As he should be," Crowley bared his teeth and growled. He may have been serious.

"Yes, dear. What can I say? I can't help it if all of this," he swept his hands in the air over his body, "is frankly too irresistible for him. I'm sure you understand."

"Ngk." Crowley swallowed. "Oh, I do understand.” He held Aziraphale tighter and took a deep breath of his soft, sweet-smelling hair. "You're the hottest creature ever created. I'm not possessive like that. Just annoyed at the blatancy. I do love knowing that someone has the hots for you and you're mine." He smiled.

"Then you know what it's like being me," Aziraphale whispered.

"Wot?" Crowley was confused. Because of course he would be.

"My dear, everywhere we go, all eyes are on you. You turn heads constantly. Everything about you is sensual - the way you move every limb, the way you walk - God, your hips - the way you sit, your entire shape, your face, your hair. Everything about you tempts and attracts the people all around when you are present. You know that. You're not only breathtaking and beautiful, you are also pure sex in a corporeal form." His shifted his upper body to look at Crowley more directly. "There is a delight for me there. Not only do I get to love you and spend the rest of my life with you," his voice lowered into a sultry tone, "I get to make love to you. I watch all these people look at you with desire and I'm the one that gets to take you home and squeeze you within an inch of your existence with my thighs as you suck me off. I get to fuck you. I get to be moved by you in every emotional and physical way possible. Pride may be a sin, but it's one I've enjoyed quite a bit with you over this past year.”

Crowley did know that. It's in his design. Master tempter and all that. The thing for Crowley is that he felt the same way about Aziraphale. And that’s what he told him. “You do realize that I often have the same feelings, hmm?” He kissed his forehead. “I don’t think you realize what you do to the people around you. You are a force. Magnetic. Comforting. More beautiful than anything else in Creation - here and Above.” He paused to kiss him again. “You glow. Literally glow. People look at you like they are seeing the sun and the stars for the first time. I see it all the time in their faces. Me? I’m cranky and angry and I’m never nice. You are warm, you draw people in with your entire essence as well as your beauty. I don’t think you realize that. “

Aziraphale sank his head back onto Crowley’s chest and the two of them lay silently for quite a while, just breathing each other in. Crowley’s arms were still tight around him, his hands lightly stroking skin. Aziraphale listened to the gentle pounding of Crowley’s heart.

After a while, Crowley spoke up. “Are you excited for the theater? For Rocky Horror?”

“I am,” Aziraphale answered. He paused to think of how to explain his feelings. “I’m very excited to go and it will be delightful to see you so happy, in your element. I…I don't ....I don’t know quite how…how to dress for it.” He lowered his voice. “I know I shouldn’t be, but I am worried about fitting in.”

Crowley’s heart broke. He rolled them both over so that he was on top of him, propped up so he could look directly into the stormy sea of the eyes staring back at him. “Aziraphale, that’s the point. Rocky Horror is a haven for outcasts. And we’re plenty good at being outcasts, aren’t we?” He smiled. “There’s no ‘fitting in.’ You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

“I want to feel free, Crowley. Not stuffy. Not uptight. Not pretentious. How do I do that? I’m worried I don’t have it in me.”

“I know I joke about you getting flustered over naked mannequins and sex shops. I love that side of you more than I can explain.” He sighed. “I’ve seen you unwind so much in the last almost year of us being…us.” He thought back to the first time they made love, when the angel was shy and timid. “I’ve watched you grow in confidence in so many different ways, outwardly and inwardly.” He ran a hand up and down Aziraphale's chest and belly. “The first few times we made love, you kept trying to hide yourself. You worried about doing everything right. You kept apologizing. All of that was such a gorgeous part of the process, but just look where we are now.” He leaned in for a delicate kiss. “You lay this beautiful body out for me to devour shamelessly. You’ve opened up every part of yourself to me. You speak to me in the most loving words and then flip to some of the most filthy language this demon has ever heard. We’ve had sex in public places and all over this bookshop and soon every room of the cottage - and in the gardens. You dominate me so well and tease me wickedly, always leaving me begging for more. I live to worship you. We love each other openly and freely and people notice, Aziraphale. In a good way. You’re more confident when we are out. It shows on your face, in your words, and the way you hold yourself.” He kissed him again. “Watching you change like this has been magnificent. I hope you can feel it.”

Aziraphale had no words, only tears. Crowley sees him - he always has. He pulled Crowley’s face towards his own for a deep kiss. “I’m lucky to have you as a guide through all of this.”

“We’re each other’s guides, Aziraphale. That’s how it has always been for us.”

He moved his mouth from the angel’s lips to his ear and then down his neck, lingering over his pulse point and leaving just the hint of a pink mark to smile about later. Moving lower, he trailed kisses all along the length of his collarbone and matched the movement on the other side. His lips eventually found a delightfully pink nipple. He rolled the tip of his tongue around it before giving it a broad lick, causing the angel to suck air between his teeth. Crowley kissed every conceivable inch of the soft skin of Aziraphale’s chest and his belly, working his way down to the thatch of white blond softness between his thighs. The angel's breaths were deeper and quicker as Crowley continued laying worshipful kisses down each scrumptious thigh. Crowley felt his quads twitch under the pressure from his lips.

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale’s voice was high and desperate, “I can’t wait. Please get inside me.” The emotion from their conversation had overwhelmed his body and he longed to feel completely connected.

“I love a hungry angel,” Crowley growled, before yelping as Aziraphale flipped him over and sat astride him, his thick thighs swallowing the demon’s hips under their flesh.

They laughed as they both miracled lube at the same time, each of them desperate to get to the next act. Aziraphale sunk down onto Crowley slowly with a soft cry, the plump cheeks of his ass pressing down onto the demon’s thighs. Crowley reached his hands up to caress Aziraphale’s chest and shoulders and then back down to trace the length of the quivering thighs squeezing against his hips and lower torso. He reached around to bury his fingers in the deep flesh at Aziraphale’s hips as the angel began to circle them around, slowly grinding down into the demon. He looked down where they connected, Aziraphale’s cornsilk hair framing the hardened cock thumping against Crowley’s belly, the auburn trail of his hair teasing the angel’s skin. The contrast was stunning. His own internal inferno was blazing out from his center and he now concentrated on the changing movement of Aziraphale’s body, now rising and falling over his cock - he could just see it with each move upward by the angel, a sight that drove him wild.

Aziraphale grabbed onto Crowley’s hands, which were still wrapped around his hips. He dropped his hips down with a sharp cry and began to grind back and forth, each thrust forward causing his own dick to swing wildly. The sensations in his ass rose up to meet the heat in his belly, threatening to break and crash through him. He wanted to grind himself down into the demon and cum, but he didn’t want this to be over so fast. He needed to slow down. “Sit up,” he commanded. Crowley obeyed. Aziraphale held onto Crowley’s shoulders to balance as he awkwardly shifted to untuck and move his legs, eventually wrapping them around the demon’s backside. “I don’t want this to end yet.”

Crowley cupped his hands under Aziraphale’s ass and lifted slightly so he could criss cross his legs under Aziraphale, supporting the thick cheeks of his lover. Still connected, they rocked together slowly. Crowley pulsed forward ever so slightly while Aziraphale circled his hips in small movements. Eyes together, their parted lips brushed lightly as they began to breathe deeply - first connecting their breaths and then alternating, one exhaling while the other inhales, creating a continuous circle of energy that moved throughout each of them, connecting them further. Arms were wrapped around backs and chests were pressed together as they continued to sway gently, holding on to one another as close as possible. Forehead to forehead. Gaze into gaze. Nose to nose. Lips to lips. Chest to chest. Belly to belly. Pelvis to pelvis. Cock to ass. Breath to breath. Crowley’s knees and thighs supported Aziraphale’s thighs and ass. The angel’s calves wrapped around Crowley, the soles of his feet pressed together, heels digging into the demon’s buttocks. They were connected and pressed together at every possible point, sharing breath and energy. They could feel the fiery energy of those breaths entering them, traveling through their bodies and through where they connected and back out over and over again. Intense pleasure built deep within each of them where they became one. It hitched a ride on the ropes of holy energy moving on those breaths and spread through their bodies. This was a sacred act. This was Heaven and Hell. The electrified fire of their breath energy broke off into thousands of pinpricks throughout their bodies, igniting their nerve endings and bringing silent cries forth from their chests. Aziraphale and Crowley became one being in the moment of their shared orgasm, their bodies gripped by their own supernova of pleasure. The power of it all overwhelms them, momentarily guiding their consciousness to a another plane where their wings are on full display as they slip in and out of the ether.

It’s Crowley who guides them back by kissing Aziraphale, breaking the circle of their energy and bringing their consciousness back to the earthly plane. Still locked in each other’s eyes, they match up their breaths again, slowing the pace. “My….God,” Crowley whispers.

“Indeed,” is all Aziraphale can manage to get out at first. He rests his head on Crowley’s shoulder until he is able to breathe more evenly. Lifting his head back up, he runs his hand along Crowley’s temple. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Crowley responds, leaning into Aziraphale’s hand. They don’t need more words in this moment, at least not ones that anyone on Earth would understand. They remain connected this way, leaning onto one another, kissing and rocking in each other’s arms until the stars give in to the sunlight.

It’s decided that they will shower this morning. They take plenty of time indulging in their ritual of washing one another, massaging exhausted muscles. After their shave, Aziraphale begins getting dressed while Crowley lounges on the bed in a dressing gown.

“I’ll follow you downstairs in a bit, Angel. I’m undecided about what I want to wear today. May keep it simple since I’ll be going big for the show tonight.”

Aziraphale kisses his cheek. “I’ll get the kettle on and start breakfast, dear.”

Once Aziraphale is down the hall, Crowley closes the door and then stands in front of the mirror. He lets the dressing gown fall to the floor. Taking in his reflection, he draws a long breath and lets it out slowly. He focuses his gaze on the flesh and hair between his legs. His penis is resting comfortably, snug within its foreskin, cradled by his balls. He runs a single finger up and down it’s length. It’s long and lanky just like him. “Well, chap, it’s been a good run this time. See you on the flip side.” He closes his eyes and gestures down below with his hand. He winces as he feels a soft burning sensation - altering oneself like this doesn’t come without a bit of discomfort - and a pinch deep in his abdomen.. Dizziness threatens to overtake him for a moment - he hates this part - and he eases it with a deep breath. With another steady breath he opens his eyes to look at himself again.

A large smile stretches across his face. “Hello, ol’ gal. Welcome back.”

Between his legs is the familiar thatch of auburn hair, now a little thicker and covering folds of skin between his thighs. Crowley reaches down and touches his vulva.

Chapter Text

Euphoria floods his mind as Crowley looks at himself in the mirror. An effort switch was just what he needed. Crowley has always felt more comfortable when he could give in to his gender fluidity. His fingers explore the folds of skin, stopping first at the little nub at the apex of it all. A tingle flows through him as the soft skin yields to his exploration. Two fingers slide between the lips, slowly seeking until….yes, there it is. His opening is already wet. He can’t help it - he’s already thinking of Aziraphale’s reaction…of what it will feel like having the angel’s nimble fingers explore him, his skilled tongue tasting him, his cock….”Oh…” a small cry escapes from Crowley’s lips. My, my…he is sensitive there. The very thought of Aziraphale is enough to send him over the edge. Not now. He wants to save that for tonight. It’ll be his little secret for the day. Until then, with a snap, a pair of black lace knickers covers him up, just a small spot of wetness stretching across the crotch. Another snap and he is in his usual tight trousers and snake belt. Today is a day for a concert tshirt - this one features Ziggy Stardust, surrounded by his own cigarette smoke, red hair ablaze in backlighting. Crowley winks at the gender-bending figure on his shirt and heads downstairs for breakfast.

In the early afternoon, they begin packing supplies in two separate shopping bags. These are no ordinary supplies. These are props for Rocky Horror. Each bag contains a water pistol, newspapers, glowsticks, a little bag of rice, several slices of toast, and playing cards.

“The lovely gentleman at the theater reminded me that toilet paper is not allowed at their shows. Apparently, it has been banned from many performances over the years - even before the pandemic.”

“Riiiiiiight,” Crowley mused. “It’s a bit of a big projectile to be throwing all around.” Sounds reasonable. Of course, this is Crowley. And Crowley was thinking about a time he went to Rocky Horror in the late 80’s. He thought it would be funny to lob a roll of toilet paper at an actor’s bum - at the appropriate time in the play, of course, he has manners. The actor turned suddenly whilst the roll was still midair and Crowley wasn’t quick enough to stop it with a miracle. Right into the family jewels. “It’s a safety thing.”

After dinner and dessert, Crowley got up from the table and kissed a “thank you” onto Aziraphale’s cheek. “Shall we start getting ready?”

They had decided they would miracle their outfits, especially since Aziraphale had no idea what to wear. Crowley wanted to apply his make-up himself.

Aziraphale swallowed. He was so nervous, but it was now or never. “Let’s get tarted up!” He followed Crowley into the bedroom. “I’m uh….I’m going to work things out in the bathroom, if you don’t mind. I’ll show you whatever choice I land on.”

“Remember, it’s all about your comfort level, Aziraphale. Don’t feel you need to be anything you don’t want to be.” Suddenly, there was a small vanity in the room. Crowley sank into the chair. “If you come out looking the same as you do going in, that’s perfect.”

Aziraphale walked into the bathroom and shut the door behind him. A floor length mirror appeared on the back of the door. There he was in its reflection, wearing clothing pieces that were nearly 2 centuries old. He didn’t want to go out there looking like him. He wanted to be free, to feel a bit sexy, even. He blushed at the thought of himself being sexy. He thought of his safe options. The Narrator and Dr. Scot were the closest to his style. He could even wear a bow tie. Brad was another safe option - trousers, a button down shirt, and a jacket. Riff Raff wasn’t too awful - that’s a tux and a hump and a wig. That would be silly and easy, but not sexy. There’s always Magenta or…..Well, maybe he could just go in something else. Crowley said people don’t always dress up as characters - some just dress to express themselves. It’s usually a bit sexy or even kinky, but some folks also simply come in jeans and t-shirts. Aziraphale stared at himself. Gah, he was so soft. He tried to think of some hot guy clothes. Maybe something rock and or roll. Maybe like those youths from back in the day with the spikey hair and the spikier clothes.

He wasn’t sure how much time passed where he just stared at himself. He looked at his face and its terrified expression. Why was breaking out of his shell so hard? Maybe a nose ring would help. Snap No, no certainly not. Rainbow hair? snap Well, with his curls it looked a bit clownish. Ugh. He let out a frustrated growl. He didn’t know how to look at himself in this way without feeling foolish. There was a knock at the door.

“You alright, luv?” Crowley called. “That’s a lot of miracles in there.”

“Tickety-boo! Just….just finalizing some options! Be out soon!”

“You could always dress as me.” Crowley laughed. “Be a bit hot, actually.”

That was it! snap He was head to toe in Crowley gear. One of his exact outfits - black shirt, black blazer, the snake belt, the silver tie, pants that felt like Aziraphale’s balls would shrivel and die from the constriction - how does someone who packs what Crowley is blessed with wear pants that tight? - and snake boots. “Oh dear, that’s not right at all.” He looked like he was just wearing a Crowley costume. Out of place. Oh, it was no use! Wait….he could dress like Crowley without dressing in his exact clothes. An homage, if you will. That’s what he would do. Okay, he’s got this. All black and slutty. Pops of red, too. A snake somewhere. Starting with the trousers - tight black trousers, but enough room so his personage could survive in there. Tight enough to strain over his thighs, though. He knew what he was doing. Shirt - a black button down. No, a t-shirt. No. A sheer button down tucked into his trousers. Ooooh, that looked nice. He undid the top few buttons, letting some hair peek through. A black and red snakeskin - faux because he is not a monster - belt was the next addition, followed by a black corset vest, cut with a deep V to show off the sheer shirt beneath it. He was very proud of his next addition. Manifesting onto his body was a snakeskin - again, faux because he is not a monster - blazer. It was a black and red ombre -starting at the shoulders, the deep black eventually blended into a deep red towards the hem. Shoes - those he would steal from Crowley - black snakeskin with red along the bottom edge. An Aziraphale touch - a black on black tartan bow tie with a thing red thread throughout, left untied around his collar. One last detail - the belt buckle. Would it be too on the nose to make it a snakehead, like his beloved? Yes. Black angel wings, with black and garnet stone details. He smiled. Genuinely smiled. Taking it all in, he felt very odd and very out of place, but also….hot. Confident. He felt confident. As long as he remained in the bathroom where he was safe. Oh, oh dear how would he be able to go out like this? What if people laughed at him?

“How we doing?” Crowley called out. “I noticed the miracles slowed. And my shoes have been stolen. Can I see?”

Aziraphale’s heart was beating faster by the second. He felt foolish. He should just change into his regular clothes. Or one of the safe costumes. No. No, he was going to do this. Crowley certainly wouldn’t laugh. He was safe to show Crowley at least and then maybe he’d back out. With a giant brave breath, he cracked the door open. “Don’t laugh, Demon.” He thought back to the night Crowley worried about Aziraphale laughing, when he dressed as Macbeth. He was nervous, too. Well, if it’s good for the demon, it’s good for the angel.

Crowley was seated at the vanity, diligently applying eyeliner. He was dressed in one of his more dramatic dressing gowns, which was sumptuous and flowing, covering all of him so no one could peep his outfit yet. Just the shoes, which….he turned around at the sound of the door opening. He stood up to greet his brave angel, excited to see what he would wear. “Holy fuck. HOLY FUCK,” he fumbled and dropped his eyeliner on the floor.

Aziraphale was standing in front of him. “Is it stupid? I couldn’t make a decision and then you said to dress like you and then I looked quite silly but then I thought maybe I would do an homage and I hope the snakeskin doesn’t offend you and it’s fake anyway but you are my favorite snake and this is my interpretation of….” he couldn’t stop his nervous rambling, his mind was swirling, but his lips were stopped by a kiss from his demon.

“Look at you,” Crowley said, holding both of the angel's hands in his and taking a step back to look him up and down, drinking him in. “You’re gorgeous. Holy shit, Aziraphale. Look what you've come up with.” His jaw hung open. “Give us a twirl.” Aziraphale turned around. “Hot as fuck. Hot as fuck. And my shoes look great on you.” He winked.

“You really think so?” Aziraphale asked nervously. Slowly, the confidence he felt briefly in the bathroom was returning.

“I know so. I’m so proud of you.” His giant smile overtook his face. “I knew you had it in you, you old tart.”

“Can I….Can I see you?”

Crowley opened his dressing gown and slid it off his shoulders and dropped it to the floor. He cocked his hip - of course - and rested his hand there. “I went full Frank ‘n’ Furter, but I made my shoes red bottoms." Crowley was nearly 7 foot tall in black and white glittery platform shoes - with the addition of red bottoms. Fishnet stockings adorned his long legs, stopping at his thigh, where they were held in place by a glittery black garter belt. Silk black knickers and a corset vest covered in sparkles and loosely laced at the front, exposing some skin, completed the look. “I’ve got long gloves, too, “ he gestured to the gloves, which matched the glittery black of the corset, on the vanity. A circle of giant pearls adorned his neck. He wore his red hair curly and parted to one side and falling close to one eye. Eyes were done in smokey black glitter with a hint of blue, framed by well-defined brows and winged liner. His lips were a glossy scarlet red lined in black. He was a vision of gender-bending beauty and Aziraphale was left speechless.

“You like?” Crowley asked, picking his eyeliner up from the floor. Crowley was in, gag, Heaven. He felt so good, so validated in what he chose to wear.

“I love. You’re so beautiful.” Wait. “Your eyes? You did all that make-up, but your glasses….”

“People’ll think they’re contacts. If my angel can slut it up for me, I can let my snake eyes show. Just for tonight. I’ll be sure people will forget tomorrow.” He winked.

“Can….can I wear a little make-up, too? Oh maybe that's too much.”

Crowley looked at him in wonder. “I was hoping you’d ask," he said softly. "Have a seat.” He held the chair out for Aziraphale. "This is the best canvas I've ever worked with."

Aziraphale has worn make-up before throughout the ages. And The Marvelous Mr. Fell was no stranger to a touch of mascara, eyeliner, and a drawn on moustache. This was more than a touch of mascara. This was a lot of mascara that Crowley was masterfully applying to his lashes. He tried not to blink too much as Crowley gently blew on his lashes to dry it. Crowley leaned over him as he worked and Aziraphale caught his gaze for a moment. The look of adoration and pure love on his demon’s face took his breath away. He really did think he was beautiful, didn’t he?

“You look like Heaven,” Crowley said as he dusted a little highlighter - whatever that was - over the angel’s cheekbones. A brush brush here and a dab dab there and he was finished. “Tell me what you think.”

The angel's breath was taken away as he caught his reflection in the mirror. Aziraphale looked….stunning. Crowley had applied a holographic glitter shadow to the angel's eyes, which were framed by black liner on the top lid and plenty of mascara. His bottom lid was lined with his favorite sky blue color, making the blue in his eyes stand out. Highlighter…well….highlighted his cheeks and his nose. He looked every bit the ethereal creature that he was. With a slutty red lip. His lips were the same shiny scarlet as Crowley’s, but Crowley had applied just a hint of gold dust to the angel's. He met Crowley’s beaming reflection behind his own in the mirror and offered him a bright smile.

“What do you think, Angel?”

“You have an amazing talent. I….look….I feel…very beautiful. Very beautiful indeed, my dear.” His words were true. He actually felt beautiful. He could see what Crowley sees.

Crowley wanted to cry. He has wanted this moment so badly - to hear his angel speak those words about himself. His heart was going to burst. However, “Fuck, Angel, you’re going to make me cry. We can’t ruin our make-up.” They laughed instead.

“Ready?” Crowley asked as he donned a leather jacket covered in buttons, studs, patches, and a few chains. An exact replica of the one worn by Frank 'n' Furter in the movie. Knowing Crowley, it was likely the exact jacket from the set.

They descended the stairs carefully. Aziraphale walked in front of Crowley and held his hand as he navigated the steps in his heels. “Discorporation by glittery platform shoes would be a hell of a way to go,” the demon quipped. He didn't really need the help, but Aziraphale lit up when he took his hand.

They grabbed the shopping bags of Rocky Horror props that they’d left down there hours ago. Before walking out the door, Crowley pulled Aziraphale close to him. “I’m so, so proud of you. " He kissed him softly, slowly. Thankfully, there are miracles that keep you from smearing your lipstick while kissing your angel. "You're breathtaking."

Aziraphale felt a pinch of nerves as they stepped out the door into the night air. Heads did turn. He swallowed his nervousness and held his hand out for Crowley, once again helping his nearly 7 foot tall demon down from the doorstep.

The Bentley was parked right at the kerb so they didn't have a far walk among people to get to it. As they were in Soho, the goth angel and his towering demon in sparkling knickers weren’t the most unusual sight. However, they somehow managed to see everyone they knew, which was just great for Aziraphale's nerves.

First, it was Nina and Maggie, giggling together and holding hands as they locked up the record shop. They quickly noticed Aziraphale and Crowley. "Oi! You boys! Look at you. How fabulous!!" Nina called.

"I need a picture of you two!" Maggie yelled as they made their way over. "You both look so glamorous! Say 'Rocky!'" She held up her phone as Aziraphale and Crowley posed together. Aziraphale stood up straight, hands folded neatly in front of his belly. Crowley draped one arm over Aziraphale's shoulder, cocking his hip into him, and shooting a finger gun with the other hand. “I’ll send this to you tomorrow, Mr. Crowley.”

“You gals have fun,” Nina called out after the bid them goodbye.

Whew, that wasn’t so bad. You can do this, Aziraphale.

“Slay queens!!” came a voice down the street. Mrs. Sandwich was at the door of her establishment, waving furiously.

They almost made it to the Bentley, hand in hand, before the next person spoke up. “Well now, this is certainly interesting.” It was Mr. Brown, carrying a bag of takeaway and his ever-present newspaper.. “Headed out for the evening, are we?” His eyes darted back and forth between Aziraphale and Crowley, not knowing exactly where to land. He settled on Crowley, looking him up and down - terrifying despite the heels - or, more likely, extra terrifying because of them.

“Nah, just a quick nip out to grab some condoms and lube at Tesco. We go through them so quickly. You want in?” Crowley sneered.

“Crowley, let’s behave” Aziraphale muttered under his breath. He squeezed his hand and began walking to lead the pretty - and petty - demon to the car.

“Your…your eyes?” Mr. Brown was puzzled.

“Contacts, Mr. Brown. We’re going to an interactive show.” Aziraphale’s voice was smooth and measured. “Now, if you’ll excuse us. Wouldn’t want to be late. Cheerio!” He opened the door for Crowley.

Crowley couldn’t just sit in the car. Of course not. He turned to look at Mr. Brown as he slowly dipped down and slid his bum into the seat, pulling one long leg into the car, leaving just outside, spreading his legs. He slowly drew his hand up his thigh to the hook of one of the garters and gave it a snap before bringing his leg into the car and closing the door.

Aziraphale was already seated. "Crowley, must you!” he chided his demon.

He must. “Wot? He had his dinner. I was merely giving him a show. Bit generous if you ask me.” he turned the ignition and peeled away from the kerb with a screech of the tires.

A short drive and a lot of anxiety for Aziraphale later, they arrived at the quaint theater and parked in it’s tiny lot.. Situated near a creek, the pre-War building was framed in white, with a red roof and red lettering that read New Hope Playhouse. . A small clapperboard outside advertised the Rocky Horror Show about to take place.

What caught Aziraphale’s breath were the people standing outside, waiting for the doors to the theater to open. Glitter, leather, heels, nerdy glasses, slips, bras, corsets, tuxes, fishnets, thigh highs, red lips. There was so much to take in as the crowd was filled with people in various forms of character costume or a wide variety of clothing styles. Crowley was right - this was the place for people who may otherwise feel judged or outcast in their self-expression. The gender bending and fluidity was astounding. Freak flags were certainly flying high.

“Ready?” Crowley asked eagerly with a toothy smile. God, he was gorgeous.
Aziraphale blew out a hesitant breath. He knew he'd have to leave the warm safety of the Bentley eventually. “Let’s give ourselves over to absolute pleasure, shall we,” he says, quoting a line from the show.

Crowley’s smile is infectious as he leans in to kiss him. “Let’s go, Angel.” He turns to open the door before rapidly closing it again. “One more thing - if anyone asks if you are a virgin, you say ‘no.’ Trust me.”

“Well, of course. I’m not. I haven’t been a virgin for nearly a year now.”

Crowley laughs as he opens his door. “You’ll see what I mean and you’ll thank me. Got the tickets?”

“I do,” Aziraphale answers as they grab their prop bags and step out of the car. Aziraphale circles the Bentley to reach Crowley and grab for his hand. Bravely, he soldiers forward into the crowd with his demon.

All eyes are on Crowley. Transfixed by him. Words like “hot” and “gorgeous” are whispered. Some folks come up to him and tell him how amazing he looks and it’s one of the best likenesses they have seen. His contacts are a focal point for many. “Old optometrist of mine, he no longer makes these,” Crowley would answer to those who asked where they could get their own.

Aziraphale feels out of place for a moment, but also proud as Crowley snakes his arm around his waist, claiming him. Unaware of his demonic magnetism, people are drawn to him and circle around the couple. It takes him more than a few moments to realize there is a sizable amount of attention on him, too. Wait, what?

“That’s the coolest suit I’ve ever seen, mate.” someone tells him.

“Holy shit, your make-up is stunning.” A compliment from another stranger.

“I’m obsessed with this whole look,” a person dressed as Colombia waves their hands in front of Aziraphale. “This is peak hotness.”

“That jacket is fierce and your face looks divine. You’re like a mix of an angel and a demon. I love everything about this,” comes another voice. “How do you glow like that?”

“Are you two interested in having a third join you tonight?” asked one person, while another made a different offer to Aziraphale, “if he doesn’t take you home tonight, I will.”

Crowley laughs warmly at the proposition. “This divine creature is all mine.” He squeezes around the angel’s waist and whispers into his ear, “Look what you’ve done to them. They’re enamored with you. You’re so, so beautiful inside and out.” No, no, can’t ruin the eyeliner - he dabs at a tear escaping the corner of his eye. “I hope you can feel it.” Nothing else matters to him in this moment except the knowledge that his gorgeous angel is drawing his own crowd.

The murmuring begins to pick up as the theater doors open. “Here we go,” Crowley says, stepping forward toward the entrance with Aziraphale.

There are people dressed in 50’s-style usher uniforms and glamorous make-up helping people find their seats. As Aziraphale passes by, he is stopped by one. “Are you a Virgin?” They hold up a tube of lipstick.

“Well, if you must know, in this past year -” he begins, already forgetting Crowley’s advice. Thankfully, his kind demon steps in.

“He’s seen this a million times, luv.” He gently pushes Aziraphale away from the usher and towards their seats. Once seated, Crowley points to the front of the stage, where people are being brought up. They each have a V drawn on their face with lipstick. “You’ll see why I saved you in just a while. Fun stuff, done it many times myself, but might’ve been intense for my angel.”

Aziraphale feels fuzzy in his body and his head. He rubs his thumbs in constant circles between the thumb and index finger of his other hand. The energy in the theater is electric and exciting. His nerves are still fully present and at attention, but he is beginning to feel a warm sensation of anticipation work through him. It’s both stimulating and calming, somehow. He feels like…like he belongs. He looks at the demon next to him, who is absolutely beaming with glee as he talks to a couple in front of them about various costume bits and his "contacts." He looks around, taking in everything and everyone around him. The theater is charming, decorated to match its original pre-Blitz glamour.. It’s a stunning contrast to the debauchery buzzing through its rows of seats. His attention is suddenly grabbed by a voice over the microphone and Crowley’s elbow nudging him.

Up in front of the stage, various ushers walk back and forth in front of the folks lined up there. “Let’s hear it for our virgins!” they yell, bringing forth a hearty applause and screaming from the crowd. “Now, you all have a job to do. Virgins, you’ll give us your best orgasm voice. Audience, you’re job is to vote for your favorite. I want to hear ‘ohhhhhs.’ I want to hear, ‘ahhhhhhhs,” and I want you to make alllllll of these seats wet.” The audience, including Crowley, screamed their applause. Aziraphale clapped demurely.

One by one, the V’s up front gave their best orgasmic performance, with the dutiful audience responding with their cheers. It was an unassuming and slight young chap, wearing a simple boa over a t-shirt and jeans that gave the audience what they wanted - the sluttiest, dirtiest, most desperate moans that had people standing and yelling their favor. Crowley looked at Aziraphale in amusement and the angel balled his fists together and gave a small, “woo-hoo.”

Crowley leaned into his ear, “What I’ve heard from you in bed would have beat him.” As it was loud in the theater, Crowley’s voice boomed higher than intended and the person sitting next to Aziraphale overheard him.

“Alright, mate!” the man laughed. He was dressed in a blue bathrobe and nothing else. His smile was decorated by black lipstick. He held up his hand for a high five. “I can tell you two fuck like mad.”

Aziraphale, good sport, high-fived him back. And blushed when Crowley’s leaned in and yell-whispered, “that we bloody well do, mate." Aziraphale’s entire body tingled. As ushers guided the last of the theater goers to their seats, the lights began to dim. Aziraphale placed his hand on Crowley’s thigh and began to slide it up to his garter.

Crowley placed his hand over his and laced their fingers. Normally, he’d let Aziraphale’s hand complete the trip between his legs, but the angel was still unaware of what was hidden by Crowley’s knickers. That surprise was for later.

An excited hush fell over the crowd as a voice boomed over speakers. “Welcome, ladies and gentlemen and others. Before we begin, we have a few announcements. Exits are clearly marked. Bathrooms are in the back of the theater as well as outside in the lobby. No flash photography. This is a night to get wild, but don’t be a dick - unless you’re going to fuck me later.” The audience roared. “Absolutely no vaping. And no open flames,” the voice turned sultry with a languid laugh, “unless, of course, you’re me. Now, gimme an ‘R…gimme an ‘oohhhhhhhh,” the voice moaned, “gimme a ‘C’…gimme a special ‘Kaaaay’....gimme a ‘Y.”

The audience responded to the roll call with each letter, mimicking the orgasmic “ooohhhhhh.” Crowley included. Aziraphale was still battling his shyness. Crowley gave him an encouraging nudge.

“What’s that spell?” the voice demanded.

“Rocky!”

“I can’t hear you!”

“Rocky!”

“One more time!”

On this one, Aziraphale joined in with a hearty, “Rocky!” He could do this.

The curtains opened to reveal figures clad in lingerie, beginning to sign the opening song

“On our feet!” the audience called back. And thus began the opening of the show, audience participation in full swing.

Aziraphale had never felt anything quite like this before. He felt both part of something, welcomed, yet on the edges of it, unsure of his place. Everything happening around him was like his beloved demon - wild, unashamed, feral, free. His palm encircled the fingers of the opposite hand, rubbing and clenching them. You can do this, Aziraphale. You can be free. The tight bud of the nervous wreck of an angel longed to bloom. He was broken by his trance as the song came to an end and Crowley poked at him.

“Grab your rice, “ he whispered, holding up his own bag of it.

The sound of rustling bags filled the theater as everyone around them did the same.

A scene with a church door and a bride and groom unfolded on the stage. With laughter and hollers, the crowd began to throw rice at the stage. Aziraphale quickly joined and tossed rice along with them. Slowly, the bud opened.

No one was here to judge him. No one cared that he was an ancient creature set in his fussy ways. He could enjoy this. And he did, giggling when it was time to hold newspapers over their heads, shooting water pistols through the crowd. He waved his glow stick along with everyone else and happily screamed “Asshole” when the character of Brad Majors introduced himself. Slowly, the layers were peeling away.

When it came time for the Time Warp, Aziraphale dutifully got up with his demon and the rest of the audience and followed along. It wasn’t until the end of the song, when he collapsed back into his seat with Crowley, laughing and cheering, that he realized he hadn’t even thought if people were watching him or making fun of him. He was just enjoying himself. It started to creep in…he was beginning to feel what he had longed for.

Crowley noticed Aziraphale’s mask coming off slowly. He was having the time of his life with his angel and his heart was swelling at the sight of the uptight principality letting his hair down and losing the insecurity that had plagued him. So much was changing for the both of them and his bitter heart was beginning to glow.

He wanted to plant a kiss on his cheek - and he did - when the narrator commented, “there are those who say, ‘life is an illusion,” and Aziraphale was the first one to yell, “Like your fucking neck!” There you go, angel, keep blooming.

Toast was thrown, lines were yelled back, laughs erupted constantly, but the moment that made time seem to stop occurred when the character playing Frank ‘n’ Furter was poking at Brad Majors (asshole) with the handle of a whip. Suddenly, a booming voice screamed, “Unless you’re a licensed proctologist, please stop poking the asshole!” Crowley nearly broke the sound barrier whipping his head to the source of the shout - it was his angel.

There was a momentary silence in the audience before everyone, including the actors on stage howled with laughter and applause. The people in the seats around Aziraphale excitedly slapped his shoulders and clapped for him. The actor playing Frank ‘n’ Furter was so overtaken by laughter that he needed to take a moment to regain composure, but not before peering in to the audience and pointing the whip handle at Aziraphale. “My loves, all hail our king!” The audience responded with a generous roar of approval.

This was a moment that Aziraphale may have felt he flew too close to the sun. He would normally want the attention off of him. But, no, our flower has bloomed. Aziraphale felt free. So free that he stood up and bowed.

As the play continued, Aziraphale looked over at Crowley to find him staring back at him with a look that Aziraphale knew well. It was a look that Crowley gave when he watched the angel eat and when he watched him undress, when he would ask him to touch himself. It was the look he first encountered on the other side of a plate of ox ribs, when he and Crowley sheltered in Job’s basement.

For his part, Crowley wanted to stop time. He wanted to hold onto this moment, when Aziraphale was feeling confident and able to give in to some good old fashioned, probably slightly satanic fun. Aziraphale was glowing on his own, make-up be damned. This is what he wanted for his angel. If anything, Crowley was overjoyed that he could give this gift to Aziraphale. Aziraphale was a wild and untamed thing, giving himself over to absolute pleasure and Crowley wept at the heaviness of it all. Quick to hide his tears, he wondered if anyone ever cried at a performance of Rocky Horror. Well, there was that one time when a certain demon was too enthusiastic with his water pistol and may or may not have directed a stream directly into the eye of the person playing the narrator. Amazing they didn’t ban the water pistols back then.

No drugs needed, Crowley and Aziraphale were absolutely high as kites as they departed the theater. Several people came up to them and told Aziraphale that he had the best line of the night. People passed over Crowley to speak to the angel and fuss over him. The demon couldn’t be more pleased. And turned on. They had kissed and clumsily pawed at each other several times during the show. As much as he loved Rocky Horror and had longed to see it with Aziraphale, Crowley needed to get out of there and get the angel home. His knickers had practically been soaked through for much of the show and it had nothing to do with water pistols.

Back in the Bentley, Aziraphale started to tell Crowley that he had a lovely time, but his lips were stopped by the feverish pressing of Crowley’s mouth on his. Aziraphale could feel himself stiffening between his legs and moved to glide a hand between Crowley’s legs. He didn’t want to go home. He wanted to pull off into a secluded road or even just cast a miracle to shield them there and ravish the demon in the backseat. “Let me fuck you now, demon,” his voice was husky and desperate as his palm ran along Crowley’s thighs.

Crowley stopped his hand and wiggled his index finger at him. “Uh uh. No touching.”

A broken cry slipped from the angel’s lips. “I simply must have you now. “ He was feeling euphoric.

“You’ll need to behave for me. Hands folded in your lap, pretty boy.” He laughed as he peeled out of the parking lot.

Despite the speed and the constantly green traffic signals, the ride home took forever. According to Aziraphale. Not only that, but Crowley refused his advances. No fingers exploring the knickers. No bites to the neck. Not even a kiss to the wrist. Aziraphale was to behave.

Crashing through the front door of the bookshop, Crowley laughed as Aziraphale whined and pointed to the very obvious bulge in his very tight trousers. “I have no idea how you wear anything this tight, Crowley. I’m afraid it’s going to discoporate on its own.”

Crowley chased the angel upstairs, not missing a single step in his platform shoes. He was soaking between his thighs now in eager anticipation of showing his angel the new look. Tumbling into the bedroom in a clumsy embrace with the angel, Crowley slowed down. He’d been riding high on the euphoria of the night, but he didn’t want to rush things. This was their first time with his newly configured effort and he knew his emotions would get the better of him if he didn’t maintain some sort of control and slow himself down. He felt a bit daft, but he admitted to himself that he wanted this to be special.

“Angel, slow down,” he requested as Aziraphale was hungrily biting at his neck and pulling at the laces of his corset. “I need to slow down.” He ached so badly between his legs, but he was making the best choice for his heart.

“I’m so sorry, Crowley, I got caught up and…and…” He needed to catch his breath. Aziraphale was always careful with Crowley and he did his best not to make it obvious. The demon has frequently needed breaks and patience throughout this growth of their sexual relationship. Even when he is in a more dominant role, Aziraphale is very mindful to check in and remain aware of Crowley’s needs.

No…no…you haven’t done anything wrong, Angel. Just need a moment. We’re both riding high on this night and I want to take it slower.” A slow kiss reassured his angel. “First, I am so proud of you tonight. So proud. Don’t worry - I’ll save the emotional speeches for after we - “ he smiled. “You were so sexy. So beautiful. And so free. It was beautiful to witness.” He stood back and looked over his angel. “I hope we revisit this soon.”

“Thank you for encouraging me tonight. I couldn’t ask for a better guide, my dear.” He brought Crowley’s hand up to his mouth for a kiss. “You are constantly leading me through new experiences and I am loving every moment of this new life with you.” A kiss to the wrist. “I can’t wait to see what other surprises you have in store for me.

Surprises. “I have a few up my - sleeve.You’re not the only magician here,” he said with a wink. He leaned down, way down thanks to his heels, for a kiss. “First, let’s get these shoes off me.” With a snap, he was in stocking feet and at his normal height. He pulled Aziraphale closer to him by the loose bowtie around his neck and kissed him. “Have a seat. I have something to show you.”

Aziraphale sat on the bed and looked up at Crowley. He registered a flicker of nervousness on the demon’s face.

Crowley took Aziraphale’s hands and placed them on each hip. “I want you to touch me.” He sucked in a breath as Aziraphale circled his palms around his hips that were poking out between the top of his garter belt and the bottom of his corset. “Lower. You know what to do.”

Indeed he did. Aziraphale’s hands ran a path from Crowley’s hips, down to the top of his thighs, letting them travel inward. Crowley’s skin was warm, but it didn’t stop the gooseflesh from spreading as the demon shivered under his touch. He smelled different - Aziraphale couldn’t quite place it. His knickers looked different. He realized Crowley wasn’t hard. He trailed his hand to that secret heat between his legs and…this is new. He gasped.

Crowley gasped right back at him. The feel of Aziraphale’s hot hand just at the very top of his mound, nearly touching where all of the sensation was fired up. His pulse quickened. He could feel it throb deep within him.

Aziraphale hooked his fingers around the waistband of the knickers. Looking up to reach a golden gaze, he asked, “May I, my love?”

Crowley nodded, the throbbing in his middle growing stronger. The wetness in his pants was spreading.

Aziraphale felt intoxicated by the scent. He gently lowered the waistband of the knickers, pulled them ever so slowly down his thighs until they were caught by the fasteners of the garter belt. “Oh…Crowley.” Before him, in a soft thatch of auburn curls, were folds of pale and pink skin, flushed and inviting. “Crowley, you… you’ve changed.”

Chapter Text

“Is this alright, Angel? I can…change it back if you’d prefer.” Crowley's eyes carried a trace of worry.

"This is perfect, my darling. You are perfect to me no matter your shape." Aziraphale wasn't sure what to do next. The room was silent save for their breathing, a dim light streamed through the door from the hallway. Aziraphale was aware of the faint jingle of the chains on Crowley's leather jacket - he was shaking. Aziraphale stood up and leaned in to kiss him, slipping off the jacket before removing his own. He knelt before Crowley.

"May I touch you there?"

Crowley nodded. "Please."

Aziraphale timidly reached a hand up to finger through the curls at the point between his thighs, which were pressed tightly together. "Can you step your legs apart ever so slightly, darling?" Crowley did as asked. "Perfect."

Aziraphale's fingers found their way lower, tracing the outer edges of the plump lips, back and forth in light, reverent motions. He was transfixed by the velvet softness of the outer lips, his fingers sensing the wetness gathered there. Moving to the pinnacle, he found a little nub protruding, covered under its own tiny hood. Aziraphale did not have experience touching someone else like this, but he had done it to himself long ago when he tried out the same anatomy. He knew what felt good. He traced his fingers around the clit, bringing forth a cry from his demon.

Crowley quickly plunged a hand into the angel's hair. His breath was coming quick now. The wetness down below was heavier. Long forgotten nerve endings woke up with a jolt, sending vibrations from that damp hot center all the way through his body to the crown of his head.

Aziraphale moved fingers down to trace the soaked inner lips, running all along them before settling just at the base of this whole beautiful pussy. He found the source of the wetness, opening in welcome, trembling just so. He circled a finger lightly around the hole, careful not to penetrate it. It wasn't time for that yet.

Crowley's legs began to shake and he worried that his knees may stop functioning. A familiar boneless feeling was beginning to overtake him as nimble fingers explored his secret parts, awakening and teasing nerves, sending electricity and butterflies through him.

"Aziraphale," his voice was a cry laced with pleading.

Aziraphale leaned back onto his heels, running his hands up and down Crowley's legs, the fishnet tickling his skin. His cock was pounding as his blood ran through him, desperate to be freed from its tight enclosure. He rose up off his heels, still in worship on his knees, and cupped his hands around Crowley's ass, kneading the flesh. Looking up to meet his eyes, his voice low and unsteady in what he was about to say.

"I would like to taste you."

All of the air left the demon. He was most definitely only standing because of miracles and not because the bones and muscles of his corporation were useful.

"Y-yes, Angel. Go on," there was a hint of fire in his eyes and he smirked, “have a little taste."

Aziraphale's eyes responded with their own fire. A wet spot was soaking through near the zipper of his trousers. He moved his face closer to the source of his temptation. His nose pressed into the auburn hair there and he inhaled deeply. The earthy smell of him danced in his head and left him feeling as if he were drunk. He held onto the top of Crowley's thighs, his thumbs rubbing where they creased. Closing his eyes, he opened his jaw and unfurled his tongue into the welcoming wet heat.

It was Crowley who first tempted this timid angel to eat long, long ago as they sheltered from God's wrath. It was now Crowley who hissed his breath between his teeth and let out a soft high-pitched cry from his throat, blessing his hungry angel. There would be no wrath this time. No guilt. Only pleasure and sacred gluttony.

Aziraphale moved delicately. He didn't quite know what to do yet, but Aziraphale knows how to eat and he was determined to make a fine meal out of this demonic offering. His ears were full of the sounds of Crowley's hitched breaths and soft moans. Hands were aimlessly wandering through his hair. He licked and kissed at the lips, tongue stretching and searching through the folds until it found the small soft bud nestled there. He outlined it with the tip of his tongue, moving back and forth over it and then circling it. The taste…the smell…the feel of Crowley's pulse in there…Aziraphale was lost in the sensation. He nuzzled in closer and used his fingers to part the thicker lips, exposing the clit under her hood and the juicy pink wetness of Crowley's inner folds. Connoisseur of fine foods, Aziraphale has never tasted anything like this before. Crowley was tangy and sweet, sometimes earthy and metallic. All rolled into one heavenly sensation that had Aziraphale questioning his grip on consciousness. Of all the meals he consumed, this was already a fast favorite and one the angel knew he'd never tire of.

Aziraphale felt Crowley's thighs tighten in an attempt to stem the trembling that took over him. The demon curled over Aziraphale, shaking from the pleasure.

"I do think we ought to lie down, demon." The angel stood up and began to take off his clothing. Crowley stopped him.

"Wait, let me do it. You looked so beautiful tonight and I want to take it all in as I take it all off.” He snapped and their makeup was gone, making a note to be sure they get made up like that again. He pulled the bowtie loose from the collar.

"We should find other uses for this someday," he hissed. The corset vest was next, dropped to the floor. One by one, the buttons of Aziraphale's shirt were undone by long, graceful fingers. Crowley worked the belt while Aziraphale shifted his shirt off.

"The angel wings are a nice touch for someone who behaved like a demon tonight." Finally, the trousers. Crowley knelt as he undid the button and zippers, pulling at the waistband. Finally free, Aziraphale's cock sprang forward like a rocket. Crowley worked his skilled fingers along it before engulfing it in his mouth. Moving up and down, he sucked Aziraphale until the angel's own legs started to shake. A few long licks to the shaft and the head took care of the surprisingly hefty amount of pre-cum.

"Delicious." He stood to bring his mouth to the angel’s, sharing the heady taste of him, swallowing to moan that came out of Aziraphale's mouth.

Aziraphale pulled at the laces on Crowley's corset. Once free, Crowley was topless, save for the strand of pearls. He unfastened the garter buckles to slide the panties down his legs. He left the garter belt and fishnets on the demon.

"I quite like you like this." He gently nudged the demon onto the bed, crawling over him as his head hit the pillow, his cock dragging so close, yet so far from the beckoning wetness between Crowley's thighs.

"I'm not done eating." He kissed all along Crowley from his neck to his chest to his navel and back down to his new favorite meal. Crowley spread his hips wide and rested one leg on Aziraphale's back. The angel dipped his head back to the sweet tangy darkness, stopping to take in the scent once more. His fingers danced among the folds, finding that dark center once again, teasing the inside of it to heavy moans from the demon. Aziraphale was in awe of the sight - Crowley's slinky hips spread wide, the garter belt draped over them, his folds opened and desperate, pink lips engorged, clit throbbing, and a delicious wetness seeping from that blessed hole. A feverish hunger took over and he was back down on Crowley there, lapping up the juices of his lover, his tongue moving in broad strokes like a paintbrush on a masterpiece. His lips closed over the clit, alternating between kissing it and sucking on it as Crowley's hips began to circle and sway in an intoxicating motion.

The demon's hands were reaching, grabbing for anything - hair, an ear, Aziraphale's face, a shoulder. Pleasure shot forth from his depth bringing warmth and shimmers of sensation to his entire body. His stars moved from wherever they were in the sky to behind his eye lids, his brain a nebula of twirling thoughts and pleasure. His ears were filled with the hot pulses of his blood, but he was vaguely aware that he was crying out in hard moans and trying desperately to say, "Azir…Az…Zir….fuck…phale…Ziraphale."

Aziraphale's mouth and tongue worked together to kiss, suck, and lick the delicious offering in front of him. He centered in on the beautiful pink hole nestled in the heat of it all. His tongue dipped in, exploring the outer edges of the opening and he heard Crowley cry a prayer in his name. The demon's heels, still clad in fishnet, were driving into his back, pressing in through the sumptuous flesh to meet the hard muscle of a warrior angel. Slick wetness coated Aziraphale's tongue and lips and he felt it begin to dribble down his chin. He swallowed with enthusiasm, drinking in the heady taste of his lover. He felt his own cock twitch, twisted into the duvet as he thrust it against the mattress, but not allowing the release it so desperately sought. He moaned into Crowley's sopping wet opening, sending the vibrations up the demon's spine.

Crowley's thighs tightened around Aziraphale's head and his hand pulled mercilessly at the angel's platinum curls. He felt his wetness as it flowed from him and down between his asscheeks, staining the sheets under him. Crowley cried out the name of a God he barely knew anymore as his orgasm slammed him into the space where nothing and everything meet, rocking his body into the mattress as his hips bucked into the face of his angel. The quake in his thighs spread throughout his body as a hoarse cry road out of his mouth from deep down below.

Aziraphale kept his focus locked onto the delicious juices flowing into his mouth as Crowley's plush hole clenched from his climax. The sounds of the demon’s cries mixed in with his own grunts and he waited for them to soften before lifting his head from Crowley’s soaked heat. He tenderly kissed the clit and made his way, kiss by kiss, back up to Crowley’s face. Aziraphale’s chin and lips were glistening with the sheen of Crowley’s slick juices. His lips were swollen and pink and they found the demon’s, his tongue parting them and searching for its mate.

Crowley felt another surge of pleasure rock through him as he tasted himself on Aziraphale’s lips. The mix of tangy and sweet flavor sent a groan through him. He fought to catch the air in his lungs. He began to laugh despite feeling the familiar wetness of tears begin to wet his eyes. Crowley was still lost in his pleasure and wanted to hold onto it before emotions overwhelmed him. He wasn’t done for the night, either. He wanted to explore the way his new sex could feel, what it could do, what it could take. Spent in the moment, he still ached to feel Aziraphale stretch into him. The angel lay on top of him and Crowley focused on the hard length resting low on his body, just next to where he’d been ravished by his hungry lover.

“That was….I love you.” He kissed Aziraphale, delighting to find more of his own taste on those lips.

“That was most delightful. I wasn’t sure what to do at first, but I knew I wanted to make you feel good.” Aziraphale nudged his nose along the side of Crowley’s neck, delivering the tiniest of kisses.

“You bloody well learned quickly. I’ve never been that wet before - not even when I’ve had a wank with myself at the thought of you.”

“Mmmm,” Aziraphale groaned into his neck, “tell me more.”

Crowley chuckled softly. “It’s true. With either effort, I’d have to touch myself to relieve the tension when I’d think of you. With this set,” he gestured to his crotch, “I’d get so wet just from seeing you or thinking about you. I’d imagine what it would be like and…mmmm.” He was getting wetter, the ache inside of him growing again. “It was torture, really. I’d make myself upset over it. Because I thought I couldn’t have you.”

Aziraphale raised his head to look at him, his eyes holding sadness at the memory of longing and loss that they both shared many times over. “You have me now,” he said softly, “and you can have me time and again. You are my eternity.” They kissed gently at first, then with hunger. They had much more to share this night.

Driven by a need for a connection with something deep inside of him that he didn’t quite understand, Crowley flipped Aziraphale onto his back and laid down on top of him. “You haven’t had all of me, yet. I’d like you to.” Crowley was horny as hell, but this night had already been very emotional for him and he understood that this next phase wouldn’t be any different. He had learned to let emotions happen as they came during sex in the past year. Lips locked to the angel’s, he bent his knees to rest on either side of Aziraphale’s hips. Reaching down, he found Aziraphale’s cock and positioned it under him, rubbing against it. Sitting up, he wiggled himself until his lips were draped over the shaft, his wetness coating it. He slid back and forth, grinding lightly into Aziraphale’s length. Their breathing became raspy as he lowered his head back down and they moaned into each other’s mouths. Back and forth, Crowley slid his hot folds over the cock, feeling it pressing up against his hole, which clenched in response to the pleasure . When his clit pressed up against Aziraphale’s head a high whine left his lips and light flashed in his eyes, so close to a climax already. Crowley took steadying breaths to slow it down. He began sliding further up the shaft, to the head, letting it tease the hole ever so slightly, the feel of the velvet glide of his foreskin sending shivers through him. Feeling the heat of it at his opening, it wouldn’t be long until he let him in, swallowing him whole and connecting in a delicious new way.

Aziraphale sensed what was coming - he worked hard to keep his composure - Crowley’s slick lips and teasing soaked hole sliding up and down his cock had him reeling. The familiar primal instinct to spill into the demon and fill him with his seed burned in his skin. Knowing Crowley’s own needs, Aziraphale held the demon at his hips and slowed him for a moment, beckoning him to lean down for a deep, long kiss.

“I love you,” he said between breaks for air. He circled an arm around Crowley’s back and brought the other hand up to stroke his head.

“I love you, too, Angel,” Crowley whispered before indulging in more kissing. His arms rested on either side of the angel’s shoulders. He felt the throbbing of Aziraphale’s cock nestled hard among his folds, his own deep heat seeking a primal meeting of flesh. The two breathed in unison, letting the heaving motions of their bodies slowly move them in almost imperceptible increments. Slowly, the demon’s hole, pink and wet, found the head of the angel’s cock. He let it sit there, a warm tease that sent flushes through both of them. Crowley brought his hands up to frame Aziraphale’s face, pouring his honeyed gaze into green-blue eyes, willing every ounce of love in his celestial and corporeal forms to melt into the angel. Aziraphale was there at his opening and with another long pulse of air through his lips, he let the head slip through, unfolding plush virgin layers. Crowley’s mouth hung open, silent. He felt the heaviness at the corners of his eyes as tears began to form.

“Crowley. Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale sighed, his own tears beginning their journey.

Crowley focused on the sensation below, stretching him, wanting to go further. They were barely moving together, yet he managed to take more of Aziraphale in. These sensations were so different from what he had been used to in these last months. He was being stretched and opened, but the new nerve endings perceived it differently. The entry was smooth, his cock gliding easily along the plush walls within the demon. No pain, just the sensation of slowly being pushed open. No lube was needed, Crowley was extremely wet and welcoming. He felt his slippery muscles clench around Aziraphale as he drew him in further and he let out one long cry as the angel became fully buried within him.

They stayed like that for a moment, eyes still perceiving each other, tears beginning to flow freely. “Aziraphale….” he wanted to say so much more, but his voice kept getting caught in sobs. He cherished the feel of Aziraphale deep within his tight heat. This was a part of him that had remained untouched, unviolated for his entire earthly existence. Only Aziraphale has been there.

“You…you’re the first…no one….ever,” each word had to be pushed through a small sob.

Aziraphale felt his being vibrate at the feel of his cock buried and gripped by the heavy heat deep within Crowley. He’d been to a million erotic heights with Crowley, but nothing had ever prepared him for this new sensation as layers of luxurious muscles both squeezed him and yielded to him.. Like with everything else in their sex life, he’d been thoroughly tempted and was already addicted. He pushed Crowley’s hair out of his face, tucking it behind his ear and stroked his cheek.

“I know, my love, I know.” He kissed his tears and his sweaty forehead. “Are you okay?” Check-ins, verbal or non, were a must for Crowley.

“Mmm’ok. Very.” He rested his forehead on the Angel’s for a moment, letting all of the physical and emotional sensations wash over him. He was still euphoric from their entire night. Stretched and filled, he felt the build of an orgasm that he would chase soon. He felt as heavy as he he felt light. He was safe with Aziraphale and wanted nothing more than to merge everything he had with his angel. Every thing. He kissed the angel before pushing himself up, letting his hands rest on Aziraphale’s strong chest. Slowly, he began to rock his hips, letting the cock slide in and out of his depth. He curled his fingers around Aziraphale’s silvery chest hairs and quickened his movements. He was overwhelmed with all of the sensations pricking at him from his clit, his lips, all around his hole, and deep within him. Everything was awake and sensing and receiving. A deep awakening was beginning to build as they writhed together. Not wanting to rush it, Crowley dropped back down on top of Aziraphale and squeezed his thighs tight up against him.

“Flip me over,” he whispered.

Aziraphale held tight to Crowley’s back as he rolled over on top of him in a smooth motion, careful not to slip out of the warmth around his dick. Moaning into the demon’s neck, he rolled his hips into him as Crowley tightened his legs around his backside. He braced his arms on either side of him while Crowley grabbed onto his biceps, his fingers digging into the muscle there. The demon was squeezed around him as he slid in and out. He pulled all the way out and plunged back in, leaving the demon to cry out with each re-entry. It wasn’t long before he was thrusting harder, his pace quickened, desperately chasing and searching. Crowley’s back was arching, his ankles tightening around him. His long, graceful neck stretched before Aziraphale as the demon pressed the back of his head into a pillow. Aziraphale slid his tongue up that neck to his jawbone and licked along the sharp angle there before finding soft lips. Unspoken affirmation glistened in Crowley’s eye, answering Aziraphale’s soft questioning look.

The sound of Crowley’s wetness as Aziraphale pushed into him coupled with his balls slapping against his taint drove them both to their edges. Crowley reached to let his fingers sink into the the welcoming plush skin of Aziraphale’s ass, pushing him further into his body. The angel had braced his delicious thighs under Crowley’s, allowing himself deeper access, his cock now consistently hitting an extra sensitive spot deep within the demon. Crowley’s cries were high pitched and jagged, an offset to the deep grunts and groans coming out of the angel. Their movements were frantic, fevered. Both beings were lost in the deep emotion of it all, held to this plane only by the sensations of their bodies bucking into one another. Perhaps they were both seeking the same means to their end - something beyond their orgasms - but it was unbeknownst to them in that moment.

A deep internal quake built within Crowley. His hands searched frantically up and down the back of the angel’s body, leaving red stripes as his nails dragged through milky skin. He felt Aziraphale’s balls tighten against his taint, his shaft somehow becoming harder. Familiar sensations let him know that his angel was close. He pulled him closer, collapsing Aziraphale’s arms so his full glorious weight was pinning him down, the expanse of his beautiful belly leaning into Crowley’s. Wetness flowed, a stream that followed the deep crevice between the demon’s asscheeks, puddling into the mattress below. Crowley suddenly felt a hot and sharp jolt of pleasure at the apex of it all as Aziraphale’s pubic bone was grinding into his clit with each thrust. He pulled his head away from where it had been buried in the angel's shoulder. He took Aziraphale’s face in his own, knitting their gazes together. He knew, for many different reasons, that he wanted them to watch one another, golden eyes to the ever-changing blues, to remember this specific moment, just as they had watched each other through the other firsts they had shared. Lips brushed and hot breath poured forth from each of them as low whimpers turned into sharp cries and names were sobbed out of chests. The last thing Crowley was aware of was the forceful twitching of Aziraphale’s cock within him and a new hot sensation filling him, coating him inside as his walls clenched around the shaft to squeeze every last drop out of him, pulling it deep within. Quaking rolled through Crowley and his tenuous hold on this plane was lost, meeting his true celestial form with Aziraphale’s for a moment before rocking back down into their earthly reality from the sounds of his own cries mingling with the angel’s.

Remembering how to breathe, they stared at one another, a quiet laugh forming from Crowley before tears took over.

“My darling,” Aziraphale mouthed the words into his forehead. He was overcome with his post-orgasmic bliss, having just felt a soft tightness unlike anything he’d ever experienced before as he filled the demon with his seed. He was still locked in there, Crowley’s thighs squeezing against him, telling him to remain seated within him. The demon’s yellow irises were fully blown out from the ecstasy of their shared moment, tears wetting them. He was in wonder with the way he was able to fall in love with his demon over and over and over and over again. Their bodies were pressed so tightly against one another, warm, safe, and blissed out, the demon’s angles jutting into his own soft curves. Crowley was constantly rescuing him, but Aziraphale felt like his protector, just as he’d been designed to be for all of humanity. He tightened his embrace, hoping to convey the comfort and safety of his body and his entire being.

“How are you doing, my dear? Do you need anything?” Aziraphale was ready to offer up a glass of water, a massage, the entire universe, anything his love needed.

Crowley let his tears come and his voice shake, “M’good, Angel. Whole,” his throat choked on that last word. Crowley had never truly felt whole since his Fall. He was always hiding in some way, not free to be himself and to express his love for his angel the way he truly wanted - openly and passionately. But now he was experiencing both of those things and the gravity of what he’d been deprived of for his entire existence cut at his core.

“Just hold me for a bit.” He was safely enveloped in the plushness of his angel, his cock still comfortably nestled within. Crowley was now brimming with Aziraphale’s spend deep within him. He was so focused on the new sensations tickling his body that he nearly missed a brief, but powerful spark far far back in his mind. It was fleeting, delicate. Hope

After what seemed like an hour - who knows? - Aziraphale’s cock slipped out with little fanfare. A few errant dribbles of cum mixed with Crowley's own fluids followed it, streaming over the demon’s taint. He reached his hand down to feel his sex, warm and somewhat swollen, slightly raw from their movements. Muscles were relaxing with a happy hint of soreness inside and out. With a wave of his hand, the remaining bits of costume were sent to another plane. He stretched his entire body, limbs hanging off the bed every which way before curling back together with his angel.

“C’mere, Angel. Let me hold you.” Aziraphale laid in Crowley’s arms, resting his head on the freckled chest of his love. Cradling his beautiful lover, Crowley sighed contently, “I’ve got the entire universe right here.” He nuzzled his face against the top of Aziraphale’s head and dozed.

Chapter Text

Crowley awoke to the sunlight and to his own sunshine, kissing his freckles. “Morn’angel,” he mumbled. He was vaguely aware of the worn feeling deep inside of him and smiled. “What a fucking night, eh? Pretty intense there.”

“Was it all too much for you?” Aziraphale asked, hoping he hadn’t missed any signals from Crowley during their lovemaking.

“No, no. Was perfect. Brilliant.” He yawned. “I just can’t believe how much I was anticipating the play and then couldn’t even wait to get you home because I was so, so proud. And so, so turned on.”

“Oh..Oh dear. I completely forgot we attended the theater last night.” Aziraphale was only half joking.

“Right. A moment to gush over you? Your cranky and never-nice demon is still feeling all sappy. Take it or leave it."

“Indulge me, dear.” He found a new freckle to kiss.

“Seeing you dressed like that and in make-up was enough to drive me wild and kept me wet the entire night. But your confidence…witnessing you let go and feeling unashamed and free… Angel, I am so happy that I got to experience that with you.” He let out a small woosh of air. “I watched the people around you. Big observer here. They were enamoured with you. You glowed and it had nothing to do with the make-up. You were lit up from the inside.”

Aziraphale thought back to the night before and how welcomed and free he felt. “It was exhilarating. Being all fun and fancy-free and having you by my side through it all. I would love to go again sometime…to feel those things once more.”

“We can certainly arrange it, Angel.” He accepted another freckle kiss. “I hope you realize how much you deserved to feel that. You’ve always told me that there was nothing wrong with me…that I was perfect as I am. You deserve to let loose and feel comfortable with yourself, too. You’re perfect as you are. “

They spent the better part of the morning in cuddles and deep conversation before rising to take a soak in the bath. Crowley scrubbed rose-scented shampoo into Aziraphale’s hair as the angel leaned back between his legs. “Last night was very special for me. Be-between the play and everything about you…and…all of our love afterward.” His gorgeously long fingers kneaded the angel’s scalp. He reached for the pitcher next to the tub and rinsed the bubbles out of the angel’s hair, successfully avoiding his eyes. His voice lowered, “I felt part of me heal a little bit.” This was an extremely difficult admission for Crowley.

Aziraphale felt flushed with admiration for what he knew was a challenging sentence to get out. He turned to face him, wiping at the tears in his eye. “Oh dear, got some bubbles my eyes.”

“No, I didn’t.” Crowley smiled.

“I love you so much.” Aziraphale leaned in to catch his lips. "I'm awestruck by you. Oh, I know I say it often, but you constantly amaze me, dear boy. I love you, I love you, I love you."

What followed was an awkward untangling and retangling of limbs as bodies repositioned, water splashed, and the porcelain squeaked under their skin until Crowley was straddling Aziraphale, sinking down onto him quickly. He rode him slowly as they clutched one another. Their voices reverberated off the tile while their orgasms left them feeling as if they were floating in the expanse of an ocean rather than smushed together in a bathtub.

“Well, sex in water is a lot easier with this configuration,” Crowley observed. It was his turn to lay back onto Aziraphale, strong hands massaging his shoulders.

“We’ll have to keep that in mind now that we have a house by the sea. Imagine the things we could teach the sea creatures.” Aziraphale wiggled his hips, causing the water to slosh around them.

“Imagine having your left buttcheek bit by a shark while you’re fucking.” Crowley laughed. “Wasn't Aphrodite created from a bit of splooge in the sea? That whole Greek lot had a hell of a way of making babies. Better be careful not to spill too much when we’re fornicating out there, Angel. Who knows what the sea will do with pure angelic cum."

Aziraphale laughed with him. “Quite so. She was created after Uranus’" - he paused to let Crowley contain his laughter despite the angel pronouncing the name properly - "genitals were thrown into the sea. No matter, I won’t be causing any pregnancies. I’m more likely to have my bum nibbled by a curious shark if anything.”

Crowley waited for the usual pang to hit his heart at the one sentence, but it didn’t come. Thank goodness - he didn’t want to deal with those feelings after such a beautiful night. “Be a lucky shark, that one. He’d be in for a fight, mind. No one gets a bite of that delicious bum, ‘cept me.” He splashed water at Aziraphale, who squealed in return.

The rest of their day began to roll along nicely. Aziraphale worked on a bookbinding restoration while he and Crowley chatted. Crowley even helped for a moment when Aziraphale needed an extra hand to hold the book as he worked on a particularly challenging bit. He could have used a miracle of course, but where was the fun in that? After lunch, Aziraphale suggested they head to Nina’s cafe for “just a little nosh to hold us over until supper.”

Nina was happy to see them come in. “Have a good night, boys?” she asked cheerfully. “Did you like the picture Maggie sent you of you two?”

“Oh…right…” Crowley pulled out his phone as they sat down. He had forgotten all about that after the euphoria of the previous night. He opened the text from Maggie and clicked on the picture to enlarge it. There they were, two idiots with big goofy grins, though some nerves in Aziraphale’s. Aziraphale’s hands had also been clasped in his anxious stim. “Look at those hot birds, hmm? Sexy, innit?" He shoved the phone in Aziraphale’s face.

“It’s quite lovely. I do enjoy having photos of us - even if your tits are out.” He quipped. He truly loved the photo. He could even admit how good he looked next to his gorgeous demon.

“Wot? Those were covered." He squinted behind his glasses. "Now, look here, you can see how wet -” he really didn’t have a filter sometimes.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale hushed him. “Just one day in a public place where you behave would be a miracle.”

Nina walked up to their table. "What can I get you two today besides an inhuman jolt of caffeine for Mister Crowley?"

“I’m feeling rather indulgent today. How about some of that delicious cheesecake?” He wiggled his fingers. “Maybe with a little dollop of your delightfully homemade whipped cream? Oh, and a chamomile tea. Please."

“Your wish is my command, Mr. Fell. How ‘bout you?”

They looked on, awaiting the usual inappropriate quip to come from Crowley. Nope. He was going to behave. “I’ll just share with Mr. Fell.”

Aziraphale looked at him approvingly.

“Very good Mr. Crowley. I’ll be right back.”

“‘I’d like a bite of your cake." He blew out a gust of air. "Had to get that out.”

“Oh good Lord.” Azirphale rolled his eyes.

Over cheesecake - Crowley took a single bite and spent the rest of time watching his angel enjoy it - and warm drinks, the two discussed the next steps at their cottage. They’d be heading there the next day to greet furniture delivery men and clean out and set up the green house. They also went back to a scary topic - paint colors. Calmly, they agreed to head to the paint shop to get some swatches next.

Crowley gathered up their plates and whispered to Aziraphale, “I’m going to walk these back. Check my butt and let me know if there is anything on there.” He'd forgotten how wet these bits could get and hadn’t thought of the fact that vaginas don’t clench shut the way buttholes do. He had felt a trickle as he sat there and argued about eggshell vs. matte paint. He worried that a white stain would dry on his black trousers. A miracle could handle this, but part of Crowley enjoyed it.

“Why is that, dear?” Confused, Aziraphale brought his tea cup to his lips to enjoy the last sips of his tea.

“Because you blew a load into me twice in the last 12 hours and what goes up eventually comes down and it’s a lot more juicy than an arsehole.”

Aziraphale choked on his tea, prompting a concerned shout from Nina, “You alright, Mr. Fell?”

“Oh, he’s fine, luv, “Crowley answered, patting the angel's shoulders. “Here, I’ll bring these dishes to you.” He sauntered away and leaned over the counter, to bring attention to his backside, as he placed their dishes down. Stepping quickly back to the table, he cocked a brow at Aziraphale.

"All is well, my fine fellow. Nary a drop."

Bidding farewell to Nina, they headed out the door and walked through Soho to the paint shop. It was a glorious Autumn day full of bright sunshine and just the right amount of crispness in the air. It made Aziraphale want pears. They held hands as they walked, occasionally leaning into one another.

At the paint store, they bickered so much over colours that the clerk, a kindly man in his 50’s, asked how long they had been married.

“An eternity,” Crowley sighed. Married

“I know the feeling,” the man chuckled. “Been with mine for 30 years now.”

They stopped for pears to satisfy Aziraphale's hankering and picked up a few things for dinner on the way home, where Aziraphale cooked a lovely roast chicken with plenty of trimmings. They enjoyed simple conversation over dinner before Crowley helped Aziraphale wash up. Aziraphale was wiping down the tiny dinner table and the counter while Crowley had his hands deep in suds.

That’s when it happened, right in the middle of the mundane chores of their new domestic life. Crowley felt the prick of a miracle in the air. Aziraphale was using one to cut corners with his cleaning, he thought. Cheeky bastard.

Aziraphale felt the same prickle. Crowley was obviously cheating at getting the dishes done with a miracle. Demons.

Neither of them had cast a miracle. At least, not in the way they were thinking at that moment. A miracle that had been set in motion the night before had indeed just occurred. Deep within Crowley, the being who called forth light and created the stars, a new bright spark was illuminated. This wasn’t the combination of helium and hydrogen that would create a star in the night sky, rather it was the mingling of their own ethereal and corporeal essences that was creating a very new type of star in their life.

The two happily carried on their domestic duties there in the kitchen, not yet aware of how everything in their universe had just shifted.

Chapter Text

One would note, upon meeting both Crowley and Aziraphale, that the two celestial beings were incredibly intelligent. Very clever. One would also note, upon spending any time with them in the mundane domesticity of their relationship, that they were also idiots. Two beings who are so fine-tuned to the minute details within the universe and can sense things on multiple planes at once, yet are blissfully unaware of the things obviously happening within their relationship and their own bodies.

A week after they had bickered about colours in the paint shop, Aziraphale and Crowley loaded up the Bentley with snacks, a few of the better behaved plants - to break in his plant room - and some books from the shop that were headed to a new life in the cottage's cozy library. They had plans to remain at the cottage for a few days to tidy it and set up the new furniture that was scheduled to be delivered.

At the Cottage, Crowley and Aziraphale had just generously tipped and blessed the furniture delivery men who had brought in their new bed, guest beds, sofas, armchairs, and various bits of other needed furniture. They had placed everything in their proper rooms for them. Crowley and Aziraphale worked to arrange the furniture to their liking.

After a good bit of real work and progress in the cottage, they decided to take a small well-deserved break. In the last 24 hours, they had made love in the bookshop twice, made the drive to the cottage, unloaded the Bentley, organized a bit, and stocked the kitchen, where Aziraphale thoroughly sated himself between Crowley's hips up against a counter just minutes before the furniture delivery arrived, and now they were sitting on the new sofa in their parlour, enjoying the fact that everything was coming together to make the cottage look like their home.

Crowley had insisted on a black sofa for the parlour. "At least a dark grey," he compromised one day while making selections in the furniture store. "I'm putting my foot down, Angel."

"Of course, dear," Aziraphale had answered.

In the parlour, Crowley sank back into the sofa's cushions and sighed, running his fingers along the tartan-patterned upholstery. It looked suspiciously like Aziraphale's favorite bow tie. "At least it's comfortable."

Aziraphale sat next to him. "Everything is beginning to come along nicely. It's taking shape and looking like it's truly a home, isn't it?"

Their design choices differed quite a bit, but Crowley got his way with other elements. He was just happy to see his angel so content. If that means he had to curl up on a tartan sofa to watch Golden Girls then so be it.

"I don't suppose we have to christen every piece of furniture, do we?" Aziraphale feigned exhaustion.

"Well, ngk, probably bad luck not to. Don't wanna take chances. What if we unintentionally summon a demon?"

"Mmm…I'm rather fond of summoning a certain demon. I do wonder if I could summon a demon to sit on my lap right now. Do you happen to know any?" Aziraphale rubbed his hands up and down his sinful thighs.

Crowley was in his lap in a flash. The tartan sofa found itself thoroughly blessed.

Later in the evening, they stood in the bedroom at the foot of the bed. Crowley had picked it out. He had expensive taste in the past, but he didn't want to be outlandish with his selection outside of its size. A super king would give Crowley plenty of room to stretch his long limbs. And plenty of room to experiment with positions. He chose a sumptuous mattress and a delicately carved wood headboard - the motif was an apple tree. The center of the headboard curved in a graceful line downward on either side and ended in small posts. "For the nights you misbehave and need to be tied up," the demon said in front of the shopkeeper when they had chosen the bed. They received a knowing smirk and a discount.

"We'll need linens," Aziraphale said, staring at the bare mattress atop the bed in their bedroom.

"A bit late in the day to shop." He snapped his fingers and the bed was covered in black and red satin and a luxurious black duvet that featured a very familiar snake design in the center. "We can take turns picking out the bed linens. Tonight is my choice."

It wasn't long before the duvet had been kicked to the floor and limbs were wrapped in the sheets. Crowley was hard at work in service of his angel, gripping his solid thighs as he worked his mouth along the length of his cock, bringing him to an explosive orgasm that left him clinging for dear life to the new headboard.

After a massage for the angel and cuddles for both, Aziraphale found himself with Crowley's legs up on his shoulders as the demon writhed in the satin below him. After spilling over into him, the excess cum streamed from Crowley's opening to leave a glistening white pool on the black and red sheets. The bed had been thoroughly blessed.

"I've lost count, Angel. This old girl may need to come up for air for a moment, " he laughed. "I don't know if I can hold anymore of your cum inside of me." His own finger swirled around his opening to feel the spend leaking out of him.

"Mmmmm. I can take care of that for you if you'd like. Can I use my mouth on you once more tonight? I do love a midnight snack." Lord this angel is divinely filthy.

Crowley's smile widened along with his hips, inviting the angel to feast upon him.

Aziraphale's mouth was on him in no time, lapping up his own salty spend mixed with Crowley's wetness. He devoured him at his hole, hungrily licking and sucking up every drop he could get his mouth on. Crowley felt white heat surge through him as Aziraphale rubbed his fingers along his clit while still eating his fine meal. The sinfulness of it all was like a revival deep inside him and he prayed Aziraphale's name, circling his hips into the angel's face while his climax overtook him.

Aziraphale's belly pressed against his clit as the angel came up to his mouth for a deep kiss, sending the taste of the two of them combined onto the demon's tongue. Crowley didn't expect the resulting orgasm, plunging his fingers into the angel's curls and yanking at his hair. Aziraphale moaned loudly from the painful pleasure.

Panting, Crowley managed to form a few words, "Dear God….I'm glad…glad to be immortal. This would have…killed an ordinary person." They lay there until their breathing returned to a normal rhythm.

Aziraphale spooned Crowley into him, burying his face into his hair. He could feel all of the wetness from Crowley's center up against his thigh. It made him want to go again and again. He was addicted to loving Crowley like this. But they needed a rest and eventually they were both in a comfortable doze.

Crowley awoke to a nearly imperceptible twinge deep below his navel. He thought nothing of it, only wondering if he pulled a muscle internally after a night of being at the mercy of the universe's horniest angel. He wasn't aware that the miracle that had occurred barely over a week ago had just found its way to its cozy home for the next 9 months, knitting itself into the plush lining within his uterus, formally connecting to him in the most miraculous bond of all.

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and yawned, feeling for his angel. He must have slept through the morning freckle kisses because Aziraphale was out of bed. He could hear him further down the hall, humming to himself in the kitchen, an accompaniment to the sound of sizzling bacon. The angel treated him so well, especially after long days and nights of hardcore heavenly activity. He lay there, soaking up the feelings of happiness….letting himself indulge in it. Feeling below, he noticed the stickiness of the night had been miracled away from his thighs and the sheets. The raw feeling within his well-used sex was still present and, for that, he was glad.

Not long after, Aziraphale appeared in the room bearing a tray with their breakfast plates, tea and coffee. "Good morning, my dear. I trust you are feeling well-rested?" He sat down on the bed, settling in to share a meal with his love.

"That I am." He took a bite of toast and mused that they were throwing this very food towards a stage nearly a week prior. He felt that so much had changed in that short time. Oh Crowley, you don't know the half of it.

"Now, we really must muscle through the day and get your greenhouse in order and finally nail down paint colours. I had hoped to have all that done before the furniture arrived, but we were distracted quite often." Aziraphale said, sipping his tea.

Crowley raised an eyebrow. "Distracted, huh?" Picking out paint colours had been code for "fighting and then fucking" during this whole house buying and renovating process. "Angel, we'll never have this house done if we keep fucking all day," he said with a mouthful of bacon. "This poor puss has only been around a few days and she's done more work than we have." They fell into each other laughing.

Aziraphale let out a defeated sigh. "I suppose we must get ourselves together and work hard." He dabbed his lips with his napkin. "I do want everything tip top so we can entertain by Christmas. Wouldn't that be lovely?"

"It would, Angel." Crowley smiled softly. "Right! Get that glorious ass out of bed and let's get down to work!" He gave a playful smack to the side of the angel's bum before hopping out of bed himself and miracling his clothes on - black dungarees over a deep burgundy knit top that clung to all of his angles. They were his garden clothes.

"Don't you look adorable, Farmer Crowley?"

"Am not adorable, am vicious demon," he hissed while adjusting the red socks with a bright yellow ducky pattern that had appeared with his miracle. "Where the devil did these come from?"

"Your own miracle, dear." Aziraphale said, very helpfully.

"Not mine. They were meant to be my garden boots."

Aziraphale clicked his tongue. "Perhaps your miracles know better, dear boy - no garden shoes in the house. You know that. "

Crowley mumbled a few nonsensical syllables while regarding his angel suspiciously. "No matter. Come on, Angel."

They managed a wondrously productive day. Crowley's plants were happily nestled into their new room, flooded with natural light from the large windows, freshly watered, and reminded about good behavior. Aziraphale's books found their way to his library, painted the same golden tone as his bookshop. The gardens were pleased to be worked by the skillful hands of Crowley. Crowley had also arranged tables and shelves within the greenhouse, ready for the plants that would eventually live there. It was decided, no bickering, that all of the rooms would have their paint and any accent wallpaper miracled. Most rooms were finished by the late afternoon, save for the empty former nursery and the shower room. After much thoughtful discussion that did not lead to a tidy fuck, the shower room ended up being done in shades of grey. The former nursery was another matter.

"Another guest room? Or, we can move the television in here. Perhaps a separate sitting room for guests" Aziraphale listed off options, but nothing took hold for them. Nothing ever did when they tried to decide the role for this room. "No matter, I can store books in here in the meantime and we'll eventually figure it out."

"You already have a library," Crowley reminded him.

"Quite right, but you know how books tend to multiply. Might need a space for them."

Crowley groaned and rolled his eyes. He was tired and even a little hungry after all of his work out in the greenhouse and in the gardens. "Shall we think about supper, then?" The odd pangs he usually felt in this room were not present for some reason. He wasn't going to think about that too much, he was just grateful. Must be healing.

They settled on Indian takeaway that evening. This time, they were able to sit at their proper dinner table and enjoy their meal. As they finished, Crowley squirmed in his seat."

"Are you alright?"

"Remember what I told you at the coffee shop a week ago? What goes up, must come down." Crowley was still getting used to that sensation.

"You could just miracle that away, you know." Aziraphale offered.

"Where's the fun in that?" No matter the configuration, Crowley - much like Aziraphale - has always enjoyed having the "leftovers'' of their lovemaking within him ... especially when they were out. It was like a naughty secret between them. "I'm just gonna head to the toilet for a moment." He pecked Aziraphale's cheek. "Thank you for dinner. Well…thank you for ordering it and…um…putting it on plates…right." Nerd.

Crowley sat on the toilet and wiped at himself. Wiping away at the slickness, he noticed a very faint pink tinge on the toilet tissue. Swiping again, the faint pink was still there. "Huh." He wasn't worried. There has been so much activity in that region this past week and he figured it was related to that.

Once back in the kitchen, he helped Aziraphale clean up from supper. They decided to take the rest of the evening on the terrace. Surrounded by their beautiful gardens, thanks to a demonic green thumb as well as the help of their friends weeks ago, they relaxed on their new garden furniture by the fire pit. Crowley's miracle to start the fire resulted in sparks at first, but they were eventually warmed by a lovely blaze. It was a very cool and crisp Autumn evening with just a hint of frost threatening the air and they were cuddled together under a plush blanket. Tartan, naturally.

Crowley's lanky arm pulled Aziraphale closer to him, the angel resting his head on his shoulder. Crowley stretched his long neck and bent his head back to look at the stars. "It's so beautiful out here." One of the selling points of the South Downs for Crowley was that the area is certified by the International Dark Skies Reserve. Sometimes, they'd head to the shoreline or other parts of the reserve at night for utterly stunning views. But even from their gardens, the lack of city light gave them a magnificent view of the stars. Crowley couldn't wait for the dark of deep winter when the skies would be even more dramatic. He sighed wistfully.

"I am forever marveled by your handiwork. In times we were apart, I'd look at these same stars to feel close to you." He laced his fingers into Crowley's.

"Ngk. I'd look at them and…it was always complicated. But I would remember that Heaven's bravest and most beautiful angel was there with me when all of this cranked out and I held onto that happy memory." He squeezed Aziraphale's shoulder. "Always been a mindfuck. Through history, I have heard of myself as the Serpent of Eden, responsible for humanity's downfall, damnation, and pain." His tone was somber. "Not to mention being the fellow to tempt Jesus in the desert, to pull Him away from God." He thought for a moment. "It wasn't even like that. I just…thought He deserved better. Might've needed to get out more? Dunno." He blinked up at his stars. "The same people who damn the serpent, praise the stars. They don't even know that the damned serpent and the creator of their billions of points of light are the one in the same."

Aziraphale knew there wasn't much he could say that would ever heal that bit. He shifted so that he could hold Crowley instead, leaning back into the armrest and stretching himself out over the cushions, pulling Crowely to sit between his legs so he could lay back onto the angel’s chest. Aziraphale stroked the demon's hair and listened to him.

"I know every single one of those stars, the galaxies, the nebulas, all of it. I remember the ones that no longer shine." He was silent for a bit, just watching the sky. He kicked off his shoes, ducky sock clad feet poking out from under the blanket.

“I’m certain they all remember you...fondly.” Aziraphale said softly.

As if on cue, a meteorite streaked across the sky. Crowley squeezed his eyes against tears.

Aziraphale kissed the top of his head. “Even amongst the stars, the day you created them, you were the most magnificent light I had ever encountered. You have been ever since. You are a marvel, my dear.” He wrapped both arms around Crowley.

After a few more quiet moments, Crowley whispered, "I did enjoy playing a part in Creation. It's bittersweet to think about…" His voice trailed off and he sniffed, fixing his gaze to the crackling embers that escaped the fire and climbed upwards before being extinguished by the cool air. "This right here is a creation they can't take away from me." He squeezed Aziraphale's hands. "Us….the life we're building. We're our own star system."

Aziraphale pressed his lips to his head again, letting the red hair wipe tears from his cheek. "That we are, my darling Crowley. I'm mighty damned proud of that, too."

Crowley twisted his neck to look up at him and smiled his crooked smile. Aziraphale leaned down to kiss him. They maneuvered and twisted, laughing together, until Aziraphale was laying on top of Crowley, blanket covering them, ducky socks and tartan socks peeking out, the only clothing now left on their lower halves. Crowley tightly hooked his chin to Aziraphale's shoulder, looking up at his night sky as the angel moved within him. The soft cries of their lovemaking were carried through the air and up toward the stars as the fire in the pit blazed brighter.

When the fire fell asleep and the chilly night air eventually cooled their bodies, they gathered their blanket and clothes and headed inside to bed. Stripping off the rest of their clothes, they climbed under the duvet and pressed themselves together. Crowley was legitimately tired, different from when he slept just to indulge. It wasn't long until he was softly snoring, face buried into Aziraphale's neck. The angel did not indulge in sleep that night, preferring to hold his demon and protect him. He was only just mildly aware that he was feeling much more protective over Crowley in the last few days. Perhaps because the demon has been so much more open lately and the kinds of emotions he was working through needed support, he told himself.

The next morning was quite like the previous. Crowley woke up to the sounds of a happy angel clanking away in the kitchen. Unlike the previous morning, Crowley felt odd in his chest. He'd awoken laying on his belly and his chest felt sore. He thought back to the previous night - had Aziraphale grabbed him there as he sometimes likes to do during sex? No, their lovemaking had been slow, gentle. They had pressed themselves together tightly, though. He rubbed at the tender pecs. Aziraphale's body was lush and soft, but under all of that were well-developed muscles of a warrior, a guardian. That must have been it.

Like the previous day, Aziraphale came into the room with a tray of breakfast for the both of them, joining his lover in bed as they ate and chatted.

"I could get used to this," Crowley said.

They were to head back to the bookshop in the late morning. They tidied up from breakfast and walked through the house to check on everything once more, noting how wonderfully it was all coming together. Crowley walked through his greenhouse and the gardens with Aziraphale, pointing in a million different directions and chattering to him about all the work he had done so far and all he intended to do. He planned to ask Anathema and Newt back to the cottage soon to help him prepare the gardens for winter. He was very proud of his labors.

"You are quite the nurturing fellow, my dear." Aziraphale noted.

Crowley grimaced. "Am not. I'm just particular about my plants the way you are about books." He sniffed. "Nothing more."

Aziraphale smiled. "Oh, is that it?" he said sarcastically. The demon knew how much Aziraphale cherished his books. "Interesting comparison." He raised his brows and pressed his lips together in a smug smile..

Back in the house, they did an additional once over to satisfy Aziraphale's frequent need to check and recheck things. Crowley said goodbye to his plants and told them not to worry - he'd be back, reminding them he'd always know how they were behaving while he was gone. He stopped by the old nursery, checking in with how he felt. Nope, no sadness or emptiness here. Healing. "Maybe it'll be a room for extra books and plants after all. Perfect blend," he quipped to himself. Smiling, he headed out of the house to open the door of the Bentley for his angel.

Chapter Text

Crowley woke up in the bookshop bedroom. Aziraphale was dutifully lounging next to him, reading a book, having kissed freckles hours ago.

"Ah, good morning dear." he ran his hand over Crowley's shoulder. "Sleeping in today, I see."

"Wh'time'sit?" He rolled his tongue through his mouth - there was a gross taste there. What did he last eat? Blech.

"Nearly a quarter past 11, my dear. Care for breakfast? Or a lovely brunch?"

"Uh…" he looked down at himself. "Wait, I don't remember changing into pajamas. "

"You didn't. I took the liberty to make sure you were nice and cozy. You came right upstairs when we got back. Fell asleep quickly. As the youth says, you slept like a rock," Aziraphale offered helpfully. "Breakfast?"

Crowley knitted his brow. "The youth haven't said that since 1637, but point taken." He sat up, rubbing his chest. "Anyway, your choice for breakfast."

"Oh!" Aziraphale wiggles happily. "There just so happens to be a delightfully new cafe just a moment from here. I've heard their brunch is to die for." He leaned over to kiss Crowley on the cheek. "I'll leave you to get dressed and meet you downstairs."

Crowley laid back on the bed, rubbing at the tenderness in his chest. "What the fuck?" The tenderness had lessened throughout the previous day - or, he was at least distracted from it by the work he'd been doing at the cottage. They didn't have sex at all yesterday so it wasn't that. Nothing clicked for Crowley, he decided to just get on with his day, miracling his standard look. "Fucking socks again." A new pair of ducky socks appeared, this time in black. "Aziraphale must be messing about," he said to himself. A snap later his usual shoes smothered the ducky socks and he made his way downstairs.

At brunch their waiter served them mimosas along with their meals. Crowley didn't eat as fast as usual, the odd taste in his mouth still there. But he was very hungry. When the waiter came to check on them, he asked for a plain orange juice, ignoring his mimosa.

"Is it not to your liking?" Aziraphale asked in a low voice.

"No…no. Everything is good. Just not in the mood for the mimosa."

They walked around Soho for a bit, stopping in shops here and there to browse. They stopped in a market for Aziraphale to pick up some necessary goodies. As they were paying, Crowley noticed a little plant that had been placed aside at the the till. "Poor little plant," he said.

"Oh this?” the clerk answered. “Right. Someone didn't want it. It's dying." She tossed it into the bin under her till. One would think Crowley had been shot.

"Wha…why…it's not dead. It's not trash." He quickly fired up.

"Crowley…" Aziraphale put a hand on his arm.

"Take it out!" He demanded.

"We're not a plant store, luv. It's just a novelty. Not even worth a pound." She was indifferent.

"A novelty?" Crowley was indignant. "I'll take it. Take. It. Out. Of. The. Bin." He was fuming.

"Crowley, I think we had better leave." Aziraphale cautioned under his breath.

"Alright. Alright. No need to talk to someone like that, sir." The clerk was clearly frightened as she removed the plant from the bin. "Here. It's on the house, even."

"I thank you my dear. I apologize for his behavior." Aziraphale glared at Crowley, who was cradling the tiny potted plant in his palms. He paid for the rest of their goods, including triple for the plant, and hustled out with his demon, casting a miracle to ensure the clerk received a promotion and that she'd never encounter a rude customer again.

“What was that? You absolutely embarrassed me. And yourself.” Aziraphale was seething.

Crowley looked as if he had been wounded. “Just not fair to toss living things aside because they aren’t perfect.” He held up the tiny pot. “It’s merely overwatered and didn’t get any proper light in that store. That’s something I can fix. Miracles not needed.”

“Perhaps, my dear, you should have kindly led with that instead of scaring a poor clerk half to death. They don’t get paid enough to deal with cranky demons having a fit over a damned plant!” His voice was scolding.

The words hit Crowley like a punch . “Damned plant? Damned. So now we give up on the damned? Oh…oh that’s rich, Angel.” What the fuck? Was he feeling tears start to form?

“That’s not what I meant,” Aziraphale suddenly became aware that they were arguing out in public. “You know that’s not what I meant, Crowley,” his voice was a low and angry whisper.

“Doesn’t matter. It’s what you said.” The tears came. “I’m damned just like this little plant. I was discarded, too." He wiped at his eyes under his glasses. "Maybe I could have been nicer. Or maybe she will think twice about throwing something out willy nilly.” He began to full on sob. He couldn’t tell if he had rage or sadness or both.

Aziraphale looked around nervously, worried what people might think. He was embarrassed and angry, but most of all concerned for Crowley and his reaction. Anger was like him. Sobbing while cuddling a tiny plant to his chest, as he was in this moment, was not like him at all. He pulled him in for a hug, slowly backing them from the constant stream of people on the pavement. He was careful not to smush the plant that was held between them. “I’m sorry, my darling. I didn’t like what happened in that store, but I should have been more careful in my words with you.” He rubbed Crowley’s back.

Crowley leaned into Aziraphale, mindful of his little love plant. He felt justified in his reaction, but couldn’t understand his tears. Wiping them away, he looked at Aziraphale. “I’m sorry I embarrassed you.” He sniffed. “Something’s…I’m….something weird is happening with me. I’m emotional. I’m so tired right now. I’m cranky. I….I don’t know.”

Aziraphale could see the confused eyes through Crowley’s glasses. “We’ve been through a lot, Crowley. Unlearning the way we were both taught to feel about ourselves is heavy work. You’ve confronted more and processed more and tried to heal more now than you have in thousands of years. That can take its own toll. It won’t always be easy, which is why we are in it together.” He hugged him tighter.

Crowley took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. Can we…can we just go on, now?”

“Of course, my dear.” Aziraphale took his hand. “Shall we head back to the bookshop?”

“No. No….I want to stop in that little plant shop just down the way." She needs a new pot. This little plastic piece of shit won’t do.” He was still cradling his plant close to his chest with his free hand.

In the plant shop, Crowley picked out a small pink pot, slightly bigger than what the plant was currently in.
“Pink?” Aziraphale was surprised.

“What? Her name is Rose. This is rose-colored.” It was logical, really.

“Her name is Rose,” Aziraphale repeated. “Good lord.”

Forty five minutes later after plant mom chatter with the clerks in that shop, Aziraphale and Crowley emerged with Rose, her new pink pot, a small bag of potting soil, and 3 new plants and their coordinating pots. Aziraphale carried a bag containing the soil and new pots along with the bag from the market, while Crowley clutched a small box containing Rose and her three new companions to his tender chest.

“I thought we were getting a single little planter for…for Rose.” Aziraphale mused.

“Right….yeah, but these three are small like her and they looked lonely. Can’t have Rose without Blanche, Dorothy, and Sophia. Obviously they need coordinating pots. I’m not a monster.”

“You most certainly aren’t, darling. Though I am surprised at the pastel theme you chose.” Aziraphale winked. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

“It’s not pastel. It’s 1980’s old lady. There’s a difference.”

“Riiiiiiiight,” Aziraphale was no less confused, but he was thoroughly amused.

They decided to pop into the coffee shop for a quick dessert and some tea. It was quite busier than usual. Aziraphale and Crowley grabbed a table. The demon carefully set his box of plants down on a chair and tucked it in. "I'll run up and get us something. Tea?"

"Yes, please. I think I could go for a chamomile tea again. Thank you." He needed something to help his nerves after the pavement therapy section.

Crowley waited at the counter, crossing his arms over his tender chest. The tenderness seemed to get worse as the day went on. His shirt was bothering his nipples, too. He was lost in thoughts over his painful pecs when he realized a voice was trying to get his attention.

"Mr. Crowley! Wake up! What can I get for you?" Nina asked.

"Oh! Right. Uh….cheesecake for my delicious morsel over there. Whipped cream on top. And a chamomile tea for him as well."

"Got it. I assume you want your usual 6 in 1 jolt to the heart," she chuckled.

"Uh…no. Not today. Actually, do you have just ice water?" He was very thirsty from the anger and the crying.

"Of course. Have a seat and I'll bring it right over."

Seated, Crowley checked on his plants.

Aziraphale was amused. "Definitely not a nurturing fellow. Your plants are perfectly fine. None managed to escape in the five minutes that you were gone."

Nina arrived with their tea, cheesecake, and ice water. "Will that be all, gentleman?"

"Thank you, my dear Nina. We're good for now." As Nina left, Aziraphale looked over the ice water. "No coffee for you at all today? You didn't have it at brunch, either."

"Not really in the mood. Nothing new." Crowley took his first bite of cheesecake. His face lit up at the sight of Maggie walking through the door.

Aziraphale turned and waved.

Maggie happily walked over to them. "Hello, you two. How was the visit to the Downs these last few days?"

"Very productive. It's coming along so nicely. We can't wait to have you and Nina for a visit." The angel reached for the plate of cheesecake.

"Oh! That will be so lovely. I can't wait to see what you have done with the place. Mr. Crowley has shown me pictures of your progress." She turned to Crowley. "New skin care routine?"

"Sorry?" Crowley asked with a mouthful of cheesecake.

"You just have that a nice glow about you today. All that fresh air must've done you some good." She paused while Crowley rubbed his cheeks. "Anyway, I'm off to say hello to Nina and get my afternoon caffeine boost. Talk to you soon!"

Crowley waved as he shoved another bite of cheesecake into his mouth, washing it down with water.

"I…uh…think I'll go up and grab another slice," Aziraphale said, still holding his unused fork.

"Why?" Crowley licked his very used fork.

"You ate the whole slice." Aziraphale was slightly stunned. "She makes a fine cheesecake, doesn't she?"

"Right." Crowley wasn't even aware that he was eating the whole thing. It was certainly delicious, but it wasn't like him to hog the whole plate like that. Most of the time, the whole point was to watch his angel indulge.

Back in the bookshop, angel and demon bellies full of cheesecake, Crowley settled down on the kitchen floor with his bag of soil and his new plants.

Aziraphale paced next to him. "Be mindful of making a mess," he said as he laid down a few pages of newspaper, moving Crowley's plant supplies on top of it.

Crowley gave an amused smile. He could re-pot a plant in his sleep - fact, he probably has - without spilling a single granule of soil. He loved having Aziraphale pacing about despite the annoyed countenance he gave off. In no time at all, all 4 plants were perfectly potted. He swiped his hand over the newspaper. "Not a speck, angel."

"Very well," Aziraphale sniffed. "I have things to attend to in the shop if you'd like to join me downstairs."

"I'll head down in a bit. Think I'll watch some television after I set the girls on the windowsill in the bedroom." He was tired. "What've we got to nosh on?" And hungry.

"Anything you'd like, dear."

"Watermelon. I'm dying for watermelon. Actually dying for it." He opened the fridge and looked through cupboards and the pantry. "We don't have any, do we?" He wanted to cry.

"I could run back out to the market, though I doubt they'd have any," he offered. He didn't want to face the same clerk who had been at the center of Crowley's plant wrath. He noticed a tear in Crowley's eye.

Aziraphale blinked. He couldn't think of a time when a.) Crowley ever craved a food enough to say he was dying or b.) Crowley actually cried over a snack or any meal. Aziraphale certainly did, but that was one of their many beautiful differences. He snapped and a large bowl of watermelon appeared, freshly cubed. "There you are my dear. Are you…alright?" Aziraphale wondered if there was more going on with his demon than the side effects of emotional processing.

"M'fine, Angel," he said, popping a cube of watermelon in his mouth. "Just gonna relax for a bit and watch something that doesn't use much brain power." As if brain power was doing anything to help him realize his glaringly obvious symptoms.

A few hours later, Aziraphale walked up to the flat to check on Crowley, who had been relatively quiet. The new plants were happily enjoying sunlight on the bedroom window, but Crowley wasn't in there. He found the demon on the sofa in the parlour, empty watermelon bowl set to the side. Crowley had a sour expression on his face despite watching once of his favorite silly shows. Aziraphale sank into the sofa next to him. "Why so glum? You love your gay pirates."

Crowley, again, seemed on the verge of angry tears. "Two fucking seasons, Aziraphale, two fucking seasons. That's all we got." He huffed. "Th-the story has so much further to go. And…Izzy." He frowned.

Aziraphale took a deep breath. "Well….it does have a rather lovely ending for those two fellows. You know they are together and happy. It could have been worse. They could have ended it with the two lovebirds at odds or separated or worse and you never would have known if they had their happy ending. No one enjoys that."

Crowley sighed loudly and snapped to shut the TV off. It switched to Paw Patrol instead. "What the…?" A few more snaps and Paw Patrol stubbornly stayed on.

Aziraphale stood up and walked over to the TV and shut it off. "This is always an option." Sitting back down next to Crowley, he asked, "What is going on?"

Crowley rubbed at his temples. "I don't know. Something is definitely off. My miracles are shit. I want to either yell or cry. Or both. I was pretty sad when I finished the watermelon. I'm still hungry. I'm exhausted. My tits hurt. And I've been feeling a little crampy since I've been sitting here." He looked at Aziraphale with his lips pursed and eyebrows raised. "I dunno." Of course he doesn't.

Aziraphale went over the list of symptoms in his head. They can certainly feel different things in their corporations, though sometimes they can choose not to. Just as it was about to click, he was interrupted by a shout from Crowley.

"Period!" The demon yelled and clapped his hands together.

"I beg your pardon?"

"It's my period." He practically cackled. "Fuck me, Angel." he was elated. Cracked the code.

"Well, I - I guess we could if you're feeling up to it. I -" he was interrupted again.

"Must've manifested the whole kit 'n' caboodle with this one." He gestured to his crotch. "I mean, I usually do when I've got this effort going."

"Yes, yes I know." Aziraphale solemnly thought of his demon going through the monthly rhythm as his way of atonement.

He gleefully listed his symptoms. "Sore tits, cravings, cranky, tired, crying, cramps. It's just PMS. Classic, really."

"PMS?"

"Yes, PMS. Right, so -" Crowley began to explain PMS, helpfully.

"Yes! Yes! I know. I've been through it. I know how all this works." Do you, Aziraphale?

"Right. Right," Crowley thought for a minute. "Probably fucking with my miracles, too." He laughed again, relieved. "I usually get vicious cravings for chocolate, Angel. You've been warned."

"So…when…?" Aziraphale wasn't even sure of what he was asking.

"Oh, probably any day now. I used to be a pretty regular chap once the whole process got going. I'll have more warning next month. Don't worry, we can still fuck. If that's what you're asking. I don't mind."

"Oh!" Aziraphale blushed. "Oh, of course. Nothing wrong with that at all. I just…well, you haven't got any supplies."

"Oh right," reality dawned on Crowley. "No matter, we can just miracle something. Been a long, long time for me. Lots of new fangled products out there. There's even a cup. Imagine that!" He thought back to periods past. "Back in my day we were using husks. Or wool. Tying up all sorts of unsettling contraptions. Rags. Just letting it flow. Sitting on bales of straw. Awful on the bits. Awful. "

"Right. I remember." Another reasons Aziraphale rarely indulged in the functional parts when he switched efforts.

"Well, I'm gonna have a lie down. I feel so much better knowing what's going on. Can't believe I missed all those signs. Like riding a bike, eh? Bit wobbly at first,” he mimed riding a bike, “but then you remember what to do." He got up to head into the bedroom, leaning over to give Aziraphale a quick kiss. "Meet you for supper later?"

"Of course. I may just pop out for a bit." Aziraphale had an idea to help his demon. "I'll wake you if you're not up when I return."

The door bells jingled as Aziraphale stepped into the chemist and waved a hello to the clerk. He rounded a few aisles before finding the one he was looking for. He passed by racks of condoms, lube, pregnancy tests, ovulation kits…Don't need those, he thought. "Ah yes." He found the hygiene items. "Oh….no." There were so many. So, so many. "Overnight….super…wings…wings?...thin….extra absorbent….cups…
Discs….oh my, what are period knickers?" He asked himself. Tampons, pads, liners, a cup? Little pants? Thick, thin, mid size? Wings? Seriously, wings? Aziraphale's head spun at all the choices. What would his demon want? This would be a good time for a mobile telephone, but he didn't have it with him and Crowley was probably napping and…

"Can I be of assistance, sir?" The clerk was in the aisle with him, drawn to him by his obviously confused face.

"Oh! Oh hello!" He smiled his best angel smile, the one that tells people that everything will be alright and fills them with a resounding sense of peace. "Yes…my uh…my boyfriend is in need of these items…and…uh….well, it's been a while, you see, and I don't quite know what he needs….or where to start."

The clerk smiled warmly. "Very well. Do you know if he prefers pads or tampons? Or maybe a menstrual cup? Does he deal with a heavy flow?"

"Oh…I…uh…his flow? Um... Trust me, when I say it's been a long while, I mean it."

"Oh, I get that, luv," she said, "many people are irregular. You can't go wrong with a combo of pads and tampons."

"Yes…but they are all different sizes. There are wings. And then these knickers. What….well, what if he would prefer those or…oh, I thought I was being helpful." He was grabbing onto his hands and pulling on his fingers. "I don't even know what size he'd be. He's quite thin." Aziraphale picked up the pack of period pants and turned it over in his hands.

Noticing his nerves, the clerk was determined to be helpful. "Oh! I've seen him. You two stand out a bit. He is very thin, you're right, but also very tall. This one -" she pulled a package of period pants off the shelf - " will probably fit nicely."

"Oh, thank you." He considered everything else. "What about the cups? How do you figure out which one?"

"Has he ever given birth? Usually, they are one size for younger people and another for those who are a bit older or who have given birth. I take it you two are over 40?"

She was polite. "Ah yes, just a bit, dear. He's never given birth, though." What a silly thought. Imagine. Probably little baby snakes everywhere. "You know. I think I'll take one of everything."

The clerk looked shocked. "Sir, that's quite a lot we have here. Are you sure? Perhaps start small and come back?"

"Oh no, he doesn't like me to fuss. One shopping trip and done is probably best." As if buying out an aisle of hygiene products is not a fuss.

"Very well. Let's get you rung up then."

As the machine beeped over and over and over to scan his items, Aziraphale noticed a rack of sweets. Remembering Crowley's comment about cravings, he grabbed a handful of Cadbury bars and set them on the counter. And a pen. He grabbed a pen.

The clerk eyed the pen.

Aziraphale eyed the clerk. "For…uh…I lost mine and that's why I came here."

"Right." She smiled. He wasn't the first embarrassed customer she's encountered in that aisle. God forbid he ever had to buy condoms. Or a pregnancy test. He'd probably faint.

Crowley awoke to the sound of the shop doors opening. "Aziraphale?!" He called out, wiping the sleep from his eyes. He had been dreaming that a whale had eaten him by accident and then subsequently gave birth to him. It was weird and unpleasant. He heard Aziraphale walking up the stairs and was completely unprepared for what he was about to see.

Aziraphale, panting just a bit, appeared in the doorway, arms loaded with…three…no, four…actually six. Six bags. "I purchased some…supplies. For you. There are plenty of options"

"Aziraphale," Crowley's eyes were wide and it took him a moment to register exactly what Aziraphale was holding. "You…you bought out the entire bleeding aisle." He held back his laugh, careful not to offend his helpful angel. They could have just miracled something. Well, that was neither here nor there.

"No. Just one of each option. Plenty left behind at the chemist. It was too much to choose from. Some have wings."

"Wings?"

"Wings. Whatever they do." Aziraphale emptied the contents of his bag onto the bed, surrounding Crowley in a nest of every single menstrual product imaginable.

"Angel," the laugh broke free, "you spoil me. These will hold me over for at least a century of bleeding." He saw the sweets. "Oi! You got me chocolate." He reached through the packs of pads to grab a bar, quickly tearing it open and stuffing it into his mouth. "Well any day now," he mumbled through chocolate. "And a pen. Wow. You know how to spoil your demon."

By the end of the day, a new cabinet appeared in the bathroom and was loaded with Crowley's new supplies. Ready and waiting.

Crowley beckoned Aziraphale to turn in early with him later that evening. He was exhausted. And horny. Their lovemaking was slow, lazy, and very gentle as Crowley's sore chest was making it difficult for the angel to engage in nipple play or even just caress him. Aziraphale had a brief, fleeting thought that perhaps he ought not to finish inside Crowley, but he banished it and the thought was forgotten within a moment. Wouldn't have mattered anyway. He snuggled the demon in his arms, noticing that his usual protective feeling for him was growing stronger.

Crowley was fast asleep, though not for long. He began squirming a bit and then woke up with a start. “What the…?” He looked down at his belly.

“Everything alright, dear?” Aziraphale asked. “Is…is it starting?”

“No, I don’t think it’s that. It’s uh…..”

“Ah!” Aziraphale was pleased with himself. “What goes up must come down.” He remembered.

“No. Not that either. I….I have to piss.” He hopped out of bed. “Boy, really did myself in with this go around,” he said as he dashed into the bathroom. A moment later, there was the sound of things being moved around in the bathroom before he called out to Aziraphale. “Aziraphale, can you come help me?”

He forgot how to pee? Aziraphale wondered. They don’t tend to do it at all, but it’s a pretty simple mechanism should they choose it. He walked in to find Crowley, sheepishly sitting on the toilet, knees pressed together as if embarrassed, with a roll in his hand. An actual bread roll.

“We don’t have toilet tissue here. I tried a miracle, but,” he held up the roll, “wrong kind of roll. I don’t remember my miracles being this bad before. First time for everything, I suppose.”

They had stocked the cottage with toilet rolls for their guests, but they never had use for any in the bookshop flat. Aziraphale snapped and replaced the wrong roll with the right one. “Anything else, my dear?”

“Privacy.”

Back in bed, they cuddled together. “Any day now. Can’t wait to get it over with and get back to normal,” Crowley yawned.

“You know you don’t have to go through this. You are not responsible - “ he looked at Crowley’s face. He was already dozing off. Maggie had been right. He did have a different sort of glow. Everything about him felt different.

Crowley was slow to get up in the morning. Despite sleep, he was still tired. Also hungry. Also horny. And he had to pee again.
Aziraphale was once again sitting next to him, reading a book. Crowley sat up, kissed him on the cheek and said, “don’t move. Just need to hit the loo and will be right back. Might want to lose the trousers.” Aziraphale had already mostly dressed for the day, save the waistcoat and jacket.

Washing his hands, Crowley looked up into the mirror. He face did seem different, but he couldn’t place why. Was he glowing like Maggie had said? He didn’t think so, but something was definitely different. He shrugged and made his way back to bed, immediately straddling Aziraphale. Time to take care of this need. Crowley rode Aziraphale quickly and to a very satisfying finish for both, declaring himself "starving" as he leaned into Aziraphale's arms, panting.

"I'll make us breakfast," Aziraphale offered while pulling his trousers back up. He leaned back down on the bed to kiss his demon. “Meet you in the kitchen.”

Crowley sat in bed and thought over all of the strangeness of the past few days. He’s dealt with a myriad of symptoms anytime he chose to have a period. Most of what he was feeling was exactly what he’d expect. Except the miracles. He’d feel a little drained with miracles in the past, but nothing like he was experiencing in these last few days with misfires. “Well, guess this is a new part of it.” He wasn’t going to think about it for too long. Of course not. A few mishaps later, he was fully dressed. And he had to pee again. “Oh let’s get it over with already.” This is what he chose, though. He was going to suffer through it. “My cock up in the first place,” he muttered to himself while on the toilet. He checked the tissue as he wiped, hopeful the flow was on its way. All clear.

The next few days unfolded in a fairly similar manner. Crowley would be hungry and tired. Horny and cranky. Crampy. Full of pee. And the ever-present soreness in his chest would not let up. Aziraphale coddled his demon, keeping him well-hydrated and well-fed and well-fucked. The refrigerator remained well-stocked in watermelon as Crowley craved it constantly. He’d soothe his cranky nerves and then wipe away the tears that would always show up eventually. He offered to brew his own herbal concoctions to help alleviate symptoms, but Crowley declined, guided by an instinct. Aziraphale would hold him close after sex, keeping guard over his sleeping demon.

On the morning when things would eventually click into place, Aziraphale was doing his crossword puzzles after breakfast when Crowley announced he’d head over to Nina’s for a little pre-lunch snack to bring back home. He just had to run up and pee again first.

At the cafe, he sauntered over to the counter and was cheerfully greeted by Nina and Maggie. Maggie had popped over for a chat with her Nina.

“Some cima…cin…cinnamon rolls for my cinnamon roll, please. And one of those…uh…uh…froofy little latte potions he loves.”

“You’re in luck, Mr. Crowley. Rather, Mr. Fell is in luck. They’ve just come out of the oven. They’ll be nice and warm.” Nina turned away to complete his order.

Maggie began to chat him up about some albums she thought he’d be interested in, but Crowley suddenly couldn’t concentrate. The smell in the cafe was overpowering. His stomach began to roil. Oh, it was vile. “What is that smell? It’s so strong!” He face was an obvious grimace.

Nina was taken aback by the disgust in his face. “It’s…it’s just the cinnamon. It’s no more than usual.”

“It smells nice in here,” Maggie added. “Almost like Christmas! Anyway, this one record -”

Whatever she was about to say, he’ll never know. Crowley immediately felt bile rising in his throat as his stomach turned and clenched. Sweat began to build up at his hairline as his skin flushed. “Lavatory?” He looked around in a panic. “Where is the toilet?”

“Over there.” Maggie pointed helpfully, concern growing on her face. “Oh, you don’t look very well.”

Crowley turned on his heels to head to the toilet, but he didn’t make it. Instead, he ducked his head in a bin and vomited his breakfast and a lot of watermelon. His throat was burning, nose running, and his eyes watered. “Oh….no,” he said, spitting into the bin. “I’m so sorry.”

Nina and Maggie were immediately at his side. Maggie held out napkins while Nina placed a cool rag onto his head. “You turned very green, very fast,” she said. “Let’s sit you down.”

Crowley was embarrassed. He wiped his mouth with the napkins. “I have to go,” he called as he ran for the door.

Maggie and Nina looked at each other. “I think I can put two and two together,” said Maggie. “You never know what to expect with these two. But it seems someone is definitely expecting.”

Crowley’s stomach roiled again as he ran across the street and into the bookshop. The door slammed behind him, startling Aziraphale, who had been working on a translation at his desk. Crowley ran up the stairs as fast as possible. “Oh, no, no, no,” he pleaded as he just barely made it to the toilet, retching bile into the water. He heard Aziraphale’s quick footsteps running up the stairs as he continued to retch into the toilet.

“Crowley?!” Aziraphale was behind him in a flash. “Oh, Crowley! Are you alright?”

“Does it look like I’m alright, Angel?” He spit into the toilet. He knew Aziraphale was about to fuss over him. “Don’t worry. This is normal” He spit again. He knew this wasn’t over.

“Normal? Normal?! Crowley, I think -”

“I get sick with it sometimes. Usually from the other end, but this isn’t a surprise.” Oh…Crowley. “It’ll all be over in a few days, trust me. Once the blood comes, everything but the cramps start to go away.”

“Crowley, I think we ought -”

“I don’t want to think right now, Aziraphale. Please. Stop.” His nose and throat were burning. His stomach flipped again. “Oh…no. Oh, please.” He vomited again.

Aziraphale was at his side with a cool flannel, wiping at his face and neck. He brushed his sweaty hair back. Crowley’s body felt hot each time he retched, so Aziraphale pulled off his blazer and his shoes and helped the demon roll up his sleeves. “Can I draw you a bath? Or start the shower for you?”

“That’s sounds lovely, but I don’t think I’m finished here.” He was right. Tears streamed out of his eyes.

Aziraphale rubbed his back in circles. After a long, vomit-free while, the angel began to run a bath for Crowley, who was rinsing his mouth out in the sink. He helped him out of his clothes, minding his sore chest. After assisting the demon into the tub, Aziraphale sank to his knees on the floor next to it. Folding a flannel in half, he lovingly wiped the demon’s face and mouth. He lathered up another flannel with Crowley’s favorite vetiver soap and began washing his body. “Can I get you a glass of water?”

“I’m not ready yet. I’m too scared.” Crowley was huddled in the tub, holding his knees with his arms.

“Crowley - “ he was immediately interrupted by the sound of the door opening downstairs. “Fuck! I forgot the door!” He put his hand on Crowley’s shoulder. “Is it okay if I -”

“S’okay, Angel,” Crowley’s voice was raspy from everything. “I’m not dying.”

Aziraphale quickly made his way downstairs to find Maggie just inside the door, holding a bag and two takeaway coffee cups. “Crowley left these behind after he got sick,” she said.

“He was sick in the shop?” Aziraphale looked up towards the stairs.

“Oh yeah. Poor thing. Turned greener than a frog.” She held out the cups. “Nina made these again so they are warm. This is a special latte for you - toffee apple. And a ginger tea for Mr. Crowley to help with his..uh….” She wasn’t sure if she should let on that she knew. “His…uh…nausea. Oh, and these are the cinnamon rolls he ordered for you. I think these are what set him off.” She handed him the bag.

“I thank you, my dear. And thank Nina for us. How very kind of you both.”

“I’m sure you’re taking care of Mr. Crowley. I won’t keep you. Please call and let us know if you need anything.” She headed out the door.

Aziraphale climbed back up the stairs. He dropped the rolls off in the kitchen and took a sip of his latte before setting it down. “Oh that is quite good.” He set Crowley’s tea down, too, unsure if he would be able to drink it. One more sip of his latte and he joined Crowley in the bathroom again. Crowley was now stretched out - well, as stretched as he could be in the tub - with his head leaning back on the rim of the tub. Aziraphale placed a folded towel under his head and resumed his work by dabbing at Crowley’s face and head with a new flannel.

“Crowley, I think this is enough. What you’re putting yourself through for some sort of penance has gone far enough, I believe.”

“Angel, please don’t. This is something I’ve decided and I would rather you respect that.” He softened. “I know it’s hard for you to see me like this, but I’m an old pro at it. As you like to say - fit as a fiddle.” He splashed a little water at the angel and smiled.

“It’s hard to watch you suffer. Always has been.” His lip quivered. “I feel helpless.”

“Helpless? Angel, you bought me 6 million pads. You’ve been indulging my cravings and taking care of me. I don’t think that’s helpless.” He pointed to a bath towel. “Here, help me out, please.”

Aziraphale helped Crowley out of the tub, dried him off, and helped him back into clothing. “Would you like to wear something more comfortable, dear? In case….In case you get sick again?"

“May be a good idea. I think something more comfortable because I have no plans to get off the sofa for the rest of the day.” He made a motion to miracle his clothing, but Aziraphale was ahead of him. He found himself in pyjama pants and a black t-shirt. And ducky socks. Duckies with bowties.” Crowley raised an eyebrow.

Aziraphale smiled. “Those are my own pick.”

Crowley felt that the worst had passed, so he grabbed the ginger tea from the kitchen and took it to the sofa. Aziraphale sat with him, letting the demon stretch out on the sofa, putting his feet in Aziraphale’s lap. He rubbed Crowley’s feet.

Crowley chose an episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation.

“Ah yes, the spaceship show. I must say, I prefer this to the other spaceship movie. The one with the light swords.” Aziraphale was hip to the times.

Crowley just smiled at him. He loved his clueless angel so much. He focused on the show, happy to find it was an episode centered on Data. He was rather enamoured with the character and the actor who played him. He found Data the android to be relatable. Unable to feel emotion - a sort of damnation, Crowley thought - the android expressed a desire to truly experience humanity, to fit in and find acceptance. Crowley understood that. He was drawn to the actor’s portrayal and how he managed to make a cold, metal machine without feelings the most emotional and human character on the show. He also liked the fellow’s yellow eyes. This episode featured Data building an android - a daughter of his own. The episode took a turn as there was a fatal flaw in the daughter’s programming and Data tried desperately to save her, but failed. Crowley felt his face grow wet. He couldn’t imagine this. I wouldn’t be able to handle it if that happened to my ba- he bolted upright at the thought. All blood rushed from his head to his feet and he felt both flushed and clammy. His heart began to pound. He thought back to the first time he and Aziraphale made love after he changed his effort. The spark of hope in his mind. The longing. The pangs he’d felt in the nursery room. The miracle. The tugging deep inside. All of these damned “pms” symptoms. How could he be so stupid? His breath became rapid. “Aziraphale…” he was shaking and dropped the tea to the floor, the golden liquid streamed out of the lid.

“Crowley? What’s going on? Are you going to be sick again? Let’s get you to the toilet.” A quick miracle cleaned up the tea.

“Aziraphale.” Tears flowed from his eyes and he searched the air around him to find words. A small cry broke free before he could speak. “I’ve got it all wrong, Aziraphale.” He couldn’t stop shaking. Couldn’t say it.

“Crowley…you’re scaring me.” It was beginning to dawn on him.

“Oh….God. I’m…I’m…pregnant.” The last word came out in a desperate sob. “I’m pregnant, Aziraphale.”

“That can’t be. We don’t…that doesn’t happen. It’s never happened. We’re not made for that, Crowley.” Aziraphale didn’t believe the words coming out of his own mouth. He was trying to make them true. How could they miss this? He thought back to the night of Rocky Horror. The overwhelming primal need to fill Crowley. The miracle in the kitchen. All of the changes he sensed within Crowley. His symptoms. The sudden upwelling of his own protective nature. He had known all along. “It can’t be.” Oh, it could.

“Well it can. Because it is.” Crowley was on his feet, pacing in panic. Staying angry so he wouldn’t feel the fear struggling to break free.

“How can we be sure?” Aziraphale was hoping for any answer that would take them out of this reality.

“Because I can be sure. It's obvious.”

“You said…you were certain it was premenstrual syndrome, Crowley!” His voice was high-pitched and fearful. He fidgeted with his ring, spinning it on his finger, pulling it half off and then back on over and over.

“I was wrong. In denial.” He circled the sofa
and Aziraphale over and over. He needed to keep the adrenaline up or he’d collapse. “I need a test. A pregnancy test. Then we’ll know.” He already knew.

Aziraphale miracled one into his hands.

“No! No more of these bloody miracles. I need the real thing. I’ll go - “

“I’ll go. You’re in no state right now.” Neither was Aziraphale, but he was less likely to breathe hellfire if, God forbid, another clerk offended him. “Will you be alright? This is all so sudden and I don’t want to leave you.”

No. No he's not alright. “Just go. I’m already not alright. The sooner we get an answer. The sooner we can figure out how to handle it.” His own words cut through him. “Just leave.” He sat on the edge of the sofa and rocked, staring at nothing.

Aziraphale walked quickly to the chemist, waved a shaky hello, and headed for the the same aisle he had been in days ago. This time, he was faced with a million test options. He took one of each. His hand hovered over a box of condoms. He grabbed it. Just in case.

“Back again, I see. Oh - “ the clerk registered what was going on and silently scanned everything. She gave Aziraphale a sympathetic look, seeing that he was obviously distressed and had bought condoms to go with the tests. Obviously whatever happened was unplanned.

Aziraphale was back in a flash, whether it was by miracle or not. He found Crowley exactly where he left him, rocking on the edge of the sofa, in a trance. “Crowley-” he startled the demon. “I have several options…”

Crowley grabbed the bag and ran to the bathroom, shutting the door. He ripped open two boxes. They were both so pink and cheerful. He held back a sob. One digital test. One regular test. It was a challenge, but he managed to get both in a single stream. His hands were shaking as he balanced the tests on the edge of the sink. He didn't want to sit and wait in the bathroom. He set the alarm on his phone, picked up the bag with the rest of the tests, and walked out of the bathroom.

He found Aziraphale sitting on the edge of the mattress, eyes wet and red. Crowley dumped the contents of the bag onto the bed and pointed to the box of condoms. "What are thossse for?"

Aziraphale had already forgotten about his impulsive purchase. "In case…in case you're not…and we don't…" he couldn't get words out.

Crowley sat next to him. "Thisss isn't something you want." his voice was low, still raspy from earlier, and serious.

"That's not…it's not that…I…I…fuck! I don't know what to do, Crowley. This is all new to me. All of it! The relationship. The sex. The fact that you can even become pregnant." He rubbed his eyes. "I don't know what we're supposed to do." He squeezed his hands together, forcefully rubbing them.

Crowley stared at the floor. At his feet. At the ceiling. He couldn't think of what to say. All he felt was fear. That, coupled with the knowledge that Aziraphale doesn't want this. Not that he wanted - the alarm rang.

They sat silently next to each other for a moment, anxious and uncertain. The room seemed devoid of sound, of air. Crowley rose to his feet, not making contact of any kind with the angel.

"I'll go with you," Aziraphale said, but he didn't stand. He watched Crowley walk past him and into the bathroom. Hearing the pitched cry a moment later, he jumped to his feet and ran into the bathroom, finding Crowley crouched on the floor. "Crowley!" He rushed over to his demon and looked at the plastic sticks on the sink. Two dark pink lines on one test. The word "pregnant" on the other. "Oh, oh darling." He sank to his knees and wrapped his arms around Crowley.

Chapter Text

Crowley sobbed. His entire body convulsed with his cries. "It can't be. It can't be."

"I've got you my darling. You are safe." Whatever transpired between them since that moment Crowley bolted upright on the sofa didn't matter. Aziraphale would always be there for him. "Deep breaths now, my love."

Crowley was stiff in the angel's arms at first, more out of fear than any sort of resentment or anger at him. He knew, ultimately, that they were together in this. Whatever "this" ended up being. He let himself melt into Aziraphale. "It can't be. I'm…so scared."

"Let's get you up off this floor, my dear." He helped Crowley stand, but the demon was weakened and shaking. Between the vomiting, the fact that it was now past lunch, and the shock of all this, he knew Crowley lacked the strength needed to get to the bedroom. "Come now, I'll carry you." He hitched his arm around his shoulder and the other arm under his legs and carried him to the bed, miracling away the box of condoms. The rest of the tests were still on the bed. Crowley grabbed one.

"Let me take one more." He sat up, but Aziraphale placed a gentle hand to his shoulder.

"I think we have our answer." Aziraphale said softly as he took the box from Crowley and picked up the rest of the boxes and placed them in the shopping bag, setting it on the floor. He sat on the edge of the bed, holding Crowley's hand.

"I'm sorry. I should not have panicked like that." He picked up Crowley's hand and kissed it. "I'm right here. For you."

"I'd worry if you didn't panic." He began to cry. "I'm sorry."

"Why? Why, my darling? There is nothing to be sorry for." His voice was still shaking from his own fear, but he tried to soothe his demon. Whatever questions they had would have to wait.

"I should have known better. Everything in there functions like the humans do, if I let it. I never guessed I was truly letting it be…receptive in that way."

"How could you know?" This has never happened to any of our kind on Earth. Or anywhere." He moved himself to sit next to Crowley. Leaning up against the headboard, he held his arms out to him and brought him into a hug, holding him at his chest. "We have never learned since our time on Earth - we misunderstand one another. We fight. We don't speak. We can't go that route any longer. " He squeezed his arms around him. "We've done better as far as our relationship, but we must be careful not to fall into old habits. We can't be at odds at a time like this. We need to guide one another."

"We can't be at odds. " He began to cry again, not that he ever stopped. "I'm so scared."

"The unknown is terrifying. That's why we weather it together. That's what you and I do. As we have always done." He kissed his head. "Look at how far that's gotten us. We’re safe to be us now.”

Crowley wanted so badly to feel soothed, but how could he? There was no precedent for this. No guidebook for demons who get pregnant and the angels who knock them up.

His thoughts turned darker. “My body is damned, Angel. All of me, damned. How can I create or carry life? I can’t damn a child, you know that.”

Aziraphale clenched his lids shut as new tears welled up. “I don’t know why or how." He paused to consider his next words carefully. “You do know that the choice is yours, Crowley.” He wiped his tears. “There are options. Nothing will be the wrong choice. I will support you no matter what.” Most of Crowley's existence involved not having a choice over much of anything. Aziraphale would not let him feel like that again.

The gravity of his words washed over Crowley, but he knew he couldn’t damn a child to an existence as a demon. Or maybe he was being damned again.

“What if this is my punishment for defiling an angel?” Considering all they had been through and despite the reassurances of their safety now, he would never fully trust anything in the celestial or demonic realm.

“Defiling an angel? My dear, that’s not how that works. We don’t have the same hang-ups about sexuality as humans. You know this. You can’t defile me. Besides, every action of mine in that realm has been completely intentional.” He thought for a moment, searching for any stability he could hold onto. “So much is unknown to us, but we do have someone who can help us with the small part that we do know. Anathema. I think she’d be an exceptional resource and could guide us on our next steps with whatever you choose in terms of the…physical matters.”

Physical matters. They both knew what he was saying. Crowley didn’t want to think about choices. His body began to tremble. His stomach hurt. His entire face hurt.

“Let’s call her. Where is my phone?”

Aziraphale made it appear. “Right here.”

“Can you call? I can’t talk right now.”

"Of course." Aziraphale fiddled and swiped at the phone, growing frustrated with all the new-fangled technology. “Call Anathema,” he commanded. “Please.” It was barely a second before her voice came through the phone.

“Crowley?” she asked.

“You do astound me with your psychic prowess my dear.” Aziraphale was stressed, but impressed. “No, this is Aziraphale. On Crowley’s mobile telephone.”

Despite the turmoil of the day, Crowley couldn't help the tiny smile drawn on his face at Aziraphale's awkwardness on the phone. The obviousness of it all was endearing.

“I have caller ID.”

“No matter. My dear, Crowley and I are in need of your services. At your birth center. With all the bells and whistles. I’m afraid it’s rather urgent.” He was confident an appointment was open for the very next morning.

“Oh. At the birth center? For…? Never mind…Yes, yes, I can see you first thing in the morning. Can you be there at 8:00 am?” She cleared her throat. “And…is everything alright?” She didn’t need psychic prowess to understand that something was amiss if her weird demon and angel friends needed to be at her birth center.

“We have hope that you can help us figure that out.” Aziraphale tried to sound confident.

“I’m always happy to help you two however I can.” Her voice was a reassuring light.

“Thank you, my dear. We will see you first thing!” He placed the phone on the night stand. "We can go in the morning. 8:00 am sharp".

Crowley was still trembling. His eyes were entirely yellow, save for the black slits that cut across their center. His skin was cool and pale, beloved freckles faded.

“I know you may not feel like it, but you should probably eat something. You lost your breakfast and you haven’t had lunch. Perhaps I can bring you some watermelon.”

Crowley dry heaved at the thought. “I never want to see another watermelon for the rest of this eternity.” He thought of the sight of the undigested melon in the trash can in the coffee shop and dry heaved once more. “Never again.”

“Perhaps I can bring you some toast. Or crackers. Maybe a soup?” Feeding him felt like something Aziraphale could have control over. Something that could help the trembling. At the very least, it was a small thing Aziraphale could fix.

Crowley still felt very sick, but his stomach was gnawing at itself in hunger. “Toast would be good. Maybe with the tiniest amount of jam.” He shifted over in bed to allow Aziraphale to get up.

“Are you sure you are okay for me to leave you here?”

“Still not dying….I think. I’m not going anywhere. Just don’t make a big production out of it. Be quick.”

He may die from this, he doesn’t truly know. He accepted a kiss on the cheek from the angel and curled up in a ball as he awaited his return, tears streaming down his face and onto the bed. He had no idea how or what to think about. Everything he had wished for with Aziraphale has come true, including this. And now, he was terrified. He'd played a dangerous game of hoping and now he'd damned them both. Or all three of them. The thought of the three of them gripped his heart. He turned his head into the pillow and sobbed loudly, hoping the fluff was enough to stifle the noise from the angel.

In the kitchen, Aziraphale couldn’t stop his hands from shaking as he dropped bread into the toaster. He fell to his knees in front of the counter. Folding his hands together, he looked heavenward and began crying quietly, careful not to let Crowley hear. He needed to be strong for him.

“Please….please…please…” he begged, dropping his head onto his folded hands in fervent prayer, his sobs shaking his entire body as he rocked back and forth on his knees.

Moments later, Aziraphale was back in the room carrying a tray of toast with jam and a large glass of ice water. He smiled warmly as if he hadn't just been on his knees in the kitchen, pleading for mercy.

Crowley reluctantly bit into the toast, afraid of his stomach, but quickly regained some bravery as his body began to feel relief at the bland sustenance. He finished off the four slices in no time.

“My, you were hungry,” Aziraphale noted as he watched Crowley carefully sip water. He caught his breath in a small sob as he remembered that Crowley was hungry because his body was working to grow something. Or someone.

“I have to pee. Help me up?” He took the angel’s arm. His legs felt very shaky, but he was already feeling just a bit better from the toast. He minded the two pregnancy tests, still balanced on the sink as he washed his hands. Their boxes, torn in half, were still on the floor. He felt as if he’d lived two lifetimes since he saw those two lines and that “pregnant” screen. In reality, it hadn’t even been two hours.

He climbed back into bed and into Aziraphale’s waiting arms. He was quiet, focused on everything and nothing, unable to get his thoughts in order. His body was exhausted and he wanted to sleep. He was determined to fight it off as much as he could, but eventually the sleep won and he was quietly dozing, safe as he'll ever be in Aziraphale's arms.

Aziraphale didn't let go of Crowley through the night. The demon had fallen asleep very early - it had been late afternoon. Supper was missed, but that was no matter to Aziraphale. His job was to protect Crowley and the - he didn't want to think it or give into the hope. He closed his eyes and leaned back into the headboard, breaking into the first of many silent sobs that would rock him through the night. Crowley felt so frail in his arms, but Aziraphale could feel the tiniest possible life force emanating from him. He knew that was the miracle he'd felt in the kitchen all those days ago. How can anything like that be damned?

Crowley dreamt he was at the cottage, sitting on the floor of the empty nursery room. He held a bucket of paint in one hand and a brush in the other. Standing up, he dipped the brush into the bucket and began painting the walls. Each brush stroke revealed a swatch of the night sky until the entire room was covered in stars and he was floating among them. He felt lost in the familiar sensation from his time as an angel. Suddenly, as had happened at Creation, Aziraphale appeared next to him, dressed in the same long white robe as long ago. He mouthed his name, but no sound came out. Aziraphale smiled his warm, reassuring smile at him and held out his hand. A tiny light, surrounded by a puff of cloudy gas appeared in his hand. A protostar. The very beginning of a new star. He gestured to Crowley, who opened his own hand to receive this tiny light from Aziraphale. He could feel its burgeoning heat and its power. Aziraphale didn't speak, but Crowley could hear his voice. "That's our star," the angel's voice reverberated in his head. Crowley felt warm all over and -

He was snapped out of his dream by a warmth flooding his corporeal body. He opened his eyes and sat up, pulling free from the angel's protective arms.

"Crowley?" Aziraphale reached to put a hand back over his shoulder.

"Oh no." The warmth was a familiar flush from the day before. He jumped out of the bed and ran into the bathroom, just barely making it to the toilet before the contents of his stomach, which was fairly empty, spewed out of him. He was vaguely aware of a strong hand stroking his back as he continued to retch nothingness into the toilet. His ears were ringing and his throat burned something awful. His stomach continued to flip, still dry heaving as nothing was left in him. He leaned onto the toilet with his hands on the seat as he tried to steady his breath. A cool flannel was wiped along the back of his neck.

Aziraphale held Crowley under the elbow to help him stand up. He dabbed his brow with the flannel, wiping away the sweat that had appeared there. His heart broke to look at Crowley's face, twisted in despair.

"I don't know if I can do this everyday." Crowley felt like his core had been hollowed out. The churning in his gut returned and he leaned over the toilet to heave the emptiness from his stomach. His eyes and nose burned along with his throat.

“Crowley, you don’t have to go through this. I support any choice you make. Anathema can guide us on that option, should you want to end -”

Crowley held up his hand to the angel as he leaned into the toilet. He couldn't think now.

The process repeated several times until Crowley found himself sitting on the floor, leaning back against the bathtub. Aziraphale knelt next to him, wiping his face with a flannel. His face showed much worry, sure, but Crowley could see the pure, gentle love that was always present for him in his Angel’s eyes. He reached for the hand that was wiping his face and held it there.

“I love you, Angel.” Tears overflowed from his eyes.

Aziraphale wrapped his arms around him. “Oh, I do love you, my dear. So much,” he said. I love both of you, so much, he was afraid to say.

Crowley leaned into Aziraphale for a minute or two. “My appointment?” he mumbled into the angel’s shoulder.

“We should leave soon, I’m afraid. Might you like a shower? Or something light to eat?”

“I think I’ll take a shower. I could do with toast again.” His stomach churned at the thought, but he wasn’t sure what else he should do as he was feeling very weakened. He rinsed his mouth at the sink. The two tests were still there, results glaring at him.

“Can you help me undress?”

Aziraphale helped him out of his pyjamas and into the warm shower. Initially, he thought he would go to the kitchen to prepare the toast while Crowley showered, but it was immediately obvious that he would need assistance washing. Aziraphale carefully washed him, mindful of his sore chest. As he slowly swiped the flannel above the mound of hair between his legs, he thought of what was happening within him. Tears stung his eyes, red and irritated by all of the crying he had done since the day before.

“Hey.” Crowley reached a hand to tip Aziraphale’s chin up and meet wet blue eyes with wet yellow eyes, his irises still blown wide. He brushed a kiss onto the angel’s lips, mindful that he had spent a long amount of time vomiting before his shower. “Thank you for taking care of me.” His voice was hoarse.

“Always, my love. Always, always." Aziraphale kissed back a little more firmly. “I love you.” He dried Crowley off and helped him dress, using his own miracles, before making his way to the kitchen to make toast. Just as he had done the night before, he openly sobbed as he leaned on the counter.

“Please let him be alright. Please let everything be alright. Oh, please.”

He collected himself as he spread the tiniest amount of jam on the toast. He would be very strong for Crowley, he told himself.

Crowley was sitting exactly where Aziraphale left him on the bed, arms folded over his stomach. Aziraphale sat next to him, holding the tray of toast and water and a small hopeful glass of orange juice.

“I thought maybe this would be a bit of a boost to your blood sugar.”

“Thank you, Angel.”

Crowley took a small bite of toast. He thought back to when they made love after seeing Rocky Horror. How he had held Aziraphale’s face and looked into his eyes as they climaxed together, knowing he would want them to remember that moment. He remembered the brief minute where his consciousness entered another plane, mixing with the celestial essence of Aziraphale. The spark of hope. He had known all along what he wanted. He has always known - he couldn’t admit it to himself so he would constantly push it down, never allowing the full desire to take hold. Unlike their love life, he wasn’t going to drag this process out. He was going to be honest and actually talk.

“Aziraphale?” He tried a small sip of the orange juice, willing it to stay down. “What if….what if I wanted this?”

“I will support the choice you make, Crowley.” He took a deep breath and attempted to conceal the hope in his voice. “Do you? Do you want this?”

Aziraphale admitted to himself that a small part of him had hoped this would happen. He never believed it could - there is no history of it and all of his understanding was that neither angels nor demons could become pregnant or get anyone pregnant. Still, he had allowed himself a tiny fantasy, giving into the corporeal needs of his body each time they made love, willingly pouring himself into Crowley and hoping there was a connection.

Crowley didn’t make an effort to stop the tears from rolling down his face, briefly wondering how he had any fluid left in his body.

“Aziraphale, I wanted this before it happened. Hoped for it.” A small cry rose in his raw throat and his voice cracked around it at the admission. “I think…please don’t be mad…I think I changed efforts with this very hope in mind.”

He dipped his chin down, unable to make eye contact with his beloved and nausea washed over him with his next words. "Demons don't heal, Angel. I just -" his chest shuddered - "I tempted you and trapped you and…that's purely demonic." He didn't want to say the following words, but he needed to make penance to his angel.

"Forgive me, Aziraphale." His shoulders shook. "I will take care of this. You don't have to…uh…I will take care of this." He dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. "I just beg you not to be mad at me for eternity. Please."

Aziraphale put his arm around him, careful not to knock over his small breakfast. He kept his breath steady despite the words of his love shattering all of his resolve and piercing through him.

“I will not be mad at you, my dear." He inhaled sharply. "I was part of the design team when humans were being created and I was there when it was decided how breeding would happen. I've known how it works even before we stood together as you created their heavens. If you think I could be tempted or trapped in such a way, you are mistaken."

He gently kissed the side of his forehead. He thought of how wounded Crowley had looked when he pointed to the condoms - how he thought it must mean Aziraphale didn’t want this.

“We don’t know how this was possible for our own kind, my dear. Now that we know it is…I…I…You should know that - oh! I had the same hope, Crowley. I think I have always hoped for something like this with you." His voice shook as he tried to hold on and remain sure and steady for his demon. "If you want this to be over…to…to end it, then I will support you." One more big steadying breath. "If you want to keep going, then I do as well. I will be right by your side no matter your choice." He let the tears come and pressed his head to Crowley's.

The trembling continued through Crowley's body as the nausea danced around his stomach. He was afraid to make eye contact and, frankly, felt too weak to move his head. But he wanted to look into those heavenly blues as he spoke his next sentence. So he did.

"I want this. I want to keep it." All of the energy and blood and magic within him flushed through his pores and he gripped onto the tray in Aziraphale's lap as if that would somehow keep him upright and conscious. He felt Aziraphale's strong arm around him and leaned into the angel, accepting a soft kiss on his lips.

"I do as well, my darling. I want this with you," Aziraphale whispered.

Crowley worked through a second slice of toast, begging his body to accept it.

“I’m so scared." He tapped the toast against the plate, watching little crumbs break away. "I’m scared this will be another thing taken away from me. We don’t even know what it is. What if…” his voice trailed as his mind imagined a dozen different scenarios that didn’t end in a … he was afraid to name what it was he had hoped for … a baby.

“We don’t know, Crowley. We’ll have to make do with what we do know. Our corporations behaved in the way that the humans do. We…we made love and certain biological functions occurred and….”

“I think I understand that part, Angel.” He managed a weak smile.

“My point is, Crowley, that so far this has had all the hallmarks of a regular conception.”

“Mind the whole demon and angel part.”

“I can feel it, Crowley. Can you? I feel the same essence I feel from you, from myself, from other….angels. Only extraordinarily tiny.”

“I’ve been too afraid to feel.” He was worried he wouldn’t be able to connect with the little life force or that he wouldn’t be able to sense if it was like him or like Aziraphale or…heartbreakingly…human. So, he blocked himself from being able to do so.

He tried a little more orange juice, feeling mildly better in the moment. "Nina and Maggie would be proud of us right now."

"For having a baby?"

Baby. He said the actual word. Crowley's heart clutched at it for a moment. He was so afraid to use that word - afraid that acknowledging it would mean someone could take it away from him.

The tears kept coming, but he managed a raspy laugh. "For actually talking to one another. Instead of dancing around how we truly feel. Instead of fighting and running." He took another sip of orange juice, realizing he had finished the whole glass, and hoped it would stay down. "We did good this time. Communicating."

"I do suppose you're right." He was happy to see that Crowley finished the orange juice. He ran a hand up the demon's thigh and immediately pulled back, fearing the act was too intimate, not wanting Crowley to think he was being suggestive.

Crowley noticed this and took his hand, placing it back on his thigh. "I won't break, you know." He took a final bite of his toast. Mouth full, he said, "Things have been surprising and scary and awkward, but we're still us." He squeezed Aziraphale's hand. "Everything will change, but we'll still be us at the center of it all."

He wiped his hands on a napkin and looked at Aziraphale. "Right, well, let's get a move on?"

Aziraphale had a novel's worth of words to say in that moment, but…"Ah. Your appointment, yes. We should leave now if we're to be on time."

Getting into the Bentley, Aziraphale noticed Nina looking through her window. He gave a soft wave. He'd have to thank her in person for sending the treats over the previous day. It seemed like an entire lifetime ago.

"Ready to go?" Crowley turned the ignition and carefully pulled away from the kerb. It was that moment that he realized the Bentley had driven more carefully overall in the last two weeks. He patted the steering wheel. "She knows. Always a good girl." The Bentley purred.

Aziraphale was glad the drive to the birth center was relatively normal with respectable speeds and a regard for traffic safety. "Are you feeling alright. Driving?" Aziraphale hadn't thought of what measures they would take should Crowley become ill while driving. He hoped motion sickness wasn't a symptom.

"So far, so good, Angel." Crowley was quiet most of the drive. He was focused inward, a thousand thoughts running through his mind. He didn't want to think about any of them. He was too afraid. Now that what he'd hoped for actually happened, he was gripped by fear of all that could go wrong at any moment, both physically and spiritually.

The birth center was a modest size. It looked quite like a quaint home on the outside. Inside, it was set up like a medical office with a waiting room and a receptionist, but it was decorated in an inviting style with natural elements and looming photographs of natural scenery throughout. There were plants scattered throughout, which pleased Crowley. They timidly walked through the waiting area to the reception desk. The birth center had just opened for the day and only one other patient was there, a woman with an obvious swell to the belly where she rested her hand. She looked at the two of them and gave a gentle smile.

Crowley's eyes focused on the roundness of her belly and thought of himself with a similar swell. For a fleeting moment he thought he felt excitement, but the fear was there to gobble it up as quickly as it had appeared.

Aziraphale approached the desk. "Good morning. We're here to see Anath…uh…Ms. Device."

"Oh yes!" The receptionist said cheerfully, "Mr. and Mr. Fell, is it?"

Mr. and Mr. Fell? Crowley felt dizzy and it wasn't from the pregnancy. She thought they were married. He snapped out of his trance as the receptionist beckoned them to follow her.

"Right this way. She is expecting you and she will be with you in just a moment."

"Thank you my dear," Aziraphale said with his usual blessing of a smile.

The room had a small exam table, two chairs and a stool and was done up to look very homey with luscious landscape photography covering one wall, a few plants - Crowley was once again pleased - and cheerful, natural lighting. There were pamphlets on the counter about things such as homebirth and breastfeeding, STI's, pelvic floor health, family planning, menopause, and more. A tiny little stand held a Pride flag and trans flag with more pamphlets about queer healthcare and…queer pregnancy. Crowley reached for that one, curious, but too nervous to read through it.

"Stuff this in your pocket," he whispered as if trying to hide a crime.

Aziraphale studied the front of the pamphlet. "Crowley, these are for patients to take. It's not stealing." Queer pregnancy, huh. He guessed they were rather queer in many ways.

"We don't know if we're patients. She may not want to talk to us about this. It's scary for us, it could be terrifying for her. Last time she dealt with us and with a child we were trying to stop the end of the world. She might not - " he was interrupted by a knock on the door and Anathema's soft voice.

"Okay to come in?" she asked from the other side of the door. After an affirmative answer from Aziraphale, she opened the door and greeted them with a big smile. "I am so happy to see you two!" She held her arms out to Aziraphale for a hug.

"Thank you for seeing us on such short notice, my dear girl," Aziraphale said as he accepted her hug.

"It's no problem at all. I could sense it was urgent. " She turned to Crowley - she had hoped for a hug, but he seemed obviously nervous so she settled for a small smile instead. "I figured something must be up for you two to want me here. Would you like to take a seat?" She could already sense a difference in Crowley.

Crowley and Aziraphale both stuttered and looked between the exam table and the two seats. Crowley was unsure where to go and he and the angel both moved at the same time, bumping into each other and just looking utterly confused.

Anathema smiled warmly and indicated to the two chairs, “Why don’t you both take a chair?”

Aziraphale sank down, hands folded in his lap and back rigid, while Crowley nervously perched on the edge of the chair and began bouncing one leg.

Anathema sat on her stool and rolled it closer to them. “How can I help you?”

She looked back and forth between the two of them. She was unsure if Crowley would be comfortable enough to answer her. She wanted so badly to reach out and take his hands, to attempt to soothe him, but she refrained. The open, calmer fellow she had a moment with in his garden a few weeks ago wasn’t presented by Crowley here. She had her own nerves to deal with. She was a midwife in her birth and reproductive center and Aziraphale had specifically wanted to meet her here. She already sensed the issue at hand, but she had no idea how things would unfold.

“Things are,” Aziraphale began twisting his fingers and looking to Crowley for permission to keep speaking. Crowley nodded at him. He blew a breath out. “Things are rather delicate between us, it seems.” Another big breath as he nervously fidgeted with his cufflink. “It appears…now I didn’t know this myself…and neither did Crowley…that when beings of our specific celestial make-up…uh….”

Crowley and Anathema both watched the fidgeting angel as he tried to get his words out. It was endearing, if not humorous, but both were too nervous - for their own separate reasons - to indulge in any light-hearted reactions just yet.

Aziraphale continued, a pink flush rising in his cheeks, “Ah…well…uh it seems that our moments of…amourous congress - “

That was Crowley’s breaking point. “I’m pregnant,” he blurted. “At least I think I am. Well…well,” his tongue rolled over syllables for a moment, “that’s what the sticks I peed on said and the insert said false positives are rare and also I puked a lot and I’m tired and…oh! Tits! Right, so my tits hurt.” It was his turn to ramble.

Anathema made eye contact - glasses contact, really - with Crowley and took an exaggerated breath, indicating that he should follow her.

Both he and Aziraphale followed her lead, inhaling through the nose and exhaling through the mouth several times until Crowley felt - well, he didn’t feel calmer, but he was able to catch himself and slow the rambling.

“Right. We don’t know what to do. Or how pregnant I am. Well, I guess I know that part. Or what I am pregnant with.” He took another one of those deep breaths. "I do know now that I want to…I want to keep it."

He and Aziraphale exchanged a glance, finding reassurance in one another's eyes for a moment.

Anathema considered everything he had just said. It was as she expected, but hearing the words come from his mouth made quite an impact and she felt as if she could just fall off her seat. She had been present with them at Armageddidn’t and had seen what Crowley could do. She saw the angel with the flaming sword. She felt their power that day. She had touched Crowley’s scales in his garden just a few weeks ago. Well, why not add a pregnancy to the strange and unusual happenings with Crowley and Aziraphale?

She looked at Crowley. “Crowley, do you have an idea when this happened? How far along you might be? Or do you remember the date of your last period?” She would treat him as she would any other patient.

“That was decades ago. Decades. I haven’t had a period this go around.” he explained, unhelpfully.

“This go around?” She was confused.

“We…uh…” He looked at Aziraphale, who was still blushing. “We can switch the bits,” he pointed to between his legs. “Guess which one I went with this time? Turns out it is fully functional. I think." He hoped.

"That is why we called you, my dear. This is not anything that happens for our kind. I couldn’t think of anyone else who may be able to help us.”

Anathema felt a swell of pride at his last sentence. “I will do everything I can to help you both. Crowley, do you have an idea of when you became pregnant?”

He searched the air with his eyes. “I first slipped back into this ol’ queen,” he pointed between his legs again, “just about 2 weeks ago and I think it happened then. I'm certain, I mean.”

Ever accurate, Aziraphale piped up. “Truth be told, it could have happened any number of times since that night as we...uh…well….often…unprotected…and…” his voice became slightly higher with each word. He regained composure for a moment. “I do believe it happened that night 2 weeks ago, as he said.” Was it getting hot in there? He dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief.

Crowley couldn't help but let a small smile break. “This might sound odd, but I am pretty sure I know exactly when conception happened the next day. And that was about two weeks ago.”

“I felt that as well,” Aziraphale said helpfully. "A tiny miracle."

“It’s not odd at all, actually,” Anathema reassured them. “In fact, many parent’s report that they intuitively felt the moment conception occurred. Many also physically feel implantation.”

“I know I definitely felt that,” Crowley said. He was feeling a little more at ease with her.

Aziraphale looked at him. “You did?”

“Yeah. A little more than a week later. At the cottage. I felt a little pulling twinge thingie way down there when I woke. Didn't think it was anything at the time.”

“This is great information for me, you two. Very helpful. You are still very early. You mentioned vomiting and a sore chest. What other symptoms have you noticed?”

He stared at a spider plant that was hanging by the window and noticed a small white bud developing at the end of a long stem. The very beginning of what would eventually become a plantlet - a baby spider plant. He smiled and took a deep breath. “Well, the sore tits for starters. I’m very hungry, which is not my thing. I’ve been sleeping more, which is my thing. I’m exhausted when I wake up. I’m exhausted all day. Very thirsty. I've puked a lot over the last two days and can barely eat. Oh, and I terrified a clerk in a rage over a plant, but now I have four new baby plants. I think that was related.” He looked at the ceiling. “Uhh…oh, all I want to do is fuck, but I’m too sick and too tired for it. Anything else, Angel?”

Aziraphale stared with his mouth agape and wide eyes at the indelicacy of his last listed symptom. “There have been plenty of tears. Crowley is a moody fellow, but this has been very different. He…he voids a lot.”

“Void? Where is the void?” Crowley knit his brows together in confusion.

“He means pee, Crowley.” Anathema offered.

“Oh right. Yeah, remembered how to do that one recently. Do it a lot these days. I thought it was all PMS. Bugger me, huh?"

Anathema took it all in. "Early pregnancy symptoms and PMS symptoms are nearly identical. Do your…do your bodies tend to function normally? I mean, like people? Like humans?"

“They can. They perform all the same functions and use all the same parts if we choose. With the exception of pregnancy. Both of us would know if that has ever happened and it is widely known to be impossible.” Aziraphale twisted his ring.

“There are many legends of this exact thing, though…” Anathema began.

“Legends only,” Crowley said confidently. “His lot operates differently. Some of my lot use sex often in their work.” He lowered his voice. “I didn’t.” He caught Aziraphale’s eyes. “But the pregnancy thing is not a thing. Not between our kind.”

“Oh.” She took a big breath. “So, we have some things that we know and many, many more that we don’t know. We can talk about the various tests and their particular details in a moment, but everything you have told me indicates that you’re pregnant, Crowley.” She sighed. “I can feel it, too.”

“You can?” Crowley perked up. He had still blocked himself from being connected with any life force within him. “What do you feel?”

“The same thing I feel with any pregnant person. There is a new and different energy. Yours feels a little different. It’s familiar … in a sense that the reads I get off of you and Mr. Fell are very similar. You two feel different than humans.”

Hope. Crowley felt hope. It lasted two whole seconds before fear was there, ready to consume it. “Aziraphale can feel it, too. What…what can we do to check if this is something…real?” Alive. A baby. Safe. Not damned. He couldn’t say those words.

"Wait - " Crowley remembered something. "I had spotting."

Anathema raised her brows. "When was that?"

"The same day with the implantation feeling. Some pink when I wiped. Very tiny bit. Only that one time." He was trying to convince himself that was okay.

Aziraphale looked at him, "You never told me that."

Crowley shrugged. "Didn't think anything of it. Thought it was from the non-stop sex." He smirked. There he was, if just for a moment.

Aziraphale blushed again. He reached out and took Crowley's hand. Crowley looked at him and gave him a sweet smile, squeezing his hand.

"That could have been implantation bleeding, which is, again, very common. She crossed her knees, resting her folded hands atop them. "It sounds like you're pretty confident that this happened two weeks ago. Human medicine is a little funny in that they date pregnancies by the date of your last period rather than conception. It's a date people tend to remember more easily than conception." She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "We call it 'gestational age.' Now, two weeks would be fetal age. For all of our records we use gestational age, which means you are 4 weeks pregnant. Does that make sense?"

"Yes." The angel and demon said in unison.

"So much of this…well, back when I was a midwife, there was so much reliance on intuition, instinct, and smaller physical signs." He blew air against his lips. "Bloody good that intuition did for me."

"Times have changed. A lot has changed in the birth world. Not always for the better. In my birth center, we approach it very holistically. We are always at the ready with top notch medical intervention if needed, but we try to stick with trusting the body and the baby in cases of low risk pregnancies."

Crowley's skin prickled. "How would I know if I was low risk?" He didn't want to ask. "Or high risk?"

"That remains to be seen, honestly. You're still very early. So far, everything you told me is extremely normal for this point in pregnancy." Her eyes softened. "I would prefer to focus on that, with the knowledge that I am very prepared should you need any extra care." A smirk drew across her face. "Although, you are way beyond advanced maternal age."

Crowley chuckled softly. Aziraphale brightened at the sight and sound of his demon having a moment of levity.

"What comes next?"

"Well, we can do blood work to confirm the pregnancy. We have urine tests, too, but blood work would give us a baseline of your hCG levels, which help us determine how the pregnancy is progressing this early." She paused. "Do you have…blood"

"We do," Aziraphale answered for Crowley.

"We can take blood today and you can come back in 72 hours for another test. Ideally, we want to see your hCG levels rise and double consistently over 48 to 72 hours for a few runs of that test. We don't have to do that, though. Everything is your choice, Crowley. I will never expect you to do anything you are not comfortable with."

Crowley kept his eyes on Aziraphale and said, "I want to do the blood test." He wanted anything, anything at all that would tell him things are okay. "What else can we do today? I…I want to know things are okay."

Anathema's heart broke just a little bit. She didn't know his full story, not even a fraction of it, but she easily recognized his anxiety and could tell he was someone who likely had a lot of trauma in the past. She was very used to patients who were desperate for reassurance.

"There's not much this early on, but that will change rapidly. I can give you a small exam, palpate your low abdomen. Check your vitals so we have a nice baseline. We can talk about ultrasound and Doppler in a few weeks."

"Right. We can do the blood test and you can have a little palpy-tate and do my vitals. If I have any. Do I…do I lie down?"

Anathema stood and patted the exam table. "If you want to have a little hop onto this…you can sit for your blood test unless you are prone to fainting."

"Never did a proper blood test." Had he done an improper one? "Can Aziraphale sit with me?"

Aziraphale felt a warm tingle. He liked being a needed comfort and protector.

"Oh…absolutely. Of course." She opened a drawer at the counter and took out a couple of vials and a weird looking cap thing with a needle attached to it. She noticed Crowley eyeing everything. "It's a vacutainer. It makes it easier to draw multiple vials and prevents breakdown of the cells."

"Riiiiiggghhhhtttt. You're taking multiple tubes?" He scooted over as Aziraphale sat next to him, resting his hand softly on the demon's low back.

"That was going to be my next question to you. We're going to run the hCG for sure. I can also have them run some baseline tests just to get an idea of what's…..normal for you."

"Got it. Stab away, book girl." He was putting on a very brave face. In reality, his nerves were vibrating and he was so scared. He felt the pinch of the needle, which wasn't bad at all. He's had worse.

Anathema checked his temperature and his heart along with his blood pressure. All gave the appearance of being normal. "Are you okay to lie down so I can feel around your belly?"

Aziraphale stood from the table. "I'm just going to step out of the way." He moved to sit back in the seat.

Crowley laid down and then propped himself up on his elbows. "Where do you have to touch me?"

"I'm going to get a general sense of how everything feels, your abdominal organs and your pelvis. So, here to here." She traced the area in an invisible line. "I would ask you to unbutton your jeans just so I can feel your pelvic area accurately. On top. Remember, you are not required to do this at all. We will only work together and within your comfort level." Her voice was calm and comforting.

Crowley thought for a moment. It had taken him so long to get used to being touched by Aziraphale and that was something he wanted for thousands of years. He wasn't sure about someone getting so close to his bits. "Can…can I have Aziraphale stand here? At my head."

"Of course."

Aziraphale moved to stand at the head of the table, next to Crowley. He ran his hand through the demon's soft hair.

"Would you like to lift your shirt up for me? You can keep your pants buttoned for the moment."

"Crowley slowly untucked his shirt and pulled it up to the bottom of his ribs. "This good?"

"Perfect, Crowley." She placed her hand on his. "I am going to feel along your abdomen." Gently, she placed one hand and then the other on his belly, pressing in and concentrating. "Everything is good here. Normal." She kept her hand on his belly, letting the demon get used to it. "Is it okay if I check lower now?"

Crowley's hands shook as he reached down to unfasten his snake belt and his trousers. "Is…is this enough?" He looked down and swallowed. He could see a peek of his deep auburn hairs poking through the top of his underpants.

"That is perfect." Anathema soothed. She placed her hands down. "Is this okay?"

Crowley nodded. As she felt around, Crowley focused on Aziraphale, who was now rubbing his shoulder. The angel's eyes were a cerulean mix of pure love and comfort. It was over as quick as it began.

"All good! There's not much to feel this early as your uterus is still quite far down, but everything feels normal."

Crowley quickly fastened his trousers and Aziraphale helped him sit up. Aziraphale noticed how Crowley's fingers lingered just below his belt.

As the appointment rounded to a close, they discussed management of morning sickness, taking prenatal vitamins, what the next few appointments would look like, and how to access his chart on their online patient portal. The latter leaving Aziraphale thoroughly confused.

Crowley announced in his usually delicate way the he needed the toilet. While he was gone, Anathema put her arm around Aziraphale. "How are you handling all of this?"

Aziraphale managed a small smile and sighed. "I'm overwhelmed. Everything changed in the last two days and I'm….I'm scared for him - for us - and I just want to be there for him, to protect him." He miracled tears away. He lowered his voice, "I can't begin to have you understand the hell…the literal Hell…he has been through, my dear. He -" Aziraphale was interrupted by Crowley coming back in the room.

"Good until next time?" He asked, looking at Aziraphale.

"You guys are good to go. I'll have the results of that hCG later today and I'll see you back in 72 hours to draw a new one." She hesitated before looking at them both. "Is it too forward for me to offer you two a congratulations?"

Aziraphale and Crowley looked at one another. Crowley could only manage to shrug and open his mouth without words. Aziraphale kept his focus on the demon and said, "I do suppose that may be in order."

"Congratulations," she said with a big smile and held out her arms in offering to both of them. Aziraphale accepted her hug as usual. Crowley squeezed in with him, timidly wrapping his arm around hers. "Call me at any time, day or night, if you need me. For anything at all. Don't be shy. We're friends."

They walked through the waiting room on their way out. Crowley noticed a couple huddled together, nervous, who looked very much like them. He nodded his head at them and gave a slight smile.

“That went well, all things considered," Aziraphale said with a little more cheer in his voice.

“Yeah,” Crowley breathed out as he pulled away from the carpark. He pressed his lips together and focused on the road, the Bentley slow and steady. A few miles down the road, he pulled over next to a grove of trees.

“Everything alright?” He noticed Crowley’s lip begin to quiver. “Oh dear.” He slid closer to the demon to take him into his arms.

Crowley hunched over, sobbing, unable to catch his breath.

Aziraphale held him in a tight embrace and rubbed his hands up and down his shaking back. "Crowley, Crowley, my dear. I'm here, Crowley." He kissed the side of his head. "I'm right here."

Crowley gulped in air. "I'm terrified, Aziraphale." He threw his glasses off and rubbed at his eyes. "This is real. You sense it. She senses it. The symptoms are real. All of this is actually real. I'm actually pregnant."

"You are," whispered Aziraphale. "It's been a mighty miracle indeed." He continued kissing Crowley's head. "You did so well at your appointment today."

"I faked it," he stopped to take a large breath. "I just masked my feelings so I could get through it. I didn't want to seem so scared."

Tears built up in Aziraphale's eyes. "My darling Crowley, you don't have to pretend." He held his face in both of his hands and stroked his cheeks with his thumbs. His citrine irises were still fully blown out. "I love you and I don't want you to feel like you have to behave in one certain way. You're allowed to be scared."

"I don't know how to act or think or feel. The fear is overwhelming me. It won't let me feel anything good." His cries were broken. "I'm selfish. I didn't ask you if you wanted this. How fucked up is that? I actually took the choice away from you. I've probably damned a..a…," he still couldn't say the word. His hand was below his belt, cupped over himself.

Aziraphale considered all that he said. He noticed the way Crowley's hand had been touching the area where their miracle lay in wait.

"Crowley, you are not selfish. It's not fucked up and you certainly didn't take a choice from me. I wanted this. I want this." He wanted so badly to put his hand over Crowley's, but he held back. Instead, he pressed his forehead to the demon's as if he could will his thoughts into him. "I'm willing to bet that fear is a very normal part of this process. You're not damning anybody. Certainly not our - " he kissed his cheek.

Crowley wiped his eyes and sniffed, looking up at the ceiling of the Bentley, staring at nothing. "This fear. I've had a lot of it in my life, but there is no fear like I am experiencing now. Nothing like it, not even my….my…" he looked down at his hand. "Everything needs to be okay, Aziraphale. I don't know what I'd do if it wasn't."

Aziraphale hugged him, cradling the back of Crowley's head in his hand. "My love. This is us together and we are going to work through every feeling, every challenge, and - I believe - every joy together." He rocked Crowley for a few moments, feeling some of the tension releasing from the muscles in his back. "These are very good things to bring up to Anathema. I'm certain that she has had her fair share of nervous - " he wanted to say 'parents' - "people in her office." He pulled away slightly to look at his face, worn with worry and incredibly tear-streaked. He kissed the demon's salty eyelids and cheeks. He looked exhausted. Aziraphale thought he was probably pretty hungry. "Why don't we grab a bit of lunch? She did say eating several small meals a day would be best."

Crowley wasn't sure if he could eat. He was starving, yes, but the crying made him extra nauseous. He had to pee, however, and didn't want to drive all the way back to SoHo with a full bladder. "Yeah. Alright. I think there is a café just a moment from here. I'll try my best to eat something that isn't toast." He tried to force a week smile. He longed to feel elated.

"Excellent, my dear boy." He slid back on the seat.

Crowley started the ignition and sighed, keeping his hands in his lap and the car in park.

"Thank God for you. Truly."

Aziraphale's heart leapt. Such an unusual thing for Crowley to say, but he'll take it and not fuss at him about it. He looked over at his love. He really was glowing under all of that exhaustion and worry. He was beautiful as he always has been, just a bit enhanced now.

Crowley leaned in and pulled him closer, pressing their mouths together for a long, slow kiss. He needed that. So much. "I love you, Angel." He hit the gas and off they went.

Seated at the café, Crowley leaned toward Aziraphale. "Do I use the ladies or the gents?" He really had to pee.

"Oh, uh…whatever you feel most resonates for you right now." Aziraphale was mighty helpful.

"That's both. And neither." He huffed. "Gonna bloody piss myself. Be right back." He headed to the bathrooms and circled right back. "You can't see it from here, but there is a family lavatory. What do you suppose that means? We both go? As a family? "

"That's usually where parents take their children. It's more private. Just go, dear, before we need a mop."

Crowley chose the family loo, grateful for a pee in private.

They ate their lunch quietly, making small talk about the cottage and the plans for the next trip up there. They took a break from pregnancy talk during their meal. Crowley ate slowly. He boxed half his meal for home, knowing he'd probably just give it to Aziraphale.

The drive home was peaceful. Aziraphale ran his fingers up and down Crowley's thigh. His mind wandered. He wondered if they'd be able to enjoy this time, relish in it, or if they would both be plagued with fear.

Crowley parked at the kerb by the bookshop and Aziraphale got out, making his way toward the door. "Wait!" Crowley called after him. "Can we walk to the chemist?" He was simultaneously exhausted and in need of several naps and restless with pent up energy from his nerves.

"Oh. Of course. What do you need?"

"Those prenatal thingies. The vitamins Anathema wants me to take." He wanted to do everything the right way - he decided he would follow Anathema’s guidelines. Crowley had been a midwife several times over in ancient times and occasionally in not-so-ancient times, but he felt comforted by her guidance and was happy to be under her care despite his fears.

The door bells jingled and the clerk greeted them. She watched as they rounded the aisle containing the vitamins and laughed to herself. This funny and kind fussbudget of a man has been here in the last week for pads then pregnancy tests and condoms and now they are looking over prenatal vitamins. She walked down the aisle to see if she could help them.

“There are so many to choose from.” Crowley grumbled, holding two large bottles of different brands in his hands.

“Your boyfriend likes to buy one of everything,” she said in a conspiratorial tone, “but I may be able to answer any questions you may have so you can make your choice here and save yourself from carrying home six bags.”

Aziraphale looked all around in the air and sniffed.

Crowley elbowed him and whispered “boyfriend.” He winked, heart happy that Aziraphale had obviously used that word on his previous trips.

Crowley eyed the clerk. “Pretend we are buying these for a friend,” oh, Crowley, “and that friend happened to be pregnant….which ones do you recommend?”

“Well, we have these,” she said, holding up a large bottle. “They are highly rated, organic, and they are third-party tested for lead and other heavy metals, which is a problem with some vitamins. Uh…well, they are also in pill form. Prenatal vitamins tend to be fairly large, so be sure you are comfortable with swallowing something large - “

“Oh,” Crowley interrupted, “I most certainly am adept at that.” He realized he just outed himself as the one needing the vitamins. As if the clerk didn't know.

Aziraphale made a weird, high-pitched hiccup noise and pretended to be carefully examining vitamin bottles. He was certainly glad that Crowley was in a lighter spirit here, but rather embarrassed at his comment. A small part of Aziraphale admitted that he was also rather flattered.

The chemist, however, didn’t miss a beat. "And these," she picked up another bottle, "are made by the same company, but they are chewable gummies. Do note, there are less in this bottle than with regular vitamin tablets. These may be easier to take and I have heard the taste isn't too terrible." She continued to explain the other vitamin offerings.

Crowley held up the first bottle she spoke about. "Think I'll do these orgasmic ones that go down the throat."

"Organic, Crowley. They're organic." Aziraphale rolled his eyes.

"Same thing, really," Crowley said confidently.

While ringing them up, the clerk noted in a rather forward manner that it had been quite a whirlwind. "Why, in your last visits you were here for pads, pregnancy tests and condoms, and now prenatal vitamins. What a journey."

"Indeed it is," Aziraphale whispered. He watched Crowley grab a few Cadbury bars and throw them on the counter.

The clerk helpfully explained that taking prenatal vitamins at night may be better as they can make you nauseous when taken in the morning and any sickness could result in them being tossed up. "You're just puking money away at that point."

They walked hand in hand back to the bookshop. Aziraphale miracled Crowley's boxed leftovers into the fridge once the walked past the Bentley. He knew he'd be the one eating them later.

Crowley trudged up the steps clutching his bag of vitamins and chocolate. Upstairs, he pulled his blazer off and tossed it and the bag at an armchair in the parlour before plopping himself on the sofa and kicking his boots off. "I'm wiped." He groaned. "And I just remembered I have to pee." He whined. "Can you just miracle a toilet over here?"

Aziraphale smiled and said, "Or I could help you over to the proper toilet."

"Fiiiiiiiiiine," once again he was whining. After a pee, he walked back to the sofa and dramatically plopped down again, feeling for the remote.

Aziraphale sat closely next to him, rubbing his back.

"Ah, lower. It feels so tense down low. So achy." He leaned into Aziraphale's massage. "Oh that feels so good. I don't know what it's going to feel like when I am giant and round and have all that weight pulling on my back when it already hurts so much now even though everything is tiny." His words hit him as he said them. He envisioned himself plump with child, full and round. Of course it brought a tear to his eye. It was an lovely vision. And one quickly eaten by fear.

Aziraphale envisioned the same thing, thinking how stunning Crowley would be with a thick, round belly carrying his….his child. His heart fluttered at the thought. Oh please, he prayed inwardly.

Crowley needed to drown out the fear with some nonsense TV. Maybe with a little help from an angel, he found Monty Python's Flying Circus marathon on some heavenly channel. He barely made it through one sketch - his favorite Ministry of Silly Walks - before he was quietly snoring, head bobbing.

Aziraphale stared at him for a moment. He couldn't believe that the gorgeous creature before him, with his chin dipping and then jerking back up as he dozed off and on, his love of his entire lifetime was hard at work creating something glorious. The idea of such a miraculous process happening within Crowley took his breath and - of course - pushed tears out of his eyes.

He stood up and readjusted Crowley on the sofa so that he was laying down, long legs bent to accommodate his height on the sofa. He gently placed the plush tartan blanket over him and kissed his cheek. He took a seat in the armchair and miracled a book into his hands, ever watchful of his demon. On guard.

As the afternoon crept towards supper time, Crowley's phone rang and he woke with a jerk. He fumbled around his body looking for it and then noticed Aziraphale picking up his blazer.

"Your pocket is vibrating."

It was Anathema. "You answer it, please." Crowley's stomach felt hot and tight.

Aziraphale answered and heard Anathema's friendly voice in response.

"I have your bloodwork results from today. Are you ready?" Her voice had the slightest hint of cheerfulness.

Crowley began to tremble uncontrollably, taking quick shallow breaths. He felt flushed and sweaty and he fought the urge to vomit right then and there.

"Can you hold a moment?" Aziraphale asked. "Crowley, what can I do to help?" He sat down next to his demon, putting his free hand across very tense, shaking shoulders.

"Make it okay." He began to rock.

"Anathema, we have a very nervous fellow here. He needs a moment to let his nerves settle."

"No worries. Let me know if helps to know that it's good news."

"Oh!" He exclaimed. "Oh, it certainly does." He pulled the phone away from his ear for a moment. "She says it's good news."

Crowley grabbed Aziraphale's hand, "Is she sure? Put her on speaker."

"I'm going to put you on the speaker phone, my dear." He held the phone up and stared at it with his finger hovering over the screen.

Crowley reached up and hit the speaker button. "That one." He leaned his head on Aziraphale's shoulder. "Let's hear it." Despite the assurance of good news, he was still shaking.

"Here we go. So, the typical hCG range for 4 weeks - remember that is gestational age - is 5 to 426. And Crowley, you are right at 400." One could tell she was smiling as she delivered the news. "And the rest of your blood work was perfect."

Crowley bounced his leg and Aziraphale rubbed his back. "So…you mean…I'm actually pregnant?"

"You are actually pregnant, Crowley."

Aziraphale smiled broadly. "Oh, that is most welcome news, my dear. Thank you so much." He looked at Crowley, still trembling and rocking. "We next see you in a few days for the same test, correct?"

"That's right. We'll do the same test to see those numbers doubled."

Crowley's mouth hung open. "I…I bought orgasmic prenatals."

"Oh…I…um…"

"Organic, dear. He means organic." He raised his eyebrows at Crowley. "Do be prepared with this one as a patient, Anathema. He may be a nervous fellow, but he's often cheeky."

Anathema giggled on the other end. "I will see you guys in a couple of days. Don't hesitate to call me for anything at all." She paused. "And again, congratulations to you both."

"Thank you, kindly." Aziraphale stared at the phone for a minute. "These mobiles and their new fangled buttons. Where do I hang up?"

"She already hung up, Angel. You don't have to do anything." Amused, Crowley took the phone from Aziraphale and placed it on the end table. He looked into eyes the color of a deep and calm blue ocean. "I'm actually pregnant, Angel."

His mouth began to tremble as much as the rest of his body. He opened his arms and invited Aziraphale in for a hug, tears beginning to streak both of their eyes. Buried in the angel's neck, Crowley took a big breath and inhaled the comforting scent of his lover. "I'm actually pregnant." He repeated it a few times, clutching tightly to Aziraphale.

"You most certainly are, my dear." He couldn't say anything else without his words getting choked in his throat, so he opted to kiss the demon's temple instead.

Crowley pulled back slightly to look at him. They had been through highs and lows no other creature on Earth or in Heaven and Hell could fathom. They had done most of it together. He's expressed his love for Aziraphale in so many different ways since their days in Heaven. This, he thought, was his greatest expression of love for the angel…of their love together. He combed his fingers through Aziraphale's hair and then brought the angel's face close to his own to kiss him.

A growl interrupted them. Crowley's stomach. They both laughed as Crowley blushed. "I don't think I've ever heard that noise come out of my body."

"I think some nice supper would be good for you, dear." He stood up and offered a hand to the demon, pulling him up with a grunt. After another kiss they headed to the kitchen.

After dinner, Crowley took his prenatal vitamin. It didn't make him feel great, that's for sure. He fell asleep early, waking around midnight to use the bathroom. A few moments later, he was calling for Aziraphale.

"Angel!! Come here, please!!"

Aziraphale jumped out of the bed with a quickness, leaving his book to fall to the floor. "Crowley!" He ran into the bathroom to find the demon standing next to the toilet.

"Something is wrong with my pee! Look!"

Aziraphale's heart sunk. He craned his neck to look into the toilet, expecting the worst - blood. He gasped at what he saw. Everything was neon yellow. "I've never seen that before."

"Is it bad? Am I dying? Aziraphale -"

"Perhaps we should call Anathema," he suggested.

"It's late. I know she said call anytime, but…" Crowley's heart was racing. He knew it. He just knew it. He was damned.

"She did say that we can call anytime. Or…or what about the World Wide Internet. Inside your phone? Perhaps that can be of some use here."

"The Internet will say I have cancer. Can you bring me my phone?"

Aziraphale ran to grab the phone, muttering a prayer under his breath. "Please let him be alright. Please."

Crowley googled "pregnant yellow pee," which did not yield helpful results. "It doesn't say anything about neon pee." So he googled "pregnant neon yellow pee."

"Oh!" He laughed.

Aziraphale was surprised. "Wh - what's so funny?"

"It's the orgasmic vitamins," he smirked. "Apparently, vitamins turn your pee colors." He held the phone out to Aziraphale to read it. Relief washed over his entire body.

Chapter Text

The next two days were nearly identical. Crowley spent a lot of time looking into the toilet, especially in the morning. They bathed together. Aziraphale read books. Crowley watched TV and took naps. There were tears. Crowley's cravings were mild, but when they presented they were strong. He devoured plates full of corn, his newest obsession. They cuddled on the couch in the evenings after supper, watching a movie or just talking. Both were too nervous to talk about the pregnancy in great detail or in terms of the future. Fear had a very firm grip on Crowley and he was still too afraid to say certain words or relax into the joy of this period because of the fear. They lay together at night, wrapped in each other's arms, each wanting to do so much more, but afraid to make the moves.

On the morning of the third day, they dressed and got ready to go to the birth center. Crowley's morning sickness had been especially bad and he couldn't manage much more than a few bites of one slice of toast. Aziraphale offered to drive, but Crowley declined. He drove slow and steady, pulling over once because he thought his sad bits of toast were about to reappear.

At the Birth Center, Anathema drew Crowley's blood and told him to expect a call that evening.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Always, Crowley." She leaned against the counter.

"Is it…normal for pregnant people to be constantly afraid that something bad will happen? Because I can't relax or enjoy any of it. And I wanted this."

Anathema felt her heart surge for Crowley. "It happens a lot, yeah. I think most parents carry that fear, but," she spoke softly, "parents who have gone through a lot of trauma tend to have trouble connecting with their baby and can also experience extreme anxiety. PTSD is a very real thing and people who have it can find themselves more likely to be triggered during pregnancy." She wanted to hug him so bad. The cranky demon guy she had grown to be so fond of had looked so frightened these past two appointments. "There are also hormones at play that will challenge your emotions. All of this is a perfect storm that can be triggering."

"I…am afraid to connect with the…with the…I am afraid if I acknowledge it, it'll be taken away from me." He looked at his hands. "That's happened to me a lot. And then I'm afraid that having all of this fear will do damage to…to…this pregnancy." He focused on the spider plant in the window. The small white bud from the other day was now a small little bloom. He smiled.

Aziraphale was holding his hand. He lightly circled his thumb around the top of Crowley's hand. "I haven't been much comfort to him, I'm afraid."

Crowley looked incredulous. "Wot?" He took off his glasses to look at him. "You are the very definition of comfort, Angel. Y-you take care of me. Keep me fed. Watch me puke and rub my back. You listen to all of my crying and whining. You bought me a million packs of pads and things. You've been a comfort since the beginning…the beginning beginning. I know I can always count on you."

Anathema felt honored to witness their moment.

"Aziraphale, of all the journeys and adventures you two have had, fatherhood is going to be something new entirely - and likely the most rewarding. It's normal to want to be able to fix things and to feel like you're failing when your partner is in distress. I've never seen anything like the bond between you two - and I mean that regardless of the supernatural stuff." She rested her hand on Aziraphale's shoulder.

"This is a rather big learning experience for all of us, isn't it?" He was buzzing at the word "fatherhood." He was going to be a father, wasn't he? He puffed his chest up.

"Indeed it is," Anathema agreed.

Crowley opened his mouth to speak. He'll probably say something emotional and eloquent to match the energy of this moment.

"Can we have sex?" He blurted.

"Oh!" Anathema wasn't expecting that.

"Crowley!" Aziraphale should have expected it.

"Not...I didn't…no…not you...I mean, I don't mean, 'not you' in a bad way…you're lovely…I just…," there he goes. He put his glasses back on.

Aziraphale was blushing.

Anathema pulled out her trick from the other day, inhaling and exhaling, which Crowley and Aziraphale followed.

"Is it safe? To engage in … intercourse?" Aziraphale asked. "I don't want to hurt him…or anyone." He blushed and fiddled with his pocket watch.

"Right, he's hung like a -" Crowley Crowley'd.

"CROWLEY," Aziraphale and Anathema said in unison.

"Anyway," Anathema began with a deep breath, "yes, it is safe to have sex. It's important to stay aware of your comfort level and your limits and to communicate effectively with one another, but sex is safe and healthy for you two."

"We're rather good at that." Aziraphale realized what that sounded like. "Er…I mean we're good at the awareness and communication part." You are? Well, that didn't sound right either. "Uh…uh…we're good at the sex, too…uh." He found Crowley's face with it's amused smirk. He was aware of the slight trembling of Anathema's shoulders as she fought to contain a laugh from escaping. "Very well, deep breaths." He inhaled deeply.

They brought their appointment to a close with plans to come back in another 3 days for another test.

During the drive home, Aziraphale suggested they head to the cottage for the next two days. "It might do us some good to enjoy fresh air and the beauty of the Downs. No pressure to get work done. Just relaxation. It's going to be rather chilly and the fireplace would be just lovely."

"Might be nice. I like relaxing. And fire. Yeah, let's do it." Crowley could visit his plants and may even do some work to prep the garden for winter. Or he might just nap.

Once at the bookshop, Aziraphale made a light early lunch, which Crowley was able to keep down. Aziraphale moved through the bookshop, selecting titles he'd like to find in the library at the cottage. Crowley watched him from the desk, eating a plate full of corn and nodding off. They packed some snacks for the road and Crowley's prenatal vitamins.

The ride to the cottage was mostly smooth and uneventful until it wasn't. When they were about 20 minutes away, Crowley quickly swerved off the side of the road to dash out of the Bentley and retch behind a tree. "I will never eat corn again," he declared as he slid back into the driver's seat. His stomach twisted and turned along with the road during the rest of the drive.

Once they arrived, he wanted to drop face down into the sofa, but he rushed to his plant room instead. “There they are! Did you miss me? I hope you behaved while I was gone.” He inspected each plant and all were declared “well-behaved.” His plants were especially lively. Leaves and stems shook with excitement. Now Crowley could go and plop face down in the parlour. “Ow, bloody tits,” he said, facing into a sofa cushion.

Aziraphale checked on his library, happy to see the titles he selected back at the bookshop were now settled into their shelves in the cottage. He walked into the parlour to find his demon face down and snoring. He moved to put the blanket on him, but Crowley turned over.

“Morning,” he yawned and stretched, limbs draping in 4 different directions.

“It’s the same day, my dear boy. You’ve only been asleep for fifteen minutes at the most.” He sat on the edge of the sofa. “I rather thought we could have an early supper. Is there anything you’d prefer to eat?” He danced his fingers along the demon’s arm.

Crowley considered for a moment. “The chicken noodle soup you make always hits the spot.”

“Ah, perfect choice. I’ll get right on it.” He patted Crowley’s slinky hip as he got up. “Are you going to have a little snooze here?”

Crowley sat up. “Think I’ll head out before the sun goes down. Just gonna check on things.”

He remained on the sofa for a few minutes, willing the energy to get up to move into his legs. On his way through the house, he passed by the nursery room and poked his head in. The room was awash in the light from the setting sun. Crowley smiled. He knew why those pangs of emptiness had existed in the first place and why they were no longer bothering him. With that, he made his way out to the garden.

In the kitchen, Aziraphale miracled some necessary ingredients and got to work on making Crowley’s request. He could see the demon snaking through the gardens, arms behind his back as he inspected everything out there. It was rather chilly and Crowley had thrown a long black overcoat on top of his blazer. Aziraphale thought of how handsome Crowley looked. He was happy to see him in his element outdoors.

“Please, let everything be okay. Please keep him…both of them…safe,” He prayed. “Please let Crowley enjoy this.” He was desperate to see Crowley happy about his pregnancy and willing to connect with that tiny little force within him.

Outside, Crowley sat on a bench near one of the apple trees. The air smelled like a mix of the nearby sea, the autumnal decay of old plant matter, and chimney smoke from nearby houses. It was soothing. The sun had started to set and the moon, just a small waxing crescent, was making an early appearance. He could see Venus rising just in the distance. He looked all around, admiring the beauty that surrounded him. There was so much happiness he had already experienced here with Aziraphale in the short time since they bought the cottage. He hoped for much more happiness to come.

A vision of himself walking through the garden, his long fingers delicately holding the tiny hand of a strawberry-haired toddler, wild messy curls and all, popped into his mind and popped out just as quickly. The vision was brief, but its impact was strong as he felt his heart gripped by it. How he wanted that moment so badly.

He closed his eyes and felt the air in the garden surrounding him, the breeze light, caressing his skin the way Aziraphale does when he comforts him. He breathed the way Anathema showed them in the office. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. He did a few of these, eyes closed, tears in waiting. He felt his entire corporation buzzing as he began to look inward, letting himself see - truly see. He brought his awareness down through his chest, into his abdomen, and lower into his pelvis. With an exhale, he let himself open up to what was happening within his body.

“Oh - oh God,” a cry broke free.

There it was. A tiny, yet strong, little force. The protostar he dreamt of. Their baby-to-be. Baby. He felt everything about it. Its incredibly strong life force - a perfect blend of his and Aziraphale’s - God, he felt Aziraphale so strongly there. Its miraculous nature. Its total dependence on him. Love. So much love.

“Hello, little one,” he whispered as he placed his hand low on his belly, below the snake belt buckle that has kept watch these last few weeks. The tears came in steady rivers flowing down his face.

“Please forgive me for not letting myself feel you.” He sniffed. “I already love you so much.” He felt a warm glow deep within, like a reassuring hug. "Your Papa and I love you so much."

The air was pierced by the shrill ringtone on his phone. "Anathema." He wiped the tears from his face. He didn't want to answer alone so he walked quickly, his long legs taking even longer strides towards the door as he called out to Aziraphale.

Aziraphale appeared at the door.

Crowley answered. "Crowley here," he was slightly out of breath from his impromptu power walk. "Can you wait a moment until I am next to Aziraphale? I was in the garden."

"Absolutely," Anathema sounded happy. A happy voice was a good sign. Right?

Crowley grabbed Aziraphale's hand and they walked back into the kitchen, Crowley's shoes dragged some crushed leaf bits onto the floor. Seated at the table with his angel, Crowley placed the phone down and hit the speaker button. "Okay, we're both here." He pulled off his overcoat and blazer and let them crumple behind him. He was starting to feel the sweat that came along with the flush from fear.

"I know you are nervous so I will start by saying it's good."

Aziraphale blew out the breath he had been holding since Crowley first shouted his name from the garden. The demon's hand was shaking in his.

"You were at exactly 400 for the last test. We want those numbers to at least double within 48 to 72 hours. And, Crowley, you are at 1,368."

Crowley was stunned for a moment at the happy news. "That's more than triple. I'm…I'm still pregnant?" He knew - he had just connected with his baby - but the need for reassurance was constantly overwhelming him.

"You're still pregnant," she reassured him.

"So we will see you in a few days again for more blood work?"

"Yep! You guys are all scheduled and I look forward to seeing you then. Again, don't ever worry about reaching out if you need me. I'm here for you both." She was a warm comfort in their lives.

Thanking her, they hung up and leaned into one another at the table. "Thank God," Aziraphale whispered. He was coming down from his own anxiety. Each phone call had jump started his heart and his nerves until Anathema gave her reassurance. He could only imagine how much Crowley suffered from a similar anxiety.

"Shall we eat? Are you still hungry?" Aziraphale knew that nerves had a way of keeping Crowley's stomach unsettled.

"Starving," Crowley said.

Crowley ate slowly and carefully and took his prenatal vitamin with his meal. He was his own soup of feelings - happiness and comfort from his connection with his baby, the come down from the anxiety as the phone rang, the relief from his midwife's words. His stomach had flip-flopped more than a summer tourist's shoe on the beach.

As Aziraphale began to wash dishes, Crowley noticed the debris he'd tracked into the kitchen. He grabbed a broom and started sweeping, ever the helpful demon.

"No, no, no!" Aziraphale flicked water from his hands and took the broom from Crowley, placing a damp hand on the confused demon's back and ushering him to the chair. He began sweeping. "I already saw that and planned to sweep it up. You just relax."

"I'm not made of glass." Crowley was charmed by his protective angel. Watching that side of Aziraphale emerge stronger than it has ever been was going to be a delightful part of this pregnancy, he thought. He had a thing for badass Aziraphale.

"I know that, my dear. You are, by far, the strongest being I have ever encountered." He tipped the dustpan into the bin. "I happen to enjoy doting on you. Can't have you barefoot and pregnant, scrubbing the kitchen floor." He turned back to the sink to finish washing up the dishes.

Crowley watched him, deciding to miracle his overcoat and blazer to their proper locations in the coat closet and wardrobe respectively. He snapped his fingers and they disappeared. He smiled. Crowley was helping. He wouldn't know until later that his overcoat had ended up draped over the globe in the library and his blazer was in the bathtub.

He focused on the back of his angel. Aziraphale had removed his waistcoat at some point. He was in his delicate blue shirt sleeves, cuffs rolled to his elbows. He admired the slope of his powerful shoulders and the large muscles in his back as they strained against the cotton of his shirt while he worked. His angel may be a fluffy marshmallow, but it was a front for the warrior in his true nature. His rounded plump ass was comfortably snug in his trousers and, though the fabric was relaxed in the legs, Crowley knew it covered the universe’s most delicious set of creamy, plush, muscular thighs. Crowley was hungry with lust, feeling wetness and ache grow between his legs. The rest of his body had other opinions, though, and Crowley was still nervous about engaging in such activity despite the reassurances from Anathema. Besides, he had something joyful to share with Aziraphale and that took precedence.

Crowley stood up behind the angel and wrapped his arms around his waist, pressing his nose up to the back of his neck and inhaling the indulgent scent of him. Aziraphale rinsed his hands and wiped them dry with a towel, leaning his head back toward Crowley’s and placing his hands together with the demon’s. “No more work,” Crowley’s lips were pressed against Aziraphale’s skin and his voice vibrated against it, leaving the angel flushed. “Fancy a bath? We’re here to relax.”

Aziraphale hummed. “Mmmm. That actually sounds quite lovely.” Taking care of Crowley and the home helped keep his mind busy so the nerves didn’t take over too much, but he admitted he was in need of some nice moments of rest and relaxation.

Their primary bathroom was just off their bedroom. Filled with natural light during the day from several small windows, it was charming and peaceful in the evening with a soft amber light emanating from a wall sconce above the mirror, which was situated over an antique pedestal sink. The bathroom was done in mostly cream tones, with hints of lavender. An obvious design from the angel, who wanted to enhance the rustic charm of the room. The ceiling had the same exposed timbers that were found throughout the house. The tub was an old-fashioned clawfoot, much like the one in the bookshop flat, its outer body done in a lovely lavender color while the inside was white. It was big enough for two - especially long-limbed demons.

With a snap, Aziraphale ignited a few LED candles around the room, giving it a lovely warm glow. He turned on the faucet to fill the tub with water that would remain the exact perfect temperature for as long as they soak and - wait. "Crowley, why is your blazer in the bath?" He picked up the now partially soaked blazer.

"Huh…um…felt confident about that miracle. Guess my aim was off."

Aziraphale laughed and miracled it dry and into its proper location in the wardrobe.

He checked in with Crowley about the scent of their bubbles, not wanting to cause any stomach upset. With confirmation, he poured in his favorite lilac-scented soap, filling the tub with delicately fragranced bubbles. They undressed and stepped into the tub, Aziraphale holding Crowley’s hand and then bracing his back as the demon sank down into the bubbles and leaned back between Aziraphale’s legs.

Crowley positively relished the feel of the softness of his angel. He felt safe, steady, reassuring. He rested his head back onto Aziraphale’s chest and draped his arms onto his thighs, gently circling his hands onto his knees. He could feel Aziraphale’s soft cock floating in the water against his back. How he missed it - it had been nearly a week since they made love, the longest stretch without it since the very first time they had sex. Soon, he told himself. His own body moved with the rising and falling of Aziraphale’s sturdy chest. Closing his eyes, he relaxed into the feeling of safety provided by his angel.

Aziraphale trailed his hands along Crowley’s arms and interlaced their fingers together. He looked at the body resting against him. He noticed that there was the slightest new swell to Crowley’s chest. Crowley always had just the tiniest hint of a chest, but this was new. One wouldn’t notice unless they knew every inch of that body by heart - and Aziraphale did. He had a vision of Crowley sitting in that very tub, cradling a tiny infant in his arms and nursing them, delicate wisps of strawberry blonde hair reflecting the light. He was held like a hug by the rush of love in that vision. He kissed Crowley’s head. “This was a perfect idea.” Another kiss. “Just what the doctor ordered.”

Crowley smiled and squeezed Aziraphale’s hands. He could fall asleep here, honestly. “I felt them,” he whispered.

Aziraphale kissed his head again. He didn’t have to ask, but he wanted to hear it. “You felt them?”

“The baby. Our baby.” His chest heaved at the enormity of the words that came out of him. “I let myself feel them.” He turned his head to look up at Aziraphale. Fuck, he was stunning in the candlelight.

Aziraphale dipped his head down to brush their lips together. “I’m so happy for you, Crowley.” The next kiss was longer. “I’m so, so happy for us.”

Crowley turned his head and leaned back into him. He took Aziraphale’s hand and guided it low, placing it on the spot just above the hairline at his pelvis. The spot where their miracle was currently nestled. He felt the small jerk in Aziraphale’s chest as he gasped, his heart beating slightly faster. “The anxiety and fear may not leave anytime soon, but I don’t want it to rob me of this.” He pointed his chin down. “We created something marvelous, Mr. Fell, and I intend to feel every bit of joy from it.”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale shifted the both of them slightly so they could face one another a bit easier. He brought him into a tight hug, kissing the side of his face. He looked into Crowley’s eyes, smiling as he noticed the irises were shrinking down, the golden hue enhanced by the candlelight in the room like amber in sunlight.

Crowley, too, was lost in a set of eyes. The candles reflected like stars in the midnight blue of Aziraphale’s eyes, reminding him of the heavens he created. He was lost for a moment in the incomparable beauty of his angel.

They kissed and cuddled, losing track of time, before Crowley rested himself back into Aziraphale again, keeping their hands low on his belly. When it was finally time to get out, Aziraphale went first, carefully guiding the demon and covering him with a towel. Crowley walked his damp self to the bedroom and turned on the light. He stood before the cheval mirror and dropped the towel to look at his naked form in the reflection.

Aziraphale walked into the room, towel around his waist. He sat on the bed and watched Crowley as the demon looked himself over in the mirror.

Crowley ran his fingers over his abdomen until they were delicately sitting above the auburn curls at the center of it all. He traced little circles there, drawing sigils of blessings onto himself. He looked almost entirely the same, yet very different. Maybe it was that pregnant glow. He brought a hand to his chest to trace the slight swells there. This was the first visible sign, to him, that his body was changing to accommodate and nourish someone. He smiled at the thought of nursing their baby. And then he Crowley’d. “Look at that, Angel!” He met the blue eyes in the reflection. “Actual titty type tits. Tiny titty tits, mind, but they’re there.” He poked at his swollen nipples before wincing from the tenderness.

Aziraphale chuckled softly. “They certainly are there, my dear boy.” He walked over to Crowley, placing an arm around his waist and resting his head on his shoulder. “We’re at the very beginning and the changes are already astounding. I must say, I wait in eager anticipation of watching you change to accommodate our growing baby.” He smiled broadly. “Or should I say, ‘antici….PATION?’” recalling the line from Rocky Horror. They both laughed. Oh, it was refreshing to see the demon happy.

“Can you believe we conceived after seeing Rocky Horror? I was still in my garters and fishnets.” Crowley mused. “Not exactly the kind of angelic conception they teach in churches.”

“No, but it’s somehow very fitting for the two of us, isn’t it?” They shared a few more laughs before getting into their pyjamas and deciding to make their way to the sitting room to enjoy the fireplace.

They had a small Georgian fireplace in their bedroom, but it was the sitting room that had the grand show. The sitting room was just off the kitchen and featured large windows and the cottage’s signature exposed timbers. They had furnished it with cognac-colored leather chairs and a sofa as well as a few side tables, an extra gramophone, and a small bookcase already filled with Aziraphale's selections. All paled in comparison to the inglenook fireplace. Taking up the entire expanse of one wall, the deep fireplace was original to the centuries old origins of the cottage.

Crowley offered to start the fire, but Aziraphale politely declined, noting that it's one thing for a misplaced blazer from wonky miracles, but misplaced fire would be awful. Crowley agreed it was probably for the best.

They switched their positions from the bathtub - this time, it was Crowley who played big spoon to Aziraphale, who, after gentle reassurance from the demon, settled back into his embrace. "You can't squish the baby," Crowley had soothed, "they are snug as a bug in a rug, as you would say. Very protected in there."

Time passed as they held one another, letting themselves open up to talk about their hopes. And confessions. "That nursery room," Crowley began. "Every time I walked in there, I felt this sadness. Like something was missing. Almost reminded me of missing you. It would just…hurt. Felt empty."

"I know," Aziraphale whispered.

"You do?"

"Yes," Aziraphale took his hand. "Your entire countenance would change. It was subtle and momentary, but I could see it. I could sense it, too." He kissed his hand. "I didn't quite know why, but I had been trying to come up with a way to delicately broach the subject. Perhaps that's why we could never decide on a role for that room."

"I think you’re right." He paused for a bit and twirled his fingers around white blonde curls. “You’re going to be the most wonderful father. We haven’t even known for a full week, but I already love watching you in this role. It’s so beautiful.”

“Father,” the word brought the tears. Lord, they have been crying a lot lately. Aziraphale had been called that word in the past. So had Crowley. They had been priests as part of their respective roles many times over the centuries. This is the first time he heard himself referred to it in the truest sense of the world. How his heart leapt. “Say it again.”

“Father. Aziraphale, Guardian of the Eastern Gate, Warrior of Heaven, Father to the Demon Crowley’s baby.” Crowley laughed. “Has a ring to it.” He tightened his arms around the angel. “Father. Papa. This baby will be lucky to have your guiding light and your protection.”

Aziraphale turned himself around to face Crowley, teary eyes meeting. “I will protect you both with everything I have. I’m honored to be the father of this little one.” He kissed Crowley. “You will be the most magnificent father, too. Er…Mother? Parent? Daddy? Zaddy?” He sat up. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to assume.” He thought of the way Crowley floats effortlessly through gender. “These are all new things to talk about.”

Crowley thought for a moment. “I haven’t let myself think on it, really. I dunno. I feel like a Mum and Daddy rolled into one. S’pose it’ll work itself out, but I’m really fine with either.” He squished his face.

“Am I hurting you?”

“No, no. Not at all. Just gotta pee. When in doubt, I either have to puke or pee. Sometimes both.”

“Perhaps we should head to bed anyway. It’s getting past your bedtime.” Aziraphale “moved” the fire from the sitting room to the bedroom.

Bladder emptied, Crowley climbed into bed with Aziraphale and got under the covers. He snuggled up to his angel’s chest. He had something else to talk about. “I’m sorry I’m not ready for sex, yet. I want you - badly - but I’m still nervous about it. And my body is all wibbly wobbly. I think I am half afraid of puking on you. I’ll make it up to you.”

“I do hope you know that is something you will never have to apologize for. While sex with you is exhilarating and tremendous, I only want it when you are completely comfortable. It’s not transactional, my love. You never have to make anything up to me.” That Crowley still thought he needed to give up autonomy in sex pierced Aziraphale’s heart. Crowley had worked so hard to be comfortable when they first started making love - it took him nearly two months before he was able to be on the receiving end of penetrative sex. Aziraphale was always extra cautious with Crowley for this reason. He never wanted to do anything that would induce a flashback or make Crowley feel otherwise out of power. Even when he was dominating him, something Crowley thoroughly enjoyed, he read every inch of the demon for signs that he may need a break or reassurance. It was a balance that they had gotten very good at, but were still perfecting.

“It isn’t the only way to be intimate, my darling. I would go as far to say that penetration isn’t the only way to have sex at all. The same goes for oral. There is so much that we do that I find beautifully intimate.” He pressed his lips to his forehead. “That, for example. Simply holding hands. The way you slowly glide your fingers along mine when we hold hands in public. Taking baths and showers together. Eating together…especially you watching me eat.” He knows what you are, Crowley. “Cuddling. Kissing. Reading to one another. Lord knows…bickering. Touching one another.” Another press of the lips to the demon. “Some of it is very erotic. All of it is sensual and intimate.”

Crowley lifted his head and moved up to kiss Aziraphale, his tongue finding its way to caress against the angel’s. “I love you.” The three simple words were enough to convey millions of years of feelings. “Can we…can we just lay here together with our pyjamas off?”

“That would be delightful, my love.”

Crowley dashed to the bathroom for a last minute wee before returning to bed to get out of his pyjamas. They slowly undressed each other. Crowley took his time with each of Aziraphale’s buttons, slipping his hand under the fabric to run it along the silvery chest hairs. He pulled the trousers off, revealing a pantsless angel, soft cock resting quietly against his thigh crease. Delicious. “Someday very soon, lad,” he said to Aziraphale’s cock. They shook with laughter. He pulled off his argyle socks slowly.

Aziraphale gently pulled Crowley’s top over his head, careful not to brush up against the tenderness of his newly swollen chest. The sight of that subtle growth tickled something very primal in the back of his brain. Pulling off his trousers revealed a pair of black and red lace knickers. Oooh. He noticed they were slightly damp as he pulled them off. Crowley’s socks had already been kicked off before getting into bed. Aziraphale leaned down to the mound between Crowley’s legs. “Someday very soon, lass.” They dissolved into laughter as Crowley pulled Aziraphale on top of him, once again reassuring him that no one would be crushed.

The night was spent cuddling, kissing and laughing until Crowley fell asleep, safe and warm with skin pressed against skin, Aziraphale’s strong arms cradling him and holding him to his chest. He kept watch. As a father should.

Chapter Text

Mornings at the cottage were no different than the mornings of the past week at the bookshop. Crowley sprang out of bed and into the bathroom, greeting the inside of the toilet bowl. Aziraphale dutifully followed after to offer comfort and a glass of ice water. ”How can I help you this morning?”

“Don’t tell me what my butthole looks like when I puke,” was the most the demon could manage.

“It happens to be my favorite butthole.” He gave a light slap to Crowley’s bum.

The demon laughed, enjoying the moment before blessing the toilet again. “I need to get in the shower.” His skin was hot and uncomfortable. The vomiting was especially bad this morning. It took him a while before he could even leave the toilet for the shower.

Aziraphale walked him over to the shower room and joined him under the warm water, washing the demon’s hair and body. He washed his own body after Crowley leaned over and puked down the shower drain. “No matter, my love,” he said to an embarrassed demon, “that’s what soap and water are for.”

Crowley leaned up against the slate grey walls before slowly sliding down to sit on the tile. “It feels awful this morning. I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep anything down.”

Aziraphale sat down next to him. “I’m here for whatever you need.” He massaged Crowley’s shoulders. “Perhaps, when you are ready, I could brew you some fresh ginger tea. I can even make it iced, if that helps.”

“Sounds good, Angel.” Stomach completely empty, he dry-heaved.

It took several tries before Crowley could get out of the shower. His abdominal and back muscles were weary from constant heaving. Aziraphale helped him dress into his pyjamas before the demon crawled back in bed. Several hours later, he felt confident enough to get out of bed and head to the kitchen with Aziraphale. “I’ll take you up on that tea.”

“Would you like some lemon for your tea?” the angel asked.

“I’d like some lemon slices,” Crowley answered. “He reached for the wedges as Aziraphale cut them, biting into them and sucking the lemon juice out.

“Oh….okay.” A confused Aziraphale looked on.

“Sour helps with the stomach,” Crowley said. "Old midwife stuff. You could stuff ‘em up the cunt to prevent pregnancy.” He smirked. “When that didn’t work, you could suck lemons to stop the nausea.” He finished the wedges of an entire lemon. "Feels a bit better. I'll try the tea." He was happy that his sips of Aziraphale's fresh made ginger iced tea stayed down.

"Do you think you might brave some breakfast?" Aziraphale asked, cutting more lemon wedges.

"Toast sounds good." He grimaced. "Toast actually sounds awful. Wish there was something else I could keep down." He grabbed another lemon wedge.

Aziraphale found himself charmed by the little pinched expression on Crowley's face each time he bit into a new wedge. "I could name some options, but I don't want to overwhelm you." Aziraphale was trying to balance his fussiness.

"Do we have peanut butter?"

"Peanut butter…uh…" he reached into the pantry. "Ah yes, right you go." They do now. "Would you like it on a sandwich or on some toast or - oh -"

Crowley yanked the jar from his hands and grabbed a spoon from the drawer before sitting back at the table and propping his feet up on another chair while he opened the jar. He dipped the spoon into the jar and licked the peanut butter off slowly.

Aziraphale watched, catching his breath as he felt something tingle down below. Getting turned on by the sight of Crowley licking peanut butter off a spoon. That was new.

Crowley studied the jar. "Oi, this is orgasmic." He held the jar up to Aziraphale, who had made a delightful little squeak. "Says it right on the jar. Just like my vitamins." Organic. He licked another spoonful. "Mmmm…it most certainly is. Mmm."

Aziraphale pulled at his now too-tight collar and blew air out of his mouth. He felt a little flushed.

Crowley watched him and smirked. He decided to work that spoon extra hard. "Ohhhhhhh," he moaned, "this is ssssoooooo good. Mmmmmmm. This is what you do to me when you eat, Angel." He groaned like Aziraphale would around his favorite dessert of the day, working the spoon with his tongue like he has worked the angel's cock many times before. "Oh yes. Mmmm. Oh God." At least he was eating. "Peanut butter has a lot of protein. Mmmmmm. You know how I like my protein." He raised an eyebrow and winked.

Aziraphale willed all of the blood in his body to avoid his cock. He never thought he'd get turned on at the sight of someone fellating a spoonful of peanut butter, but here they were. Crowley was a brat and, on more normal occasions, Aziraphale would likely teach him a lesson for this behavior. This late morning, though, he was just happy to see Crowley in a more relaxed state, more like himself.

Crowley decided to have mercy on his flushed angel. "Well!" he said, dropping the spoon in the sink and putting the peanut butter away. "I think a walk would be lovely, don't you? Explore some of the beautiful nature around us?"

Aziraphale felt the rising rush of heat dissolve. "W-why yes. That would be absolutely lovely. Let me just clear up here and we can get going." He pulled at his collar again.

"I'm going to check on my plants and then get changed." Crowley began to walk out of the kitchen when Aziraphale called after him.

"Crowley" The low register of his voice vibrated through the demon. "Don't think I will forget how you behaved just now," he said as he wiped the table with a towel, not making eye contact. He stood up straight, twisting the the towel around his hands. One could tie someone's naughty wrists with it. His eyes met Crowley's, his nose slightly upturned. Though shorter than the demon, in this moment he was looking down on him, it seemed. "Perhaps we want to mind our behavior today. Hmm?"

Electricity pricked Crowley's spine and he felt dampness grow between his legs. He knew his teasing would have consequences. And he likes it. "Of course." One corner of his mouth turned upward.

Aziraphale found Crowley sitting on the edge of the bed. He hoped his little show in the kitchen didn't make him uncomfortable. He thought he was picking up on signals from Crowley. "Oh, Crowley, I'm sorry…"

Crowley stood up and dipped the waistband of his pajama bottoms down to reveal bubblegum pink lace knickers.

"Oh…oh…I…" Aziraphale wasn't sure what to say.

"I can't dress myself anymore with miracles. I get the ducky socks, which I don't mind to be honest. But these…Angel, I think the color is burning my skin." He picked at the waistband. “And I wanted cotton. I like lace and satin now and then, but a girl’s gotta breathe, too.”

Aziraphale smiled. "Well, it does suit you. "

Crowley huffed. "S'pose I should put more stuff in the wardrobe so you don't have to constantly miracle an outfit for me."

"I rather enjoy helping you with miracles, my dear. But I am also happy to help with filling the wardrobe with more of your things."

"Be nice to break up the heavy tartan and sky blue in there."

Aziraphale clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes. He snapped and an assortment of the clothing Crowley typically wears found their way into the wardrobe. Aziraphale smiled. "I believe we will figure out sizing as you grow." He pulled out a pair of Crowley's impossibly tiny trousers. And a heavy dark emerald green jumper with a snake design done in black embroidery down each arm. This was not something Crowley already owned, but it was something Aziraphale would like to see him in. He loved his demon in green - the way it looked with his red hair and his yellow eyes. Aziraphale shivered. He'd hoped the snake design was enough to placate Crowley over wearing a different color. He held it up. "Wouldn't this be nice? It's awfully chilly out there."

Crowley shook his head and smiled. He wasn't supposed to know, but he was very aware of how much Aziraphale loved him in green. It was very rare that he wore it, but he loved the look in his angel's eyes when he did. He figured there would be many changes to his wardrobe in the coming months. If he was honest with himself, he looked forward to them.

Once dressed, Crowley looked at himself in the mirror. He did look a bit stunning.

Aziraphale opted for a sleeveless jumper rather than his usual waistcoat. Tartan, of course.

Crowley stopped in the kitchen for a few more spoonfuls of peanut butter, behaving this time.

They decided to walk along the coast, soothed by the sea air and the sound of the waves. A storm was looming and the ocean was especially dramatic with her waves. There were hardly any people out and about. They eventually made their way down to be closer to the water. They sat on the rocky beach for a bit - terrible on the bum - warm in their jumpers and overcoats. The wind had picked up and Crowley's un-miracled hairstyle was fluttering in it. Aziraphale thought of how his tempter looked like a tempest and the fire in his heart grew.

They talked about random things for a while before coming round to discuss pregnancy and the baby. "Imagine us here in the summer, with a baby in a little beach tent. Or a few years from now with a toddler and shovels and buckets." Crowley smiled at his own words, ignoring the fear in his heart, and feeling proud that he was allowing himself to hope for the future.

"That will be quite lovely. I also imagine you, absolutely giant with child, wading in these waves here."

Crowley laughed. "I will be here right at my due date, prancing in a string bikini."

"That would be rather hot if I'm honest."

"Wait…when is my due date?" Crowley began to count on his fingers.

"I imagine right in the first couple of weeks of July." Aziraphale answered.

"Oof. That'll be toasty. Thank God for aircon." He leaned his head back and took in the sea air. His eyes grew wide and he jumped up.

"What is it, Crowley?" Aziraphale stood up. "Crowley!!" He ran after his demon, who had run into the waves and was now heartily vomiting into them.

"I'm sorry little fish. I'm sorry whales!" Crowley shouted as he spit the last of his refuse into the water.

Aziraphale miracled a cup of ice water, which the demon used to rinse and spit. The cup was miracled back to its place at the cottage once he was done. He noticed that the water around Crowley was much calmer than the rest of the sea. Mother Nature herself recognized the sacred.

"I'm never eating peanut butter again." He wiped his mouth and rinsed his hands in the salty water. "Ugh that was probably one of the worst foods I have puked up." He did his deep inhales and exhales to settle the spinning feeling in his head, not caring that he was nearly knee deep in the freezing ocean.

Aziraphale didn't care either. Red hair tousled, amber eyes glassy and wet from tears brought on by his heaving, cheeks flushed, the hint of a green jumper under his overcoat. Crowley managed to be absolutely gorgeous and glowing despite having just heaved nearly an entire jar of peanut butter and some bits of lemon into the sea.

Crowley was thinking the same thing about Aziraphale. His platinum blonde hair contrasting with the dark clouds overhead, eyes the same color of the ocean that swirled around them, the darker blue-grey of his overcoat contrasting with his skin. He was Crowley’s favorite miraculous vision. Even though his throat was on fire and his stomach felt like an oily pit, he was so happy to be in this moment with his angel.

Aziraphale held Crowley’s face in his hands and pressed their lips together. “Let’s get you out of the water and nice and dry."

Back on the pebbles with a miracle to dry them both, Aziraphale had a thought. “Crowley! Do you have your phone? I’d rather enjoy a picture of you here. “ He was so beautiful and Aziraphale thought maybe they should have more photos of this beautiful pregnant demon to document this time in their lives.

“Of me?”

“Do you see another Crowley? Bring up the camera portion, please. I can handle clicking on the button.”

After some grumbling, Crowley handed him his phone. “Mind my puke floating off in the distance. Actually, can you still see it? Would be a great shot.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes before opening the camera app on the phone and capturing the demon in a photo. Crowley would later find 7 unintentional selfies of a perplexed Aziraphale looking down into the camera. Then he’d find the intended photo of himself standing at the edge of the waves, glasses off and face to the camera. He didn’t smile, but his eyes held love and hope. His red hair, pulled by the wind, offered a contrast to the dark blue sea behind him.

“Wait, Angel.” He held Aziraphale by his waist and pressed their faces together side by side, holding his phone up. As the inventor of the selfie, Crowley wasn’t going to pass up an opportunity to get one of himself and his love. “Make love to the camera for me.” They both looked at the camera - at the last minute, Crowley turned his face to plant a kiss on Aziraphale’s temple. That was the moment he captured. In the photo, Aziraphale’s face shone with his usual divine light, his eyes warm and his smile jovial at the surprise kiss. “Our first family photo,” he whispered.

They explored a bit more along the coast before deciding that a late lunch may be a good option. After much debate, they agreed to head into a nearby town and find a cafe there.

At lunch, Crowley ordered a safe bowl of chicken noodle soup and a glass of ice water, lemon slices on the side, please. He swirled his spoon in the broth, deep in thought.

“What’s on your mind,” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley sighed. “I’m constantly in this state where I’m walking a tightrope. One side is joy. The other side is absolute fear. And I can't keep my balance. I wobble between them a lot.”

Aziraphale placed his hand over Crowley’s and listened.

“I’ve barely gotten used to deserving your love and the happiness that comes with that. To be honest, I still don’t believe I am worthy.” He picked at one of the lemon wedges. “Now we’re here and I don’t think I deserve this, either.” The corners of his mouth began to turn down. “A baby deserves better than every damned part of me.”

Aziraphale leaned toward Crowley, eyes on the demon’s downturned eyes, hand over hand. He let him speak, knowing he had so much to say himself, but that it was important to let Crowley express all of this, no matter how uncomfortable. Crowley was working so hard on dealing with his past right before he got pregnant. This new part of their lives and all that goes with it would certainly provide a challenging aspect to the healing.

“It’s so frustrating,” Crowley continued, “one moment I am swimming in joy and the next moment the fear eats away at it and spits it in my face.” He pushed the rest of his soup away. “I was so deliriously happy standing in the waves with you, do you know that? Even though I had just puked and my throat tasted like rancid peanut butter,” he paused as if he was about to dry heave, “I was so happy. You looked like the fucking sun to me. Just pure sunshine. And I thought, I get to hold that sunshine within this body. How could I possibly be worthy?” A small quiver moved along his lips. He picked the napkin up from his lap. “I’m sorry if I ruined lunch.”

Aziraphale moved his chair so he was directly next to the demon. “Crowley,” he tipped his chin so their eyes met, “These thoughts are valid. You spent most of your existence being cast out. It’s going to take more than happy moments with me to heal from that. And there is nothing wrong with the process or the length of time. What matters is that you are worthy and I will be at your side always.”

A waiter approached to check on their meals and quickly turned when they realized the two were engaged in a private moment.

He tentatively hovered his hand over Crowley’s belly, not wanting to assume permission. Crowley put his hand on his and pressed it to him, letting him feel the ethereal warmth there.

“It’s as I said last night - I am honoured. I am incredibly honoured that you have chosen to carry a baby for us.” He kissed his cheek. “I can only hope that I am doing right by you both.”

A wry smile grew on Crowley’s face. “Look at us. Aren’t we something? Me with all my trauma. You, too. It doesn’t matter how good you are, Angel, you never believe it’s enough. That’s trauma, too. We make quite the broken pair.”

“That we do, my dear fellow.” He lived for the warmth under his hand. “It’s better to be broken and still healing than whole and bitter.”

Crowley’s smile widened and he leaned in for a kiss. “I wouldn’t have it any other way with anyone else.”

Leaving the restaurant, Crowley asked if they could walk through the town and check out the shops. Aziraphale thought of what Crowley said the previous night - he knew the fear and anxiety would be there, but he was going to fight to feel the joy, too. Here he was, fighting for it as they walked holding hands.

They dipped in and out of many shops, primarily because Crowley had to pee. They, well mainly Aziraphale, felt guilty for using the shops for their bathrooms, so they bought things from each one. They ended up with candles for Christmas, more lemons, cookie cutters, eclairs - much to the angel’s delight - and Boba Tea, which Crowley immediately choked on because he drank it too fast - Aziraphale was happy to finish both of their drinks.

“Looks like one of us does better with handling balls in their mouth,” Aziraphale giggled to himself.

Crowley cracked up. “I’m so proud of you, Angel. ‘S a good one. In public, too!”

A blushing Aziraphale noticed a bookshop. “Ah! One must patronize the shop of a fellow bookseller!” He hooked his elbow into Crowley's. "Come along!"

This shop was more modern and catered to more general selections. They wandered through the aisles, browsing the selections. Crowley ran off to the lavatory, happy to find a private loo rather than the "ladies and gents" bullshit he dealt with all day. He didn't feel "right" using either and he'd have to check to see who was around lest some arsehole yell at him for choosing the wrong one. This private loo was a comfort. At least there was one good thing about being dragged into the bookstore.

Crowley emerged with his empty bladder and looked for Aziraphale. He found him in an aisle marked, Pregnancy and Parenting, arms already full of several books. "Oh, here we go." He approached his angel. "What do we have here.?

"Ah! Crowley! They have a wonderful assortment of books on pregnancy. I have plenty in the bookshop, but I rather thought we should have a few modern ones to keep with the times.”

“Pregnancy and birth have remained the same since they shat us all onto this planet, Angel. It’s the way people understand it that has changed. Mostly for the worst. Humans love to ignore nature and they love to control other humans.”

“Yes, well. Well, I thought these were interesting.”

“You’ve got 14 books so far,” Crowley tried so hard to be cranky about this.” You do realize I’m a midwife. And we have our very own other midwife person.”

“Yes, but I’m not a midwife. I’ve seen my share of births, including the first one and The Big One,but I was obviously nowhere near as intimately in tune with it in the way you were. And are.” He shuffled some of the books around in his arms expertly. “Look, this one goes week by week.” He flipped the pages - it truly was amazing to watch how he could carry dozens of books as if they were light and airy like candy floss. “It says here that at 4 weeks they are now an embryo and they are the size of a poppyseed. Imagine that!” He was gleeful. “Such a tiny thing to be causing everything that you’ve experienced so far.”

Crowley smiled. “I don’t have to imagine, Angel.” He fingered the books in Aziraphale’s arms. “Gentle Childbirth. Do they have non-Gentle Childbirth, because I’ll be screaming this one out with all my fire and fury.” He felt a flush of sweat at the realization that he’ll actually have to get this baby out. Best to push that thought to the back of the mind. Way, way back.

Aziraphale picked up a few more books. “I think this is a good start. Let’s get rung up.”

“Let me carry some for you, Angel.” Crowley tried to pull some of the books from him.

“Absolutely not!” Aziraphale was firm.

“It doesn’t look great with your 6”1’ boyfriend at your side with empty arms while you carry half the bookshop.”

“Been doing it for centuries, darling. I'm quite the sturdy gentleman. And I’ve seen the way you handle books.” He had a point. “Here,” he grabbed a book from a display and tossed it over to Crowley, “you’ll like this one. It has pictures.”

Crowley looked at it. “Sandman. Hmmm.” He flipped the pages. “Looks almost interesting.” He followed behind Aziraphale, imaging what his thick biceps and shoulders looked like under his clothes, hard muscles flexed and firm as he carried the stacks. In reality, all those books were as heavy as a single piece of paper to Aziraphale. The thought brought wetness between the demon’s legs.

“Oh my,” the clerk’s eyes were wide. “Sir, we would have been happy to help you. We do have baskets for future reference.”

“Not to worry, my dear. It’s all in a day’s work for me.” He turned and grabbed the book from Crowley. “This one, too.”

“Looks like someone is studying babies and birth,” the clerk said as she began ringing them up. “Bit of a lesson on the birds and bees?”

“Oh, we’ve got that sorted quite -”

Aziraphale put his hand up. “Crowley…no.”

The clerk began stuffing them into canvas totes. “I don’t want to assume, but if congratulations are in order here, you have them from me.”

“I thank you, my dear.” He gave her one of his blessed smiles. And a miracle.

“Would you like me to call another clerk to help you two to your car?"

“No need, my dear girl, the car is waiting for us outside.”

“She is?” Crowley piped up. Of course she is.

After an awkward scramble where Crowley tried to grab one of the totes, the two headed out to find the car right outside.

“Oh, how convenient,” Aziraphale chirped.

They loaded all of their bags into the boot. Another store caught Crowley’s eye.

Aziraphale noticed. “What is it?” He followed Crowley’s gaze to…Little Wonder Baby Boutique…a baby store. Decked out in soft colors, with a window display of layette items, a crib, and adorable stuffed animals, the baby store captured their attention. “Would you….would you like to go in?”

“There are so many superstitions about thinking about babies or preparing too early.”

“Right you are.” Aziraphale was very aware. He assumed Crowley would not be in the correct emotional state to go into a baby store just yet.

“And they are all bullshit. I never witnessed a superstition that stopped the inevitable, saved a baby’s life, or saved the parent during birth.” He tipped his chin up. He was going to chase joy, even with fear at his heels. “I want to look around. Just to see what they’ve got.”

Aziraphale brightened. “I would love that.”

Crowley noticed a small Pride flag on the door of the shop as they stepped in. They were greeted by pastels and muted colors and bright colors all the same. It was a smaller shop, but still loaded to the brim with various items for pregnancy, birth, and beyond.

“Don’t need about three quarters of this shit,” Crowley whispered. “So much waste in this industry. They make you feel helpless so they can sell you billions of pounds worth of shit whose sole purpose is to make it so you don’t have to actually touch or interact with your own baby.”

Crowley had strong opinions, but Aziraphale could definitely see his point. It’s as Crowley and Anathema had said - so much had changed, but not always for the better. He was disrupted by a high-pitched squeal of delight and nearly fell over when he realized it was coming from his demon.

“Look at this!” He held up a sky blue - like a certain angel’s shirt - bodysuit with a delicate pattern of white and yellow stars aligned in constellations. “The constellations are actually correct - placement and all.” The front had a tiny embroidered star and said, aptly, “Little Star.” It was impossibly tiny.

Aziraphale was head over heels at the look on Crowley’s face while he admired the bodysuit and ooh’d and ah'd over other tiny layette items. “I think we should get it.” Something on the same rack caught his eye. A coordinating bottom. He grabbed it off the rack. “I must insist we get these.” He held up a pair of trousers that contained the exact same sky blue, white, and yellow colors. In tartan.

Crowley was so giddy he said, “Absolutely!” and didn't even give the angel his usual snide remark about tartan.

Aziraphale could only manage a “Holy shit.”

They browsed through the rest of the store. Coming across a display of pumps, Crowley held up flanges to his chest and moo'd. No, Crowley, no. "Probably will need one of these at some point."

They came up on a selection of baby carriers and Aziraphale learned that Crowley had extensive knowledge on the various ways one could strap a baby to their body and continue with their day. Aziraphale was quite looking forward to it.

The diaper aisle brought about a discussion of cloth vs. disposable. Crowley was happy to see more cloth options available. Both agreed that they would prefer cloth most of the time, occasionally using disposable.

"It's overwhelming, innit?" Crowley stopped in the middle of an aisle, surrounded by nipple creams. "All I need for the first few months are a car seat, nappies and wipes, something to wear them with, clothes, and my tits. Maybe a cradle or cot."

Aziraphale adored listening to Crowley yammer on and on. Even though he was quite loudly opinionated on baby products, Aziraphale found that Crowley was in his element, loaded with knowledge, experience, and instinct. He was going to be an amazing parent.

Aziraphale was dreamily listening to Crowley's monologue about the way some parents use prams as weapons when pushing their way through crowds when his eye captured a familiar yellow bear in a tiny red shirt on a shelf of stuffed animals. Winnie the Pooh.

Aziraphale would have you know that the original Winnie the Pooh was naked, but by 1932 they had added the shirt. Aziraphale would also have you know that he quite preferred the original Pooh, but the combo of the yellow fur and red shirt was his favorite. Wonder why?

He didn't hear the demon come up behind him. "'Sometimes the smallest things take up the most room in your heart,'" Crowley whispered the Pooh quote in his ear.

"Oh!" Aziraphale clutched the little stuffed animal to his chest as the quote floated into his heart. He thought of the little poppy seed safely nested within Crowley. How they had completely captured both of their hearts already. "I believe I would like to get this. If you don't mind."

"Course I don't mind, Angel." He reached out to the shelf where the Pooh had been. "But you can't have Pooh without his Piglet. They belong together. Always." He held up the little stuffed Piglet and booped its nose to Pooh's.

"'Any day spent with you is my favorite day. So, today is my new favorite day.'" He booped the Piglet back. He could quote all the Winnie the Pooh books backwards and forwards. He owned all the first editions and then some. He couldn't wait to read them to their baby.

Crowley leaned in to give him a tiny kiss, squishing the Hundred Acre companions between them.

At the till, the clerk asked Crowley if he wanted to sign up for a discount program or email list and he declined. He whispered to Aziraphale, “It’s so they can send you useless shit in the post.” Back to cranky, but rather correct, Crowley. He noticed a set of brochures on the counter. “Queer Pregnancy and Parenting Support Group: Virtual and In-Person.” He fingered the brochures.

“Take one,” the clerk said, delicately wrapping the bodysuit and trousers and placing them in a bag. “It’s a great group. Very open. Very supportive. They have an online option for meetings, too. And a private chat group for daily support.” They placed the Winnie the Pooh and Piglet in the bag with the clothes.

Crowley took the brochure and nodded his thanks. The skies opened up just as they stepped out of the store. Crowley went to dash to the car, but Aziraphale stopped him. He was about to get very corny.

“Wait, Crowley, wait.” He pulled the demon closer to him. “It’s raining. There’s an awning here. Doesn’t that mean something?”

Crowley groaned over a cheesy smile. “You’re so embarrassing.” He leaned into him. “Never change.” If Aziraphale wanted a moment, Crowley was going to give him a moment. He dipped him backward to kiss him heavily, passionately, the biggest and longest kiss they have ever shared in public so far. Oh yes, with just a little tongue.

They attracted more than a few looks. Aziraphale was vaguely aware of a smattering of, “awwwws" and at least one whistle.

When Crowley finally broke the kiss, a man walked past, looked Aziraphale in the eye and said, “If I had a husband that looked like you, I’d do that all the time.”

Aziraphale was instantly red. “Me?”

Crowley beamed with pride. “You. He definitely meant you.” husband Another quick peck and he took his hand to lead him to the car. “Let’s get home, Angel.” He was very wet and it had nothing to do with the rain.

At the cottage, they scurried from the car to the cottage as the rain fell heavily. The wind had picked up and the air was very heavy with the scent of the sea.

“Bleeding raining upwards out there,” Crowley laughed as he pulled off his overcoat and hung it on the antique coat rack. He kissed Aziraphale quickly on the lips. “Be right back. Loo calls.”

“Ah! Ah! Ah! Boots, my dear.” He pointed to wet footprints on the floor. “Pregnant or not, demons do not track their rainy boots through the house.”

“I’m about to track something else if I don’t get to the loo,” he said as he dutifully removed his boots.

Aziraphale had miracled their bags from the Bentley into the cottage and made quick work of putting everything away. The books found themselves stacked next to his side of the bed. The bag with the baby clothes, Pooh and Piglet was set on the small chest of drawers in their room.

Aziraphale made his way into the kitchen - Crowley had requested a nice Welsh cawl - beef, not lamb - with homemade bread. As it was later in the day and cawl was something Aziraphale would normally slow cook, a few miracles were needed to help in the kitchen. It would certainly hit the spot with the current weather and Aziraphale hoped it was something Crowley could keep down. It was certainly heartier than anything the demon had eaten recently.

Supper was a success as far as they could tell. Crowley ate two bowls and they both silently prayed that it politely refrain from making him sick later. Aziraphale knew that his cawl - perfected over centuries and learned from real Welshmen - was loaded with important nutrients for Crowley and the baby. Plus, it was just pretty damn good.

They agreed on a repeat of the previous night, enjoying a long soak in the tub before relaxing on the sofa in the sitting room with the fire ablaze.

“This is certainly atmospheric,” Crowley said, weaving his fingers through Aziraphale’s. The wind had been howling around the eaves while rain pattered against the windows.

“I loved the baby store,” Aziraphale said softly.

“For the baby duds or the kiss afterward?”

Aziraphale gave a quiet laugh. “Both,” he said. “I truly adored seeing you in there. The way your eyes lit up over that little outfit was a delight. How you seem to know so much about little babies and the accoutrement that goes with them. You’re a natural. The kiss was the cherry on top.”

“Was perfect - the tiny bodysuit. The little stars on it.” For their little star. “Don’t worry about me going soft. I’ll have them in all black and snakeskin, too. In fact, that’s my next project. Little snakeskin booties. Fake, of course. ”

“And I’ll have them in all tartan and angel feathers. Maybe a little pocket watch.” He snorted.

“Do you think of what they’ll look like?” Crowley asked wistfully.

“All the time.” Aziraphale twisted around to look at Crowley. “I hope they look a lot like you, especially with those eyes.”

“Mmmm. See, I hope for your eyes. My big hope is for your nose.” He leaned down to kiss that very nose.

“I suppose they will turn out looking very much like themself.” Aziraphale mused.

“Quite right. You know, I had a vision of them. Just before I felt them.”

“You did?”

“Yes. As a wee toddler walking with me in the garden. Holding my hand. I couldn’t see their face, but their hair was not quite as dark as mine, but not as light as yours. Good mix of both. Curls wild as anything. Like yours and mine.” He tousled Aziraphale’s hair.

“Strawberry blonde.” Aziraphale whispered. “Strawberry blonde. A perfect blend of ours. I had a vision, too.”

“Really?” Crowley raised his brows.

“Yes. We were sitting in the tub last night and I noticed your…well, like you said yesterday, your chest is just a bit fuller.”

“My tiny titty tits!!” Crowley gave one a poke. “Ow.”

“Right” Aziraphale laughed with him. “Well, I envisioned you holding our baby, very tiny and very new, in that same tub. Nursing them. They had the faintest wisp of strawberry blonde hair. Not enough to curl yet.” He felt the same love that had emanated from that vision. “It was quite a beautiful peek at the future.”

“Mmmm.” Crowley felt a tingling in his chest at the thought of feeding their baby. “That’s lovely.”

“I quite like this part,” Aziraphale began. “A big part of me wants to shout from the rooftops and tell everyone we know so they can celebrate with us. I loved the moment with the chemist the other day and the bookseller today and the clerk at the baby shop - people who figure out what’s going on. And Lord knows it won't be hidden for very long once you get a belly.” He sat up for a moment, looking at Crowley’s face. “I quite like having this secret. I enjoy walking around with you, among people, and knowing that something so incredible is happening to the two of us and that it’s really three of us, but it’s not obvious to everyone else. Is that selfish?”

“No. Not at all. I feel the same, really.” He ran his fingers over his belly. “I…I s’pose we’ll have to decide who to tell first.” He thought for a moment. “Anathema can tell Newt. I’m fine with that now. Poor boy will need the whole nine months to adjust. Uh….Maggie and Nina will guess in no time. I just have a feeling about that. Probably won’t have to puke in Nina’s trashcan again to give them a clue.” He laughed. “Oh! Imagine when Mr. Brown finds out. He’d roll himself in a carpet to deal with the despair of losing your love.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “Oh, would you leave the poor man alone? We’ve had this discussion. I can’t help that I’m irresistible. That gentleman today said as much.”

“Very irresistible.” Crowley pulled Aziraphale on top of him for a hungry kiss. He squeezed his legs around the angel’s thighs, feeling his knickers dampen.

Aziraphale grew quite warm. He wanted to grind into Crowley, but refrained because he didn’t know what he was okay with at the moment. It didn’t matter because it was over before it began.

“Fucking bladder. I need to hop up.” He let out an exasperated sigh. “Maybe we should head to bed.”

“I think that’s a good idea.” Aziraphale transferred the fire and headed to the bedroom.

Crowley came in from the bathroom and crawled in next to Aziraphale. “Can we do what we did last night? Skin to skin?”

“Of course.” Aziraphale was grateful to get his pyjamas off. He was much warmer this evening. “Perhaps I should dim the fire to just a glow.” Crowley agreed and the bright orange light of the fire died down to just crackling embers, casting new shadows and faint flickering light through the room.

“Can we undress each other again?” Who needs the fireplace when his crotch was lit up, Crowley thought. He wasn’t ready for full-on sex, but he needed something.

“I’d like that,” Aziraphale’s voice shook. He tried to control his body’s reaction when the demon undressed him, but his cock struggled to stay quiet, stiffening ever so slightly as the fabric of his trousers was dragged across it when the demon pulled them off. “Sorry. Mind of its own tonight.” Aziraphale laughed nervously.

“‘S’alright.” Crowley smiled. “I appreciate a free thinker. Never change, lad.” They laughed.

Aziraphale was once again very gentle while undressing Crowley. He pulled off the pink knickers - Crowley had decided to keep them on after all - he secretly liked that Aziraphale had admired them. They were quite damp, the angel noted.

Crowley felt his body light up and he sucked in a breath as the angel’s hand brushed his mons. He held onto Aziraphale’s hand. “Angel, I’m gonna explode.”

“Oh…?”

“I need to do something. All I want is a proper thrashing in any hole at this point, but….I can’t.”

Aziraphale wanted the same thing. “It’s okay that you can’t, Crowley. Minus the exploding part.”

Crowley growled. “It’s frustrating me. I think it’s because my body feels out of control these days and it brings me back to…darker times. It’s making my mind all weird. I know we’ll get it sorted just as we have before. But….fuuuuuucccckkkk it's really inconvenient.”

“There is no rush, Crowley.” He paused and thought over this next bit. He wanted to help, but he didn’t want to push. “Do you…do you touch yourself?”

Crowley was taken aback. “Nghk. I…could…but it brings me to when I did it because I was lonely and couldn’t have you. I’ve got all of this delicious angel right in front of me and - why do bodies do this?”

“It’s hearts and minds, too, Crowley. Healing isn’t linear and it's okay to go back to taking smaller steps.” He paused again. “I do hope my question wasn’t a bother. I only suggested it because it may bring you relief.” He was going to take a chance with this next bit. “And I’m right here. I…I could watch you.”

“Oh.” It dawned on Crowley that it was an option. “You want to watch?”

“I’d love to. If that’s alright with you.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

Crowley nodded towards Aziraphale’s center and the thickening length that was getting…harder…to conceal. “He’s not exactly napping.”

“Oh. That’s no matter. I want to be sure you’re getting relief. I will be quite alright.” Aziraphale reassured him. It was nothing a miracle couldn’t sort.

Crowley felt the trickle of his wetness escape from between his lips. “Can….can I watch you? I would love to watch you.”

Aziraphale felt himself shake. “I would quite like that.”

Crowley looked around the bed. “How should we sit?” It was almost like he was doing this for the first time.

“Whatever is most comfortable for you. Pregnant demons get priority.”

Crowley puffed up pillows against the headboard and leaned against them. He spread his legs and began to prop his knees on more pillows when Aziraphale stopped him and asked if he could move closer to Crowley.

“Of course,” Crowley said. “I just can’t have bits in my bits right now, but I still want to be close.”

“I have a better idea than these pillows.” He scooted closer to Crowley and pulled the pillows out from under his knees. He wrapped his own legs under Crowley’s and behind his bum. Their heat was very close, but not touching. Crowley’s knees rested on Aziraphale’s thighs, the rest of his legs behind the angel. Lotus position. It was one of their favorite penetrative positions, just modified for Crowley’s current needs. “Is this comfortable for you?”

“It’s perfect. This is perfect.”

“Can I kiss you first, Crowley?” Barely a second passed before Crowley’s lips were on his, tongue searching between them.

Crowley sat back. “Tell me what to do.”

“I want to see you touch yourself. Show me what you like.”

Crowley's breath shuddered. The thought of touching himself in front of Aziraphale made him feel slightly nervous, but he was hot for the idea. He needed something to release this pent up energy. He felt exposed in an erotic way.

Slowly, he licked two fingers and brought his hand down to his aching heat. “Oh…God.” He explored the outer part of his lips with his hand, feeling nerve endings explode already. He parted his lips, groaning at the feel of his fingers on the soft skin. Slowly, he ran his middle finger up and down along the inner part of his swollen lips, up and down, up and down. He would have to work hard to hold back the orgasm that was knocking at his door. He focused on Aziraphale’s hungry eyes as he worked his fingers around the deep inside of his folds, trailing over the inner lips, getting slick with his wetness. He let out a little cry as a finger moved around the hole. He stroked a very sensitive spot just at the base of the opening, right where it met his taint, and thought about Aziraphale’s thick cock searching the same area, the head dipping in and out. Digital penetration during sex was a hard line for Crowley no matter what, so he would make do with remembering the feel of the head of the angel’s cock teasing him there. Wetness streamed out, covering his fingers and he moaned and writhed against his hand. He watched as the angel began to pleasure himself.

Aziraphale took his cock in his hand, slowly working around the head and then up and down the shaft. His eyes were laser focused on the sight of Crowley’s wide open legs and cunt, wet folds and hole dripping onto the sheets as the demon explored himself with his fingers. He remembered the feel of his cock in there, sliding up against wet lips before his head would rest at the hole, slowly pushing in and opening Crowley layer by juicy pink layer. He moaned, watching the gluttonous look in the demon’s eye as he stroked his foreskin up and over the head of his cock. Up and over. He felt the heat build up where their thighs touched.

Crowley hungrily watched the way Aziraphale’s foreskin glided over the glans over and over. He could feel the way that same foreskin would glide when Aziraphale was buried deep within him. He wanted to devour it with his mouth and with his cunt. He licked his lips and then brought his fingers up to his mouth, tasting his own flavor and smiling at the sound of Aziraphale’s moan in reaction. Fingers made their way back down to his hole, circling it, getting wetter. He moved up slowly, tracing each lip as he brought his wet index finger to his clit. He moaned as he let himself search around it, feeling its firmness, stretching the hood back as he circled a finger around.

Their bodies shone with a beautiful sheen of sweat. The room was filled with the sounds of the storm outside as well as the storm of their shared moans and heavy breathing inside.

Wordless, they stared into one another’s eyes as they each worked their hands on their respective bodies. Crowley’s cries became higher as his fingers circled around his clit a bit faster, changing directions and speeds.

Aziraphale was dripping pre-cum, which he smeared all along his shaft as he worked his hand up and down, twisting and jerking, his cries reaching a pitch to meet Crowley’s, his entire body shaking.

Crowley writhed and bucked against his palm , fingers now feverishly working at his clit, his hole soaking everything - his crack, the bed, his hand. He arched his back and his neck, pressing his head into the headboard before bringing it back to look at Aziraphale. The waves of his climax were building, getting ready to crest over his body. He watched Aziraphale shake, his deep blue eyes desperate, the flesh of his thighs vibrated against Crowley’s, his chest and face flushed a deep pink. The muscles of his chest and his working arm were taut and strained against the flesh. His cock fucking his closed hand hard and fast. He could hear the sound of his precum as it was squished between his hand and his cock. It was much like the wet sounds coming from Crowley’s damp heat as his own fingers worked faster in service of his clit.

They were both just at the edge. Crowley began to whimper the angel’s name. They grabbed each other's free hand, grappling fingers together, holding on to the thin tether of reality. “Kiss me” Crowley gasped against his breaking orgasm. Their lips crashed together and raspy breaths were passed between them.

Aziraphale’s cock was straining and twitching in his hand as he felt the upwelling of energy that would become his climax, ready to explode and rocket through his body. His balls were tightly pressed against him, about to deliver their load. He desperately held onto his awareness of the heat coming off of Crowley’s trembling muscles and the way the wetness spread around the demon's body. Crowley's breathing pattern signaled he was very close.

"Oh, fuck…”Crowley…I’m…”

“On me,” Crowley hissed. “I want your cum all over me. God…Aziraphale.”

Low moans were mixed with piercing cries as their orgasms rocked them together. Crowley ground against his fingers and hand as he felt hot spurts of Aziraphale’s cum hit along his belly and chest. He dragged his fingers through it, rubbing it on his clit and all over his lips, bringing himself to a second unexpected orgasm that had him screaming Aziraphale’s name as the angel was still rocked by aftershocks. The muscles in their thighs jerked and shook together.

Aziraphale and Crowley both looked down at the demon's body, his chest and belly smeared with the angel's spend, mixed with heavy sweat, leading down to a trail of wetness that had flowed out of him onto the sheet.

Crowley collapsed himself onto Aziraphale. "Fuck. I needed that." He kissed the angel, panting against his lips. "Thank you." He felt elated and reconnected. The consistent reminder that he is always safe with Aziraphale was a warm light in his heart. He kissed him again. "That was…thank you."

They sat there, legs and arms intertwined, their spent bodies pressed together and simply rested into one another, letting their lungs and muscles calm.

Aziraphale miracled a glass of ice water. Crowley was sweatier than he usually gets and he was trembling more. "Here, darling, you worked up quite the thirst, I'm sure."

Crowley carefully sipped it. As he came back into his body, he began to worry that all the activity may make him feel nauseous. He was incredibly thirsty, but small careful sips were the way to go. He was holding onto the feeling from their activity. He felt full. Happy. Re-connected in that beautiful way with his angel. He held the glass at his chest as he leaned back into Aziraphale, pressing his lips against his shoulder. The angel’s strong arms squeezed across his upper back, reminding him that he is well-protected. He wanted to stay there for as long as his body would let him. Which wasn’t for long. “Damn,” he whimpered.

“Pee?”

“Of course.” They began to unfurl from one another. Aziraphale took the empty glass from Crowley and placed it on the nightstand, where it would find itself full of water whenever the demon reached for it overnight.

Crowley looked down at his belly as he walked back to the bed from the washroom. He was still sticky from drying sweat and Aziraphale’s spend. “Do not miracle this away angel.” He loved the feel of it on his skin. He climbed into bed and snuggled against Aziraphale, who turned to face him, draping his arm over his torso.

“Is everything in order?” the angel asked.

“How so?”

“How do you feel? Do you need anything?” Aziraphale grazed his fingers along Crowley’s ribs.

“So much better. Can’t even explain it.” He sighed. “You were right. So many different ways to experience sex and intimacy.”

Aziraphale smiled. “I’m sorry, can you repeat that last part? I was what?”

Crowley propped himself up on his elbow and began to laugh. “Oh no. You’re not getting me to say it again.”

“That’s not fair. I’m very old.” Aziraphale spoke in an elderly voice, “The hearing isn’t what it used to be, my boy. I need you to say it in my good ear.” He cracked up at himself.

“I’m just as old as you and I heard myself fine.” He took a pillow and whacked the angel with it.

“Why, that’s elder abuse! No matter, I will simply tickle it out of you.” Aziraphale wiggled his fingers at Crowley.

“Absolutely un-ticklish. Snakes cannot be tickled.” He rolled back and forth, laughing wildly, as the angel’s gentle fingers proved him wrong. “You were right! You were right, Angel.”

“Very well. Seems we had a science lesson. Snakes can indeed be tickled.” He kissed along Crowley’s jawline, landing on his lips. “I rather enjoy learning about nature.” He trailed his fingers down Crowley’s torso, avoiding his chest, and hovered his fingers as they approached the spot where their baby was growing.

Crowley pressed his hand there, as he has done a few times now. “You always hesitate here. You can touch me.” His voice was low and soft, reassuring him.

“I never want to presume. This is such a sacred thing.” He gently drew protective sigils over the skin with his finger, much like Crowley had already done.

Crowley could feel Aziraphale’s blessings work through him. He couldn't find words to describe the feeling. He felt those blessings as they centered around his uterus, around their baby.

“Thank you, Angel. Consider this my own blessing for full permission to touch me there whenever you’d like. This is your creation, too.”

Chapter Text

Six minutes. Six glorious minutes. That is how long Crowley had from the time he woke up to the time he was dashing out of bed to deliver his morning greeting to the toilet. That was the longest he had in recent days and it was lovely. He woke in Aziraphale’s arms, skin still a little sticky from the night before. He smiled. “G’Mor’n’gel,” he mumbled. He yawned and stretched and then grimaced at the tenderness in his chest. “Did I puke yet?”

“Not yet, my dear boy.” He planted a tender good morning kiss to his head. “Good morning.”

It was a difficult morning for Crowley as his sickness was persistent - even water didn’t want to stay down. He cried in Aziraphale’s arms on the floor of the shower because his throat hurt and because the crying made it worse. Aziraphale eventually carried him back to bed, where he gave him a luxuriously long massage to soothe his strained muscles. After the demon fell back to sleep, Aziraphale sat in the armchair by the window, reading his new pregnancy books, absorbing all the knowledge at his fingertips. Part of fatherhood, he surmised, was staying well-informed so he could better serve his demon. For Aziraphale, there was always room to improve himself.

The afternoon was smoother than the morning. Crowley asked for leftover cawl, which surprised Aziraphale since it was so heavy, and was able to keep it down. Crowley spent a lot of time with his plants, making sure they were watered and well-nourished, well-behaved and spotless. His plants trembled less, despite his somber inspections of their leaves. Crowley knew that they could sense the new little presence. He wouldn’t admit it, but this made him happy.

By late afternoon, they had packed the Bentley with all of Aziraphale’s new books and Crowley’s lemons. He opted to take the bag with the baby outfit and the stuffed animals back to the bookshop.

“I just like looking at them,” he said to Aziraphale when the angel spied the bag in the front seat.

They arrived at the bookshop just as the sun was beginning to set. Maggie was outside of her shop, locking up for the day. The moment she saw the Bentley she squealed and clapped her hands.

“Oh fuck,” Crowley said, “This one is trouble, Aziraphale. She suspects something. I can smell it.”

He got out of the car. “Maggie! How’s the vinyl?”

“Mr. Crowley! Mr. Fell! We haven’t seen you for days!”

“We’ve been working on the cottage,” Aziraphale offered. “Still so much work to be done. We are eager to have you and Nina out there for a visit soon.”

On cue, Nina popped out of her shop. “Oi! Boys, where have you been?” She locked the door to the café.

Aziraphale and Crowley looked at one another. They were about to be double-teamed. Crowley leaned into Aziraphale and whispered into his ear, “I’d like to chase joy today. I’m okay with them knowing."

Aziraphale looked up at him, his eyes showing both excitement and nervousness. “Are you sure? I certainly want them to know, but I want to be sure you are most comfortable.”

“You’ll find, Angel, that our dear blonde friend here already knows. Trust me.”

“Hey!” Nina called as she crossed the street. “Look at you two with your heads together. Planning something devious?”

“Always,” laughed Crowley.

“Well, we’ve just had a long drive,” Aziraphale began, “why don’t you join us in the bookshop so we can say a proper hello and get ourselves settled.”

Crowley pulled the baby store bag out of the car. He watched the corner of Maggie’s mouth turn up ever so slightly. His miracles may be shit, but his senses and instincts aren’t.

“Can I get you anything? Tea? Coffee? Cocoa? Water?”

Aziraphale nervously buzzed about the two on the sofa by his desk. They were going to share. They were their first non-medical friends who were going to hear the news. He was full of excitement and nervousness. What if…what if they didn’t take it well? Oh, nonsense, he told himself. They watched him implode demons and explode his halo. This was light work.

Crowley excused himself for a moment - “Nature calls!” - to head upstairs. He brought his bag and placed it in the bedroom. He, too, was feeling a bit nervous, but also very excited. He knew the more people who knew, the more real this was becoming. Nagging thoughts told him it wasn’t safe to tell. What if something happened? What if you curse yourself? He shook his head to shake away the thoughts.

“No,” he said to himself, “not today, anxiety.”

Nina and Maggie had always been good to them. Nina and Maggie had forced Crowley to face the truth about his feelings and…well, it went a bit sideways for a moment there, but here they are now - happy and in love and very safe. And they actually talk to one another.. Nina and Maggie would have the honor of being the first friends to know outside of Anathema.

Maggie and Nina watched as Aziraphale nervously rearranged papers on his desk over and over as they waited for Crowley.

Finally, he arrived. “You look amazing, Mr. Crowley.”

He did, of course. He dressed for comfort today. His usual tight trousers, yes, topped with a black Aran jumper. He hadn’t bothered with hairstyles at the cottage, opting to keep his hair parted to allow the length of it to fall to one side. The sea air had enhanced his already natural waves. He was one of those annoying fellows whose hair was technically messy, but looked perfect and intentional. Despite feeling incredibly ill most of the time, he was still glowing, mostly from the inside. He looked every bit the temptation that he was designed to be.

He slinked down into the armchair, exactly as he had done when they lectured him all that time ago. This time, Aziraphale was with him, having taken up a protective post at his side, arm resting on his shoulder.

“Your hair!” Maggie exclaimed. “Who knew you had that under all the pomade?”

“Right. Well." He self-consciously brushed his hair back. "It takes a miracle to get it in that state.” Literally. “Submitted to the sea air in the Downs and let nature take its course.”

“Well, nature has certainly taken her course,” Nina smirked at Maggie. “Since you’re looking good, I take it you’re feeling better?”

“I’m feeling better right this moment, yes.”

“Right. Cut the crap.” Nina said. “This one -” she pointed to Maggie - “has been tittering about for a week because she has a notion about the two of you. We can’t pretend to know what you two are or how you work, but something is certainly up.”

“Why, whatever do you mean? What sort of notion?” Aziraphale was awful at trying to play along. He didn’t even know which side he should be playing.

“Let’s see,” Maggie began, “Crowley is glowing like he just came home from the spa. His face looks so different even though it’s the same. He ate an entire slice of cheesecake in about one minute the other day. I've barely ever seen him take more than a nibble.” She looked at Aziraphale. “Not to mention, Mr. Fell, you have been nervously pacing while waiting for Mr. Crowley. Now that he is here, you are standing guard by him.”

This may be a serious interrogation.

“He stopped ordering his espressos,” Nina added. “He hasn’t had any coffee at all. And then there is the cinnamon thing.” She looked at Crowley, “You’ve been in there a million times when I’ve been making those exact pastries. One whiff last week and ‘blech,’ off you went.” She softened. “We’re having a bit of fun with it here, but we don’t want to make you uncomfortable. If there is something you two would like to tell us, we hope you feel safe to do so.”

Aziraphale and Crowley looked at one another. Crowley smirked and looked back at Nina and Maggie.

“Excellent detective work.” He looked back up at Aziraphale, who was about to pop, and held onto the hand at his shoulder. “Whatever you’re getting at here, you’re probably right.”

Aziraphale would not be playing it cool. He balled up the fist of his free hand, shaking it in the air, as he squealed through his giant smile. “We’re expecting!” His voice was high and light.

“Oh my God,” the ladies shouted together.

“H-how?” Nina asked.

“Well, when a mummy demon and daddy angel love each other very much, they stick their -” Crowley tried to help her understand.

“Not you,” Nina laughed. "Pregnant or not, you're trouble."

"We're in the business of miracles, my dear," Aziraphale explained, "sometimes the miracles happen to us."

"Oh," Maggie's eyes immediately began to well up. "I knew it," she sniffed, "but actually hearing it has turned me into a blubbering fool." Nina squeezed her hand. "We're so happy for you two."

"If you need anything from us, don't hesitate to ask. Tea for the belly. Pastries. Sandwiches. A bin to puke in." Nina laughed. "Anything. Babysitting. Free babysitting."

"Oh yes! I have loads of nieces and nephews. I'm great with kids." Maggie was giddy.

Crowley smiled. "We have a bit of time before that, but you two get first dibs."

"Why don't the two of you join us for supper? Nothing fancy, but we can get this fellow fed and we can chat more."

The four of them headed upstairs where Nina offered to help Aziraphale in the kitchen and Maggie lounged with Crowley in the parlour.

"Where'd you get your sixth sense for babies?" Crowley asked.

"Oh, I worked on a mum and baby ward when I was younger. Just doing light work. That and my brothers all have kids and I am just used to it. You pick things up here and there."

She looked him over. She could tell he was tired. She was both at ease and intimidated. Crowley had always been nice to her in his own way, but his gruff nature didn’t make him the most inviting fellow. She knows people put walls up to protect their hearts - she had been through this with Nina - but did the same go for whatever he and Aziraphale were? Still, she could see changes in him recently. He seemed just the smallest bit softer around the edges. Sitting here with him, he gave off a very powerful and magnetic aura, yet something about him was so very vulnerable.

"How has it been treating you so far?"

"Can't complain. Well, I can complain. About a lot. I am just grateful." He picked at his jumper. "Been an adventure so far. Never been so intimately acquainted with toilets in all my life."

Maggie chuckled. "We're so happy for you both. What an amazing experience." She was nervous to dig too deep with him. They've always had friendly conversations, but here she was talking to some sort of magical pregnant being like it was just another casual chat. "Are you scared at all?"

"Terrified. Naturally. Trying to take it minute by minute, luv." Of the few soft spots that Crowley will admit to having (not to be confused with the number he actually has), two of them are for Maggie and Nina.

"Oh."

"We didn't even know this was possible, mind. Just happened." He rested his hand lightly on his belly. "Don't know if I'll ever believe it until the baby is in my arms. I won't relax until then."

Maggie wanted to hug him. She was unsure of what she could do. "You two are going to be amazing parents. This little baby is very lucky to be born into your family. Mr. Fell will be such a doting father. You both will."

Crowley smiled. "We're very lucky. I can’t imagine a better father than him."

Nina called them in to dinner. The four sat in the tiny bookshop kitchen and chatted about various topics until the conversation turned to the pregnancy.

"How…how will you get the baby out?" Nina asked bluntly.

Crowley didn't exactly want to think about that part yet. "Probably with lots of screaming. By both of us." He poked Aziraphale.

“Can I ask?” Nina had burning questions and was walking the delicate balance of being polite and relieving her curiosity.

“All the bits and bobs are there, if that’s what you are asking. We made this baby the old-fashioned way and I’ll be having them the old-fashioned way, too.”

“Interesting” Nina moved onto the next round of questions. “Tell me, does Mr. Fell fuss over you a lot? I bet he is the most attentive father.”

“Would we call me fussy?” It was a serious question.

Nina, Crowley, and Maggie all gave a hearty “YES” in unison, laughing together.

Crowley smiled lovingly at Aziraphale and placed his hand over his atop the table. “I give him shit all the time.” He paused, not wanting to get too sappy. “He does fuss over me. A lot. I barely lift a finger anymore,” he laughed softly. “He’s love incarnate, honestly. I haven’t been easy. I’m sick and weak constantly and he works so hard to help me cope with it all. He makes sure I am eating and taking my orgasm vitamins.” Crowley. “He listens to me cry over and over and over again. He keeps me safe. It can’t be easy taking care of a pregnant me. But he does it so beautifully. He’s been my strength and my love. I can’t wait for our baby to meet him because they are going to be the most blessed little tyke in the universe.” Not too sappy, right?

Three sets of eyes looked at Crowley with the starts of tears.

"Don't get used to this. Hormones have me out of my gourd." He laughed. "I plan on resuming full grumpy status once baby is topside."

"Somehow, I doubt that," Aziraphale whispered.

"Wait," Nina raised her brows, "orgasm vitamins?"

"Organic. They're his prenatal vitamins." Aziraphale rolled his eyes.

"We should have known," Maggie laughed.

They brought their conversation to the parlour and talked into the evening until it became obvious that Crowley was having a hard time keeping his eyes open. Maggie and Nina gave Aziraphale their hugs while Crowley stuffed his hands in his pockets, shoulders up to his ears.

Maggie rubbed his arm. "Both of you call us if you need anything at all. You won't be a bother."

Crowley laid face down on the bed as soon as they were gone. "M'so tired."

Aziraphale sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed his back. "Can I get you anything?"

"Eighteen hours of sleep." Crowley mumbled into the pillow.

"Can't do that I'm afraid. You have your appointment tomorrow first thing."

Crowley rolled over. "Wish the nerves would settle. I'll be a wreck until she calls with good numbers."

"I have full confidence they will be good, Crowley."

"I told Maggie that I won't relax until the baby is in my arms." He rubbed his eyes.

Aziraphale ran his fingers through red waves. “I understand,” he whispered. “What a lovely sight that will be. I look forward to it.” He caressed his cheek, his ear, his neck. “I look forward to every moment that leads up to it.”

He regarded Crowley’s tired eyes and the worry lines on his face. “I know you are exhausted, my dear boy. Can I help you into pyjamas?”

“Only if you want to help me out of them right after.” He groaned. “Can you pee for me? Don’t feel like getting up.”

“I’m afraid that is not the type of miraculous intervention I offer. Let me help you up.” He aided Crowley in sitting up and took his hand. He wondered how someone who felt so strong could also feel so frail.

Crowley pulled his jumper off as he climbed back into bed. They continued with their new nightly ritual of undressing one another and snuggling up under the covers, laying face-in with eyes locked together.

“I’m happy Maggie and Nina know. Officially ”

“Agreed. It was quite lovely to see how elated they were for us.” He kissed the demon’s nose. “That was…uh…a rather nice thing you said to them at the dinner table this evening. Quite touching, actually.”

Crowley reached his arm around his waist to press into him even tighter. “Meant every word, Angel. Every word.” They kissed until Crowley finally dozed, curled safely in the arms of his love.

Crowley leaned against the bed and whined, “Why do I have to wear clothes?”

“Generally speaking, one wears clothes when one appears in public. Especially for their midwife appointments. “

“She’s gonna see all I’ve got anyway.” Crowley was joking, but he felt a woosh of nerves over that thought. He pushed that thought down.

“Quite right, dear boy, but the other nice people in the waiting room and the lovely receptionist have not signed up for that. As glorious as you are in the flesh, it’s rather polite to arrive dressed.”

As usual, Crowley’s morning was not exceptional. He nearly dozed off at the toilet between heaving episodes. He nearly dozed in Aziraphale’s arms as the angel assisted him in the shower. He dozed while Aziraphale made him a bowl of very plain oatmeal, which he barely ate. Now, he was still naked, sitting on the bed, and the thought of clothing touching his skin was irritating. He was too tired to make a choice.

“Just put anything on me. Won’t complain.” His eyes were closed. “I won’t even watch. Wake me up when you’re done.”

“That’s a new symptom - the demon Crowley not caring what he looks like.”

Aziraphale miracled a simple black knit shirt and a deep cut waistcoat that didn’t compress the tenderness at his chest. Though, it enhanced the growing swell there. He quite liked the way it looked on his demon. He hoped Crowley would find his trousers acceptable. His belly was still quite flat, but Aziraphale had noticed compression marks from the waistband when he undressed him the previous night. He’d hoped that just a little extra elasticity at the waist would be comfortable. The snake belt perched above precious cargo, his silver tie, ducky socks, and boots were the final touches to a very Crowley outfit. Aziraphale was pleased with himself and the demon didn’t complain.

They almost didn’t make the appointment. This is because Aziraphale nearly had a heart attack in front of the door to the bookshop after Crowley asked him to drive. He stood frozen in shock for several minutes. “Are…are you sure?”

“I’m too exhausted, Angel. I know she’d get us there regardless, but…yeah. Turn it yellow, though, and I promise to puke in your lap.” He winked at the angel and got in on the passenger side, where he promptly fell asleep.

After being led into the exam room, Crowley sat in the chair next to Aziraphale, leaned his head on his shoulder, and began to doze off. He sat up with a start when Anathema entered with a cheery, “Good morning!”

“Hi,” Crowley yawned. “Can we do the blood right away so I can lie down?” He yawned again.

“Sure,” Anathema smiled. “I see the fatigue has really begun to sink in.

“S’in my bones. Deep in my bones. I get tired just from sleeping.”

“Good. Very good."

They discussed all of his current symptoms, which Anathema was pleased to hear about.

"So we'll check your hCG again today. After the results this afternoon, we can discuss whether or not you want to continue testing. If the results are pretty high, I am comfortable with not testing anymore. You're flush with symptoms and we'll have ultrasound as an option in a few weeks."

"Uh…sure. Happy to follow your guidance there." He looked at Aziraphale. "Ultrasound? In a few weeks?"

"Yep!" She patted the exam table for him to have a seat there. "We have a few options when it comes to your first ultrasound." She gathered her supplies for blood work and indicated to him to roll up his sleeve. "You're 5 weeks now -"

"I am?"

"He is?"

Both Aziraphale and Crowley seemed slightly confused at how the passage of time works. Crowley thought he'd be four weeks pregnant forever.

"You are," she smiled. "Tiny poke. Good. Good."

Crowley was glad that Anathema was so adept at drawing blood quickly and efficiently. It wasn't that he was afraid, he just wanted to nap.

"Stay sitting for just a moment while I check your blood pressure." She wrapped the cuff around the arm that hadn't just been poked and puffed it up, sliding her stethoscope under the cuff. "Good, very good." The sound of Velcro echoed in the room as she unwrapped the cuff. "You're good to lie down, Crowley."

He was all too happy to do so. "Do you have to poke around?"

"If it is okay with you, I would like to palpate your pelvic area. Just like last time. Remember, I will not do anything you are not comfortable with. You can decline and I won't be offended. Promise."

"Give me a minute. Tell me more about the ultrasound."

"So as I was saying, you are 5 weeks now. We could theoretically do one this week or in weeks 6 or 7. This week, we'd only see a sac. Their heart will start beating at some point this week, so an ultrasound a little later will show not only that, but the actual baby as well."

Heartbeat. Crowley and Aziraphale looked at each other. They had both felt the extra life force in Crowley, but hearing about an actual heart doing actual beating would make it much more real.

"Heartbeat? That's all very real." He rolled onto his side and curled his arm under his head. He focused on the spider plant in the window, its little white flower was quite wilted. This would seem sad to many people, but Crowley knew it meant a new baby spider plant was forming.

It is, Anathema said softly. "You may be more comfortable waiting until 7 or 8 weeks as we'd be more likely to see baby with a standard abdominal ultrasound. Before that, transvaginal is the norm."

"Trans-transvaginal? Oh! Right! Because I switched…"

Anathema chuckled. "Not quite. An abdominal ultrasound means the wand we use to transmit the picture runs over your belly, much like my hands do when I palpate you. A transvaginal ultrasound means the wand is inserted into your vagina. It's easier to see the pregnancy at weeks five and sometimes six that way."

Aziraphale noticed the muscles in Crowley's legs tighten.

"No," Crowley said. "No, I won't be doing that. I can't…I don't…want to be touched there or have anything inserted.”

"That's very understandable. Again, I want you to feel free to make all the choices about your body. I am not here to try to coerce you into anything uncomfortable."

"I want to avoid having as many people touch me as possible. So, I prefer just you unless there is a real emergency." He took a breath, not wanting to discuss much of this now as he was too tired.

"Alright. You can do your poking about. Aziraphale, come here, please."

Aziraphale took his post up near Crowley's head as Anathema simply rested her hand on Crowley's arm, letting him get used to her touch.

"You're my guide here. Take your time and let me know when you're ready."

Crowley took a few deep breaths before reaching down to undo his belt and shimmy his waistband down a little. "Ok."

Anathema moved her hands around his low belly, gently pressing inward.

Crowley trusted Anathema. He let her touch his scales, but this was a level he was still not entirely comfortable with. He concentrated on the feel of Aziraphale's hand brushing through his hair.

"Oh!...hey!" Anathema was pressing a little firmer, very low and just under the waistband of his knickers. "Here, give me your hand. Feel this."

Crowley tried to still the tremble in his hand as Anathema took it in hers and brought it down to press deep below his waistband. All he felt was his skin and muscle and - oh.

"What's that?" He could feel something firm exactly where his uterus should be. Crowley had palpated many bellies in his day as a midwife, but felt clueless with his own body.

"You can just barely feel the very tippy top of your uterus here. It's not easy to find it by palpation this early in the game, but your build makes it a bit easier."

Something unraveled in Crowley and tears filled his eyes quickly. He swiped under his glasses and gulped in a big breath. "I need to sit up," he said as he zipped up his pants and pushed himself up to a seated position.

"Oh…I'm…I'm… so sorry…" Anathema sputtered.

"No, no, no. You didn't do anything wrong. The opposite, really. S'just very real." He held onto Aziraphale's hand. "These little things remind me that this is happening. M'not used to my body being able to do something like this. That's as scary as it is wonderful.” He took his glasses off. "We're also lucky to have a friend who happens to be a midwife."

Anathema wiped her own tear. She was touched by his vulnerability.

Crowley didn't want to be vulnerable for too long. "Right. How often should I see you?

"Well…" she began. "I wanted to talk that over with you both. Normally, people without complications would see me once a month up until the end of the third trimester, when we'd meet weekly. You don't have complications, but you're also…not like most people. I was thinking more frequent appointments might be best."

Aziraphale looked to Crowley for his thoughts.

"Agreed. I'd rather be here often. I…I just need to know everything is okay." He yawned. He couldn't believe how deep the exhaustion felt. He'd heard people talking about it during their pregnancies, but he never fully understood the scope of this until now.

"How about weekly? And I can also schedule that ultrasound for 3 weeks from now?"

"Weekly's good. Three weeks…ultrasound…good. Oh - I’m due in July, yes?”

“Yes, she said,” looking at his chart on the screen. Based on your conception date, which you know, your due date is July 9. As a midwife yourself, you know that they can come earlier or later.”

“First babies are notoriously late,” he said. He leaned forward onto Aziraphale. "Nap time."

Anathema looked to Aziraphale. "Looks like it's time to get this guy home to rest. His body is hard at work growing your family."

"Thank you, my dear, you have been most helpful, as always."

He braced Crowley as he slid off the table and dramatically slumped into him. "Folks in the waiting room will have quite the show if I walk out there carrying over 6 feet of sleepy demon in my arms."

"M'good angel. I can walk. Look forward to your call, book girl." He turned halfway through the doorway as he put his glasses back on. "And thank you."

The ride back to the bookshop was quiet save for the sounds of Crowley's soft sleepy breathing. Aziraphale looked over at him and felt completely overwhelmed with love and protectiveness. Anathema said he was doing hard work. That was certainly the truth, Aziraphale thought. They hadn't even known for two whole weeks, yet Crowley had already undergone so many changes while dealing with the sickness and exhaustion and bodily discomfort. He found a sense of amazement that this was only the beginning and there were so many more changes to go. He had no doubt that Crowley would weather it all beautifully and with the strength and tenacity that he admired so much in his demon. His beautiful, cranky, grumpy Crowley.

Stopped at a traffic signal, Aziraphale sighed and said to his soundly sleeping demon, "I love you so much. I love both of you so much. I continue to hope I am enough for you."

Aziraphale often thought of how Crowley never gave himself the credit he deserves and thinks of himself unworthy of good things. Aziraphale did not often think that he was vulnerable to the same thoughts about himself. He was aware, vaguely, but he didn’t allow his mind to think on it too much. As such, Aziraphale frequently viewed himself as needing constant improvement.

At the kerb in front of the bookshop, Aziraphale hopped out and opened the door for Crowley, offering his hand to the demon who had just stirred awake when they parked.

Crowley stretched for what seemed like a good 5 minutes before actually standing up out of the car. He took Aziraphale’s hand and let himself be guided out and walked to the door of the shop, the angel’s steady hand at his low back. On the doorstop, Crowley turned to Aziraphale and gave him a sweet kiss, holding his chin in his hand.

“I love you. We both love you. You are, as you always have been, enough.”

Aziraphale stood on the stoop for a moment after Crowley walked in. A simple tear began its journey down his cheek as he came to grips with the idea that his heart may actually explode with love.

Upstairs, Crowley had assumed his favorite position of lying face down on the sofa. Aziraphale pulled his shoes off for him and covered him with a blanket.

“D’we’ve’ny gumbrs?” came a mumble from the face buried in the sofa.

“I’m quite sorry, my dear. I thought we spoke all of the languages, but that is not one I recognize.”

Crowley turned himself a little and smiled. “Gummi Bears. We have any?”

“Oh, right. That was quite clear now that I think of it. I’ll go check.”

Aziraphale returned moments later with a very large bag of gummy bears. “You’re in luck. “ He handed them to a demon who found enough energy to rip open the bag and immediately shove a handful in his mouth. “I do believe those are meant to be enjoyed one at a time.”

Crowley looked at him with a raised eyebrow and shoved only a half a handful in this time.

"Crowley…chew…"

Crowley pointed to himself. "Snake. I don't think I need to remind you how well I can swallow…"

"Oh good Lord." He huffed “Would you like an actual lunch? I’m not sure if gummy bears would fulfill your nutritional needs at this time. “

“What would go great with these is..uh…ooooh those cheese toasties that Nina makes. That would hit the spot. “

“I could make cheese toasties here.” He’d have to leave Crowley to go across the street and he didn’t want to do that.

“I don’t want to leave you here alone.”

“Yes, you could - you make excellent cheese toasties.” Another handful of gummy bears down the hatch. “You also make me food non stop, watch me puke it up non-stop, and you deserve to get yourself a nice little treat over there as well. I assure you, me and my bear friends here will be fine.” Another handful.

“Get yourself one of your froofy little drinky things.”

“Very well.” Aziraphale could go for a froofy little drinky thing. And perhaps a slice of cheesecake. Or pie. Perhaps a muffin.

“I’ll be back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail, darling.” He planted a kiss on Crowley’s head. “Maybe save some gummy bears for dinner.”

“Mr. Fell!” Nina was happy to see him. “How is everything going with you and Mr. Crowley today?”

Aziraphale was aware of Mr. Brown sitting at a nearby table, hidden behind his newspaper, taking in the shop gossip.

“Very well, my dear. I’ve decided to pop over for just a moment to procure us some lunch. And maybe a cheesecake.”

“A whole cheesecake? Oh, I bet that’s for Mr. Crowley. ‘Bout time you fattened him up.” She winked.

Mr. Brown dipped the corner of his newspaper down and peered over at them.

Aziraphale put his fingers to his lips and then gave his order.

It wasn't long before Mr. Brown was standing next to him. "I'm delighted to see you, Mr. Fell!"

"Oh, how lovely, Mr. Brown. How are you?"

"I was just thinking about how I haven't seen you two in here recently. I do hope everything is alright in your shop. I noticed Mr. Crowley had to be helped out of the car this morning? Is he alright?"

What a line of questioning. Aziraphale was not normally as irritated by Mr. Brown as Crowley, but he didn't feel like being in the crosshairs today.

"Mr. Crowley is certainly quite fine." Aziraphale answered curtly.

"He didn't seem quite fine."

"I assure you there is no concern. Now if you don't mind.." Aziraphale was losing patience.

"Why, I haven't seen him around much at all recently. He's usually always slithering about."

"Mr. Brown…" Aziraphale warned, the politeness evaporating from his voice.

"Then today you had to practically carry him in. I know he likes to drink quite a bit, but being that knackered at such an early hour is cause for alarm." He tucked the folded newspaper under his arm.

Aziraphale doesn't know what snapped. He had three thoughts going through his mind at once. One - he really wished he gave Crowley a smaller bag of Gummi Bears as he was certain he'd find an engorged demon at home. Two - he'd quite like to throttle Mr. Brown or at least slap him with his own newspaper. Three - his upcoming froofy drink - a specialty maple and pumpkin spice concoction from Nina - smelled rather yummy. He mulled over the second thought. He could be polite, as he often was. He could be aggressive, but Crowley wasn't there to watch and that was unfair. He could pull a Crowley. He chose:

"Mr. Brown," he stamped his foot, "I've had enough!"

Everyone in the shop froze.

"You want to know where he's been?" He stepped uncomfortably close to Mr. Brown. "At our cottage, where I fuck him every day, every night, and twice in the afternoon." He stepped even closer, causing Mr. Brown to stumble backward.

"As to his needing help at the car this morning? We pulled over on our way home and I had his ankles to his ears so fast that he pulled his hamstrings."

He couldn't believe he said any of these things. How does Crowley do it so smoothly?

"I've had enough of your prodding.” He growled. “Do leave me alone." He finally remembered his manners. "I thank you kindly."

Obviously, he had chosen a combo of the three.

Mr. Brown sputtered. He’d never seen such an angry Mr. Fell. It was kinda sexy. "I-I'm-I'm sorry Mr. Fell. I can be quite forward. Please accept my apologies and I will trouble you and Mr. Crowley no more."

Aziraphale was immediately filled with guilt. He thought about a long-winded explanation or a kindly blessing - no…No! Mr. Brown had just insulted Crowley. Aziraphale told himself that, while he may have been harsh, he had a duty to put him in his place.

"I accept your apology," he said with his nose upturned. "My words may have been rather indelicate. I ask that you respect my boyfriend from now on." He felt a little badass. "I won't be as understanding or as kind in the future."

"Understood. Once again, I sincerely apologize for my behavior."

The two fussy men regarded each other with noses and chins up in the air until Mr. Brown slowly retreated to his table, where he slunk back behind his newspaper, which trembled in his shaking hands.

Aziraphale turned to Nina at the till. She was beaming at him. "Please accept my apologies, my dear Nina." He was embarrassed. "I should not have reacted in such a manner in your establishment. I don't know what came over me."

Nina placed two large bags on the table. "Good fathers protect their families. I think Mr. Brown learned a lesson today. As did you."

She pointed to the bags. "Extra cheese Toasties. One whole cheese cake. Four cream puffs. A loaf of my special asiago cheese bread. Assorted muffins. And some apple Danish." She pushed a drink carrier forward. "Don't forget your latte. And a ginger tea for Mr. Crowley. All on the house."

"Nina…I…"

Nina put up her hand. "You have brightened my whole week, Mr. Fell. Don’t argue with me - I won’t go down as easily as Mr. Brown,” she laughed. “Now, get these home and feed that lover of yours."

Aziraphale blushed. "Your generosity never ceases to amaze me, dear Nina. Thank you."

Aziraphale turned up his nose and puffed his chest as he walked by Mr. Brown.

The sounds of the toilet receiving Crowley's stomach contents rang in Aziraphale's ears as he walked up the stairs. Quickening his pace and dropping the bags down in the hall, he arrived at the open bathroom door to find Crowley hunched over and gagging.

"Crowley, I'm back." He took his usual station, rubbing his hands along his demon's back, trying to ignore the doomed Gummi Bears floating in the toilet. Why were so many whole and not chewed? Crowley...

"Never." Crowley spit into the toilet. "Never eating another Gummi Bear as long as I live, Angel." He spit again. “Those do not come up very well.”

“I don’t imagine anything would come up very well.” Aziraphale surmised.

“Oh, trust me, Angel. There’s a difference.” He stood up with Aziraphale’s help. “Anyway, did you get your froofy drink?

“Oh yes. We also have our toasties and a selection of treats. She also sent over a ginger tea for you.” He was buzzing to tell Crowley about his interaction with Mr. Brown.

“M’just going to freshen up, Angel. Meet you in the kitchen.”

Crowley brushed his teeth and rinsed his mouth. He sat on the toilet and wiped several times, checking the tissue each time. Everything was normal. He had begun experiencing an increase in discharge, which he knew was very normal for pregnancy, especially this early. The extra wetness, however, would leave him panicking that maybe something worse was happening. He felt the need to check constantly in order to reassure himself. He wiped three more times, just to be sure. He came up with a new thing to check as he stood up from the toilet. He reached his hands down to where Anathema had palpated earlier. He pressed in, nerves fluttering when he didn't feel anything at first, and then flushing with relief when he did. He could feel his uterus, very firm, full of life. Crowley noted to himself that this was another thing he could check just to be sure.

Once Crowley settled in for lunch, Aziraphale excitedly told him about his interaction with Mr. Brown.

Crowley was captivated. His amused eyes were wide and his smile was broad and goofy. “Angel! Wish I’d been there to see that.” He laughed. “You actually said, out loud and in public that you fuck me? Just like that?” He wheezed with his laughter and slapped the table.

“I did.” Aziraphale blushed.

Crowley hugged him. “I knew you had it in you. You old queen.” He gave him a sloppy kiss on the cheek. "I love you so much."

The rest of lunch was filled with laughter as Crowley demanded several retellings and a pantomime of Mr. Brown’s face.

Crowley laid down on the sofa with the remainder of his ginger tea - miraculously keeping its warmth - after lunch. He wiggled and turned around several times while trying to watch his shows. He couldn’t get comfortable as his trousers were feeling a bit snug. He felt more bloated after lunch.

Aziraphale noticed. “Is something wrong?”

“Can’t get comfortable. I think…I think my trousers are too tight.”

“Darling, your trousers have been too tight since…well, since trousers were invented.”

Crowley snorted. “They’re a different kind of tight now.”

Aziraphale miracled him into a pair of joggers and a plain black v-neck tee shirt that emphasized the swell of his chest and showed off his hair. Mmmm. His outfit was complete with a new pair of ducky socks. Black with little red devil ducks.

“Devil ducks? Really?”

“They’re stylish. Comfortable, my dear?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

The Crowley of a few weeks ago would have howled mightily if he found himself in joggers and ducky socks, he swears. Current Crowley was singing their praises in his sleepy mind as he drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Text

Crowley’s phone rang in the late afternoon, waking him from his nap on the sofa. Aziraphale had been in the armchair, reading one of his pregnancy books. Anathema’s name blinked on the screen.

“Answer it, please.” Crowley sat up. His heart was pounding in anticipation of this call. His whole body began to tremble.

Aziraphale moved from his armchair to the sofa, putting an arm around Crowley as he answered the phone.

“Hello, my dear.”

“Great news!” Anathema exclaimed.

“Oh that’s wonderful. Let me put on the speaker.” He mouthed, “good news" to Crowley, who let out the breath he was holding. “We’re ready!”

“You were at 1,368 the last time. Today, you are at 6,322. And, yes, you are still pregnant. I’m very satisfied with the way your numbers have risen and we can stop this test if you would like. “

Aziraphale and Crowley looked at each other with wide eyes and wider smiles. Aziraphale balled his fists and shook them in a happy gesture.

“Yes,” Crowley said. “Let's stop that testing. I see you next week?” His body felt flushed with relief over the result.

“Yep. You’re scheduled for next week.”

Crowley took a few deep breaths. He was so happy to hear those amazing numbers. More than Quadrupled! He could relax for a moment.

“Anathema, we were wondering,” Crowley began, “would you and Newt mind joining us at the cottage again? I need to finish some work in the garden and could use some friendly help.”

“You would be welcome to stay the night. Or two. Our guest rooms are ready!” Aziraphale added.

“We would love that. I actually have a few days off and we were just trying to decide what to do. We’d love a chance to stay over and to help.”

They exchanged more small talk and planned their visit before hanging up.

Crowley gave Aziraphale his usual relieved hug. ‘I’m really pregnant, he said.”

“That you are, my dear.” Aziraphale was incredibly relieved. More than that, he was overjoyed to see the happiness in his demon's face in this moment.

Crowley excused himself to head to the washroom. He legitimately had to pee, but he also checked himself several times with the toilet tissue despite just hearing good numbers. Crowley was always ready for another shoe to drop. It's the only way he truly knew how to be when faced with happiness.

In bed that night, Aziraphale brushed Crowley's hair back as they lay pressed up together on their sides, having just pleasured themselves next to each other. Aziraphale's cock rested up against the hair between Crowley's legs, which was soaked with the angel's spend - a request by Crowley that had brought the demon his 2nd and 3rd orgasm of the night.

"I'm glad I wasn't too exhausted for that."

"As am I." Aziraphale planted a big kiss on Crowley's head.

Crowley fidgeted with Aziraphale's curly little chest hairs. "Imagine all this when my belly is huge - cuddling, having sex." He pushed his belly out as far as it could go, which wasn't very far at all.

Aziraphale laughed. He pushed his own belly out. "Wait until we match." He joined Crowley in laughter.

"What if I crush you while riding you? What if you suffocate while I sit on your face?"

"That would be a mighty fine way to go, Crowley. I'd happily fill out that discorporation paperwork."

"I wonder what I will look like….when I grow."

"Oh, I imagine it all the time." Another kiss. "Gloriously round and heavy with our child. You'll be ravishing."

Aziraphale was looking forward to seeing Crowley's body change as their baby grew. He imagined him full and round and fleshy…mmmmm.

Crowley sleepily kissed him. "Can't wait."

Crowley's fifth week rolled along with the same ol' symptoms and new ones. Crowley's pelvis felt fuller and, at times, it almost felt like there was a tugging. His body was rearranging to adjust to this new life. He'd constantly check in the mirror to see if his belly looked different to match the near constant bloating and fullness he felt. Not yet. He still looked the same save for the chest and the overall glowy facial difference. His exhaustion was setting in much deeper and the nausea and vomiting were as persistent as before, but he still had enough of an appetite to quell the nutritional fussing of his angel.

His anxiety was at an all-time high. He began heading to the bathroom more frequently when he didn't even have to go. He would wipe and check, especially whenever he felt any wetness - which happened often due to his increased discharge and high sex drive - or any weird twinge or an inkling in his mind that he would think on over and over and over. He worried constantly that his own demonic body might hurt the baby. Or, that he'd be punished by having his baby taken from him.

Despite the challenges, the two of them were fully committed to chasing joy. They spoke openly about their hopes for their new family. They were happy to give Nina and Maggie little updates when they stopped by to drop off some baked goods. Crowley had put the little bodysuit and trouser set on a shelf in the bookshop wardrobe along with the Pooh and Piglet. He often opened the door just to look at them. Aziraphale read about parents taking "bump" pics and insisted Crowley do the same.

"I'll take one of you in the same spot each week - here and at the cottage - to document your growth. Hand over your phone, please." He had been insistent, despite Crowley protesting that he looked exactly the same. "Trust me, my dear, you'll thank me later. Phone."

They both enjoyed exploring different options for non-penetrative sex. Crowley had desperately wanted to work back up to being penetrated by now, but his brain had other plans and he was grateful for an understanding angel who was all too happy to support him and to experiment with him. They delighted in the time they took to re-explore one another's bodies and decide what works best while they navigated Crowley's needs and met Aziraphale's.

One early afternoon in the beginning of his fifth week found them both chatting on the sofa downstairs in the bookshop. Crowley was wearing joggers again - don't tell anyone. Aziraphale was looking particularly delicious and Crowley was feeling particularly hungry.

That's how he ended up straddling the angel's lap, tasting his lips and grinding against him. He realized that the soft fabric of his joggers allowed him to easily feel the large blessing in Aziraphale's trousers. The hardness of it felt unbelievably good rubbing on his clit and along his slit. He began to grind down on him and rode him like they were connected, holding the back of the sofa for leverage. The angel held onto his undulating hips as he licked along the demon's graceful neck and ground his cock upwards to meet Crowley's clit. The leather of the sofa squeaked under their frantic motions.

It wasn't long before the two of them were shivering against one another as their ecstasy ran hot through their bodies and their trousers became soaked.

That's how Crowley learned to appreciate joggers.

Later that night, an intense make-out session in bed led Crowley to roll on top of Aziraphale. He dropped his legs on either side of one of his divinely perfect thighs and quickly discovered that it felt very, very good on his clit. Crowley has worshipped Aziraphale's thighs in various different ways since their sexual relationship began (and from afar before that), but fucking himself on one was very new. He painted the angel's thigh with the slick and warm wetness of himself as he swayed his hips around and slid back forth. His entire cunt was on fire with pleasure as he rocked over the yielding flesh and felt the muscles underneath flex against him.

Aziraphale kept a hand gripped around his cock as the force of Crowley's riding caused it to slide up and down in his passive fist. The angel watched and moaned as Crowley cried out first, arching his back and closing his eyes as he rode the rolling sensation of his climax throughout his body. When the demon collapsed onto him, biting at his neck and lips, Aziraphale let himself go, thick cum streaking up against his belly and onto the demon's skin.

“Those thighs are miracles in and of themselves,” Crowley panted. “If I wasn’t pregnant now, I’d probably get pregnant just from thinking of your thighs.”

“How…how would that work?” Aziraphale asked through a laugh. He stroked his fingers along Crowley’s sweaty back.

“I don’t know. Just go with it. A good third of my brain is melted, I think.” So was his bladder. "Ughh this bladder," he whined.

In the bathroom, he kept up with his new ritual of wiping over and over again to check for any blood. He couldn't stop himself. He kept trying to stand up and stop, but he'd grab another wad of toilet tissue and check again. He checked nine times this go around, nearly clogging the toilet with tissue and making his skin feel dry and raw. When he finally stopped, he began pressing down on his pelvis, making sure he could still feel the reassuring firmness there.

Crawling back into bed, he couldn't help the look of exasperation on his face. Aziraphale noticed.

"What is it my dear? Everything alright?" Aziraphale propped himself up on his elbow.

"I can't stop checking," his voice cracked. He could feel the sting on the skin between his legs.

"Checking? What are you checking?"

"When I use the bathroom." Crowley's eyes searched the air. "I check for blood when I wipe. And I wipe over and over and over until it hurts.”

"Oh, Crowley." The angel drew him in for a hug. "My Crowley." He kissed his head and pulled the sheet over their shoulders.

"The anxiety just overwhelms me no matter how much I try to reassure myself or you reassure me or blood numbers look good. I feel like I have to keep looking over my shoulder. Like something is going to take this all away from me. "

Aziraphale listened. He stroked his fingers in circles along the part of Crowley's back where his wings would emerge on another plane.

“And I’m ruining this for you.” A hot tear slipped down the side of his face.

“Ruining this for me?” He looked into Crowley’s eyes. “How? How could you possibly ruin this for me, my darling?”

Crowley sniffed. “I want you to be able to be excited and happy and soak up all the good things that come with being a new father.” He sniffed again. “You constantly have to worry about me, whether it’s about me eating or all the sex stuff or my non-stop anxiety. We have a good time and then I ruin it by being scared.” He hiccupped over a cry. “I feel like we have this same talk over and over. I’m scared. You reassure me. I’m okay for a minute. And then I fall apart all over again.” A full sob broke out this time. “I fall apart. Falling, in some way or another, is all I’m good at.”

“We do have these talks often, don’t we? I don’t resent that, Crowley. It’s what you need. I am more than happy to give you what you need.” He trailed his fingers down the side of his torso until they rested low on his pelvis. “I am excited and happy to go through this experience with you - through all the highs and lows. It’s not meant to be perfect. Worrying is part of being a parent.”

“What if I fail at this?”

“I don’t believe you will. We will weather anything that comes our way, Crowley.” He cupped his hand firmly over their baby’s current home. “You know, last week, this baby was the size of a poppy seed. Now, they are the size of an apple seed. Can you imagine all of that growth in just a single week, Crowley? That’s thanks to you. You are doing such a marvelous job growing and protecting our baby. I imagine they are feeling splendidly safe and warm within you. It’s exhausting and hard work, but it’s the work you are doing so beautifully my darling.” He wiped several tears from Crowley’s face. “I will have this same talk with you over and over and over. I ask that you don’t hold it in when you need me. I’m right here.”

Crowley was silent for a while, letting Aziraphale’s words cut away at some of the fear. He thought of the science of their little baby. All of the cell divisions that have taken place so far. The foundation for an entire person being stitched together, cell by cell into tissue and then into organs. Their apple seed.

“Apple seed, huh?” He smiled. He bit back at his fear. “This is one apple I won’t allow to be damned.”

The very end of Crowley’s fifth week was spent at the cottage. On the way there, having just slipped back into his seat after pulling over to deposit his lunch along the edge of a field - a really lovely field, he was honestly sorry to have puked near it - Crowley looked over to Aziraphale and said, “I think I’m going to talk to Anathema about my limits.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Pregnancy gets very touchy feely. I want to be honest with her about some of what I’ve gone through and how that might affect the way I receive care from her.

Aziraphale smiled. “I’m very proud of you for that.”

Once at the cottage, Crowley made a bee-line for the bathroom before sheepishly skipping back under the watchful eye of the angel and slipping his shoes off by the door.

“Excellent, my dear.” He peered down his nose. “Even new shoes need to go in their proper spot in the house.

New shoes. Crowley was back in a pair of joggers and a simple long-sleeved shirt. He had felt especially bloated after breakfast that morning and whined about every clothing option. He whined even more when Aziraphale suggested a pair of trainers to go with his joggers. Crowley, instead, compromised on a pair of black on grey checkered Vans. With dark red bottoms. Custom. Wink.

After the bathroom, Crowley engaged in his favorite sport of the past week. Plopping face down into whatever soft surface was in front of him. It was the sofa in the sitting room at this time.

“Wa’me’up’whe’thr’hr’angl,” came the voice muffled in the leather cushion.

Aziraphale thought on this one for a moment. “Ah!! Wake you up when they are here!”

Crowley rolled over and smiled. “Someone has been using his demon Duolingo.”

“I’m am always striving to improve my Crowley translation services.” Aziraphale covered him with a blanket. “Anathema said they would text when they are about 20 minutes away. I’ll wake you then.”

Crowley was fast asleep. Aziraphale bustled about the cottage, fluffing pillows everywhere, dusting here and there, making sure the refrigerator and pantry was fully stocked. He draped a hand knitted throw blanket artfully along the edge of the guest bed. He placed a basket, full of yummy treats he knew they both enjoyed, on the nightstand. The guest bath was well stocked with fluffy towels, delicious soaps, and other niceties and necessities. When he was satisfied that everything was tip-top, he sank into an armchair in the sitting room with a book and a cup of tea.

As promised, Aziraphale woke Crowley up when Anathema texted. “Darling, they’ll be here in twenty minutes.”

“Mmmmm. Okay. Just another two hours of sleep and I’ll be fresh as a field of daisies, to quote my angel.” He closed his eyes.

“That’s lovely. Up we go, dear boy.” He assisted Crowley into a seated position, smiling as he pushed away the hair that was matted to one side of his face. “You are a vision, my dear. How do you want your hair?”

“I’m sure it’s fine as is.” He held up his phone and looked at his reflection in the black screen. “Oh.” He really missed being able to style himself. Of course, he could with a simple comb and maybe some mousse, but that would require moving his arms and he was simply too exhausted.

“Just make me pretty, Angel.”

“Difficult to improve upon perfection, my dear, but I will try my best.”

Crowley’s hair was back in his preferred style of recent weeks. Short all around the sides with the longer and wavy top bit draped over one side in a deep part. Crowley had begun referring to it as his “standard issue Queer hairstyle.”

“Let me hit the loo before they get here.” Crowley was, of course, going to check. Over and over and over again.

Both Aziraphale and Crowley stood together in the doorway as they greeted their guests with hellos from both and warm hugs from Aziraphale.

Newt looked Crowley up and down nervously. Anathema had told him the news after receiving permission from Aziraphale and Crowley. He was still unsure and stunned despite what he had been through already with these two.

“Right. You’ve never seen a pregnant guy looking person. And you’ve never seen me in clothes like this.” Crowley laughed. “These trousers are ridiculous.”

“You look amazing,” Anathema reassured as she slipped off her shoes and indicated to Newt to do the same.

Crowley started closing the door, but stopped and looked outside. “Oi! How did you two get here? Cab? Uber? Bike?”

“I…I drove,” a perplexed Newt answered.

“Where’d you park?” Crowley looked all around outside from the doorway.

“It’s right there!”

“Sorry, lad, I only see my car. Hi baby!” The Bentley purred.

Newt stood on the stoop in his Tardis socks and pointed. “The blue one. Right there!”

“Ohhhhhh.” Crowley slapped the side of his face.

Aziraphale groaned and Anathema giggled.

“I see now. I thought a small child dropped their toy outside. Didn't realize that was yours.”

Crowley closed the door and slapped Newt on his shoulder. “Never gets old, Mate!”

Aziraphale showed them to their guest room, taking the bags of snacks and goodies they had brought along with them.

“You two get settled and I’ll bring this to the kitchen. Then we can show you around so you can see how much we’ve done so far.”

“This room is gorgeous, you two. So cozy!” Anathema and Newt took in the charming guest room.

“Scream if you need us. See you in the kitchen,” Crowley said.

As they headed to the kitchen, Anathema and Newt ran into Crowley on his way back from the toilet.

“You look comfy,” Anathema said.

“Crowley rolled his eyes. “I’ve never felt so underdressed.”

“Bloated?” She smiled knowingly.

“Very. Funny bit that is. I’m still flat as a washboard down there, but I don't feel that way. Clothes feel awful. I’d rather be naked.”

Newt squeaked.

Crowley smiled. “It’s going to get a whole lot weirder as the months go on, lad.” He shimmied his shoulders. “Wait until these tits get big enough to shake around.”

The three of them laughed as they entered the kitchen, where Aziraphale had been arranging ingredients for supper. He and Newt had agreed they would cook together. Crowley had once again requested a nice Welsh cawl and Aziraphale had agreed to show Newt how he made it. “Passed on from real Welsh folk in centuries past,” he had told him when they made plans on the phone.

“Ready for a tour,” Crowley said, his hands at each of their backs. Go Crowley.

“Most excellent!” Aziraphale clapped. “Follow me.”

Aziraphale was in his element, showing off the various rooms and their design choices, noting when he had won an argument over a color or a drape.

“There’s my dark grey sofa. I compromised - originally I wanted black.” He pointed to the tartan sofa in the parlour and laughed.

“There’s grey in my tartan. It counts,” Aziraphale sniffed.

Crowley was delighted to hear the gasps of awe when he showed them his plant room. “Everyone, on your best behavior now. We have guests,” he said as they walked in. His plants stood tall, proudly showing off their leaves and fronds.

“You have one hell of a green thumb,” Anathema said.

“I just know how to talk to them. They like clear direction.” The plants shook as he walked by. Some time ago, Crowley would have known that they shook out of fear. Now, their shaking was more of a shimmy for joy as they sensed the new life within him,

Newt and Anathema murmured excitedly over the artwork throughout the house.

“Some of this looks so real - oh wait, it probably is,” Anathema said as she closely inspected a Da Vinci with an inscription to Crowley.

Newt regarded the wrestling angel and demon sculpture.

“Notice how the demon has the angel pinned,” Crowley said slyly.

“Notice how the angel allows the demon to believe he has the upper hand,” Aziraphale corrected him in a low voice, the flash in his eye immediately recognized by Crowley.

Aziraphale raised his eyebrows slightly and a small twitch of a smile appeared at one corner of his mouth.

Crowley felt a tingle dance through his body until it reached the now dampening area between his legs. He’d have to save that for later.

When they reached the nursery, Aziraphale beamed. “We fought over this room so much because we couldn’t agree on what to do with it. We now know this will be the nursery for the baby. All we need to do is settle on colors and little baby decorations.” He clasped his hands together.

“Which means more arguments,” Crowley added.

“You two fight a lot over the house, don’t you?” Newt asked.

“It’s all part of the process, dear,” Aziraphale explained as he led them back to the kitchen. “The fights may be vicious, but the sex is delicious.” He stopped in his tracks, eyes widened and a hand clasped over his mouth.

Crowley laughed loudly. “What did you just say? Aziraphale!”

Anathema and Newt laughed along with Crowley.

“You’ve got him out of his shell,” Anathema said.

“I’ve gone soft and this one is turning into a perv. Wait until he tells you about the coffee shop incident.”

Aziraphale collected himself. “Such a fine story will have to wait until we are all dining together. With that in mind - Newt! Ready to get to work?”

Newt joined him at the counter and it wasn’t long before they were washing their hands and prepping their work.

Crowley turned to Anathema, “Care to join me in the sitting room? Can I get you water? Tea? Coffee? Snacks?”

“I’d love to join you. Tea would be great.”

Crowley headed toward the stove for tea, but Aziraphale shooed him off. “Men at work here. I’ll bring your tea in a jiffy. Off you go now! Shoo!”

Anathema smiled warmly as she followed Crowley to the sitting room. He excused himself momentarily to visit the loo as Anathema sank into an overstuffed armchair.

When he returned, Aziraphale was placing a tray with tea and biscuits onto the coffee table. He snapped and the fireplace was lit with a small, cozy fire much to Anathema’s amazement. “If you need anything else, don’t hesitate to call upon us gentlemen in the kitchen.” He placed a kiss on Crowley’s cheek and winked at Anathema.

Crowley sat on the sofa. “He’s a pro at fussing.” He laughed.

Anathema looked around the room. “This house is so beautiful and the energy here is so calm and joyful. The amount of work you put into it in just a month is unbelievable. Well, considering the two of you, I guess it is believable.” She laughed softly. “Everything is so warm and inviting. Comfortable, too. And this fireplace is to die for.”

“It was one of the big selling points for us. Can’t go wrong with an original inglenook.” He looked around the cozy room, proud of the work they had done.

“How have you been feeling? You look bright and cheerful today.”

“I feel good right now, in this moment. I’m having a happier day.” He paused. “How is midwife life?”

“Great. We had a very busy October. Lots of babies last month. This week was pretty busy, too, and I am happy for a break.” She studied Crowley’s long fingers that were resting on his belly. “Would you tell me about your midwife life? When was that?”

“Oh, long, long ago, luv. Mostly in what they would call ‘Biblical’ times, but there is nothing ‘Biblical’ about my life. ‘Less you count the whole Garden of Eden and half the other demonic mentions."

“How does a…demon?…end up as a midwife?”

Okay. This was going to be a way for Crowley to segue into what he had wanted to discuss with Anathema. He took a very deep breath and pondered the many ways he could tell his story without frightening or overwhelming his friend. Friend.

“Well…demons tempt, yeah? Me? I don’t look like a lot of them.” Did that sound conceited? “I mean…well…I don’t mean that I’m…I’m not bragging….I just.”

Anathema modeled her breathing.

“Right” He took a few deep breaths. “I was very much tasked with temptation due to my presentation.. A lot involved things I didn’t understand at the time. Maybe the whole apple thing. And quite a lot was supposed to involve…physical temptation.”

He looked around the room and swallowed hard. “But I had things - very horrible things - done to me already at that point and knew I didn’t want to do that to humans.”

Anathema gave him a sympathetic look. He didn’t need to spell it out to her, she could put the puzzle pieces together.

“I convinced my…higher ups, I guess we can call them…that a great way to win souls for our M-Master was to get them when they were fresh and new. As babies. So…midwife it was. I found my way in with various midwives in tribes or towns or travelling groups and lived that life many times over.”

“So, you did something with the babies that would bring them to…to…your handlers? Your Master?” She couldn’t imagine Crowley, as fierce as he could be, doing anything to harm children.

“Well, I wasn’t very good at any of that. I never won a soul for him that way. I did, however, teach women - things were very gendered in those circles back then, for the most part - about their cycles, the ways to alter them, the ways to control fertility and -” he paused and looked at his hands - “the ways to end things…if…if they wanted. I gave them choices without damning them. Taught them to ask questions. In a way, that was a bigger insult to Heaven and Hell.”

“That’s very much in line with the history of midwifery.” Anathema said with a smile. “They never caught on?”

“I’m still here,” he grinned, his sharp teeth glinting in the firelight.

“Did you deliver a lot of babies?”

“Oh yeah,” he spread his long arms along the length of the sofa back and crossed his legs. “Loads of little wiggly newborns.” He frowned. “And loads that never took their breaths.” He paused, pressing down the fear that was creeping up on him as he remembered the wails of parents who beheld the lifeless.

“I stuck with it sometimes just because I could. I wasn't half bad.” He laughed, “Seems I don’t know shit when it comes to myself, mind.”

Anathema beamed at him. “That’s pretty common. I actually just delivered the baby of one of my fellow midwives. We were joking about how all of that knowledge and training goes out the window when it’s happening to you. I think that’s true of many professions.”

Her voice softened. “You always sound so kind, so reassuring when you are teaching or explaining something. I don’t think you realize that. I can tell that there is a lot you remember - your instincts are still there.”

Crowley was touched. He smiled at her, looking up through his lashes.

“Midwife to midwife, I hope I am a great caretaker and a great friend to you.”

“You definitely have been, book girl,” he said softly. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about - especially with all this midwife stuff.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” A few more calming breaths. “The thing I said about not wanting to tempt people…you know,” he lowered his voice, “sexually.” Another deep breath. “Because of wh-what was done to me.’ He looked into the fire, remembering long, gnarled fingers forcing their way into him…his own screams and pleading as his body was broken over and over.

Snapping back, he said, “You understand that I don’t like to be touched. It took an awfully long time for me to get used to it from Aziraphale, even. Because of what had been done to me. The nonstop violations. The fact that I’ve never had much control over my life or my body until now.” Tears began to form in his eyes.

Anathema wanted to hug him. “Can I sit next to you, Crowley?”

He shook his head yes. She sat next to him, hands in her lap, not pushing for anything more.

“I don’t know how good of a patient I’ll be.” He steadied his breathing. “I just want you to know if I don’t allow something that it has nothing to do with you personally. It’s all me.” He looked her directly in the eyes.

Anathema was taken aback by the way his eyes looked in the firelight and the fading late afternoon light. Eyes like that may be terrifying to some, but she saw someone very vulnerable, who just longed for connection.

“It may be of some comfort that one of my passions is trauma-informed care. It’s something that has been very important to me since I was studying to become a midwife. I have a lot of patients who see me for that very reason. I deal with victims of assault - sexual and otherwise - on a regular basis. Many of them have limits on what they choose to allow during exams and during the birthing process and I make sure I work within those limits.”

Crowley blew out a breath in relief. “I didn’t want you to think I was being rude or odd. Granted, I am rude and odd, but I didn’t want to be more so than normal for me. I don’t think I ever really thought about how all of that affected me until Aziraphale and I were able to truly be together and we started…uh….having sex. Pregnancy just triggers that feeling of not being in control of my own body.”

She instinctively reached for his hands and then pulled away. “That’s a very normal experience. Even people who haven’t experienced trauma like yours often struggle with the lack of control within their bodies. It can make connecting with caretakers or their partners challenging.”

“I’ve been feeling that lately. I feel so awful. He’s perfect and does everything right. He takes such good care of me. So eagerly. I have all of these fears that just chew away at me all day long. And he’s so understanding about it all….but, I can’t stop thinking that I’m a burden. “

“You are not a burden, Crowley. Not on anybody.” She instinctively reached again and then drew her hand back…again. “You can talk to me about it whenever you need.”

Crowley sighed. “I hope you don’t regret saying that,” he laughed. “I…um…I’m so afraid of losing this. I know part of that is normal. However, I’ve had so much taken from me in the past and this fear is unshakeable. All of a sudden, I can’t have sex. Well, we have sex, but I can’t deal with penetration. Suddenly.”

“Have you talked it over with Aziraphale?” She knew the answer was yes.

“All the time. And he is sooo understanding. It’s like we are starting out for the first time again. Exploring. Finding new ways to do it without actual fucking. Blah blah blah blah. It’s amazing and wonderful and I love it. But sometimes you just want to jump on a dick and ride it, right?”

Anathema giggled at his candor. “That actually sounds very healthy, Crowley. It sounds like you two are navigating it in a beautiful way together. I understand it’s not 100% what you want and that is very frustrating, but you can work with one another to get to that point again.”

“Some of it comes from a fear that he could hurt something because…well…” he pressed his hands together and then drew them far apart, indicating length. “I mean…impressive.”

“Crowley,” Anathema started, trying to hide her amusement, “Bodies are incredible at what they can do. And certain body parts are quite elastic and accommodating. As your midwife, I’m not personally concerned over that. So, on a physical note, maybe that is one fear we can put to rest. Then we deal with the emotional aspects that are gripping you. I think we’ve made a very good start so far.”

Crowley gave a shy smile. He couldn’t believe the kind of conversation they were having. Sure, he was used to making inappropriate quips here and there, but this was a level of intimacy he never experienced with anyone outside of Aziraphale. “Have you seen people like me work through trauma and overcome their fears?”

“Absolutely. It takes a lot of work and a lot of patience, but healing is very much a real thing. And I think you have done far more of that so far than you give yourself credit for.” She has always noticed that both he and Aziraphale are not very good at giving themselves credit.

He picked at his joggers and considered her words.

“You’re a midwife,” she began, “so you’ll understand this. You’re in the pushing stage of your healing. And what is the most frustrating thing to parents - and sometimes birth workers - about the pushing stage? Besides poop. I know you’re gonna say poop.”

He laughed. “Wasn’t.” He was. “Crowning. People think crowning is a one shot and then the head is out. But, the way it pushes forward and then goes back in and then comes forward again and then goes back - oh, right, yeah I see your point.”

“Exactly that. We know that baby is coming. The progress is happening. But part of that progress is the body resting and the head sinking back before pushing forward again. Everything is still moving forward, but those tiny steps back are an important part of the process. That’s where you are now.”

“That’s a good visualization. I’ll take it.”

He sighed deeply. He was thankful for his talk with her, though overwhelmed at all of the information and emotion he shared so freely. It would probably hit him later. He felt awkward about how to thank her. He looked at her hands, neatly folded in her lap. He had noticed her reach out a few times during their conversation. He reached out and took them in his. They were, after all, the hands that would help deliver his baby.

She gasped just a little. His hands were warm and his eyes were soft and inviting. There was her friend from the garden a month ago. She suddenly didn’t know what to say. She was very proud of her demon friend.

“Thank you,” he said. “For everything. I’m not good at this at all. The whole thanking and whatnot. I appreciate everything about you. Your friendship has been a light.”

“I’m very proud of you, Crowley. You’ve come very far. Please, please call me whenever you need to talk. Or text me if that’s more comfortable for you.”

They sat in silence for a moment. Too much silence. “It’s too quiet, Crowley said.”

“I hope everything is okay in there.” Anathema craned her neck toward the door.

“Do you think they died? I haven’t even heard a pan crash or a glass break.”

“Newt is actually very adept in the kitchen. He’s a totally different person when he is cooking. Out of the kitchen is a different story,” she laughed. “Should we check on them?”

The two of them crept down the hall to the kitchen, where they found two very happy chefs chattering about as they finished cooking their meal.

Crowley’s heart skipped several beats at the sight of his angel, happily buzzing about with their friend. Like two peas in a pod. They were working in unison, laughing, and blabbering about all things food and -

“Out of the kitchen, you two! Chefs only.” Aziraphale knew they were there without even looking. "This is sacred ground. Be gone demon…and lovely friend!"

Cracking up, Crowley grabbed Anathema’s hand and led her back to the sitting room.

She picked up her tea for the first time since they had initially sat down. “It’s still warm.”

Crowley winked. They chatted about light-hearted baby things. Crowley told her all about the little baby store in town and the outfits and Pooh and Piglet. They laughed together as he described Aziraphale carrying stacks of pregnancy books through the shop. Anathema offered advice on first trimester symptoms and talked about some of the recent births she had attended. Crowley felt all wibbly at the idea of childbirth.

Finally, the gentlemen entered the room and announced that dinner was served. Aziraphale headed out of the room, but turned back just in time to see Crowley pull Anathema in for a hug. His heart soared at the sight and he may have had a little tear in his eye.

Crowley made a dash for the washroom first. Aziraphale followed and waited for him. Crowley’s eyes lit up when he saw him standing there.

“You and Newt had fun, huh?”

“We certainly did. Such a fine fellow. You and Anathema?”

“I was able to tell her some very important things. She understands my needs.”

“Oh Crowley - “

Crowley swallowed him in a hug and kissed his ear. “I love you so, so much.”

“I love you, too. Maybe a kiss for my lips, too?”

Crowley obliged.

Dinner was full of lively and loud conversation and very, very good food.

The foursome were currently scream-laughing over Aziraphale’s re-telling of his incident with Mr. Brown.

“You did not!! Our own Mr. Fell said that out loud?” Anathema asked, shocked.

“You’re taking after Crowley,” Newt laughed.

“Give it some time and we’ll have him walking with the same swagger,” Crowley laughed.

“I’ve already got that down.” Aziraphale got out of his chair and imitated Crowley’s classic swagger, his hips swaying side to side in an exaggerated motion.

“No!” Newt laughed, getting up. “It’s more like this.” He tried his own version of Crowley’s walk, throwing his whole body into it as if he were very, very drunk. A valid attempt, but no.

Anathema joined in with her own hopeful interpretation, which was more 90’s fashion catwalk than anything.

Crowley howled and shook his head. “You lot are going to need much more practice and a lot less spine. Hilarious to watch, but nowhere near the original.”

With that, he got up - he had to pee anyway - and sauntered effortlessly as only he could down the hall to hoots and hollers from the other three.

“It’s hot when he does it for sure, but I think we all came pretty close,” Newt said as they dissolved into laughter.

Their conversation ran late and it was eventually time to turn in for bed. Newt and Anathema requested a walk in the morning with Crowley and Aziraphale to take in some of the surrounding nature before they came back to work in the gardens.

Newt told Aziraphale that he’d stay up and clean the kitchen with him to which Aziraphale replied, “Clean what?” Snap. “I don’t see a thing out of place. Nary a speck on a dish.” He smiled.

“Whoa,” was all Newt could manage.

After a short while, Aziraphale knocked on the guest room door. “Come in,” Anathema called. She was sitting on the bed, braiding her wet hair. Newt was in the shower.

“I just wanted to check in on you and say good night. Do you need anything?”

“Come here,” Anathema beckoned. She stood up and squeezed Aziraphale in a long hug.

Aziraphale sank into its warmth. “Thank you, my dear. Please let us know if you need anything during the night. I don’t sleep and Crowley sleeps heavily, so you won’t disturb us.”

“You don’t sleep?”

“No. I don’t actually need to. I like to stay up and read. And keep watch. Once a guardian, always a guardian.”

“That’s very interesting.” She finished her braid. “Aziraphale...if you ever need anything or if you need to talk, I’m here. We both are.”

Aziraphale gave her another hug. “Thank you so much, Anathema. We are so blessed by your friendship.” He bade her goodnight and left to join Crowley in the bedroom.

Anathema curled into Newt in their cozy guest bed. They had spent a bit of time debating whether they should make love or if it would be rude to do so. They were guests, after all. Aziraphale and Crowley would probably be offended if they didn't. They could be very quiet. Or maybe just do on top of clothes stuff.

As they drifted to sleep afterward, Anathema cried into Newt's neck. He asked her what was wrong and she responded, "The talk I had with Crowley. I can't explain it. Supernatural or not, I have never had someone like him as a patient or as a friend. The things he had to endure are incomparable. I don't know how he is still standing, let alone going through a pregnancy."

"That's love," Newt answered. "He has Aziraphale. Aziraphale has him. They've been guides and guardians to one another since…well, whenever they were born. They keep each other going."

Chapter Text

Crowley was sitting on the bed with his knees up to his chest.

"Ready to turn in?" Aziraphale asked, approaching the bed.

"I was hoping you'd join me for a late night bath. All that food has me bloated beyond belief. "

"I'd certainly love to join you."

The tub filled with water and lilac-scented bubbles as Aziraphale and Crowley undressed one another, slowly stealing kisses in the process.

Aziraphale carefully guided Crowley into the tub, holding onto him as he sank back onto the angel. He squeezed around the demon's hips with his thighs.

"Mmmm," Crowley moaned. "Don't tempt me with these." He stroked his hands up and down the wet thighs pressing against him. "The water feels so good on my back and my belly."

Aziraphale kissed the back of his head. "I'm glad you were able to open up to Anathema."

"It's not easy to be so…vulnerable." He sighed, waving his hands through the water.

"No. It takes a lot of strength, which you have in spades, my dear."

Crowley sank further into him, letting the angel's plush belly support his back.

Aziraphale wrapped his arms around him. He accidentally brushed Crowley's chest. "Oh dear. I am so sorry." He drew his hands away.

"'S'alright, Angel. They aren't as sore right now." He pulled his hands back. "You can feel them if you'd like."

Aziraphale gently rested his hands over the swells of Crowley's chest. Slowly, he moved over them, feeling the slight fullness, cupping them ever so tenderly. They felt so good in his palms. The sight and shape of them made him feel a certain way. He rolled his thumbs around the swollen areola and then over the nipples as Crowley let out a pleased sigh.

He was extra sensitive there - in a good way. He looked at the angel's strong hands gingerly fondling his chest and wanted more. He took one of his hands and guided it downward towards the warmth between his legs.

"Please touch me here." His voice was raspy and desperate.

"Are-are you sure?"

"Very. Please."

Aziraphale's fingers moved with precise caution, tracing the outer lips, which drew a whine from the demon.

"Mmmmm. Kinda hot to have to be quiet."

"Indeed." The angel parted Crowley's outer lips and explored along his inner folds, circling carefully around his opening before moving up to his clit. Even in the water, he could feel Crowley's own slick wetness. He nibbled at the demon's neck before sucking at the flesh there. Marking him.

Water splashed as Crowley rolled his hips into Aziraphale's nimble fingers. His breathing was rapid. It had barely been two minutes and he was ready to explode from the pleasure at his center and at his neck. He bit his lip to stop a cry. Aziraphale bit him on the other side of his neck and then sucked along the same spot. Crowley grabbed the edge of the tub with one hand. His skin was covered in gooseflesh as his nerves fired off one by one.

"Aziraphale," he whispered. His chest heaved, rising and sinking in the water. He was desperate to cry out. His mouth opened as only breath passed through, swallowing any sound that tried to escape. His mind swirled at the pleasure. He reached back with his free hand and grabbed at Aziraphale's hair as he focused on the feel of the angel's fingers rubbing at his clit. The pleasure built up between his legs. Water continued to splash as his hips rolled faster and his chest heaved even more. He shut his eyes tight as Aziraphale's hand worked faster. His mouth opened in an empty scream while his climax burst forth, leaving him gripping the tub and the angel's hair. Aziraphale's lips worked along his neck.

"Again," he breathed. "Do it again."

"My pleasure." Aziraphale obeyed and circled his fingers along Crowley's clit again. He quickly worked at it with his index finger, letting his middle finger drape down between folds, the rapid motion teasing them and his hole, which was apparently all Crowley needed before he was pressing his back into Aziraphale, muscles straining into the angel's belly, his hands back to gripping the tub and Aziraphale's hair as the shivers from his orgasm spread up and down his body.

"Very nice," Aziraphale said, dropping a kiss to the demon's shoulder.

"Just one more," Crowley panted.

"Mmmm aren't we greedy tonight?" Aziraphale kissed along his ear, making the demon softly whine. "It's a good thing I enjoy indulgence."

He glided his fingers up and down Crowley's slickened folds. "My, someone is so worked up, so wet, so slippery."

He worked his mouth along Crowley's neck, smiling into it as the demon tried so hard to suppress his moans. His hand moved expertly along Crowley's pussy, working his fingers back to the hardened bud of his clit, circling and rubbing slowly back and forth.

Crowley pressed his shaking thighs against Aziraphale's, spreading his legs more. He rocked into the angel's hand as water splashed out of the tub. He tightened his grip on the tub's edge as another orgasm quickly built. He let go of Aziraphale's head, grabbing his free hand instead. He held it against his chest, their fingers interlaced as he squeezed while the force of his third orgasm pressed through him. A small cry escaped his lips and he hoped no one else in the house heard it. He felt as if he was going to slip under the water from his head being dizzy with pleasure.

"Angel…" he gasped. He turned and craned his neck to receive a deep, long kiss from Aziraphale, whose hand still rested between Crowley's legs.

Crowley moved to turn the faucet. "I need a little cool water. I'm sweating." He laughed.

Aziraphale snapped and the water turned on. "I have you, my dear." He pulled Crowley close and tight to him, kissing behind his ear. They rested together while Crowley caught his breath. Aziraphale placed light kisses on the back of Crowley's neck.

"And now I'm cold." Crowley laughed.

"Let's get you out." Aziraphale guided Crowley out of the tub and began to dry him off.

"Go lay on the bed and wait for me. No clothes. I'll be out in a moment after I use the toilet ."

Aziraphale wrapped a towel around himself and did as he was told.

Crowley checked himself several times once Aziraphale had gone. It was the first time in weeks that Aziraphale had touched him there and the resulting orgasms were driven as much by emotion as physical stimulation. They were so strong. Crowley wanted to check to be sure everything was safe. He wiped until it stung. He took his deep breaths and walked out of the bathroom.

Aziraphale was sitting cross-legged on the end of the bed, twirling his ring around his finger.

Crowley stood in front of him and tipped the angel's chin up in his hand, leaning down to kiss him. Aziraphale ran his hands along Crowley's backside.

"Up on the bed all the way - lay down."

Aziraphale followed the direction, laying back on the pillows, his delicious body spread out for Crowley.

Crowley climbed onto the bed and crawled between Aziraphale's legs, spreading them open so he could sit between them. "Just getting a little worship in first," he said as he stroked and kneaded the plush thighs with their still-damp creamy skin.

"Do you remember," Crowley began, "those times we had phone sex?"

"Of course." Aziraphale was melting under the hands of his demon. He was eager to see what was next. Their forays into phone sex had been arousing to say the least - once Aziraphale was able to let himself go and not feel foolish.

"How could I forget?" It had been the first time he ever came in his pants. He learned to be okay with that very quickly, opting to not fuss that a certain demon wasn't there to "blow" the stain away.

"You certainly know how to use your words." His voice was beginning to shake.

"Mmmm. And your imagination worked so well, didn't it?" Crowley continued massaging his belly and his thighs.

"Yes, yes it did."

"Felt like I was right in the room with you." He leaned across him and licked the angel's lips. "Inside you. You were so loud. Practically had to hold the phone away from my ear." He nibbled an earlobe.

Aziraphale gasped as the words ignited sparks in his skin. "Oh…Crowley…"

"Shhhh. We have guests, dear. Wouldn't want to wake them." He nipped at his neck. "It's a shame you have to stay quiet." He licked him from his collarbone, up his neck, and to his mouth, pushing his tongue in. "Because you're going to want to scream."

Aziraphale's breath shuddered.

"Before I get ssstarted, I owe you thissss," he hissed into Aziraphale's ear before licking and then sucking a spot on the angel's neck. Aziraphale writhed beneath him. "Now we match." The last syllable rang in the angel's ear.

Crowley sat up between Aziraphale's legs, hands firmly on his thighs. He eyed the hardness at full attention between them and licked his lips, his tongue just slightly longer and a little bit forked, the most he could muster up in his pregnant state.

"Get on your hands and knees, Angel." He moved to allow Aziraphale to turn over, flicking his tongue at him.

"Holy fuck," Aziraphale whispered when he noticed the tongue.

"Nothing holy about thisss," Crowley hissed at him.

"Now, let's sssee how well that imagination works. He fanned his hands all over Aziraphale's back, letting them glide over curves of soft and sumptuous flesh. “Might want to hold onto the headboard.”

Aziraphale gripped the headboard. His heart was pounding out of his chest. He wasn’t sure what was in store for him, but he was more than willing to be at the mercy of this demon.

Crowley continued to run his hands all along his back until he moved them down to the lush mounds of the angel’s ass. He buried his fingers in the flesh. Mmm cake. He leaned down and kissed one of the cheeks and then bit it, bringing forth a desperate gasp from the angel. He repeated the same on the other side, his sharp teeth leaving red marks on the skin. He licked a line along the crack, making Aziraphale’s ass shake, the skin vibrating like a leaf in a storm. His mouth landed at his lower back, where he dropped kisses up each vertebrae…up, up, up to his neck, his tongue lapping at his skin.

Aziraphale could barely figure out how to breathe evenly. He was shaking and he lost faith that his strong legs and arms would be able to hold him up. The demon’s forked tongue was waking up every atom in his body. He whimpered lightly.

“Ssshhhhhh.” Crowley lined his hips up at Azirphale’s ass. He leaned up, grabbing the cheeks and spread them. “Remember when you were too shy to get into this position? Mmmm. Now look at you. Letting me spread you open. Such a slut for me.” He slipped his fingers along the divide between Aziraphale’s cheeks, running them up and down, teasing at the opening there.

Aziraphale gripped the headboard with enough force that he thought he may break it. He reached one hand down between his legs to touch his pulsing cock.

“Uh uh,” Crowley warned. “We can’t have that. Both hands on the headboard. Good angels follow the rules.” He gripped Aziraphale’s hips. “Now, I want you to sink into that glorious imagination of yours. No noise. Keep your hands where they are. Understood?”

Aziraphale shook his head and kept his hands on the headboard.

“Good, Angel. Very good.” He spread his cheeks again. “Look at that hole. So pink. So tight. I bet you’d love to feel the thick head of my cock pressing into right now. Wouldn’t you?”

Aziraphale’s skin zapped. He nodded his head. He so desperately wanted to be fucked. He could just imagine the head of Crowley’s dick sitting up against his hole, ready to press in.

“Can you feel it?”

The angel nodded and let out a small moan.

“Sssshhhhh. We have guests. Feel me, Aziraphale. Let yourself feel my skin up against that hole, hot and hard and pressing into you.” Crowley’s thighs were getting damp and his clit was throbbing. He ground into Aziraphale’s ass. “Feel me open you up. Oooh, just a tiny bit. Does it sting, Angel?”

It was working. Aziraphale could feel the sensations of his hole yielding to Crowley’s cock - the small sting he always felt when he was first breached. He sucked in a breath. “I do feel you,” he whispered. “I do.”

“Mmm. I’ll be gentle. Slow. Do you feel that sticky, wet lube? Helping me glide in. Open up for me.” He continued grinding into the supple flesh, his hands steady and strong on the angel’s hips.

Aziraphale nodded. He moved along with Crowley’s grinding, which caused his cock to swing up against his thigh. He felt a drop of pre-cum on his skin.

“Ssssslooooooowww. Let me inside. “ He leaned over the angel’s back kissing his shoulders and the back of his neck as he ground into him. His own wetness was growing, making the hair near his opening slick and soaked. He imagined his lubed up cock, slipping into his yielding angel. His clit responded to the image.

“Feel the relief as I push past that tender muscle of your rim, the head finding it’s way further in. Can you feel your hole clench around my shaft?"

Aziraphale wasn’t sure if he had his eyes shut or if he was about to black out. Either way, he was responding to the sensation of Crowley’s cock pushing through his ass, his puckering hole squeezing against it. The nerves in his hole were awake, responding. He felt the deep ache within him, yearning for Crowley to be buried as deep as possible inside. “Crowley,” he whimpered. He was going to lose the quiet game.

“Sssh, Angel.” He pressed his thumb against Aziraphale’s hole and smiled as he watched the angel’s knuckles turn white and his back muscles tense. “Feel your ass stretch as I fill you with the thick length of my cock. Alllll the way in now.” He pressed his hips firmly against Aziraphale’s ass. “Oh that feels so good to me, Angel. Your tight hole gripping my cock, pulling me in. So warm. So wet with lube. It slides so nicely, doesn’t it?”

Aziraphale was almost afraid to breathe, lest he let out the cry that was clawing at his chest to escape. He pushed his hips back against Crowley.

“Yesss. That’s it, Angel. You want to be fucked. You want me to pound into you so you can feel my cock slide in and out. My head popping out and back in again. Mmmm. That must feel so good.”

“It-it does. Fuck me.” He felt more pre-cum drip onto his knee.

Crowley thrust against the angel’s ass and watched the reverberations of his skin with each pounding movement. He felt his wetness drip down his inner thighs. His clit was a hard nub, sparking in pleasure as Crowley bounced his heat against the angel. He was going to cum from this. He could feel it build as he watched all of Aziraphale’s flesh shake and turn different shades of pink. His shoulders and neck were scarlet. He pounded him exactly as if he was fucking him, as he has done thousands of times.

Aziraphale clawed at the headboard. He clawed at his own head. He clenched his eyes shut. His cock was swinging between his legs, hitting his thighs, pre-cum flying. He was filled with the sensation of Crowley’s dick pounding its way into his ass. He could feel the glide of his foreskin and the way the head felt as it edged against his hole with each pull out and thrust in. Crowley was pounding into him hard, leaving his thighs to brace him and hold him steady. He missed this so much. He would never want to change their current configurations, not with what it has brought them, but he admitted that he has missed getting fucked so much and this visualization was much-needed.

Crowley pressed his middle finger against the soft spot at the back of Aziraphale’s taint and watched as the angel punched the headboard, his head arching back, mouth gasping for air, a silent scream being pushed out of him. “Someone’s prostate just got a nice hit, hmmmm?” Crowley centered his thrusts, his pubic bone over where his finger was pressing into that magic spot on the angel.

Aziraphale felt electric shocks course through him, originating from his prostate. He was lost in his imagination, fully fucked by his demon’s cock as it wrecked his hole without mercy. He was about to break into pieces. His entire body began to tremble - he likely couldn’t handle much more.

“There’sss much more. You’re doing so well.” Crowley kissed along his spine, slowing his thrusts. He wasn’t done with the angel and he needed to slow his own building orgasm. “How ‘bout we change it up.”

“Please,” the angel begged, “please.” He needed release.

“Might want to put your head down in the pillows and hold on. Remember, we have guests.”

Aziraphale collapsed his upper body into the pillows.

“Keep this hot ass of yours up for me and spread your legs.”

Aziraphale did as he was told. He was face down in the pillows, his back arching upward toward his round ass, up in the air, his thighs spread, shaking as they struggled to hold him up in that position.

Crowley kissed him down the back of his thigh, nipping here and there as he traveled down the calf and to his foot. He repeated in reverse on the other leg, ending at one delectable ass cheek. The view of the angel’s hard cock, twitching and dripping cum as it swung between his legs made Crowley’s mouth water. Everything between his legs was throbbing. His clit was hard and desperate to be touched. “Are you ready, Angel?”

“I’m at your mercy,” Aziraphale whispered.

“My kind doesn’t deal in mercy.” He spread the angel’s cheeks and buried his face between them, flicking his tongue out to lap at his hole.

Aziraphale sucked in a long breath. Fiery pleasure centered down low at his ass. He could feel the way the forked end of Crowley's tongue circled around his rim. Oh, he was not going to be able to stay quiet. He gripped the pillows and buried his face down into one. How he had missed the feel of that particular tongue on his body.

Crowley kissed his hole - his lips softly caressing the flesh there. He was gentle in that moment, humming softly, feeling it relax at his touch. He felt the tremors in muscles as his hands held onto Aziraphale’s ass. He painted wide, slow, long licks over the hole. “Shhhh,” he hissed onto his skin as the angel softly cried before he went back to broad licks. When he felt that Aziraphale was relaxed, he trailed the tip of his tongue round and round the rim, it’s forked shape adding an extra layer of texture to his movements.

Aziraphale groaned into the pillows. He felt so vulnerable and exposed. So filthy. So sinful. He loved every moment of those feelings. His hole felt warm under Crowley’s touch, but also cool as the air hit saliva, which was running down to his taint. He took slow and steady breaths to stem his whimpers. Everything in his body was ablaze with sensation.

Crowley pointed his tongue toward the center of Aziraphale’s hole, the pink tightness now relaxed and able to receive an internal surprise. He stuck his tongue in and slid it out. And then farther. Aziraphale squirmed in front of him. He knew the angel was very close by the way his breathing changed and his thighs twitched. He pulled his tongue out and playfully nipped at the inside of one cheek before returning to fucking his hole.

Aziraphale was being fucked. Fucked. He wanted this so bad. Crowley’s long - longer than usual tongue - explored his depth and made everything from his waist down quiver. How he had longed to feel like this for the last few weeks, utterly submitted to his demon, used. He felt freed in his submission. “Crowley, I’m…” he felt the pre-cum drip faster, trickling down the side of his thigh to his knee.

It felt good to dominate Aziraphale, but Crowley also felt that he was in happy service to his lover. He’d been so needy recently, and he knew Aziraphale loved that, but being able to top him like this and bring him pleasure was something they both needed.

He continued to fuck him with his tongue until he knew the angel couldn’t hold it any longer. Neither could he. It was time for his big moment, he thought, as Aziraphale dutifully stifled his cries into a pillow.

He reached between Aziraphale’s legs and held onto the throbbing cock - he could feel the twitching of his nearing climax. Aziraphale gasped and tore at a pillow. Crowley pulled Aziraphale’s cock backward towards his taint, very verygently, and gave one long, broad lick from the tip of the head all the way back over the balls and taint, to his crack and over the hole. Aziraphale’s legs gave out. He did it once more and enjoyed the sound of Aziraphale screaming into a pillow and ripping at a sheet. Hot, sticky cum coated his hand and he quickly reached back toward the center of his own legs, but his orgasm burst through before he even touched himself, leaving him moaning against the yielding flesh of Aziraphale’s ass.

Aziraphale was stunned at what Crowley had done. That was a new move - pulling his dick back like that. His mind felt like a billion grains of sand vibrating on a soundwave while he submitted to orgasms that originated from his cock and from whatever the hell Crowley was hitting with his tongue. His muffled screams into the pillow sounded miles away and he hoped their guests didn’t hear them…but he was also slightly turned on at the idea of that actually happening. He blushed at himself. Panting, he picked his head up off the pillow to find that he had ripped one of them. His hand felt a bit sore from punching the headboard. His ass was thoroughly soaked and well-used.

Crowley was still down there, resting his head on one luxurious cheek. Aziraphale stayed like that, soaking up the pleasure and emotion of what had transpired since they came to bed. Between Crowley letting himself be touched like that again to the demon topping him in such a debauched way, Aziraphale was thoroughly blessed and sated.

Crowley shifted to lay atop Aziraphale's back. He was soothed by the motion of his body as he breathed. He was so happy. This had been the most intense sex they'd had in weeks and he was content and comfortable and - fuck. Orgasms always meant he'd have to pee almost instantly. He rolled off Aziraphale with a groan.

"Don't go anywhere, angel."

"I couldn't if I tried." He was well-worn in that moment, still unsure if he had a body.

Crowley checked and checked and checked in the washroom. Just in case.

Looking in the mirror as he washed his hands, he flicked his tongue. Oh fuck, his tongue.

He burst out of the washroom door. "Oh fuck, my tongue!"

"Oh fuck, that tongue is right, my dear." Aziraphale was still face down.

"No….I thought I turned it back. I thought I did. And…" he flicked it out.

Aziraphale turned his head. "Well, that's inconvenient."

Crowley sat back down on the bed. "It's ssstuck. My baby is going to have a sssnake mum….dad, whatever. He kept flicking it."

"I can help with a miracle if it doesn't go back." Aziraphale stifled a laugh at the sight of Crowley, frantically flicking his tongue while trying to look down at it, making his eyes cross. He managed to summon enough strength to sit up.

"Ith not thunny!" Crowley squealed with his tongue out.

Aziraphale couldn't hold back. "No, not at all. What will we tell people? 'Oh, it got stuck like that when he was eating Mr. Fell's ass.'" His entire body shook with laughter.

Crowley joined in and soon the two were howling. "Shhhh. Shhhh! We're not alone."

"Do you think they heard us?"

"Just now? Probably."

"No…during." Aziraphale blushed and twisted his fingers together.

Crowley snorted. "Oh they heard you for sure. Pillows didn't do sssshit with those moansss."

"Crowley!"

"Come on, Angel. I doubt they heard it. Hopefully, they have been having their own fun."

"Here? In this house?"

"We're not prudes. They're on a getaway in a beautiful cottage in the sublime South Downs. We always do it when we take a holiday. I personally hope they feel comfortable enough here."

"I suppose you're right."

Crowley sniffed. "I usually am."

Aziraphale rolled his eyes and dramatically dropped back onto the pillows. The stuffing flew everywhere. Shocked, he sat up and looked to where he had been writhing not even a half hour prior.

"Aziraphale," Crowley cracked up. "What on Earth did you do? He picked up a second ripped pillow. "You got the sheet, too," he pointed to a rip in the sheet. "And…" he picked up the angel's hand and kissed it, "...how's your hand?"

Aziraphale shook it. "Right as rain." He snapped and the sheet was repaired and the pillows were as intact and fluffy as ever. He laid back and held out his arms for Crowley. "Come here."

"Nope. Back on your belly. I'm not done." He waited for Aziraphale to flip over. Straddling his back, he began to massage Aziraphale's shoulders.

Aziraphale relaxed into the massage. He could almost doze off if he let himself. He discovered a new favorite sensation. The feel of Crowley's bare ass sitting atop his and his damp cunt pressed against him as the demon kneaded into sore angelic muscles.

Crowley massaged Aziraphale's entire body before laying down and beckoning the angel to lie on top of him. Aziraphale was careful not to place all of his weight on Crowley.

"Please, Angel. You won't hurt usss. I need to feel you on top of me. Let go." He happily accepted the full weight of his angel as they were pressed together. He felt safe and warm and in total bliss.

They kissed gently and whispered to one another for what felt like hours. Aziraphale lay his head on Crowley's chest, minding any tenderness. Crowley kissed his head and held him tight, finally dozing. He'd worry about his tongue tomorrow.

His tongue was the last thing on his mind as he knelt before the holy altar of the loo the next morning. "Please tell them I'm so sorry. I'll be there when I can." He heaved.

Aziraphale rubbed his back and stroked his hair, tucking it back to keep it out of Crowley's eyes as he vomited. "They understand, dear."

Newt was happily cooking up breakfast in the kitchen. Anathema was sipping on tea.

Aziraphale had gotten up just before Crowley to put the kettle on and let them both know that Crowley would likely take a while to come into the kitchen after he woke.

"He gets sick all day, but mornings are the most rough for him." He explained to the understanding couple.

Crowley poked through the wardrobe after he showered, shuffling through some pre-arranged clothing items that Aziraphale had miracled for him. "Think I'll just wear a jumper. Winnie the Pooh style. I can't let trousers touch me."

He walked in front of the mirror and ran his hand down his belly. "Not a single change, yet I feel like a balloon." He stuck his tongue out and found that it had gone back to normal.

"Oh, that's all sorted." It must have gone back on it’s own overnight. Or, Aziraphale worked a miracle as he slept.

He settled for a burgundy jumper and a pair of softer black jeans that Aziraphale managed to make fit slightly better around his waist. His snake belt gently slipped through the loops of the jeans, careful not to hug him too tight.

They made their way to the kitchen and were greeted by cheerful "good mornings" by their guests.

"How did you sleep?" Anathema asked, stifling a yawn.

Aziraphale coughed.

"Not terrible. Not the best. We were up very late. Pillow talk and all that," Crowley answered, not stifling a full yawn.

Anathema bit her lip to stop the knowing smile from spreading.

"Uh huh," Crowley smiled. He pointed to Anathema and looked at Aziraphale. "Yeah. They heard."

Anathema laughed. “Heard what? We didn't hear anything. I swear.”

“The lady doth protest too much,” Crowley laughed.

Aziraphale dropped the sugar cube he intended for his tea. It rolled under the table.

“I just recognize a post-coital…so to speak…glow. That's all.”

Aziraphale dropped the sugar cube he had just picked up off the floor. It bounced off his seat. He squeaked. “Uh. I hope you both had a restful night.”

Crowley laughed as he looked over at Newt. “Look at the goofy look on this lad’s face. Speaking of post-coital glows.”

Newt dropped the spoon he had been holding. “Wh-what? We…uh…” He, too, squeaked.

“You two!” Crowley said, gripping at his chest and feigning offense, “in our good Christian home? We have an angel in our midst. So pure, so holy. He doesn't even know how babies are made. We can't have guests fornicating!”

Aziraphale and Newt sputtered together, dropping things, while Crowley and Anathema laughed.

Once calmed, breakfast was lovely. The only awkward moment was when Crowley leaned over to Newt and said, “This is delicious. Please don't be offended when I puke it up later.”

Before heading out to explore the Downs, Crowley pulled Aziraphale into the bedroom. He began to unbutton his waistcoat.

“Crowley! They are waiting! We can't fool around now!” He tried to move Crowley's hands from his buttons.

“I’m not fooling around, Angel. I’m just getting you out of the nineteenth century.”

“I beg your pardon?” He slipped his waistcoat off with Crowley's help.

“Nature walk. In those shoes? A two hundred year old frock? Aziraphale, if a cricket so much as jumps in your general direction you'll whine about your specially tailored clothes.”

“I like my clothes.” He protested.

“I love your clothes, Angel,” he said softly, “they’re you. And I don't want to change a thing about you. So please don’t take it that way. I just thought maybe you can match me a little bit. Just for the walk. You know? Jumper. Trousers. Boots. In your coloring, of course.”

Aziraphale sighed. He secretly enjoyed the times when Crowley would try to dress him. “Oh, alright! But don't make a habit of it.”

“I wouldn't dare.” Crowley smiled. He poked through the wardrobe and pulled out a gorgeous pale blue Aran jumper - these two love an Aran jumper. "This is nice." In the end, he had Aziraphale in a jumper, trousers very much like his usual, only slightly more appropriate for their walk, and a nice pair of walking boots.

"You look cozy."

"I feel naked without my bowtie."

"Naked angels are my favorite." Crowley laughed to himself.

They joined Anathema and Newt, who were waiting for them in the sitting rooms, rucksacks filled with water and snacks ready to go.

"Get ready, boy, you're about to sit in a real car," Crowley slapped Newt on the shoulder as they began to pile in the Bentley.

They arrived at Devil's Dyke, the destination chosen because Crowley loves the name.

Anathema and Newt absolutely would not, no exceptions, allow either Aziraphale or Crowley to carry a rucksack.

They admired the views of rolling hills and countryside, Crowley insisting they visit in the warmer months when the wildflowers bloom. They explored trails, said hello to many dogs and quite a few cows. It was a beautifully mild November morning and they enjoyed the fresh air and bright sunshine.

Crowley and Aziraphale stayed a few paces back at times, watching Anathema and Newt steal kisses, hold hands, and lean on each other as they walked. Aziraphale would be quite happy to share that this gave his heart a warm and fuzzy feeling. Crowley would glare and set his lips if you asked, refusing to admit that he felt the same.

They sat down for a snack and water break and made a decision that they would luncheon in Brighton when they were done with their walk. Crowley had been non-stop nauseous their entire walk, but his stomach behaved and he never had to give up his breakfast.

Aziraphale produced a tin from his pocket. "These may help. They're lemon."

"Travel sweet?" Crowley grumbled and rolled his eyes as he popped one in his mouth. He laid back in the grass and removed his sunglasses while he rolled the sweet in his mouth, letting the sour tartness take away about sixteen percent of his nausea. He closed his eyes and basked in the warm sunshine, enjoying the lovely breeze that had just picked up around him. He felt very much like a sunbathing snake in the grass.

He looked very much like a piece of artwork. Aziraphale, Anathema, and Newt all looked at him in silence, each one overtaken by the beauty of the creature in front of them. The contrast of his red hair against the still-green grass and the sunlight highlighting the depth of the color in his locks. Light shone through his lashes and washed over his freckles, making them more pronounced. When he peeked at them for a moment, the sun hit his golden eyes at just the right angle, making them look like two polished gemstones. Newt even gasped.

Aziraphale, also overtaken by the beauty of his lover as always, felt the swell of pride that he usually feels - that this gorgeous being belonged to him, that they belonged to each other. He'd been chosen by him. A newer swell of pride built in his chest - this stunning beauty was carrying his child, who chose them both and who also shone as a light just like Crowley's eyes. A vision wandered into his mind of Crowley laying in grass just like this, laughing as he held a happily squealing child up in the air above him. Their strawberry blonde baby. He smiled to himself and gave into the deep love that swirled through his body.

Crowley was deep in his own warm, blissful state, but no less aware of his surroundings as his senses were still tip top - heightened. Eyes closed, he felt all six eyes staring at him. A small smile crept over his face. "Take a picture, it'll last longer."

Anathema did. She showed it to Aziraphale, who said, "Send that to me. Well, send it to Crowley so he can save it for me."

The three quietly chatted as Crowley lightly dozed. He was aware of the noise of their chatter, but more in tune with the sounds made by the birds and lingering insects around them. He could hear the soft sighs within the ground beneath him, the pathways and tangles of tree roots communicating with each other. He could feel the vibrations of people, pets, and all sorts of critters as they walked the grounds and moved through grass. He could smell things that even the angel nearby would never be able to smell, the pulsing energy of the earth and the unique scent of each living thing, including his three companions.

His mind moved to the child within him, the comforting and reassuring soft glow of life deep inside. Crowley wondered what their scent would be like when they were finally earthside. He found himself with another vision of himself cradling an infant of a few months, nursing them on the sofa in the bookshop as Aziraphale worked on some dusty old book. Their chubby hand held tight to Crowley's shirt as their little chonky legs kicked back and forth, the same wispy strawberry blonde hair peeking out. His chest tingled at the thought and he now understood that these visions weren't hopeful scenes he created in his head. They were real life moments that would play out in his future.

He connected with the little spark, surrounding it with his love and protection. Hello, little one. He noticed something new about his tiny protostar. A pulsing within its glow - a new aspect to it's life force. A heartbeat. At that moment, Crowley wanted to sit upright and shout "heartbeat!" to his companions. He chose to remain as he was, quietly connected to his baby, delighting in them, letting himself feel this moment privately and without fear. It would remain a secret between daddy and child for now. His own heartbeat quickened and a tear threatened his eyelid.

He was vaguely aware of the growing voices around him.

"He's out like a light," Newt said.

"Pregnancy is exhausting," Anathema answered.

"Give me your hand, my dear boy." The sunlight was blocked suddenly. He opened his eyes to find Aziraphale, backlit by the light of the sun and he gasped at the sight of him. It was as if he himself were the sun, emanating his own glowing corona. He didn't look like the gentlemanly corporeal Aziraphale in that moment. He looked divine, awash in his own self-created angelic light.

Crowley smiled and took the angel's hand, allowing himself to be pulled up and then fussed over as Anathema brushed leaves and grass from his back and hair. "How long was I out? Felt like hours." He stretched, limbs going in an impossible assortment of directions. His head was fuzzy and his heart happy from the connection he made with his baby.

"Maybe 10 minutes," Newt answered. He and Anathema gathered the rucksacks and made their way back to the trail.

Aziraphale put his arm around Crowley's slinky waist and pulled him in close. "I don't think you have any idea how beautiful you looked laying there."

"Well, I don't think you have any idea how beautiful you look standing here." Crowley smiled before accepting a deep and long kiss from Aziraphale.

They forgot where they were for a moment. They forgot they weren't alone as lips and tongues searched one another.

They remembered as they found themselves pelted with trail mix and at least three grapes.

"Get a room!" Yelled Newt.

Laughing, Crowley picked up one of the grapes and threw it at Newt. He may or may not have used a bit more demonic strength and precision aim than intended. Newt yelped as the rocketing grape hit him square on the neck.

"Sorry, mate!" Crowley called after him, making his way to the trail. "Did it hurt? Can't hurt as much as your ego does when driving your blue toybox around!" He cackled and put his sunglasses on before making his way down to the trail with the rest of them.

They enjoyed lunch at a cafe in Brighton before making their way out to explore a few shops, staying mindful of the time.

Aziraphale and Newt dipped into a small grocer to pick up a few items for dinner. Crowley and Anathema visited a quaint cosmetic store full of handmade skin and body care, plus a small selection of cosmetics.

Crowley happened upon a set of lilac body scrub, massage oil, and shampoo. “I love when he uses lilac,” he told Anathema. “It’s one of my favorite scents on him. He smells like old books and lilac and mmmmm. So comforting.” He thought of scrubbing down Aziraphale's entire sumptuous body and then following it up with a massage.

He browsed a rack of nail polish while Anathema picked out skincare. A bottle of black polish caught his eye. He picked it up and looked it over, placing it in his shopping basket. Another bottle of a delicate baby blue also caught his attention and joined the black polish in the basket.

The group met on the pavement and headed back to the Bentley for the drive home.

"How's your head feel, Newt? Dizzy?" Crowley called back from the driver's side.

"Oh…uh…fine?" Newt was confused.

"Thought it might throw you back into balance being in a car with four wheels. The way God intended." He snort-laughed like a dork.

They returned to the Cottage slightly later than they had hoped, but with enough time to get plenty done in the garden.

Crowley had changed into his dungarees, a process he found utterly exhausting. He almost called off garden work in favor of a nap, but managed to soldier through. He wanted to mulch and cover many of the beds to protect them from the coming winter elements. Early pregnancy was certainly a challenge and he feared not having the energy to do the work without the extra help.

The warm sunny skies of the morning had given way to gray autumnal clouds and a northern wind that was beginning to grow. Aziraphale watched the three gardeners from the window in their bedroom as he sat in his armchair with a book and some tea.

He thought back to the beginning of October, where he had peered through the same window and watched Crowley accept a hug and let himself be touched by Anathema and Newt. He remembered how emotional Crowley had been that night, the way he clung to him while riding him, the way he collapsed crying afterward and how Aziraphale carried him up the stairs. He knew then that Crowley was grappling with the many changes within him, the softening of some of his edges, the relaxation into family life with Aziraphale.

Aziraphale understood that one of the most terrifying things Crowley could ever experience was safety. They had both longed for it desperately over their shared existence, their arrangement, their friendship, their love. Now that they had it, they didn't quite know what to do with it - that was especially true for Crowley. Crowley experienced that dysphoria heavily. Safety was new. It was raw and it challenged the way he had lived for thousands of years. He was so used to being constantly hunted and watched, his entire being tethered to Hell by a chain until the young Adam broke that bond. Crowley was wise and cunning. Tempting and callous. Powerful. Strong. Fierce. Cocksure. All things that were still strongly present within him. Those aspects were just moving around to let other parts of him grow because it was safe to do so. That's what Aziraphale understood to be so frightening for his love. Safety confronted his fear of vulnerability . For Crowley, the constant vulnerability he has allowed for the past year still triggered memories of what that very vulnerability meant for him for millennia - it could make him easy prey. Aziraphale knew patience was one of the greatest gifts he could give to his demon. He was aware that there would be growth and then setbacks, freedom and then fear. It would cycle until little bits of fear fell away, consumed by the security they now had together.

That Crowley was unknitting and restitching his heart, his body, and the very soul he believed to be damned moved Aziraphale in ways that he could never imagine or describe in any of the countless languages he knew.

Aziraphale was changing, too. Proud to be his fussy old-fashioned gentleman self, he was learning to enjoy small moments where he would, as Crowley would say, let his hair down. He didn't need to change himself at all, but he could give into absurdity now and then. He could let his inner guardian out when called for. He could let himself be dressed differently by his demon on occasion. He was slowly learning that he was always enough - always had been - for Heaven, for Crowley, and for himself. And now for this new precious life. Aziraphale struggled with being “just right” and “enough,” and it took consistent effort to accept himself at times, but he was committed to trying, knowing that he would struggle just as his demon does.

He was unaware of how much time passed while he was lost in his thoughts, but the sound of Crowley cackling after a bird pooped on Anathema snapped him out of his thoughts. The trio were merrily working together and making great progress. Aziraphale was glad. He much preferred to watch gardening than to partake in it. Of course, the times he tried to help Crowley in the early days after they bought the cottage would always find one of them pinned to a tree or bent over a flower bed while the other thoroughly serviced them by way of a cock or a mouth.

Done for the day, the gardeners politely removed their boots before making their way into the kitchen, finding an angel with a fresh pot of warm tea and a plate full of biscuits.

After tea, Anathema announced she was going to shower before dinner to rid herself of any leftover bird droppings. Crowley winked at Aziraphale when Newt announced he would join her.

Angel and demon made their way to the bedroom so Crowley could loudly complain about getting changed.

“I miss my miracles. This business with having to lift my arms or pull on pants is for the birds.” He laughed at himself, remembering the one that shat on Anathema.

“One can learn to enjoy the daily ritual of dressing. Besides, I have miracled plenty for you. If you need me to do so, just ask.” Aziraphale sat on the bed and watched the demon poke through the wardrobe.

“Nah. I can get something on my own like a big boy.” He eventually chose joggers and accepted the suggestion of a V-neck shirt from his angel. Again.

“You know, Angel, you’ve been into these V-necks on me lately. I’m beginning to suspect my pervy angel just wants to get a good look at my tits. Have we a new fetish?”

“I rather enjoy seeing your chest hair peek out. It’s also highlights those scrumptious collar bones and that tempting neck. The tits have been an added bonus.” He blushed.

“Well, come get a load of these then.” Crowley bounced over to Aziraphale and lifted his shirt up and then smooshed the angel's face into his chest, which he wiggled and shimmied. Any soreness was worth the squeals of protest turned to delight from Aziraphale.

Their laughter turned into hugs, which turned into kissing after Crowley pushed Aziraphale back onto the bed.

“I’d shag you quick before dinner, but I’m afraid I’d fall asleep and be out for the night,” Crowley said.

Aziraphale kissed his neck. “Perhaps some supper will energize you and you can have a proper shag before bedtime.”

Crowley felt his skin flush at the thought. His heartbeat quickened as - “Wait.” He sat up. He had something to tell Aziraphale. “I want to tell you something.” He beamed.

“What is it?” He sat up next to him.

“There’s a heartbeat.”

It took a moment for it to register for Aziraphale. He was still lost in the previous moment where they were talking about shagging. This was an abrupt change. It was Crowley taking his hand and placing it over his low belly that made the connection for him.

“A heartbeat? Our baby?” His eyes widened.

“Yes!” His smile was infectious. “While I was laying in the grass I connected with the baby. There it was - an actual heartbeat. A very real, very perfect heartbeat.” His eyes began to water.

Which matched Aziraphale’s eyes - tears already beginning their race down his cheeks. He felt the light of the little soul under their cupped hands. “Oh, Crowley. Such wonderful news." He couldn't manage much more in words as he was taken over by a sense of awe and the blessing of relief. He brought Crowley into a hug, the glow of both his baby and his demon in his arms.

Chapter Text

Another delicious dinner among friends at the cottage was in the books. Aziraphale shooed Crowley and Anathema away as he and Newt cleaned up, sans miracles, and worked on dessert.

Anathema announced "girl time" and asked Crowley to join her in the parlour with his nail polish. She had bought her own nail polish at the shop - a soft lilac color, inspired by Crowley's choice in body products. They placed their bottles of nail polish on the coffee table. Crowley grabbed two pillows from the sofa and handed one to Anathema. They sat on the floor, pillows under bums, at the coffee table.

"Don't laugh. I'm hopeless at painting my own nails." Anathema wiggled her fingers at Crowley.

"I-I could do them for you. I'm good at that sort of thing." He took her hands in his and was not unaware of the gentle surprised smile on her face as his fingers touched hers. He thought of their shared experience - each of their hands had caught many babies. Someday soon, her delicate fingers would be helping guide his baby into the world. His heart jumped at the thought. He rolled the bottle of polish between his palms and indicated for her to place her hands out in front of him.

"You’re good at this sort of thing," Anathema laughed as he expertly applied a coat of polish to her nails. "Do you do this often?"

"Sometimes. Sometimes I just miracle it, but I prefer doing this or make-up the…uh…human way." He gently blew on the fingertips of one of her hands.

"You're good at make-up, too? Of course you are." She laughed

"And hair, if I try." He smiled back. "You saw our Rocky Horror pics? The make-up on both of us was all me. No miracles." Crowley was proud of his abilities in that realm.

"Really? You both looked like you had it done by a professional. You may have missed your calling as a Make-up Artist."

Crowley laughed. "Time to quit the demon day job." He chuckled. "I just need to convince Aziraphale to wear eyeliner now and again. He looks so hot in it."

"He seems more set in his ways than you do when it comes to style."

Crowley gave a shy smile and looked up at her. "He's like an old, comfortable sofa. I love that about him and wouldn't change a thing, really." He blew on the fingertips of her other hand. "Second coat now, luv."

"Does he ever change the way you do?" She was unsure if the question was too forward and hoped it didn't make him uncomfortable.

"It's happened, yeah. No where near as much as me. I like fluidity. He's more steady."

Crowley concentrated on finishing her nails. When he was done, he admired his work. “There we go! What do you think?”

“Looks like I had them done at a professional salon! Thank you.” She held her hands up and smiled, admiring how perfect her nails looked.

"Ngh." Crowley began painting his own nails black. The two chatted more about make-up and his plans to lather Aziraphale up and rub him down with some luxurious scrubs and oils. The topic then turned to the garden.

“I can't wait to see it in the Spring and Summer. It’s going to be so beautiful,” Anathema said wistfully.

“It was in full bloom when we bought the cottage. It’s one of the many things that sold us on this place - me, especially. In the warmer months, there are more flowers and plants than you can imagine. I'll be giant when Spring and Summer roll around, but I am very much looking forward to working out there then.”

“It would make a lovely spot for a wedding.”

He felt a single butterfly take flight in his stomach. “Are you asking me to marry you?” He laughed softly.

Anathema laughed in return. “I meant if you and…oh, maybe I shouldn't…I didn't mean to be too forward.” Her investigative nature had gotten the best of her and now she was embarrassed at herself for bringing that up.

He sighed. “‘S’okay. I’ve had similar thoughts.” He stared at his nails. “I want to. Just…I dunno.”

“Have you two talked about it?” She focused on his expert application of polish on his own fingers. He was incredibly meticulous.

He looked up through his lashes. “Historically, we’re not the best at talking things out. We’re getting better at it.” He blew on his fingers. “One hand down.” He picked up the blue polish. “Think I’ll do my other hand in this.”

“A perfect blend of the two of you.”

“Our perfect blend is down here.” He tickled his fingers over his belly. “Anyway, who is supposed to ask who? What if he says ‘no?’ What if I look foolish?”

“I don't think there are any hard or fast rules and I don't think he would ever say ‘no,’ Crowley.” Her voice was soothing.

“The practical side of me knows this. It's the other part of me that makes me question everything and let's fear take control. That part seems to have a better grip on me often. With everything I have been through...we have been through, it's hard to have complete faith." He paused as he inspected his work so far. "I struggle with permanency,” he whispered.

“I can't pretend to understand the details of your history, but one thing seems to be constant in all of the stories from you two - the permanency of your love for one another.” She briefly put a manicured hand on his shoulder.

He hummed his agreement and held up his finished nails. Black on the left hand. Delicate blue on the right. “How do they look?”

“They look very nice, Crowley. I love that you have colors that represent you both. ”

They were interrupted by Newt and Aziraphale bringing in dessert. Friendly conversation and happy indulgence in dessert followed until they retired to the sitting room for more conversation in front of the fireplace.

Yawns from an exhausted demon eventually signaled that it was time for bed. They bade each other good night with a final call from Crowley down the hall, “Don't feel the need to behave on our account! We certainly won't be up to any good!” He cackled while Aziraphale blushed.

Newt squeaked.

“Fancy a bath?” Crowley asked once the bedroom door was closed.

“An irresistible offer, my dear. Are you sure you're not too tired?

“I’m too tired to be too tired, so it works out.” Crowley grabbed the bag from the shop. “I have good smelly scrubby stuff that I think you'll like.”

“Oh?” Aziraphale walked into the bathroom to run the faucet.

“Yup. But you'll have to let me fuss over you. "

Crowley shampooed and scrubbed his angel thoroughly in the tub. They laughed and kissed throughout the pamper session as limbs were awkwardly swung over each other and bums scooched around the tub. It took maneuvering, but Crowley managed to scrub every inch of his angel before leading him out of the tub and drying him off.

“Lay down on the bed for me, Angel,” he commanded softly, patting his skin dry. “Put a towel down. “

“Put a towel down? Oh dear.”

Crowley held up the massage oil. “Froo froo massage oil. It’s going to get all over the sheets. Look, it’s even orga-”

“Organic. Organic, Crowley.”

“Was gonna say that.” He said with a cheesy grin. “Now lay that divine ass down on the bed.”

Aziraphale did as he was asked, laying on his belly atop the towel he had just placed down. He put his head in his arms in eager anticipation of his lover's hands moving along his skin as Crowley climbed onto the bed and straddled his back. Ah, there was Aziraphale's new favorite feeling - the wet warmth of the flesh at the center of his lover.

“You know, this should truly be the other way around. You’re the one growing an entire baby and dealing with all the symptoms that accompany the process.”

Crowley worked his fingers and the heels of his hands into the strong muscles of his angel’s back. “You're the one who put this baby in me,” he laughed softly. “You deal with the symptoms, too. You take care of me day and night. You keep us fed. And well-dressed. Well, dressed okay enough.” They laughed together.

He leaned over to kiss Aziraphale’s shoulder quickly before continuing his kneading. “Even the gross parts. You’ve probably witnessed more undigested food in these last weeks than you have in your entire time on this rock.” He was silent for a few moments, the room filled only with the contented sighs of Aziraphale as Crowley’s graceful fingers worked over muscle and delicious flesh.

“And I know you feel fear, too. You worry about me and the baby.” His voice lowered. “I know you. You worry constantly that you're not enough. That you could somehow do better.”

Aziraphale buried his face in the bed, hiding the tears that pricked his eyes. Crowley was right, of course. He had been feeling guilty in just this very moment - for accepting the pampering. Even though he wanted it. Even though the skillful caresses from his love’s perfect hands were just what his muscles and his heart needed. Even though his mind could use the break from its stream of worry, and his comparison of himself to others - real or imagined - his belief that he could always strive to be better. He needed this moment of care so badly - he would have never admitted it. Crowley knew that. Crowley knew him perfectly. Aziraphale sighed. He let himself melt into the bed and relaxed into the tender touch of his lover.

Crowley didn’t miss an inch of Aziraphale’s body for the massage, indulging himself for an extra length of time at the angel’s thighs, bum, and belly.

When he was done, he wiped his hands on the towel and threw it in the bathroom, letting it land on the edge of the tub, where it would end up clean and neatly folded by morning. He brought out one more little bottle.

“Anathema says this is skin care. Whatever that means. It’s for your face. Supposed to make you all pretty and whatnot, but you already have the market cornered on that.” He pecked the angel’s cheek as Aziraphale sat up against the pillows. Crowley sat astride his lap and worked the pads of his fingers over Aziraphale’s face.

Aziraphale thought of the simple intimacy of it all - both of them nude with their most secret parts pressed together, yet no expectation for sex or performance. It was beautifully sensual, he thought, just to sit like this together. He looked at Crowley's graceful fingers.

“Look at those nails. How delightful. The blue suits you.”

“Yeah, but that entire hand is burning.” He snorted as he continued to work the serum in to his skin.

Aziraphale never knew he needed his face massaged, but this felt absolutely divine. Even more divine was the look in Crowley’s eyes. It reminded him of the night of Rocky Horror, the way Crowley had looked at him when he was applying his make-up with such a pure adoration and perfect love. The same look in his eyes later that night when he had held Aziraphale’s face in his hands as they conceived their baby. He could see as well as feel the way Crowley adored him. He took Crowley’s hands in his and leaned close to kiss him.

“Wait, wait,” Crowley said and he dripped more serum into his hand, “Before you do that - Anathema says that whatever you do to your face, you do to your neck and decolletage. He laughed as he rubbed serum onto Aziraphale’s neck and chest. “I think most of it got into your chest hair, but it’ll do. Now -” he leaned forward to take Aziraphale up on that kiss.

After a slow and lazy make-out session, Crowley scooped Aziraphale in his arms and cradled him at his chest.

“Thank you for this,” Aziraphale said, trailing a finger through auburn chest hair. “It was certainly needed.”

Crowley kissed the top of his head through floofy curls and inhaled the lilac scent. “You smell like Heaven.”

“There’s a reason for that,” Aziraphale chuckled. Content, feeling pampered and adored, Aziraphale allowed himself to slip into sleep along with his lover.

The sounds of Crowley's morning song to the toilet rang through the halls as Anathema and Newt made breakfast in the kitchen. Aziraphale was at his usual post with Crowley.

It would be time to head home before they knew it. Crowley ushered Aziraphale away from the bedroom as he got dressed, urging him to enjoy breakfast with their guests. He would eventually find his way to the kitchen, but was unable to eat more than a few bites.

"Sorry, lad." He looked over at Newt. "When this morning - all day sickness goes away, you are more than welcome to come here and feed me properly."

"Deal." Newt said with a smile.

After relaxing conversation and more tea, Aziraphale was joined by Newt in cleaning up in the kitchen. Crowley joined Anathema in the guest room and helped her pack up their things.

"Th-thank you for the talk the other night. For understanding." Crowley whispered, crossing one arm in front of himself to grasp his opposite shoulder. A protective motion for a shy demon who was still trying to feel comfortable with vulnerability.

Anathema hugged him, her eyes moistened when Crowley's arms wrapped around her back and held her tightly. When they finally pulled apart, she looked into his golden eyes and swore she saw a little tear there.

"You're doing beautiful work," was all she could manage to say without getting the rest of her words caught in her throat. She was proud of Crowley and inspired by the relationship between him and Aziraphale. She was looking forward to seeing them grow together in different and similar ways through this pregnancy.

Crowley helped her take their things to the car, much to furious clucking from the angelic mother hen who appeared in the doorway.

"Too late, Angel. Consider my fingers officially lifted this morning." He walked to the stoop and kissed his fussy angel. "Don't worry, I fully intend to play the pregnant demon card a lot."

Newt joined Anathema outside and goodbyes and hugs were exchanged. Newt was surprised when he received a full hug from Crowley and a thank you. He leaned into both.

"You're talented in the kitchen and I enjoyed your cooking - even though I threw a lot of it up. It wasn't half bad coming back up when I think of it. That's when you know it's quality food."

Newt would take the compliment. He circled to the driver's side after letting Anathema in, shyly eyeing Crowley. He slowly closed the door as he got in and rolled the window down for a final goodbye.

Crowley leaned into the window. "You and I have a lot in common, Newton. I'm carrying precious cargo." He pointed to his belly. "You're carrying precious cargo." He pointed to Anathema. "Don't embarrass her by getting pulled over for driving a recycling bin." He laughed heartily and slapped the roof of the car. "It'll never get old, mate. Never get old."

Aziraphale gave an exasperated sigh and told them to drive safe. He turned to head in with Crowley, but the demon pulled him toward the garden gate instead. They walked through the gardens as Crowley did one last inspection.

Crowley sat down on the bench under one of the apple trees and patted the seat for Aziraphale to sit beside him. He leaned his head on his shoulder as Aziraphale put an arm around him. He felt a wing on another plane wrapped around him as well. It was colder than usual for a November morning. Crowley rolled an old apple, mostly chewed by a bunny, under his shoe.

"'M wiped," he yawned.

"Yes, that certainly doesn't surprise me my dear. We've had a busy few days, haven't we?" He kissed the head at his shoulder and inhaled the cold air. "Refreshing," he exhaled. "I do love it here."

"We made a solid choice," Crowley yawned. His fingers met the hand on Aziraphale's lap. He trailed his finger up and down Aziraphale's left ring finger. He smiled at the thought of putting a ring there and then put the thought away in a box in his mind. He thought instead about the baby growing up here.

"Just imagine this garden with toys scattered about. Wee little watering cans and tiny garden boots by the door." God, he was soft.

"One of the many things I look forward to. This is the perfect place to raise children…a…a child."

Crowley looked up at him. "Next one's on you," he laughed.

Aziraphale laughed with him. He could hardly imagine ever going through what Crowley is doing right now. Crowley does it more perfectly, more beautifully than he ever could. He pushed the thought down.

"Early to think about - or maybe it isn't - be nice to have the baby here."

Aziraphale blinked. Did he mean raising the child here? Of course they would raise the child here, splitting time with the bookshop. "You mean have them grow up here?"

"Obviously they will. I mean me. Having the baby. Here. Y'know the whole pushing and screaming and birthing thing. Be quieter than the bookshop. No customers knocking about the door and street noise and whatnot."

"Oh." He hadn't thought about that part and it unlocked a new worry. "What about the birth center? I just assumed…"

Crowley sat up, but stayed in Aziraphale's arm. "Not for me. It's lovely, mind. I know it's a great place for others to give birth. That sort of thing is not for me. I want to be home. I need to be home for it. Conceived at the bookshop. Born here. Perfect, really."

"I admit I hadn't given it much thought other than assuming it would be the birth center. Wherever you birth, I'll be right there." The whole idea made him nervous. He's witnessed the entire human history of birthing in a different way than Crowley. He was often around to grant miracles when things went wrong. He hadn't thought much about where the birth would take place, but he had certainly worried about what Crowley would experience.

"I know you worry. I can smell it on you." Crowley witnessed the changes in birth when power was removed from those who actually gave birth and placed in the hands of those who didn't have the same reproductive equipment, but who had religious, moral, and, eventually, monetary agendas. It wasn't always a good thing. He wasn't at all opposed to medical intervention when necessary - he had even miracled it in the past - but he had a different kind of trust in the process and in his body. "I ask you to trust me on this." Crowley took Aziraphale's hand in both of his.

Aziraphale looked at Crowley's hands, their long slender fingers and artfully manicured nails. His hands have delivered countless babies over the centuries. They've guided tiny rooting mouths to breasts. While Crowley may not admit it to anyone else, they've also held and comforted distraught parents and those who could never conceive.

"I do trust you. Implicitly. I do in all things and most especially in this matter."

Crowley smiled warmly at him. "Thank you. Right. Let's get this show on the road and get back to the bookshop."

They went through the house and checked and re-checked on things to Aziraphale's satisfaction. Crowley said goodbye to his plants and would deny any claim that he blew kisses to them.

They stopped at the Sainsbury's on the way home - the one in Crawly, for obvious reasons. Crowley was both starving and wanting to buy all the food in the store - except watermelon, corn, peanut butter, and Gummi Bears - as well as positively repulsed by everything.

"I can smell everything. At once. It's disgusting." He felt his stomach flip. "Ooooh, Nutella! You can put this on crepes!"

They loaded up the Bentley with their groceries and Crowley handed Aziraphale the keys.

"I can't make it home. I'm either going to puke or fall asleep or both." It was both. Aziraphale quickly became adept at swerving to let Crowley out.

At the bookshop, Crowley curled up in bed and slept for hours until Aziraphale woke him for a light dinner. They spent the evening cuddled on the couch, watching television and making out.

Crowley was in his 6th week and his symptoms were as strong as ever, the nausea riding with him day and night.

"The baby is now the size of a pea," Aziraphale declared, peering over the top of a pregnancy book while snuggling with Crowley in bed one evening.

Crowley smiled. "A little pea." He cupped his hand on his belly. "This little pea causes a lot of pee." He laughed at his own joke.

"They are beginning to grow little buds that will become their arms and legs, hands and feet. And we already know they have a heartbeat now. The amount of changes are astounding. From a poppyseed to a pea in just a few weeks."

"And eventually a watermelon." He dry-heaved at the thought. "Oh, oh. Why did I say that?"

They read through some of the book together, daydreaming about the future weeks until Crowley fell asleep.

The rest of his 6th week went as smoothly as it could. Crowley slept a lot and got sick a lot. Aziraphale kept him fed and comfortable. Anathema declared herself pleased at their appointment and they made the decision to not see her until his 8th week when they would do his ultrasound.

"Who does the ultrasound? This will be on top of my belly?" Crowley asked nervously.

"I do. Not all midwives do ultrasounds. Some do and I'm one of them," Anathema answered. "Everything is on top of your belly. You will need a full bladder when you come in - it pushes your uterus up and makes things easier to see, believe it or not."

Crowley let out a sigh of relief. "M'gonna be a wreck the day of. My nerves are out of control as it is."

Aziraphale squeezed his hand. "I have a feeling everything will be alright, Crowley," he said softly. "I will be with you and we have our most capable midwife and friend, Anathema."

Crowley offered a weak smile. He told them he had stopped checking for blood when he went to the bathroom, but that was a lie. Even though he saw and felt the baby's heartbeat the last time he connected with them, for some reason it didn't stop the very real fear that all of this would be taken from him.

Crowley's seventh week, with a baby the size of a blueberry, passed without much fanfare. Crowley spent most of it the same way he had the previous week - puking and sleeping. His nausea was ever present throughout the day and night as was a constant hunger that he couldn't fulfill. He was sick of small meals and bland foods, but he was also extremely grateful to experience all of these discomforts and wouldn't change it for anything.

The exhaustion pulled at his bones relentlessly, leaving him to doze during his favorite television programs and nod off in between bites of meals. One lazy afternoon found Aziraphale asking Crowley to fetch a book for him. When more than several minutes had passed by, Aziraphale got up from the work at his desk and found Crowley asleep, standing against the bookshelf, hand still on the book he had been sent to find. Aziraphale would be happy to report that he managed to pull the demon's phone from his pocket and after 2 inadvertent selfies - his skills were improving - snapped a picture of the sleeping Crowley before scooping him up and depositing him on the sofa by his desk, draping him in a blanket. Aziraphale thought of how he'd forever cherish these moments.

As his eighth week approached, Crowley grew increasingly nervous about the ultrasound. Aziraphale sat with him for hours each night and listened to him speak his fears, soothing him as best he could. He shared some fears as well. He figured it was all part of becoming a father. For Crowley, who had his very identity degraded and stripped, the idea of being able to hold onto something good for a length of time was unimaginable. Aziraphale was patient and strong, letting Crowley repeat the same fears over and over again, listening intently and processing with him.

The night before the ultrasound was the most difficult. Crowley kept checking online for pictures of normal eight week ultrasounds. He couldn't even understand why or what he was searching for. He was exhausted beyond belief, but restless and unable to nap or even settle down. He and Aziraphale took several walks earlier in the day to burn off the nervous energy, but now at home and in bed he shook his legs and tossed and turned.

Aziraphale had offered a nice long soak in the bath, but Crowley declined. Instead, the angel just held him in bed, stroking him and kissing him and listening. Eventually, the exhaustion won and Crowley drifted off to sleep.

Crowley awoke in the middle of the night thanks to the needs of his bladder. As he walked out of the bathroom, he looked at Aziraphale waiting for him in bed, laying on his side, propped up on an elbow. Aziraphale gave him a sweet smile and patted his spot in the bed. He looked serene, yet protective. His ever-vigilant angel, a constant source of comfort and love. Crowley never expected his heart could expand and grow, but he was surprised that it seemed to do so nearly every day. He felt…blessed. If that was ever possible. He thought of the coming months and how the two of them would grow together, deepening their bond. Next to meeting their baby, Crowley's most anticipated change was watching Aziraphale become a father. Crowley had told Anathema that he didn't have a sense of permanency. That was true for almost all things, except Aziraphale. Aziraphale was constant. He was his safety. Their child would be born experiencing the constant love, safety, and security of them both. He couldn't quite fathom what that might feel like - the thought of it overwhelmed him in a good way.

He wouldn't be able to articulate what it was, but something changed in him as he slipped back into bed, face to face with Aziraphale. It was nearly half past three in the morning and he should get some sleep for his appointment, but…

"Hi," Crowley whispered, taking in the pools of deep blue peering at him in the dark.

"Hi," Aziraphale whispered back with his heart stopping smile.

Crowley thought he would get away with a simple soft kiss as he brushed his lips against Aziraphale's. His body and, most especially his heart, had other needs. He reached down to the meeting place between Aziraphale's thighs and smiled at the sound of the angel's hitched breath as Crowley felt the hardening reaction in his hand. He rolled on his back and pulled Aziraphale on top of him, spreading his thighs wide and wrapping his legs around his lover's waist as an invitation.

They didn't speak. They didn't have to. Eyes conveyed the unspoken. After weeks of frustration and struggle, Crowley finally welcomed his lover to move deep inside him once again. Heavy satisfied sighs rolled into soft sobs as their bodies buoyed on wave after wave of repeated climax. Words of love and affirmation were whispered and quiet laughs with tearful sighs were shared. Crowley's body sang with the relief of being fully reconnected with Aziraphale. Even his ever-present nausea submitted and took a hiatus, allowing him to fully focus on the pleasurable sensations tingling throughout him. They remained pressed together, moving in unison for hours until the beginning hints of morning light poked through the curtains.

With heaving breaths and trembling limbs, they curled into one another. "Finally," said Crowley, his voice light and raspy. He pressed his lips to Aziraphale's neck. "Thank you." He rested his head on Aziraphale's chest and listened as the heart within it found a calm rhythm. Crowley was in bliss. His mind and body felt light and whole and he relished the feel of his well-serviced cunt filled completely with Aziraphale's spend. Somewhere, a tiny broken piece of the demon was healed.

Aziraphale watched Crowley sleep for an hour before it was time to wake him for his appointment. "We'll have to leave for your appointment shortly after an hour, dear. You'll need time to powder your nose and hopefully enjoy a bit of breakfast," he said to the protesting tired demon.

"Powder my nose? You make expelling stomach contents until I turn inside out sound so dainty and polite. Speaking of -" He swung his legs over the side of the bed and made the hasty walk to the bathroom. How, he wondered, how does his body know to vomit the moment he wakes up? "Sodding hormones."

He stood naked in front of the mirror after a quick shower. He looked at his body from all angles, hands smoothing over his skin.

"I look exactly the same." He thought his narrow frame would easily show some sign of pregnancy by this point. "Except my tiny titty tits."

"I know it seems the same - with the exception of the bosom - but you look very different to me. I can see so much change in your face and your eyes and…well, your hair come to think of it." Crowley's always beautiful hair was exceptionally lustrous this past week, Aziraphale realized. "You radiate new life everywhere. The bump will come."

He cupped his hand over Crowley's belly, sending a tiny blessing to the even tinier life within. "Now, we've talked about the importance of wearing clothing to our midwife appointments." He held up the outfit that Crowley had selected with much complaining. Simple black joggers complete with a black snake design down one leg and a deep purple Henley top. The deep purple on Crowley made Aziraphale feel tingly.

Crowley unfastened the 3 buttons of the shirt, further emphasizing his collarbones and chest. He winked at Aziraphale. Their lovemaking had washed him in a blessing of relief and pleasure that he hoped to repeat over and over and over again during the coming day and night.

"May I interest you in a simple breakfast?" Aziraphale asked.

Crowley's stomach jumped with nerves. He was hungry, but the gnawing anxiety about the ultrasound coupled with his standard nausea made thinking of food unimaginable. Still, he didn't want to feel weak with hunger during the appointment.

"Best I can manage is toast and a tiny glass of orange juice."

"Coming right up, my dear." Aziraphale left to go to the kitchen.

Crowley sat on the edge of the bed and picked up his phone. Opening Google, he searched "8 week baby bumps," and began scrolling through countless pictures. Different body types showed bumps of various sizes. He looked at bodies like his - a few were as flat as he still was while even more seemed to show some type of small bump. He sighed and threw his phone back on the bed and stood up to stand in front of the mirror again. He pulled his waistband down and stared, almost willing some sort of little belly to appear. He pushed his belly out and snorted at his reflection. One more thing to obsess over, he thought.

He slipped a hand below the waistband of the sensible black cotton knickers with a little red satin bow in the center - he had spent a lot of time overthinking the proper undergarment to wear to your first ultrasound and hoped the bow wasn't too much - and felt near his pubic bone. He felt a sense of comfort as his hand found the small, yet undeniable form of the very top of his uterus. See, he told himself, things are growing even though you can't see it yet. It definitely felt larger than the first time Anathema guided his hand there. He'd know, because he checks often to reassure himself that his uterus is still there. Crowley had been feeling a heavy fullness, different from the bloating, way down below in recent days, which gave him hope.

Aziraphale's footsteps echoed in the hallway and Crowley walked out to meet the angel who was beckoning him to his sad little breakfast. Aziraphale sipped on tea as Crowley begrudgingly nibbled on his toast.

"I feel like a prisoner being kept alive on only bread and water," he laughed. "Well, orange juice." He held up the glass.

"Consider me a benevolent warden." Aziraphale winked. "Remember, you need a full bladder. I'd caution you to refrain from using the toilet before we leave."

"If I explode in the Bentley…I swear." They laughed together while Crowley finished the rest of his toast.

Aziraphale was tasked with driving. Crowley was too nervous and too tired. Azirphale gripped the steering wheel a little tighter than usual since he couldn't fidget with his hands otherwise.

Crowley felt unease creep in strongly as they rounded the corner to the birth center and pulled in to park. Nerves began to pull at his stomach. He sat and stared out the window, not hearing Aziraphale repeatedly ask if he was ready to get out. After minutes went by, he managed to shake his head yes. Aziraphale jogged to his side of the car to open the door for him.

"I've got you my dear," said Aziraphale as he held the hand of a shaky Crowley. "Let's get inside and say hello to our little fellow."

"Don't sssay that. Don't jinx it," Crowley hissed.

Aziraphale's eyes widened at the sudden snap. "Oh. I'm so sorry." From their conversations, Aziraphale knew that Crowley would feel scared about acknowledging the pregnancy now and then, despite obviously accepting it and feeling joyful often. Sometimes his brain would tell him that any acknowledgement would call attention to forces that may want to hurt him and their baby. One never knew when those thoughts would crop up for Crowley, but Aziraphale calmly rode the emotional waves with him and did his best to steadily steer the boat.

Crowley sighed. "No. I'm sorry." He kissed Aziraphale's hand. "We can be excited, Angel. Let's go." He was lying to himself and putting on a brave face.

Crowley's leg bounced as he sat on an exam table, keeping Aziraphale's hand squeezed in his. They were in a different room this time. It was slightly bigger, appointed with the same natural embellishments, and it contained a contraption that looked almost like a computer with a keyboard and other bells and whistles. There was a tool that looked like a price scanner and a small bottle of an odd blue substance. Crowley thought maybe he should have read up on ultrasounds some more. He jolted from a knock at the door.

"Come in!" Aziraphale called. He smiled as Anathema's face peered in.

"Hi guys!" She closed the door behind her and walked into Aziraphale's arms for a hug. She rubbed one of Crowley's stiff arms, his knuckles white from his hard grip on the edge of the table.

"Crowley, is it okay if I give you a small exam before we start the ultrasound?"

"Yup," was all he managed to say. He had kept his glasses on, hoping to hide the fear in his eyes.

Anathema exchanged a glance with Aziraphale. She recognized that exam room Crowley was a much more scared version of the same demon who sat with her for countless hours in the sitting room of the cottage.

She took the necessary vitals, declaring them all to be perfect. "Can you lie back for me?"

"I s'pose," he answered. "Aziraphale?"

"I'm right here," Aziraphale moved to his station at Crowley's head and held his hand.

Anathema rested her hand on Crowley's arm as she usually did to get him used to her touch. "I love this color on you, Crowley. It's striking with your hair and, I assume, your eyes."

"Thanks. It's Aziraphale's pick. Kinda dumb that pants are so uncomfortable when I've got nothing to show for it down there," he pointed to where Anathema was just about to begin her exam.

"Oh," she smiled, "well, your belly may not have popped yet, but you have most definitely grown. Wow. This is such a difference from your 6 week appointment," she said as she palpated low on his belly.

"I feel like my bladder is about to pop." He was so uncomfortable from the pressure of her hands, though soothed by her reassuring words about his growth.

"I know. I'm so sorry. A full bladder raises your uterus up, making it easier to see things on ultrasound, but it's definitely not comfortable." She looked over at the machine. "Shall we get started so you can pee soon?"

Crowley began to shake. He took a few deep breaths and looked at the calming eyes of Aziraphale, his steady protector. "Yeah let's get this done."

Anathema wheeled the ultrasound unit closer to the exam table. She opened a cabinet and grabbed an extra pillow to place under Crowley's head. She asked him to pull his waistband down much lower, past his hairline. "Is that okay? That's primarily where I'll be working."

Crowley nodded a stiff yes and pulled his waistband down.

Anathema produced a blue waffle weave towel. This is just a little towel. I'll be using transducer jelly, which I will explain in a moment, on your belly. I can tuck this into your waistband so the jelly doesn't get on your trousers and undies." She waited for a nod from Crowley before attempting to tuck the towel into his waistband. When she noticed the way Crowley's entire body stiffened once she touched him, she asked Aziraphale if he would like to do it.

"Certainly, my dear," he said as he gently tucked the towel into Crowley's waistband, keeping eye contact with him.

Anathema explained how the ultrasound works, the way the transducer functioned with the jelly. Crowley had one leg bent in a subconscious protective way. "Can you relax your legs for me?" Her heart broke as she noticed how firmly he pressed his thighs together.

"If you become uncomfortable at any point, please let me know. If you need a break, we will take a break. I won't be offended if you need me to stop."

Aziraphale held tight to Crowley's hand. Crowley was gripping him with full strength, which was not easy to withstand. He could feel the tensing of the demon's muscles. He could see it in his body. And he could smell the fear rising off of him. He bent down to kiss his head.

"Squirting the jelly on now. Just a little cold goo feeling," she said as she squeezed the bottle of blue goo onto Crowley's belly.

Crowley barely registered the oddly textured cold substance. His fear was in full control of every cell and thought at the moment. He thought his heart might actually beat out of his chest and he tensed his muscles in an attempt to make his quickening breathing less obvious.

"I'm going to touch you with the wand now, Crowley. Just some pressure."

Crowley felt the pressure and the annoyance of his bladder as he watched a swirl of blacks and whites and various shades of grey appear on the screen. It was amorphous and confusing. There was nothing there. He squeezed his eyes shut. Please, please, please be there, little one. Oh please let them be there. Was he praying? His mouth went dry and his throat felt tight. He kept his eyes squeezed shut and turned his head away from the screen. He was vaguely aware of Aziraphale's other hand running through his hair. A ringing began to scream in his ears, which almost deafened him to the sound of Aziraphale and Anathema's voices.

"Aww," she squeaked.

"My God," Aziraphale's voice was low and reverent. "Crowley, look. Look there."

Crowley slowly turned his head and unclenched his eyes. It took a moment to focus on the screen. He took his glasses off as his eyes adjusted.

There, on the screen, was a tiny little bean-like figure that he recognized from his searches for normal 8 week fetuses. Most importantly, there was the most wondrous sight - a strong, fast little flicker at the center of the figure.

"Heartbeat," his voice cracked over the word as tears quickly streamed down his face. He covered his mouth with a shaky hand to stifle a cry.

Anathema was beaming. "There's your little baby with a perfect little heartbeat." Her eyes were getting very wet.

"Crowley…" Aziraphale would not be stifling any sobs. He openly cried and leaned in to kiss him.

The three of them were a mess of tears. Anathema grabbed tissues for each of them.

"I've never seen anything like this," Aziraphale whispered.

"They're real. Actually real." Crowley felt his muscles relax. "They're real. We have a baby, Aziraphale."

"We most certainly do, my dear boy." His legs were shaking. He hadn't realized how tense he had been until his own muscles relaxed.

"I'm not going to be able to see the screen with these tears in my eyes," Anathema laughed. She began to point certain bits out. "These are the little arm buds that are still forming. If you squint, you can just see the leg buds - those actually grow slower than the arms. If we do another ultrasound in a few weeks, you'll see them waving and kicking around." She pointed to a circular object next to the baby. "This is the yolk sac, which is what currently nourishes your baby until the placenta takes over. If you look here," she pointed, "you can see where the placenta is still growing. That will be ready to fully take over at 12 weeks."

Aziraphale and Crowley watched in silent awe as tears still fell from their eyes. Crowley wasn't sure what to do with all of the relief and happiness he was feeling.

"If you really squint, we can see the umbilical cord connecting you two, Crowley. The gestational sac looks great. Here’s a fun fact - See this little blip? The egg for this pregnancy came from your left ovary. That’s the corpus luteum from ovulation. You can thank that for the hormones that support early pregnancy as well as many of your delightful symptoms.” She continued moving the wand around. “I'm just going to take a few measurements." She moved the wand around with one hand while rolling a ball on the keyboard and pressing buttons with the other.

"Baby is measuring exactly on schedule. Eight weeks and one day. Good job growing the little bean, Mum." She felt awkward for assuming and winced. "Dad?"

Crowley beamed. "Either one is perfect, luv."

"Are you ready to hear one of the most beautiful sounds in the universe?"

She pushed another button and a strange and quick pulsing sound filled the room. "That's your baby's heartbeat."

Crowley was unable to stifle this cry. He was awash in so many feelings at once, but mostly gratitude and absolute reverence for the little being that chose them. He couldn't grasp how his damned body, so tortured and broken through millennia, was able to conceive the image on the screen. This star was more glorious than any ever created.

Aziraphale wrapped him in a sideways hug. Nothing in history prepared him for this moment and his brain couldn't contain the reality that this was only the beginning of so many more wonderful moments to come. He kissed Crowley in worship, not caring that they weren't alone in the room.

They spent a good while in happy company with one another, enjoying the view on the screen. Anathema announced that she was taking many pictures and a video. She'd print some as well as send copies and the video to Crowley's email.

When the ultrasound was finished, Crowley dashed like an Olympian to the washroom.

Aziraphale drew Anathema into a big hug. "Thank you, dear friend. Your expert care and warm companionship mean more to us than we could ever express."

Anathema sank into the hug. She was overjoyed for her friends and full of gratitude that she was able to share in this new part of their life.

Crowley sprang back into the room. "You would not believe the amount of pi–"

"Crowley," Aziraphale said with raised brows.

"Right." He leaned on the exam table. "Next week, book girl?"

"Next week! Hold on - I'm just printing your pictures." She pulled long strips of black and white photos from the ultrasound's printer and handed them to Crowley and Aziraphale. "A set for each of you."

Crowley looked at the pictures of their little bean-shaped baby. Some of them contained wording with arrows pointing to different bits in the picture. Crowley laughed at one that had an arrow labeled "head" and another labeled "rump."

"Rump." He held the picture up. "Look, our baby's first bum pic. Looks a bit like mine come to think of it."

"That's our cue to leave. You're high on happiness and punch drunk from exhaustion." He held his hand out to Crowley.

Crowley turned from him and enveloped Anathema in a hug. It was quick, but it was warm. " Thank you," he whispered into her ear before turning to take Aziraphale's hand. "See you next week!"

Anathema walked into the back office room that she shared with other staff. A fellow midwife was tapping away on a laptop. Anathema plopped into a chair and wiped tears from her eyes.

"How did it go? Everything alright?"

"Everything is perfect. They've been through so much and today was just wonderful and good and….I'm so happy for them."

"Queer couples go through so much just to get to this point," said the other midwife.

Anathema laughed to herself. "You wouldn't even believe most of what this couple has gone through."

Chapter Text

CHAPTER 21

Aziraphale and Crowley held each other in the car as all of the emotions poured out of them.

"I'm actually pregnant," Crowley sobbed into Aziraphale's shoulder.

"You most certainly are, my dear."

Crowley clutched the pictures on his hands when they finally drove away from the clinic. He studied them intently, memorizing every line and blob, tracing them with his finger.

"They came from my left ovary. Sinister." Crowley grinned wickedly. "The left side is the sinister side - they use that terminology in medicine, you know. My child after all."

"Right you are my fellow." Aziraphale was feeling a little punch drunk himself and decided to make like Crowley - he smiled his own little wicked smile. "The winning sperm likely came from my right nut. Righteous and holy."

Their laughter was so hard that Aziraphale had to pull the car over until they stopped shaking from it.

They arrived the bookshop after a light lunch. Aziraphale opened Crowley's side and guided him out by the hand, pointedly looking in the direction of Nina's coffee shop in case Mr. Brown was watching. He wasn't there.

"I want to show them," Crowley said. "You go inside and I'll tell them to stop by this afternoon."

"A wonderful plan. Do be good in there." Aziraphale was excited that Crowley was excited. He was looking forward to showing the pictures to their friends.

Crowley sauntered over the the coffee shop, disappointed to find that Mr. Brown wasn't there. He had several sassy one liners ready to go.

"Mr. Crowley! How nice to see you back in here!" She eyed the location of her bins, just in case.

"Hi! A tart for my tart, please. And some sort of froofy drink for him and that ginger tea for me, please."

"I take it you are feeling well today? We've missed you in here." She got to work on getting his order.

"Been a bit rough. Today has been a good day, though. Can't complain. Only got sick twice."

He looked around the shop. "Where's my dear friend, Mr. Brown?"

"You missed him. He was here early in the morning," she shouted over the coffee grinder.

Crowley scratched his chin. "Right. Guess I'll behave."

“I believe in you,” Nina laughed.

As he was leaving the cafe with goodies in hand, Crowley called out from the door, “Hey Nina! How ‘bout you and Maggie come round the shop when you're both free? We want to show you something.” He dashed across the street.

“I’m about to go on my break,” Nina called after him as she untied her apron. She put another barista in charge and jogged over to Maggie’s shop.

Crowley burst through the bookshop door out of breath. He handed the latte and tart to Aziraphale and took a gulp of his own tea. “We have about 3 minutes.”

“Three minutes?” Aziraphale stood up from his desk and pulled down on his waistcoat. “Whatever for? Oh? A quickie?”

“Love to, but no. Nina and Maggie. I invited them over to show them our pics. Told them to stop by when they're free. They're free. I can hear their feet pattering on the pavement.”

Aziraphale offered his chair to Crowley.

“Five, four, three, two, one…”

The door opened and a beaming Maggie and Nina stepped in. “Gentlemen! It’s good to see you both.” Nina said.

“Oh Mr. Fell!” Maggie said to the angel standing at Crowley's side. “You look just as radiant as Mr. Crowley.” She said as she sat down on the little sofa with Nina.

“Oh? I-I do?” He touched his face.

“Yes! Wait…are you? Can you both…? Like Mr. Crowley?” Maggie asked, wondering if there was an extra announcement heading their way. Is that what they wanted to show them?

“Beg your pardon, my dear? Like Mr. Cro– oh! Oh no. I’m not. No, not at all. Only one pregnant being here.” My word, he thought.

"You're always like the sunshine, Mr. Fell. Just extra sunshiny today." Maggie smiled at him.

"It's happiness, my dear. Just pure happiness."

"Right. Do you two want to see the cutest little partially identifiable blob?" Crowley held out the ultrasound pictures to them.

Maggie squealed with delight. Nina beamed. "I bet this makes it more real," Nina said.

Crowley smiled at her. "It does. Very real."

"What a cute little nugget. Almost looks like a Gummi Bear," Maggie giggled.

"Oh," Crowley gagged, "not the Gummi Bears."

After much cooing over the photos, Nina and Maggie returned to their shops and Aziraphale locked the door to his.

Crowley began climbing the stairs, stopping halfway to peer down at Aziraphale. “What was that you said about a quickie? I cleared the next 4 minutes from my schedule.”

Laughing, he ran up the rest of the stairs, grateful that the month long mental block had subsided for now and that he was able to fully enjoy sex with Aziraphale in whatever way he preferred - a quick fuck was on the menu for this moment.

Aziraphale was quick to follow, finding Crowley in the bedroom. He checked his pocket watch as he approached him.

They didn't make it past the edge of the bed. Most of their clothes didn't make it off their bodies. Crowley pulled off one trouser leg and one leg of his knickers. Aziraphale unfastened his trousers and leaned over Crowley as he pulled his cock out, quickly finding the slippery warmth between his thighs, and sank into him in one slow glide. His lips searched the bottom of the neck peeking from the unbuttoned collar of Crowley’s shirt. His eyes found the swells under the shirt at his chest. He wanted to touch them so badly, but would take Crowley's lead on that.

Crowley was once again elated to have Aziraphale thrusting deep inside him, hitting that sweet spot over and over and sending heat coursing through his center. He wrapped his legs around Aziraphale's buttocks and his arms around his shoulders. He buried his face in his neck and, when the first orgasm rocketed through him, he bit into the flesh there.

Aziraphale hissed in ecstasy at the bite, hitching Crowley’s knees up to his chest, immediately bringing about a second roaring climax from the demon, who clawed at the back of his waistcoat. Aziraphale had missed the feel of the tight heat and fluttering of Crowley’s inner muscles around his cock in this last month. He loved the swiftness in which he had brought on Crowley’s second climax and was aiming for the third. The swirl of energy deep in his pelvis grew and spread outward as the beginnings of his own orgasm began to spark.

"Kiss me," Crowley breathed, moaning loudly as Aziraphale's lips crashed against his. Crowley held tightly to Aziraphale, keeping his upper body upright and pressed to his angel, who was holding him up as he pounded between his legs. He put a hand to the back of Aziraphale’s head, palming the white curls, and pressed their foreheads together. The sound of his wetness squelching from the movement of Aziraphale’s cock inside him was making him heat up all over and he could feel the beginnings of his third orgasm budding deep inside. He was hot for Aziraphale, full of animalistic lust due to the pent up energy of the last month. He kept their heads pressed together, eyes tightly locked, as he felt the shuddering and shaking of Aziraphale’s legs and the familiar twitch of his cock. He drew him in closer, if that was even possible, with his legs. “Come inside me. Come with me, Angel,” he gasped, his own thighs beginning to shake. He was aware of the cool metal of Aziraphale’s pocket watch swinging against his belly as the angel fucked him.

Their opened mouths stayed pressed together during their shared climax, filling one another with hot breath and the vibrations of low moans and sharp cries. Crowley’s fingers remained tangled in the back of Aziraphale’s waistcoat, holding desperately, but careful to respect the century-old fabric. Crowley took a sharp breath as the pulse of hot liquid from Aziraphale coated him inside. “Oh…fuck…’Ziraphale.”

Aziraphale could only manage grunts wrapped in a higher-pitched cry as he felt Crowley tighten and flutter around his dick. Dizzy with his release, he focused on Crowley’s eyes and the feel of their breaths mixing together in their mouths. He was so happy that twice in the last 24 hours, he was able to bring pleasure to Crowley in this way again.

They came down from their high still pressed tightly together in several spots with laughing breaths. Crowley managed to get words out first, though slightly less elegant than anything Aziraphale may have said. “Fuck. Holy fucking fuck, Aziraphale.” He wiped sweat from his forehead. “I needed that.” He held him with a deep kiss.

“Thank you for fitting me into your tight schedule,” Aziraphale kissed his neck. “And your tight cunt.” He nipped him gently.

Crowley loved a dirty angel. “Perhaps I can arrange to have a slot open for you later tonight.” He laughed at his own dirty talk.

Aziraphale slipped out and fastened his trousers. He checked his pocket watch. “The very model of a quickie. Three minutes and forty seven seconds. That’s a climax per minute from my darling demon. Quite a record.” He snapped the pocket watch shut.

Crowley laughed as he pulled his knickers and trouser leg back on. “Talk dirty to me, Angel. Orgasm math makes me so wet.” They shared a sweet kiss.

Later that night, after non-mathematical lovemaking, Aziraphale lay next to Crowley, propped on his elbow, trailing a finger down the center of the demon’s soft chest with his other hand. He was transfixed by the small swells among the whisps of dark ginger hair. Sexually, he found them arousing. Emotionally, he found them miraculous as he thought of the small babe that would eventually feed there. And, somehow, there was a combined thrill of both the arousal and the emotion. The many nuances of his feelings as he watched Crowley change overwhelmed him in such a joyous way.

He trailed his finger down to Crowley’s low belly, feeling the pulse of their miracle. He leaned over and placed a gentle kiss there. “So tiny. So wanted. So loved,” he said to the little being nesting in there. Another kiss as Crowley combed his fingers through Aziraphale’s disheveled hair. Aziraphale lay his head on Crowley’s belly and just gave into the sensations from the fingertips in his curls for a while. He lifted his head and gazed up at Crowley, whose face was a picture of adoration. He moved back up to kiss his lips.

“You are a wonder, my dear boy. I thank you for doing such spectacular work to grow our baby and our family. Your body is a miracle.” He kissed him again. "You are a miracle."

Crowley’s eyes watered at the idea of his body being a miracle. Hadn’t it been, though? In just a few weeks, he managed to grow someone from the size of a poppyseed to the size of a raspberry, complete with little arms and legs and a heartbeat and all the bits that go into making a little baby. “Do you really think so?”

“I do,” Aziraphale whispered. “You’ve always been a miracle to me. How fortunate am I that I get to share that version of you with someone we both created? Sometimes, I feel like I might explode from the amount of love I feel for you. And for them.”

Crowley chuckled softly. “That would be quite a mess. And who would clean it up since you won’t let me lift a finger?”

Aziraphale joined in his laughter. "I'd have to possess a vacuum."

He brushed a hand through Crowley's hair, also wildly disheveled. “I wish you could see this all through my eyes. Even before the baby. The way you have let yourself be loved and to heal is an astounding source of inspiration.”

Crowley took a deep breath. “It’s hard. Always waiting for the other shoe to drop. For the lead balloon to come down on me. When that’s been your reality for 6,000 years it’s difficult to feel anything other than dread. Except when I’m with you. Now, you’re mine forever and -” he thought about it. Should this be the moment he asks him? “- I’d like you to stay mine forever.”

Aziraphale looked at him. “I’m afraid you signed up for that millennia ago. It just took us a few tries to get it right.”

Crowley decided to leave it at that for now. Soon, he told himself. He’d ask soon.

“This whole trusting my body thing is wild. ‘M not used to it. Maybe the sickness and the exhaustion have been rough, but I wouldn’t trade a single moment of them. I’d do it all again in a heartbeat. Over and over.”

He turned on his side and propped himself on his elbow in imitation of Aziraphale. “I know I’ve been annoyingly scared, but I’m also so, so happy. I need you to know that. My gnarled black heart doesn’t know what to do with all of this happiness. The fear creeps in the background and takes over now and then, but I have enjoyed the moments when I have been able to let myself truly appreciate all of this.” He wiped a tiny tear. “Today was incredible. I can’t believe you and I created that little blob on the screen.”

“The next time we see that little blob on the screen, they will look more like a regular baby. Just a tiny version. In my reading, the books say these next few weeks are such rapid development for both you and the baby.” He wiped a second tiny tear from Crowley’s eye. “We’ll take your feelings as they come. My darling, please know they are never annoying to me. You are doing this healing work so beautifully and I admire you more than I can express.”

They gazed at each other in silence for a few moments. “Can you believe Maggie thought you were pregnant? You always radiate, but you do shine extra these days.”

“Oh!” Aziraphale laughed nervously. “That’s the joy. Could you imagine a pregnant me? I wouldn’t do it nearly half as well as you.”

Crowley could certainly imagine it. In fact, he liked to imagine it. “Oh, I don’t think that’s true at all. My angel, all plump and full of my baby?" He glided his hand over his angel's beautiful belly. "That would be marvelous. I’d get to fuss over you. Protect you. Cook for you. Might regret that last bit.” He laughed. Truth was, Crowley was an excellent cook, he just never indulged in his talent.

“I’d probably leave Paris bereft of crepes.” Aziraphale laughed. He pushed the idea of him ever going through this deep down inside. Crowley style. “I can’t wait to meet this little fellow,” he changed the subject. “Drape them in tartan. Knit them little cardigans.”

“Oi! Forgot you can knit. Haven’t seen you do that in ages.”

“Perhaps I shall start again.” Aziraphale mastered many handicrafts in his years. He was already coming up with patterns for tiny sweaters and booties in his head.

They spoke of yarn and cozy sweaters and “not too much tartan” for a while longer before Crowley eventually nodded off to sleep.

Before he knew it, Crowley’s eighth week had passed into his ninth.

“This book says the baby is the size of a green olive,” Aziraphale shared helpfully, “yet another says they are the size of a cherry.”

“Mmmmm….Olives. Do we have any olives?” Crowley asked as he dried off from his morning shower and shave.

Two hours and one miracled jar of olives later, Crowley stood up from the toilet and wiped his jaw. “I will never eat another olive for the rest of my existence.”

The last week had been a whirlwind. They had seen their baby on the ultrasound. They resumed penetrative sex - and often. His symptoms were draining him and had not eased, but they had become almost routine. His body looked completely the same from below his chest down - no bump yet. New symptoms cropped up - a persistent metallic taste in his mouth and headaches that came when he couldn’t eat enough due to sickness. He waffled between elated and exhausted and cautious fairly consistently. He felt more connected to his body than ever before, allowing small moments to recognize tiny bits of healing, but also completely at its mercy in ways he had never anticipated. He was still checking constantly in the bathroom and fibbing about it.

Their nine week appointment featured a new diagnostic tool - the fetal doppler.

“It works almost like the ultrasound in that I’ll use a little gel on your belly and then run this probe over it,” Anathema explained. “I do have to place it pretty low, just like the ultrasound. Is that okay?”

Crowley took his deep breaths. “Yes.” He was trying his hardest to remain positive and confident, fighting away nagging thoughts and fears that told him he couldn't have this - that the room would be silent.

Crowley lowered his waistband so Anathema could examine him before she got the doppler ready. Anathema took her time, utilizing her unspoken ritual of touching Crowley safely on his arm before touching him elsewhere

“Oh, Crowley, you’re growing so well. That bump will be here before you know it," she said while palpating his abdomen.

When her hand grazed the dark auburn hair peeking from his waistband, he clenched his belly and his legs and shyly asked for a break before apologizing.

Anathema reassured him that she is there to work within the confines of his comfort level and apologies were not needed. They took a break and chatted about the new baby spider plant that was developing on the parent plant at the window.

When Crowley was ready, she took the doppler into her hands. She squirted a little gel on his belly and placed the doppler probe over it. What followed was their new favorite sound - a strong, steady heartbeat.

“172 bpm. Absolutely textbook. The heart rate will slow a bit in the next few weeks. That's very normal.”

Both Crowley and Aziraphale wiped happy tears. “I may never get used to such a beautiful sound, I’m afraid,” Aziraphale whispered on a shaky breath. He kissed Crowley's hand, which was strongly gripping his.

"We'll listen to this sweet little heartbeat every week from now until baby is born." Her voice was cheerful.

As they finished with the heartbeat, she asked if they had any questions. Fearful Crowley was replaced by cheeky Crowley.

"We're back to having sex - the pokey kind…"

Aziraphale began to blush and carefully studied his pocket watch, fiddling with the chain in his fingers.

"...Just wanted to tell you. It's…it's a big deal."

She wanted to hug him. Their conversation at the cottage regarding his past had moved her and stuck with her. "I know how much that level of intimacy has meant to you and I'm very happy for you both."

Back at the bookshop, Crowley slumped on the sofa in the flat. He figured he had a solid five minutes before he was out like a light. He was close - he made it to four minutes.

Aziraphale closed up the shop for the day, surprising no one, and took his post on an armchair next to the sofa. He planned to read, but all he could do was stare at Crowley and replay the sound of their baby's heartbeat in his mind. He rocked back and forth in the chair, squeezing and twisting at his fingers until the skin turned bright white from the pressure. He began to weep openly. As a guardian and a warrior, he felt strong in his role as protector of their new family. As a father, he felt scared. What if he failed Crowley? What if he failed the baby? What if he was never good enough for them? What if something happened to Crowley? Or the baby? What if it was his fault? What if Crowley was tired of all his fussing? What was birth going to be like? What if he couldn't handle seeing his beloved in pain? What if he was useless during the birth? What if he was annoying Crowley? What if the baby didn't like him? What if he said the wrong things to a demon processing the most soul destroying - literally - trauma? What if Crowley ever found out he had his own fears?

He stared at his beloved, curled up on the sofa, under the blanket Aziraphale had placed on him, drooling just a wee bit as he slept soundly. Aziraphale crept down the stairs and picked up the phone to call Anathema at the birth center.

"Aziraphale, is everything alright?" She sounded concerned. What if she was concerned because she secretly knew something was wrong?

"I was wondering if you had a moment to talk." He tried to sound cheerful, but was betrayed by the hitching breaths from his sobbing.

"Absolutely," she could tell that he had been crying. "Tell me what's going on."

"I…uh…well, I don't know…could it be normal…normal for a father to be to uh…." He gathered his thoughts and words and poured them out through the phone line, telling her every fear that he had and relaying his extreme guilt for even telling her all of this because Crowley's fears were so much greater. He had been through much worse in his existence and now he carried the burdens of pregnancy. He was back to fully crying by the end of his questions.

"Aziraphale," Anathema said gently. "Absolutely - it is normal for a father to have fears just like your own - not that normalcy makes it easier on you. Crowley is going through so many physical changes even though it's not entirely visible on the outside yet. He has a whole new world inside of him. It's often so hard at this stage for the other partner to understand what that's like and that leads to feelings of helplessness. You're seeing him feel unwell and you know of his emotional struggles. Your instincts are very honed to protecting him and fixing things. Pregnancy can make all of that seem much more urgent and unpredictable."

"I do feel very helpless sometimes. Especially since he gets so sick. He won't allow miracles for any of the symptoms and it's hard to not fix it for him."

"I have spoken to him a lot in recent weeks and he is unbelievably grateful for the way you take care of him. You may think that giving him a glass of water or stroking his hair while he is sick doesn't mean much, but it means the world to Crowley. I'll go out on a limb and say those moments mean more to him than miracles. He's utterly in love with you in ways no human could comprehend."

"I want to be enough," he sighed.

"You are, Aziraphale." She paused for a moment to figure out how to say this. "Crowley has a lot of his own trauma, obviously. But so do you. We were there for some of it. You deserve to have your feelings heard, too. They are just as valid." She paused again. "You are enough. I see that. I also see you hold back. Crowley would definitely understand you voicing your fears. In fact, it may make him feel better to know you have them. But…you deserve to talk this out. Whether it's with Crowley or me…or, believe it or not, Newt is a very good listener. I can also recommend a therapist who deals specifically with expectant and new parents. The point is, I think you need to take a load off your mind sometimes and that is perfectly okay. There is strength in that, Aziraphale."

Aziraphale listened intently. "You are quite wise, dear girl. I suppose I do need to express it more. "

"Being prepared is great, too. Taking childbirth classes helps you understand what to expect. I know you two have seen it all, but it's different when it's your own child. I can recommend classes. There are classes and support groups for expectant Queer couples, too."

"Oh yes," Aziraphale piped up. "Crowley found a brochure for one in the Downs." He looked towards his desk where he had left it.

"I encourage you to try that out. You may not find other angels and demons, but you'll find couples who are similar to you both and who experience worries like yours."

After more reassurance from Anathema and profuse thanks from Aziraphale, they hung up. He found the brochure on his desk and picked it up before climbing back up the stairs. Crowley was snoring softly in the same position. Aziraphale sat back in his armchair and tucked the brochure into the back pages of a childbirth book. He flipped through the first few pages. They had a long way to go before the birth, but preparedness is power, Aziraphale thought.

Crowley eventually stirred, stretching his long limbs over the sofa before sitting up. "Must've dozed for a few moments there."

Aziraphale peered from over his book. "It's nearly supper. You've been out for more than a few moments."

"Mmmm." He stretched again. "The whole day, gone just like that." He yawned. "Maybe we should go out for dinner. Something small?"

"Oh?" They hadn't been out to dinner since they found out he was pregnant. Lunches were okay, but Crowley was nervous about bigger dinners and how they might affect his stomach. Between that and his exhaustion, they preferred to stay home in the evenings.

"Might be nice to give you a break. Nothing fancy like the Ritz or that sort. Just a simple dinner, really." He felt like he could eat about 10 courses.

Aziraphale got up and yanked on his waistcoat before fiddling with a cufflink. He put his book back with the pile of pregnancy books that seemed to follow him everywhere.

"That's a rather nice idea. Let's do it. There's a darling little Italian place that recently opened just a short jaunt from here."

"I'll freshen up," Crowley said as he headed out of the parlour. He stopped and turned to look at Aziraphale, who was fussing with his pile of "preggo books" as Crowley called them. His heart…

"Aziraphale…come here." He held out his arms to the angel, who walked over to him and sank into his embrace. Crowley hugged him tightly for a long time, burying his face in the cloud of platinum hair. He tried to radiate as much love and protection and warmth as his exhausted body would allow into his angel.

He always knows, Aziraphale thought. Whether he outright heard the conversation with Anathema didn't matter. Crowley just knew.

At dinner, the waiter came to start them off with wine. Both of them declined.

"You don't have to completely stop drinking because of me, Angel."

"It's no matter to me. Besides, I am more concerned with dessert." He winked and patted his tummy.

Crowley was more concerned with bread, having finished the entire basket of the complimentary slices. The waiter brought them a second basket of bread and extra butter. Aziraphale managed to get one slice.

For a pregnant demon wanting "something small," Crowley ate through salad, an appetizer, and his main course. He was still hungry by the time dessert rolled around. Aziraphale had sfogliatelle. Crowley chose a panna cotta with berries and chocolate flakes. He happily indulged in it as he intently watched Aziraphale eat.

"I hope I don't regret this," Crowley said as his took his last bite of panna cotta. "Figure I may enjoy my food if it's all going to come up anyway."

"That's a healthy way to look at it. You know, I'm still a bit peckish? Fancy sharing some tiramisu? The dessert menu states they have a liquor-free version.”

"I'll definitely regret this, but let's do it."

Crowley found himself regretting their choice to walk to the restaurant. As Aziraphale groaned seductively - most certainly not on purpose, thankyouverymuch - around his dessert spoon, Crowley found himself with a different type of hunger. No longer able to focus on dessert, he focused on dessert, primarily in the form of a snack named Aziraphale. He was wet and his clit tingled at the sight of Aziraphale very obviously not fellating a spoon.

"Angel, if my gag reflex wasn't so questionable these days, I'd be under this table with a mouth full," he whispered.

"I beg your pardon?" Aziraphale asked innocently. "A mouth full of what?"

"You know…"

"I'm afraid I can't keep up with all the pregnancy cravings my dear. The answer could be anything from frozen peas to a Sunday roast. Who am I to presume?" He slowly licked his spoon. "Mmmmmm."

Frozen peas actually sound pretty good, Crowley thought.

"Angel. These damn hormones. Not pregnant, you know I would be driven wild. Now…I'm barely hanging on."

"Mmmmm. This just melts in the mouth." Aziraphale said in a low, rumbling voice, pointedly ignoring Crowley's pleading.

"Angel…"

"You know, Crowley, I seem to recall a day in our cottage kitchen with you and spoonfuls of peanut butter. Do you remember?"

Oh, not the peanut butter. Crowley swallowed a gag. "I do." Fuck, this was payback. He felt a wet trickle in his knickers.

Aziraphale rolled his eyes in ecstasy and sighed. "Ohhh, it's like velvety softness in my mouth and down my throat." He could tell no one was looking so he gave the spoon a broad, flat lick, flicking the tip of his tongue at the edge. Absolute bastard.

"Angel," Crowley swallowed, "please." This was erotic torture.

"Of course, my darling. Just as soon as I'm done with this dessert. Savoring food," he looked him in the eye, "any food, is an art form - one that should not be rushed. Mmmm."

"I'm going to have to run to the bathroom and rub one off." He was seriously considering it. He was actually going to have to masturbate in a public washroom.

"Mmmm. That would be rather impolite. And quite fucking hot." He put the spoon down. There was one bite left. "I don't know if I can take another bite.” He leaned back and rubbed at his thighs. Absolute bastard. He eyed the small leftover morsel. “Can you finish this, Crowley?”

Wait, was this a sexy dom moment or did Aziraphale really want his pregnant demon to eat? Or both? Crowley couldn't tell.

Aziraphale used a fork to push the leftover tiramisu onto the spoon. “Mmmm. Have a bite.” He held the spoon out, cupping his other hand under it, bringing it to Crowley's mouth.

Crowley took it into his mouth slowly, keeping eye contact, moaning like his angel, licking his lips to catch an errant crumb.

Aziraphale watched with the same enthusiasm he was used to seeing in Crowley’s eyes. “My, aren't we hungry? I must say, I’m feeling rather hungry myself.” He heard a faint whine slip out of Crowley. “I could eat you right here,” he said in a low, husky tone.

“Do it. Wouldn't be the first time we’ve done something like this." Crowley thought back to a time at the Ritz, not long after they first had sex. He had managed to slip under the table and remain concealed by the tablecloths. They had found it far more erotic not to hide with miracles. He remembered filling up on Aziraphale's pulsating cock and hearing the angel’s voice crack as he explained to the waiter that his companion just stepped outside to take an important phone call from his oral surgeon. Crowley was proud of Aziraphale for that one.

“That we have, my dear. However, the couple at the neighboring table have been enjoying this show and would surely notice me diving under the tablecloth.” He smiled. “I’m afraid you'll have to wait.”

Crowley was suddenly aware of the couple looking over at them. The gentleman had an amused look in his eye. The woman’s mouth was slightly opened. She winked at Crowley. He was slightly embarrassed and even more turned on.

Blushing, Crowley turned to Aziraphale. “Pay the cheque, please. Please, Angel. I’m dying.”

“Oh, that's a pity. I’m not into necrophilia. I only fuck live demons.” Mercifully, he snapped and the cheque was mysteriously at the table and paid, double the amount.

They walked home quickly. Crowley was feeling pretty good despite the throbbing between his legs. He was full, yes. Tired, yes. But he had enough in him for any bedtime activities.

Once through the door of the bookshop, Crowley attempted to pull him upstairs.

“Now, darling, I have been thinking I should tidy up down here.” Aziraphale straightened a stack of books.

“Angel, I’m pulling the pregnant demon card. Upstairs. Now.”

“Well.” He straightened his bowtie. “I am nothing if not charitable towards pregnant demons. I shall grant you mercy.” He chased Crowley upstairs.

Illuminated by the soft glow of the Tiffany lamp, their bed became a tangle of linens and limbs as Aziraphale buried his face between Crowley's thighs. It had been over a month since he tasted him and he was savoring every velvety morsel, just as he had in the restaurant. Crowley had already climaxed once, the second Aziraphale’s tongue found his clit, and was now chasing his second, squeezing the angel’s head with his thighs.

“Fuck, Angel,” he hissed. He was lost in the sensations provided by Aziraphale to his dripping folds. After the second climax powered through him, he pulled the angel up between his legs and rolled him over. He straddled him, finding the hard thickness and lining it up with his soaked opening. He arched his back as it slipped in slowly, gently making it's way through his yielding pink tightness. His cry was high pitched as he undulated his hips slowly and bounced gently on the cock. And there was number three.

Aziraphale held Crowley’s hips, eyes tracing the small swell of his chest, which was bouncing ever so slightly with his movements.

Crowley followed Aziraphale's eyes. He held onto the angel’s hands and pushed them up his torso until they covered his chest. “Touch me here. Don't be afraid,” he whispered.

Aziraphale felt a surge in his cock as his palms covered the soft flesh. The slight fullness beckoned him to taste. He sat up and looked pleadingly into Crowley’s eyes. “May I?”

Crowley was moaning from the feel of his hands kneading at the softness there. He loved having his nipples played with, but this was unlike anything he felt before. And that feeling was about to explode as he nodded his approval at Aziraphale.

Aziraphale regarded the soft and full flesh with wonder, the way he does the most delectable desserts in the world. Gently, he put his mouth over one, rolling his tongue around the nipple. He kissed it softly before bringing it into his mouth. The fullness of it within his mouth nearly brought him to his orgasm. He sucked and licked until he switched to the other side. One in his mouth and one in his hand. He groaned loudly as he felt his cock begin to pulsate.

Crowley held Aziraphale up, pressing him into his chest as he rode him. The wet heat of the angel’s mouth on his tits sent sharp jolts through his torso to his belly and finally his pussy. He felt a mix of emotions and sensations. The sight of Aziraphale kneading and sucking at him sparked some sort of loving protective feeling that mixed with the pure erotic pleasure pulsating all through him. He continued grinding himself back and forth and circling his hips. His hands roamed around Aziraphale’s upper back, one of them traveling up to become buried in the cloud of white blonde hair.

“Aziraphale,” he cried, his voice high and aching, “oh my fuck.” The tiny string tethering him to any sense of control was about to snap and he hurried his movement, bouncing himself wildly on Aziraphale's cock.

Aziraphale was barely thrusting, relying instead on the movements of Crowley's hips as his warm cunt gripped his pulsing cock. His nose was buried in Crowley's chest hair, lips and tongue caressing swollen flesh as he felt the unmistakable surge of his orgasm burst through to deliver his seed deep into Crowley. He moaned around the swell in his mouth, skin breaking into a sweat. Crowley’s writhing on his dick had quickened as the demon was at the mercy of his own orgasm, digging his nails into Aziraphale's back.

Completely spent and still straddling the angel’s scrumptious thighs, Crowley panted Aziraphale's name and held his head close to his chest. He enveloped him, dropping his face into his hair and kissing the top of his head.

“So thankful for merciful angels,” he sighed into a laugh. “I wouldn't have survived if that became one of your days-long dom sessions.”

“One must respect the pregnant demon card.” Aziraphale kept his face buried in Crowley's hairy chest, dropping soft kisses there. He softly ran his hands over him there. “These are a delight.”

“That felt so good, Angel. So different. So amazing.”

Crowley held him close like that for a long time, until his thighs ached and his bladder protested. "Ugh." He sighed. "I wish I didn't have to move." He kissed Aziraphale. "Why don't you come join me in the bath in a few minutes?"

When Aziraphale came in, Crowley was already in the tub with the water running and bubbles rising. "Stand there for a moment. Just wanna ogle you." He eyed Aziraphale's naked form up and down, taking in the perfectly luscious flesh and curves. "Absolutely stunning."

Aziraphale playfully shimmied his hips. Crowley braced Aziraphale's thighs - for safety, of course - as the angel stepped into the tub. "Don't want you to slip."

"Quite altruistic, my dear." Aziraphale sank between Crowley's legs and leaned back onto his chest, resting into the slow rise and fall of his ribs. "Ahhh," he sighed, splashing water over his chest and the top of his belly, “this was a most delightful evening."

"Mmm." Crowley kissed the top of his ear. "Glad we were able to go out for dinner. Still feel like utter shit everyday, but I can handle the evenings better lately."

"We had quite a lovely time tonight, my dear."

With breaks for kissing and playful splashing, they chatted aimlessly before retiring for the night.

"Stand over there," Aziraphale commanded, "now turn sideways."

"Angel, there is nothing to see yet," Crowley huffed as Aziraphale snapped his nine week photo. He had two days, including this one, to go until week 10 and, despite feeling the heaviness down below, was still frustratingly flat as a pancake.

"As I've said before, my dear fellow, you will be grateful for these. There are small changes day by day." Aziraphale snapped a few more pics before walking over to kiss his demon.

"You look especially smashing today." Crowley was in his regular jeans, sizing by miracle, snake belt, and the turtleneck with his waistcoat and silver tie. His Crowley uniform. He felt a little more normal in his typical clothing today. Aziraphale had insisted on the turtleneck.

"You say that everyday, Aziraphale," he said as he slipped his blazer over his arms. Crowley had already moved through his wake up, puke, shower, dress, breakfast routine. He was exhausted beyond belief and ready for his first nap of the day. Aziraphale had other plans, having noted that some time had passed since they took a walk at St. James Park.

"It's true everyday," he said as they made their way down the steps of the bookshop. "An angel never lies."

Crowley snorted.

Aziraphale donned an overcoat before handing the demon's black one to him. He wrapped a thick burgundy scarf around him. "We can't have a cold snake. Shall we head out?" He pecked a quick kiss on Crowley's cheek before wrapping himself in a tartan scarf.

Chapter Text

Standing at the edge of the water, Aziraphale threw frozen peas to waiting grateful ducks and other waterfowl. They each held a bag of the frozen peas. "I do love a stroll in the brisk sunshine of December." Aziraphale admired the bright blue skies and abundant sunshine.

"Hope the ducks don't mind frozen peas in December," Crowley said. He stuck his hand into the bag.

"They do look awfully happy to gobble them up," Aziraphale said as he tossed more in. "Perhaps we can bring roasted chestnuts next time," he laughed.

"Mfph, chethnuths" Crowley said with a full mouth. A few moments later - " Oh m'bag's empty," he said before stuffing a final handful in his mouth.

"You didn't even throw —" Aziraphale looked at Crowley, who was swallowing a mouthful of peas and clutching an empty bag. "Crowley. Crowley, did you really just eat that entire bag of peas?"

"MnNo." He chewed very slowly as if he could hide the evidence. He swallowed his crime. "Didn't." He looked down at the empty bag. Where did they go? "Right, let's go sit."

"What am I to do with you?" Aziraphale huffed as he walked over to their favorite bench.

“So much history here,” Crowley said as he draped himself onto the bench. He looked at Aziraphale. “Between us.” He squinted behind his glasses at the sun. “Good and bad.”

“Goodness abounds for us now, Crowley,” his voice was soft as he remembered all of their meetings in this spot.

“I asked for holy water here.”

“Hmmm, yes.” Aziraphale didn't like to think about it. The danger of the holy water and the fight over the request - he was only trying to protect his best friend - consumed him for a long time after. The ghosts of the emotions he experienced during that time still haunt him on occasion.

“Now we have a baby, floating in their own holy water.” He rested his hand below his belt, the snake dutifully keeping watch. “Guess I’m immune now.”

Aziraphale looked at his hands. “The thought of losing you has always weighed heavily on my soul, Crowley, but the holy water was something else entirely. “

“It’s over now, Aziraphale. That worry is gone.”

Aziraphale looked at him through his lashes. “Replaced by new ones, I’m afraid.” He went back to looking at his hands and twisting his ring.

Crowley took his hands in both of his. “You can talk to me, you know. I won't break.” He traced Aziraphale's ring with his finger. "Aziraphale, you didn't fall, but you went through hell. Our respective experiences and traumas don't cancel each other out. It’s not competition.”

Aziraphale continued to look at their hands clasped together. “Deep down, I know that, Crowley.” He looked up and groaned. “Becoming a father just adds new complicated layers. I…I wouldn't change that. I’m just getting used to it.”

“That's why we talk about it. It’s new for both of us. This whole experience is going to hit on a lot of pulse points and bring up old wounds. If we ride those waves together we will be fine.”

“I do suppose you're right.” He knew Crowley was right, but he also knew that his struggles with the idea of being a burden for having these feelings would take a long time to ease. If at all.

Crowley wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “C’mon. Tell me one worry. Doesn't have to be deep if you don't want it. And I'll tell you one of mine.” His heart began to beat rapidly.

“Oh…uh…well, here’s one. You may think it silly on account of all your experience and knowledge.” He sighed and looked at Crowley’s belly. “I’m afraid of watching you go through the pain of childbirth. And being helpless. And…and…being useless to you. What if I can't comfort you? What if I do something wrong?”

Crowley took a deep breath. Birth was one of his big fears. “Right. I’m scared of birth, too. I may have delivered countless babies, but never pushed one out of my own cunt. It's not silly to worry about that, Aziraphale.” He squeezed his shoulder. “I don't think you could do the wrong thing during the birth. Simply being there - that's what I need from you. Support me. Respect my choices. I do want to feel every part of it and I know it'll be scary and difficult for you to see that. As I said in the garden, just trust me. All I need is you being you. I need my Angel, my Aziraphale.” He smiled. “The birth is something we’ll talk about a lot in future months. That’ll help relieve some uncertainty, I’m sure. Talking is key. No more holding back.”

“On that we agree. I do trust you - implicitly. My goal is to be a stalwart support for you in all things.”

“As you always have been, Aziraphale.” His voice was quiet, serious. “That's the one and only constant in my life.”

"As you have been for me, my darling." Aziraphale contemplated what Crowley said about giving birth. "Perhaps a birthing class is in order," Aziraphale shyly offered.

Crowley smiled at him. "Perhaps, Angel." He almost piped up about how he doesn't need a childbirth class because he could teach one with all of his experience and, besides, some modern approaches are not helpful to him. He stopped himself before his mouth could open, thankfully. Crowley realized that such a class would likely be more for Aziraphale's benefit. Something that would make him feel useful and prepared. He made a mental note to look for a class that would at least cater more towards his approach to pregnancy and birth.

They quietly watched a couple and their two children near the water. One was a toddler and one was near school-age. They were excitedly waving at the ducks and running about the water’s edge. Both Aziraphale and Crowley could see that a third child would be joining their family in the next year. The mother contained a similar tiny glow of life like Crowley.

Crowley smiled watching the scene, imagining their own child coming with them to their favorite meeting spot and waving wildly at ducks and swans.

“Do you think that will be us someday?” he asked.

“Oh certainly. I often picture bringing our little one here. It’s such an important location in our history.” Aziraphale smiled at the thought of the little strawberry blonde in his visions toddling about the water’s edge, hand in hand with him and Crowley.

“I mean…more like them.” He nodded towards the family. “With…with more than one….” His voice trailed. He wasn’t sure what he was asking. Or why. He needed to have this baby first before ever thinking of more.

Aziraphale pondered over it. He’d thought of it before. Crowley had said the next one was on him and, frankly, he just didn't know if he could do that. Still, the idea of more babies sparked a soft glow in his heart. “That would be one of those ‘wait and see’ subjects, my dear.”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “Not the ‘wait and see.’”

Subject avoided for now.

Aziraphale let out a cleansing breath. “Now you tell me yours.”

“My what? Oh...oh right.” His heart was pounding and he felt sweat grow on his lower back. His legs felt a little numb and he suddenly had to pee. “Uh…I’ve faced Heaven and Hell. God and Satan. Nearly discorporated countless times. Survived innumerable abuses. Been through wars on all planes. Faced the end of the world twice. Thought I’d lost you on several occasions. Scary stuff, you know? I’ve remained brave in it all.” What the fuck was he even saying? Why was he giving a speech? His palms were sweaty.

“The bravest, my dear.” Aziraphale smiled, not sure where Crowley was going with this.

“Right. And now one of the scariest things I am encountering at the moment is…is…uh…” He rocked back and forth and rubbed his palms on his thighs as if he was Aziraphale. What he meant to say was something about the unknowns of pregnancy. What he actually said was, “this creature sitting right here on our bench who has been through it all with me.”

Wait, where was he going with this? Crowley panicked and tried to reel in his thoughts. Why was he so impulsive? Why were his words coming out before his brain had a moment to slow down and think? This is the moment his mind...er...heart was choosing to do this? He didn't ever think it would go like this. Not in a million years. This was not part of his plans.

“You're scared of me?” Aziraphale raised his eyebrows. “Crowley, are you alright?” The demon's increasing nervousness had been obvious.

“I'm…terrified…of…uh…” his eyes searched the trees and the blue sky for words. He looked to the ducks, who were clearly quacking in mockery at him, for help. He tried to take a deep breath, but the cold air tickled at his throat and he ended up coughing. Aziraphale rubbed his back.

“I've been too scared to ask you to," his breath was caught in his chest for a moment and his voice wavered, "marry me.”

All of the blood in his body was immediately at his feet. His skin went clammy and he felt more sweat drip down his back towards his waistband. He unraveled the scarf around his neck with shaky hands and unbuttoned his coat.

“Oh my…someone…I…I didn't think I’d do it like this," he said with a shiver in his voice.

Aziraphale's voice broke. “Crowley…I…” he looked into Crowley’s glasses. “Could you…could you take your glasses off, please?” If this was really happening, he wanted to look into his beloved’s eyes. His heart raced and pounded and his ears rang. He wasn't sure if he even heard the words correctly - words he longed to hear. Words he longed to ask. Was this actually happening?

“Did you just ask me…?” His voice broke again.

Crowley removed his glasses, revealing the glimmer of tears and light in his citrine eyes. He began to ramble." I don't have a ring yet and…and…I didn't even know that was going to come out until it was actually happening and uh...uh…I don't want to ruin this moment for you - I should have planned better…much better...but here we are and…oh, I have no idea what I am doing or saying.” He blew out a breath and laughed nervously, rubbing his eyes.

“You're doing and saying perfectly, my dear.” His voice was soft and reassuring. After all this time, this truly was the most perfect way to be asked, he thought.

“Am I?” Crowley blinked back his tears. “I had thought this would be a big perfect moment at the Ritz," he spread his arms open wide and waved his hands in the air gracefully, "with champagne and an actual ring and all the dessert you could eat.” He laughed and held Aziraphale's hands in his. “And here we are. All we’ve been through and I propose here, next to ducks, after I ate an entire bag of peas, and I’m sweating like a demon in church.” He was rambling again. He took a steady breath over his nervous laugh.

Aziraphale's own tears were beginning to fall. “Crowley. This is us, is it not? This right here is a big perfect moment.” He held Crowley’s face in his hands. “So perfect.” He leaned in to kiss him, but Crowley stopped it.

“I need to further make a fool of myself and do at least one thing properly.”

Crowley stood up and smoothed out his clothes and ran a hand through his hair before slowly dropping down to one knee. He was shaking the way he did the day he slumped onto the floor after seeing the lines on the pregnancy test. What a difference between then and now. He looked into the serene blue eyes he’s stared at a million times before.

“Aziraphale…” Was he supposed to use formal names and titles? He wasn't sure. Ah, fuck the overthinking, he thought.

“Aziraphale, you’ve stood with me for countless moments since Heaven. Whenever I felt lost, whether you were with me or not, you were my guiding star. This bond of ours has kept me steady through the worst of times." He paused, searching Aziraphale's eyes, his Adam's apple bobbing. "I would fall a billion times over if it meant I would be with you. We get to keep our happiness now. You give me so much joy. So much comfort and hope. You've given me our baby. I’ve never imagined a life where I could begin healing, yet here I am. Healing. Because of you and your faith in me. And…and…oh fuck, I'm rambling. I’ve loved you since I created the stars, Angel, and I’ll love you long after this eternity. Right. So. Aziraphale, will you marry me?”

Aziraphale's head was reeling. His memory flashed through moments of time with Crowley. Their first meetings in Heaven as angels and then on Earth as supposed enemies. Constantly finding one another. The Arrangement. Near misses and near endings. The many conversations on this very bit of land over centuries, for better or worse. Their first 'I love You.' The first time they made love. Rocky Horror. Their miracle. The moment Aziraphale held a sobbing Crowley in his arms on the bathroom floor. The feel of their baby's lively warm energy and the sight of that tiny baby on the screen with the glorious sound of their heartbeat. Crowley's healing. He was overwhelmed in his love for Crowley and for their new family.

He became aware that they were still in public when he heard someone yell, “Say yes!”

He thinks at every moment of every day that Crowley couldn't possibly be more beautiful. Yet, there he was, on one knee, holding Aziraphale's left hand, his golden eyes ablaze in the sunlight, carrying their child, looking more beautiful than ever.

“Yes,” he croaked. Tears were free-falling down his delicious round cheeks. “Oh Crowley, yes. Yes!”

Crowley was upright in a flash, pulling Aziraphale to his feet and bringing him in for a deep, tearful kiss. “Yes?” His question arrived on a throaty cry.

“Yes,” Aziraphale whispered, kissing him again.

The sound of soft applause from onlookers, including a few totally not spies, echoed in the air around them.

Crowley leaned his forehead down onto Aziraphale's and held his face in his hands. “I love you,” he said with a quivering voice.

“I love you,” Aziraphale answered. He hugged him tightly. Crowley was still trembling.

“Let's sit you down, my dear boy.”

“Well, that was a thing,” Crowley said as he let Aziraphale guide him to sit on the bench. He pulled out his phone. "Selfie, please." He held the phone up, hand still shaking, and pressed his cheek to Aziraphale's. They both beamed with what looked like actual stars in their eyes as Crowley snapped the photo.

"One more." This time, he turned to kiss Aziraphale at the moment he snapped the photo.

“Cheeky.” Aziraphale laughed. They kissed again, passionately, lost to the world around them.

"These good people are getting quite a show," Aziraphale laughed as Crowley peppered light kisses along his jaw to his ear. He found his lips and kissed him again and again.

"Loving you openly, being publicly affectionate and maybe just slightly inappropriate is something I've waited to experience for my entire existence." Crowley kissed his forehead, down his nose, and back to his lips. "Let them look."

They pressed hands to faces and lips to lips for a bit longer before Aziraphale spoke again. "You're still trembling and a touch clammy. Is it nerves or hunger or do you not feel well? The cold?" Aziraphale, despite his soaring heart, found himself his fix-it mode.

Crowley smiled at his fussing angel. "Bit of all four plus the usual bone deep exhaustion. She's hitting hard today."

Crowley was running on fumes and adrenaline, starving and nauseous. He felt he may be on the brink of collapse. It didn't matter. He was currently the happiest demon in the universe.

"Shall we head home?"

"Can't. Need food." Crowley patted his tummy.

"The little café here is open," Aziraphale offered.

"Mmm. More in the mood for pub food, actually. Not the most romantic engagement lunch, is it?"

"Darling, we could sit in a dirty alley and eat jelly babies for all I care. If it's with you, it's romantic. Pub food sounds divine." Aziraphale patted his own tummy.

"The one in Crown Passage - the uh, uh Red Lion. It's close enough." He stood up, put his phone in his pocket, buttoned his coat and wrapped his scarf back around himself. The heat from both his nerves over the engagement and their kissing was waning and he was beginning to feel the cold air on his sweaty skin.

Crowley offered a hand to Aziraphale and pulled him to standing, kissing him once again when they were face to face. He pulled a fuzzy off of the angel's scarf. "Just one more." He went in for another deep kiss, holding Aziraphale's hips tightly against him.

"Hopefully, lunch gives me enough energy to properly celebrate at home." He lied about 'just one more,' and pressed another passionate kiss to Aziraphale's lips.

"One must be thankful for hot kisses lest our lips freeze in this cold." Aziraphale said. Yet another kiss. "Come now, let's get you and that baby full of greasy sandwiches and chips."

They walked hand in hand, leaning closely into one another, smiling and giggling. Passersby couldn't help but smile at the two besotted idiots. They inspired upwellings of love and happy feelings in anyone who saw them.

"Hey! Hey!" A voice called from behind them.

They turned to look and saw a person running after them. Aziraphale tightened his grip on Crowley's hand and positioned himself in front of him in a protective stance.

"Hey!" The person slowed to a brisk walk as they got closer and held their hand up. They caught their breath. "So sorry to intrude. Hope you don't mind." They wheezed for a moment. "Not much of a runner." Their accent was a mix of English and a distant land.

Aziraphale continued to brace his body close to Crowley's, keeping his front covered.

"That was really nice - your proposal." They caught more breaths.

"Ah, why yes. Thank you." Aziraphale answered cautiously. His pounding heart slowed.

Crowley sensed benevolent energy and gave Aziraphale's shoulder a squeeze. "S'alright, Angel," he whispered so only Aziraphale could hear. Admittedly, he adored the protective side of Aziraphale.

"Name's Astra. I took a couple of pictures of your big moment and just wanted to see if I could share it to your phone?" They held up their phone to display a photo of Crowley on his knee in front of an emotional Aziraphale.

"Oh…oh how lovely, my dear." Aziraphale wasn't letting his guard down, but he offered one of his sunshine smiles.

Crowley noted his trousers felt just a tick tighter as he dug his hand into his back pocket to pull out his phone and nearly fumbled it in the struggle. He really should have kept it in his coat pocket instead, he thought.

"I can do a nearby share?" They asked. "I have four photos." They scrolled on the screen. "I have this when you knelt down." Scroll. "This one is when I think you said 'yes' - that's what it sounded like." Scroll. I hope you don't mind this one." It was a photo of their kiss when Crowley pulled Aziraphale up from the bench. Scroll. "And, finally, this one." The last photo featured Crowley smiling as he held Aziraphale's face in his hands.

"Those are great," said Crowley, looking at the pictures from behind Aziraphale's shoulder. "We can do a nearby share." He put a hand on Aziraphale's back and noted how tense and firm his muscles were, even through the coat. Ready to fight. "I'm alright," he whispered into the angel's ear and stepped closer to Astra.

Aziraphale remained on guard, chest up, a hand still on Crowley as the demon leaned toward Astra with his phone. He sensed the benevolent energy as well and believed Crowley, but old and new instincts surged through him and kept him at the ready.

Crowley and Astra fiddled with their phones for a moment as the pictures transferred over.

"Thank you," said Crowley, "this means a lot. Truly."

"How generous of you," said Aziraphale, still protectively guarding his demon.

"Um…hope it doesn't seem strange. Some random stranger taking pics. It's not safe for me to be out in my family and I've never seen a real queer couple get engaged before. This gave me hope for my future." They looked down at their phone. "Took me a moment to muster the bravery to approach you."

"Oh…" Aziraphale's face softened.

"We know what it's like to be unsafe among our families and to have to hide our true selves and our relationship." Crowley looked at Aziraphale and then back to Astra. "I assure you, there is hope. You will find it." An old bitter piece of Crowley crumbled away.

The three exchanged a few more pleasantries and gratitude before parting.

"Help them find their people and their safe spaces, Aziraphale." Crowley's voice was eager as he looked back at the figure walking away. He wished he could deliver his own miracles.

"Already done, my dear. Already done." He hooked his elbow around Crowley's and leaned into him as they headed to the pub.

They were quickly seated in the pub and ordered right away. "What's that charming word you've used? Angry hungry. Hungry anger?" asked Aziraphale as he pulled his overcoat off.

Crowley laughed softly. "Hangry, Angel."

"Ah, yes. We don't want a hangry demon. I trust our food will be out before we know it. Do you feel alright?"

"M'okay. Time to hit the loo, though. S'posed to be a trans safe space. Hope so, because if I get shit, I'm pissing on someone’s face," Crowley declared as he got up, dropping his coat onto the booth before heading to the toilet.

"We do have a 'hangry' demon," Aziraphale said to himself as he watched slinky hips swagger away.

Crowley was happy to find their food being served just as he came back.

"You fellas been 'ere before?" asked the server as she placed Crowley's plate down.

"Only for the last 400 years or so." Crowley winked. It was true. The charming pub with it's blackwood facade and leaded windows had seen half a millennia of history through it's doors, with Aziraphale and Crowley present for some of it.

Stuffed and less hangry, Crowley fiddled with his belt. "Think I need to loosen m'belt," he groaned. "Worth it, though." He picked up the last crumbs of his chips and dropped them into his mouth.

"A fine lunch, indeed. I'm happy to have a well-fed demon." He dabbed the corners of his mouth with a napkin.

"Gonna have to roll me home, 'Ziraphale. I think…I think these trousers are too tight for walking." He cracked up over the notion.

Aziraphale joined in the laughter. "Pregnant or not, your trousers have always been too tight for walking."

"What a day so far. Thought we were just going to feed the ducks. We end up engaged, celebrating non-alcoholicly at a pub, and I've stuffed myself enough to live up to all your teasing about my trousers."

"Perhaps it would be more to your liking if the Bentley was parked on King Street? I'd only have to roll you a small bit through the passage?"

Crowley smiled. "Thank you, Angel." He kissed him on the cheek. "You get to drive. I am sinking my ass into the sofa for a solid snooze the second we get home."

Crowley did not, in fact, sink his ass into the sofa once they got home. His ass, however, was pressed against Aziraphale's desk as the angel quickly thrust into him. His legs were wrapped around Aziraphale's hardworking buttocks while his hands scrambled for purchase anywhere, knocking over antique snuff boxes, the rotary phone off the hook, nearly pulling the roll top down and fanning papers everywhere.

"Do be careful my dear," said Aziraphale in a staccato beat as he pounded even harder.

He had thought their first celebratory fuck after getting engaged would be a slow, gentle affair, but a very horny demon couldn't keep his hands off the angel's thighs in the Bentley. They had barely made it through the front door before they comically tried to yank Crowley's trousers down together. The demon had been correct - they were tighter than usual.

Crowley had similar thoughts. His intentions had been pure - he was serious about taking a nap once they arrived home. He figured they had all night to celebrate and make sweet, gentle newly-engaged love. However, the strain of Aziraphale's trousers against his thighs and the way his fingers grasped the steering wheel as he drove the Bentley caught his attention and brought about a second wind. And Aziraphale' protectiveness earlier? Oof. Crowley's hormones went wild for him. A very horny second wind.

As such, there they were. Shades had been hastily drawn to keep any passing human from peering into the windows, but who knows if they could hear the sounds coming from within. It was something neither of them accounted for.

Aziraphale found himself grasping onto the rolltop with one hand as his body shook while he spilled into Crowley.

Crowley arched his back and head, giving Aziraphale a view of his sharp jawline and the long neck stretching out from the turtleneck. A view he couldn't resist as he dropped heavy kisses to both. Crowley crumpled papers and knocked a pile of small books as he was overtaken by his pleasure.

Despite the cold outside, they were soaked with sweat inside. Behind the shades, the windows found themselves fogged up.

They both panted "I love you" into searching, open mouths as Aziraphale supported Crowley's back and pulled him closer, helping him stand up from the edge of the desk.

"Oh…uh oh," Crowley said, looking behind himself. "I hope I didn't drip onto anything important. He held his hand under his cunt, catching the small amount of his wetness mixed with Aziraphale's cum that was slowly sliding out of him.

"Not to worry," reassured Aziraphale, "nothing a quick tidy can't help." Who was this non-fussy angel? "Now, where did your trousers end up?"

"Uhhhh….good question." A bare-assed Crowley looked around. He remembered Aziraphale giving them a final yank and then tossing them -

"There!" He pointed to the bust quite a few feet away. It's nose peeked out from behind the trousers. "Good arm," Crowley laughed.

"Shall I help you back into them?" Aziraphale pulled up his own trousers.

"Nah. Just gonna head upstairs, Winnie the Pooh style."

"My favorite." He turned to snap his desk back into order - well, Aziraphale-style order.

Upstairs, Crowley began to remove his waistcoat and shirt. He looked himself over in the mirror, hand running over his belly.

"How is this fair? My trousers felt tighter this afternoon. "Guess that was just a food baby." He pouted. "Other people have bumps by now."

"And many others do not. All bodies are different." Aziraphale walked up and hugged him from behind. "You're very tall with a long torso. That's a lot of room."

"Hmph," was all Crowley managed. The flat belly nagged at his brain, so his visit to the toilet a few minutes later involved lots of wiping and checking. He was so frustrated with himself. He knew that everything was okay. He knew their baby was safe. Nothing was wrong. Yet, some other part of his brain was convinced he'd miscarry at any moment. That particular brain nugget insisted he wipe until he was dried out in order to make sure there wasn't any blood. It was mentally exhausting and physically painful.

Crowley got his nap, sleeping away for a few hours while Aziraphale sat with his tea and his books. And a creampuff for good measure.

Crowley awoke with a start and ran to the bathroom, leaving part of his lunch there.

"Ugh," he said as he came out. His morning sickness had been vicious each day, but he had been puking less in the afternoons. He had hoped it would leave him alone on this special day.

He plopped onto the bed, pulling the sheet over his naked body. Aziraphale was waiting with a glass of ice water, which he gratefully drank.

"Sorry, Angel" he mumbled.

"Whatever for?" Aziraphale threaded his fingers through Crowley's hair.

"I know we already talked about this earlier. I just feel like I could have done a better job at proposing. And now I'm puking. I’d hoped we could at least do a nice dinner.” Crowley trailed a finger on the back of the hand in his hair.

“Crowley, the proposal was perfect. I wouldn't dream of another. Everything about it was us. For Heaven’s sake, I’m not that fussy.” He laughed, stroking Crowley's hand. “Now, I do wonder why you are vomiting…”

“Wot? ‘Cause I’m pregnant. The…uh…corny Lucifer thingie Anathema said was making all these symptoms.”

“Corpus Luteum.” Aziraphale smiled. “You get sick because you're pregnant - exactly. You are spending every microsecond of everyday creating a new person. All of your energy goes to building up this new life. Please don't ever think that your symptoms are an inconvenience to me.”

He rubbed Crowley's back. “I would love to fix you supper if you're up for it. Or, we could stay right here and rest.”

“Mmmm,” Crowley pressed his face into the pillow before turning over to look at Aziraphale. “I think I could manage a light supper.”

“Excellent, my dear. I’ll get started. Why don't you rest for a bit longer?”

“C’mere first.” He pulled Aziraphale down toward him for a long, slow kiss. “Mmmm. Off you go.”

Crowley lay in bed for a while more, very tired but unable to sleep. He stared at the exposed timbers of the ceiling and lightly grazed his fingers on his belly.

Aziraphale was right, he thought. A fancy proposal would have been lovely, but today had been perfectly imperfect. Just like they were. The last minute stumbling of words and the trembling and the awkwardness of it all. It was very them.

Now he was so much closer to his dream. Engaged. Husband-to-be. He really would be Mr. Fell. Anthony J. Fell, husband to A.Z. Fell. Having their baby. Maybe having another in the future. Or, fathering one if Aziraphale was amenable. I’m allowed this. I can be happy. Hopeful, too, he thought.

He stayed lost in his thoughts for a while longer, listening to the happy bustling of Aziraphale in the kitchen, before getting up and getting dressed.

He dressed simply in black pyjama pants and a dark green tee with a very deep V cut. “May as well give him a show,” he laughed to himself. He did one more check in the mirror in case he had popped - he hadn't - and made his way to the kitchen. He was still nauseous, but very hungry.

Well, fuck. Aziraphale was standing at the counter in just shirtsleeves and braces. No waistcoat. Crowley had a thing for an angel in braces. He wasn't going to be able to concentrate on dinner.

He walked up behind him and wrapped his arms around his luscious belly. “Mmmm. This is the only dinner I need, right here." He gently bit his neck.

Aziraphale groaned and turned around. “I see you're feeling better.” He looked Crowley up and down. “Ohh,” he exhaled slowly.

Crowley stood before him, slightly disheveled, which was incredibly hot, in one of Aziraphale's favorite colors on him, in a deep V-neck that not only showed off his new form, but also showed his chest hair. His pyjama bottoms were draped low on his hips just so. Aziraphale was feeling things. Things that made him want to bend Crowley over the dinner table and have his way. Yet…dinner was almost ready and he wanted his demon well-fed.

“I would like to make a request,” Crowley said. He barely survived when Aziraphale had turned around. Not only had he been in shirtsleeves and braces, but he had also loosened his bowtie and unbuttoned the top three buttons of his shirt, showing off his curly silver hairs. Fuuuuuuuuuuck.

“Anything, my dear.”

Crowley ran his hands along one of the braces. “Dress like this just a tiny bit more often.”

“I’m not dressed any differently than usual.” Aziraphale looked down at himself, confused.

“Mmmm, but you are. Just braces, sleeves rolled up, bow tie undone, buttons unbuttoned with this delicious hair out. Fuck, I’d get pregnant just looking at you.”

“That's already accounted for, my dear boy. Since we’re taking requests, I have one of my own.”

“Mmmm. What's that?” Crowley could feel his face flush.

“These shirts. Anything that shows of those remarkable tits of yours. And your slutty little hips in these pants.” He traced a finger from Crowley's collarbone down to the point of his V-neck. He pressed a kiss to a collarbone.

“Mmmmmm.” Crowley was getting hotter. In fact, he could hear himself sizzle.

He could hear himself sizzle?

“Oh fuck!” Aziraphale turned to the stove. “My potatoes. And my gravy. Shit!” He turned burners down and laughed. “Nearly ruined our dinner because those tits have me all flustered.”

“The language on this angel.” Crowley sucked his teeth. He looked down at his belly. “Good thing you can't hear, yet. Papa has a mouth on him sometimes.”

“Oh yes, because Daddy speaks like a Sunday School teacher.” Aziraphale rolled his eyes and laughed.

He handed Crowley a potato masher. “Here, you get to have a job. Mash these potatoes for me.” He pointed to Crowley’s bare feet. “Finally got you barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen.”

They shared laughs as they finished making dinner together.

“Quite a light supper,” Crowley laughed. “Lemon chicken, peas, mash, salad.”

“You're a growing boy, my dear. Besides, I thought you may like to try cooked peas this evening.”

“The frozen aren't half bad. They hit the spot.” He took a bite of his mash. “Mmmmmm. I could eat 10 pounds of these.”

“Absolutely not, my dear. I’d be heartbroken if my famous mash and gravy turned into one of your “never again” foods.” He laughed.

After dinner, Aziraphale shooed Crowley from the kitchen while he cleaned up and started making the pudding the demon had suddenly requested for dessert. Aziraphale found a simple delight in catering to whatever cravings popped up.

Crowley was in the parlour watching tv when Aziraphale finally emerged carrying a small tray with their pudding and a pitcher of water.

“What are we watching this evening?” he asked as he placed the tray on the tiny coffee table. “Ah, I see, your sparkle vampires.”

“Twilight, Angel. And I fast-forwarded to the only good parts of it with this chap.”

“Ah yes, your Welsh fellow.” With the smallest hint of jealousy, Aziraphale eyed the figure on the screen - pale skin with red eyes and long black hair, the character was currently delivering a creepy squeal of a laugh at a small child.

“Oi! You have your Scottish fellow. I can have my Welsh fellow. He’s so fucking hot. Lick the sparkles right off this one, that's what I’d do.” He licked the pudding off his spoon to make a point.

Aziraphale clicked his tongue. “My word.”

“Hey, I keep telling you that you need to dress up as this lad for Halloween. You'd look just like him. Oh, the things I would do to you,” he growled through a giant smile.

“But he’s a naughty character.”

Crowley squinted his eyes. “Is he, though? That's a grey area. Have you seen how annoying the good guys are?” He pouted at his now-empty pudding bowl. “Besides, I thought you had a thing for bad boys.” He winked.

“Just one of them. And he’s not that bad once you get to know him.”

“Oh, shut it.” Crowley gave a wicked grin.

They watched a few minutes more. Aziraphale gently caressed his own thighs. Absolutely not on purpose, thankyouverymuch.

It wasn't long until Crowley noticed and turned the TV off, pulling Aziraphale by the hand into the bedroom.

What started out hot and heavy turned into something slower and much more deliberate as the two of them reflected on all that had transpired over the day.

Aziraphale left worshipful kisses all along Crowley's body from his head to his feet. He went down each vertebra until he reached his tailbone. From cheeks to the backs of legs to the bottom of his feet. His entire face all the way down his neck to his chest and his belly. He stopped extra long with much reverence at his low belly, leaving blessings there as well. A delightful kiss to his labia before continuing down his thighs. Even his armpits were given attention. Bum, too. Aziraphale surmised that barely an inch of the demon went unkissed, unworshipped.

“I bless and I praise this body and the entire wondrous creation of it.” Blasphemy be damned, Aziraphale thought. Each kiss had bestowed his own divinity, shielding Crowley’s body and everything within it in the mightiest protection. He landed back at Crowley's lips and kissed him.

Crowley’s heart was squeezed by love and warmth. It wasn't the first time he’d been worshiped by Aziraphale like that, but the impact this night was about to crack him into a million little pieces of joy. He felt his angel’s divine protection all over and through his being - on this plane and others. His body and mind swirled with a mix of sensations of the erotic and emotional variety.

Even the movement of Aziraphale within him felt like a divine blessing. It brought him back to the night they conceived, when they briefly intermingled their celestial essences. In this moment, he could see and feel their other plane, wings out and wrapped around one another as they moved in unison.

Their lovemaking lasted late into the night until the bed was completely soaked in their sweat, tears, and the wonderful wetness of sex. Both were nearly delirious by the end of it.

Crowley held Aziraphale in his arms, their faces streaked with tears and sweat, hair stuck to skin. They had so much to look forward to, but for a small moment he wanted tonight to last forever. He buried his face in Aziraphale's hair and inhaled the sweaty lilac scent. “I love you,” he whispered over and over until they were both asleep.

Chapter Text

Crowley could tell when he awoke that it would be a morning with a rare reprieve from immediate sickness. He was extremely grateful because Aziraphale was still in his arms, lightly dozing and he could lay there and enjoy the feel of him. The weight of him fully relaxed on Crowley's chest was a soul-soothing comfort for the demon. He carded his fingers through his soft hair and kissed his forehead. Rays of sunlight danced on the ceiling and Crowley wondered whether they were coming from the actual ball of flame in the sky or from the most perfect face in front of him.

Crowley was elated and couldn’t stop the huge smile that started to spread across his face. It had actually happened. They were engaged. He noticed an odd feeling creep in - he was proud of himself - proud that his impulsive nature brought him to the moment where he asked his angel to marry him. He looked at the serene face resting on his chest and sighed. He made a conscious effort for that very moment to let himself experience the happiness he was feeling without complicating it. Here he was in bed with his lover - his fiancé wrapped in his arms, their baby safely tucked in his belly.

Aziraphale stirred and opened his deep azure eyes. They shone with different shades of blue peppered with hints of green and gold in the sunlight. He stretched up to kiss Crowley. “Good morning, my love.”

“Good morning. Looks like I got you before you got my freckles,” he laughed quietly. He adored a sleepy Aziraphale.

“One must remedy that.” Aziraphale began kissing freckles. “Ah, a new one on this chest of yours. What a treat for me.”

Crowley laughed at the tickly feeling of Aziraphale's lips on his skin. He squeezed him tighter. “Don't know how long we’ve got until I need to make a mad dash.”

Aziraphale moved back to Crowley's face and kissed him. “Maybe you won't this morning.”

“Oh, I assure you I will.” Even though he was annoyed with getting sick in the afternoon yesterday, he wasn't ready for morning/all-day sickness to be over. It was a consistent reminder that he was pregnant.

“I want to tell you something that I didn't want to bring up last night while we were making love.” Aziraphale lightly caressed Crowley's torso.

“What is it?” Sometimes, Crowley couldn't help the tiny smile on his face when Aziraphale said things like, "making love." Even though Crowley himself used those words at times. Even though that's exactly what they did. There was something quaint about the way Aziraphale said it.

“Your body feels different. Quite different.”

“Does it? How so?” Crowley wondered if he should be concerned, but he doubted Aziraphale would broach the topic in this manner, stuck together with their own sweat and fluids, if it was something troubling.

“When I'm inside you, I can feel certain changes. Uh…you see…well, I don't think you have a frame of reference for this because when you fuck me the anatomy is quite different as are our shapes.”

Crowley smiled again, bigger this time. Aziraphale explaining very obvious sex facts was simply adorable.

“With this gentle lady here…uh…when I…uh…thrust and I am pressed on top of you, sometimes I can feel the movement of muscles way down low. Sometimes, I can see it.” He pointed to just above Crowley's mons.

Crowley had noticed that in the past, too.

“Last night, when I was laying on top of you and…uh…thrusting,” he whispered that last word, to Crowley’s amusement, “well, I could feel your uterus against my belly. Very firm, very obvious. It’s the first time I’ve really noticed it.”

“Oh.” Crowley was happy to hear this. He could feel it with his hands. And, while there wasn't an obvious difference when he looked in the mirror, he was happy to hear that there was something noticeable for Aziraphale to feel without guiding his hand there.

“That's actually reassuring,” he said. Now for teasing. “Please say “thrust” one more time. And do only refer to my cunt as “gentle lady” from here on out.” He laughed into Aziraphale's neck.

Aziraphale climbed on top of Crowley. “With pleasure my dear. I’d love to thrust my thick cock into your gentle lady.” He playfully kissed him.

They laughed and teased one another until silly words and kisses turned into more serious moans and licks and Aziraphale's thick cock did indeed find itself thrusting into Crowley’s gentle lady.

Their day followed a pattern of lazy naked cuddles, silly and sometimes serious sex, and sweet conversations. There were interludes when they came up for air to eat. Crowley was almost relieved when he finally found himself hunched over the toilet that afternoon.

Aziraphale had planned to add some Christmas flourish to his shop for the holiday season, but their lovemaking and long conversations won out. Somewhere in that time, they made plans to head to the cottage the next day and stay until it was time for Crowley's 10 week appointment.

>

The following morning was not as kind to Crowley. He made up for the lack of serious sickness the previous day. For the first time in this entire pregnancy, he did not make it to their bathroom. He didn't even make it off the bed.

Aziraphale held an inconsolable Crowley as he miracled the bed and the demon clean. Crowley swung from emotion to emotion in a short amount of time until Aziraphale ultimately deposited him in the tub to soothe his nerves and his stomach. He knelt outside the tub, lovingly washing a cranky Crowley with a soft flannel.

Crowley felt better while soaking, but his crankiness returned after he got out and began to dress. He rolled his eyes at the flat belly in his reflection as he pulled on his annoying snake joggers and his annoying ducky socks. He bounced onto the bed, covered his face and cried.

Aziraphale returned upstairs to find him there. He had been down in the shop while Crowley finished soaking, wrapping just a small amount of garland and twinkle lights around things and in his windows for Christmas. He added wreaths to his front door. A miracle would have the lights go on for a few hours, safely, each evening they were gone. A Nina would keep an eye on the shop.

“Oh, my dear. What seems to be the matter?” He sat next to the topless Crowley.

Crowley sniffed. “Nothing.” He wiped his eyes. “Everything.”

Ah, one of those days, Aziraphale thought. Mood swings. Aziraphale had gotten used to them by now.

“I don't even know why I’m mad or sad or whatever the fuck it is that I am.” He leaned on Aziraphale's shoulder.

Aziraphale said nothing. He knew Crowley wasn't looking for solutions, just support. He breathed in deeply, hoping the demon would follow.

He did. Crowley took a few deep breaths and wiped his eyes. “Are we almost ready to go? I still have a few things to pack.”

“There is no rush, my dear. Any interest in breakfast?”

Crowley shook his head. “Not yet, Angel. Still feel a bit off.” He looked to the ceiling and laughed. Swing. “Maybe some exciting toast just so something is in my stomach.”

“Very well. Exciting toast it is. I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

Crowley got up and poked through the wardrobe for a shirt. He settled for a lightly knit purple jumper that had been placed there by his angel. It had a deep V neck.

“Saucy old queen,” an amused Crowley said as he pulled it over his head.

He bustled around gathering for a few things to take to the cottage. He already had plenty of clothes there, so he didn't need to pack much. He grabbed his bottles of nail polish. He had been keeping up with that since he and Anathema had done their nails together.

He dropped one of the bottles and it rolled under a small chest of drawers.

“Fuck!” He muttered. At least it hadn't broken. He crouched down to pick it up and - what was that? He stood up and crouched again. His belly felt odd. He couldn't squat comfortably. He stood and squatted down several times.

“Morning exercises? That’s new.” Aziraphale appeared in the doorway, holding a plate of toast.

“Angel! Angel, when I squat down like this,” he demonstrated, “it feels like there is something in my belly.”

“Quite interesting, dear boy. I don't mean to alarm you, but there is most certainly something in that belly.”

“She’s a wise ass this morning.” He squatted down again and actually grabbed his bottle of nail polish. “This is the first time I’ve felt something like that.”

His mood was instantly lifted. No poking or prodding necessary, he could feel the place where his baby grew.

They packed up the Bentley and Crowley told Aziraphale to hold tight while he popped into the coffee shop.

“Behave,” Aziraphale called after him.

“Mr. Crowley! So good to see you. You look ready for a workout.” Nina pointed to his joggers.

Mr. Brown dipped his newspaper to look at Crowley, hoping he didn't notice.

Crowley had every intention of behaving, truly. Nina started it.

He propped his foot up on a chair, put his hands on his hips, and did a lunge. “Yep!" he said loudly. "Just stretching my hamstrings.” He switched to the other leg. “You know how Mr. Fell likes me to stay limber. Gotta keep myself flexible for our…exercise routine.”

“Anthony J. Crowley,” Nina groaned. “Behave,” she whispered and then winked. “Anyway, what can I get you?”

“How ‘bout a random goody bag for my goodly wife and some sort of ridiculous froofy drink, but make it Christmasy, and then my ginger tea. We’re headed to the cottage for a few days. Gotta keep the calories up because we’ll be burning - “

“Absolutely not, Anthony.” Nina warned with a smile.

Mr. Brown regarded him cautiously. He looked remarkably different. Perhaps he'd gone to rehab. Perhaps it was botox. Probably both. Crowley was obviously a vain fellow who'd want to keep up appearances as the ravages of alcohol overtook him, he thought.

Crowley caught him staring. “Hello, Mr. Brown. I didn't even see you there.”

“How do you do?” Mr. Brown was very cautious with his wording. He didn't want to anger Mr. Fell. Come to think of it, he noticed Mr. Fell standing outside the Bentley across the street, staring right at him through the window. He buried his face in the paper.

Nina waved to get Crowley’s attention and put his order on the counter. “Here you go. Hope this carries you both for the drive,” she lowered her voice to a faint whisper as he grabbed the order, “all three of you, actually.”

Crowley gave her a cheesy smile. “Thanks, luv. Will pop in when we’re back. If I can still walk.” He cackled on his way out the door.

“Absolute perfect behavior,” he said to Aziraphale as he handed him his froofy drink. “It’s a gingerbread latte. Ho ho ho.”

“I question your claim regarding your behavior.”

“I’m insulted. Come on, Angel!” He opened the door for Aziraphale. Crowley was in a good mood and felt reenergized since feeling his little internal bump this morning. He slipped into the driver's seat.

“My babies!”

Aziraphale heard Crowley's voice echo as he greeted his plants. He laughed to himself.

After a simple and early lunch, Crowley sat at the table and painted his nails. Aziraphale was poking through the pantry, assessing their needs for the coming days.

“We should probably head to the market at some point today,” he said.

“Mmmhmm.” Crowley finished up his nails and began blowing on them.

“Those look lovely,” Aziraphale pointed at Crowley’s black nails.

“Let me do yours, Angel. I have another colour.” He held up a bottle of polish. “Your blue.”

“Oh…uh…I…uh…you don't think I’d look ridiculous?” Aziraphale fancied the nail polish, but wasn't sure he could pull it off the way Crowley did.

“Not at all. You know I have a thing for guys in makeup. Come here,” he said softly and patted the tabletop.

“Alright.” He sat down at the table and splayed his hands out in front of Crowley. “I’d like the blue, please.”

Crowley began painting Aziraphale's nails. Inside he was squealing with excitement that he agreed to let him do it. He loved these little moments when Aziraphale let himself be pampered.

Aziraphale gazed at Crowley. Once again, literally the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. For such a frustrating start to the day, Crowley was now looking serene and relaxed. Aziraphale often felt guilty when he would try to pamper him, but he had come to realize it was an important act of love for Crowley.

Crowley blew on his nails. “Onto the second coat.” He looked up at Aziraphale and flashed a smile. Fuck, he was such a gorgeous angel.

Aziraphale felt overcome by emotion. This cranky old demon was incredibly nurturing. Don't tell him that. Visions of Crowley painting little toddler nails, kissing boo-boos, and rocking a cranky infant to sleep floated through his brain. He’d always known Crowley's true nature even in the worst moments of their history, but seeing it come out so freely in the past year, and especially these last months, was something else entirely.

Crowley looked up and noticed the tears gathering in Aziraphale's eyes. “You okay, Angel? I can…stop?”

“No, no. I love this.” He sniffed. “Come here,” he whispered softly and leaned towards Crowley. Their lips pressed gently. “And I love you. A lot.”

“I love you, too, Angel. Good thing, too, considering you’ve got me knocked up.”

They held their hands up together once Crowley was finished.

“We look smashing, my dear.” He regarded their fingers. “What about rings?”

“Rings?”

“Of the wedding or engagement variety.”

“Oh! Rings! Right. We should talk about that.” He felt a pang of guilt for proposing without one. “Would you like an engagement ring? Or should we wait for wedding rings? Should I wear something?” He wasn't sure how this all worked. “I…I mean, I had planned on getting a ring. I also planned on planning better, mind.”

“Well…I am amenable to anything, truly.”

“Not helpful.”

“Well, we certainly need wedding rings for each of us. Do you want an engagement ring for you?”

“I hadn't thought of that,” Crowley answered. “I…I think I would. I like the idea of wearing something that says I’m yours..” He chuckled. “Besides a hickey….or collar”

Aziraphale laughed. “I like that, too.” He was tickled quite pink that Crowley wanted a ring of his own.

“Do we both choose a ring for each other? What would you like to wear? Gold? Well that's a dumb question.”

“I’d rather you choose it. I trust that I will love anything you choose.”

“What if it's a cock ring?”

“Crowley…”

“A gold cock ring?”

“Crowley…”

“Right. Well, I think we should both agree on the actual wedding rings.”

“Agreed.” Aziraphale nodded his head.

“So…when do we do this?”

“Well, I doubt it is hard to find jewelers in the Downs. Lord knows London is brimming with them. Maybe we can poke around this week? See where the wind takes us.”

Crowley and Aziraphale walked arm in arm around town. It was cold despite the abundant sunshine that had blessed the entire day. Now late afternoon, the winds were changing and bringing in even more cold air. The shops were all decked out for Christmas and the holidays with greenery, lights, trees, baubles, and other Christmas finery. Christmas carols emanated from opened doors.

Aziraphale was deep into the holiday vibe. He took a deep breath. "Ah! The most wonderful time of year!” He smiled and held his face up to the sun. As if the sun could compare.

“Bah humbug!” Crowley growled before laughing. Christmas hadn't really been his thing, but he imagined some of that would probably change like everything else has. His cheerful angel was the cutest thing he’d seen.

Aziraphale perused through the bookstore once again, leaving Crowley to use the lavatory. The angel wanted to pick up a few more pregnancy books, especially those regarding birth. He managed to find some on how to be a supportive birth partner - he even added a book on doula techniques - he figured it would be most helpful - to his stack.

"Only 8 books this time, Angel?" Crowley snaked up behind him.

“I aim to be well-informed, my dear,” he said without looking up.

Crowley was going to make a teasing comment about needing more books on pregnancy and birth, but he thought better of it. He realized that this was one of the ways that Aziraphale calmed his own nerves as well as showed his love for Crowley.

Crowley gave him a small hug from behind. “ I love a well-informed angel, " he said. “And I love that you are reading all of these books. Even though I tease you.”

Aziraphale was touched. He turned around and pecked a quick kiss on Crowley's cheek before taking him arm in arm and walking to the registers.

Outside again, Crowley noticed a tiny cosmetic shop, much like the one he had visited with Anathema. There he found a small selection of nail polish. He ran his fingers along swirls of different colours, deciding which to get next.

He found a not entirely blue yet not entirely grey with maybe the tiniest whisper of a blue green. It reminded him of Aziraphale's eyes. He was definitely choosing that one.

“Hey, Angel. Choose one for you. If…if you want.”

Aziraphale looked down at his nails and smiled at the memory of Crowley painting them earlier. He looked at the colors. Yellow was an obvious choice, but he didn't quite like the idea of yellow nails. Gold would be good. Oooh…his eye caught a lovely lilac shade.

“This one.” He held the bottle up to Crowley. He felt daring as it wasn't part of his usual colour scheme.

“That's gorgeous, Aziraphale. I can't wait to see it on you. “ Crowley continued to pick up a few more colours - a very glittery black, a vampy red, deep purple, metallic teal.

“I rather think this would be lovely on you. Perhaps on us, both.” Aziraphale held up a shimmery dark emerald, reminiscent of one of his favorite sweaters he recently picked for Crowley.

“Excellent choice, Angel. I’d love to wear it.”

Basket heavy with nail polish, shave cream, some skincare, and an eyeliner, Crowley made his way to the till.

Strolling down the pavement slowly, Crowley pointed to a plant store that he had just noticed.

“Oh dear,” said Aziraphale, “perhaps we should have the Bentley wait a bit closer.”

“Whatever for? I’m just going to look.”

“One does not simply look in a plant store, Crowley. I know you and I know we’re going to be walking out with a bounty of plants.”

“Pshhh. I have self control, Angel.” Crowley sniffed.

“Oh of course you do, my dear. I just haven't seen that displayed in a plant store.”

Crowley laughed as he opened the door to let Aziraphale pass. “Self control is my middle name. Anthony Self Control J Crowley. Or Anthony J Self Control Crowley? Either way, watch and learn.”

They were happy to find the Bentley parked much closer as they emerged from the plant store, each of them carrying a box with leafy tendrils and fronds peeking out.

“Self control?” Aziraphale said to Crowley, who was balancing his box while he opened the boot.

“Absolutely! Could've bought so much more.” He pushed his box in. “In you go,” he said, “Daddy will set you up all nice and comfy once we get home.”

They continued strolling on their way to the market. To get there, they had to pass the baby store. Neither of them had the self control to pass by without stopping in.

“Just a peak,” Aziraphale said.

“Remember, Angel, we don't need the vast majority of this shit.” He spied the clothing section once again. “Oh, but cute outfits are a must.” He will never admit to squealing over tiny outfits once more, but that's exactly what he did.

Aziraphale fingered through a shelf containing teeny little jumpers. “Oh this gives me an idea. So many marvelous ideas.”

“What is it, Angel?”

“We passed a yarn shop. I’d like to take a quick jaunt once we’re done here.” He continued admiring the tiny jumpers.

“Something tells me your quick jaunt into a yarn shop will be like my quick jaunt into the plant store.” Crowley regarded him suspiciously.

“When you think about it, Aziraphale rhymes with self control, dear boy.”

“On what planet do those words rhyme? I know all the planets. Kinda my thing. Can't think of one where those rhyme.”

“No matter, I shall be quick and tightfisted.”

“No comment on the tightfisted part.” Crowley winked.

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “I can make jumpers like these. Granted, we’ll have a summer baby, but I can make something to grow into.”

“Can get cold on summer nights, especially near the shoreline.”

“Oh, and hats. Booties, of course. Little cardigans. Trousers. Blankets. Anything, really.” He balled his fists in excitement.

Crowley smiled and kissed Aziraphale's forehead. There was nothing more adorable in this moment. But something came close.

“Oi! Look at this!” Another squeal.

Crowley walked up to a section of bodysuits and baby grows that all had various plant prints.

“Little Monstera. Aziraphale! Look at this!” He held up a bodysuit with a print of a Monstera plant and the words “Little Monstera.” He was in heaven. “I’m getting this in multiple sizes.”

“Oh! This one, too.” It was a babygrow with a print of various little pots of plants. “And this!” A body suit, trouser, and hat set in green and white. The bodysuit said “Locally Grown” with a little sprout. The trousers featured a print of vegetable plants. The hat was simply green with a little sprout at the top.

“Oh this one is very you.” Aziraphale held up a bodysuit that featured a print of 3 little potted plants and a whimsical watering can and the words “I wet my plants.”

Crowley nearly stroked out at that one. “Yeah, yeah. More than one size for that one, too. The newborn stage is so fast and they'll grow out of the tiny stuff quickly.”

Aziraphale watched with joy as his love experienced so much unbridled joy of his own in this moment. Crowley caught his eye and flashed a smile at him, causing Aziraphale to forget how to breathe for a moment. This was his love, showing what has been inside him for….well, forever….and now feeling relaxed and safe enough to show it out in the open. Just as he had been in the kitchen when Crowley did his nails, Aziraphale was overcome with the enormity of it all. Crowley was growing their child. He was also growing himself. And so beautifully.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” Crowley’s usual joke when he caught Aziraphale staring rang in the angel’s ears for a moment before he snapped out of his thoughts.

“Oh…I…was…just thinking of how much yarn I’ll need for all of my new projects.” He took a breath. “That and I love you.”

Crowley kissed Aziraphale's hand. “Love you, Angel.”

At the till, Crowley leafed through the set of brochures advertising the Queer parenting group. He picked one up.

“Oh, I have one!” Aziraphale offered.

“I know. I figured I should have one at the bookshop and one at the cottage for whenever I am brave enough to check it out.”

The shopkeeper overheard. “They are so welcoming and it’s a great space for nervous newbies,” they said as Crowley placed all the clothing on the counter. “I recognize you two from a few weeks back. I hope you consider joining. I joined when I had my baby last year and they were a great support.”

“Ngk.”

“Right, I get that. Don't forget, you can dip your toe in by joining the online chat group and then work your way up to Zoom or an in person meeting.” They carefully folded each little outfit and placed it in the bag. “I hope that doesn't come off like pressure. I just feel strongly about parents and couples like us having a safe space to discuss the unique needs we face in pregnancy and parenting.”

“You've certainly sold me. Thank you kindly for the information and the gentle persuasion.”

“Ngk.”

“I think that group sounds rather lovely,” Aziraphale said as they walked towards the yarn store.

Crowley gripped his bag. “It does, yeah. It just…it has people in it.”

“Support groups generally do.”

“Your wisdom is never-ending, Angel. Just…there aren't people like us.”

“It’s for queer parents. We’re queer. In many different ways in addition to our sexuality. And we’re parents.”

“Maybe I’ll try online,” he said. In truth, there was a small part of him that was desperate to connect with other parents like them.

“Remember you don't have to do anything you don't want to do, Crowley.” He stopped in front of the yarn store. “Ah, we’ll be in and out in two shakes of a lamb’s tail, my dear.”

They were not.

“I’m beginning to get jealous. I thought you only moaned like that for me.” Crowley laughed as he teased Aziraphale, who was not shy about each “ooh” and “ahh” he uttered as he browsed yarns and supplies.

Aziraphale glanced at him sideways. “Oh I do think you illicit something much more debauched out of me. Perhaps we’ll find out later.”

“Oh don't do that to me now, Angel. Not in a yarn shop.”

“Wouldn't dream of it my dear.” Aziraphale winked.

It wasn't long before Aziraphale's arms were loaded with skeins of yarns in various shades ranging from cream to rainbow to black. He also picked up several sets of new needles as he didn't have any at the cottage. He babbled away about tiny jumpers and blankies and other yarny things.

Crowley was smitten. He hadn't seen Aziraphale knit in quite some time. His excitement over knitting items for the baby was lighting up a whole new spark in Crowley's heart. The brightness in his angel’s eyes, the way he shook and flapped his hands when excitedly explaining a stitch technique that Crowley knew nothing about, his effusive praise for various types of yarn, his dreamy visions for baby outfits….fuck, Crowley could have married him on the spot just then.

A colour caught his eye. “Angel, this one is really nice. Would like to see you in it, too.” He tossed him a skein of deliciously soft teal yarn.

“Ohhhhhh,” Aziraphale gasped. You've just given me an idea!”

“Oh dear.”

He stared at the skein of yarn. “I have a vision. I’ll need to talk to the shopkeeper about ordering enough from the same lot, but…”

“Same what now?” Crowley would say this was all Greek to him, but he spoke Greek. This was a language he was wholly unfamiliar with.

“The same lot. I need quite a lot of this very color for my vision. You see, when buying large quantities of yarn, you want to make sure they all come from the same dye lot so there isn't a discrepancy in how it matches.”

“Gotcha. And this is for a large? Blanket? Tent?” Would a knitted tent be practical?

“A large. A medium. And a teeny tiny. Jumpers. Oh, Crowley, I could make us all matching jumpers.”

“Oh. Right.” Oh, fuck, this was Crowley's life now. The thing that surprised Crowley in that very moment was that he didn't exactly mind.

He looked on as Aziraphale flagged down the shopkeeper and began to chat to her about all of the particulars of ordering a large quantity of this yarn. That conversation turned into his plans for other projects. They were in full-on chatty mode.

Crowley let his smitten feelings wash over him as he watched his delighted angel chat away with the shopkeeper about all things fiber craft.

“Hey, Angel,” he whispered. “I’m just going to run out for a moment. I’ll meet you back here.”

“Everything alright?” Aziraphale worried Crowley was getting sick or overheated.

“Everything is perfect. Just gonna pop into another shop. You wouldn't like it.”

“Ah, the bebop store. Off you go! I'll wait for you here.”

Crowley had noticed a jewelry shop with a clapperboard sign that boasted “custom designs” in a beautiful chalky font.

Butterflies flapped around in his stomach as he stepped through the door. He looked at the display cases containing various precious metals and gems configured into a variety of jewelry designs. He didn't know what he was doing there. Were his miracles working, he’d make his own ring. As such, he was at the mercy of a jeweler and something about the energy here felt right. When he saw the jeweler, he understood why.

He didn't really know what he expected a jeweler to look like. He had experience with Jewelers over the centuries and they came in all shapes and sizes and personality types. Crowley suspected he would find an upper crusty stuffy sort of person was a little monocle over their eye. Instead, he found a nearly middle-aged fellow with plenty of tattoos visible on his neck and hands and some facial piercings wearing - and this was a selling point - a David Bowie t-shirt underneath a blazer.

“Hallo! How can I be of service to you today?” the gentleman asked.

“I saw the sign about custom designs. How custom are your designs?”

“Well, we can do simple customization involving types of metals or changing out stones or varying the number of prongs in a setting. I am also a metal artist and I make a lot of my own jewelry designs. In short, if we can sketch it out, I can make it.”

Crowley was intrigued. “ Really? So somebody were to come in here and ask for a snake ring, you could do that?”

“Oh certainly. I have designed plenty of snake rings of all different types in my day. Did you have a particular design in mind? Is this for yourself?”

“Uh…I just got engaged and uh…”

“Congratulations!”

“Thank you. Uh…I wanted something simple. Maybe with stones. Are you familiar with Ouroboros?”

“Oh definitely. A common symbol in cultures throughout the world. What meaning does it have to you, if I may ask?”

“I’m more familiar with ancient meanings. Rebirth. Heaven and the Underworld. Creation - Creation from destruction. Protection. Fertility. Most especially - Eternity.” For Crowley, the symbolism was deep, ancient, and very personal - not something he could put in a few words, but he did his best to sum up a few points.

“Mostly, it’s just extremely personal.”

“Designs that hold personal meaning are among my favorite. Have you two been together long?”

“Literally an eternity.” Crowley chuckled.

“And an eternity to come.” The jeweler clapped his hands and smiled. “We can discuss details such as metal, precious stones, sizing…”

Oh fuck. Sizing. Crowley did equations in his head and wondered if there was a correlation between ring size and shoe size or dick size…

“I’m going to wing it on the sizing.” Crowley was going to try a miracle.

“No matter. We offer free resizing!” He said warmly.

No matter - an Aziraphale miracle would eventually take care of that if it was an issue.

Crowley closed his eyes. Just one teeny miracle. He took a breath and - smack! Something hit the floor.

“How odd. Two ring stands just fell to the ground almost on their own.” He bent over to pick them up and placed them on the counter behind him. Two ring stands next to each other. They looked like two fingers. 1 and 1. Eleven.

“Size 11. He’s a size 11.” Crowley exhaled a long breath. That was a bit dodgy, but he got it. He felt a small surge of nausea and dizziness, but they quickly dispersed and he was left with his standard pregnancy nausea.

“Ah, you're familiar with American sizing. That's a V½ here. Excellent.” He grabbed a paper pad and a pen. “Now, let’s talk details.”

Crowley and the jeweler, Alan, talked over his wishes for metal, stones, stylistic elements, etc. Alan sketched out his initial design, which Crowley loved and they planned for email updates. Crowley placed a deposit and thus his search for a ring would be over.

He arrived back in the yarn shop to find Aziraphale sitting in a nook, with a cup of tea, engaged in conversation with the shop keeper, an older woman with a kindly face, long pewter hair worn in a simple braid down her back. She wore a cream-coloured jumper - Crowley surmised she made it herself - adorned with a Christmas wreath brooch and a longish green and red plaid skirt with sensible shoes. A pair of readers attached to a beaded chain joined a tape measure in adorning her neck.

“Ah, there you are dear. We have been having a delightful chat and delicious tea.”

Aziraphale stood up. “Let me introduce you. This is Flora, she runs this fine establishment.” Aziraphale took Crowley's hand. “Flora, this is my fiancé - ”

Flora stood, held out her hand, and gave a gentle smile, “So nice to meet you dear.”

Crowley took her hand and answered shyly, “Thank you. Uh, Anthony. Nice to meet you.”

“You’ve got such a darling fiancé here, Anthony. I could talk to him for ages - he feels like an old friend. Like a warm, cozy and comforting sweater.”

Fiancé “That he is. I’m very lucky.” He smiled at Aziraphale. He loved when other people so obviously stated what Aziraphale's aura felt like.

“Flora was telling me that she has weekly groups here for tea and stitchcraft.” He giggled and balled his fists. “A ‘stitch and bitch’ they call it. Isn't that marvelous?” He clasped his hands together.

“Stitch and bitch. I like that.”

“I was hoping to persuade Mr. Fell here to join us one evening. He’d fit right in.” Flora said.

Crowley’s little stomach butterflies took a twirl at the sight of Aziraphale beaming at the notion of fitting in.

“Would be perfect for you, Angel,” he said softly.

“I’d be delighted to join. For now, I am sad to end our chat, but we must get going.” He gathered his purchases.

Flora walked him over to the till and got to work with the mountain of yarn Aziraphale had picked up.

The “few” items took nearly 10 minutes to ring up.

“Planning to knit a blanket to cover the entire cottage?" Crowley joked.

“Mr. Fell tells me he has plans to make baby clothes. How nice to do that for someone. A lucky niece or nephew? Grandchild?”

Crowley held in a laugh at the idea of a grandchild.

“Ah…family, yes.”

“They are very lucky. Oh, you must come show me your finished works,” she said.

“I assure you, I will.”

After setting up his bulk order and exchanging a pleasant goodbye, he and Crowley were out and on their way to the market after Aziraphale loaded his bags into the Bentley.

“You bought more yarn than I did plants, Angel. Just…just for the record.” Crowley winked at him before bringing him in for a side hug. He kept his arm around Aziraphale's back as they walked through the market.

Crowley suddenly realized he couldn't survive without berries of any kind. They filled their buggy with strawberries, blueberries, raspberries, and blackberries.

“You know, Crowley, at 10 weeks, the baby is the size of a strawberry.”

Crowley picked up the container of strawberries. “That's huge.” He couldn't comprehend that he was carrying something of that size, let alone the fact that they'd grow much, much bigger.

“Indeed.” Aziraphale stood at the butcher’s counter in wait to pick out a roast.

Crowley dashed to the lavatory. One the way back, he grabbed himself a few packs of crisps, a bag of frozen peas, beef jerky, chocolates, cucumbers, and - had he finally arrived at the quintessential pregnancy moment? - a jar of pickles.

He balanced his goods carefully as he made his way back to Aziraphale, who was still standing at the butcher’s counter. With a man. A bearded man with a sleeveless jumper and a bowtie enthusiastically chatted to a friendly-faced Aziraphale. The angel was utterly unaware of his own charms and of the twinkle in the gentleman's eye.

Crowley sauntered as best he could while juggling his items, which was still better than anyone else could hope to saunter.

“Helllooooooo.” He said slyly as he dropped his food into the buggy - sexily, of course - and immediately put his arm around Aziraphale and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Miss me, lover?”

Aziraphale sighed and tried to fight a smile. Lover. Good Lord. The gentleman had merely admired his bowtie and chatted him up about a local menswear store. Very innocent. He wasn't going to stop slightly jealous, slightly possessive Crowley as he enjoyed that very much. He felt an awakening, which he’d have to quell in this public space, between his thighs as he watched Crowley stand taller and square his shoulders, yet somehow still look as slinky and sexy as ever. Slut. Even with child.

The butcher handed him the roast. Here it comes - Aziraphale squeezed his eyes closed for a moment.

“You do like thick meat,” Crowley growled, winking at the gentleman.

One more. Aziraphale braced.

“I could've given you that at home.” He gave a playful squeeze to Aziraphale’s hips. He wanted to squeeze his bum, but Crowley was a polite demon on his best public behavior.

“Lovely talking to you,” Aziraphale said to the gentleman and he hastily pushed the buggy away.

“He was merely telling me about a local menswear shop. He liked my bowtie,” Aziraphale said as he placed their items on the belt to be rung up.

“I love you, Angel. You are so clueless sometimes and it’s adorable. That gentleman was eyeing you up like you were the juiciest hunk of meat at that counter. Which you were, mind. You didn't see it?”

“Not at all.” He hadn't, but he knew Crowley was speaking the truth. And he was delighted.

Crowley noticed the quick flash of a smile on Aziraphale's face.

“Wow!” Aziraphale exclaimed. “I didn't think it would be such a heavy shopping day like this,” he said while they hauled bags and plant boxes into the cottage. They had just arrived home after having a quick dinner out. It took a few trips to and from the Bentley to bring everything in sans miracles.

“Most of it’s your yarn. Here, help me get these plants to their room.” Crowley handed him one of the boxes of plants. “I’ll pot them tomorrow. Too exhausted tonight.”

After tucking the plants in with loving words from very soft Crowley, they headed back to the bedroom. Aziraphale took stock of all the yarn and set himself up a small station with a few skeins and needles near his bedside. Knitting while Crowley slept would be an excellent use of time, he thought. He was going to start with a blanket for their bed just to work on his rusty technique.

Crowley set out all of the outfits he bought and cooed, fucking cooed, over them as he laid them out on the bed.

“Can you imagine this little strawberry eventually fitting into these? He held up a babygrow.” His eyes began to water.

“I am so looking forward to it,” Aziraphale said softly as he hugged him from behind.

“Should probably learn to do laundry.”

“That you shall, my dear. I imagine babies bring about a bevy of laundry. Especially if we do the cloth diapers.”

Miracles would be useful now and then, but Aziraphale loved to be hands on and Crowley grumbled along. A part of him enjoyed partaking in mundane daily tasks with Aziraphale.

“Care for some hot chocolate?” Aziraphale asked as they put everything away.

“Sounds good. How ‘bout a fire outside? Sky’s gorgeous tonight.”

“I should love that, my dear.” Aziraphale put the kettle on. “Marshmallows on yours?”

“Extra for me.” Crowley hugged him. “This is my favorite marshmallow though.” He nibbled Aziraphale's neck.

“Behave, demon,” said Aziraphale as he scooped his homemade cocoa blend into mugs.

They brought out several blankets and cuddled together in their pyjamas and slippers on their cozy terrace furniture with their hot chocolates.

Aziraphale tucked his knees up and leaned against Crowley. Crowley dipped his head and kissed the top of Aziraphale's. They were warm and cozy under their soft blankets in front of the firepit. The night air was cold, carrying the shape of their breaths as they spoke. The sky was a deep black with a showcase of millions of stars and the Milky Way.

“I’ll never stop loving this view,” Crowley whispered.

Aziraphale sipped his hot chocolate and traced his fingers on the handle of the mug. For Aziraphale and Crowley, any words about the stars carried a weight that was immeasurable in this world.

He snuggled in more, letting his own body be moved by the rise and fall of Crowley’s breathing. Even with an act as simple as breathing, Crowley was doing work for their baby.

They placed their empty mugs on the tiny table and intertwined their hands under the blanket, warming one another.

“This was a splendid day, wasn't it?” Aziraphale rubbed both of Crowley's hands between his own.

“Started rough, but today was very nice. I enjoyed it.” He warmed his nose in a puff of downy platinum hair and dropped several kisses.

Crowley pointed out various stars, constellations, and nebulae - naming them all in ancient languages and telling the stories that humans created about them.

Aziraphale sank into an embrace from Crowley and listened intently and quietly. He heard names and stories he had never heard before. Even in all of their time together, they hadn't run out of new stars or systems to talk about. He was never without awe at the sheer brilliance of Crowley, who - and the demon barely accepted credit for this - was also an incredible teacher. Crowley explained things in an inviting manner, without a hint of pretentiousness, and with a wonder that traced every word he spoke. How long had it been? Yet, he was still in awe of his own work.

The cold and the tiredness of a certain pregnant demon eventually won out as the night wore on. They gathered up their blankets and mugs and went inside, slipping into their warm bed, where their sleepy lovemaking eventually carried them both off into a deep slumber.

Chapter Text

At the mirror after their morning shower, towels draped around their waists, they jockeyed for space as they got ready to shave. Crowley gently nudged Aziraphale to sit on the toilet and began to smooth shaving cream onto the angel's face.

"We should think about getting a proper shave chair so you don't have to sit your delicious bum on the loo," he said as he delicately dragged the razor over Aziraphale's skin.

"I don't mind. Still feels quite nice when you shave me. My bum is quite sturdy," he laughed and wiggled his bottom on the seat. These small intimate moments meant the world to Aziraphale. He looked up at the gentle face of his lover and traced his gaze down his long neck to the new curves of his chest and to the delicate bump between his hips.

The delicate bump between his hips.

The delicate bump.

Bump.

There, peaking out of the towel wrapped low on his hips, was a small swell. He truly did "pop" as that wasn't there yesterday. And he hadn't even noticed it on himself, yet. He was sick and sleepy in the shower, so Aziraphale guessed he simply missed it.

Aziraphale stared at the little bump for a moment. The swell in his belly was a small, but unmistaken sign that their baby was somewhere in there, growing within the demon who had long been disconnected from his battered and broken form. Here, Papa and baby had their own brief secret moment as Crowley was busy shaving Aziraphale.

"Crowley…"

"Hmm? Keep your head this way for me." He tilted Aziraphale's head.

"Might want to drop your towel." He looked up to meet Crowley’s eyes, which were focused on Aziraphale's face.

"Sorry, love, I still feel pretty damn nauseous and don't think I can be on the receiving end of anything. Maybe later, yeah?" He wiped away the remnants of shaving cream from one side of Aziraphale's face.

Aziraphale could let Crowley finish shaving and keep his secret moment a bit longer, but he was so excited that he was about to pop just as Crowley's belly had.

"Crowley, you may want to take look at what's under your towel."

"You're relentless, Angel," Crowley laughed, concentrating on his work at hand.

"Crowley…" He placed his hand on the bump, causing the towel to slip to the floor. "Look here, darling," he said softly, looking up at Crowley's face. He wanted to see his reaction when he realized it.

Crowley sighed at his wiggly angel. "Aziraphale, I don't want to nick this gorgeous face so I need you to - " he gasped and stared for a moment, his honey-colored eyes taking it all in. He put the razor on the edge of the sink.

"Is…is…?" his words trailed as he lightly brushed his trembling fingertips along his skin.

He quickly walked out of the bathroom into the bedroom and stood in front of the mirror. There it was, in all it's tiny glory.

"I have a bump?" His voice cracked through the awed silence in the room. He looked at Aziraphale, his lip quivering. "I have a bump!"

He gazed in wonder at his reflection. The slight swell protruding upward towards his belly button from his thatch of curly dark red hair was small in physicality, but huge in it's significance. He wasn't flat anymore. Sure, his face looked different to other people. He had tiny titty tits. Lots of symptoms. But this was something that meant so much to him - this wasn't simply hormonal reactions, it was his visible proof that someone was growing right there, rearranging his body to make room for themselves. It was the undeniable proof that he needed - to see how his body would stretch and grow because he was truly pregnant. The Demon Crowley wasn't too broken or too damned to do this after all.

"I'm really pregnant, Aziraphale," he said as he gently stroked his bump, touching it as if it were the finest and most delicate porcelain. Reverently. Worshipful.

"That you are, my dear." Aziraphale stood next to him, delighting in the light in Crowley's eyes. Aziraphale sensed that this was another moment in which a small broken part of Crowley was being mended. He was honoured to bear witness to it. Crowley was radiating. Aziraphale could feel both the excitement and the release of tension vibrating off of him. Aziraphale was elated - he'd waited so long to see his love have this moment.

Eyes glistening, Crowley stared in awe, turning in different directions, taking in each angle, hands running over his belly.

He began giggling. "Look at us."

Aziraphale laughed as they both looked at the reflection in the mirror. There was naked Crowley, in all his pregnant glory with a smear of shaving cream on his shoulder. There was Aziraphale, towel barely hanging on his hips, hair a poofy ball of fluff, half his face shaved, half still covered in shaving cream, which had started dropping off his face and onto his chest.

"We make quite the trio," Aziraphale laughed. "I'm very happy for you, Crowley. I know this bump means so much to you."

Crowley stared for quite a while longer as all of Aziraphale's shaving cream eventually dripped to the floor. When they headed back into the bathroom, Crowley reapplied shaving cream and finished his work on Aziraphale's gorgeous face.

Aziraphale put his hands on Crowley's hips and looked up at him. "I will repeat this as often as I can. You are a miracle, Crowley." He looked at the belly staring him in the eye and leaned forward to give it a gentle kiss.

Crowley put his hand on the back of Aziraphale's head, gently scratching fingers through the hair at his neck. Looking down to see Aziraphale kiss his bump brought a new wave of tears to his eyes. He knew this was to become a frequently repeated favorite sight in the months to come.

They switched positions so Aziraphale could shave him. Crowley asked him to wait before applying shaving cream. He leaned his head onto Aziraphale's chest and wrapped his arms around him. His safe place amongst these soft curves of his lover. Aziraphale, literally the purest being in the universe, thought that he, the demon, was a miracle despite all he knew about him. He kissed the spot where his heartbeat pressed against his chest.

They had nothing planned for the day. Crowley dressed in loose, comfy clothes - after admiring the bump again - and joined Aziraphale for breakfast where he managed to eat all of the berries they had bought the day before.

“Think we should go to Tesco,” said Crowley as he popped the last raspberry into his mouth.

Aziraphale looked up from his crossword puzzle. "It seems we must. More berries?"

"Many more. Ohh, and bananas. I wonder if they have chocolate-covered pretzels? We could probably use some marmalade, too. And strawberry ice lollies. Just a few things. Also, cheddar."

"Oh dear." Aziraphale was tickled with this list of developing pregnancy cravings. He just wondered a.) How long they would last and b.) If any of these items would end up in a toilet and declared a "never again" food.

At Tesco, Aziraphale had to convince Crowley that 3 lbs of strawberries would be enough, especially since they also acquired every other type of berry they sold, but the tremble of a lip on the demon's face convinced him to bump that up to 4 pounds of strawberries.

Crowley's nausea crept back in so he ducked into an aisle and grabbed soda crackers, immediately opening the box and eating one.

"Crowley, we haven't paid yet." Aziraphale warned, nervously looking around to see if anyone noticed.

"It's either this or I puke in the middle of the aisle. Oooooooooh, we need more Nutella."

"How does one go from talking about being sick to talking about Nutella in a matter of a seconds?" Aziraphale asked, amused.

"Dunno, Angel. Pregnant superpower, would be my guess," said Crowley, rocking the buggy back and forth with one hand, fingers skimming his bump with the other.

Aziraphale had a brief vision of Crowley rocking a pram back and forth to soothe a fussy infant. He smiled. He snapped out of it at Crowley's voice.

"Angel…Angel…the crackers didn’t help. We should queue and check out quickly." He did not want to get sick in the middle of Tesco.

Fortunately, the feeling passed without incident and within forty minutes they were home and settled in for lunch, which Crowley devoured.

After lunch, Aziraphale began to gather supplies to start his first knitting project - a simple blanket for their bed - when he had an idea. He set his basket of needles and yarn in the sitting room and went to find Crowley.

He found him in the kitchen, standing at the refrigerator, door open, drinking orange juice straight out of the container while holding an empty glass in his hand.

"Oh, good Lord." Aziraphale stood with his hands on his hips. This was his sexy and suave lover.

Crowley wiped his mouth with the hand holding the glass. "Was really thirsty and it takes too long to pour it." He hiccupped.

"Is that so?" Aziraphale pressed his lips together. "I suppose we'll be needing new orange juice already."

"Still half a container left." He shut the fridge door. "Woo-eee, I am wiped out."

"It's been an eventful day so far. Some rest would probably do you good." He slid his hand along the edge of a counter. "While you rest, I thought maybe I could take the car for a quick little trip? I'd be back in a jiffy!"

"To where?" Crowley eyed him suspiciously.

"Oh...uh…just needed a few more things at the yarn shop."

"Riiiight. Well, whatever it is…she stays black. Understand?" Crowley raised an eyebrow at him.

"Of course, darling. Wouldn't dream of changing her." He put his hands on Crowley's shoulders. "Will you be alright while I'm gone?"

"I'll be fine, Angel. Just gonna rest. Maybe eat." He rested his cheek on one of Aziraphale's hands.

"What if you get sick while I'm gone?"

"I can handle it. I'm a pro at it by now. Have fun. Do your yarny things. I'll see you when you get back."

Goodbye kisses were exchanged, Aziraphale kissed his hand and brought it down to gently pat the bump. Crowley walked him to the car with one more stern warning to keep the Bentley "as is." The Bentley purred. "Don't you purr at him. It just encourages him!"

Crowley was alone in the cottage for the first time in a long time. "He's up to something," he muttered to himself as he paced the hallway.

He walked into the bedroom and pulled down the waistband of his trousers. He massaged his hand over his little bump.

"Hello there. I've waited for you." He grabbed his phone and took several mirror selfies of his new figure.

He took his shirt off and admired his newer shape, taking in the changes and finding wonder in them. He removed the rest of his clothing to take everything in at once. His mind wandered to a night that seemed like a lifetime ago, when he had regarded his form in the bookshop mirror, letting his scales move over him. He had been a whirlpool of confused emotions that night - he was on the brink of a transformation then, shedding his skin, and he was scared. Here, now, Crowley is aware that the transformation not only involved letting parts of him soften, but also starting a family with Aziraphale. That night in October involved his subconscious reminding him of his desire to have a child - he just hid from that truth for so long because it was supposed to be impossible.

Now, here he stood, changed. The impossible had become possible. It was only the beginning. Crowley ran his hands up and down the length of his long torso. He let himself think of the abuse his body had endured. The way it was ridiculed and violated. Broken many times over. Damned. Any crumbs of self worth he managed to scavenge were tied to moments with Aziraphale for thousands of years. Now…as Aziraphale had said, he was the miracle.

This tiny being chose him to safely grow. He watched his new curves jiggle as a silent cry caused his chest to shudder. As much as he knew his body was always a temptation to Aziraphale and that he could use it to bring him pleasure, he stood in front of this mirror and felt truly beautiful on his own, not just through the eyes of another. He was wondrous. Miraculous. His emotional edges were softening.

So were the physical. There was the slightest hint of softness over his sharp hips slipping down to the very upper parts of his thigh. This was also a new development. "Looks like I'll be a curvy gal after all." Crowley was loving the changes to his body.

He loved his skin and its glow, his hair and its luster. He loved the slight darkening of the line of hair that went from his navel to his mons. He loved his slinky hips and their newly cushioned edges. He loved the knowing sparkle in his eyes and the change in his face. He loved his tiny titty tits and the thought of how they'd nourish his baby. He loved his newest change - the sign of life growing inside him - his tiny little long-awaited bump.

He loved his baby more than he could comprehend.

A new realization gripped him and shook at his resolve. He tried to push it back because he wasn't ready to face it. Not alone. Not without Aziraphale by his side. The realization didn't care, it pushed it's way past his defenses.

The Demon Crowley, fallen and officially damned, loved himself.

Chapter Text

Some time and many sobs had passed before Crowley dressed himself and stepped away from the mirror. It took a little work, but he managed to nearly contain some of the bigger emotions and set them aside for now. They were too much for him to truly face and comprehend, especially on his own.

In this moment, he was hungry. Very, very hungry.

Shuffling jars and boxes through shelves, he found the jerky he bought the other day at the market. The wrapper was annoyingly tough to open, but he persisted and won, immediately snapping a piece off with his sharp teeth in victory.

"Mmmmm." He rolled his eyes in mock ecstasy. "So good."

It was missing something, though. He poked through the pantry again. Opened the fridge. Checked cabinets. Back to the pantry. "Ah-ha!" He palmed the jar of Nutella. No one was there to judge him but himself. And he had just established that he loved himself, so there.

He unscrewed the lid. "Go Crowley. Go Crowley," he whispered to himself and laughed. He has no idea who he was at this point, delirious with all those emotions, exhaustion, and hunger. He dipped the jerky into the Nutella and…

"Christ, that hits the spot."

He wandered through the cottage with his jar of Nutella and his jerky. He was bored. He paced. He checked on his plants - all so well behaved. He still needed to pot the new ones, but he was too restless to concentrate on that. He picked up his phone and his laptop from his overnight bag and brought them to the dinner table in the kitchen. Best to stay near the fridge. He went back to the bedroom, admired his reflection, and poked through the bag from the baby store, pulling out the Queer parenting brochure.

At the kitchen table, he opened his laptop and typed in the url for the private chat group listed on the brochure. With his hand gently resting on his bump, he read over the page. It was a local group here in the South Downs, created a few years back by queer parents who wanted to share solidarity and support with others regarding the specific needs they face in fertility, pregnancy, and parenting. As the clerk at the store said, they had a variety of support options - chat (Discord), Zoom, and in-person.

He hovered over the "New Here? Sign Up!" link for a moment. With a deep breath, he clicked it. There were many screening questions to make sure he wasn't a creeper. He filled in some demographic information. Usually, he'd say he was around 50, but he was pregnant. Not impossible, but he didn't want to push it.

"I'll just use the answer to everything," he said to himself. He typed in “42.”

He submitted his info and tapped his fingers. He'd have to wait for someone to get his info and send the link and who knows how long that will take. Time for more Nutella jerky.

He was surprised to see an email notification so quickly.

“Hi, Anthony! Welcome to our Queer Parenting support group. Click on the link below for an invite to our Discord server. Once there, you will find links to our Zoom meetings and general information for our weekly in person meeting in the #general chat channel. If you have any questions, please feel free to respond to this email. Hugs! Bex.”

Crowley was rather Internet savvy. Some of his best work had been on the internet. Pop up ads. Vines. That dancing baby. Napster. Windows Me. The sound of dial up internet. Oh, he’d done a lot of work back in his day.

He clicked on the Discord invite. Fuck, he’d have to create a new account. “EyesOnAngelThighs” probably wouldn't be the best user name. He drummed his fingers on the keyboard.

Slut4Angel? No
DemonCnt69? No
DomAngelLuvr? No
ThiccAngel4Me? No
ILuv2FckAngels? No
FemmeDemonSub? No
Certainly not DemonSemen.
MrBrownsWorldOfCarpets? No

Sigh. None of his usual reddit sock puppet names would work here, he thought. My, he had a list of horny names, didn't he? May need to do a wipe of his internet history before their wee babe can log on.

StarBoi69. That's it. No. Let’s not use 69, he thought. Not for a parenting group. 69 doesn't make you a parent. He laughed at himself.

“IneffableQueen” popped into his head. He didn't know why, but he liked it. Finally!

Next he hyperfixated on his profile picture. He chose the selfie of him and Aziraphale on the beach from weeks ago.

He browsed through the various channels and read messages to get a feel for the group. All in all, it seemed very solid and fairly active. New messages were popping up as he scrolled. He noticed some questionable pregnancy advice and wanted to jump right in and correct it, but he told himself to slow down and get used to chatting before he infodumped. It was a conscious decision that he had to remind himself about now and then.

There was a channel for #NewbieIntroductions. He clicked on that. There had been other newbies in the past week. He read some of the messages.

“Hi. My name is Mars, yes like the planet. I’m 36, nonbinary, ace, and aro. They/Them. I am a graphic designer. I’m 31 weeks with my first baby, conceived via donor sperm. Just looking for a supportive group of people and hoping for friendship.”

“Hello! I’m Kat. 41. My wife, Ronnie, 38, has been a member for a few months now and I just joined because it seems like a great group. My pronouns are she/her and you know Ronnie's are she/they. We are regular old lesbians. lol! Our baby was born 3 days ago and we’re still deciding on a name. Ronnie’s doing great. I look forward to meeting everyone in person in a few weeks. See you on Zoom until then!”

He read through a few more introductions dating back a few months and nervously thought about how he’d introduce himself. He sat and stared at the screen, fingertips hovering over keys, for a long time. He needed a snack break for bravery. He grabbed strawberries out of the fridge and ate through the entire carton before typing out the word, “hi.” Breathe, Crowley. This is just a chat group.

“Hi? Anthony here. My partner….”

Fuck….ummm…He erased it. What name would Aziraphale use?

“I’m Anthony from Mayfair/Soho. I just bought a cottage in the South Downs with my fiancé, A.Z..(he/him). I’m 10 weeks pregnant with our first baby...”

Wow, first baby makes it sound like there could be more. His brain tingled.

Pronouns. Pronouns. It’s been he/him for a long run now. He didn't really care, to be honest.

“...Pronouns: he/him, but I don't mind any others. I’m 42, queer, genderfluid, and gay for my husband-to-be. I’m a retired birthworker.”

He blinked at the screen. Was that too much? Is he giving too much info, too fast? Should he add the birthworker part? Was the “gay for my husband-to-be,” disrespectful? He second, third, and fourth-guessed himself before saying…

“Fuck it!” He hit enter and his message appeared on the screen. “Aziraphale can miracle everything away and they can forget I existed,” he said aloud. That was his backup plan in case no one liked him.

That was scary. How was he to actually meet people in person if simply posting an introduction was so hard? He couldn't fathom.

He scooped the nearly finished Nutella out of the jar - who ate all the Nutella? - with the remainder of his jerky before getting up for more OJ. He sat down with the carton and prepared to close his laptop, but he noticed a little emoji popped up on his message. A purple heart. 💜 And another. A rainbow. 🌈

Below his message it said, “BexTheTRex is typing.” He waited.

“Hi Anthony. We’re so glad you could join us!!! How cool is it that you are a birthworker! Are you a doula? Feel free to jump in on other channels. We’re a chatty group!”

He felt….acceptance? It was just one message, but it felt good. He typed a reply.

“I was a midwife forever ago. Thanks for the welcome. 🙂”

He sat back with his snacks and container of OJ and perused the other channels. He noticed one called #BumpPics. He scrolled through it, noting the different types of bodies and bump sizes. He momentarily wished he could feel brave enough to post one.

He looked at #Meetings and learned there would be a zoom meeting in a few days. He wanted to go, but would he be accepted and would he be able to connect with people as little video boxes on the screen? He sighed and shut his laptop. That was enough for now. He’d check in later.

He dove into another carton of strawberries and used them to wipe up the remaining Nutella from the jar. He sighed, “Heaven. Gah! Who the fuck am I?”

He brought his strawberries into the parlour and switched on the TV, scrolling until he found Schitt’s Creek. Just one episode and then he’d get up and started potting his new plants. He didn't even make it through the first few notes of it’s iconic opening music and he was out like a light.

Aziraphale carefully drove into town, humming along to his classical music that stays classical in the car. “Nothing like a little Pachelbel in the afternoon.” He patted the steering wheel.

Aziraphale had a flash of an idea back at the cottage while going through his yarn. Yesterday, he noticed a jeweler with a sign that advertised custom designs. Crowley indicated that he would like a ring for himself. Aziraphale could have easily miracled one, but he quite enjoyed the idea of going to a craftsperson to have it custom made with human hands.

On the drive over, he thought over his design. He wanted the ring to be shaped like two wings wrapped around the finger. Simple. Protective.

He was greeted by the jeweler upon entering the shop.

“Good afternoon, sir. I wonder if you might tell me about your custom designs.”

The jeweler explained the same things he had explained to Crowley yesterday. “What do you have in mind?”

“Well, you see, I’ve just become engaged and I'd like to get a ring for my fiancé. Something with wings.”

The jeweler immediately recognized this gentleman - he saw him coming out of his aunt's yarn shop…with the red-haired goth gentleman who ordered the snake engagement ring. What a delight! These two came to him to order custom rings and they didn't seem to be aware that the other had done the same.

“Not like my ring, you see,” he held up his right hand to show his angelic ring. “I’d like something more like two angel wings wrapped around the finger as if embracing one in a hug.”

“Let me sketch something for you. So, uh…” he grabbed his sketch book, “what does that symbolize for you?” He was very curious about these two - one ordering a snake, the other asking for angel wings.

“Ah, well, wings are a very personal symbol for the both of us. The meaning there is rather hard to explain.” He twisted his fingers, suddenly very nervous about the fact that he was buying a ring for Crowley. “The wings wrapping around…uh…well, it’s a reminder of who we are and what we have been through. Most especially, it’s a symbol…a promise of my protection and my love. All very simplistic, I’m afraid, but highly personal.”

The jeweler smiled, “Personal meanings are my favorite.” He held up his sketch. “How does this look?”

“Oh!” It was exactly what he envisioned. “What talent you have, my dear fellow!”

They discussed metals and sizing. Aziraphale easily knew that Crowley was an S½ thanks to his rapidly working miracles.

Ring successfully ordered, Aziraphale crossed the street to pop in the yarn shop. He needed to come home with something so Crowley wouldn't get suspicious.

“Mr. Fell!” Flora called out. She was with another woman of about the same age, nearly identical clothing style. “Have you come to join our stitch ‘n’ bitch?” She held up a Christmas stocking. “I’m finishing some last minute Christmas work.”

That gave Aziraphale an idea. He’d make them Christmas stockings for the cottage. They didn't truly celebrate Christmas, but Aziraphale found comfort and delight in the trappings. He loved to decorate for it. Plus, they were hosting friends for dinner just before the holiday and stockings by the fire would look so cozy.

“My dear, Flora, I shall join your group in the near future, but I'm afraid I am just here to add to my stash before heading home.”

He chose a cabernet-colored yarn for Crowley that reminded him of the reds in his scales. For himself, a delicate cream color. He picked a happy green that reminded him of new plant growth in the Spring - their little sprout.

It was close to dinner time and he was excited to work on several new knitting projects. He stopped at a nearby Chinese restaurant for takeaway and headed home.

“Honey, I’m home!” Aziraphale called, laughing at himself. The cottage was quiet save for the very light sound of a snoring demon. He followed the sound to the parlour.

What a sight, Aziraphale thought. Crowley was sprawled out on the sofa, one leg draped over the back. The remote was in one hand, a strawberry with a bite out of it in the other, an empty Nutella jar and near empty strawberry carton on the coffee table. The TV was on, but silent as the screen had been halted with the judgey “Are you still watching?” message. Just the smallest amount of drool gathered at a corner of Crowley's mouth. Best of all, his shirt had ridden up to expose some skin, the tiny little swell of his bump obvious under the waist of his trousers.

Crowley’s phone was on the table. Aziraphale picked it up and switched on the camera. Nary an accidental selfie in sight - he was practically a whiz at this now. He snapped a few pics before setting the phone back down and covering Crowley with a blanket. He gently removed the strawberry and remote from his hands. Crowley didn't even budge. He was out out.

“She is beauty, she is grace,” he muttered to himself as he lightly stroked Crowley's head. “You’re doing such hard work, my darling.” He leaned over and kissed his forehead. “Thank you.”

He brought the takeaway to the kitchen, where it would remain fresh and warm, ready when Crowley awoke.

“Oh dear,” Aziraphale said as he observed the table. Crowley’s laptop, an empty OJ container, and several jerky wrappers were on the table. Crowley was a meticulous and tidy fellow and not the type to leave trash out ever. He must have been very tired, Aziraphale thought. Or, he suddenly got sick. Surely he didn't consume jerky, Nutella, strawberries, and OJ all at once. Oh, he felt terrible if Crowley had to be sick alone.

Aziraphale switched out his jacket for his cardigan and settled into an armchair in the parlour and began to unravel a skein of yarn and hand wound it into a ball. He did this with several skeins and hanks until there was stirring on the sofa.

“Hi’ngl. Whe’ju’ge’hm?” Crowley squinted his eyes against the light.

“‘Hi, Angel. When did you get home?’ Have I got it? Didn't even need your Googler to translate.”

“Not the Googler,” Crowley groaned.

“I’ve been home for ninety minutes. Did you stay out of trouble?”

“Mostly.” He stood up and stretched. “I’m sure I smell fantastic from my snacks, but give us a kiss.” He walked over to Aziraphale and leaned over for a sweet kiss. “Need help?”

“Yes, but later, my dear. For now, I think we should have some supper.”

Crowley told Aziraphale all about joining the online queer parents group. Aziraphale was happy to hear that Crowley reached out and was already making connections. However…

“Oh, please tell me you didn't sign up for something as 'I fuck Angels 79' again.”

Crowley chuckled, “Sixty-nine, Angel. Sixty-nine. We’ve done it enough, you should remember. And, no, I signed up as something respectable - IneffableQueen.”

“Ohhh, well that's darling, isn't it? Has a ring to it.”

Crowley helped clear up their plates and wash the dishes. He could feel his bump as he leaned against the sink. He smiled. He wanted to tell Aziraphale about the realizations he had today, but wasn't ready for the emotional overwhelm right now. It would have to remain boxed up.

After a long soak in the bath, the two dressed in their pyjamas and sat together on the sofa in the sitting room. Aziraphale brought in his basket of knitting and had Crowley help him ball more yarn. They spoke of plans for their upcoming Christmas dinner at the cottage, where they'd gather with friends, including those they hadn't seen since Madame Tracy and Sgt. Shadwell married at the beginning of Summer.

“Just a simple affair, no fuss,” said Aziraphale matter-of-factly as he wrapped the last bit of yarn around a ball. “Ah! Thank you for your help with these, my dear. This goes much quicker when I have extra hands assisting me. Now my yarn is ready to turn into all sorts of delights!” Aziraphale wiggled his shoulders at the sight of all of his freshly balled and hanked yarns.

“Always, Angel.”

Crowley thought of Christmas dinner and Aziraphale's “no fuss” claim. “No fuss for Christmas dinner, eh? Not a single drop of fussing from this here angel?” Crowley chuckled at him. “That’ll be a Christmas miracle,” he teased.

Aziraphale clicked his tongue and threw a ball of yarn at him.

“Oi! Pregnant!” Crowley threw it back and they laughed.

Aziraphale twisted his ring before clasping his hands together tightly. “I rather thought you and I could go to one of the delightful Christmas tree farms around here. Maybe get a tree. Or two. Perhaps some garland and other trimmings.” He raised his eyebrows. “Mistletoe.”

“I like Mistletoe.” Crowley raised one eyebrow in response.

Aziraphale moved his yarn out of the way and crawled over Crowley. “I do wonder where we can hang some," he said in the low grumbling voice that always caused a stir within Crowley. His breath brushed against Crowley's lips.

“I have a few ideasss,” Crowley hissed and leaned closer to accept a kiss from Aziraphale, their tongues meeting like two lover's under mistletoe.

"Take me to bed, Aziraphale."

"With pleasure." Aziraphale stood and held out his hand for Crowley, pulling him up from the couch and bringing him in for another slow, languid kiss. He waved his hand at the fireplace, extinguishing flames that would then ignite in their bedroom fireplace. He led Crowley by the hand to their room.

Standing by the bed, Crowley brushed a hand over Aziraphale's cheek, eliciting a soft smile. He kissed the dimples that appeared. His hands moved to the buttons on Aziraphale's light blue pyjamas. One by one, he opened them, revealing Aziraphale's white vest, his curly soft chest hairs poking out. He scattered kisses down his neck and to his collarbone, bringing forth a small sigh from Aziraphale as he caressed the angel's body through the vest.

His hand traveled down the angel's belly until it reached the drawstring at his waist. With a gentle tug, he freed it from its knot. He kept his eyes on the tempest growing in Aziraphale's blues as he slowly knelt before him, ready to worship. Crowley ran his hands up and down the cotton of the trousers, watching a bulge grow just between the sumptuous thighs of his lover. He curled fingers into the waistband and slowly pulled the trousers down, helping Aziraphale step out of the legs one at a time. He looked back up to catch his eyes.

Below the tartan boxer shorts, Aziraphale was stiffening, nearly at full attention. Crowley eyed the bulge with hunger. He had not been able to fully engage in giving oral sex since morning sickness began. His gag reflex has been too sensitive. Now, as he slowly started to feel a little less of that concern in recent days, he was ready to fully consume his angel. The anticipation of taking his lover into his mouth again burned into his skin. He buried his face into the warmth at Aziraphale's center, taking in the light floral scent of his skin and the fabric, finding the familiar musk of his cock. It sent a tingle down Crowley's spine and into his legs. He kissed the hard bulge over the fabric, smiling into it as a sharp gasp floated down from Aziraphale.

Aziraphale's fingers found their way through red waves, caressing them gently now, but at the ready to grasp them. He looked down at Crowley, on his knees and hungry, golden eyes ablaze in the firelight. The burning pleasure at his core began to pulse and send waves throughout him in anticipation of what the demon's mouth was about to do. That this masterful creature, growing thick with his child, was kneeling before him, a lowly angel, pricked his brain and sent a firestorm of lust through him.

Crowley teased his fingers along the waistband of the pants, causing the angel to whimper, before he pulled them down and off. As he did so, he leaned all the way down, so he could trail kisses up Aziraphale's socked feet, past the garters, to the knees, and onto those deliciously inviting thighs, which were quivering just so slightly. He nibbled at each one, his palms slowly petting them, reaching up toward the plush of his ass. He brought his hands around to the front to fondle the round bottom of Aziraphale's belly poking out from the bottom of his vest. Crowley let out a slow sigh at such a glorious sight.

"Oh, Crowley," Aziraphale choked over a hitched breath. Crowley's hands felt like fire, the kind that cleanses and blesses you. He closed his eyes to the sensation, taking in the feel of each nerve waking at the touch of his lover. Soon, a soft cry was brought out as he felt the warm breath from Crowley's mouth pour out near his cock. He opened his eyes and looked down to see Crowley, gaze locked on him, ready to take his first taste of the aching cock in months. How he had missed the feel of the hot wet sinfulness of the demon's tongue, the welcoming damnation of the back of his throat. His cock jerked in anticipation.

"Mmmm. Look at you," Crowley growled as he noticed the excited twitch of Aziraphale's cock. "I've been craving this for months." Still holding the gaze of those blue eyes, he slowly licked his top lip. His mouth was watering in its eagerness to taste Aziraphale there again.

He dropped tiny kisses along the shaft, giggling at how they made the cock twitch even more. The foreskin was strained, barely covering the head. Crowley felt a trickle leave his center as he thought of the velvety glide of that skin inside his cunt, something he fully intended to feel later in the night. He took another deep breath to savor the most secret scent of his lover, a scent that only he was blessed to experience. This was for him only, he possessed this part of the angel. His wetness grew at the thought.

With graceful fingers wrapping around the base of the shaft, Crowley opened his mouth and devoured Aziraphale in one glorious movement with a desperate moan. He tasted like a fine meal after months of starvation. Mmmm…Salty from the precum that eagerly gathered at the tip. Sweaty, the taste of his sweet skin mixed with sex. Sinfully angelic.

Aziraphale moaned loudly at the feel of that beautiful mouth wrapped around him again. The tip of Crowley's tongue was edging just underneath his foreskin, sending tiny electric shockwaves through his dick and into his center, where the sensation exploded and rolled through him. His fingers began to tighten in Crowley's hair.

Crowley's mouth was watering, his tongue slowly and deliberately tracing all along the head of Aziraphale's cock. Slowly, he began to glide his lips up and down the shaft, taking each inch with care. He moaned around the flesh and drew his mouth up and over the head, letting go with a pop, which earned him a yank in his hair. A gleeful grunt escaped him. He looked up at Aziraphale and stared, taking a broad lick from the base of his cock all the way to the tip where he let his tongue swirl round and round, never letting go of his gaze.

Aziraphale's skin was flushed and sweat began to bead at his shoulders and down his back. His head was swirling from the dizzying sensations on his dick and the sight of Crowley, genuflecting in front of him, consuming the most primal part of him, his wet mouth red and hungry and his eyes ablaze with hellfire. How he wanted to fall with him at that very moment.

Crowley watched the flash in Aziraphale’s eyes and smiled around his dick. With one long, agonizingly slow, serpentine movement he inched his mouth further and further down the shaft until he found his nose pressed deep into the cornsilk curls at the base, the head of Aziraphale’s cock comfortably seated inside his throat.

Aziraphale gave a cry that was captured by a deep groan as he arched his head back, grabbing a fistful of Crowley’s hair while the sensation of the head of his cock being enveloped by the demon’s deep throat rang throughout his body. “Oh…fuck…Crowley.” His chest heaved with the force of his breath while his thighs began to tremble. He looked back down at Crowley’s face, all but completely buried, citrine eyes looking up over his cloud-like poof of pubic hair. “Oh yes. Suck me, demon.”

Crowley raised a brow. A trickle of pre-cum slithered down his throat, inspiring a trickle of his own wetness to fall from his opening. His cunt was throbbing, he was soaked and his thighs were becoming slick with it. He slowly bobbed his head on Aziraphale's cock, swallowing him each time he moved down to the base. His fingers found their way to his balls, stopping there to roll them around and play with them. They tightened against Aziraphale's body in response. He moved his fingers to Aziraphale's taint, pressing into the soft flesh there.

A high-pitched cry found its way out of Aziraphale's throat. “Fuck…Demon. I won't last long with that.” He gasped once more as Crowley winked and pressed more firmly. His knees were weakening. It had been so long and he wanted to last, but the heavy pull deep in his low belly was winning out. He fisted Crowley's hair with both hands. "Demon slut," he hissed and he pulled Crowley’s head back just a little bit.

Crowley’s aching groan was loud, sending an unmistakable pulse of heavy vibrations through Aziraphale’s cock. Being called demon slut and having his hair grabbed nearly pushed him over the edge that his aching pussy was circling. He was turned on and happy that Aziraphale was talking to him like this, dominating him, and not treating him like breakable glass because he was pregnant. He let the angel pull his head back slowly. He smiled a filthy serpent smile. He opened his mouth wider, like a snake that had just devoured prey, so Aziraphale could see his cock deep in there and snaked his tongue around it, letting his spit mixed with precum fall out of his mouth just a bit, the lips on his face soaked every bit as much as the lips between his legs.

Pulling back, he moaned, “Feed me. Let me have you.” With that, his mouth was fully back on him, pulling him deep into his throat.

“Fuck!” Aziraphale wasn’t able to hold on anymore. The view of his pregnant demon on his knees with his cock buried deep in his throat, so fucking wet, and that beg to be fed…it had done him in. He had to release himself. “Don’t you lose a single drop, Demon.” The fire in Crowley’s eyes hit his own and he was lost to waves and stars under his skin, seizing his muscles, and bringing forth a crash of pleasure first deep in his core and then outward, seeking every receptive nerve in his body. His cock strained and twitched as he delivered spurt after spurt of his hot cum down Crowley’s throat. He held tightly to Crowley’s head, listening to the wet sounds of his mouth, the gag in his throat, the gulps coupled with the demon’s grunty breathing. It was shamelessly filthy and he craved it. His cries were indecent, even more so when Crowley drew back a little to show some cum left in his mouth before he swallowed again and then licked each inch of his dick clean.

"Mmmm." Crowley had shamelessly gulped down every drop. He was amazed at how he had been hungrier for the taste of Aziraphale's seed than he ever thought over these last two months. That taste of the hot and salty spend of his angel as it had washed down his throat brought him to a peak that he teetered on and he managed to hold back from tipping over. There was still so much to savor this night and, though both were capable of multiple orgasms, he had wanted Aziraphale to be fully attended to and worshiped first. He carefully trailed his tongue over Aziraphale's eager cock, making doubly sure that not a single drop of cum was left.

"As delicious as it has ever been. Thank you, Angel." Crowley licked his lips and stood up, pressing his lips to Aziraphale's, driving his tongue into his mouth.

Ahh, the delightful taste of himself on Crowley's tongue. Aziraphale loved it and was glad to experience it once again.

"Have you had your fill?"

"For now," Crowley whispered, nibbling at Aziraphale's neck.

"One wonders if it's rather impolite to eat in front of someone without offering them a meal of their own." He pulled back from Crowley's nibbles, took his wrists in his hands, and looked at his eyes. His own darkened. "You wouldn't ever be that impolite, would you, Demon?" He pouted.

Oh fuck. This was about to be a whole thing.

"No. Never." He allowed Aziraphale to walk him backwards to the bed and stop him before he could climb on.

"I'd love to see what I'm about to ravish, my dear. Undress yourself for me, please," commanded Aziraphale in the low register of his voice that sent Crowley reeling.

Crowley undid the top two buttons of his black silk pajama top and went to pull the rest over his head.

"Ah. Ah. We take our time undressing, don't we?" Aziraphale held his gaze. "Eyes on me."

Crowley kept his gaze and slowly unbuttoned the rest of his pyjama top. A corner of his mouth pulled up as he saw the flash of desire in Aziraphale's eyes as the top draped open, revealing a hint of his curves. He traced the underside of one before sliding the top off his shoulders.

Aziraphale licked his lips in anticipation of his mouth working on those curves. “Very nice.”

Lithe fingers teasingly twirled the drawstring of Crowley's pyjama bottoms. He slowly pulled one side, unfurling the bow. Gazes still held, he took a big breath and smoothed his hands down his skin from his chest to his belly before slowly hooking his thumbs into the band of his trousers and pulling them down, letting the silk pool at his feet. He lifted one leg and then the other to remove his socks. He was proud to stand there and let Aziraphale see the new fullness to him.

Aziraphale drank in the sight. Crowley stood before him in the nude, save for his black cotton knickers with a sky blue bow - how sweet. His lissome body with the smallest hint of curves at the chest, low belly, and hips was deliciously tempting and fertile, awakening a primal arousal within Aziraphale.

“Tempting angels is a sin Demon.”

“I love sin, Angel.” Crowley hissed.

Crowley began to pull at the waistband of his knickers.

"Ah!" cautioned Aziraphale. "Those remain for now."

"They're soaked, Angel." Crowley ached and throbbed all over, but he felt it the most at his center, dripping wet.

"Are they now? I wonder how that happened?" Aziraphale raised a brow.

"You. You do it to me," Crowley choked. If he flinched even one muscle he would come. He was sure of it.

"Do I now?" Aziraphale fingered the hem of his vest and pulled it over his head. "Now tell me, do I leave these socks on or take them off?"

"O-o-on," Crowley struggled to get the two letters out of his mouth. Aziraphale in garters and socks was a fetish of his. He stared at the naked, besocked angel in front of him. So beautiful. So sumptuous and lavish. His thighs and belly were regal and decadent. His chest - strong and to die for. He wanted all of him at that very moment. He would have to behave first.

Aziraphale saw the movement in Crowley's eyes, tracing his body. "See something you like?"

"All-all of it. I want all of it. In every way. Now. Pl-please."

"I bet you do, my dear." He tickled his fingers down his belly to the tops of his thighs. "Patience is a virtue and you are doing so well." He simply stood there for just this side of three minutes, holding Crowley's eyes with his own, breathing evenly, knowing that the lack of words or movement was driving his demon wild on the inside.

"Speaking of patience, touch yourself for me. Through your knickers. Don't come." Aziraphale could smell Crowley's wetness now, eager and anticipatory. His cock twitched and began to stiffen again.

Crowley sucked air between his teeth as he reached down to touch the heat in his knickers, the cotton soaked through and warm. His clit was desperate in its throbbing. "Ang-Angel, oh…" his voice trailed and he took a steady breath and squeezed his eyes in an attempt to keep his climax at bay.

"Eyes remain on mine, Demon." Aziraphale took a step closer and gripped Crowley's chin in his hand. He reached his other hand to cover Crowley's over his cunt, moving the demon's fingers for him.

Crowley whimpered. “Please.” He was using all of his willpower and demonic strength.

“So polite, my dear. Such politeness will be rewarded soon. Hmmm?” He let go of his chin and brushed his lips over Crowley’s. He placed his knee between Crowley’s legs, parting them slightly. He could feel the shake in the muscles. “Who do you belong to, Demon?”

“You.” Crowley whined. Crowley took the hand covering his and moved it up to his small bump. “All of this is for you.”

Aziraphale’s breath shuddered. He had not anticipated that at all. And he fucking loved it. He blinked to regain control and gave Crowley a whisper of a kiss to acknowledge the sacredness in that small moment. “Lie back for me.”

Crowley scooted back on the mattress and laid down into the pillows, one hand over his chest, the other at his navel.

“You're doing so well. So beautiful. So tempting. I should like to taste you in just a moment.”

Aziraphale crawled over him and kissed him on the lips briefly before trailing his kisses down his neck, to his chest, stopping at each curve to pay them attention with his tongue. He glided his tongue down to his navel, leaving a kiss there, before landing at the small swell at Crowley’s waistband. Reverent kisses were danced along the skin there. He felt his lip quiver.

Crowley’s breath hitched over the moment. They were in their soft dom/sub scene, but this moment was something different entirely. His heart was light and a surge of deep love welled up when he felt the drops fall from Aziraphale’s eyes onto his skin, leaving shimmering trails over his bump. He reached down to cup Aziraphale’s face, tilting it so he could look in his eyes. His own welled up. “I love you, Angel,” he whispered.

Aziraphale turned his face into one of Crowley’s hands and pressed a kiss to the palm, squeezing his eyes against more tears. He took a few breaths to regain his composure, unsure if he could return to their scene like this. He was determined to. “I love you, Demon,” he whispered back. A few more breaths and he returned to the task at hand.

He edged his nose along Crowley’s knickers. Oh my - they were soaked. Aziraphale thought he may become intoxicated by the smell alone. He decided to use one of Crowley’s moves and placed his mouth on him over the fabric.

Crowley gasped and rolled his hips towards Aziraphale’s mouth. “Fuck, Angel. Please.” He pulled at the bedsheet. He was a ticking bomb and nearly powerless to stop an explosion. “I’m going to come. I can’t…I can’t…”

Aziraphale lifted his head. “Hold that thought, Demon.” He kissed his clit through the fabric. “Eyes on mine.” Kiss. “You are being so good.” Kiss. “So polite.” Kiss. “So patient.” Kiss. “Your reward is closer than you think.” Kiss. “Just let me get these knickers off you.” Kiss. “Can’t have you come in these - they can’t handle anymore soaking.” With that, he glided the tip of his tongue up the center of Crowley’s lips, feeling them quiver through the cotton and tasting the wetness there. “Mmmm. What a nice little appetizer.”

Crowley was certain all the blood departed his brain and was pooled in his cunt. He could barely think, but relief was sure to come as Aziraphale made a promise:

“You’ve earned your reward my dear.” He pulled the knickers off with deft hands and - this was the first for a filthy angel - brought them up to his nose for a deep, satisfied inhale. He sighed. “No finer perfume.” He tossed them aside. “Now, spread your legs for me. Let me look at you.”

Crowley was convinced he was actually a ghost. He probably died five minutes ago, orgasmless. Still, he was able to find the resolve to obey Aziraphale, spreading his legs open very wide, showcasing his flexibility, inviting the angel to please, for the love of someone, give him his release.

“So flexible.” Aziraphale admired what was laid out for him - folds of tasty pale pink lips, parted and glazed in a sheen of wetness, Crowley’s opening, clenching and releasing in agony, soaked and dripping onto the sheet. Beautiful dark Auburn hair parting at just the right spot to allow a peek at the hood covering Crowley’s reddened clit. “Oh, what a beautiful view you give me.”

“You are the most delectable and luxurious dessert I have ever laid eyes on.” He licked his lips and rubbed his hands together for effect. “Lucky for you, gluttony is my most favorite sin.” He moved swiftly to bend over and bring his face to Crowley’s cunt, stopping for just a moment to lay a heavy breath over it - his last tease.

“Bastard,” Crowley hissed, grabbing the back of Aziraphale’s head and pushing his face into him. “I hope you’ve said grace.”

Aziraphale relented and with a broad tongue he licked Crowley from his glistening wet hole to his hardened clit in one fluid motion. Crowley’s thighs clenched around his head.

Finally! Crowley’s body convulsed and his orgasm wasted no time, exploding through him with ferocity. He was an uncoordinated mess of movement. He arched his head and his back, squeezed Aziraphale with his thighs, undulated his hips, dug his heels into angel flanks, yanked the platinum white hair all while screaming the angel’s name. He wasn’t sure if he was having one orgasm or four and he eventually gripped the headboard so hard he thought he’d break it. He bucked his pussy up into Aziraphale’s face with each shock of pleasure that tore through him.

“Holy fucking hell,” Crowley said hoarsely. The relief was welcomed and dizzying.

Aziraphale remained attentive, lapping up the sweet juices that were all but pouring out of Crowley. He coupled his heavy licks with smaller swirls around his opening and then up to his clit, where he alternated between soft flicks of his tongue and gentle sucking.

Crowley was almost violently grinding himself into Aziraphale’s face and he was all too happy to be on the receiving end of it. He rode out Crowley’s orgasms, keeping his lips and tongue and even his nose dutifully at work as one climax rolled into another and another. He wasn’t sure if Crowley realized how sharply he scratched at the angel’s shoulder or how hard he was pulling at his hair, but Aziraphale wasn’t going to stop him. His ears were pounding from the pressure of Crowley’s thighs pressed against them and his skin burned where he had been scratched and had his hair pulled. That kind of pain travelled along ribbons of pleasure down to his cock, which was now hard and searching for its own secondary release. He gripped Crowley’s thighs and pressed his fingers into the muscle as he continued his demonic meal.

Crowley gasped and sputtered, searching for air as he came down. His eyesight was blurry and he tried to refocus. “Zir…Zir…Ahh…Ziraphale.” He was pleading and praising at once. The fireplace had died down quite a bit, but the room was still very warm. “Win-Window, Zir’phale,” he asked on a breathless voice.

Aziraphale kissed the shivering wetness several times before looking up and waving his hand at one of the windows, opening it with a miracle.

Cold air streamed in and hit their skin, leaving gooseflesh. It felt refreshing to both of them, but most especially Crowley. Snakes liked heat, but that had been incredibly intense even for a demon who’d happily bathe in hellfire.

Aziraphale moved up to kiss him on the lips. Crowley kissed back hungrily, wanting to taste every trace of himself on Aziraphale’s lips and tongue. When he did, he felt another climax build and he stiffened before relaxing into its release, moaning into Azirphale’s mouth and breathing in his exhales.

Aziraphale hovered his middle over Crowley’s, unsure if he should lay on top of him now that the bump was officially here. He didn’t have to think on it too long.

“We won’t break.” Crowley pulled him down. “I promise.” He knew eventually he’d have to give up on feeling Aziraphale’s comforting weight on top of him, so he was going to soak up every opportunity until then.

Aziraphale’s eyes searched Crowley’s, checking in with him in their unspoken language. Crowley nodded affirmatively and they kissed.

“You are incredible. My sweet, sweet filthy angel.”

Crowley wasn’t done. Neither was Aziraphale. His cock remained hard and pressed up against one of Crowley’s hips, ready for the next show. Crowley needed to make a quick trip to the loo, commanding Aziraphale, “don’t move and don’t you dare clean anything up.” The sheets were soaked with his sweat and his wetness. Both he and Aziraphale were also covered in sheens of sweat.

Upon his quick return, Crowley pulled Aziraphale to him. They sat face to face, kissing, Crowley straddling Aziraphale’s thighs, the angel’s cock resting under his warmth. Crowley ground himself on it and moaned. “Make love to me, Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale reached his hands up to pet Crowley’s hair in soothing motions. He lowered him back down onto the pillows and leaned over to kiss him, moving down to his chest. He hadn’t taken enough time there yet tonight. He took one into his mouth and sucked on it, twirling his tongue along the hardened nipple while his hand played with the other. Crowley’s chest rose and fell rapidly.

Back to his mouth, they crushed lips together. Aziraphale’s cock rested against Crowley’s mons. He slowly moved his hips back and forth, sliding the shaft along Crowley’s lips and clit, bringing forth choked cries from the demon.

Crowley was desperate to feel him inside. He put his hand up against Aziraphale’s chest to stop him. “Hold for just a moment. I want to turn around.”

“You’re sure?” Aziraphale asked.

“Very.” Crowley turned around and rose to his hands and knees. He shuffled up a bit so he could get a firm grasp on the headboard if needed.

“Do you need me to move the mirror?” A necessary question for this position.

“No,” Crowley nodded toward the window. There was just enough firelight to illuminate them and he could see their reflection in the window if he needed. He craned his neck back and kissed Aziraphale. “Fuck me, Angel.”

Aziraphale kissed him once more and then leaned back to line himself up. This was a new view with this new configuration. He was used to an arse. Now it was that and the juicy pink folds and their welcoming entrance, all coupled with the snaky dip to his back, his buttocks pressed into the air. He teased the head of his cock along Crowley’s clit a few times and then ran the head back and forth over the middle of the lips before teasing the hole, all while Crowley moaned and writhed. He leaned forward and left a few kisses on the back of a freckled shoulder and then lined up again. Keeping one hand on Crowley’s hip, more for reassurance than anything, he held his cock in his hand and slowly pushed into the opening. What a sight. “Oh…Oh!” Aziraphale watched the hole swallow him, his shaft going deeper and deeper, disappearing into Crowley’s velvet grip, until he was completely buried in it. He paused there, putting his other hand on Crowley’s opposite hip and checking in for non-verbal cues.

Crowley whimpered. “You feel ssso good, Angel.”

Aziraphale slowly began thrusting. He gasped when he looked down and saw the thin flesh of Crowley’s hole tightly hugging his cock each time he pulled back. That was a new sight for him and he felt a deep flush under his skin. There was a sensuous interplay between that part of Crowley and his own foreskin. It was art to him.

“Crowley, you’re beautiful.” He remained transfixed at the sight, thrusting slowly, selfishly. He pulled all the way out and pushed back in. “Oh my God.” Aziraphale had a new addiction. He almost asked to film it.

This position hit different for Crowley, just as it does when he gets fucked in the ass. Aziraphale frequently hit his G-spot in other positions, but in this one it seemed more intense. A climax quickly built up and he clenched around Aziraphale’s cock throughout it, making the angel howl in ecstasy. They both felt any remaining resolve snap as Crowley pushed his slinky hips back to meet Aziraphale’s thrusts. “Fuck. Harder, Angel.”

Aziraphale quickened his thrusts, causing Crowley’s taut buttocks to vibrate. Soon, the frantic sound of skin and balls slapping together filled the room along with their grunts and the wet slide of Aziraphale’s cock into Crowley..

At one point, Crowley straightened his upper body so that he could reach around to Aziraphale’s head and pull him into a kiss. He grabbed Aziraphale’s other hand and brought it to his breasts, groaning feverishly as the angel kneaded him there.

Aziraphale skimmed his hand down Crowley’s belly to his cunt, circling his finger around his clit. They lost count of which orgasm number that was, but it caused Crowley to scream out a strangled moan and lean back over onto his hands, gripping at the pillows. He turned his head to look at their firelit reflection in the window and came undone once again at the sight. Crowley dropped his head into the pillows and cried with the rocking of his body.

“Your cock feels incredible,” Crowley growled, pushing himself back up on his arms.

Aziraphale pounded into him harder, overtaken by the sights and sounds in this position. He felt tension pulling inward, ready to spring forth and shoot him off into the stars. “Crowley!” his voice was cut off by a grunt as his muscles seized and his cock pulsed to flood into Crowley with his seed.

Crowley couldn’t believe that he was being gripped with one more orgasm. His entire body felt like static as the hot spend of Aziraphale filled him up while the angel’s body shuddered against him. His voice high and raspy, he cried and gripped Aziraphale’s hand at his hip. His entire body was shaking now, weak from exertion and repeated orgasms.

Aziraphale curled over him, kissing up his spine to his flushed shoulders and the back of his neck. “Crowley,” he sighed. “I love you.” His belly filled the curve in his back and they stayed like that for a moment, panting and refocusing consciousness.

Crowley sank down into the mattress, letting Aziraphale sink down with him. “Do.Not.Move.Angel.” He was happy under the supple form of his lover. He shifted to dislodge a bunched up ball of sheet under his belly. It didn’t work. It took a moment for Crowley to realize that it wasn't some balled up sheet, it was his belly. It felt like he was laying on a grapefruit. He smiled.

“Aziraphale, can you reach your hand under me? Feel my belly this way.”

It was awkward, but Aziraphale managed to reach a hand under Crowley and felt the large, hard bump pressed into his palm. “Oh!” What an amazing feeling. He lifted himself off of Crowley. Yes, he insisted they were fine, but Aziraphale wanted to be safe.

Crowley turned over onto his back. He pulled Aziraphale closer to him for a kiss. “What an incredible night.”

Aziraphale brushed his nose over Crowley’s. “You did so, so well, my love. How do you feel?”

“Pretty good for someone who died about 15 times.” Crowley laughed, nudging Aziraphale’s nose back and then kissing it. “I’m obsessed with this nose.”

“I think it brought you orgasm number 8,” he laughed, thinking of how he had used it on Crowley’s clit while he ate him up. He rolled off the bed and stood up. “I’ll be right back.” He turned around and came back, leaning to kiss Crowley. “Ok, now I’ll be back.”

Crowley propped himself up on a few pillows and sighed contentedly. The day started in such a beautiful way and ended the same. He hadn’t felt this good, physically, in quite some time. Emotionally, he was just simply happy. He was also proud of himself for accepting doggy style - the reason why it was an issue was something he still needed to unpack, but each time they did it, he felt a little more at ease and safe.

A wide smile spread on his face when Aziraphale walked back in the room. “Look at you, gorgeous.” His strong lover, so perfectly built, stood there completely starkers, save for his socks and garters, holding a tray with water, orange juice, strawberries, and some biscuits.

Aziraphale sat back down on the bed. “Just a little snake resuscitation snack.” He held up the orange juice to Crowley’s lips. “There you go.” He leaned over and kissed his forehead. “You worked very hard, darling.”

“So did you,” Crowley said with a mouthful after Aziraphale fed him a strawberry. It tasted like heaven. “These are so good.”

Aziraphale took gentle care of Crowley, feeding him and giving him sips of orange juice. Crowley had been very shaky toward the end of their session and he wanted to be sure he was well hydrated and had plenty of calories.

After finishing his snacks, Crowley melted into the mattress as Aziraphale gave him a gentle massage, working through all of his well-used muscles. The angel indulged himself in some kisses along the demon’s body for good measure. They eventually found themselves facing one another, Aziraphale letting his hands wander over Crowley’s body and down to his belly, cupping the bump. “What a wonder you are.”

Crowley felt the same surge of warmth and happiness he always felt whenever Aziraphale described him as a wonder or a miracle. It helped him feel confident in reclaiming honor for his body. He nuzzled his face into Aziraphale’s chest. “I love you, Angel,” he yawned. He didn’t want the night to end he never does - but he was full, happy, and well-loved and his pregnant body’s need for rest won out. He cupped his new bump, sending love to the being there.

Aziraphale pulled a blanket over them and pulled Crowley tighter into the safety of his arms, dipping his perfect nose into sweaty red hair and letting the dizzying scent lull him into sleep.

Chapter Text

Over breakfast, Aziraphale declared that he would be closing the shop for the remainder of the holiday season, not to open until after the New Year. “It will be a shame to miss the holiday rush for my customers, but there is much to do here for Christmas entertaining and, outside of your appointments, I’d rather stay in South Downs for the remainder of Yuletide.”

“Number one,” Crowley said, popping a raspberry into his mouth, “what customers? The ones you would shoo out the door if they so much dared to set foot inside days before Christmas looking for some Santa tales?”

Aziraphale clicked his tongue and sipped his tea.

“Number two,” he popped a blackberry in his mouth, “So much to do? So much to do, Angel?” He grabbed a handful of blueberries and ate one delicately before shoving the rest into his mouth. “What happened to my “no fuss” angel?” he mumbled around the berries. “I could’ve sworn someone in this room claimed he wasn’t going to fuss. And I know angels don’t lie.”

Aziraphale threw a strawberry at him, which Crowley promptly caught and ate.

“Oi. Last time you threw something at me - not twelve hours ago, mind - I ended up nearly expiring from two dozen orgasms.” He laughed.

Aziraphale took another sip of his tea. He tapped the pencil he was using for his crossword puzzle on the table. “I’m not going to fuss. I just have standards. There’s a difference. Just a little decorating. Perhaps we’ll bake some Christmas biscuits. A smidge of tree-trimming. All very simple, really.”

“Right. Simple. Standards. Smidge. Well, just remember to keep your standards out of my plant room. I don’t want to find strands of popcorn or twinkle lights on my plants.” He slapped the table. “Fuck. I need to pot those new ones. Guess I know what I’m doing if I ever get out of this chair.”

“Are you even in the chair?” Aziraphale eyed the way Crowley was slouched in the seat, one leg dangling over an arm, the other stretched out in the opposite direction, one arm slung across the back. Nothing about it looked comfortable. “Besides, I wouldn’t dream of violating your plants with Christmas cheer.” His eyes brightened. “Stringing popcorn would be fun now that you mention it.” He wiggled his fingers.

Crowley threw his head back and groaned. “Ugh, why did I mention that?” He stood up and brought his plates to the sink and washed them. He leaned down and gave Aziraphale a kiss. “Thank you for breakfast. I hope it stays down today.” Breakfast had been 2 bowls full of berries, 3 hard boiled eggs, sausages, and toast - with Nutella. Crowley had woken with a screaming appetite and barely any nausea, so he took full advantage of it.

“I’m going to pot those plants,” he said as he sauntered away.

Aziraphale watched him walk off, peering over his little spectacles. It had been a good morning for Crowley and he was happy about that, sensing that things were starting to change with the pregnancy as some old symptoms drifted away to make room for new ones. He wondered what the demon’s swagger would look like in the coming months as he grew. He laughed as a ridiculous image of a largely pregnant Crowley trying to sway his hips popped into his mind.

Plants potted. Kitchen cleaned. Linens washed and bed made. Celestial beings showered, shaved, and dressed. The simple morning rolled into a simple afternoon with lunch followed by prep to head back to the bookshop. Aziraphale did one more run through of the fridge and pantry, jotting down things they needed to pick up at the shops, both for their own meals and to prep for his very no-fuss Christmas dinner with friends. They’d only stay in Soho for a couple of days to close up the shop and then head to Tadfield for Crowley’s appointment before returning to the cottage.

The drive back to London betrayed Crowley as he ended up pulling over. He grimaced and leaned his head back, trying to will his stomach into behaving. It did not, leading him to jog out of the car and duck behind a tree. Though his sickness was changing, lessening some, it was no less persistent when it wanted to be.

Crowley’s stomach forgot all about it by the time the Bentley pulled up to the kerb of the bookshop. Nina’s coffee shop was still open. He could see Maggie inside, standing at the counter. “Let’s go say hello,” he said.

“Wait.” Aziraphale placed his hand on Crowley’s arm. “We haven’t discussed telling people about the engagement. What are our plans for that?”

“Oh….uh…how does this sort of thing work?” As if he doesn’t watch sappy romantic comedies and tv shows.

“Generally, you tell the people you care about first.” He thought about the ring he had ordered. People were bound to ask about rings and he didn’t want to tip Crowley off.

“Well, that narrows it. Do we want to tell them now?” He thought about the ring he had ordered.
People were bound to ask about rings and he didn’t want to tip Aziraphale off.

“What if we wait until we have everyone gathered for Christmas and announce our engagement then?” He clapped his hands together. That would be a delightful surprise, he thought.

“I like that idea.” He looked down at his belly. “And the baby? We can tell the rest of them about the baby.”

“Oh! That would be wonderful. We have such happy news to share with everyone.”

“Right.” His stomach grumbled. “Over to Nina.”

“Gentleman!” Nina and Maggie beamed at them. “Great to see you back.”

“Only for a short while, my dear friends. We’re only here to close up the shop and attend to Crowley’s prenatal appointment.”

“Food,” Crowley interrupted. “What’ve you got left today?”

“Oh good Lord,” Aziraphale feigned annoyance. “I believe we’re entering the insatiable cravings phase. Can’t say I blame him.” He patted his own tummy. “We’re always satisfied by your scrumptious offerings, dear Nina.”

Nina popped behind the counter to box up a variety of treats for Crowley as well as a few sandwiches while she chatted to Aziraphale about Whickber Street business news.

“You look cozy,” Maggie eyed Crowley up and down. He was in his usual slinky black trousers - miracled to fit - and a thick, deep navy blue jumper, picked out by his angel. It was so warm that he didn’t need a coat despite the cold.

“Want to see something?” He asked conspiratorially. He lifted the hem of his sweater and pointed to the bump protruding under his belt. “It’s getting more real.” He smiled, excited that he was showing someone this new little part of him.

Maggie held her hand over her mouth. “Oh! You look so cute with a baby belly, Mr. Crowley. Just look at you,” she whispered with a broad smile. “How can you still wear these pants and that belt, though?”

“We have our ways of making it work. I don’t think it will be working for much longer, though. Even with a bit of Aziraphalic - “ he stopped to laugh at the word he just made up. Phallic. - “intervention, this just isn’t comfortable enough.”

“I’d imagine it can’t be. They make skinny maternity jeans, but you need a softer waist and not a belt.”

Maternity jeans? Crowley seemed to just realize that he was going to have to make serious decisions regarding clothing in the coming months. “I haven’t even given that part much thought.”

“The maternity clothes these days are so much more trendy and stylish. Nothing like the old days.”

Crowley chuckled at her idea of “old days.”

Once they were back at the shop, Crowley noticed the annoyed look on Aziraphale’s face. “What is it, Angel?”

“Nina reminded me of the Whickber Street Traders Association holiday party, of which I am technically in charge.. Just a few days before the New Year. Well, not anymore. Mr. Brown has so generously,” he rolled his eyes, “taken it upon himself to host said party at the Dirty Donkey. I’ve been otherwise engaged - no pun - and it completely slipped my mind.”

“Well, let him deal with the bullshit of planning it and organizing it. We’ll head up here for the day, make an appearance, eat all the food, drink all the non-alcoholic drinks, schmooze a bit….did I say eat all the food? It’ll be great.” He poked through one of the bags from Nina.

“I’m just annoyed with myself for forgetting.” He squeezed his fingers with his opposite hand. “And irritated that Mr. Brown is hosting, if I’m being perfectly honest. He’s going to be so smug.”

Crowley hugged him. “Hmmm. Why are you forgetting silly things like a stuffy old holiday party, Angel? Do you think maybe it’s because you have more important things on your mind? Perhaps a pregnant fiancé? A new baby? A new cottage?” He kissed his cheek and lowered his voice. “You can’t be everything to everyone all the time. You’re taking care of the very real and very important things. And feeding me, which is a full time job at this point.”

Aziraphale sighed. “I do suppose you’re right.” He pulled off his jacket and hung it on the coat rack.

“Of course I am. I’m generous, too. Won’t even lord being right over you.” He winked. “Just this time, though. Consider it an early Christmas present.” He smiled at his dejected angel and pulled him back to him, holding his face in his hands. “Don’t go giving my angel shit, Aziraphale. I don’t take kindly to people who treat him poorly. Just ask Heaven and Hell.” He pressed their lips together.

“C’mon, let's head upstairs and relax. And eat everything from Nina.” He pulled Aziraphale by the hand towards the stairs. “And then you can eat me.”

Aziraphale followed him upstairs. Dinner was a hodgepodge of sandwiches and pastries from Nina. Conversation was light and easy with Crowley keeping Aziraphale distracted from stewing about the Whickber Street Traders Association Holiday Party.

In the parlour after dinner, Crowley and Aziraphale curled up on the sofa in their pyjamas. Crowley scrolled through the TV looking for something to watch while Aziraphale finally began casting yarn onto his needles to start knitting the blanket for their bed at the cottage. Crowley thought of how the delicate creams and blues of the thick, soft yarn would likely burn his skin and laughed to himself.

Crowley settled on one of his favorite Christmas movies - Love Actually. There was no shortage of eye candy, especially Colin Firth. He sighed - both he and Aziraphale fancied him. It’s how Aziraphale finally got him interested in Pride and Prejudice.

Despite his trifecta of eye candy; Firth, Rickman, and Grant - fuck, also Nighy, he thought - Crowley quickly found himself distracted and mesmerized by Aziraphale knitting and the way his hands moved the needles, quickly and magically making the yarn obey and weave itself into his intended pattern. Aziraphale’s face was soft and relaxed, though his brows were slightly knitted together in concentration. A small smile laid on his lips. Crowley hadn’t seen him knit in a long, long time and he was happy that the angel was taking it back up. Aziraphale was highly skilled, which meant there would be no shortage of hand knit clothes for the baby. For all three - three! - of them, really.

Look at him, doing everything for me and the baby, Crowley thought.

Aziraphale caught his eyes for a moment and flashed a smile. Look at him, doing everything to grow our baby, Aziraphale thought.

Later that night, after another very intense round of lovemaking, in which they nearly broke the bed and Crowley’s orgasm record, Aziraphale reminded him that they should take his 10 week bump pic.

Crowley quickly threw on the pair of pyjama bottoms that had been on the floor. They roared in laughter when those trousers fell down as he walked. In his post-orgasmic haze he hadn't realized he picked up Aziraphale’s delicate tartan-patterned trousers.

Crowley tightened the drawstring. “There. They’ll stay up now.” He loved any chance to wear Aziraphale's clothes. He looked in the mirror and brushed his hair back. He was gorgeously disheveled with a post sex glow. Even he thought so. He posed for his bump pic, elated that there was a bump to actually see. He covered his chest with his forearm.

“A small part of me is tickled pink that we will look back at such a lovely photo and know what debauchery occurred just before it,” said Aziraphale as he handed Crowley’s phone back to him.

Aziraphale caught his breath at the sight of Crowley, who just simply glowed with his gorgeous skin and glamorously messy hair, his delicate bosom on that lithe frame with its precious bump, Aziraphale's trousers pulled tightly just under it. Of course the fabric draped Crowley's legs the way some haute couture piece on a runway model would. Of course.

Crowley kicked off the trousers before getting back into bed, but picked up Aziraphale's pyjama top, pulling it onto himself and lifting a piece of it up to his nose for an inhale of the heavenly blend of florals, books, and, well, Heaven. Aziraphale was the most comfortable scent in the universe. “Think I’ll keep this.” He snuggled into the warm safety of Aziraphale's arms, happy to accept the kisses that fell onto his head.

Aziraphale opted to remain awake. Once Crowley was in a deep sleep, he got up to get his knitting from where he left it in the parlour. Walking back into the bedroom, he was transfixed by the sight of him, laying on his back with Aziraphale's pyjama top unbuttoned and draped over his torso, exposing curves at the chest and belly. His elegant fingers rested softly on his little bump, just above the thatch of ginger hair that was catching the nighttime Soho light from outside. His face was soft and serene, framed by wild garnet waves.

“Such a beauty,” he whispered.

He dropped his basket of knitting on the floor by the armchair and quickly pulled on his boxers and vest before draping a dressing gown over himself and donning a pair of slippers. He crept down the stairs and rifled through his desk in the dark until he found his sketchbook and a small pouch of pencils.

Back upstairs, he sank into the armchair and snapped so the lamp would give out just the smallest amount of soft light and not disturb Crowley. He immediately got to work sketching the scene in front of him, reverently tracing the outline of his lover’s body with his eyes and imparting the image in graphite onto the page. Every dimple, every curve, every angle was drawn out with reverence. He shaded with his fingers, delicately, as if he was running those same fingers over Crowley’s skin. Swirls of pencil brought the waves and curls of all of the hair on the demon’s body to the drawing. Measured lines caught the evenness and predictability of the tartan pattern on the pyjama top. He captured the way darkness and light bounced over the demon’s skin. When he began shading in the part of Crowley’s belly where their child grew, Aziraphale pulled up the lapel of his dressing gown and dabbed at his eyes.

With dawn approaching and the portrait finished, Aziraphale sat back and admired his work. He wanted to document all of these new moments with Crowley whether it was in the form of pictures or video or his drawings. Committing them to memory wasn’t enough. Miracles that would pull images in front of him weren’t enough. He wanted to capture and create these memories with his own hands. The way humans do.

He closed his sketch book and tucked it and the pencil pouch into the antique brown leather bag that traveled with him between the bookshop and cottage. He thought back to a time more than 80 years ago when Crowley had rescued that bag, then filled with books - the way Crowley’s finger briefly brushed against his when he handed it to him and a sharp tingle slithered through Aziraphale’s body as a realization of shared love rocked his soul in the midst of bomb fire. How they have shared so much history, so much uncertainty, so much seemingly unrequited love in their existence. He sat on a cloud of happiness now that they could relax in certainty and openly share their love - with the physical proof growing inside of Crowley. He wept heavily with the grief for all the previous versions of them that had been so desperate, so lonely, scared and unsafe. If only he could go back and reassure himself and especially Crowley that they would eventually get to this moment, where an angel relaxed in his dressing gown in their shared bedroom, admiring the view of the sleeping demon who was carrying their child. Safe, warm, loved.

Heavy with his mix of emotions, he removed his dressing gown and left it to hang over the back of the armchair. He climbed into bed and wrapped an arm around Crowley, leaving the tiniest kiss between his brows.

Crowley barely stirred, but mumbled, “turn over, my love.” When Aziraphale did so, Crowley pulled him in close, pressing his front to the angel’s back, his bump snuggling into a fleshy curve. He draped an arm over the angel’s belly, which was peeking out between the hem of his vest and his boxers. Finding his hand, he wound their fingers together. His lips touched the flesh behind Aziraphale’s ear and left a kiss there. “I love you, Angel. Every moment was worth it to get here.” With that, he was fast asleep again.

The pillowcase grew damp under Aziraphale’s face. He closed his eyes and he squeezed Crowley’s fingers, settling in with him. Guardian and warrior, Aziraphale let his soft frame melt into the protective embrace of his demon lover and fell asleep.

The next morning had been a blur and just a slight rush to get ready for Crowley’s appointment. In the kitchen, Crowley asked, “What about second breakfast?” as he and Aziraphale cleared the morning plates and the angel ushered him out the door to pick up something extra from Nina to eat on the way over.

Despite the hectic morning and Aziraphale’s frantic insistence that they would be late, they arrived early for their appointment and sat in the waiting room. The woman that Crowley had seen with her full pregnant belly when he had arrived at his very first appointment 2 months ago was there. Her belly was still pretty full in it’s postpartum loveliness and she was nursing a brand new baby in her arms.

She caught Crowley’s eye as he studied her. “Is this your first?” She asked, nodding towards Crowley’s belly.

Could she tell? Crowley looked down at himself. “Yeah. Our first. Yours?”

“Oh no,” she smiled down at her baby, “he’s number three. This group of midwives has been the best with my pregnancies and births. You’ll really love it with them.”

Crowley smiled. “Congrats on the newbie,” he said, just as Anathema poked her head out to call them in.

Crowley hopped up onto the exam table once they got into the room.

Anathema went through her usual routine of asking questions and taking vitals. She instructed Crowley to lay back, Aziraphale at his head, so she could continue to examine him. Her eyes widened when he pulled down his waistband. She was so happy with the vision in front of her.

“Crowley!” She squealed. “You brought me a baby belly!”

Crowley could not help the cheesy smile that grew on his face. “I did,” he patted his belly.

Aziraphale couldn’t resist a big smile on his face, either - mostly out of excitement and happiness for Crowley, but also because he couldn’t help but think, I put that in there. He blushed at his own thought.

After feeling around Crowley’s belly and gushing, Anathema grabbed the fetal doppler. A moment of static later, the room was filled with the hurried whooshing of their baby’s heartbeat. Tears pricked the corners of all of the eyes in the room and all three of them quietly thanked their various someone’s for this moment.

“I don’t suppose I’ll ever hear that without being moved,” Aziraphale said as he brought a handkerchief to his eye.

The three of them decided to skip his 11 week appointment and return just after Christmas when Crowley would be 12 weeks.

“Next appointment is the big one. We’ll be checking in with the ultrasound again. You’ll be amazed at how much this little one has changed in just a month,” Anathema said.

Crowley tingled with a mix of excitement and anxious nerves. He couldn’t wait to see the baby again, but he knew his anxiety would skyrocket in anticipation.

Back at the shop, Crowley was packing a few things into his bag for the cottage when he heard loud movement coming from down in the shop. Upon investigation, he found Aziraphale in a small little alcove, covered in dust bunnies, red-faced and huffing.

“Alright, Angel?”

“Right as rain, my dear. I thought it might be nice to bring a few of my older Christmas decorations to the cottage. I also found this,” he held up a dusty, nondescript box that had certainly seen better days. He pulled the top open and pulled out a rather pristine black and silver camera. “Ah. I’d quite like to take more pictures of us and knew I had a much more modern camera around here. Isn’t she a beauty?”

“Modern? That’s from the 40’s. 1840’s.” Crowley joked. He brushed a dust bunny off of Aziraphale’s shoulder.

Aziraphale rolled his eyes and patted Crowley on the arm. “She’s from the 1970’s, my dear. Practically brand new. A little miracle for some film and she is good to go.” He handed the camera in its box to an amused Crowley and continued pulling out much older boxes.

“Here now, very carefully.” He set the boxes on an empty-ish shelf and opened the lid to one of them, revealing delicate blown glass baubles of various shapes and colors. “I have quite the assortment of blown glass Christmas ornaments. I started collecting them after I received one as a gift from a delightful family in Lauscha, Germany a good 500 years ago. Kept them in tip top shape ever since!”

“Do you have any blown glass angels in those boxes? I know I’ve got my very own blown angel right here.” Crowley leaned down and gave a playful bite to Aziraphale’s ear.

Aziraphale closed his eyes and tried to strengthen his resolve against the flutter of arousal he suddenly felt down low. “As a matter of fact, I do have such ornaments. Now, we should pack these rather carefully and bring them to the cottage.”

Crowley pouted. “You’ve thwarted your demon.” He nudged his nose against Aziraphale’s neck.

Aziraphale swallowed hard. “All in a day’s work.”

“Mmmmmm,” said Crowley, taking the box out of Aziraphale’s hands.

“Mmm,” said Aziraphale, not stopping the demon who began to kneel in front of him.

Aziraphale found himself gripping the shelves - carefully, so as not to knock over his fragile wares - and moaning in the most indecent way as Crowley knelt in front of him, fully servicing his cock and politely licking him clean once his load was delivered into the demon’s throat.

Crowley stood to deliver a cum-flavored kiss to Aziraphale before grabbing the boxes of ornaments and walking away with a flourish.

“Don’t forget your camera, Angel,” he called behind him.

Aziraphale panted and smoothed out his waistcoat and checked that his trousers had been properly fastened. “Oh my,” he muttered as he grabbed the camera box. He hadn’t been expecting anything like that this afternoon. He was, if he admitted it, incredibly grateful that Crowley’s gag reflex had gone back on hiatus.

“Everything is tip top!” Aziraphale said, clapping his hands in the bookshop an hour later. Everything that needed to be done was done. The Bentley was packed. The shop was ready to be closed up for the season until their return just before the New Year.

Crowley walked out to the Bentley with his bag. The phone in the shop rang.

“A.Z. Fell and Co, we are closed for the season and will re-open in the New Year,” Aziraphale answered.

“Mr. Fell. I’m glad I caught you.” It was Alan, the jeweler. “I’ve been in a bit of a workaholic mode this last week and I have actually completed your ring ahead of schedule. I’m open everyday until 5:00 pm up until the 23rd.”

“Oh! How delightful! I’ll be in to pick it up this week. I’m sorry to cut you short, but my fiancé is milling about and I don’t want to raise suspicion. Oh, I do thank you so much.” He was excited. He’d have the ring for Crowley for Christmas! He wasn’t expecting that.

Crowley appeared in the doorway. “Ready, Angel?”

Crowley was ready for a nap when they got to the cottage. He helped Aziraphale bring everything in, ignoring the nervous tittering from the angel about delicate glass baubles and blah blah blah. He set the boxes in the sitting room where their tree would go and made his way to the bedroom, climbing into the bed and fluffing the pillows, ready for a brief little snooze. Aziraphale appeared in the doorway, fidgeting with his ring.

“I can feel the fussiness oozing off of you, Angel.” He pulled the duvet over himself.

“It’s just that, well, we’re rather underprepared to host everyone here in a few days, don’t you think? This place is woefully undecorated. We don’t even have a tree. I have ornaments, but no tree,” he let out a small laugh. “Fancy that. No garland. No trimmings. Plus, all the food. I think I’m rather down to the wire.”

Crowley groaned and stared at the ceiling. “I knew this wasn’t going to be simple. Tell you what, you give me an hour to nap and then I’ll drive us to Tesco and you can get whatever you need for your simple Christmas dinner and trimmings there. Then tomorrow, we can go to some twee little Christmas tree farm and we’ll get all the pagan greenery your little heart desires. He snapped his fingers. “All else fails, you can actually do miracles.” His tone was more biting than he intended and he could see Aziraphale flinch at it.

Aziraphale lowered his head and twisted his fingers in his hand. “Miracles just…well, they aren’t always…fun.”

“Angel…” Crowley rubbed his temples and sat up. “I’m sorry. ‘M not mad. Just very tired. I didn’t mean for any of it to come out that way. I’m sorry.” He felt very stupid in that moment. He hadn’t mean to sound so bitchy to Aziraphale. He was just…cranky.

“No. I’m sorry. It’s selfish of me to whinge and complain when you’re obviously exhausted. For very good reason, I might add.” He felt very stupid in that moment. He hadn’t meant to put any pressure on Crowley. He was just…fussy.

Crowley patted the bed next to him. “Come. Take a nap with me. You’re tired, too.”

“I don’t get tired, Crowley. And I have so much to do and -”

Crowley held up a finger. “Uh-uh. No. No, no, no. We’re not doing this. I didn’t ask you a question. Come. Lay down with me. Rest.” He patted the bed again. “Come now. Shoes off. Waistcoat, too. And the bowtie. Fucking relax.” He drew back the duvet.

Aziraphale stopped protesting and did as he was asked. He pulled his braces down and removed his bowtie before slipping under the duvet with Crowley.

Crowley pulled him in face to face. “Everything will get done.” His fingers soothed their way through Aziraphale’s hair. “We’ll work together. But you are going to learn to relax this week. I won’t have it any other way.” He kissed his divinely perfect nose. “Sorry for being a cranky demon. I mean, I am a cranky demon, but I’m sorry I directed it at you.” Another kiss for the nose.

Aziraphale sank into his embrace and let himself drift. Crowley was right, he could always use miracles to finish everything. Relaxation would take priority if it made his demon happy.

When they awoke to Crowley’s phone alarm an hour later they had every intention of getting out of bed and beginning some sort of productivity. It’s just that Aziraphale was there with his bowtie and waistcoat off and his top buttons unbuttoned with his braces hanging down and the look made Crowley feel things. Things that required him to bite kisses into the angel’s neck as he rode him to several climactic finishes.

Crowley pushed the trolley around Tesco while Aziraphale led him through aisles, list in hand. When they came across Christmas trappings, Aziraphale lit up at all of the offerings. Soon the trolley was full of string lights and extra ornaments - “ones that won't make me cry if they break,” the angel explained. Crowley was restless while Aziraphale browsed so he circled another aisle.

Within two minutes, Aziraphale was startled by a cacophony of loud Christmas music and animatronic voices.

Crowley came buzzing back into the aisle with Aziraphale. “Someone turned on all the musical decorations,” he said, looking over his shoulder.

“Someone? Do I know this someone?”

Crowley looked over his shoulder. “Dunno. Didn't get a good look at him.”

“Hmm. I suspect the culprit is 6’1” and gorgeous, with red hair and the most adorable baby belly.” He reached out to tickle Crowley’s belly.

An employee strode past muttering, “bloody kids,” as musical Christmas decorations still went off. Crowley snorted.

“They all have buttons that say ‘try me.’ I’m well known for my obedience.” He flashed a smile at Aziraphale.

Aziraphale isn't sure when it happened. Perhaps he was distracted while looking over boxes of Christmas lights, but, at some point, a ceramic duck wearing a Santa hat and holding a candy cane under its wing appeared in the trolley.

“What on Earth? Absolutely not.” He picked it up and looked to find the shelf where it belonged. That certainly did not go with his traditional English cottage Christmas vision. “You don't even like Christmas, Crowley.”

“But…but…it’s a duck in a Santa hat. I like ducks.” He held it to his chest.

“You know what to do with it.” With that, Aziraphale began to push the trolley out of the aisle.

Just a moment later, Crowley placed two of the ducks in the trolley.

“Crowley. I said to put that back.”

“You said I’d know what to do with it. That means, he needs a friend. Silly me, ducks love friends.”

Aziraphale closed his eyes and blew out a breath. “Fine. Fine. Just…fine. We can have Christmas ducks.”

“Is this a bad time to ask if we can have a dancing Santa?”

Aziraphale just stared at him.

“Right.” Crowley pursed his lips. “Can I pick just one more decoration? I am pregnant, for the record.”

“This is what we’re doing now? Go on then.”

Crowley came back with a nylon monstrosity. It was a Santa of sorts. Flattened. Legs and arms splayed out. “You put this on the side of your house or your roof and it makes it look like Santa crashed and went SPLAT!.” He snort-laughed.

“Put it in the trolley, Crowley. Just put it in the trolley.” It was time to distract his demon. “Want snacks? Why don't we go look for some snacks.”

Demon successfully drawn away from tacky Christmas decor, they finished up by shopping for groceries and headed home to finish out the day.

Aziraphale was knitting by the sitting room fire when Crowley, dressed in his pyjamas, came in and sat in his lap, slinking his way in between Aziraphale's arms and chest, carefully trying not to disturb the knitting. He leaned his head on the angel’s chest and closed his eyes, riding the steady breathing of his lover.

Aziraphale kissed the top of Crowley’s head and kept knitting for a moment. He was almost done with the blanket and was quite pleased with how it looked and how quickly he worked it up. He may have been rusty, but it was like riding a bicycle and he found it easy to fall back into his rhythm. Had it not been for a certain demon who was currently curled in his lap, he’d probably finish it within the hour.

Instead, he opted to put it aside for a moment and wound his arms along Crowley's shoulders and under his legs, cradling him. He stroked his shoulders and laid more kisses to his head before realizing Crowley was fast asleep. He reached for his knitting, but stopped. He looked all around the room and envisioned it decorated for Christmas. Crowley was right, he could just snap and have it all perfectly in place. He was quite tempted to do so, but still remained determined to do it on his own with Crowley’s help.

Crowley and Aziraphale have spent Christmas together, in some form or another, many times since the very first Christmas - which was certainly not in December. Historically, Crowley was not a Christmas fan, though he - often with great protest at first - would go along with Aziraphale’s holiday whims. Now, they were about to spend their first Christmas together as a couple and without Heaven or Hell nipping at their heels. It would be their first Christmas as parents-to-be and husbands-to-be . This Christmas would be their last as just the two of them. Next year, they would have an infant and, perhaps, actual presents under the tree. A dopey smile covered Aziraphale’s face as he pictured holidays to come with a baby and then toddler and then small child and maybe a new addition by then and …. Nope, that thought escaped the dark corners of his mind, so he caught it and stuffed it back there.

Aziraphale sighed and dropped his nose into the perfect mess of red waves at his chest. Crowley smelled so good - like vetiver and balsam, with just a slight hint of Aziraphale’s own lilac mixed in. It was easy to get drunk off of his scent, which was by design for a creature who was meant to tempt and to draw people in. Aziraphale felt quite fortunate that he had succumbed to such temptation - even before Crowley was a demon. He tightened his hold on Crowley and stood up, carrying him to bed and tucking him under the covers. He returned to the sitting room to grab his knitting and brought it back to the bedroom, where he spent the night finishing their blanket and beginning a new project - stockings.

Chapter Text

Their day was to be a whirlwind of activity. Crowley had awoken to Aziraphale’s freckle kisses and a greeting, “Blessed and Merry Yule, darling.” Crowley didn’t celebrate much of anything, but he did mark, ever so slightly, the movement of the sun and the stars. It was the Winter Solstice, the shortest day and longest night - Yule. A perfect day to get their tree and other greenery, Crowley thought, the way it used to be done.

“My skin is burning.” Crowley laughed, looking down at the covers over his body. The sheet and pillowcases were a delicate blue, the duvet was tartan, and now he was covered in a deliciously soft hand-knit blanket in a pattern of thick cream and blue stripes.

“You finished this quickly. I’m impressed.” He ran his hand along the edges of the blanket, feeling the dips and valleys of the stitches.

“Just a simple double Andalusian stitch. Works up rather quickly and easily. The real challenge will come when I work on jumpers and other finery.”

“Beautiful work, Aziraphale. You are a master at this. Really. Makes me want to stay in bed.” He yawned.

“Then you shall,” Aziraphale laughed. With some struggle from the demon and a goofy tangle of arms and legs, Aziraphale managed to roll Crowley into their new blanket.

“There you are! All wrapped up. You look rather like a burrito.” He mussed Crowley’s hair. “A very spicy burrito.” He leaned down and pretended to take several bites. “Vicious and Delicious.”

Crowley’s face peeked out from the edge of what was now, embarrassingly, his burrito wrap. “Of all the things I have been through in thousands of years, Aziraphale, this counts as one of the most humiliating.” But damn cozy, he thought.

“Nonsense, my dear, do you remember your moustache in the 70’s? I do.” He gave him a playful spank on the bum and kissed his forehead. “I must get started on my day. There's much to do. May I take the car? Just need a quick nip to the yarn store. Do you need anything? Can I make you breakfast?”

“Does anyone sell burritos at this early hour? Now you’ve got me craving them and it’s all I’m going to be able to think about.” He yawned. “I’ll get myself breakfast. You go on.”

“I shall be back in two shakes, darling, burritos in hand.” He kissed Crowley on the lips.

Crowley remained wrapped for a short while longer, until he could no longer hear the purr of the Bentley as she drove away from the cottage.

“He actually left me like this.” Crowley snort laughed.

Aziraphale pulled up to the kerb outside of the yarn shop. Crowley could sense the Bentley, so he needed to throw him off the trail. He dashed across the street to meet Alan outside the jewelry store door. He was just opening up, having arranged with Aziraphale to come in a half hour early to pick up his ring.

“I do thank you for opening early for me. I’m afraid I’ve got myself in a last minute rush today.” A miracle would ensure that Alan would find himself with an increase in sales in these last few days before the New Year.

“I’m very happy to be of service, Mr. Fell. I thoroughly enjoyed creating your ring. You’ve been a patient and kind customer.” He dipped into a small back room and returned carrying a box, which he opened to pull out a polished onyx ring box.

“Here we are. Please let me know your honest thoughts.” He opened the box to reveal the ring.

“Oh!” Aziraphale gasped. There, encased in a thick red satin, sat Aziraphale’s exact vision. Two black gold wings that would wrap around Crowley’s finger. The fine details of the feathers were intricately carved out and caught the light, making the metal sparkle with blues and silvers as if it were a polished jewel. The top edges of each wing were inlaid with tiny alternating black and white diamonds. “Oh! This is….how…how ever did you manage to do this? It’s perfect. I don’t know if I can make you understand how perfectly this captures my vision, the blend of myself and my fiancé.” Aziraphale continued with his effusive praise for the jeweler for quite a few minutes before taking the ring and leaving the shop with happy tears in his eyes.

He popped into the yarn shop, newly opened for the day, to buy more yarn to cover his tracks. Flora reminded him of a stitch and bitch being held later that evening, after dinnertime. Aziraphale seriously considered it.

After a stop to find the perfect burritos, Aziraphale returned home, ring hidden in his topcoat pocket. He shooed Crowley, who had been lounging in the freshly-made bed with his laptop, to the kitchen for his second breakfast. He hid the ring in his desk in the library.

Crowley snapped his laptop shut when Aziraphale entered the room. He had just been emailing with the jeweler, who had informed him that his ring was ready to be picked up. “That was fast,” Crowley had said to himself after replying that he’d be at the shop sooner than later.

As he finished his fourth burrito, he told Aziraphale he needed to pop out quickly. “Record store found a rare press of a Bowie album I had been looking for. I’ll be back quickly and then we can hit up the Christmas tree farm. Grab lunch while we're out?”

At the shop, Crowley paced nervously as Alan went into the back to grab his ring. The jeweler returned with a box. He opened it to reveal a mother-of-pearl ring box. The tiny hinges of the box squeaked as Alan opened it, revealing a gold ring nestled in a heavenly blue satin.

“Oh yes,” Crowley whispered, “this is exactly what I wanted.” He held up the ring. It was an ouroboros - a snake swallowing its tail. It was done in a delicate yellow gold, the scales and facial details intricately carved, making them catch the light, reflecting golds and oranges. The eyes of the snake were yellow sapphires. An inlaid ruby sparkled in the center of the snake's head at the top of the ring. Alternating black and white pave set diamonds trailed down the ring at either side.. “This is everything. This is perfect. Thank you.” With more shyly effusive praise for the jeweler, Crowley left the shop. He vowed to return with miracles once his were working again.

He dashed into an album store and found that there was, indeed, a rare press of one of his most favorite albums, Diamond Dogs by David Bowie. Excellent, he had his cover for his outing. He even stopped at a bakery on the way back and picked up a Bûche de Noël for dessert later that day.

He returned home, ring stuffed inside his blazer, and excitedly showed Aziraphale the album and shoved the Bûche de Noël at him. “Gotta pee!” He jogged to the bedroom. He hid the ring among his nail polish and makeup in a small chest of drawers in the bedroom.

Both Aziraphale and Crowley were feeling quite pleased with themselves. They grabbed their respective overcoats and headed to the Bentley, who had been part of two top secret missions this morning and was now prepared for an easy day of picking out Christmas trees.

They had agreed to get two trees - one for the sitting room and one for the parlour. Crowley had visions of trudging through a freezing cold farm field to cut a tree. Aziraphale would have loved that, but he didn't want to torture his darling pregnant demon. They perused the pre-cut selections and found two perfect trees. Almost miraculous. After Crowley expertly tied the trees to the roof, they loaded up on various types of greenery - from lush wreaths to pine, fir, and holly garland and several sprigs of mistletoe - until Aziraphale was satisfied that they had enough.

After lunch, they stopped at a Christmas market and browsed the various stalls of handmade crafts and art. They each bought a few more ornaments for themselves. Aziraphale went for classic Santa shapes and more German glass ornaments. Crowley was delighted to find Krampus and ducks. The grumbling in Crowley's stomach indicated a need for some snacks. Aziraphale excitedly pointed out a stall that sold crepes. They even had a Nutella and strawberry version for Crowley. Officially well - fed, Crowley had another snack in mind on the way home, pulling over in a quiet area and guiding Aziraphale out of the car and into the backseat. Cloaked by a miracle for privacy, Crowley filled his mouth with Aziraphale and then rode him to his own finish line.

Huffing into Aziraphale’s ear, Crowley said, “I am half tempted to leave my pants off and drive home that way. I don't think I can get back into them.” Aziraphale helped miracle them to a more comfortable state.

“Might need to consider proper maternity wear soon,” he grumbled. “Miracles are great, but maybe I should see what options exist out there.”

Once home, Aziraphale put a Christmas album on the gramophone, threw a miraculously defrosted roast into the oven where it would be perfectly ready much more quickly than usual, and threw himself into decorating without fuss.

All windows were filled with candles - L.E.D. of course - and framed with delicate white lights. Wreaths were hung on doors both inside and outside. Mistletoe appeared above several doorways inside the house. Garland framed every fireplace, every archway, every bookcase. There were candles and lights tastefully draped almost everywhere so that each room twinkled. Crowley’s Christmas ducks adorned the mantle above the bedroom fireplace and his flattened Santa was hung, with a heavy angelic sigh, on the side of the cottage. The cottage was officially awash in twinkling lights, greenery, dried fruits, candies, and all the trappings of Aziraphale's traditional English country Christmas.

Aziraphale was feeling inspired by the ambiance in the cottage, insisting that they dine by candlelight. Crowley ate through more than half the roast. Aziraphale had noticed the ferocity in which his appetite had picked up recently and the decrease in severity of any sickness, which was also beginning to skip days more often. He found each and every phase and symptom fascinating and miraculous.

A decision came to hold off on decorating the trees, save for lights and absolutely perfectly placed ribbons, until the next day. Newt and Anathema would be coming over very early in the day. Newt was to help Aziraphale prepare for their dinner on the following day, in which most of their friends would be in attendance. Crowley and Aziraphale both agreed that Newt and Anathema had started to become family and having them help with the tree trimming would be rather apt.

With Crowley thoroughly stuffed and needing time to make room for dessert, Aziraphale announced that he’d like to head over to the stitch ‘n’ bitch at the yarn store. Several kisses and suggestive promises for later in the night, Crowley saw Aziraphale off and sat back down at the dinner table with his laptop.

He had read a few more messages on the queer parenting Discord group in the last few days. There were more warm welcomes to his introduction, but he hadn’t felt brave enough to write anything else. He did emoji react to messages, which he thought was a big step. He had received several reminders today about their Zoom meeting, set to begin in about 15 minutes. Crowley could admit to himself that he was a bit eager to connect with other queer parents. Several who responded to him also identified as Genderfluid, which made him feel seen in a way he hadn’t realized he needed.

With a deep breath, he clicked on the Zoom link. Shit. He realized he needed to change his profile picture. Currently, it was him with his index and middle finger parted at his lips, his tongue stretched between them. He used the same profile pic he had in Discord - the selfie of himself and Aziraphale on the beach. He adjusted his name: Anthony (IneffableQueen)

“Oh fuck!” He jumped up and ran to the bedroom to grab his glasses. “That would have fucking sucked,” he said aloud to himself as he sat back down in the kitchen.

He rocked back and forth in this seat and shook his leg, nervous for it to start. He made sure his camera was off and blocked. He’d wait until he saw other people pop on. He ran his hand through his hair a few times and checked it in his phone. He tapped his fingers on the table rapidly. With his other hand, he palmed his bump, feeling soothed by the warmth of his skin under his waistband.

The screen began to change as the host began the session. One after another, tiny squares filled with people popped onto his screen. A few were like his - just pictures and names.

“Hello!” came a voice from the top left square. The name “Bex” was highlighted. “Welcome to our second to last Zoom meeting before the New Year! I’m excited to see a bunch of newbies here. If you feel comfortable switching to video that’s great. If not, that’s okay, too.

One of the black screens switched to a video. Crowley did his deep breaths and hovered his mouse over the little video icon. “Here goes nothing.” Click. There he was on screen. Exposed.

Aziraphale sat in the car outside of the yarn shop. He had his bag, stamped with “A.Z. Fell and Co.,” full of yarn and needles all ready to go. He admitted to himself that he felt a bit nervous, but would adore some new community connection. With a deep breath, he stepped out of the car and entered the store.

“Mr. Fell!” Flora called. She was standing at the sitting nook. A tray with tea, cups, and biscuits sat upon a small table. Several chairs were arranged in a semi-circle. Christmas music played over the store’s speakers. “I’m so glad you could make it! We’ve got a few more folks coming. Come, come. Have a seat.” She gestured to a cozy armchair, much like he was used to at home.

Any fears that Aziraphale had about fitting in were quickly allayed once others arrived and settled in. A group of nine, friendly chatter flowed with ease like the tea poured into their cups. They were easily drawn to Aziraphale and his comforting nature and welcoming smile. It took all of about about seven or eight minutes before one of the ladies, Bess, attempted matchmaking.

“You know, Mr. Fell, I have a sister about your age. Her name is Colleen and she is just darling. I bet you would adore her.”

Louise, a spunky woman with short silvery hair, sharp fashion, and delicate hands that were effortlessly casting on yarn to her needles made eye contact with Bess and shook her head. “You’ll forgive Bess, she is our resident matchmaker. I shouldn't assume, but I thought you were….um…”

“Gayer than a tree full of monkeys on nitrous oxide?” he offered with a smile.

They all laughed together.

“You’d be correct to assume, my dear. Besides.” He pulled out a yarn ball destined to be Crowley’s stocking. “I have just recently become engaged.” He smiled brightly.

The shop was immediately filled with excited chattering, peppered with “Congratulations” and many questions.

“His name is Anthony,” Aziraphale answered one of the questions. “We’ve known each other for a very, very long time. I don’t exactly remember life without him in it,” he said to coos and awwws.

“When is the big day?” asked Louise?

“We haven’t gotten to that yet. We’ve just only become engaged in the last week. In fact, I picked up his ring today and plan to give it to him over the holiday.” Aziraphale wasn’t sure when he would choose to surprise Crowley with the ring. “I am quite sure, however, that we’ll be married before Summer’s end.”

The group wasn’t just fascinated with Aziraphale’s demeanor and stories, they were blown away by his swift work with his needles. In no time at all, Aziraphale had finished Crowley’s stocking and began his own. With the exception of color - Crowley in a cabernet shade with a black cuff and Aziraphale’s in a delightful cream with a white cuff - both stockings were done the same with a simple cable pattern, save for the center. Aziraphale knit a raised Celtic knot motif to symbolize infinity. Eternity.

“You put us to shame, Mr. Fell,” Louise laughed.

Aziraphale flashed his sunshine smile. “Oh, I’ve just had many years of practice.”

“A thousand?” Flora asked?

“Close to it, dear.” Aziraphale chuckled.

The group continued chatting, sipping and spilling tea, and knitting. Aziraphale put his knitting away, opting to enjoy the biscuits and engage in conversation. The group felt like one giant warm hug. They had welcomed him with open arms, listened intently to his pointers, and treated him like he was just one of the gals, an old friend. Aziraphale was heartened. He felt a similar rush of euphoria that he experienced the night they went to Rocky Horror. He felt accepted.

He drove home with a big smile on his face, excited to tell Crowley all about “the ladies” and show him their stockings. He made a mental note to slow his knitting down even more next time so as not to raise suspicion. Though, who knows what they’d suspect - that he was a robot? He laughed to himself. His thoughts drifted to the ring hidden in his desk. He’d thought of giving it to Crowley on Christmas, but they tended to avoid exchanging gifts. It was an old agreement that worked for them. Sure, they were a couple now, but they didn’t have the need for things. They’d given each other the greatest gift of all.

Crowley did like the Solstice, though. He’d gone along with Aziraphale’s day of decorating and all of his Christmasy whims. Aziraphale wanted to acknowledge Crowley’s own following of seasonal rhythms. He decided he’d gift the ring tonight - a little Yule present for the creature who set the stars and their seasons in motion.

To Crowley, he looked like himself on the screen. However, he recognized the flashes in people’s eyes as they took him in. All part of his demon design, drawing them in and leaving them transfixed. Give him five minutes and he’d have most of them eating out of the palm of his hand, ready to engage in any mischief he commanded.

Not today. Crowley was just hoping to connect. “Hi,” he said quietly.

“Anthony!” Bex piped up. “So glad you’ve joined us.”

He recognized a few names from posts - Mars, Kat, Ronnie, obviously Bex. There was Brent, who posted earlier today about surrogacy and his partner Alan. Alan? Holy shit, he thought. It was his jeweler.

Bex led a round of introductions. “You can share your pronouns and identity if you’d like, but there is no pressure to do so.”

The group was widely varied in terms of where everyone was in their fertility and pregnancy journeys. For some, this was their first time. Others already had a few kids. And a few had yet to conceive or adopt. There were couples and singles and everyone stretched far over the queer spectrum. Quite some time was spent squeeing over Kat and Ronnie, who introduced their brand new baby, Samuel. Ronnie noted that she had some breastfeeding questions for later.

When it was Crowley’s turn his heart began to pound and his mouth felt dry. Please don’t ramble. Please don’t ramble.

“I’m Anthony. Obviously. I’m 11 weeks. Uh, I just got engaged and we just moved to the South Downs a few months ago. I used to be a midwife. I’m really into plants and gardening and astronomy. Oh, and my pronouns are usually he/him, but she or they work perfectly fine for me as well. I’m Genderfluid and as gay as I can possibly be.” There. That wasn’t so bad.

The other folks in the chat replied kindly to him. After introductions, they turned to various subjects. Crowley learned that Alan and his partner had a surrogate, who was nearly at her 3rd trimester. They had been through a lot on their journey, their first surrogacy ended in miscarriage. Alan was experiencing a lot of anxiety and he dealt with it by throwing himself into jewelry design. Crowley realized that is probably why he had his ring made so quickly.

For the most part, Crowley listened as each person spoke. It was Mars that made him speak up.

“I have just 2 months to go. My aunt tells me I need to rub my nipples with a washcloth to toughen them up, but that sounds so uncomfortable. She also said I’m being careless because I am having a homebirth. She’s American and her view on birth is very different.”

“Bollocks!” Crowley interjected. “Sorry. Just - leave your nipples alone. You don’t need to do anything to prepare them. If anything, rubbing them like that will make them ultra sensitive and then you’d be uncomfortable when nursing. And you’re not careless. I’m having a homebirth, too.”

Mars offered gratitude to Crowley for the advice and followed up with a question. “Did you attend homebirths as a midwife?”

“I’ve only ever attended homebirths. Never hospitals or centers.” He left out the part about doing it over thousands of years when hospitals and birth centers didn't exist.

Ronnie asked her breastfeeding questions. Her milk had recently come in, but she wasn’t pumping a lot and was worried about supply. “Anthony, what do you think?”

Pumps weren’t a thing for Crowley’s midwife days - they hand expressed. “Nothing is as efficient as your baby. You can have the milkiest tits - sorry - on the planet and not express anything. Sometimes, it’s the luck of the draw. If your baby is nursing well, pooping and peeing a lot during the day and gaining weight then you know your supply is most likely fine.”

The conversation ebbed and flowed from light-hearted - “this stretch mark looks like a penis” - to serious - “I don't want to be alone this holiday, but it isn't safe for me to go home.” Crowley felt a pang at that last one and wanted to reach out, but felt too new, too exposed and almost didn't speak up. He thought of Astra from St. James Park, where they shared a similar sentiment and how he and Aziraphale gave them hope.

“My original family is not safe, either. It’s just me and my fiancé and our small group of friends.” Something dawned on him. “They're more like our family now.” He took a deep breath. “My old family cast me out because I dared to question the status quo and I was…different than the lot of them. And it proved to be very, very dangerous for me. My fiancé has experienced something similar for himself. We’re only now learning what it's like to be free and safe.” Who was he?

“And you are happy now?” Mars asked, hope trailing through their question.

“I am. Very happy. Very secure. Very excited for our new baby.” He felt incredibly vulnerable. “We’ve managed to carve out a beautiful existence together and my being pregnant has changed our lives for the better.”

“That’s beautiful and so hopeful, Anthony,” Ronnie said. “I think you make a good point about found family. I think our group can be considered found family."

Aziraphale walked in the door to the sound of voices in the kitchen. “Must be on the hickory dickory dock application,” Aziraphale said to himself. He dropped his knitting bag off in the sitting room and headed into the kitchen, where he found Crowley in front of his laptop, chatting away about cravings.

Crowley waved him over. “I’m on a Zoom with the queer parents group,” he whispered. He beckoned him to come even closer and pulled him down for a quick kiss. "Hi."

“Oooh! Is that the fiancé?” came a voice from the laptop.

Crowley beamed. “That's him.”

Aziraphale stood off to the side, removing his topcoat and folding it over the back of the chair.

“Can we say hi? If he wants?” The same voice asked.

“Want to say hi, love?”

“Me? Oh..uh…of course.” He crouched down next to Crowley, who pointed at the camera so Aziraphale would know where to look. This is my fiancé…uh….” Shit…what name would they use?

“Azra. Nice to meet you all.” Aziraphale waved.

Crowley was a bit proud of the enthusiastic reactions of the group. He was his.

“I’ll leave you all to it. Have a lovely night.” Aziraphale stood up and planted another kiss on Crowley before walking off camera. “I’ll be back,” he whispered.

Crowley wrapped up with the group. Bex went over some upcoming meeting dates, both in-person and online before everyone said their goodbyes. He closed his laptop shut and rubbed his eyes. That was a lot of interaction with strangers, but he actually felt energized by it. The whole experience had been very affirming.

Aziraphale reappeared in the kitchen. He had just come from the library, where he nervously poked at the ring box in his desk.

“Seems we both had a rather social evening.”

“It was great. Yeah. How was your yarn stabbing group?” He put his feet up on the chair across from him.

“Oh, Crowley, they were just delightful! I’d love to tell you all about them. Care to join me outside by the fire? I rather thought we could enjoy the stars and that scrummy Bûche de Noël on this longest night.” He put the kettle on for hot chocolate. “May as well indulge,” he said as he wiggled his fingers and his shoulders.

“I was hoping you’d ask. ‘m just gonna change into my pyjamas first. I can't be in these trousers any longer.”

With warm blankets in hand. They met on the patio, where Aziraphale, also changed into pyjamas, had already started the fire.

“Oh! Let me get the cake and hot chocolate. I’ll be right back. You sit tight.” Aziraphale forgot the cake and hot chocolate on purpose so he could leave Crowley out there while he grabbed the ring from his desk.

Crowley looked up at the sky. Thanks to a moonless night, the sky was a glittering sea of stars and galaxies, the Milky Way easily visible above their heads. It was almost as beautiful as his angel, he thought. The ring in his drawer entered his mind. It’s Solstice, which means more to him than Christmas, honestly, and he was feeling all of the feels. This, he thought, this would be a perfect time to give him the ring.

Moments later, ring in his pyjama pocket, Aziraphale carried a tray with their dessert and set it on the small table next to the chaise on which Crowley was lounging.

“Be right back. Gotta pee.” Crowley hopped up and went inside. He didn’t have to pee. He opened the drawer in the dresser to find the ring. He hid it in his trouser pocket.

Back outside, Crowley asked Aziraphale for an oak log, wrapped in holly. Aziraphale miracled it up for him. Crowley threw the log and holly into the fire. “Hail to the Oak King and the Holly King. Battle it out in fire, boys.” The log blazed wildly and crackled in response. “Welcome back to the Sun and the light,” he whispered.

Aziraphale smiled softly. This was as spiritual as Crowley gets and it was only for a brief flash. He put his arm around the demon as he sat down, careful to keep the shape of the ring box cushioned in the folds of his blanket.

“You are the light, my darling.” He kissed him gently on the lips.

Over cake, they excitedly told one another about their respective group meetings earlier in the evening. Both took pleasure in the others’ new sense of connection with the community.

“I think I’m actually looking forward to going to a meeting in-person. With you, of course. I’m not going alone,” Crowley said. “They seem to get how I feel about a bunch of different things. Ngk. It’s…it’s nice.”

“I eagerly await such a gathering. You should stop by the yarn shop one time, too. Us gals were talking all about you today. They are quite enamoured with you just by what I’ve told them. I can't wait until they actually meet you.” Aziraphale got that warm feeling that happens when he thinks of the way people react when they see that Crowley is his. A small self-satisfied smile appeared on his face.

They were silent for a bit, cuddled together, taking in the gorgeous night sky. Crowley began to feel emotional. “I remember when all of this was revered. People set their days by everything in the sky. Even their bodies followed along. Our menstrual cycles even followed moon phases.”

“I do remember that.” His own cycles were never a minute late back when he chose to have them. Though, part of that was probably due to his personality, he mused.

“Even birth. I could tell you with alarming accuracy when people were going to go into labour based on the moon phases and the weather patterns. We were so connected to it all back then.” He sniffed. “Well, I still am. Never stopped. People, they just…”

Aziraphale listened quietly and rubbed spirals into Crowley’s shoulder blades with his thumb.

Crowley looked at him with tears in his eyes. “I’m still the Starmaker, yeah? That’s still who I am? Somewhere?”

Aziraphale felt a tightening around his heart. “You are. You always have been, my darling.” He held Crowley close to him. He didn’t have the words to take away that kind of pain. “You’re creating the most miraculous star of all,” he whispered. He could feel the hot tears of the demon against his neck.

Crowley wiped his eyes. “Fucking hormones,” he said, even though they both knew his hormones had nothing to do with it.

Aziraphale could feel the ring box poking at him from inside his pocket. Crowley was feeling a similar sensation in his own pocket. They sat up.

“I got you something,” they said in unison. Laughter peeled through the cold air, the vapor of their breath rising away from them.

“You go first,” Crowley said.

“After you, my dear,” Aziraphale insisted.

“No, no, no. Go on. You first.”

“Oh, alright.” Aziraphale took a very deep breath and poked his hand into his pocket. “I…uh…I wasn’t sure what to do. I…um...well, you see….and…uh, I know we don’t usually get each other gifts. And, uh, well, I don’t quite know the protocol and…uh, that doesn’t make sense. I guess I do know the protocol in the traditional sense and uh….”He could not figure out how to do a sentence in any known language, even that of the heavenly sort.

“Angel, I think you’re malfunctioning,” Crowley said light-heartedly. “I have an idea. We’ll close our eyes. I’ll count to three, we open our eyes, and we both show each other what we have.” He chuckled. “That sounded naughty.”

“I’m amenable.” Oh, thank God. Less pressure.

Crowley put his hand in his pocket. “Ok. Close your eyes.” He took a deep breath. “One…..Two….THREE!”

Two idiots, sat side by side under blankets, cross-legged, holding rings boxes in their hands, laughing.

“You know what they say about great minds,” Aziraphale laughed, trying to chase away the nerves that were still taking nibbles at his belly.

“We’re both rather clever. So…uh…whatchya got there?”

“Oh. This…uh….yes, let me show you.” He blew out a breath, closed his eyes for a moment and then looked into Crowley’s. “This.” He opened the onyx box. The ring shone brightly despite the night, seemingly reflecting the stars above them.

Crowley gasped and immediately began to cry. Fucking hormones. It wasn’t the hormones, Crowley. “Aziraphale….” He got a ring. For him. Aziraphale chose him. Even after all this time, that fact seemed surreal.

“The…uh…the wings - They represent both of us. I asked him to wrap them around that way to represent the fact that I will always be with you. I will always protect you. And I will always, always, always love you, Crowley. For every eternity. You’ve inspired me to be more free and helped me understand that I am good enough, even if I still need reminders. Your entire existence has been a guiding star to me, Crowley. I know you don’t often think of yourself in kind ways, but I hope you can see that you are indeed a miracle. You always have been. You are nurturing our child so beautifully and I find myself in constant awe of you. We have much happiness and excitement in front of us and I am overjoyed to marry you.” His face was flushed with nerves and excitement - contrasted by the stream of tears on his cheeks.

“May I?” He held up the ring.

“Yes,” Crowley answered along a small cry. “Please.” He held out his hand as Aziraphale slipped the ring onto his finger. He could feel a miracle pulse through him - another blessing from Aziraphale. “It’s so beautiful, Aziraphale. This means more than I can ever express.” He kissed him. “I love you.” Another kiss. Faces pressed to one another, their tears mixed together. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, my dear boy.”

“My turn.” Crowley wiped at his eyes with the edge of his blanket. He opened the ring box.

It was Aziraphale’s turn to gasp. The ring glowed like an ember in the firelight. “Oh, Crowley.”

“Now, we may need a miracle for size. I tried one when I had this designed and it was dubious at best.” He giggled and wiped at his eyes again. “He pulled the ring out the blue satin. This is an Orobouros. Obviously a snake because…well, me. And gold for you. This represents so much of our story. This is Eternity. It’s my protection of you. It’s my promise. This is creation - you were with me at Creation. You remember who I was - who I am…sometimes - even when I have tried so hard to forget.” He looked down at his belly. “You’ve given me this new tiny life, who I love more than any words can express - who we both love more than any words can express. This symbolizes fertility, for which I am so grateful to you and to my body. Finally, it is a symbol of destruction and rebirth. My fall. I thought it was the end of everything, but you helped me turn it into a beginning and…” his words choked on a sob. “I can’t wait to marry you, Aziraphale.”

With that, he slipped the ring onto Aziraphale’s finger. The fit was perfect. “It appears your dubious miracle worked, my dear.” Aziraphale kissed him deeply. “I love you, Crowley.” He stared at the ring on his finger - it was gorgeous. “This is so beautiful, my love. So, so beautiful.” He kissed him again. “I love you.”

“My phone…oh, I left it in the bedroom…”

“Here it is.” Aziraphale snapped and the phone appeared in his hand. “A selfie, I presume?”

Crowley took the phone and held it up. God, they looked beautiful together. “Let’s show these rings.”

They held up their rings, fingers overlapping, and smiled into the selfie. “Another one,” Crowley said. He went in for his usual move of kissing Aziraphale's cheek for the pic, but Aziraphale turned to meet his kiss. Click. Crowley set the phone on the cushion next to them as they continued kissing. Their lips and tongues became more intertwined as the passion easily heated up between them.

Crowley licked at Aziraphale's lips. He still tasted like cake and hot chocolate. “Mmmm. Make love to me out here, Angel.”

Aziraphale stretched him out onto the chaise and pulled down at his trousers. Within moments, they were connected together, hips grinding eagerly into one another.

Crowley felt his first climax burn through him and choked out a heaving sob at the sight of Aziraphale on top of him. His white hair glowed surrounded by the stars in the sky. Little pinpoints of starlight peeked through his curls as if he was wearing a celestial halo. He looked just like Heaven. “Angel…” He pulled him down for a tight embrace and even more desperate kiss than before.

Crowley flipped them over so he could ride him. It was Aziraphale's turn to cry at the vision before him. His Starmaker in ecstasy. His red hair blazed with a flaming halo from the firelight and was framed by his innumerable stars and the actual Milky Way. He couldn't look more like a divine being if he tried.

“Jesus God, Crowley,” he whispered. “You’re a Goddess.”

“Angel, you know blasphemy makes cum hard.” He bounced astride Aziraphale even quicker and stretched his neck to arch his head.

Aziraphale reached for Crowley’s phone on the cushion next to them and clicked on the camera icon.

“Kinky, Angel. Better hurry, I can't hold on for more than a second,” he said, out of breath and gripping his fingers into Aziraphale's chest hair. He slowed his bounce and stared into the camera with eyes that put the fire to shame as Aziraphale gasped at the sight on the screen. Crowley looked like a masterpiece.

Crowley moaned loudly, arching his back and grasping his own breasts as another orgasm took hold. Aziraphale kept pressing the capture button until his own climax roared through him and he threw the phone back onto the cushion, joining Crowley in his moans and burying his fingers in his hips. Crowley collapsed onto him to catch his breath while kissing along his cheeks.

“Nope, not fair.” He reached for his phone. “I need you to see what I see. Get on top of me again.”

They rolled over and Crowley directed him to sit up. Aziraphale was reluctant because he didn't want to sit in the wrong spot.

“You won't crush us, Angel. I always tell you that. Scooch back, if you'd like, and straddle my thighs.” Aziraphale did as he was told. “Good. Good. Now, lean forward, grab my tits for leverage,” he laughed. He took a picture of his Celestial King, surrounded by stars, with eyes that challenged the beauty of the heavens. Crowley forgot to breathe at the sight of him.

Aziraphale hissed sharply as he felt a hand on his cock.

“Can you bounce this fella back for me? You got pictures of me in quite a state, Angel. It’s only fair.” He worked his hand up and down the length, smiling as it responded. “Such a good Angel.” It didn't take much to bring Aziraphale to the peak and Crowley snapped more photos as the angel moaned and writhed on top of him, his breath creating a hazy halo around his head as he brought forth his orgasm. Thick, warm stripes coated Crowley’s belly and tits. Crowley nearly dropped his phone as a climax built and exploded low in his center.

“I think we’re even,” Aziraphale panted. They were both so flushed with heat that even the winter air felt too warm. He laid on top of Crowley for some long, slow kissing.

“Can we lay here a bit? Before we go in?” Crowley asked. “There’s one more show.” He repositioned them both on the chaise so they were angled toward another, looking up at the sky. “It’s the peak of the Ursids. I have it on good authority that they are going to peak….now…”

Crowley was elated as the first streaks across the sky began at his word. He tried to hide the tremble in his voice with some infodumping. “The Ursids. They got that name because they appear like they are originating from within Ursa Minor. The Little Bear.”

“A baby bear,” Aziraphale whispered, thinking of Winnie the Pooh.

Aziraphale and Crowley remained warmly snuggled in each other's arms under the blankets, naked and half stuck with nearly frozen angel seed. The sky put on a show with countless meteors streaking across.

They watched together in a gentle silence until Crowley’s body protested with unbeatable exhaustion and he began to doze. Careful prodding from Aziraphale woke him long enough to get up and carry their blankets in as the angel followed with the tray of empty plates and mugs. Aziraphale transferred the fire to the bedroom fireplace where it would safely burn out.

In bed, Crowley opened his arms in invitation and pulled Aziraphale to his chest. “Let yourself rest, love, please.” Crowley ran his fingers through Aziraphale's hair and hummed some ancient winter song until the angel gave in and let himself fall asleep. Tired as he was, Crowley stayed awake just a while more to enjoy the relaxed snores of his lover safely nestled against his chest.

Chapter Text

Despite staying awake so late into the night, Crowley was up just before dawn. He pulled his pyjamas back on and wrapped himself in one of Aziraphale's winter dressing gowns made of soft, heavy flannel. He leaned over the bed and kissed his angel awake.

“Want to watch the sunrise?” he asked Aziraphale, who rubbed sleep from his eyes.

“You’re certainly refreshed for someone who was up until blue o’clock in the morning,” Aziraphale said as he joined Crowley on the bench under their apple trees.

“Oh, I’m exhausted, Angel. I’m just giddy with excitement,” he said, stretching his fingers out and looking at his ring.

Aziraphale took his hand and kissed it. “As am I, my dear.” He curled into Crowley, who took Aziraphale’s hand and placed it on his belly.

“Your belly feels different from just a few days ago.”

Crowley smiled. “I feel different from just a few days ago. In many different ways.”

“How so?” Aziraphale was thinking in terms of pregnancy symptoms.

“When you left the house on ‘Bump Day,’ I had a bit of a moment with myself.” Crowley smirked. “Not that kind of moment.” He rubbed the back of the angel’s hand. “I was admiring the way my body is changing. In the mirror. And I thought of how much I love it. I love the baby. I love you.”

The butterflies that reside in Aziraphale's stomach woke up and started to flutter. Was he going to say it? This was something Aziraphale hoped that Crowley could experience.

“And myself. Somehow, I love myself. Terrifying, really.” He chuckled.

The light cracked the horizon. Tears immediately welled up in Aziraphale's eyes. He longed to hear Crowley say something like this for literal ages. If anyone in this Universe deserved it, it was Crowley.

“Oh, Crowley…”

Crowley looked at him. “There is so much of you in that love, Aziraphale. So much of you. From your encouragement and faith in me. Holding on when I couldn't.” He pointed at his belly. “You did this to me.” He pointed at his heart. “You did this to me, too.”

That broke Aziraphale and he let out a sob. “Oh, I….I have no words. I’m so happy for you.” He hugged him tightly. “I’m over the moon with happiness.”

The sun began to break over the horizon, filling the low edge of the sky with warm orange light. The frost on the rolling hills reflected its light. Sparse Winter birdsong filled the air to greet the day, while the remaining stars in the sky began their retreat. The air was brisk and smelled like snow, even though the sky was free of clouds.

“So beautiful,” Aziraphale said of the sunrise.

“I’d be ashamed if I were the sun, frankly.”

“What? Why? It’s one of your stars.”

“I know that. Just - it has a lot of nerve showing up here when this gorgeous bounty of sunshine is right next to me.” He held Aziraphale’s face in his hand. “Yeah, that was corny as fuck, but it’s true.” He laughed and gave him a quick kiss on the nose.

Aziraphale blushed. “I rather like that compliment.” He leaned in to let his lips melt into Crowley's. They missed the rest of the sunrise.

“Shall I make us breakfast? Any special requests from you and the baby?” Aziraphale asked when the make out session came to a close.

“Some sort of eggs. I feel like I need a fuckton of protein.”

“Oh, I believe I have several ways to get a fuckton of protein in you.” He blushed into an attempted smirk.

Crowley laughed. “She’s a filthy angel. My favorite kind.”

Aziraphale slapped his thighs.“Eggs it shall be.” He stood up and offered a hand to Crowley.

“Think I’ll sit out just a bit longer. I’ll be in soon.”

Aziraphale leaned in for another kiss. “Off I go then,” he said as he walked away. He turned on his heel and jogged back. “I can’t believe I forgot this.” He leaned down once more and kissed several of Crowley's freckles. "There. Right as rain.” He was off once more.

Crowley watched him off. His dressing gown was fluttering behind him, his poof of white hair glowing in the sunlight. Stunner, he thought.

He took several deep breaths and felt his belly. It was already just a teeny bit bigger than it was on ‘Bump Day,” which caused a toothy smile to grow on his face. The last few days were so busy and full of emotion and excitement. It was a good distraction from his nerves, but he felt them slowly reignite. His next ultrasound was coming up in just a few days. He so looked forward to seeing the baby and how they have grown. He just couldn't shake the nervous energy that mirrored the way he felt prior to his 8 week ultrasound. He knew things would be okay, but it seemed the anxiety wanted to poke at him anyway.

More deep breaths with closed eyes brought him to the center of himself. He connected deeply with his body, drawing his awareness down, down, down until he connected with the sweet little glow he carried.

“Hello, my little star,” he whispered. They felt stronger, their energy buzzing almost excitedly. Crowley caught his breath at what was now a familiar feeling - his own essence mixed with Aziraphale. Again, he could feel Aziraphale's love pulsing so strongly here. His body felt warm and safe. The tears freezing on his cheeks were barely even acknowledged by the nerves in his skin.

“I love you so, so much. We are so happy you are here with us.” His throat ached the way it usually does right before he cries. “Thank you for choosing me.” He felt a pulse of energy in return. “Thank you.”

The cold shock of a tear hitting his hand snapped him out of the the moment. He wiped his face and took a few more deep breaths of the frigid air before heading inside.

“Sunny side up! I thought that was rather appropriate,” Aziraphale beamed as he placed a full plate in front of Crowley, who practically inhaled his breakfast.

“My word. Seconds?” Aziraphale felt rather accomplished when he could properly feed and nourish his demon.

“What do we do when Anathema and Newt get here?” Crowley asked between bites of his third serving of breakfast. “I mean, do we tell them we’re engaged or do we make them wait to hear it with everyone else tomorrow?” He refilled his orange juice glass and pouted when the container was emptied.

“Oh…I hadn't thought of that,” he said, looking down at the carton of eggs. Crowley had 6. So far. That was in addition to sausage, fruit, and toast on the side. “I suppose we should tell them when they arrive. We have gotten rather close to them. Thoughts?”

“Agreed. Plus, they'd notice the rings. Speaking of noticing the rings…can I do your nails? You picked out that pretty green for us. Very Christmasy.” Crowley wanted to do something for Aziraphale, but was feeling so stuffed and wasn't sure he could get up from the table. A little nail session would be just the thing while he digested his breakfast.

“I’d rather like that.” Azira-I don't get tired-phale felt he could use a small break, especially since he and Newt would be non-stop in the kitchen today and tomorrow.

Anathema and Newt arrived later in the morning. Their arms were loaded with bags. Newt brought along some groceries for tomorrow's dinner as well as sparkling cider and non-alcoholic wine. It wasn't for Crowley’s benefit. They were supporting Sgt. Shadwell’s continued sobriety. Newt also held out a bag with cutesy baby ducks and alphabet blocks on it.

“Just a small present. More of a joke, really. You'll see why in a moment,” he squeaked.

“I had nothing to do with this,” Anathema laughed.

“Thank you. Let's go get your bags down,” Crowley said, walking them to the kitchen. He reached into the gift bag and pulled out a Tardis piggy bank.

“Well, this isn't a joke. It’s sensible.” Crowley said, looking the police box over.

“Oh, right,” Newt said, “that was to break any tension for the second gift in there,” he laughed nervously.

Crowley reached in the bag again and cracked up as he removed tissue paper from the second gift. “This is good, I’ll give you that. Can't believe someone actually makes these.” He held up a large, die-cast Reliant Robin and laughed again. “You did good, kid.”

“He pushed the toy along the kitchen floor. “Look at that. It runs better than yours.” Crowley cracked up once more.

“This will get top billing on a shelf as soon as we start working on the nursery.” He was proud of Newt in a way. “Thank you.”

He looked at Aziraphale and raised his eyebrows.

It took Aziraphale a moment. “Oh! Oh! Crowley and I have news!” He held up his hand to show his ring. “We’re engaged!”

The kitchen was filled with the happy sounds of gushing congratulations. Hugs were shared between the four of them. Aziraphale and Crowley beamed at one another as Anathema and Newt fussed over them.

Newt and Aziraphale quickly began discussing culinary things so Crowley went out to the car with Anathema to help her bring in their overnight bags. He plopped down on the guest bed and moaned.

“I hate clothes. I never thought I would say it, but I officially hate clothes. Trousers especially. “ He drummed his fingers on his belly.

Anathema lounged next to him, propped up on her elbow. “Have you thought about maternity clothes, yet?”

Crowley grimaced. “Ngk. Dunno. Maybe. Aziraphale has been miracling things for me, but something isn't quite right. Bit early for maternity clothes, don't you think? That, and where does someone who looks like me get them? And in my style?” He had a vision of himself with a large belly in an oversized, ill-fitting pepto pink floral dress. It was nauseating.

“There's no timeline. I have some parents who start wearing maternity pants by 6 or 7 weeks when their bloating gets so bad. Everyone is different. Plus, you have this adorable little bump getting in the way and -” her hand hovered near it.

“You can touch it. Doesn't just have to be for exams.”

Anathema gently rested her hand on his bump. “Awwww. You popped a little more since your appointment the other day.” Her heart fluttered.

“Feels like it. I’ve been very hungry. Not as a sick anymore.”

“Your waist is a little different overall, too.” She hoped that wasn't too forward. Even in joggers, she could see his waistband was squeezing him.

It wasn't too forward. “You think so?” Crowley hoped he didn't sound too eager. He liked the idea that those changes were noticeable.

“I do. Oooh, there's a great shop in Brighton. Some of my patients travel there just to get their clothes. They have alternative styles and they are very queer friendly. I think you would like it. And I think once you get into a comfy pair of trousers, your world will change.” She laughed.

“Want to go? The boys are going to be annoying in the kitchen today anyway.”

“Yes!!” Anathema was excited to be part of this little clothing adventure for Crowley.

Crowley announced to Aziraphale and Newt that they'd be heading out. With a kiss, he told Aziraphale to be good and assured him that he would definitely eat while they were out.

On the car ride to the shops, Crowley excitedly told Anathema all about the proposal, shopping for the ring, and their respective Queer Parenting and stitch 'n' bitch groups.

Anathema hooked her arm into Crowley's elbow as they browsed the shops. They stopped in their new favorite skin care and cosmetic spot, picking out a variety of makeup and pampering goodies. Crowley, sudden hair care expert, convinced Anathema to try a new line of hair products. “They're even orgasmic, like my vitamins.”

Over lunch, Crowley showed Anathema the photos from Astra, some of his bump pics, and their various selfies from the previous weeks.

“You know, you two don't have any photos of yourselves in the house. You should print some of these and frame them.”

“Aziraphale would love that.” Aziraphale would be absolutely tickled.

They searched online for a nearby quick print. Once found, Crowley selected his photos, mindlessly checking off their selfies, the Rocky Horror pic, engagement photos, the ‘Bump Day’ pic, and all of the pics from the Solstice last night, when they exchanged rings.

“Right. These will be ready in just an hour,” he said, showing her the confirmation email. He took a sip of his tea. Not long after, they were back to strolling through the shops.

Crowley stopped dead on the pavement and slapped his hand over his mouth. “No. Oh no. No, no, no, no, no, no. Anathema!”

Anathema pushed down her panic and braced Crowley's back. She couldn't quite read his face. “Crowley are you okay?” She was in nurse mode, ready for a medical emergency.

“The photos. The photos, Anathema.” He felt sweat building up on his back.

“Yeah, we still have about a half hour to wait.”

“Oh. I think we should go now and see if they can be stopped. I didn't pay attention and I just hit “select all” on the album from when we exchanged rings last night.” He laughed and looked at the sky before rubbing his eyes and turning bright red. “Anathema, there are photos of us -” he lowered his voice, realizing they were in the middle of the pavement with holiday shoppers walking by “- having sex.”

Anathema clapped her hands over her mouth to cover a smile. Her eyes widened. “Crowley!”

“It was Aziraphale's idea!” He grabbed her hand and began walking in the direction of the print shop. “You think he is this prim and proper gentleman - and he is, mind - but he is quite the adventurous perv in bed.” He laughed.

They burst through the doors of the shop as if they were superheroes on a rescue mission. The quick print service was within a camera shop, staffed by a genteel woman who was humming along to classical Christmas music that played over the speaker.

“Good afternoon! How may I be of service?”

Oh she seemed very proper, Crowley thought. He unbuttoned his coat and unfurled his scarf, suddenly boiling hot. “Hi. I, um, just sent a quick print order through about 30 or 40 minutes ago and-”

She held up her hand, “I can't make things go any faster. It’s the holiday and many people are sending family photos.” She gave a soft smile to an obviously frazzled man. “I’m so sorry. I can check where you are in the queue?”

“Oh, uh….well I didn't need a rush. I…this is so embarrassing, but -”

She put a hand up again and walked to the printer. “You accidentally sent a naughty photo?”

Oh no. Crowley felt faint. “You saw them already?”

“Oh, no. No, nothing of the sort. It happens at least twice a week. I don't actually look at photos much at all unless there is a technical issue with the machine. Otherwise, it groups them altogether for me.” She tapped at the computer screen. “Your name, luv.”

“Anthony Crowley.” Relief washed over him.

“Ah! Yours are printing now. Come here, come here.” She waved him over and handed him an envelope. “I’ll let you take them out of the machine so you can be extra sure I don't see them. The system automatically deletes your photos after a time, but we can click here,” she said, pointing to the screen, “and delete them all once printed.”

“Oh thank you so much.” He went through the photos, blushing, once they all came out and clicked to delete them permanently.

“Thank you. Truly.” Feeling relieved, he bought several rolls of film for Aziraphale's camera as well as frames for his photos - the non-spicy ones. He added this shop and the clerk to the list of folks who he’d send a miracle for once his worked again.

The cold air was refreshing as they walked outside of the shop. They gripped one another as they howled in laughter. Crowley leaned up against a wall to catch his breath. Anathema wiped tears from her eyes.

“Never a dull moment with you two, Crowley.”

“I need to get a better look at these.” Crowley thumbed through, showing Anathema the prints of the safe photos. He shyly peeked at the naughty ones. “Oh, these are actually hot. Good thinking, Aziraphale.” He laughed. “How did I manage to do that?”

“Pregnancy brain. It’s a real thing.”

“That and I didn't get much sleep last night because, well…” he held up the envelope of photos.

The maternity shop was their next destination. Crowley hesitated once they got to the door. He suddenly felt very self conscious.

“I don't look like a lot of pregnant people. And I don't look pregnant enough.” He said nervously.

“You're a pregnant person, so, yeah, you do look like one. And there is no such thing as ‘pregnant enough.’ Besides, look at that.” She pointed to decals on the window. There was a Pride flag next to a Trans flag with the words “You Are Safe Here” curved around them.

Crowley took a deep breath. “In we go then.”

The store was bigger on the inside. It was mostly maternity clothing, but there was a small area with baby clothes, nursing tops and bras, and breast pumps. Mannequins modeled different styles of clothing with different body types, gender presentations as well as different bump sizes. He even noticed one with a bump quite like his own and felt much better about this store.

Anathema had been right, the clothes were much better than he expected. No outdated monstrosities here. He even noticed plenty of black. Scanning the racks and the store, his eye was drawn to one particular mannequin and he gasped. Leather trousers. Well, vegan leather, but they looked damn authentic. And for a preggo?

“Need,” he said and pointed at the mannequin.

“Oh, definitely,” Anathema agreed. “Let’s get you started.”

A clerk came up just then. “Can I help you find anything in particular?”

“Ngk.”

“We’re browsing. It’s his first time.” She hoped it was okay to speak for him. “He definitely needs some trousers that won't hurt him. Oh, where are those leather trousers on the rack?”

“Those are over there,” the clerk pointed. “Welcome to our shop, by the way. I’m Jaime. Let me know if I can help you find anything. Follow me.” She lead them to a large dressing room. “This will be your dressing room. Either you or I can hang things up here while you shop. Saves your arms.” She laughed. “And, since you are new,” she reached for several rounded pillows on the bench in the dressing room, “these are bump pillows. You just strap them around your waist like so,” she demonstrated with one of them, “and it gives you an idea of how something will look and fit when you're further along. I see you’ve got a cute little bump already. You’re going to feel much better in these clothes, trust me.”

Crowley smiled at her acknowledgement of his belly. Other people outside of Aziraphale and their friends were noticing. He was more than a little excited.

He and Anathema browsed the racks. The first thing he grabbed were the leather pants. The clerk hung them in the dressing room. He found several pairs of skinny black jeans, which were sent to the room. Some pants had large elastic panels. Others, like the leather pants and some skinny jeans, had what looked like a regular waist, but were secretly very elastic.

His next set of mega heart eyes went to a long, black velvet maxi skirt with a very high slit. He grabbed several other maxi skirts - more black, but also jewel toned options. Most of these were a practical jersey and Crowley thought they be excellent for all seasons.

An assortment of tops was next on the agenda. From drapey Dolman styles to button downs and tight knits, he happily found plenty. His favorite was a silky crop - yes, a maternity crop top - in a teal with a scattering of delicate metallic stars and a deep V-neck. The blue with stars reminded him of Fell the Marvelous’ cape.

He eyed a rack of lacey bralettes. “How do I know my size?” he whispered to Anathema.

“Well, these bralettes don't go by standard cup sizing.” She held one up to him, but he shyly hunched over.

The clerk noticed. “I can measure around your ribcage or you can just get a few and return what doesn't fit. I’ve been doing this for two decades and I am 99% sure this is your size,” she held a black one up.”

Crowley shyly took it and crossed his arms over his chest. This was a new feeling of self-consciousness for him.

“Right. I’m going to try everything on. Except the bras. I’ll just hope for the best.” He picked bralettes in several colors and fabrics.

Crowley half hated, half loved trying things on. He felt very exposed, but that was soothed once he got his first pick - the leather trousers - over his waist. They fit him like a glove. Ahhh, the comfort. He felt unrestricted and, quite importantly, he looked like himself. The cut of the waistband highlighted his tiny bump, which made him smile. He turned and looked at his bum. Sexy. Looking sexy, he thought. Aziraphale would likely lose his mind.

“Do you feel comfortable showing me anything?” Anathema called. She lounged on a cushioned bench outside the dressing room.

Crowley cracked open the door and peeked out. “Come here,” he whispered. He opened the door once she came closer, practically pulling her into the dressing room with him. He felt shy about any other shoppers seeing him.

“You look like…YOU! These are great, Crowley.”

Crowley went through several pairs of trousers. He liked most, but decided that the ones with a larger maternity panel were not for him at this stage. They felt like too much fabric over his torso as he didn't have much to fill them out. The skinny jeans with the regular waistbands were perfect, though.

He fell in love with every maxi skirt, but most especially the velvet one. “Check this one out,” he said to Anathema from the door.”

“This is hot Crowley.” You’ll probably only have it on for 2 minutes once Aziraphale sees you.” She giggled. “Try it with a top. Here, this one.” She pointed at the teal crop.

Crowley opened the door a moment later to show her the full outfit. Anathema’s jaw dropped. Yes, Crowley was attractive. Yes, he had great style. Yes, he looked good in anything he wore. Some outfits, though, just hit different. The skirt seemed like it was made for him. The slit went all the way to the top of his thigh, showing off one very long shapely leg. It draped on his slinky hips perfectly. His belly button peered out from the gap between the waistband of the skirt and the hem of the shirt. As for the shirt, it was a gorgeous color on him, especially with his hair. It was yet another piece of clothing that seemed made just for him. The V neck was deep and made a show of his new small curves.

“Crowley, if you weren't already pregnant, you definitely would be once Aziraphale got his hands on you in this.” She laughed.

Crowley blushed. “I’m going to wear this to the Whickber Street Traders holiday thingie.”

“Will that Mr. Brown guy be there?”

“Oh yes.” Crowley gave a wicked smile. “Oh yes, he will.” He winked at Anathema. He turned a few times to admire his reflection. Damn, he was hot. He felt a certain euphoria as he studied himself in the mirror.

“Try one of those bump pillows.” Anathema helped him Velcro it around his waist and adjust the skirt.

“Awwww. You look so cute.”

Demons aren't cute, but Crowley was loving the image in the mirror. He couldn't wait for a big belly to be his reality.

They stared at his reflection in silence for another minute, both seeming to understand how real all of this was. Crowley would eventually look like that.

Anathema noticed his chin quiver slightly. She pulled him in for a little side hug, which he returned.

“Right,” he clapped and removed the bump pillow, “let’s head to the till." The sight of himself with a larger belly had caused an upwelling of feelings, but he didn't want to get too emotional in the store so he swallowed it all down.

He brought a fairly large selection up to the till. He sandwiched the bras and matching thongs - he found them after his try on - between the rest of the clothes. Anathema noticed and thought his shyness was adorable.

Crowley was quite pleased to find the Bentley waiting close to the store. With his miracles being so shoddy, he was unsure if the Bentley would be able to move for him. Aziraphale had been taking care of that for him lately.

“That's my good girl,” he patted her as he opened the boot to load their bags.

The conversation on the ride home turned to a very frank discussion about sex after they had erupted in another laugh about his picture fiasco. Anathema shared a few things about her and Newt’s sex life and Crowley gave advice “as someone who has experienced sex with all the bits.” He couldn't quite identify the small part of him that felt happy about this conversation…not in a pervy way, but in a “I have a friend who is not my fiancé who feels comfortable enough to discuss vulnerable things with me and vice versa” way. It felt good.

Crowley told Anathema, “Before I got pregnant, we were at it constantly. I didn't think it was possible to have more sex than we did then. Lately, though, I can't get enough. And when we have sex….it’s just orgasm city for me. I’ve literally popped one off just from him breathing on me.”

“For some people, pregnancy really enhances the libido. You're rounding out your first trimester and feeling less sick. That, coupled with hormones….yeah, it can rock your world,” she laughed.

“Thank someone we’re immortal because poor Aziraphale would have certainly died by now. I don't think there is any human that can withstand these last few weeks.” He laughed. “Can't help it. He just keeps looking like himself. Aziraphale in clothes? I’m horny. Aziraphale naked? I’m horny. Aziraphale just in socks and garters? I’m horny. Aziraphale in pyjamas? I’m horny. Aziraphale breathes? I'm horny. Aziraphale simply exists? I'm horny. Literally can't get enough of the poor angel. Surprised he's not dried up like a shriveled little angelic raisin by now.”

Anathema cracked up. “Somehow, I doubt he minds. It gives me a different view of our favorite proper gentleman, though.”

“Oh, he’s a lusty bugger. Biggest surprise to me when we first started having sex, which he initiated, mind. He was so shy at first. Very reserved, you know? That was very short-lived. He’s….well, he’s a lot different than one would suspect. Been amazing to witness really.”

“He initiated?” Anathema reminded herself that assumptions were faulty and she should do better. Yet, she still was a little shocked to hear such things about that sweet gentle angel who had used terms like "sexual congress" at their first appointment.

“Yep. I know what you're thinking. Big sexy demon temptress right here. If it had been up to me to make the first move, it would have taken me a whole ‘nother year to get up the nerve. Needless to say, I am very, very grateful for my very, very depraved and horny angel.”

“I am so happy you guys are able to enjoy a nice sex life again. I know that was bothering you for a while, even though you two had figured different ways to make it work.”

“It’s been very nice. Very, very nice. I still have a lot that I need to work through and that can get annoying, but we obviously do alright for ourselves.” He chuckled.

“As I’ve said, you can always talk to me about it. Or, I can recommend a therapist.”

“Right. Right. I do think I need to talk about some of this more explicitly and maybe seek therapy. I don't think I'm healing it on my own - haven't for thousands of years.”

“Give yourself credit, Crowley. You’ve done a lot of very difficult work on your own and with Aziraphale. Even just these past few months, I have seen such a huge change in you. As your friend, I’m so proud of you. And, as your friend, I can tell you that a little extra help is not a weakness at all.”

She looked at his hands on the steering wheel and focused on the way his ring sparkled in the daylight. “It’s like your prenatal care. You’re a midwife and you’ve had a hell of a lot more experience and knowledge than me and, yet, you're coming to me for advice and for care and-” her words choked off as she realized the enormity of what she was saying. She could feel tears quickly building.

Crowley noticed and gave her shoulder a squeeze and then took her hand - a move that made her squeak out a little cry.

“Thank you for trusting me with your care,” she said quietly.

Crowley spoke softly. “I couldn't imagine going through this without you. You are an invaluable support for myself and Aziraphale.” He sighed. “I’m not good at this with people. Y’know, feelings and whatnot. Just - you're a remarkable midwife. And friend. A remarkable friend. Newt, too.” He had so much more to pour out, but couldn't find the words.

Anathema wiped her eyes. She, too, had much to say, but the overwhelm of emotion kept her voice stuck in her throat.

Instead, they squeezed their hands together as Crowley turned down the winding road leading to their cottage.

“Geez, Crowley,” Anathema wiped her eyes again as he opened her door and took her by the hand. “You’ve had me belly laughing and ugly crying today.”

“I try my best,” he laughed.

“My word! Did you buy half of Brighton?” Aziraphale appeared in the hallway as Anathema and Crowley removed their shoes by the front door.

“I’ve got clothes that fit!” Crowley victoriously held up his bags. “The house smells delicious.” He dropped the bags off in the bedroom and hurried to the kitchen.

The kitchen table and counters were loaded with plates and racks of an assortment of Christmas biscuits.

“Newt and I have been plenty busy baking and prepping ourselves for tomorrow. Now, these biscuits are for our guests. I’m sending everyone home with a tin.”

He picked up a plate that contained several of each variety. “Crowley, these are your biscuits.” He pointed to the other racks and plates. “These are not Crowley’s biscuits.” He raised his eyebrows. “Crowley's biscuits. Santa is watching.” He handed him the plate.

“Think I have plethy of seth cmtrl, Anthel,” he said, biting into a biscuit.

“That’s ‘plenty of self control, Angel,” for those not up to snuff on Crowley mumbles.”

Crowley wrinkled his nose at Aziraphale and sauntered out of the kitchen with his plate of biscuits held high. He sat down in the guest room with Anathema so they could work together on framing the pics for Aziraphale.

Crowley shyly went through all of the pictures, holding them close to his chest, while Anathema undid the backs from each frame. Embarrassed as he was about the photo fiasco, he was in love with the erotic ones from Solstice. They were stunning and he couldn't wait to show Aziraphale.

Photos successfully framed, they wrapped them into a gift bag and moved on to wrapping a few things Anathema picked up for Newt and family. It was enough to finally push Crowley over the edge of exhaustion and in need of a nap.

He poked his head into the kitchen. "Aziraphale, can you meet me in the bedroom? Gonna nap, but need your help with something first."

"I shall return quickie," Aziraphale told Newt. "Oh dear." He squeezed his eyes shut and blushed. "I will return quick-LY."

Newt snorted and continued to neatly pack biscuits into tins.

In the bedroom, Aziraphale found Crowley face down on the bed. "Before you know it, you won't be able to sleep like that any longer."

"Can't wait," Crowley said, pushing himself to a sitting position. He slipped off the bed and walked over to Aziraphale, draping his arms onto his shoulders and giving him a long, tight hug.

Aziraphale relaxed into it, leaning his head on the demon's shoulder and snaking his arms around his back. Crowley's embrace felt so comfortable, so warm.

Crowley nuzzled his head. "You smell like a bakery," he chuckled softly. "I love it.” He tightened his hold on the angel. They remained like that for more than a few minutes. Crowley eventually tipped Aziraphale's chin up for a long lasting kiss.

Aziraphale nuzzled their noses together when he broke from the kiss and looked up into his eyes. “I love you very much,” he said.

“Love you, Angel.” He pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“What did you need me for?” He reached up and walked his fingers through waves of red hair.

“Just this. I needed my sunshine. And you needed to take a break for a minute.” He pulled him towards the bed. “Lay with me for a few minutes. That's an order.” He winked.

Aziraphale obeyed, curling into Crowley's arms as they lay together. They didn't talk. They simply rested, eyes on one another, taking moments to caress hair and cheeks and jawbones, lips occasionally touching.

Crowley was right, Aziraphale did need this moment to just simply rest. He brought a hand down to Crowley's belly and felt the unmistakable glow of life there. Their sunshine. Crowley wrapped their fingers together over his belly. Their eyes conveyed everything about that moment to one another without a word.

As Crowley began to lose his battle with exhaustion, Aziraphale unwound himself and sat up. “Newt and I will get takeaway. Anything you’d like in particular?"

“I’m open to anything,” Crowley mumbled. “Keys are on the nightstand.”

Aziraphale stood before leaning back down for a gentle kiss. “Thank you for ordering me to relax, darling. I certainly needed it.” Another kiss to Crowley's lips and one to the baby bump before Aziraphale slipped out of the room and back into the kitchen to summon Newt.

In town, Aziraphale stopped in a frame shop before he and Newt went to pick up their takeaway. Aziraphale chose an elegant dark gray wooden frame with wavy edges that reminded him of a serpent and cream matting. He planned to frame his drawing of Crowley and give it to him for Christmas.

On the way to the restaurant, a red glimmer caught Aziraphale's eye from a shop window. “Oh! Oh that’s quite lovely.”

Two snake heads held an O-ring on a collar adorning a scantily-clad mannequin in a window. The collar was made to look like a double-headed snake and was made of a blackened metal with garnets for the snake eyes. “Oh, we’d adore this,” Aziraphale said as he placed his hand on the door to open it.

“Mr. Fell!” Newt’s voice cracked and he pushed up his glasses. “That shop. Well, that's a…that's….adults…um…”

“Yes, my dear fellow, I am quite familiar with this type of shop. I do live in Soho and Crowley and I are adults.” He smiled warmly. “You don't need to go in. You can wait here if you’d like. I won't be but a moment.”

Newt couldn't decide if it was more awkward to go in or to wait outside. He opted to go in.

Inside the store, Aziraphale flagged the shopkeeper and asked about the collar. Newt almost knocked over a display of strap-on harnesses. Amused, Aziraphale watched him nervously try to right the display, his hands not knowing where to touch.

The transaction was quick and easy and they were out of the store before Newt could knock another…

Newt accidentally elbowed a shelf of flavored lube and tried his best to casually put them back in order.

“Ah…the strawberry one is rather delightful, if I don't say so myself,” Aziraphale chuckled. Crowley would be proud.

A flushed Newt joined him on the pavement outside. “Shall we get dinner and head home?”

Newt nodded enthusiastically. He had so many questions for Aziraphale now, but didn't want to be improper. He thought back to times when he saw Crowley wearing leather collars with similar rings. He always thought it was just a goth fashion statement.

“I’m sure you have questions, Newt. In my line of work, I know that one can't judge a book by its cover.” Aziraphale smiled up at him. “Crowley and I have an abundance of different proclivities. We keep one another on our toes.” He wiggled his shoulders. Deep down inside, the angel admitted that there was something strangely titillating about the fact that there was much more to the gentleman Aziraphale than meets the eye.

“Now, time to pick up our supper and head home. There is a real danger that Crowley could have stolen some of those Christmas biscuits.”

Aziraphale woke a protesting demon up when they returned. The four of them discussed all things Christmas and babies over dinner. With a snap, Aziraphale cleared the kitchen in order to give himself and Newt a break. They had other things to enjoy.

“Crowley and I have been just a touch busy and obviously have not decorated our trees. We were hoping the two of you would like to help us.”

Anathema and Newt enthusiastically agreed. Newt made a suggestion. “We should string popcorn. I used to do that when I was a kid. It could be practice for when your little one is older.”

Crowley groaned.

“That is an excellent suggestion, my dear Newt. Now, the best is with day old popcorn, so -”

“Oh dear, we don't have any. Shame.” Crowley interrupted.

“So,” Aziraphale eyed Crowley and snapped. Several large bowls of day old popcorn appeared. “Oh, how nice. Now, Newt, if you would be so kind, there are fresh kernels for popping in the pantry. Would you please get those on the stove so we can have popcorn to eat as well? I’ll set up everything in the sitting room.”

Bowls of popcorn, both for stringing and eating - including “Crowley’s bowl” - sat atop the coffee table along with needles and waxed cotton. Aziraphale placed a Christmas record on the gramophone. The two couples sat around the table and began their project of making popcorn garland. The conversation was light and festive and even Crowley couldn't deny some holiday cheeriness.

As they were nearly finished with the garland, they each held their respective strands up. Between Aziraphale, Newt, and Anathema, there was enough to go around both trees, which proved to be fortunate as all eyes fell on Crowley. Sitting cross legged on the floor in ducky socks (with Santa hats) and cozy clothes, one Christmas demon held two bowls in his lap. There was Crowley's popcorn bowl for eating. There was Crowley's popcorn bowl for garland. Both empty.

"Crowley, let's see your garland."

"Can't. Most of the popcorn fell off and I think I am too tired to restring it. Pregnant." He pointed to his belly. "So exhausted. Also, I poked myself with a needle." He pouted and held up his sad garland with about 10 inches of popcorn strung upon it.

"Crowley," Aziraphale said in a low voice, "where is the popcorn that fell off your string?"

Crowley made a show of looking on the floor. "Somewhere here. I just saw it."

"It was a lot of popcorn, Crowley. Surely, you can't lose that much."

Anathema and Newt leaned into one another shaking with laughter.

"Crowley, did the popcorn fall off into your mouth?"

"No?" He pursed his lips.

"Crowley?"

"Pregnant?" He smiled.

Aziraphale sighed and shook his head. He winked at Crowley. "Well! We have enough. Let's get these trees decorated, shall we?"

Soon the tree in the sitting room was adorned with ornaments, popcorn, and the ribbons and lights Crowley and Aziraphale had already added the other day. Crowley tied his sad little garland into a circle - a popcorn wreath to hang on the tree.

Aziraphale told stories of where he had gotten most of his ornaments and the ways in which Christmas changed over the years. Crowley listened quietly, sometimes adding his own experiences, and hung decorations with mathematical precision, making sure that each ornament was equidistant to those surrounding it. He somewhat envied the other three, who seemingly just added them willy nilly.

"What do you have to put on top of the tree?" Newt asked as he shuffled through an ornament box.

"Oh," Aziraphale looked around. "We don't have…" he looked at Crowley. He snapped his fingers and a glowing angel with strawberry blonde hair holding a star appeared on the tree. "Oh, now isn't that lovely?" He didn’t realize he consciously chose strawberry blonde.

Crowley smiled. And then immediately grimaced. "Oh fuck." He jogged out of the room and into the bedroom. The sound of his retching echoed into the sitting room.

Anathema pouted.

"Poor guy…uh...angel…demon…person," Newt said. "Might be the popcorn."

Aziraphale hurried after him.

"Never eating popcorn again," Crowley rasped as he gagged into the toilet again. His face was red and streaked with tears. Popcorn did not come up nicely. "Holy shit! That's string. Oops." He heaved again.

Aziraphale rubbed his back and tucked his hair behind his ear. He miracled a glass of water and set it down on the sink. "My poor darling." He didn't even know what to say about the string. "My poor, poor, silly demon."

"Guess the 'morning' sickness isn't ready to give up just yet." Crowley squeezes toothpaste onto a toothbrush.

"You've had longer periods of relief lately. I'm sorry it caught up to you tonight."

Crowley spit into the sink. "The string probably didn't help." He splashed water on his face.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale felt panic rise in his chest. “Where is the needle you were using for the popcorn?”

“I put it in the little pin cushion thingie you had on the coffee table. Why?”

“Ah. No matter. Very well,” Aziraphale said, relieved.

They re-joined Anathema and Newt, now in the parlour.

"How are you feeling, Crowley?" Anathema asked.

"Much better."

"Thankfully, we won't need a vet visit." Aziraphale gave a sideways glance to his string-eating demon.

"We were just admiring how beautifully you two have decorated this whole house. It's so cozy." Anathema said.

"Thank you, my dear girl. We worked together to make it look tip top. Now, how about the four of us get this tree gussied up?"

They made quick work of the tree. Crowley happily hung his Krampus and duck ornaments he found at the Christmas market. Aziraphale was just thrilled.

Aziraphale indicated that he would miracle another angel for this tree top. Crowley stopped him. "Let me try something." He reached with his impossibly long arms and tapped a finger to the tippy top of the tree. "Let there be light," he whispered. An orb of light blazed and glowed before calming slightly. An actual star, though small and at a safe temperature, sat atop their tree. "That'll hold until after Christmas." Crowley beamed, proud that he was able to make that happen, though he needed to sit down on an armchair.

"Are you alright?" The three said in unison to Crowley, with Anathema kneeling in front of him, holding his wrist and Aziraphale protectively flanking his back.

"I'm okay. I'm okay. Just a little dizzy for a moment there. Can't do miracles that well while knocked up. When I try, I just get a little winded." He shakily accepted a glass of water from Aziraphale.

They sat together and admired their work on the tree. "We truly appreciate that the two of you have been so kind and generous with your time." Aziraphale said.

"It's no bother at all. We enjoy visiting. I especially enjoy the culinary practice," Newt replied.

"I love the non-clinical time with you two. We make a great group."

"That we do, my dear." He rested his hand on Crowley's shoulder. Crowley put his hand over his. "Crowley and I are grateful to have you both in our lives. It's been a pleasure getting to know you better and 'hanging out' as the younger ones are known to say."

Crowley chuckled softly. "We like you enough to let you stay here and even bang in our house," he said, making sure to keep it light because he knew he was suddenly going to say something mushy. He couldn't stop it. "It's like I said in the car to Anathema - we couldn't imagine going through this without you. You…you're both…well, you're exactly like family to us…you are family." Crowley was surprised he said it. It was true, but, gah, that was so mushy.

"Here he goes, making me cry again." Anathema said, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her jumper. She had already felt so close to them, but hearing it come from Crowley's mouth was simply wonderful.

Newt also swiped at his eyes. His family at home was tiny. Just him and his parents, really. He never felt fully accepted anywhere in his life until he met Anathema and those involved in Armageddidn't. Aziraphale and cranky Crowley had been so kind and so accepting, especially in the last year and he finally felt fully welcomed and unafraid. His interactions with Crowley had also been nice. Working with him in the garden, letting go of his snake fears, and experiencing pregnant Crowley opened his eyes and let him into a whole new world.

"We feel the same about you two. You've been very lovely to us," Newt said.

All eyes in the room glistened, speckled with reflections of Christmas lights. The only sounds were the fire crackling and Christmas crooning coming from the gramophone.

Crowley felt warm and fuzzy…and slightly uncomfortable. He loved everyone in this room, but he had been vulnerable and mushy a lot today and he needed to crack at it a bit and be Crowley.

"Right. That's sorted. We all love each other." Dammit. That wasn't what he was going for. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Bloody hormones got me all soft."

Aziraphale was euphoric over his demon's professions. "Hormones. Of course, darling. Crowley speaks for both of us. We've come to regard you both as a very well-loved part of our family." He, too, wiped at his eyes.

Crowley blinked his tears back. "Well, this demon is very tired and," he gave a wicked smile, "I need to fuck my soon-to-be wife, so it's off to bed and debauchery we go." He stood up and took Aziraphale's hand.

Aziraphale let out an exasperated sigh. "Crowley….Right, then. Tomorrow is a big day with much to do and celebrate. Let us retire to bed for whatever activities that will transpire and be sure to get a good rest after." There. Gentlemanly with a hint of naughtiness. He balled his fists in the air and smiled.

Fires and lights were extinguished and wishes for good sleep were exchanged before all departed to their respective rooms.

“Santa is watching!” Crowley cackled down the hall.

Chapter Text

"Really, Crowley, must you?" Aziraphale asked, closing the door.

Crowley had already removed his top. "What? We all had a nice moment. Didn't do anything?"

"Indeed," Aziraphale said as he carefully removed his shoes.

"Come here, let me look at you," Crowley said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed.

The room was lit in the soft glow of several L.E.D. candles that Crowley had placed there earlier after a run to the bathroom. Aziraphale stood in front of him. His waistcoat and bowtie had been removed and carefully folded away much earlier in the day when he and Newt started their baking and prep. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows and his braces were hanging off his waistband. The top three or four of his buttons were undone so a tiny patch of curly silver hair poked out along with the collar of his undershirt. His face was dusted with a platinum five o'clock shadow. A look that made Crowley feral - not that any version of Aziraphale wouldn’t make him feral.

"You're just so beautiful," Crowley whispered. He stood up and cupped the angel's face in his hands, lightly pressing their lips together. "Every part of you, in every plane that we exist in, is perfect. I can't believe that you're mine and that I get to grow part of you within me." He kissed him again, this time a little more heavily.

"Oh Crowley…" Crowley caught the words in his own mouth. Aziraphale held onto the delicate hands that worked his shirt buttons open, continuing to kiss his lover as he shimmied his shirt all the way off. "You two are my entire universe, Crowley. My Heaven."

Crowley pulled him onto the bed, where they each carefully finished undressing one another. Crowley rolled Aziraphale onto his back and began to gently kiss him, snaking his fingers through his curls. Tiny kisses made their way down his chest to his belly, where Crowley laid his head while Aziraphale played with his hair. Crowley relaxed into the warm softness.

“This is one of my favorite places in the world,” he said, delivering feather-light touches to the angel’s skin and sinking into the sensation of the belly's rise and fall. Moments later, he returned to his tiny kisses, making his way back to his chest and letting his tongue circle the rosy eagerness of an erect nipple.

Aziraphale sucked air between his teeth. Heat was rising deep below and he felt his cock begin to twitch. He caressed his hand up and down Crowley’s back while his love worked his mouth on his chest.

Crowley left the delicate pink nipples and trailed his tongue down past his belly to the thick thatch of bright white curls and the stiffening length they surrounded. He enveloped the entire semi-firm length in his mouth and didn’t move. He let it harden and come to life inside his mouth, widening to accommodate its growing size. He worked his lips, tongue, and throat to bring Aziraphale to the edge, the angel gasping and heaving his chest, fingers tightly knitted into Crowley’s hair.

Crowley popped off and moved back to Aziraphale’s lips to share the taste of the pre-cum he had licked up.

“Delicious, isn’t it?” Crowley hissed.

“Quite,” Aziraphale answered. “Now, let me taste you.”

Crowley rose to his knees and did something he hadn’t done before with this effort. He moved up and straddled Aziraphale’s face, hovering his dripping folds right over his mouth. He gripped the headboard and lowered himself onto Aziraphale's waiting lips. He wasn't entirely sure of what to do or how to move, but he was going to do his best to figure it out. Thankfully, Aziraphale seemed eager to learn with him as he felt the angel's tongue begin it's work.

Aziraphale fought the urge to come right there. There was something thrilling about having his face straddled like that, the weight of his lover over him, the slight struggle to breathe, the view. He buried his fingers in the flesh and muscle of Crowley’s ass. His tongue parted the slippery lips, exploring them before circling his clit.

Crowley moaned quietly, careful not to be heard by guests. He slowly rocked his hips, riding Aziraphale’s hard-working mouth. Overtaken by pleasure and feeling incredibly safe, he asked for something new.

“Fuck me with your tongue,” he begged.

Aziraphale hesitated for a moment. He couldn’t look into Crowley’s eyes very well at this angle. He let out a questioning noise, his mouth still firmly working the slick folds. Up until now, Crowley only accepted a cock inside any opening.

“I’m sure, Aziraphale, please. Fuck me with your tongue.” He was tired of being fragile about certain acts. And he was tightly coiled and ready to be sprung. He ground his hips down, hoping to convey the seriousness of his request. “Fuck.Me.With.Your.Tongue.Slut,” he commanded.

Aziraphale’s cock twitched eagerly. He delivered a broad lick to Crowley’s slit before obeying orders. He gently swirled the tip around the hole, holding tightly to Crowley’s ass as the demon writhed on his face. He unfurled it up into the soaked opening, feeling the quivering tightness surrounding it.

Crowley gripped the headboard and cried out at the sensation of that hot, wet tongue burying itself within him. Holy fuck, he had been missing out. His tight coil sprang forth and he undulated his hips feverishly as the orgasm moved through him. “Don’t fucking stop. Don’t fucking stop,” he cried quietly.

Aziraphale swirled his tongue inside as Crowley ground down onto him. His nose was buried in the wet red curls, pressing up close to the demon’s clit. Crowley’s wetness streamed down Aziraphale’s chin as his tongue moved in and out and around in circles within his hole. A second orgasm rocked Crowley and he could hear the demon’s attempts at stifling cries begin to fail.

“More,” commanded the greedy demon, grinding his pussy down onto the angel’s mouth even harder.

Aziraphale, unable to breathe at this point, felt his pre-cum pooling onto his belly as he alternated between giving attention to Crowley’s clit and delivering long, languid licks to his entire cunt before plunging his tongue deep into his hole, thrusting and swirling, once again. Within minutes, he could hear Crowley grip the headboard tightly as the demon’s muscles clenched and his entire pussy quivered with the next climax. More wetness trickled down Aziraphale's chin onto his neck and to the pillow.

Crowley felt like the meteors they watched last night were coursing through his body. His head, back, and chest were sweaty and he let go of the headboard to grip the hands at his ass while he arched back and cried out a bit too loudly with the pleasure that shook him. He didn’t care about being quiet anymore.

Panting and heaving, he dismounted from Aziraphale’s face and repositioned himself over his legs, smiling as the angel gasped for air. He noticed the precum on Aziraphale’s belly and licked it, taking his tongue all the way up to his chest and to the messy wetness that covered his chin and neck. Crowley lapped up the taste of his own tangy sweetness before hungrily kissing Aziraphale’s delicious swollen lips, mixing their flavours together. He ground his pussy on Aziraphale’s thigh and rode it to yet another climactic height, moaning into the angel’s mouth.

Aziraphale wrapped his arms tightly around Crowley and slowed their kissing to check in with him.

"Do you need anything before we continue?" he asked.

"Just you inside me," Crowley whispered, rolling onto his back.

Aziraphale rolled on top of him. "Love you," he said softly and pressed his lips to Crowley's sweaty forehead. He settled between Crowley's thighs, which were spread wide. He kissed him slowly for a long while, noting that Crowley was still slightly out of breath.

Crowley wrapped his legs around the angel's back. "I love you," he answered back, dancing his fingertips along the back of Aziraphale's neck. He kept his eyes focused on the angel's, breathing deeply as the thick length of him slowly pushed into his cunt. "Fuck, Aziraphale, you feel so…" he ended with a long moan. Aziraphale had immediately hit that sweet spot inside and tickly little jolts of pleasure jogged up his spine. He poked his chin into the angel's shoulder and dug his emerald green nails into his back.

Aziraphale moved slowly, relishing the feel of Crowley's rhythmic clenching around his cock. He kissed a forehead and lashes and softly sucked an earlobe, bringing small cries out of his love. Their bodies were a gently rolling wave, rocking together with their breaths. Aziraphale moaned loudly into Crowley's neck as the demon dug his nails into him even harder. He loved the feel of his skin being scratched raw by his demon and imagined the deep red stripes he'd see in the mirror the next day. He sucked a mark onto his neck, just high enough to where it wouldn't be hidden by a shirt collar.

Crowley hissed. "Fair is fair," he said, returning the favor to Aziraphale's neck.

"I love being marked by you," Aziraphale growled. He continued his slow thrusting, matching it with slow kisses to Crowley's lips. "I'm going to roll us over, hold on tight."

Crowley tightened his grip with his legs and arms as they rolled, glad that they remained connected. He sat up and continued the slow rhythm with his own riding, cupping his chest with his hands.

Aziraphale sat upright and, with some maneuvering of limbs that resulted in him slipping out, they ended up in lotus position.

Crowley loved the lotus position. It always proved to be full of spectacular sensations and emotional connection. He lined himself up with the head of Aziraphale's cock and guided him back in with a low moan.

They didn't fuck hard in this position. Often, they'd combine it with Tantric breathing, though many times they'd just use it when they wanted to go very slow. It always hit the right spots for them, no matter the physical configuration.

They gently rocked their hips together, locked in a tight embrace. They kissed slowly, tongues brushing up against one another. Eyes remained opened and, though not using any specific techniques, they shared their breaths.

They both felt the heat at their centers rise and their breaths quickened. Crowley kept himself locked in the deep blue eyes in front of him, desperately trying to hold off his next orgasm. He wanted to remain in the moment, holding the gaze of his fiancé and matching their breathing. It made him feel so connected to Aziraphale. His heart felt all fluttery and his emotions began to bubble and - ngk - the tears began.

"Oh my darling," Aziraphale whispered into his ear, holding him closer. "I love you."

"I love you, too," Crowley whimpered. He didn't know why he was crying. Probably damn hormones, right?

They kissed deeply, rocking and breathing together for an unknown amount of time, lost in the sensations and eyes of one another.

Eventually, the simmering fires within them grew and spread. Aziraphale kissed all along the long neck that stretched in front of him as Crowley lost himself in the moment. Aziraphale was just as lost.

They became unaware of the sounds of their lovemaking as they continued to sway with one another. Their climaxes came from deep within this time, pounding through muscles and lighting up their skin. Faces pressed together, taking in one another’s breath, swallowing the other’s loud cries.

They remained in a hug for some time until Aziraphale softened, slipped out, and laid his demon down, kissing over his face and neck. He found Crowley’s breasts with his tongue, delivering attention to both of them before moving down to the demon’s opening, where he licked up his own spend that was dribbling out.

A final orgasm had Crowley crying the angel’s name as he pulled at his hair, his muscles shaking throughout his well-served body.

Aziraphale came back up for air and kisses, carefully leading Crowley through his come down from all that pleasure.

“How are you feeling, darling?” He asked between soft kisses to Crowley's eyelids.

Crowley opened his mouth, but couldn't answer. He was still panting, still shaking, but very much into the kisses delivered by Aziraphale. He pressed their lips together again. “I love you so much, Aziraphale,” he said softly. He threaded his fingers through his hair and gently massaged his scalp.

Aziraphale felt the trembling in Crowley's fingers. “I think it’s time for some snake resuscitation snacks.” He hopped out of bed and, thankfully, thought to put on boxers and his dressing gown, just in case their guests were up.

It was a good plan. Aziraphale surprised Newt, who stood in front of an open refrigerator in the kitchen. He was in pajama pants, no glasses, and his hair had clearly been through some things.

“Oh, uh, I am, um, just kinda hungry after decorating and um…,” Newt sputtered, becoming redder with each syllable.

Aziraphale smiled softly, though he puffed his chest. He felt some sort of pride knowing it was obvious what he’d been up to with Crowley. Aziraphale was aware this his own hair also looked like it had been through some things. His skin was still rosy from activity.

“Don't be embarrassed, my good man. Things go bump in the night in this house. We both know we’re each here for post-coital refreshments,” he said casually while pouring orange juice into a glass.

Newt squeaked and clutched mandarins in his hand.

“Ah, good choice. Revives the virility.” Aziraphale laughed. He carefully placed some vanilla Christmas biscuits onto a plate along with three mandarins, some cheddar slices, a small chocolate Santa and strawberries. Oooh and a scone for good measure.

Newt eyed the plate.

“He works up a voracious appetite.” He patted him on the shoulder. “Have a good sleep, dear fellow. See you in the morning.”

“G-goodnight,” Newt said quietly.

Aziraphale placed the tray next to Crowley. “I trust this will refresh you, my dear.”

“Mmm. Thathou, Thirathfl.” Crowley said after he bit the head off of the chocolate Santa.

“Thank you, Aziraphale,” the angel laughed. “I marvel that I become more fluent as time goes on.”

They laughed and chatted while sharing the snacks. Crowley initially didn't think he needed all that the angel had brought, but he surprised himself. He never would have made it to breakfast without this pick-me-up.

Refreshed and sated, they lay belly to belly. Aziraphale walked his fingers down Crowley’s chest. “These are slightly fuller.” He smiled with delight.

He was right. They were, Crowley thought. Not much bigger, but more dense. He thought of the bralettes he had bought and how he might fill them.

“My books say baby is the size of a fig right now. Oh, I do love figs. And…and they are developing hair follicles and finger nails and their facial features!" He shared excitedly. "Your breasts will begin the process of developing colostrum over the next few weeks, which I guess accounts for the fullness of these beauties," he said, cupping the curves.

Crowley smiled softly at his angel. He loved listening to Aziraphale's weekly baby and pregnancy lessons. The excitement and the wonder in the angel's voice and eyes filled him with so much happiness. Just don't tell anyone.

He caressed his belly. Aziraphale's hand followed. "Facial features. Huh," Crowley said. "I wonder who they are taking after."

"Hopefully, this beauty in front of me," Aziraphale said with a kiss to the cheek.

"Well," Crowley booped Aziraphale's nose, "I hope for this beauty in front of me." He sighed wistfully, which Crowleys don't usually do. "I can only imagine having two of you running around. The universe's most beautiful creature, cloned."

Aziraphale swallowed. "I imagine we'll see a good blend of both our features."

"I can never see a face when I have a vision. Only the hair. The hair is the same each time." He squeezed Aziraphale's hand at his belly. "Nice work on the treetop angel, Angel." He smiled.

"Honestly, I don't think that was a conscious decision. It just happened." He sent a blessing into the bump and its inhabitant below his palm. "My visions are the same. The face remains hidden, but the hair is always the same halo of strawberry blonde."

They spoke dreamily of their baby, hands cupped over the bump, until they both fell into sleep.

Crowley was up two hours before sunrise, already hungry. He stayed curled up next to his half-awake angel. He smiled at the thought of having spent weeks worth of mornings crouched over the toilet and now his past days have seen much less sickness and much more hunger. It was bittersweet, he thought. He was rounding out his first trimester, nearly a third of the way through his pregnancy. He was excited about what lies ahead, but also a bit melancholy over how quickly things change.

Aziraphale’s sleepy morning kisses began. “Up before the sun, my dear?”

Crowley stole some kisses for himself. “Shall we head to the kitchen? I’ll put the kettle on.”

They covered up in their dressing gowns and shuffled to the kitchen. Crowley put the kettle on, while Aziraphale pulled a bowl of eggs from the refrigerator.

“I took the liberty of hard-boiling a dozen eggs yesterday. I figured it would be best to have them available for you to nosh on when needed. Plus, they are an excellent source of protein to counter balance all the biscuits I’m sure you’ll work your way through today.”

“Fairly certain I had a significant source of protein last night,” Crowley said, handing Aziraphale’s tea to him.

Half a dozen hard-boiled eggs and a pound of berries later, Crowley stood up from the table to pour himself more tea. Aziraphale followed him to the counter to top off his own cup. It was quiet and dark, save for the Christmas lights Crowley had switched on when he first walked in.

“You know,” Crowley put his arm on Aziraphale’s shoulder, “we both walked under that mistletoe when we came into the kitchen,” he said, jutting his chin toward the little bundle hanging from the room’s archway.

“That we did, my dear. How foolish.” He put his hands around Crowley’s waist and effortlessly lifted him up onto the counter. He stood between Crowley’s legs and reached up to kiss him.

Crowley put his mug down and took Aziraphale’s from his hand and leaned down to melt into him, putting his other arm around his shoulder and pulling him closer. He was feeling all sorts of mushy this morning and just wanted to spend the day cuddling and making out with his lover, but he knew his time was very limited this morning as he’d soon be fussing about with Newt in the kitchen. Guests would be pouring in during the afternoon. He’d have to savor his quiet Aziraphale time now.

“Come take a bath with me,” Crowley whispered while planting kisses on Aziraphale’s ear.

Aziraphale’s breath shuddered. “There’s so much to do.”

“I told you the other day that you will relax. I’m not asking for feedback. Take a bath with me. Relax.” His tongue found it’s way into Aziraphale’s mouth.

“Well, when you ask like that…” Aziraphale lifted him off the counter.

Aziraphale could feel the small, soft cushion of Crowley’s chest and the tiny firmness of the bump as he leaned all the way back into him among the rosy bubbles in the tub. He was glad he listened to Crowley.

“Remember,” Crowley began, pouring a dollop of pepperminty shampoo into his hand, “these are our dear friends who are coming. You’ve done our house up so beautifully and you and Newt will make the most delicious dinner and desserts. You don’t have to be perfect. No one will fault you if a tea towel is wrinkled or a drop of gravy hits the table runner.” He lathered and scrubbed Aziraphale’s hair. “Can you promise me that you won’t be hard on yourself today?” He kissed the back of his neck and sneezed at the shampoo bubbles that tickled his nose.

Aziraphale laughed. “I will try my best, my dear.” He scrunched his face up as Crowley rinsed his hair.

Crowley smoothed conditioner through Aziraphale’s hair before they switched places with much splashing and laughing.

They stood naked and freshly shaved in the bedroom as Crowley excitedly showed Aziraphale his new maternity clothes, which the Angel loved, especially the skirt with the high slit and the new variety of undergarments. With a miracle, all of the clothing found itself in a freshly laundered and folded state.

Aziraphale pointed out that Crowley’s chest and lower belly contained a new map of delicate blue veins under his skin, noting that it was a sign of the large increase in blood volume that occurs in pregnancy.

Crowley was, of course, happy to see that. More proof that his body was doing exactly as it was meant to do in order to support and nourish their baby. He dressed in his new maternity jeans, black and tight and so fucking comfortable, and a Christmas green jumper. A smile grew on his face when he realized his little bump was evident under the thick jumper.

After breakfast, Newt declared the kitchen, “a demon and witch free zone,” and herded them out. The bustle and fuss had begun.

Crowley and Anathema walked into his plant room, where a large dinner table had appeared in the middle. It was big enough to accommodate all of their guests. When he and Aziraphale had first bought the house, they knocked out the useless wall between the library and the dining room. It had been a later addition to the house and interrupted the flow. They had done it to expand the library space and fit Crowley’s desk and throne in there. Their plan was to use the plant room on any occasions that may call for a large amount of dinner seating. While most of their furniture was brought in from the Mayfair flat, bookshop, or bought new, the formal dinner table would be something they’d miracle as needed.

Crowley had compromised the day before and let Aziraphale add some tiny twinkling lights to the shelves and even to some of his larger plants “for atmosphere.” Christmas candles and a smattering of greenery had also been snuck into the room’s decor.

He and Anathema unfurled the Christmas tartan table runner and began setting the table with fancy placemats, expertly folded cloth napkins - Crowley taught her his techniques - holiday plates and glassware. Anathema remarked that Crowley was a “regular Martha Stewart,” but he reminded her that he had centuries of practice with “some of the most pretentious assholes you’d ever meet.” Charmed. Aziraphale had made a fine centerpiece - a hurricane glass candle surrounded by a sumptuous wreath he’d whipped up from some of their greenery with small poinsettia blooms and sugared fruits tucked in. Smaller candles in red, green, and clear votives were scattered atop the table. Everything glittered and twinkled and the tablescape looked like it could be in an interior design book.

“Something is missing,” Crowley mused. He stood with a hip cocked out, arms crossed, as he surveyed the table. “Ah! Right!” He disappeared into the hallway and returned carrying his two Christmas ducks from Tesco, which he placed on either side of Aziraphale’s professionally crafted centerpiece.

Anathema held back a laugh at the sight of this perfectly adorned English cottage Christmas table with two slightly tacky ducks now taking up center stage.

“I learned from pretentious assholes, but I don’t want to be one,” he said, patting each duck on the head.

The rest of the morning and early afternoon was spent helping Aziraphale and Newt when asked, straightening up around the cottage, and getting ready.

Crowley plunked himself down on the guest bed while Anathema got changed into a long dark green on darker green tartan skirt - “for Aziraphale” - with a lacey cream blouse.

“Don’t you look smashing?” Crowley said. “Can I - can I braid your hair?” he asked shyly. It had been ages since he braided or played with anyone’s hair other than his own or Aziraphale’s and Anathema’s long chestnut brown locks were calling out to him.

“I’d love that.” Anathema said, relieved because she hadn’t wanted to fuss with her hair. She handed Crowley her brush and her ponytail holders and sat in an armchair in front of the small mirror on the chest of drawers. Soon, Crowley’s expert fingers were parting and sectioning her hair. She thought he was going to do a simple French braid, but he left half of her hair down, weaving a thick French braid down the center and creating smaller braids from the sides and threading them through the larger braid.

“There. Simple. Elegant. And something I did 600 years ago.” He ran to his room and brought back a hand mirror so she could see the back.

“Crowley, this is so gorgeous! Thank you. I may just have you come over everyday and do my hair.”

“Anytime,” he smiled. He was very proud of his handiwork, though it was actually very simple and easy for him to do. He could do much more detailed styles, but he didn’t want to overwhelm her.

She finished getting ready, while he hung upside down off the bed, watching her apply makeup. When she expressed frustration about eyeliner and never being able to do a proper wing, Crowley jumped up and ran back to his room, returning with eyeliner.

“This is brand new, never used. Goes on so easy and smooth and dries quick.” He handed her the liner. “I could…help. I’m good at wings.”

“Of course,” she said. When Anathema was a young teen, she had wished for a big sister or friends she could do this sort of thing with. They never really came - she was “too weird” and “too intellectual” for many of her peers. These moments with Crowley were healing that younger part of her.

Ever himself, Crowley said, “Sorry my tits are in your face,” as he leaned over her. He explained what he was doing, pausing to let her look in the mirror, and teaching her the best way to create a wing with her eye shape and how her technique would change if she used pencil vs liquid vs the different types of applicators. He did her mascara, too.

“A red lip would be killer, if you ask me. Burgundy. Oooh. Be right back.” He came back in with a small glittery black make-up pouch and handed her a lipstick.

“You should do a little liner, too.” she suggested as color was swiped over her lips.

Crowley poked through his bag for another liner and his mascara. He didn’t go as bold as he had done on Anathema, but it was just enough for a little pop. He caught her stunned expression in the mirror when she noticed how his eyes looked with the makeup and he smiled. She’d flip someday when he went all out, he thought.

Crowley was deep in feels at the moment. There was raucous laughter coming from the kitchen, where his angel was clearly enjoying himself. He and Anathema were bonding and he got to use his lesser-known skills. He was feeling euphoric with just that tiny amount of makeup. A little squee echoed inside of him - it would remain inside and no one would ever know about it if they knew what was good for them.

They checked on the chefs in the kitchen and helped them by setting up charcuterie trays and plates of cookies and tiny tea cakes in the sitting room along with tea and coffee that would miraculously remain at the perfect temperature all day and night.

Guests were to arrive shortly and Aziraphale pulled Crowley into the bedroom to freshen up. “You look very pretty, my dear boy,” he said once he noticed the mascara and liner. Crowley in make-up made his dick twitch, but there was no time for that. He settled for a long hug and brief make-out session before changing into a jumper of Crowley’s choosing - a deep teal cable knit with a mock turtleneck that didn't hide his hickey.

“Maybe not a commercial Christmas color, but it brings out your eyes in a way that reminds me of the sky the night He was actually born.” He kissed that perfect nose.

Crowley also gently encouraged him to wear different trousers - gray - and Chelsea boots. Aziraphale admitted that he liked to change things up now and then.

Before long, the doorbell rang and guests began to arrive. The first were Maggie and Nina.

“Don’t you look very pretty?”, Nina said to Crowley as he took her coat. “And look at that color on you, Mr. Fell! Wow!!"

“Oh my God, this house is stunning!” Maggie exclaimed, “And we’re barely past the front door!”

Aziraphale introduced them to Newt and Anathema, who led them to the sitting room.

Sergeant Shadwell and Madame Tracy were immediately behind them.

“Oh, look at these two handsome boys! Happy Christmas, luvs.” Madame Tracy burst in and immediately began patting their faces. She looked Crowley up and down and a corner of her mouth turned up. “He’s got you well fed, doesn’t he, luv?” she said with a wink to Crowley. Could she tell?

“Shadwell! What accent are we using today?” Crowley joked, giving him a hearty slap on the shoulder.

“Be careful, demon, you never know what weaponry I’ve got with me,” he said in his mismatched brogue, proudly making his finger guns. They laughed together and he gave a solid jovial punch to Aziraphale’s arm. "Yer smashed Santa on the side of the house is a laugh!

"See?" Crowley smirked at Aziraphale. "A man of good taste loves my Santa."

Crowley and Aziraphale ushered them to the sitting room, where they excitedly greeted Newt and Anathema and made acquaintance with Maggie and Nina. The room was quickly filled with tittering, a heavy brogue of confused origin, and laughter. Another doorbell ring pulled Crowley and Aziraphale out of the room.

“Wow. Everyone is on time,” Crowley remarked.

“That’s because I gave them all an earlier arrival time. Technically, they are all late,” Aziraphale answered, opening the door. “There they all are! And a pup, too!”

The Them stood in a huddle on the stoop, Dog - miraculously the same age - wagging his tail at their feet. Not the same age, The Them stood before them as young adults, though Aziraphale and Crowley still held the children they once were in their hearts. One by one, they streamed through the doorway. Adam was last to enter, pulled into a hug by Aziraphale.

Crowley regarded Adam, this boy who quite literally rid him of his chain to Hell. Adam looked over Crowley, centering on his belly. A small smile flashed on his face before they locked eyes. He could sense it.

The Them followed them to the sitting room, Dog happily trotting along. Excited voices became louder as reunions and introductions were had.

“One more - I can feel them,” Crowley said as a familiar prickle hit the ether. “3...2…1..”

The doorbell rang and Aziraphale opened it to reveal Muriel. No longer an Inspector Constable, they were dressed in a creamy tartan skirt and matching blazer with a white jumper, looking every bit the librarian they had become for their assignment on Earth.

“Come in, come in, dear!” Aziraphale welcomed them with a hug, something they had grown to enjoy from humans and certain ethereal beings.

“There’s another angel here?” They asked.

“Oh….ah…there’s me and Crowley.” Aziraphale answered before realizing what they were sensing. “Oh! That will be revealed shortly.”

“Oh,” they laughed, “Of course.” They had no clue.

Everyone was gathered in the sitting room. Aziraphale came back in after checking on the turkey in the oven with Newt. Maggie, Nina, and Muriel settled in wonderfully with the original Armageddidn't crew. The room was filled with happy conversation and laughter. Dog pawed excitedly at Crowley non-stop. Crowley finally picked him up, which was embarrassing for both - and both wouldn’t admit to loving it.

After some time, Maggie piped up. “When do we get a tour?” The rest of the guests joined in with the same question.

“Well,” Aziraphale began, “follow us.” He led them through the house, listening to each ooh and ahh and answering questions about renovations and history and furniture. Crowley chimed in when it came to talking about his plants and the gardens, though he was overall quiet and nervous with the amount of loudness in the house. He enjoyed it, but he felt overwhelmed and exposed and just wanted to announce their happy news so he could relax and, most importantly, eat. Between him and the guests, the charcuterie and the sweets had been mowed down.

They stopped in the nursery and Aziraphale switched the light on to reveal the empty room. “Now, this room has remained empty because we couldn’t decide on a use for it when we first moved in. We’ll be painting it shortly and -”

“Used to be a nursery for wains,” Shadwell said knowingly. “Could use some paint and would make an excellent second TV room. Good acoustics.” He knocked on the windowsills and the walls approvingly as he had done in each room. “Solves fights over what to watch.”

“It would be a great reading room,” Muriel said. “You know, if you didn’t want to read in the library.”

“Or a cat room!” Brian shouted, shoving a cookie in his mouth.

“You could make it an art studio or a yoga studio,” Pepper added.

“What about an extra bedroom for if one of you snores too loud or you get into a fight?” Wensleydale offered. He looked to Adam.

“I think they have it figured out,” he said.

“Right,” Crowley said, “This is our cat yoga studio, where we occasionally do art and I escape Aziraphale’s snoring.” He snored dramatically.

Aziraphale tutted. “I don’t snore. I barely sleep. You, on the other hand…”

“See…”Wensleydale said knowingly, “in case they have a fight.”

They were grown, but The Them still retained some of their childlike silliness, which was refreshing.

“Well,” Aziraphale looked to Crowley, who nodded, “we have some joyful pieces of news to share.” He took a deep breath and held Crowley’s hand. “Crowley and I,” he paused and looked at Crowley again, “Crowley and I are to be married.”

The room immediately erupted into cheers and barks, Dog at Crowley’s feet. Questions came shooting forward. A mix of “when is the big day” and “who proposed” and “let’s see the rings” and “can Dog be the ringbearer?” and, of course, “you know you don’t need a piece of paper, to tell you who to love.”

They showed off their rings to stunned admiration. Compliments were made about their matching nails. Madame Tracy immediately went into planning mode. “Wouldn’t a Spring wedding be lovely? Oh, the flowers! You could have it right here! In your gardens! Newt….oh Newt, do you do cakes?”

“Let them breathe, woman!” Shadwell warned jokingly.

After answering a million questions and telling the proposal story, Aziraphale looked to Crowley again and they smiled together, linking their hands again. He cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention. He could see Anathema, Newt, Maggie, and Nina buzzing because they knew what was coming. As did Adam, who remained calmly amused. And Dog, at Crowley’s feet.

“Onto our other bit of news. This room,” he gestured around, “was a nursery throughout the cottage’s history.” His voice began to shake with emotion and he coughed. Crowley squeezed his hand. “And it shall remain a nursery. Crowley and I are welcoming a little one this Summer. In July!” He beamed.

There was a stunned silence that was quickly broken by gasps and then cries of excitement, followed by even more questions.

“I’m so glad they are letting Queer couples adopt nowadays,” Pepper said authoritatively. She held up a fist in solidarity.

“Oh….oh, no. We’re not adopting,” Aziraphale corrected her. “Though, you are correct on the issue of queer adoptions. Crowley and I, however…You see - “

“I’m pregnant,” Crowley blurted. “Knocked up. Little angelic bun in the demonic oven.” He smiled and pointed to his belly. Well that was a beautiful moment.

Sergeant Shadwell was especially confused, squinting at Crowley. “Yer….eh….”

“Up the kyte, aye.” Crowley cracked in a real Scottish accent.

“Ohhhhhh!” Madame Tracy clapped her hands, “I knew it. I could just see it in your eyes. And your waist. Oh, you positively glow!”

Crowley beamed. He looked pregnant to those who weren’t in the know.

“Wait,” Brian spoke up, “how did you get a baby in you?”

“Right…” Wensleydale said silently. “And where will they come out of?”

“Don’t be daft,” Pepper rolled her eyes.

“You lot are grown! What did they teach you in those schools? How else would I get a baby in me?” He pointed to Aziraphale. “He put them in me. And very well, I might add.” He poked Aziraphale’s arm.

Aziraphale squeezed his eyes shut and waved his hands. “Alright. Alright. This is getting away from us.” He sighed. “Crowley here is pregnant. Nearly 12 weeks with a very healthy baby. Everything happened naturally. And the baby will arrive…ah…naturally.”

“A wee bairn,” Shadwell whispered with a tear in his eye. “How blessed.”

“Very much so, Sergeant Shadwell,” Aziraphale said.

“That’s the other angel,” Muriel said. “That’s who I was sensing.”

“Indeed, my dear.” Aziraphale answered.

The room was once again awash in excited chatter and Crowley accepted many hugs and even allowed a couple of pats of his bump.

“Everyone! Attention!” Aziraphale called out. “Let’s head to our dining room as dinner will be served shortly. We would adore talking to you more about our happy news there. Crowley and I will join you in just a moment.”

Crowley and Aziraphale stayed behind once the others filed out of the room. “That was a thing,” Crowley said, holding both of Aziraphale's hands in his and taking a deep breath.

“Are you alright? That was rather a flurry of activity and noise.”

“Bit overwhelming at times, but nice all the same.” He leaned his head onto Aziraphale's before bringing him into a hug. “I just need to recharge my angel batteries.”

Aziraphale tipped his head up and kissed him. “I’m very happy for us,” he said.

“As am I, Angel.” He gave him one more long kiss. “Now…food.” He took him by the hand and led him to the makeshift dining room. They found that Anathema, Newt, Maggie, and Madame Tracy had already put out nearly all of the food.

“Oh….” Aziraphale began.

“Now, now,” Madame Tracy waved them over to their chairs. “You two sit. Relax yourselves.”

“Oh, but I -” Aziraphale attempted a protest, but Madame Tracy would hear none of it. "You're our guests. Guests don't serve…"

“No, no. You're parents-to-be and we should be serving you, dear. You must be exhausted.” Madame cooed and fussed until the two were seated with napkins in their laps and non-alcoholic wine in their glasses. “Relax. I won't hear anymore from you," she laughed warmly. When it came to fussing about, Aziraphale had his match in Tracy.

“I’ve been telling him to relax,” Crowley said smugly. He didn't care about anything else happening round the table or who was serving who. That was all lovely and great, but he was fucking starved.

Newt plopped a bowl of mash directly in front of Crowley. "This one is specifically yours," he said, spooning some onto Crowley's plate.

"That's it, boy. Load up on tatties. God's own perfect food." Shadwell said, his own plate featuring a hefty pile of the potatoes.

Crowley snorted. He was amused that Newt and Aziraphale had seen fit to make him extra mash, knowing he'd probably fight people at the table for extras.

"This table looks so lovely, like everything else in the house," Maggie said, passing a bowl of peas across the table to Pepper. "Looks professionally done."

"Love the ducks," Nina said. "They really elevate it."

"Aye," Shadwell agreed with a mouthful of mash that betrayed his brogue of the hour, "these types love to flaunt their goods."

"You have a knack for decorating. And the ducks are charming. Reminds me of a teapot Once had…" Madame Tracy said.

"Ah, thank you my dear. I actually made that centerpieces myse - ducks?" Aziraphale just noticed their two high dollar ceramic Tesco ducks. He cut his eyes over at Crowley, who gave him a toothy smile.

Dinner was a feast of delicious foods and very happy conversation. Several toasts went up to celebrate this coming together of old and new friends and all of the achievements they shared. Everyone gave updates on their lives. The Them were at various stages of schooling and working. Shadwell and Tracy were happily enjoying retirement, made easier by a mysterious benefactor who not only put a down payment on their house, but accidentally paid it off, too. Maggie and Nina spoke more about themselves so others could get to know them.

Muriel was quite happy with library work, especially since they worked a reference desk. "People come up to me and ask me questions all day long. It's wonderful!"

Dog was enjoying his own special canine-safe Christmas dinner on the floor next to the table.

Anathema and Newt updated everyone on their culinary and midwifery adventures including those that involved Crowley and Aziraphale.

"You're going to deliver his baby? At your birth center?" Adam asked with a mouthful of cranberry sauce.

"I am. Right here, at this cottage," Anathema answered.

"How much is that going to hurt?" Brian asked, plopping more mash onto his plate.

"Bit, I guess," Crowley said, filling his plate with thirds. He didn't exactly want to think about pushing a baby out.

"What are you naming the baby?" Wensleydale asked.

"Oh, we don't know that quite yet," Aziraphale dabbed his lips with a napkin and looked at Crowley.

"Might name them Wensleydale, now that I think of it." Crowley joked. "Aziraphale insists on naming them Deadpool, but I won't hear of it."

The table laughed with him.

"How are you feeling, dear?" Madame Tracy asked amidst the many questions shooting at Crowley.

"Good. Very good. Bit bumpy at times, but I'm enjoying it and I feel great lately. Glad to be able to eat and keep my food down these days." He stabbed a slice of turkey with his fork.

Dinner continued on and rolled into dessert. Newt had tried his hand, with Aziraphale's help, at making a Bûche de Noël after hearing Crowley and his angel raving about the one they had the other night. Crowley was definitely amenable to having another one.

Guests were given their slices with the exception of Crowley. Newt's crowning achievement was a small version of the bigger cake. All for Crowley, who laughed heartily and quickly dug in. There was resounding praise for Newt and Aziraphale on both the dinner and the dessert.

Everyone retired to the sitting room for more conversation, coffee, and tea, enthusiastically poured by Madame Tracy. No one noticed the miraculous clearing and cleaning of the dinner table in the dining room. Anathema asked if they could sit around the fire pit outside. It wasn't as cold as previous nights and the sky was clear with barely a sliver of a moon. She and Newt had brought plenty of marshmallows.

Aziraphale lit the fire pit and welcomed everyone outside with blankets and hot chocolate. Anathema set up a station with bags of marshmallows and skewers.

“Would y'look at the sky,” Sergeant Shadwell said, his tone full of wonder.

All eyes peered up to the Heavens, to Crowley's stars, the Milky Way.

Aziraphale smiled to himself as he thought of their ring exchange and subsequent lovemaking the other night under these very stars.

“I’d never get any sleep if this was over my house every night,” Brian said.

“It’s extraordinary. The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Maggie whispered. “I can see why you are away from the bookshop so much these days, Mr. Fell.”

“We are quite fortunate to live here,” Aziraphale said gently. “This view is especially important to Crowley. He’s quite the starma- star gazer.” Aziraphale swallowed a bittersweet feeling. If only they knew. “Crowley is a bit of an expert on astronomy and could easily tell you anything you want to know. Isn't that right…Crowley?” He looked around. Crowley wasn't out there. Dog was whining near the door. “Ah, let me go check on him.”

Aziraphale had visions of Crowley sampling what was left of the biscuits and sweets in the sitting room. He was not in there. “Crowley?” He heard the toilet lid slam. He walked quickly toward the bathroom.

“Why am I so fucking stupid?” Crowley’s voice peeled out from the other side of the bathroom door.

Aziraphale knocked softly and tried the handle. “Crowley? What's going on?” His heart quickened.

Chapter Text

Crowley was enjoying the evening. Though a lot to handle, he wasn't minding the attention and was quite happy to be surrounded by friends. He found it affirming. When Anathema announced that she had marshmallows for the fire pit, Crowley had every intention of following them outside to stab and set sugary fluffy goo ablaze.

He thought of how happy everyone was for them and it warmed his heart, which is why he was nearly knocked off his feet by the intrusive thought that came barreling through his brain like a cannonball.

What if something goes wrong, Crowley? Be a damn shame if you had to tell all of these lovely people the bad news.

Crowley rubbed at his temples as if he could erase the thoughts that way. He had been doing so well managing the anxiety. He hadn't felt the need to wipe and check in a bit. He had been feeling more confident. He'd also gotten away with so much happiness and changes within himself recently. What if it had been noticed and was to be taken away from him?

He walked into the bathroom and slammed the door closed. He could hear the loud jovial voices outside, unaware that he was in there and stuck with a brain fighting itself. He felt isolated, lonely. He tried to breathe through the thoughts. When that didn’t work, he tried to angrily chase them away. The thoughts were not intimidated. He furiously rubbed at his head and paced. “I’m not doing it,” he told himself.

He felt a pit growing in his stomach as his skin flushed with heat and his heart rate began to climb along with his quickened breaths. He almost felt a bit dizzy. And he suddenly had to pee.

He used the toilet. One check, he told himself. Maybe that would calm this down. Clear. See? Not so bad and everything is fine.

Just once more, though, because he did just pee and maybe that would wash away any evidence. Clear.

Just to be safe, once more. Clear. Please stop, his mind begged.

Crowley wiped and checked, wiped and checked with shaking hands until he felt raw, the delicate skin protesting the drying swipes of scratchy paper. Tears burned his eyes. He cried from frustration. He cried from the pain he just caused himself. He cried from the story his anxiety was trying to tell him and from his perceived failure that he couldn’t fight against it.

"No. No no no no no no no," he growled at himself. 'I'm not doing this." He stood up and threw his last piece of toilet paper in the bowl. He slammed the lid and flushed.

The toilet gave a weak gurgle. He opened the lid. Ribbons of toilet paper waved in the water like seaweed above ragged clumps that were stuck. He had used so much that he clogged the toilet. He slammed the lid again. His brain was screaming at him. Great, he couldn't stop his mind and he physically hurt himself. Now, he fucked up the toilet.

"Why am I so fucking stupid?!" he cried loudly as he washed his hands, not noticing his reflection in the mirror. Why couldn't he just escape this need to check, especially when he knew things were okay? Why couldn't just be rational with himself? Why couldn't he just scare these thoughts away? His brain swirled, unlike the water in the toilet.

He jumped at the sound of soft knocking and Aziraphale's voice

With a deep breath, he opened the door. Aziraphale looked panicked. Even more so when he saw Crowley's face

"Crowley! Oh, Crowley, are you alright?" Aziraphale held the demon's face in his hands. It was flushed and streaked with mascara-stained tears.

Aziraphale was frightened. A clearly distressed Crowley in the bathroom could mean any number of things and Aziraphale shook his head to get rid of the worst of those options.

"Did you get sick?" He hoped that's all it was, but knew it wasn't.

"My head, Aziraphale. The anxiety. It won't leave me alone." He sobbed and angrily smacked his hand on his head. "I can't bloody stop it." He dropped himself into Aziraphale's arms.

"My darling," he soothed, rubbing the demon's head. He quickly put two and two together and realized Crowley was dealing with his checking ritual thanks to intrusive thoughts. "Oh, my dear Crowley." He snapped a glass of cold water into existence. "There now, my love."

Crowley took careful sips and leaned against his angel. He hadn't realized his mouth had been so dry until he took those sips. He caught his reflection in the mirror and noticed the black streaks staining his cheeks. "Oh. Oh, my mascara isn't waterproof." He began to wipe it with his hands, but Aziraphale reached up with a wet flannel and softly wiped at his flushed and tear-streaked skin.

"There we are, my darling. Right as rain. Come, let's sit down." He led him into the bedroom.

Crowley's chest shuddered several times as he walked to the bed and sat down with Aziraphale. The angel rubbed his back as the words just poured out of him and he told him about the intrusive thoughts.

Crowley’s body felt warm through his jumper from his crying. Aziraphale snapped to crack the window. He looked into Crowley’s eyes, golden irises slightly wider, and began taking deep breaths for him to follow. They sat, breathing silently for a few minutes before Aziraphale spoke.

"My sweet Crowley. You've been through so much and you've come very far." He kissed Crowley’s sigil. “Look at you. You’re protecting our baby, nourishing them, making them feel loved with every part of you. With all that you have been through, it is no wonder that such a miraculous process will come with anxiety. It’s not a weakness. You're not doing anything wrong." He rocked him gently. "My dear boy," he swiped a hand to push hair out of Crowley's eyes, "you are not stupid. Please, please know that you are not stupid.” Something about hearing those particular words come from Crowley had pierced his heart.

“The way it comes out of nowhere is just…” he searched the air around him for words, but couldn’t find any. “I know the baby is okay, but my brain won’t let me fully relax into it. I won’t be able to until they are in my arms, Aziraphale.” He sniffed. “And then I’ll probably be a helicopter mum. Probably be shit at it all anyway.” His chin quivered as he began to sob again.

Aziraphale hugged him closer. “You will mother our children…child…child…expertly, of that I am sure. I trust every aspect of you as a parent, Crowley. They will be so lucky to have you guiding them and loving them. What was that you said to me in the bookshop the other day? You don’t take kindly to people talking down on your angel, hmmm? I don’t take kindly to people who talk down to my demon.” He offered a smile. “I jest, Crowley. Your worries and fears are very valid and the anxiety is taking advantage of that. It’s not you doing it.”

“I just…everything will be okay, right? Aziraphale?” He rubbed his head. It was pounding.

“I have full faith and confidence that it will.” Aziraphale gently ran his fingers through Crowley’s hair. The demon had slumped into him, fully letting go of himself in Aziraphale's arms.

“I think I need therapy.” He fiddled with the wrist of his jumper, folding it back and unfolding it. “There’s a lot I need to process through and I think it's bigger than we can fix on our own.” He squeezed his eyes shut against the tears that rolled out with that admission.

“That sounds like a rather wise idea and I will be there to support you through it. However you need me. We can look for a therapist right after Christmas.” He pressed their cheeks together and kissed his sigil again. “You're incredibly courageous, Crowley. I admire you.”

Crowley took a few deep breaths and let himself bask in the protective embrace of his angel. No matter what was going on in the world around him or the world inside him, his safest and most trusted space was anywhere with his angel near him. Having the opportunity to freely rest in his arms and receive comfort was nothing short of miraculous to Crowley.

There was a quiet knock on their bedroom door and Anathema's voice floated through the air. “Are you okay in there?”

“Come on in,” Crowley called, not moving from Aziraphale.

Anathema peeked in. “I’m so sorry to intrude. I just - my gut told me to check on you.”

“Smart gut,” Crowley said.

“We’re having a bit of a dance with anxiety this evening.” Aziraphale told her, protectively drawing Crowley closer.

“Anything I can help with?” She timidly approached the bed. A little pang knocked on her heart at the sight of Crowley, slumped in Aziraphale's very strong arms - she could feel that Aziraphale's usual energy was much stronger, even fierce, which was a contrast to the serene look he was putting on his face. It was almost as if the angel was shielding him from everything surrounding them. Crowley’s face was blotchy with redness around his larger than usual irises. It was not more than an hour ago that he was cracking jokes in the kitchen and had been ready to follow her out to the fire pit with everyone else.

Crowley quietly explained everything that had just gone on emotionally and how he was still in physical pain from all the checking.

“I’m so sorry, Crowley. I know those thoughts have been distressing for you and that you were trying so hard to stop checking. Do you want me to take a look down there? It sounds like there is likely a bit of irritation.”

Crowley thought for a moment. He did want her to check to be sure he didn't cause too much damage. He went back and forth in his mind. He trusted her so much, but he just wasn’t ready for anyone else to see him or touch him there. He squeezed his thighs together and pulled the hem of his sweater down over the place between his legs in a protective motion. He shook his head, a tear streaming down. “I can't. I’m sorry.”

Anathema knelt on the floor in front of him. “No, no, Crowley. There is no need to apologize to me. I’m sorry my question was upsetting. How about this? When you're comfortable, Aziraphale can look and you guys can let me know if he thinks there is anything concerning that needs medical attention.”

Crowley nodded weakly.

“I have an idea. I always have my spare medical “go bag” in the car. For births. I have a fetal Doppler in there. Would it make you feel a little better to hear the baby?” After a nod of affirmation from Crowley, she said, “I’m going to let everyone know you guys are just taking a little break and then I’ll grab my bag.

Crowley remained in Aziraphale's arms. “I need help,” he whispered.

“We’ll work together to get you any help that you need, my darling.” He rubbed circles on Crowley’s scalp with the pads of his fingers and hummed to him while they waited.

Crowley stretched out on the bed when Anathema returned with the doppler. He pulled his waistband down while she applied a tiny amount of gel to the probe.

Crowley's tears were joined by his smile when the sound of their baby's heartbeat filled the bedroom. He felt relief and his legs shook involuntarily with the release of tension from his muscles. This would remain his favorite sound until their baby’s first breath and cry. “Oh thank…someone. There they are.”

Aziraphale continued to card his fingers through Crowley's hair. His own tears journeyed down his face at the sound of their baby's strong heartbeat and the relieved look on Crowley’s face.

“165 bpm.” She held up the unit to show to numbers on the little screen. “Absolutely perfect,” Anathema said. “And in a few days, you two get to see this little bean during your ultrasound.” She laid a gentle hand on Crowley's bump. “I can’t wait, personally.”

"Thank you," he said, sitting up. " Probably going to regret telling me you have a Doppler with you at all times," he managed a weak laugh. He felt relieved and a bit calmer.

They thanked Anathema once more and told her they would join her back outside shortly.

Crowley spent another few minutes in Aziraphale's arms, with his angel quietly soothing him.

"Do you want me to…ah…to check? Like Anathema suggested?"

"Um…later, I think. We should probably head back out." Crowley yawned and sat up, stretching his limbs every which way. The come down from an anxiety attack made him tired and achy, but he didn’t want to end the night on this note.

"Are you sure you're up to it? Everyone would understand if you're not. You do have the pregnancy card." Aziraphale rubbed his back, noting that he felt cooler. He snapped the window shut.

Crowley smiled. "I want to be able to enjoy the rest of this night. And light marshmallows on fire." He leaned in to kiss Aziraphale. "Thank you for…you. Thank you for giving me strength and for always understanding." Another kiss and he was off to the bathroom to freshen up and fix his mascara. When finished, he sheepishly peeked out of the bathroom door.

"I clogged the toilet with all that tissue. Sorry. We don't have an uncloggy thingie or I’d fix it myself.”

"No matter." Aziraphale snapped and the toilet could be heard flushing efficiently. An "uncloggy thingie" also appeared, just in case there was need in the future. Though he was relieved that the issue had been nothing serious on the physical end, his heart broke for Crowley's continued emotional struggles. He was, however, incredibly proud of his love for wanting to seek therapy.

They were greeted with happy cheers when they returned outside. Crowley gleefully set several marshmallows on fire and nearly caused several heart attacks when he'd shove a flaming confection straight into his mouth.

Crowley pointed out various interesting star facts to a voluntarily captive audience, wowing them with his knowledge and surprising them with the way he spoke of them, the usual edge to his words and voice nowhere to be found.

"You're very gifted, Anthony," Nina said. "Who knew you were an expert on astronomy? And you explain it in such an unpretentious way."

Crowley looked to the sky and blinked a few times. “There was an amazing meteor shower the other night. If you keep your eyes to the sky right now, you may see some leftovers” He sighed, asking a silent favor with his eyes pointed up to the heavens. He smiled as several meteors rushed across the sky and the group gasped out loud.

“It’s almost like they heard you,” Pepper said, her voice heavy with wonder.

Crowley caught the eyes of Muriel and Aziraphale. “Isn’t it just?” he asked with a wink.

As the night wore on it became time to say goodbye to their guests. Each of them were sent home with a tin of Christmas biscuits and a card containing whatever miraculous and generous amount of money they needed at the moment plus extra for "frivolity." A warm handwritten Christmas greeting in each card was followed with a stern reminder that Mr. Fell and Mr. Crowley will not hear any protests about such gifts.

Dog received his own tin of specially crafted biscuits that Newt and Aziraphale whipped up yesterday. Crowley handed the tin to Adam.

"There are three missing," Crowley began, "but there are still a lot in there. Sorry. I hadn't realized they were dog biscuits. I owe you, Dog," he said as he leaned down to scratch behind the hellhound's ears.

Aziraphale looked to Newt with a half amused, half pained expression on his face. "I can't leave him unattended," he sighed.

Aziraphale and Newt were complimented with gushing praise for their cooking. Crowley received many hugs, even from Shadwell, and quite a few gentle pats to his belly.

Crowley had surprised himself this entire evening as he freely welcomed each hand to his small bump. He never thought he'd ever be someone who allowed himself to be touched by anyone other than Aziraphale and their midwife.

"Before we know it, we'll all be together again for a wedding," Madame Tracy exclaimed as Sergeant Shadwell helped her into her coat. “And then a baby shower!” She smiled with the glint of a tear in her eye. She left impressions of pink lipstick on many cheeks, even those of ethereal and canine variety.

Maggie and Nina left with not only their biscuit tins and cards, but with phones full of new contacts as they had been so warmly welcomed into the group as if they'd always been part of it.

Muriel, also delighted to be accepted into such a loving group of people, stepped out of the door and disappeared, tin in hand.

Adam was the last one out. Dog pressed his head to Crowley's leg as Adam and the demon regarded one another. "Can I?" Adam asked, his hand hovering over Crowley's bump.

"Yes," Crowley answered, keeping his eyes locked on the young man's.

Adam softly laid his hand on Crowley's belly and closed his eyes. Crowley could feel an exchange of warmth and sighed softly.

"They're very happy," he said as he opened his eyes. He looked between Aziraphale and Crowley. "They feel loved and safe with you two." He looked into Crowley's eyes. "They want you to know that everything will be okay and they can't wait to meet you this summer." With that, he gave Crowley a small hug and whistled for Dog, making his way out of the cottage to join the Them.

Crowley looked to Aziraphale with tears in his eyes. Aziraphale gave him a soft smile and opened his arms for a hug. "He turned out to be a fine young man, indeed. How kind of him to give us such happy news." Aziraphale needed that news, too.

The house found itself miraculously put back to order, all dishes cleaned and leftovers put away. Lights were extinguished and Crowley and Aziraphale wished a good night to Anathema and Newt, who'd be leaving first thing in the morning to visit with Newt's family over Christmas.

While getting ready for bed, Aziraphale and Crowley chatted happily about how well the dinner had gone and how nice it was to see everyone and to foster new connections. They were on cloud nine after Adam's proclamation.

"They're happy, Aziraphale. He said they are happy. Right here, in my belly." Crowley rested his hand on the swell of his little bump. He still felt a little swirly in his head from earlier, but his spirits were much higher and the anxiety had been chased away.

Aziraphale gave him a hug and kiss. “I’m very glad we were able to hear the heartbeat and receive such kind affirmation from Adam.”

Aziraphale sat in his armchair with a book while Crowley was in the bathroom messing about with skincare. He was set on reading just one or two more pages when the demon came out of the bathroom and walked towards him.

"Don't stop reading," Crowley whispered as he knelt down in front of him. His hair was still pushed back in the spiral headband he uses to tame his locks while doing skincare. He moved to pull the angel's pajama bottoms down far enough to expose his cock.

Aziraphale's breath hitched. "Crowley…"

"Shhh. Guests. Keep reading." He wrapped his fingers around the quickly hardening length and brought his mouth down to meet it.

Aziraphale read the same passage over and over, not picking up the words, while he writhed and panted, moaning softly as Crowley worked his cock thoroughly. When the demon gulped down the heavy load he delivered into his mouth, Aziraphale gripped his book so hard that he wrinkled several pages.

“Poor book,” Crowley said as he helpfully pulled Aziraphale's waistband up. “Worth it.” He winked.

“It certainly was. Fortunately, I am a bit of an expert on book repair.” He grinned mischievously and giggled. "It's a jolly good thing you swallow. My book would have been in quite a fretful state otherwise.”

Crowley cackled and stood, pulling Aziraphale up, and kissed him mid-laugh.

In bed, Aziraphale examined Crowley and found his skin was fairly irritated, though not in a terrible state. Crowley declined a miracle at first, opting to wait until the morning to treat it if needed. However, his hormones took precedence and he was unable to abstain from the temptation that was Aziraphale. When making love proved to be a little painful, he consented to a miracle - with the stipulation that the angel use his tongue to deliver it.

Crowley was up several hours before the sun once again and was not taking no for an answer when it came to offering his angel some time in the tub. If Crowley had anything to do with it, the only things Aziraphale would be doing for the next two days were relaxing, eating, and fucking. It was Christmas Eve and Crowley may have threatened coal in the stocking if Aziraphale didn't shelve the fussiness.

Aziraphale protested more rest after their bath. He wanted to make breakfast for Anathema and Newt before they left. It was the least he could do, he had argued. Crowley allowed a small compromise here and they made breakfast for them together. Aziraphale loved cooking with him.

Standing in front of a sizzling pan, Crowley was in charge of bacon. Very delicious bacon.

"Crowley, what did you do with the bacon that you already cooked and drained?" Aziraphale asked, spooning batter onto the griddle for Newt's favorite - plain old pancakes. He already knew the answer.

"It's not a question of what I did, Aziraphale," Crowley answered casually, using tongs to flip the bacon that was currently cooking. "The baby has demands." He laughed. "Baby's first temptations."

"What am I to do with you?" Aziraphale clucked with a smile as he wrote "bacon - quite a lot" on the growing shopping list stuck to the fridge. He snapped and a new package appeared. "When one cooks breakfast for our guests, one should actually give them the chance to consume it." He gave Crowley a lighthearted smile.

Newt was genuinely touched that they made his favorite breakfast and quite stunned at the amount of pancakes stacked on the table despite being aware that they were for all four of them - five, actually. In private conversations with Anathema, he expressed the simple happiness he felt watching the way Crowley and Aziraphale loved one another and took care of one another. He'd become closer to both and had especially enjoyed the time learning from and bonding with Aziraphale - especially learning that he wasn’t as uptight and demure as Newt had thought. It made him happy to see Crowley go from being at the mercy of all day sickness to a voracious predator in the kitchen.

Aziraphale and Crowley once again expressed gratitude to the both of them for their help and support over the past few days.

Crowley and Newt headed out to pack up the car, with the demon holding a hand up to a fretting Aziraphale and reminding him he is not made of glass.

Anathema stayed behind in the kitchen with Aziraphale. "You and Crowley are so dedicated to one another," she began, “it’s always inspiring to watch the way the two of you interact. Remember that you can call me anytime you need to talk." She thought back to the frantic call from Aziraphale a few weeks ago and knew it wouldn't be the last time he struggled. “You’re both going through this pregnancy and you are learning to become a father while supporting Crowley through some very difficult things. Just know that it’s okay to reach out if you need support for yourself.”

"Thank you, my dear girl," Aziraphale said softly. He was wiping down their table. "I admit I still struggle with feeling like a burden when I need to express any of the uncomfortable emotions or…or find support for myself. It's certainly something I need to work on," he admitted. "Old thought patterns are difficult to overcome, it seems.”

"You are never a burden." She gave him a hug. "You're a light, Aziraphale.”

Newt appeared in the doorway. "Ready?"

Crowley and Aziraphale walked them to their car and settled into hugs and goodbyes.

Anathema pecked a kiss on Crowley's cheek with her hug. "I love our girl time. I needed it. Thank you for being a friend."

Crowley chuckled at the Golden Girls reference. "I'm lucky to have you. Thank you for everything," he whispered. As always, he was wanting to say so much more, but couldn’t catch the words.

"Newton!" Crowley yelled and gave him a strong pat to the back of his shoulder. "Be sure to park that car where Santa can't see it tonight during his adventures. He'll surely drop a giant lump of coal on it. Worse, the Reindeer might use it as a litter box. Dasher is a bit of a cunt like that." He cackled and gave him a tight hug. "Never gets old, mate. Never will. Not for me."

Newt began to realize that this constant ribbing was Crowley's "I love you."

Aziraphale handed them a large tin of Christmas biscuits and their card loaded with a Blessing as they sat in their car. They waved them off and watched the tiny blue vehicle disappear down the long winding road.

Chapter Text

"Where…where was that tin of biscuits hiding?" Crowley asked eagerly as he followed Aziraphale back into the cottage.

"In a Crowley-proof hiding spot, my dear. A lady never reveals her secrets.” He flashed one of his ultra charming smiles. “Be not afraid, we shall make more this afternoon.” He turned and kissed Crowley on the nose.

Crowley returned the nose kiss and took Aziraphale by the hand, leading him to the bedroom. They remained there, bodies pressed and moving together, until lunch time, when the demon’s caloric needs won the battle against his carnal needs.

After a lunch of leftovers from the previous night’s dinner, they remained in the kitchen and baked more Christmas biscuits - “since I never got my own tin,” Crowley pouted.

“We gave you your own plate and a rather large one at that. And there were plenty of sweets out last night. Let’s not forget Dog’s biscuits.” Aziraphale flicked flour at him.

“Oi!” Crowley impulsively stuck his hand in the canister of flour and pulled out a handful, lobbing it at Aziraphale as if it was a snowball. The table, chairs, floor, and one half of an angel were covered in the fine, white dusting of the flour. “Oops,” Crowley pressed his lips together and raised his eyebrows.

Aziraphale blinked and brushed his hands together, letting a cloud of flour disperse into the air. Thankfully, they were both dressed simply in undershirts and pyjama bottoms. He looked down at himself and then looked at Crowley. “You look like you need a hug, my darling demon.”

“I think I’m good,” Crowley laughed and backed away from the approaching floury angel. He squealed loudly as Aziraphale reached him and grabbed him into his arms, giving him a tight hug and shimmying his body against the demon’s. Crowley laughed hysterically.

Without letting go, Aziraphale reached across the table and dipped his fingers in the sugary icing meant for gingerbread folks. He smeared the icing down Crowley’s face to more squeals of delighted laughter. “There we are then. Now you’re perfectly decorated and ready to be eaten.” He jokingly took bites of Crowley’s face and neck while the demon pretended to struggle.

They laughed and wrestled, creating even more of a mess. Aziraphale eventually licked some of the icing off of Crowley, which would have been erotic, but Crowley managed to inhale a breath of flour off of Aziraphale’s skin in that moment and began a combination of sneezing and cough-choking, which caused them both to laugh even more, eyes watering and faces bright red under their coatings of flour and icing.

“You look like a ghost, but I think I’m the one actually dying,” Crowley wheezed, unable to stop laughing.

Aziraphale - also quite hysterical with laughter - rubbed the tears from his eyes, ignoring the fact that his fingers were still covered in icing and flour, which was now rubbed into his eyes. No matter, the burning in his eyes was no match for the laughter that still roared from his chest.

“I…I need a picture of you like this,” Aziraphale said, huffing and puffing.

“I need a picture of you,” Crowley was attempting his breathing exercises, but couldn’t stop giggling.

Aziraphale snapped the phone into his hand and held it up to take a picture of Crowley, who made a peace sign with one hand and flashed the middle finger with the other, a broad, goofy smile on his face.

“Now you,” Crowley took the phone and took several shots of Aziraphale, who attempted to look dignified and gentlemanly. “What a fucking sight you are.” Crowley thought of the contrast between this afternoon’s photos and the ones they took just a few nights ago under the stars. It brought a sappy smile to his face.

“Selfie, too. You know the drill.” They pressed their messy faces together and smiled. “One more.” Crowley managed his signature “surprise” kiss to the angel’s cheek as Aziraphale squeezed his eyes shut and smiled brightly.

“Oh! Your 11 week bump pic! This is your last day at 11 weeks.” Aziraphale aimed the phone as Crowley dipped his waistband below his bump and posed for the pic.

Crowley took a photo of the mess in the kitchen. He sent it to the group chat with Anathema and Newt along with their selfies.

Crowley: “This is what happens when you leave us unsupervised. He started it,” the text read.

His phone chimed a moment later. Anathema: ”Why do I have the feeling you’re not that innocent? Newt says he hopes you are making new biscuits for Dog.”

Crowley sent a gif of Britney Spears from her “Oops, I did it again” video. The words “I’m not that innocent” captioned the moving image of a red leather clad Britney.

“Someone’s burning something,” Crowley sniffed and then coughed, flour still in his throat.

“Oh shit!” Aziraphale pulled out very, very browned biscuits from the oven.

“I’ll still eat them,” Crowley shrugged. And he did.

They continued their baking without burning anything else. Aziraphale looked up at Crowley, who was cutting star shapes freehand from the dough he had rolled out. His hair was matted - glamorously, because it’s Crowley - and full of flour, his face and arms were a combo of flour and icing, with some sprinkles for good measure. The hem of his shirt was hiked up, showing just a crack of skin at his belly. He was an absolutely glorious mess and so striking in his beauty - as always. Aziraphale thought of the contrast with the previous night, when Crowley’s face was red with frustration and stained with mascara. They’d work through many swings from emotion to emotion in the coming months - that he knew.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Crowley said without looking up. He was concentrating on getting his sprinkles distributed just ever so perfectly on his biscuits.

“I think I shall.” Aziraphale reached for Crowley’s phone, which, like most things in the kitchen, had become victim to flour and icing fingerprints.

Several successful and delicious - Crowley was sure to sample for science - batches came out of the oven and the two were left with a festive assortment of Christmas goodies. “It’s nearly time to think about dinner. What shall we have tonight?” Aziraphale asked as he carefully placed biscuits in a tin.

“Uh…this? It’s Christmas Eve. Call me Santa, because I’m having these for dinner, he decapitated a gingerbread man with his teeth.”

“Ah. Of course. I don’t know if that sort of dinner is recommended in any of the books regarding the care and feeding of pregnant demons. You need protein.” He held up a hand to Crowley’s smirk. “Yes, I know you’ve already swallowed several of my loads earlier today, but I think you need non-Aziraphale protein, too.”

“What a perv! I was going to recommend milk. I hate milk, though. Can’t I just suck you off?” Crowley pouted.

Aziraphale sighed, his resolve leaving his body along with that breath. “If you must.” He yelped as he found himself quickly pressed against the refrigerator. Crowley made quick work of him and the angel soon found himself crying the demon’s name as he delivered a shot of angelic protein into his mouth. When Crowley stood to kiss him and share the load, he noted his own flavor was mixed with the taste of the gingerbread men Crowley had devoured just prior to this servicing. It was delightfully naughty, thought Aziraphale, and in the holiday spirit, too!

Crowley clapped his hands. “Right! Let’s get this place cleaned up.” He grabbed a broom while Aziraphale remained panting against the refrigerator.

Once Aziraphale recovered, he joined Crowley in cleaning the kitchen. Afterward, the two took a shower and scrubbed one another clean. Neither had realized that getting hair that was full of flour wet would result in tangled doughy messes atop their heads. Deep conditioning and combing through one another’s hair to rid themselves of tiny balls of dough proved to be laborious and not without the occasional “ouch!”

The rest of the day was quiet and restful. Aziraphale kept Christmas tunes playing on the gramophone. Crowley had given in and agreed to a proper supper. They found themselves cuddling on the sofa in front of the fire in the sitting room, dressed in their pyjamas. The room was warm and scented with pine, fir, and the sweetness from their baking. The crackling fire worked in tandem with hundreds of tiny Christmas lights and candles to create a magical glow around the room. Crowley’s Christmas ducks were now prominently displayed on the small bookshelf by the window, a fact that made him smile.

He laid with his head in Aziraphale’s lap. The angel was twirling red tendrils of hair around his fingers.

“I know we usually avoid gifts after all this time, but I did get you a couple of presents,” Aziraphale said softly. “I’m sure with children…with a child, Christmas will start to look different for us in the coming years.”

“Mmmm. This means I’ll have to compete with Father Christmas for the mince pies our little sprog leaves out. Jolly old fuck won’t stand a chance, ‘specially if I’m ever pregnant at Christmas again.” He was just as shocked at the words that came out of his mouth as Aziraphale. However, the angel had also slipped a few times when talking about the future.

“You…you might want more children?” Aziraphale asked, stunned.

“Dunno, to be honest. Bit too early for that kind of decision. ‘s a nice thought. Just shooting out a bunch of babies.” He made finger gun motions down by his crotch and added “pew pew” sound effects. “Babies everywhere! Pew pew!”

“The way you romanticize everything is endearing, darling.”

“You want more babies, I can tell.” Crowley caressed his bump and looked into the stormy blue eyes peering down at him.

“I truly don't know. We’re so early in the process, yet. It’s difficult to say how either of us will feel later. I admit, the idea of a larger family does appeal to me at times. I just don’t know how that would look or work out practically.”

Crowley was mildly uncomfortable with the subject. There was so much unknown about why he was even able to get pregnant in the first place when it was common knowledge among their kind that it didn’t happen. Though Muriel didn’t bat an eye at the subject when they were here. He turned his head towards Aziraphale’s belly and gave it a shake with his hand to break the tension he felt.

“I’d love to see you full and round with my babies, though. You’d be so fucking hot.”

Aziraphale blushed. “Oh, I…I don’t know that I could ever do this. Not as well as you and I…ah…I don’t know that it’s for me.” Truth be told, Aziraphale didn’t think he was good enough for such a blessing. Crowley has made such a comment a few times now and Aziraphale found the idea intriguing, but he didn’t have the confidence in himself to pull off such an undertaking.

“It’s not a competition, love,” Crowley said softly. “Let’s shelve this discussion for now.” He grabbed Aziraphale’s hand and kissed it. “Back to your original point. I have presents, too. Cheesy ones, but I’ve got them.”

They sat in silence for a while until Crowley spoke up again. “So…traditionally the humanfolk would exchange gifts on Christmas Eve.” He got up off the sofa. “I’m going to get mine.” He grabbed the bag of gifts he had kept tucked in the guest room.

Crowley returned to the sitting room to find Aziraphale sitting in the same spot, gifts under the tree. The angel stood up. Crowley looked around. “I didn’t hear you get up. Where did those come from?”

“I’ve played St. Nick more times than I can count. I know all the tricks. Ho, ho, ho.” Aziraphale laughed.

“Careful who you’re calling a hoe. I’m the mother of your child.” He smiled.

Aziraphale clicked his tongue and sat by the tree. “Come here,” he patted the floor, covered by a thick Turkish carpet, next to him. He held a festively wrapped gift in his hands and held it out to Crowley as the demon sat cross-legged next to him. “Now, this is technically for the both of us, but I believe you’ll love it.”

Crowley carefully pulled off the ribbon and unwrapped the shiny paper to reveal a sleek black box with a shop logo he didn’t recognize. He lifted the lid off to reveal the snake collar Aziraphale had picked out the other day. Crowley gasped. Collars had featured casually in their sex life, though they didn’t have too many hard and fast rules regarding their use. They had begun using them after a discussion in which Crowley indicated he wanted to reclaim the notion that he was ever chained to anyone after having been freed of his ties and the literal chain he wore in service to Hell. "No longer a consort to Hell. Only to you," he had said. His collars were to be worn primarily when Aziraphale chose, with the understanding that Crowley was always free to decline, which he never did. It was simply one of many ways that they expressed themselves to one another and the world - that Crowley belonged to Aziraphale and that Aziraphale protected him.

This collar was so finely crafted and meaningful. All of Crowley’s other collars were leather with various types of studs and rings, largely chosen for function and aesthetic. This one looked like expensive jewelry - it was - and was the first to feature symbolism specific to Crowley. Collaring always had an emotional element to it, but Crowley thought this one would take the cake in terms of its meaning and the emotions behind it.

“Aziraphale. How beautiful,” he said, turning it over in his hands. It was smooth and heavy, shiny and showy. The black metal and garnet stones glistened in the twinkling Christmas lights. He hoped to wear it publicly soon. “I…I love it. Can’t wait to wear...for you to put it on me."

“In due time, my dear. Yes, it was a rather fortunate discovery when I was out with Newt the other day. It was in a quaint little adult shop, charming and filled to the brim with all sorts of sinful delights.” He wiggled his fingers.

Crowley’s eyes grew wide. “You were in a sex shop with Newt?”

“Oh yes. We were in town to pick up dinner and something for your other present when I saw this in the window. Oh, the poor fellow. I believe he learned that there is more than meets the eye when it comes to dear old Mr. Fell.” Aziraphale giggled.

Crowley smiled at his obviously proud angel. “Mr. Fell comes out of his shell,” he snorted. "Mr. Fell came out of his shell to fuck a demon straight out of hell." He laughed.

"Ah, Crowley, distinguished nursery rhyme author." Aziraphale took the collar and put it back in its box. “We’ll set that aside for now.” He picked up his other present. This one was larger and wrapped just as festively as the other. “I’m quite nervous about this one. It’s handmade.”

“Feels a bit hard to be knitted,” Crowley said as he took the gift from Aziraphale, noting how the angel was now squeezing and rubbing his fingers. He slowly unwrapped the paper, first revealing the handcrafted frame and then laying his eyes on the mostly nude portrait of himself. There he was in graphite and paper, skillfully drawn by hands that obviously adored the sketched subject, hands that intimately knew every line and curve of the figure on the page. He traced his fingers over the glass and saw himself so clearly through Aziraphale’s eyes. He could feel the love that had been poured into every stroke of the pencil. He looked serenely beautiful in this drawing. Crowley understood what Aziraphale had meant when he called him a goddess. He felt the worshipful dedication in the shading of each curve. His finger circled around the bump and his breath caught in his throat. He was so many things in just one drawing - striking, maternal, strong, peaceful, sensual, fertile, divine, loved . Tears gathered under his lower lids.

“Do you…like it?” Aziraphale asked, quietly eager.

Crowley was unable to speak. He raised his watery eyes to look at Aziraphale and leaned forward to hug him, the portrait pressed between their bodies. “This goes above the fireplace in our bedroom,” Crowley said. “I want to see it every morning when I wake up.” He stared at the portrait again. “Aziraphale, you are perfection. This is my favorite piece of art - and I have works from DaVinci for fuck’s sake. No one has ever captured me or drawn me so perfectly.” Over the ages, they had both featured in artwork that now hung in prestigious museums. Crowley had been drawn, painted, and sculpted by some of the finest artists in history and it all paled in comparison to having the one he loved, who loved him and saw him craft his image like this. It inspired emotions he didn't even know he could experience. “Thank you.” The two words were simple, but they held the incomparable weight of gratitude he felt. He leaned forward and dropped a soft kiss to Aziraphale’s lips.

Crowley carefully placed the portrait against the coffee table and turned to Aziraphale. He rubbed at his eyes. "Well…my gifts are shit. In comparison." He laughed.

"I believe we're not meant to compare ourselves, hmmm? You could give me a dildo wearing a Santa hat and I'd treasure it for ever."

Crowley scrunched his face in mock disappointment and sucked his teeth. "Oh, you ruined it! How did you guess?" He pouted before they fell into laughter.

He handed him his first gift, the packages of film. "Not as practical as a dildo, but hopefully this will be of some use to you."

Aziraphale considered the wrapping. The paper was a dark blue with gold stars scattered on it. The gift had been wrapped with the mathematical precision Aziraphale knew well from his lover. Unwrapping revealed packages of film for the camera he had found in his bookshop. Aziraphale shook his balled fists in excitement. "Yes!"

"There's color. There's black and white. I got you a variety of ISO speeds. Hopefully everything you need to use that bad boy."

"And flashes, too! Oh thank you, Crowley. This is perfect. I can't wait to shoot you."

Crowley held up his hands. "Wow. That got violent quickly. It's always you. First a total perv. Now a mobster." He laughed. He handed Aziraphale a large box. Anathema had given him a large shirt box to wrap the assortment of frames in. "From your overly sentimental demon."

Aziraphale tore into the paper and lifted the lid. It barely took a second for a tear to show up in his eye as he lifted the first frame, the photo of them from Rocky Horror, out of the box. Aziraphale was lost in the photo, taking in the cocky swagger of Crowley next to his own nervous countenance. That night changed Aziraphale in the theater and then changed everything for the both of them in bed.

Crowley put his arm around Aziraphale. "Got you misty-eyed with the first photo. My work here is done." He laughed into the kiss he planted on Aziraphale's temple.

More tears came as Aziraphale pulled each frame out of the box. Crowley had done the prints in various sizes. Some were in single frames, others were in collages. Two 5x7's showed the moment Crowley proposed and the moment he pulled Aziraphale for a kiss after saying yes. Thank you to Astra, their kind stranger at St. James park. Aziraphale sent another blessing their way, hoping they were doing well during the holiday. He spent a long time gazing at their selfie from Solstice, their eyes wet from crying, but bright and sparkling in the firelight, matching manicured hands held up in front of beaming smiles to showcase their rings.

"Crowley…" he sniffed.

"I thought we could put them up around the house. Maybe hang some on the wall and put a bunch on shelves and shit. Y-y-you know, like families do."

"I can't tell you how much these mean to me." He held one of the photos to his chest. "They're all so lovely. It's…it's like a little story of our past few months. And our future." Aziraphale thought of how much their lives had changed in the few months that were captured in these photo and how much happiness they experienced because of those changes. "Such a beautiful and hopeful story they tell, Crowley."

"I was hoping you'd see them that way." They sat together and admired their gifts, speaking softly for some time.

"Oh! I forgot something," Aziraphale said, getting up. He went over to his knitting basket and pulled out what looked like a bundle of yarn before returning to sit next to Crowley. "I made us stockings," he said brightly, unfurling his own.

Crowley took his in his hand and marveled at the handiwork. "You're a magician with yarn, love. This Celtic knot design is stunning."

"Thank you, my dear," Aziraphale said shyly. He held up the green stocking. "I chose this color for the baby because it reminds me of the green of tiny new sprouts on your plants."

"Oh, I love that. Our little sprout." He cupped his hand over his belly.

Aziraphale carefully hung the stockings by the fireplace. They cuddled together on the sofa and spoke of their happiness and their hopes for the coming year.

Getting up to head to bed, Aziraphale looked out the window. "No sign of Father Christmas, yet. The sky is rather clear. No white Christmas tomorrow. Would be lovely, though," he said wistfully.

They shut down the lights and the fire. Aziraphale puttered into the kitchen to tend to the few plates and glasses that had accumulated during their evening. Crowley followed and headed to the back door.

"Just gonna grab fresh air and peek at the stars. Maybe flip the bird to Dasher if St. Nicky boy flutters by. I'll be right back."

He stepped onto the cold patio and looked up at the sparkling sky. "Please," he said as he continued to look upward. "Just a little snow for him. Enough to coat the ground, but not disturb the roads." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Opening them, he exhaled and watched the billowy vapor from his mouth float far upward toward the stars. He smiled as his breath expanded over the sky, creating fluffy clouds, fat with the flakes they were about to drop. He sat to let dizziness pass before returning to the kitchen. Aziraphale would have his white Christmas.

He found the angel in their bedroom, turning down the covers. "I have something to show you," Crowley said, opening a drawer in his bureau and pulling out an envelope with the name of the print service on it. He plunked himself on the bed.

"When I printed out all of the photos, I was a bit careless. Just clicked on things willy nilly. Turns out, I also printed these," he pulled photos out of the envelope and held them to his chest like a spread of winning cards. "Now, don't panic. No one else saw them - I made sure of it."

Aziraphale gulped as Crowley handed him the photos. "Oh. Oh dear. These are…oh my." He leafed through, taking in the images of himself and Crowley from Solstice. They were the photos of the two of them in the throes of their most carnal moments that night. Aziraphale felt mildly embarrassed at first, but then he felt quite proud and seriously turned on. Crowley looked like divinity and every bit of a temptation. "You are a literal Queen of the Heavens," he whispered.

He'd quite like to have these photos of Crowley for his own enjoyment. The kind of enjoyment where your lover is out of the house for the day, but you need something to alleviate the ache in your trousers. He smiled. He was also struck by the photos of himself. Crowley managed to capture him beautifully as he always does. Aziraphale admitted that he looked rather hot with his head framed by stars and firelight, his face crafted into an expression of fiery pleasure. Such erotic beauty from both of them, he thought.

He looked at Crowley, whose expression matched that of when he watched the angel eat.

"What do you think?"

"I think I'm rather glad that you had such a 'careless' moment with our photos. I quite enjoy these. They are rather inspiring."

"Mmmm. What do they inspire?" Crowley's Amber eyes were piercing the angel.

"Lust," Aziraphale breathed. He looked down at the bulge in his pyjamas.

"I believe I can take care of that," Crowley whispered as he straddled Aziraphale's lap, taking the photos out of his hand and unceremoniously tossing them on the nightstand.

"Why don't you show me how Santa stuffs stockings," he said into Aziraphale's open mouth, closing it into a kiss before both of their eyes widened and they laughed.

"That was the worst one yet, my dear. You've outdone yourself." Aziraphale was overcome with giggles.

"Right. This from the angel who once referred to his dick as Sir Lance-a-cock." Crowley laughed.

"That was one time, Crowley!"

They huddled in their fit of giggles and laughter until the lust overtook them and clothes were strewn and windows fogged.

"Twelve," Crowley gasped, clutching onto Aziraphale, who panted with his face buried in the demon's chest. They were nearly hanging off the side of the bed and Crowley blinked rapidly to regain his vision.

Aziraphale raised his head. "One orgasm for each day of Christmas. Well done, my dear. Quite festive." He wiped sweat from his eyes.

"Which Christmas ghost am I? Past, present, or future? Maybe Jacob Marley. Surely, I've died."

"With the way you were moaning, I'd say all four at once." Aziraphale kissed one curve of Crowley's chest. "Snacks?"

"Please. There is not a single calorie left in my body."

They shared the tray of fruits, cheese, biscuits, and post-coital orange juice that Aziraphale had brought in from the kitchen. Winding down for the night, Aziraphale asked if he could read to Crowley, to which the demon agreed.

He got up to retrieve his brown bag and pulled out a large book. "I brought this from the shop. First edition. Signed by the man himself," he said, settling back into the bed. "Though I do have the original first print from the Troy Sentinel as well as a handwritten letter version, but those are too delicate to travel."

Crowley snuggled alongside Aziraphale, laying his head on his chest and sinking into the sound of the angel's low and deep voice as it reverberated out of him, the vibrations tickling Crowley's cheek. This was the ultimate in comfort and happiness he thought as the angel's voice continued on.

"...The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,
Gave a lustre of midday to objects below,
When what to my wondering eyes did appear,
But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny rein-deer…"

Crowley envisioned this scene a year from now - cuddled in bed with Aziraphale and his book, a baby cradled in his arms, dozing to the sound of Papa's voice.

"…Happy Christmas to all and to all a good night!"

Aziraphale gently snapped the book closed with a flourish and placed it on top of the spicy photos on the nightstand.

Crowley looked up at him with half-lidded eyes and reached to give him a kiss. "Happy Christmas, love. Get some rest."

"Happy Christmas, my dear boy," he kissed the bed of red waves at his chest and pulled the covers up and over the demon's sharp freckled shoulders. He unknowingly had shared a similar vision as Crowley - the two of them cuddled up in bed together next Christmas Eve with his "A Visitation From Saint Nicholas" book in his hands as he read to Crowley and the tiny infant nursing at his chest. He couldn't wait. For now, he'd listen to his love and settle in for his winter's nap.

Chapter Text

"Crowley, look out the window!" Aziraphale said from the armchair, where he had been knitting. Crowley slept a bit later this morning than the previous few. Aziraphale had slept as well, but he woke hours ago and decided to work on some warm winter hats for himself and Crowley.

Crowley sat up and strained his long neck to see out the window. "Well, fuck me. It snowed!" he exclaimed as he slipped out of bed to get a closer look. He embraced the pride that surged into his chest.

A plush layer of snow blanketed the ground as far as the eye could see. However, the winding road leading away from the cottage remained untouched. Just as he had asked.

"Well, looks like there was a little Christmas magic after all." He kissed Aziraphale. "Good morning. Happy Christmas."

"Happy Christmas, darling. Isn't it marvelous?" Aziraphale asked, his smile as bright as the snow outside. "Perhaps we could go for a walk later? Even if it's just out in the garden?"

"I'd love that," Crowley yawned. "Now, you stay out of the kitchen this morning."

Aziraphale began to protest, but Crowley put a finger to the angel's lip.

"No. Nope. Not today, Satan. You will listen to me and that delectable bum will remain out of the kitchen until I say so. Hmm?" He raised his eyebrows. Crowley picked up his pyjamas from where they had been strewn on the floor and slipped them back on.

"Yes, dear." He settled back into his knitting as his pyjama-clad lover sauntered out of the room.

Crowley tied his favorite apron around his waist. It was simply a full body print of the sculpted torso, peen included, of Michaelangelo. Aziraphale had made a show of groaning and rolling his eyes when Crowley first debuted it and the demon jokingly admonished him for not supporting the arts. Crowley smiled at the memory as he adjusted the tie around his neck and smoothed the apron down his torso. Aziraphale was the primary cook in the family, but that didn't mean Crowley lacked skills. He was very adept, especially since cooking often made use of precision and mathematics - his favorites. He put the kettle on for tea.

Though he'd still get waves of nausea each day, they were brief and Crowley had felt better than he had in weeks during the past few days. He could feel just a smidge of energy coming back, too, as the bone deep exhaustion lessened. Most of that energy was reserved for fucking, which he felt was an exceptional use of it. Crowley was intimately connected with the rhythms of pregnancy and was well aware that this energy would wane again in a few months before the baby arrived. He'd use what he could now.

Aziraphale had taken such good care of him and the least Crowley could do, besides incubate a baby, was make him a wee Christmas breakfast. He was even going to try not to eat half of it before Aziraphale got to the kitchen.

He got to work, whisking his ingredients into submission in a bowl and heating a small amount of butter on the flat cast iron skillet. He poured out his batter and skillfully swirled the pan. He repeated the process over and over and over again until he had a large stack of crepes. He tested one for science and then a second and third to confirm his results, as a proper scientist would. Perfection, even without any filling.

He had gathered a variety of fillings - Aziraphale's favorite jams, preserves, fruits, and Nutella - so his angel would have a fine assortment to choose from. Each crepe was artfully folded just so. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in an attempt to still himself from trying to line up each edge perfectly. He won that battle. He layered the crepes on one of their fancy plates and set the table. He clunked a bowl of powdered sugar down and went off to find his angel.

Aziraphale was standing in front of the fireplace in their bedroom. "Ah! I took the liberty of hanging your portrait. I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all." Crowley was in love with the portrait and was quite pleased with its new place of honor. He'd have to get used to being awestruck every time he looked at it. “It looks great there - perfect placement.”

"I've also been planting all of the photos you've given me around the cottage." He pointed to a frame on his nightstand. "They're in here, in the parlour, the library, and the sitting room. I am certain we will add more throughout the entire house as time goes on. " He shook his hands in the air.

"I love it. I can't wait for more, Angel. Come on, let's go eat."

"You made me crepes!! Oh, Crowley!" Aziraphale exclaimed, taking his seat at the table. He was incredibly touched.

"Just a sweet little breakfast indulgence for my angel," Crowley said as he poured tea for Aziraphale and gave him a happy kiss on his head.

The kitchen was filled with Aziraphale's usual sounds of delight when he ate a fine meal, his shoulders wiggling and eyes closing as he savored each delicious bite. "Crowley, these are positively scrumptious. Better than any in Paris." He loved when Crowley cooked. The demon knew what he was doing in the kitchen.

When breakfast was done, Aziraphale attempted to help clean up and wash the dishes, but Crowley patted his bum and ushered him out of the kitchen, kissing him under the mistletoe for good measure.

"And no stealth miracles, either," Crowley called after him.

"Wouldn't dream of it, my dear." Crowley was certainly not nurturing - oh not at all, the angel thought and laughed.

Crowley was pleased with himself, happy that he was able to spoil and feed his angel. He cleaned the entire kitchen and even rearranged the pantry and refrigerator for good measure. He was already thinking of lunch. He had an intense craving for sandwiches.

He wandered through the cottage and looked at all of the photos that Aziraphale had scattered through the rooms. He thought of what guests might think the next time they had visitors and smiled at the idea of their dear friends seeing evidence of their happy moments.

He found Aziraphale knitting in an armchair in the parlour, the Christmas tree aglow with lights and Crowley's star atop it. The gramophone played old Christmas carols.

"Whatchya making today?" He perched on the edge of the sofa.

"Hats!" Aziraphale peered at him over his spectacles. "What do you think about taking a nice nature walk after lunch? Explore a bit? Frolic in the snow?"

"I'm known for my frolicking, Angel. Top demonic frolicker, me. I'd love to go for a walk with you."

"Excellent! Your hat is already made and I am just finishing up mine. I know we already have some, but this wool is so soft and warm, I couldn't resist."

Crowley smiled. "Before lunch, I may have something else that's soft and warm that you can't resist." He winked. "After you're done knitting of course."

Aziraphale smashed his knitting into the basket and jumped up from his seat. "I'm actually all done," he said, leaning over a chuckling Crowley on the sofa. "I'm interested in your offer of something soft and warm."

"Mmmm. It's gone from warm to rather hot suddenly," Crowley purred as the angel pulled off his trousers. He laid back and swung a long leg up on the back of the sofa, the other one propped on Aziraphale's shoulder.

Aziraphale knelt between Crowley's long legs and took in the soft, pink lips that were already soaked and pulsing for him. His tongue was parting those lips in a flash, licking them up and swiping at Crowley's clit.

"Fuck, Angel, fuck," Crowley moaned. He pulled at Aziraphale's hair while his lover expertly ate him out, lifting his hips to indulge in their new favorite tongue fucking activity. His high-pitched cries mingled with the voice of a crooner from more than half a century ago. "Fuck me. Hard."

Aziraphale grabbed both of Crowley's legs and propped them on his shoulder as he sunk down into him, letting out a low growl. He bent Crowley's knees further back, towards the demon's ears. Crowley was remarkably flexible and, for that, Aziraphale was grateful. He obeyed Crowley's command and snapped his hips into him, pounding hard and quickly working up a sweat.

Crowley's cries became higher and higher. He scratched new stripes onto Aziraphale's back when the angel repeatedly hit deep within him, very close to his cervix, which brought howls forth from Crowley, who loved that sensation. The sound of skin slapping against skin danced in echoes through the room.

It was quick. It was filthy. It was exactly what they needed. They both roared to a sweaty climax, Aziraphale filling Crowley deep inside. His back was burning from the scratches left by the demon.

"That hit the spot. Literally." Crowley laughed. He was pleased that his plan for Aziraphale to spend Christmas resting, eating, and fucking had worked so far.

They indulged in a little post coital snuggle and snog before eating lunch - sandwiches a la’ Crowley - and heading to the bedroom to get properly dressed for the outing they planned.

"Oh, Angel, your back," Crowley said, running his fingers down the length of Aziraphale's strong back. He was covered in new scratches.

Aziraphale checked in the mirror. "One of my most favorite works of art." He smiled at his reflection. Ever since they began having sex, one of Aziraphale's favorite side effects were the marks Crowley left on him, whether from his nails or his mouth or the occasional bowtie around his wrists. He was proud of them and he found the idea of people looking at his otherwise stuffy gentlemanly presentation not knowing about the marks that lay under his perfectly starched shirts quite titillating. It was one of the first aspects of himself as a sexual being that he had embraced.

They both dressed in heavy jumpers - Aziraphale in a deep hunter green and Crowley in a majestic purple. Crowley wore his maternity jeans and, after much pouting and a spot of temptation, convinced Aziraphale to wear a pair of dark grey jeans. He felt victorious. Aziraphale felt strange and out of place and maybe a bit sexy.

"Look at your ass!" Crowley exclaimed as he turned Aziraphale to look at his bum in the mirror. "I want to bury my face in it. And these look just as good on your thighs as your regular trousers. Absolute slut. I love it." Crowley was an expert at making Aziraphale feel attractive no matter what he wore.

They finished bundling up in sensible outerwear, including newly knitted hats, and made their way to the Bentley. They decided on exploring Birling Gap and Seven Sisters, the beauty of which never grew old for them. Crowley’s snow had made it out there, leaving a thin glittery blanket along the landscape. They walked along the top of the cliffs first, their boots crunching through the snow. Crowley fell a few steps behind and Aziraphale found himself pelted with a rather sad snowball when he turned to look for him.

"Didn't make the good snowball kind of snow," Crowley said, trying to make yet another ball, but finding it falling apart. He lobbed it at Aziraphale anyway.

"My dear," Aziraphale reached down to pick up a handful of snow. Using the advantage of his miracles, he formed a perfect ball. "You're normally much better at handling balls than this." He darted closer to Crowley to take aim and fire. The demon zigged and zagged, but Aziraphale's aim was precise and he succeeded in nailing the demon.

"Unfair advantage!" Crowley yelled, laughing. "Unfair advantage! Foul. You used a miracle. Poor pregnant me had to rely on this shit snow." He brushed the snow off of his coat. "You got your wish. I frolicked. Don't tell anyone." They laughed together and continued their walk until Crowley stopped again.

"I hate to be the one to do this, Aziraphale, but I'm going to need you to lay down and make a snow angel. It's the right thing to do."

Aziraphale chuckled. "Only if you do it with me."

The two of them lay in the snow, making their angels. Aziraphale helped Crowley back to standing. He clicked his tongue when the demon bent down to draw horns on his own snow angel. Crowley drew a heart with a "A+C" written inside before taking a picture of the entire scene.

Aziraphale noted that several of the Exmoor ponies that were out for their winter graze had followed them. They watched them use their hooves to kick up the snow and root for the grass and vegetation beneath. Two of the ponies approached them quite closely - they were especially interested in Crowley. Crowley spoke softly to them.

“Fuck,” Aziraphale muttered. He forgot his camera. “No matter,” he whispered. He held out his hand and his camera appeared, loaded with his new film and ready for use. He snapped the first pictures that camera had taken in 50 years. Crowley stood face to face with the two curious ponies, their bodies covered in very thick winter fur. Crowley was able to reach out and stroke them down their noses.

“Don’t know if we’re meant to pet them, but they asked. Can’t say no to a pony.”

Aziraphale noted that he felt calm, not overly protective, because nature seemed to bend to Crowley, especially now that he was pregnant. Like Crowley, he could sense that these ponies were gentle and curious and even a bit reverent towards the creature in front of them. He continued to snap photos.

“Bye, ponies,” Crowley said, giving them each one last vigorous pet down the nose. He pointed to one of the them. “She and I have something in common.”

“Oh?”

“She’s in foal,” he explained. “Early Spring baby for her.” He clenched at the thought of delivering something that large.

They continued their walk along the cliffs, stopping now and then for Aziraphale to take photos. They eventually made their way down stairs that led all the way to the beach. Again, Crowley’s nature connection was at play as the ocean remained calmer than usual when the waves approached him. He walked along the water’s edge while Aziraphale snapped photos.

Aziraphale thought back to their last visit to the beach on a blustery day many weeks ago, when Crowley had retched into the ocean and ended his brief love affair with peanut butter. Now, the demon walked along the beach with more energy, having been well-fed and able to keep his food down.

Crowley was quiet as he stopped to look out over the ocean. Aziraphale wondered if his anxiety was beginning to grow again as they had their ultrasound appointment the next day. He knew Crowley would be anxious and would begin to withdraw a little bit until they saw their baby on the screen. Crowley turned to look at him and smiled as if to reassure him. Aziraphale took one more picture before approaching him and putting an arm around his back. Crowley leaned into the angel, turning to kiss him. They stood together silently, enjoying the beauty around them, occasionally sharing kisses, watching as the sun lowered itself closer to the horizon.

They made their way back to the stairs, slowly climbing up and stopping at the top platform to wait for the sunset. They were all alone. Crowley laid a kiss on Aziraphale’s cheek and then another on his ear.

“Are you nervous for tomorrow?” Aziraphale asked.

“Little bit, yeah. Are you?” He had taken his glasses off as it was evident that no one else would be around. His citrine eyes searched Aziraphale's.

“I know this ultrasound will go splendidly. I'm quite looking forward to it.” Aziraphale gave him a bright smile.

“That’s not what I asked, Angel.”

Aziraphale looked down at his gloved hands. "Oh." He should knit them more gloves, he thought. “I suppose I am, rather. Nervous, that is. Not…not that I have any reason to be…” He felt Crowley’s hand snake around his back. He rested his head on Crowley’s shoulder and took a deep breath of the refreshingly cold air. They watched the sunset in silence until Crowley turned to him and brought their lips together for a deep kiss.

"You're allowed to be nervous, Angel." Crowley's eyes scanned the skies to find the stars that had begun to twinkle as the sun's light finally slipped away.

"I know, my dear. We'll weather our nerves together." He took Crowley's hand in his. He didn’t want to talk about his own nerves at the moment so he changed the subject. “You’re 12 weeks today,” he said cheerfully. “Baby is the size of a plum. And…and you’re at the end of your first trimester.”

“A little sugarplum,” Crowley chuckled. “Christ. We’re at the end of it already? Feels like I just pissed on those sticks yesterday.” He looked down toward his belly, which was hidden under his layers. “So much has changed since then, hasn’t it?” He chuckled again. “Probably have eaten more in these past few weeks than in my entire life.” He yawned. “Knackered as all fuck.”

"Ready to head home? I'm sure you and the baby could use some supper and rest."

"Starving, Angel." Crowley led him by the hand to the car. Despite Crowley being starved and tired, they made out like two teenagers before Crowley turned the ignition on and headed home.

Aziraphale walked into the sitting room when they returned. "I completely forgot! Someone appeared in our house overnight and left some scrummy treats in our stockings. He wiggled his fingers together.

"Oooh, bougie chocolates," Crowley said as he pulled the sweets out of his stocking. "These will last about 5 minutes. Thank you, Papa Christmas.” He winked at Aziraphale.

Their Christmas evening wound down with a ham dinner cooked by Crowley and devoured by both of them, not a leftover in sight. Aziraphale declared that Crowley should cook more because everything he made was done to perfection. Crowley kicked him out of the kitchen as he cleaned up.

"But it's Christmas," Aziraphale said softly, "you shouldn't be expected to - "

Crowley held a hand up. "Can't hear you. Go," he waved his hands, "do some angely relaxy thingie." He swatted at Aziraphale's bum with a dish towel.

They sat together later that evening on the sofa in front of the fire, Aziraphale with his knitting and Crowley with both of their stockings in his lap, his feet propped on Aziraphale's thighs. He was sampling all of the chocolates.

"The snow was a nice touch today," Aziraphale said, looking at him through his lashes.

"Thnow. Nithe. Mmhm," was Crowley's answer as he licked chocolate off his fingers.

Aziraphale smiled. "I thank you for it. Everything looked beautiful out there today." He cast a new color yarn onto his needles and concentrated on his work. The sound of fire cracking, soft Christmas music, and the clicking of Aziraphale's needles was peppered with the noise of Crowley unwrapping sweets and re-wrapping the ones he didn't like. Aziraphale found it all quaint and amusing. His evil and fierce silly demon.

"Very kind of you to force me to rest, my dear. Sometimes, these days, I forget how to do that. Or I don't let myself. It's been nice. You are a very nurturing fellow when you want to be."

"Ngk. Gross. Don't do that." He tossed half empty stockings onto the coffee table and settled back into the arm of the sofa. "Not nurturing. I just like certain people. You're one of them."

"Oh, is that it?" A corner of Aziraphale's mouth stretched up into a smile. He sighed.

"Mmm. Plus hormones. They've got me all wibbly wobbly." He patted his belly.

"Ah." Aziraphale pursed his lips. Despite all of the work he's done, there was an edge to Crowley that was still uncomfortable with his growing softness. Truth be told, Aziraphale liked many of his rough edges and hoped they never disappeared. His wish, however, was that Crowley could relax into the soft places that would repair his need to be alert and on the defensive at all times. Those particular edges could go, the Angel thought, as Crowley eventually found comfort in the safety they fought so hard to achieve.

After some silence, Crowley asked, "Bath?"

"A bath would be lovely. Should we have a bath first…or…? He raised his eyebrows.

Crowley smiled. "Slut." He got up and offered Aziraphale his hand.

Aziraphale carefully set his knitting into the basket and took Crowley's hand.

In bed, an already-naked Crowley took his time with Aziraphale, offering small kisses to each peek of chest revealed as he slowly undid the angel's pyjama buttons. He pulled his shirt off and rested his nose in the center of Aziraphale's chest and thought this must be what a Santa Claus would smell like - warm, comforting, sweet. He ran his fingers through the blanket of soft curls and twirled a finger around one flushed nipple, bringing his tongue to the other.

Aziraphale lightly caressed the back of Crowley's neck with his fingertips. Tiny electric jolts danced their way from his nipples to his cock, inspiring it to wake up and begin stiffening. He exhaled a soft moan of his demon's name.

Crowley drew the tip of his tongue in a line up the angel's chest to his neck and finally into his mouth, where it met and swirled with Aziraphale's tongue. Crowley was settled between Aziraphale's legs and he rolled his hips as if he was fucking him, moaning from the pressure up against his clit.

The dwindling fire cast a very faint glow through the room. It wouldn't matter if it was completely dark, Crowley thought, Aziraphale would still manage to glow. Pulling off from their kiss, he looked at his love's face. "I know I say this at least 350 times a day, but you truly are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen."

"Three hundred and fifty one," Aziraphale said along a breathy laugh. He tucked a stray ginger lock behind Crowley's ear and then kissed that same spot. "You must not look in the mirror that often or you'd say the same of yourself."

Crowley smiled. "So cheesy." He kissed him. "Never stop."

"I quite like cheese."

Crowley met his gaze. "You can't get me all hungry when I'm trying to fuck you, Angel."

"There's plenty to eat right here in this bed." He murmured and nipped at Crowley's neck.

Crowley laughed. "Indeed." He left a trail of kisses all the way down Aziraphale's torso until he found himself at the center of his beautiful thighs, worshiping them with licks and kisses before rolling his tongue around the tip of Aziraphale's cock. He played with the frenulum, teasing it with his tongue.

Since they were both hungry, they should both eat, the demon thought. Crowley rotated himself and backed up to straddle his legs over Aziraphale's head, lowering his cunt over his face. He leaned down to bring his attention back to the angel's cock. Good ol' 69 or, as Aziraphale would often call it, 79.

Crowley tongued the foreskin in his mouth, working the tip just under it. He moved it up and over the glans and back again to deeply guttural moans from the angel, moans that vibrated on Crowley's clit. The demon matched him with his own moaning. Long, heavy licks were dragged up the shaft until Crowley took the entire length of Aziraphale inch by inch until the tip had reached its way deep in his throat.

Aziraphale growled loudly into Crowley’s cunt. His tongue was moving in broad stripes from clit to hole and back. Crowley was soaking wet and the angel's lips, chin, and cheeks already glistened with a sheen of his arousal. He ran his fingers along the lips and teased a circle around the hole. Aziraphale slowly and carefully bucked his hips, driving his cock in and out of Crowley’s mouth. He was aching to fill the demon’s throat. Well-placed pressure from a finger on his taint caused him to cry out onto the pink folds at his lips. He hungrily lapped at them before spreading them wide with his fingers and bringing his tongue to explore inside Crowley’s opening. He stretched one finger to his clit, rapidly tracing it finger over the hardened nub. The tell tale flutters and rhythmic clenching of Crowley’s release began and Aziraphale hummed the sounds of his own pleasure against him.

Crowley rocked his hips at Aziraphale's face, never releasing his cock from his mouth. He bobbed his head up and down and cried out from his orgasm around the shaft, keeping it tight within his mouth while his thighs shook in Aziraphale's grip. He popped off to growl, "cum down my throat." Crowley worked his mouth and tongue together up and down the angel's length, sucking and licking, spit and precum mixing to coat the shaft. He met each of Aziraphale's thrusts with a downward slide of his mouth. Another finger to the sweet soft spot on his taint caused the angel to hiss and bite the tender flesh inside Crowley's thigh. Crowley kept his mouth at work and answered by digging his nails into the angel's own plush flesh, leaving red crescents that claimed Aziraphale for him.

Aziraphale felt the rush of energy spread out from his belly and down toward his cock as his muscles began to tighten and his thrusts into that skilled hot mouth quickened. He thrust his tongue into Crowley's hole to match the rhythm in his hips. Crowley was grinding his pussy down onto him, his whimpering noises increasing as a second climax was about to descend upon him. Aziraphale was determined to meet his orgasm with Crowley's. The tell tale pulsing from his balls signaled he would be successful.

Crowley felt like he was going to black out from the sensation of his orgasm breaking through him from the work of Aziraphale's fingers and tongue coupled with the rock hard cock twitching a strong shot of cum into the back of his throat. He gagged with his cry, which just made it hotter for both of them, Aziraphale's own sobbing moans echoed against his. He rode the angel's face frantically while sucking every last drop of him into his mouth and then licking up and down the entire dick. He dropped his head onto the soft strength of his thigh.

Aziraphale kissed the spot where he had bitten, over the red indentations from his teeth. His hands caressed Crowley’s ass, now ever so slightly more plush from pregnancy - something that aroused an ancient primal part of Aziraphale.

Crowley dismounted from Aziraphale’s head and turned so that he was back to laying on him face to face. He pressed their lips together and rolled to bring Aziraphale on top of him, spreading his hips wide and bringing his legs around the angel’s back with a tight grip.

Aziraphale was quite happy that angels don't have to fuss with refractory periods. He was immediately hard again, the head of his cock straining at Crowley's opening, pushing through slowly in one smooth, languid stroke. “I love you very much, my beautiful Demon,” he whispered with a kiss to Crowley's ear. The drag out, with the sensation of Crowley’s muscles clenched around him with such glorious friction, was equally slow and languid. Aziraphale kept that dreamy gentle pace, taking the opportunity to relish each plush inch of Crowley inside as the demon’s body happily yielded to him. They exhaled their moans into each other's mouths with their kissing, eyes open and searching one another.

Crowley found his gaze drifting to the fireplace and his portrait hanging above it, illuminated by the gentle orange glow of the fire. Something about feeling Aziraphale move so deep and so gently within him while looking at the portrait of his own pregnant body drawn in adoration filled his heart and ignited something within his center. It was both erotic and emotionally charged. That thought, coupled with the fact that this was their first Christmas together as a family in their own home where Aziraphale was currently worshiping him with his own divine body, allowed yet another broken Crowley piece to be healed. Crowley felt it as an upwelling of emotion that surged through his body along with his pleasure and it began to break through him as tears in his eyes and low-pitched sobs. He hugged his arms around the angel's shoulders tighter.

Aziraphale kissed his eyes and the tears pooling on his cheeks. "Are you alright, darling?"

"I love you so fucking much, Angel." His breath shuddered. "I'm okay. Please don't stop." He pressed their foreheads together and held Azirphale's face, a move that would forever remind them of when they conceived their baby. In this moment, Aziraphale was creating Heaven for both of them and he was happily being carried off.

Aziraphale alternated between kisses and words of adoration at Crowley's ear, his own eyes becoming wet with emotion. The angel cradled Crowley's shoulders in his arms, pressing them even closer together as he continued to carry their bodies in their leisurely sway until their orgasms soared through them and they melted into one another with cries carried on heavy breaths. He laid dozens of kisses on Crowley's face until the demon caught his lips and his tongue teased them.

Crowley kissed him gently and deliberately, sucking on Aziraphale's soft bottom lip, their noses brushing together. His fingers found Aziraphale's hair and gave a gentle tug. His other hand teased caresses up and down the angel’s spine. Their hearts pounded together in their pressed chests and Crowley wondered if his was communicating the overwhelming love he wanted to pour into every press of their lips, every glide of his hand along the angel’s skin, into the way his most private muscles still held tight to Aziraphale’s cock. The joining of their bodies was always a sacred act and loving Aziraphale was an act of benediction to Crowley.

“I love you, my darling. My king. My Goddess.” Aziraphale whispered, bringing a new set of tears to Crowley’s eyes. “The only Mother that matters in my universe.”

Crowley would normally feel an erotic rush at such blasphemy, but something about that combination of words tonight brought forth a euphoria that he didn’t quite understand, but left him with a sense of affirmation and a lump in his throat. “Angel…”

With their bodies pressed together so tightly, Aziraphale was heavily aware of how different Crowley felt, even from just a few days ago. The swellings at his chest and his belly now firmly squeezed up against Aziraphale’s own soft chest and belly. Aziraphale slipped out and shimmied down the bed, bringing his head to Crowley’s belly. This little bump only appeared nearly two weeks ago, yet it had already changed and grown. Such a roundness to the demon would soon be undeniable no matter what he wore, a fact that brought pride to the angel. It would be obvious who did that to Crowley. His breath shuddered over his hand, which was cradling the bump. The kisses he laid there were laced with blessings for both the child and Crowley, an act that had become routine.

Crowley intertwined his fingers into those at his belly, gazing down at his lover as he felt the warmth and ether-piercing power of the angel’s blessings travel to their child. How fortunate the three of them were to be able to have this. He sighed with a contentment that he was still learning to accept. Too tired to indulge in a bath, he welcomed Aziraphale into his arms to snuggle his head at his breasts, happy to coax him into a deep sleep.

The drive to the birth center was quiet and occasionally broken by small talk about a pretty snowy meadow or the way the traffic flowed. After such a beautiful night, Crowley had woken up with anxiety chewing a hole into his stomach. He struggled with his appetite and then threw up what he had managed to eat, moreso out of nervousness than any lingering morning sickness.

Aziraphale was excited to see their child on the screen, a fact he kept to himself. Also kept to himself was his worry over Crowley and his anxiety. He knew the ultrasound would go well, but his own trepidation centered around whether Crowley would experience another anxiety attack like he had a few nights ago. He hadn’t wanted to share that with the demon because he didn’t want to make him feel bad about it. Aziraphale was happy that Crowley spoke of therapy - perhaps it would help them both. He desperately wanted to see Crowley free of the chains of his trauma. He rubbed his thumbs repeatedly on the steering wheel as they drove - Crowley didn’t want to handle the long drive with the way his stomach felt.

Crowley gripped the edge of the seat and closed his eyes, drawing his breaths deep and letting them out slowly through his mouth. It didn’t calm the pounding of his heart as Aziraphale made the turn into the birth center parking lot. He bounced one of his legs rapidly. Aziraphale took his hand after turning off the ignition. He squeezed the angel’s fingers.

Anathema was standing at the doorway. The birth center was closed to appointments as it was Boxing Day, but another midwife was just leaving after having attended a Christmas morning birth there the day before. It was set to be a busy few days as another couple would be coming on this day to bring their child into the world. Anathema was most excited to see her friends. She could sense the fear oozing off of Crowley before he exited the car. The emotion was evident as they approached, his face pale and pinched, his hand gripping Aziraphale’s with obvious force. “Good morning, guys,” she kept her voice cheery and light.

“Thank you for seeing us today, my dear. I know it should be a day off for you.” Aziraphale matched her cheery tone. Crowley stared into space.

“Anything for you two, always. I actually have another couple coming in later this morning or this afternoon. They called me at 3am when she realized she was in labor. First timers, so I may end up here for a while.” She yawned and turned to lead them in.

They entered the ultrasound room. “Can we do the scan first? Before you examine me?” Crowley asked. “I have to piss so bad already and I can’t take double the amount of time pressing down on me.” He thought he sounded much bitchier than he intended. “Please,” he added, sliding up onto the table. His heart was pounding so quickly and he wanted to cry. A familiar echoing in his ears started as he laid back. Aziraphale’s sure and strong hands were at his head, stroking him gently in an attempt to soothe him.

“Absolutely, Crowley.” Anathema sat on her stool. Her heart always broke seeing Crowley in this state. She was very skilled at meeting her patients where they were at and understanding their trauma. As a close friend, Crowley’s struggles with it affected her more deeply. She put her hand on his arm, feeling the tension in his muscles as she pulled the ultrasound machine closer. She moved quickly so as not to leave them waiting too long to see their baby on the screen. She knew the mood would change in just a moment, especially since the baby would look so different than what they had seen 4 weeks ago.

Crowley swallowed against the bile rising in his throat. The sharp edge of a full blown anxiety attack was leaning up against him, threatening to cut into him with force. He looked up into the calm ocean eyes of Aziraphale as he pulled the waistband of his pants down and felt Anathema tuck the little blue towel along the edge of it. He’d talked to her so candidly about sex, about his vagina, about orgasms, about everything his body felt, but he still tensed up at the feel of hands that did not belong to Aziraphale down there. His vision was like the static that he heard in his ears and he squeezed his eyes shut when he felt the cold gel on skin and the pressure from the transducer wand.

“Holy God! Crowley!” Aziraphale’s voice was heavy with wonder.

“You can look now, Crowley,” Anathema said softly.

Crowley opened his eyes to meet the vision on the screen. “Holy fuck,” he whispered. “There’s an actual baby there.”

There, in the swirly field of grainy black and white, was the image of their baby, who had grown and changed remarkably in the past four weeks. No longer a small being shaped like a kidney bean or gummi bear, they looked like an actual human - well, human-shaped in their case - baby. Arms, legs, head, belly, a spine, a nose, a mouth - everything was there, fully formed. That would have been magnificent enough, but what happened on screen was even more wondrous than they imagined. The baby was kicking, stretching their arms, arching their back, and rolling.

Crowley didn’t care to hold back. He full-on ugly cried at the sight of his beautiful baby, alive and literally kicking. He felt tears drop from Aziraphale’s eyes onto his forehead. Crowley had still been gripping Aziraphale’s hand tightly so he relaxed his fingers. His body flushed with the release of tension in all of his muscles, causing him to shake a little.

Anathema reached for a tissue box and handed it to them, taking one for herself. “Do you need a drink or a snack, Crowley?” she asked in regard to his shaking.

“No. No, not yet.” he sniffed. “Look at them, Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale leaned over him for an upside-down kiss. “Look at what you’ve done, my dear boy. They’re growing so well thanks to you.”

“Everything is fully-formed now. They’ve got everything they’ll need. This is always a fun time for an ultrasound because they still have so much room to roll and zip around like this.”

“It’s so weird they are moving this much and I can’t feel it.” Crowley couldn’t believe how lively they were. He often imagined them just laying there, lounging in his uterus, but this little one was fully into a gymnastics routine.

“They are still so small and the uterus is thick. You’ll probably start to feel something in five or six, maybe 7 weeks.”

“They’re quite the little Olympian, aren’t they? Rather energetic. I imagine they take after Daddy in that regard.” He rubbed Crowley’s shoulder.

“Look at the little nose and cheeks and everything. They’re a whole ass person,” Crowley whispered.

“That they are.” Anathema began pointing various bits out. “We can see their spine now. Their digestive tract will start to function this week. Here’s their little brain. Little fingers and toes.” She continued on. She pressed a button on the machine and red and blue swirls flashed. “This, this is your placenta, Crowley. The placenta fully takes over this week. No more corpus luteum. From now on, the exchange of oxygen and nutrients from your blood and the removal of waste from baby’s will happen here. We’re watching that flow now with the red and blue colors. Speaking of that connection,” she froze the screen, “we can make out the umbilical cord clearly here.”

The tiny little tether that connected the baby to Crowley meant everything to him in that moment. He wiped away more tears.

Anathema took various measurements and explained more of what they were seeing. “Baby is measuring perfectly. They are measuring 12 weeks, 2 days, which is 1 day ahead based on your conception date, but normal. And now we’ll put on the best music.” She clicked a button and the sound of the baby’s heart rate filled the room. “163 bpm. Textbook!” She grabbed another tissue.

After all measurements and anatomy checks were completed, they spent a long while just watching the baby on the screen, marveling at their stretches and kicks. The baby even put on a show of opening and closing their mouth and bringing their hand up to their face as if they were about to suck their thumb. Anathema took what seemed like a million pictures and recorded the screen. They were given very long strips containing all of the pictures and she emailed the video plus digital versions of pictures to Crowley, who immediately checked his phone to confirm that it went through.

After the ultrasound, Aziraphale wiped the gel from Crowley’s belly before he got up to run to the lavatory. He let out a long sigh when Crowley closed the door behind him.

“The anxiety was pretty bad, huh?” Anathema asked.

Aziraphale shook his head vigorously. “He made himself sick with it this morning. He’s barely eaten - and he vomited what he did eat,” he whispered. “I’ve been so anxious about him becoming this anxious. It’s a rather difficult cycle to navigate.”

Anathema drew him in for a hug.

“I can hear you both worrying about me, you know?” Crowley quipped as he pushed through the door. He hopped up onto the table. “Good to feel me up, midwife girl.” He was relieved, free of pee, and less stressed.

Anathema placed her hand on his arm again, even though she had just been touching him for the ultrasound. She had so much to say about his anxiety, but now was not the time. Crowley was completely relaxed. She took his vitals and had him lay back. She palpated his belly after he pulled his waistband down. “Wow. You just keep popping each time I see you. Your fundus is above your pelvic bone now. That will relieve some of the pressure on your bladder.”

“Thank fuck for that,” Crowley said.

“Everything feels great. I’m obsessed with this growing belly of yours. It’s so cute.”

“Never heard much of me described as cute, but I’ll allow it.”

“I see you’ve got quite a map of veins. Speaking of that, your progesterone is really going to start to increase this week. Coupled with the extra blood volume, please be mindful of staying hydrated and taking breaks often, especially if you feel dizzy. That’s a pretty common symptom with the progesterone and extra blood flow going into the second trimester.”

“Got it,” Crowley said, sitting up and adjusting his clothes. “Have you seen these tits?” he grabbed himself, “I think they had another growth spurt. They're firmer.”

Anathema laughed. “They’re lovely, Crowley. You’re probably producing colostrum by now, so they will likely feel a bit dense. Nothing will come out this early, as you know, but there’s lots of work going on inside them.”

They continued their discussion until Crowley’s hunger told them it was time to leave. Anathema received hugs from both of them.

They walked to the car, clutching their photos. Another car pulled up. They could hear low moans coming from the car as they shut the doors to the Bentley.

Crowley sighed and smiled. “Do you hear that?”

“Sounds like she is rather uncomfortable. That must be the mother in labor.”

“She sounds perfect. That's transition moaning. Just beautiful. Been a long time since I heard that.” Hearing a laboring person tickled an old part of his being.

“You can tell from the sounds of her moans?”

“Usually, yeah. There's variation because people are varied, but you develop an ear for certain things.” He craned his neck to watch them walk in. Anathema was jogging out to greet them. “Oh yeah, watch her walk. That baby is loooow. Good luck, luv.”

Aziraphale watched with him. He felt a bit nosey, but he was fascinated by this side of Crowley, not seen much since ancient times. “Those old instincts of yours come roaring back easily, don't they?”

“Must do. Always feels natural when I am around pregnant people or, you know, with myself. Oh, and when I read messages from the queer parents group. My midwife brain lights up easily. Oh….fuck. The group.”

“What is it?”

“The in-person meeting is tomorrow. I signed up to bring pastries and coffee. I nearly forgot.” He tapped his head. “Pregnancy brain is very real.” Crowley had been chatting on discord with the group and felt brave enough to agree to attend the in-person meeting. He had pledged several days ago to bring pastries, tea, and coffee. “Since we’re spending the night at the shop, I’ll grab it all from Nina’s tomorrow. I’ll talk to her today about it.”

“Let’s head to the shop then.” Aziraphale switched the ignition. “We’ll grab you some lunch first.”

“Let’s do the Stag and Huntsman. I can't wait much longer to eat.” Now that the anxiety and excitement had settled, he realized he was fairly weak and needed food quickly.

They had an enthusiastic conversation about the ultrasound over what turned out to be a very large lunch. Aziraphale broke his “no phones during meals” rule to watch a snippet of the ultrasound video. They both dabbed away at tears. Aziraphale's heart skipped when Crowley spoke with so much excitement about showing Nina and Maggie the pictures that afternoon.

Arriving in Soho, Crowley jumped out of the car. "I'll go tell Nina that they can come over. Meet you in the shop."

Aziraphale watched him walk across the street, swagger still very present and - he'll never tell Crowley he noticed - a bounce in his step.

"Anthony! So good to see you!" Nina's cafe was crowded with Boxing Day shoppers taking a lunch and caffeine break. She had been overwhelmed, but was happy to see Crowley. Happier still to see how Crowley looked. Dressed in his black leather maternity trousers, a cropped vintage Bowie concert t-shirt that barely skimmed his waistband, and combat boots, Crowley looked like a goth preggo. The waistband of his trousers accentuated the now very obvious bump. He looked like he was smuggling half a cantaloupe under there. His hips were still slinky, but she noted there was a definite softness to what was once so sharp. She couldn't help but notice that his chest was also filling out. On top of that, he was glowing and clearly happy.

"What can I get you, love? Have you had lunch?"

"We have, but some cheese Toasties won't hurt. And some of that devil cake for my angel cake, plus one of his froofy drinks. Surprise him." He drummed his hands on the counter. "Busy day?"

"Extremely," she answered. "Thankfully, my staff have stepped it up." She smiled at him. "I love this outfit. Give us a twirl."

Demons don't twirl, but Crowley did.

The corner of a newspaper just a few feet away dipped down as Mr. Brown observed Crowley. He hadn't seen them in a while. Crowley was quite obviously getting a bit paunchy. Happens with the drink, he thought. Poor Mr.Fell. They must be gone often to work on Crowley's rehab. He's was exceptionally giddy this afternoon. He wondered if rehab wasn't going that well because this man was obviously tipsy. Not one to eavesdrop, he couldn't but help overhear their conversation.

"So," Crowley began, "I am going to an in-person meeting for that group I told you about. It's my first meeting with them. They like to have pastries and coffee and tea and the like. Would I be able to pick some up from you tomorrow before we head out?"

"Of course! I'd love to have something ready for you tomorrow. I'm so proud of you for going to the meeting, Anthony." Crowley had told her about it at their Christmas dinner and admitted to feeling reluctant. "It's a big step."

Ah, Mr. Brown knew it. Crowley was going to a special meeting. The kind where they serve pastries and donuts and talk about steps. He knew exactly the type. He’d been to them before with an ex-partner. He knows the way such an addiction can drain a relationship. Poor, poor Mr. Fell. No wonder he had to take the reigns of the holiday party. Mr. Fell was dealing with this fellow, who obviously was falling much further into the bottle and God knows what else. Mr. Brown regarded Crowley with an inspector's eye. He was good at reading people - one must be to sell carpets and his business has been successful. This man here would normally at least throw a blazer on. Today, he’s in leather trousers and a crop top for goodness sakes. In the winter! And those boots. Must be reliving his punk years from the 70’s. Spiraling, obviously. Well, Mr. Brown thought, Mr. Fell is very protective of this man for now, so he will treat him respectfully. He got up and approached Crowley.

“Mr. Crowley! How have you been?”

“Oh, Mr. Brown. Soooo, good to see you darling.” Crowley began rubbing at his eye under his glasses with his left ring finger.

“I trust you had a good Christmas with Mr. Fell. Seems like someone got into all the mince pies. Where is Mr. Fell these days? I wanted to chat with him about the Whickber Street Traders and Shopkeepers Association meeting for next month. I have been very busy with the holiday party for our group and will need someone to lead the meeting next month.”

“Can we go back to the mince pies? Explain yourself.” Crowley loved being clocked as pregnant. He did not like people who commented on bodies in a rude way.

“Why…why…” Mr. Crowley suddenly seemed taller than usual. “Why, I certainly only meant that you look very healthy. We all like to indulge during the holidays. I meant no offense, my good man.”

Crowley grimaced. “Not good. Not your man. As for your meeting, you’ll need to talk that over with Mr. Fell. I should warn you, he is very busy.” He rubbed his eye with his left ring finger again, his engagement ring sparkling in the light. Gah, this daft man wasn't catching on.

“Very well then. I will try to catch up with him later. Perhaps I will call on him at the shop.”

“Whatever. Call on him. He's dying to hear from you.” He closed his eyes to stem the annoyance building up. “Mr. Brown, if you address me the way you did just now ever again, I won't be so gracious. Are we clear?”

Mr. Brown began to shake. This man was clearly under the influence of something. Look at how he can't stop touching his face. Such behavior could be frightening.

“Un-understood. My apologies once again. I hope to see you at the holiday party in a few days hence?”

“Oh, I will certainly be there. Wouldn't miss it for the world.” He flashed a killer smile, laced with as much terror as he could incite in the man. It was enough to make him stumble backwards. Oh, Crowley would be at the party. Dressed to kill any remaining hopes and dreams Mr. Brown still harboured.

Crowley turned his attention to Nina, who had just come back to the counter.

“Alright, I’ve got a list to go for tomorrow. Just pop over before you two head back. Was everything alright with Mr. Brown?” She pushed his bags of cheese Toasties, cake - extra for the baby and Crowley - and Aziraphale’s froofy drink, a white chocolate peppermint mocha.

“It’s fine. He needs to learn boundaries. Speaking of popping over…when you and Maggie are free, we have something to show you two.”

Nina’s smile took over her face. “Taking my break now! I’ll run over and get Maggie. Meet you there in a few.”

Crowley walked into the bookshop, bags and froofy drink in hand.

“What’s this?” Aziraphale stood up from his desk, tugging his waistcoat down.

“Cakes, toasties, and a pepperminty white something thingie.”

Aziraphale took a sip. “Oh, that's rather delicious. Are Maggie and Nina coming?”

“Yup. Few minutes. Mr. Brown may stop by. Something about his bloody meetings.”

“Yes, I saw he was there. I could see him talking to you. Was he a bother?” Truth was, Aziraphale had watched through the window, nose flaring, fists clenched, waiting for any sign of distress from Crowley. He would have been in the café in a flash. The surge of protectiveness he felt was rather frightening. It was familiar and ancient, a part of him that he’d rather not have to use.

“He was just being Mr. Brown. Annoying and clueless. No boundaries.” Crowley could smell the small fire of rage simmering in Aziraphale. He wasn't going to stoke it. His angel deserved to relax. Besides, Mr. Brown’s head would spin once he saw Crowley and his gorgeous lover at the party.

“Speaking of that, he mentioned the party. I need shoes and stockings to go with my outfit. If I draw what I want, can you miracle them for me?”

“Of course. Anything your heart desires.”

There was a knock at the door followed by the sound of the bells ringing as Nina and Maggie walked in. “Hello gentlemen!”

Maggie squealed when she saw Crowley. “Look at you! Awwww, you look so cute!”

“Again with the cute,” he muttered to Aziraphale.

“Perhaps you can embrace it, my cute little demon,” he pinched an offended demon’s cheek.

“Ngk. Ugh. Mnph.”

“Precisely, my dear.” He turned to Maggie and Nina. “Have a seat,” he gestured to the sofa and took his position, standing next to Crowley, who sat - if one could call the way he was draped over the chair “sitting” - in the armchair.

“Don't make us wait. At the dinner, Crowley and Anathema already told us his ultrasound was today. Hand over the goods.” Nina held her hands out.

Crowley thought his ears may actually be damaged from the amount of exited jabber and squealing that occurred when they showed them the pictures and the videos.

“That's a real baby! They don't look like a gummi bear anymore!” Maggie exclaimed.

“You can even see a little nose. And long legs like their daddy. I bet they’ve got the cutest little toesie wosies.” Nina was melting over the baby.

“Are you going to find out if you're having a boy or a girl next time?” Maggie asked.

“Oh, uh, well, we haven't quite discussed that.” Aziraphale looked at Crowley. Will the baby make an effort? That was a big question.

“Probably not. We’ll see at birth.” Crowley decided for them right there.

When the conversation wound down, Nina and Maggie invited them to dinner.

"It's called "Passyunk Avenue." Over in Fitzrovia. It's Philadelphia themed! Have you ever been to Philadelphia?" Maggie asked. "They have these things called cheesesteaks. You have to try them at least once."

"Ha. Philadelphians are a rare breed." Crowley mused. He would know. He invented them.

"We would be delighted, my dear. How's 5:30?"

"Perfect!"

Crowley walked Nina and Maggie to the door. He noticed Mr. Brown headed in the store's direction. He quickly turned and walked toward Aziraphale with purpose.

"Crowley?"

Crowley crashed his lips onto Aziraphale's mouth. Kissing him passionately and deeply.

Aziraphale was more than happy to indulge. When the bells rang once again and he noticed a newspaper-carrying gentleman in the doorway, he understood Crowley's game. Normally, he'd admonish such a petty demon, but Aziraphale was feeling a bit….oh what was that word Crowley loved to use….ah, yes, Cunty. He leaned up into the kiss, pawing at Crowley's head with one hand and his ass with the other. He even gave a performative moan.

Mr. Brown coughed dryly.

"Oh! Oh my word!" Aziraphale exclaimed, brushing down his waistcoat. "I hadn't noticed you there, Mr. Brown."

"He can't resist me. I'm sure you understand." Crowley walked over to the armchair and dropped down into it, swinging his leg over the arm, making sure to emphasize his spread legs.

Mr. Brown looked at Crowley. Such a lewd display, he thought. He cleared his throat. "I have just two small orders of business."

Aziraphale noticed the flash of…was it disgust?...something…in Mr. Brown's eyes when he looked at Crowley. He felt the protective anger begin to burn in his belly. "Go on, Mr. Brown." He sniffed. "I must warn you, we are frightfully busy this afternoon."

"I won't take but a moment of your time. First, the shopkeepers meeting next month is on the agenda. Now, I know you have been away often," he looked to Crowley, "but as I have had to spend much of my own time and effort on organizing this holiday party - a kind courtesy to you on my part - I haven't had the necessary time to plan next month's meeting. Would you be so kind as to do so, Mr. Fell?"

"I thank you for your gracious generosity in organizing the holiday party, Mr. Brown. That said, you are quite correct to assume I am very busy and I'm afraid I'm unable to commit to organizing or attending any meetings."

"Mr. Fell, may I remind you that the reason the Whickber Street Traders and Shopkeepers Association runs like a well-oiled machine is because everyone plays their part. When one of us stops putting the work in it leaves everyone else to pick up the slack. That's hardly fair, is it?" Mr. Brown puffed up his chest, a move that pissed Aziraphale off.

Crowley looked on, amused, but concerned about the anger he could feel from Aziraphale. It was also a massive turn on. He wasn't sure if he should laugh, intervene, or masturbate. Perhaps all three.

"Mr. Brown, I do not owe you an explanation, but I will give you a small one as a courtesy - an unexpected family matter has come up and that will require my full attention in the next few months." His lips were pulled in tight and he realized he was balling his fists. He puffed his own chest. "I am sure there is no need to remind you who owns all of the property on this street. Am I correct, Mr. Brown?"

Mr. Brown sighed in defeat, but kept his chin held high. "My apologies Mr. Fell. I am merely trying my best to keep things running smoothly for all of us. I shall drop the matter for the time being." He cleared his throat. "My next order of business is the holiday party. As you know, it is at the Dirty Donkey in two nights hence. I hadn't heard back from you, but Mr. Crowley here says you will be attending?"

"Correct."

"Excellent. I do want to issue one gentle reminder. The dress code is respectable," he looked at Crowley. "We're going for fancy holiday attire."

Aziraphale felt a snap. "Why did you just look at him?" He took a step toward Mr. Brown.

"I-I-I was simply sharing information with both of you. N-nothing personal." He wasn't used to whatever it was he was seeing in Mr. Fell's eyes.

"Why? Did.You.Look.At.Him?" Aziraphale growled and took more steps toward the frightened carpet man.

"Angel," Crowley stood and approached them. "Not worth it." He turned to Mr. Brown. "You should probably go. We'll see you at the party. Work on boundaries between now and then."

"No offense meant, gentlemen. I will see you in two nights." He quickly escaped out the door.

"What was that, Angel?"

"You saw the way he looked at you. It was in his eyes." Aziraphale took deep breaths. "That part of me is very ancient, very instinctual, Crowley."

"I know, love." He kissed his hot forehead. "Thank you for protecting your big, silly demon."

"He's never annoyed me or angered me like this. I can't seem to help it."

“You’ve never had a pregnant fiancé. That has a lot to do with it.” He draped his arms over Aziraphale's shoulders. “Let’s take our food upstairs and rest for a bit before we meet Nina and Maggie at that Philly place.”

Aziraphale made his way to the stairs with his froofy drink and his bag. "Shall we eat the toasties first or the cake?”

“Oh, I'll be having cake as soon as I get up there.”

Aziraphale quickly learned what Crowley meant. The demon had clarified by bending the angel over the dinner table, yanking his trousers down, and burying his face in scrumptious mounds, fully servicing Aziraphale's rim with his tongue.

With the angel spent and panting at the table, Crowley kissed the back of his neck and purred, “Angel cake is my favorite.” He laughed and spanked Aziraphale on one of those luscious cheeks. “I’m going to freshen up, I’ll be back to eat the actual food.”

They walked hand in hand to Passyunk Avenue. Crowley was dressed the same as he had been earlier in the day, now complete with a winter coat. Aziraphale wore different trousers and a sleeveless jumper, foregoing his bowtie, and Chelsea boots. Passyunk Avenue was a dive bar and he didn't want his regular clothes to get…Philthy.

Maggie and Nina were already there and chattering away by the time they were seated. The place was a lot to take in. The walls were covered in everything from Philadelphia sports Jerseys to photos of sports players to American dollar bills scribbled with notes and postal codes to neon signs sporting the names of beers. The television played a game of American football. Crowley noted that the “green guys are the Philly guys,” and they were winning. Several plush animals were scattered about - a fuzzy green creature and a fuzzy orange creature. They learned they were The Philly Fanatic and Gritty, respectfully. Apparently, they are worshiped as gods in Philly and Gritty is a supreme overlord of chaos. Crowley loved Gritty. Crowley may or may not have invented Gritty - he'll never tell.

“I wonder if anyone here is actually from Philadelphia,” Maggie said in a whisper.

“Wait a few minutes,” Crowley said, “they will self identify.”

He was right. Within minutes, the trio sat at the table next to theirs immediately began a chorus of, “Yo!” and, clear enough, “we’re from Philly.” One even asked, “since we kicked youse guyses asses in 1776, do we get a discount?” Almost immediately, other patrons in the restaurant identified themselves to these folks as fellow Philly natives. They had some coded language in their charming accents where they asked one another for their neighborhood name and their parish name. Answers were met with affirmation and understanding as if it told the querant all they needed to know. It was a remarkable anthropological study. One thing was certain, they really hated the opposing team on their American football game - silver guys called the Cowboys. Really hated them.

As Maggie and Nina insisted, both Crowley and Aziraphale ordered the lifeblood food of Philadelphia - the cheesesteak. A ribeye sliced to an extreme thinness and then seared and smothered in cheese, the cheesesteak was a top draw for the restaurant. There was even a culturally appropriate way to order them, helpfully detailed on the menu. Aziraphale ordered an “American witout” which was a cheesesteak with melted American cheese and no onions. Crowley ordered a “wiz wit,” in which the steak was topped with onions and a melted cheese made to mimic an American delicacy known as “cheese wiz.”

For all of their loudness and bluster, the Philadelphians in the bar were actually quite warm and friendly. They seemed to easily seek and establish companionship with total strangers. It was different in here than in a traditional pub, that was for sure.

Once served, 6 eyes stared at Aziraphale, who had seriously made the move to eat his cheesesteak with a knife and fork.

“Oh, Mr. Fell…no. With your hands. It’s a sandwich.” Nina said.

“It's so messy, though.” Aziraphale regarded the long roll stuffed with this cheesesteak.

“That's part of the charm,” Maggie said with a mouthful of her sandwich.

Aziraphale took a bite. “Oh, that's quite good actually. Very good.” He took another bite. “Probably not good for the arteries. Glad I don't have that worry.”

Crowley had watched Aziraphale first before taking his own first bite. He felt he understood Philadelphia in that moment. Wars have probably started over cheesesteaks, he thought, because this was his new favorite food.

“Who do I have to fuck to get these delivered to me each week?” He was making quick work of his dinner.

Aziraphale raised his eyebrows and smirked. Maybe it was the Philly influence that inspired his words. “Me, actually.” He pointed to Crowley’s belly. “That's been sorted already. I’d settle for a blowjob.”

The table erupted in laughter. “Mr. Fell!” Maggie exclaimed.

A gentleman at the table next to them heard the exchange and held his hand up to Aziraphale, “Yo, high five, bro. My man!” Aziraphale high fived him.

The good green guys beat the bad silver guys on the American football show and the restaurant erupted in song. “Fly, Eagles, Fly, on the road to victory…” Oh, they were a passionate bunch.

Crowley, Aziraphale, Maggie, and Nina had several new best friends by the time the left the restaurant. Crowley clutched a takeaway bag filled with two more cheesesteaks. He’d be happy with a cheesesteak wedding cake, he thought.

Aziraphale thanked them for a lovely evening and hugs and baby excitement were exchanged before they parted ways.

Chapter Text

“We’ve got quite a busy few days coming up. Are you sure you're up for it?” Aziraphale asked the next morning while getting dressed. Crowley had woken him up early to make love, leaving bite marks on his shoulder that he admired in the mirror before pulling his shirt on.

They would head back to the cottage in the afternoon in order to be home in time to attend their queer parents meeting. They’d sleep at the cottage and then come back to Soho to attend the holiday party the next day. It would be a lot of driving, but Crowley said he was up for it.

Aziraphale watched Crowley devour the two cheesesteaks for breakfast. “That was certainly a choice.”

“I’m addicted, Aziraph -” he hiccupped. “I would fight someone for these.”

“At the rate you're going, the baby is going to come out singing that flying Eagles song.”

Before the drive home, they walked into Nina’s to pick up Crowley's order plus some treats for the road. Of course, Mr. Brown was there. So was Mutt. The magician was at the mercy of Mr. Brown talking his ear off about the monthly meeting.

“Ah! Mr. Fell!” Mutt was glad for a distraction. He immediately began talking magic with Aziraphale.

Crowley leaned over the counter to get Nina’s attention. He was vaguely aware of the annoyance being passed between Aziraphale, Mutt, and Mr. Brown.

Mr. Brown attempted to butt in a few times and was finally successful. “Oh, Mr. Fell, I had no idea you were also a magician. My, such talent on this row.”

“Yes, I am. I’ve even performed on the West End stage in my day.” Unable to resist a chance to show off his prowess of prestidigitation, he allowed one simple small trick and pulled a penny from behind Mr. Brown’s ear.

“Ah. Quite a master of magic, Mr. Fell.” Mr. Brown was more focused on the fact that Mr. Fell paid attention to him and nearly touched him - he swore a fingertip grazed a hair - than a basic magic trick. He hoped Crowley noticed. He thought he would like the penny to keep as a memory of this pleasant moment. He reached up to take the penny out of Aziraphale's hand, which still held the coin in front of his face. This set off a series of unfortunate events.

Aziraphale saw Mr. Brown move to take the penny and immediately went to close his hand over it. Mr. Brown’s hand knocked into his, causing the penny to come lose into the air. There was a frantic flailing of four hands between the two gentlemen in an attempt to keep the penny from falling to the floor and to claim it for themselves.

Mutt, Crowley, Nina, and other patrons looked on at the magical bedlam.

Aziraphale swooped his hand low and grasped the penny just before it hit the ground. "Ah ha!" He began to raise his fist up in victory, clutching the penny.

Unfortunately, Mr. Brown bent down to catch it, leaning over quickly. The combination of Aziraphale bringing his fist up and Mr. Brown leaning down resulted in one angel accidentally punching one carpet salesman in the eye.

Gasps surrounded them. A snort came from the counter. Crowley.

There was an eerie silence before - “Mr. Brown, I sincerely apologize. Oh! This was an unfortunate accident. Please, I -”

Mr. Brown waved a hand to stop Aziraphale's apology. He knew it was an accident. These things happen. However, this accident happened in public and in front of Crowley. He could feel the smug look on his face. He wanted to yell, but that would be unbecoming. He waited for the single tear from the pain to erupt before holding his head up and looking at Mr. Fell, blinking to allow the tear to fall onto his cheek.

“Oh, Mr. Brown. Oh, I am so sorry. I didn't mean to…” God, that had felt so good, but Aziraphale worried people would think less of him.

Nina brought a bag of ice to Mr. Brown. Crowley moved to stand protectively next to Aziraphale, holding him around his waist and using the full advantage of his height and his sneer to keep any anger from Mr. Brown at bay.

Mr. Brown was certainly intimidated and needed to think quickly. He’d impress his audience. He dramatically swiped his tear. People will see how generous he can be. “Mr. Fell, this was but a silly mishap. I imagine we will share many laughs over it together,” he paused for Crowley's benefit, “in our future encounters. What’s a magical bop to the eye between old friends?” He gave a light punch to Aziraphale's shoulder. Proud of his graciousness, he tilted his chin up and dabbed at his eye with the bag of ice. The very model of a civilized gentleman. Some can dress the part, but Mr. Brown always acted the part.

“No hard feelings, friend.” He held his hand out to shake Mr. Fell’s. “Good day, gentlemen, Crowley. I will see you all at the party.” He quickly ducked out of the café. The good thing about owning a carpet store is that one can bury their head in layers of shag and scream without being heard.

“Are you alright?” Crowley asked Aziraphale softly. He could see his eyes well up.

“Yes,” Aziraphale whispered. “Perhaps we should go. Let’s get everything from Nina and leave, please.”

Mutt approached them. “I know this isn't your style, Mr. Fell, but you just provided all of us with the best entertainment. You've done what so many of us have always wished we could do. Now, that's magical.” He pat Aziraphale on the shoulder.

Aziraphale gave a half smile. “Thank you.”

Nina helped them carry everything to the car. She leaned into the open door after Aziraphale slid in. “You're my hero, Mr. Fell.” She closed the door and jogged back across the street.

“See that? You're a hero!” Crowley watched the Angel’s lip quiver and squeezed closer to hug him. “Angel, it’s okay. It was an accident.”

“That's the thing, Crowley. I can't say that it was. I could have stopped my arm and -” he sniffed.

“Oh now, there are physics involved. Inertia and shit. Newton would be proud.”

“I enjoyed it, Crowley.” He twisted his engagement ring round and round his finger.

“So did I,” Crowley laughed. He realized that wasn't the proper response. “Angel, he truly has been a bit of a cunt lately. Give yourself a bit of a break.”

“What if people think I’m some sort of awful person?” A tear dropped into his lap.

“Angel, Nina said you were a hero. Mutt was amused. I can tell you Nina will probably watch the security footage over and over for her own enjoyment. Anyone who would think you awful because of a clear accident isn't worth your time.” He started the ignition.

Their afternoon at the cottage passed easily and, before they knew it, it was time to leave for the meeting after an early supper. Miraculously, the hot drinks from Nina still remained piping hot. They loaded them into the Bentley and made their way to the meeting. Crowley gave a run down of some of the folks he knew would be there.

Earlier in the afternoon, he had also given Aziraphale a crash course in more modern queer terminology and the various new terms regarding identities. Aziraphale was rather up to snuff - he lived in Soho, after all - but welcomed the refresher. The discussion had also given him new things to ponder regarding sexuality, specifically his.

Crowley began to feel cold feet as they pulled up to the community center where the meeting would be held. He took many deep breaths and thought of how he had already talked to many of these people on the Discord and the Zoom meeting. He longed for real connection with parents like him.

“I’m here with you,” Aziraphale soothed. He, too, hoped to connect with parents that understood their unique family nature, minus the whole demon and angel thing.

“I know. I know.” Crowley took another cleansing breath. He smiled at Aziraphale. “You look so handsome. Should have pulled over and shagged you before we got here. You look like a hot professor."

“Plenty of time for that later, my dear.” Aziraphale was dressed down in gray trousers, modern oxfords, one of his light blue shirts, and a teal sleeveless jumper. Sans bowtie, the top two buttons of his shirt remained undone, much like Crowley's hold on self control around his delicious angel.

Crowley leaned over to kiss him, hoping to pull some of the angel's courage into his own body. He looked into the heavenly blue eyes that were playing off the teal in his jumper. “You are so bloody gorgeous.” He finally felt enough courage and opened the door.

“Let me help you with that!” a voice called. Crowley recognized the magenta-haired figure as Bex. They reached the Bentley and held out their hand. “So nice to finally meet you in person, Anthony.” They shook hands. “And Azra, right?”

“Azra, yes,” Aziraphale gave a warm smile and shook their hand.

They helped Aziraphale and Crowley bring in the boxes of coffee and hot water, the large assortment of tea bags, and pastries and guided them to the table where snacks were set up. “Feel free to help yourselves to anything at any time. We’re going to get started soon.”

The center was brightly lit and colorful. Sofas and smaller chairs had been arranged in a circular formation to make conversation easier. Small tables were scattered between them. There were nearly two dozen people here, a number Crowley hadn’t expected. He overheard that a few were completely new and hadn’t even posted on the Discord yet, a fact that made him feel a little relieved as it meant he wasn’t the newest person. He sat huddled with Aziraphale on a small sofa, pressing himself up against the angel for security. He watched as many eyes lingered on them, knowing that each person felt inexplicably drawn to them - intrigued and tempted by Crowley, comforted by Aziraphale.

Soon, people were finding their seats, coffee or tea in hand with plates of pastry and other snacks. Crowley noticed there was such a wide variance in representation as well as identity. Quite a few were obviously pregnant. Taking a seat next to him and Aziraphale was Ronnie, who brought her newborn. Crowley instantly melted on the inside at the sight of the brand new human asleep in their parent’s arms.

“Hi Anthony!” Ronnie said cheerfully.

“Alright , folks! I am so sorry. I left all of my name tags at home. Toddler brain is a real thing. If you don’t mind, let’s all go around and introduce ourselves. I’m so happy to see many new faces today. This is exciting! I’ll go first. I’m Bex. He/They. I’m transmasc and I have two kids at home with my partner - Quinn, my 2 year old and Maeve, my 5 year old. It’s pure chaos and I love it.”

“Sorry we’re late!” Two men rushed in and Crowley smiled at Alan and his husband, Brent. “Oh! Hi you two! Alan noticed their rings right away and gave a thumbs up.”

Crowley began to feel more relaxed as each person introduced themselves. There were other genderfluid people there, which made him feel seen in a special way that he was still processing. Finally, it was their turn to speak. Crowley went first.

“I’m Anthony. I’m 12 weeks pregnant,” he instinctively placed his hand on his belly, “with our first child.”

First Aziraphale squeezed his hand.

Crowley continued, “I’m, uh, genderfluid and just generally queer. I usually go by he/him, but He/She/They all work for me and are very affirming. Baby's due in July and we’ll be getting married at some point before then.”

“For those who haven’t been on the Discord yet, Anthony is a midwife. Anthony, do you mind if people ask you questions in that regard or would you rather they didn’t?” Bex asked

“Oh, uh, yeah, it’s fine.”

Aziraphale was next. Crowley watched people turn into goo when he spoke. He couldn’t blame them. “I’m Azra, Anthony’s fiancé. My pronouns are he/him for now. I’m gay and, having just learned some new terminology today, demisexual.” He caught Crowley’s inquisitive look.

Someone who hadn’t yet introduced themselves pumped a fist in the air and said, ‘yes! A fellow demisexual!”

Ronnie was next and explained that her wife, Kat, couldn’t make it as she was home nursing a broken ankle, but that she sends her love and hopes to make the next one. Crowley noticed her fumbling and struggling when starting to nurse, but was still too shy to lean over and ask if he could help. He understood the issue right away. Before the evening is over, he told himself.

After introductions, they began having free discussions. At one point, Aziraphale piped up to recommend Anathema’s birth center to a couple who would be moving to Oxfordshire soon and were in need of fertility services.

Crowley fielded a few questions about childbirth and began to feel much calmer and more relaxed as he flexed those ancient birthworker muscles.

Topics were at times very light-hearted, but they soon turned to a more serious discussion about dealing with sexual trauma in pregnancy. Crowley shifted in his seat. He didn’t expect to be among such a heavy conversation on his first time there.

Aziraphale sensed the tension in Crowley’s muscles and put his arm around his shoulder, rubbing it sporadically.

“I’ve struggled a lot through this pregnancy. I have some complications and I need to be seen often by my midwife and by a doctor. It’s been so hard to let them touch me. I have to have pelvic exams because of my cervix and I don’t feel like I get enough support through the process. I feel very alone in this, especially since I'm now a single parent.” Jayden was a bisexual parent who was struggling with gender identity and was currently 25 weeks pregnant.

Aziraphale’s heart broke to hear that situations like Crowley’s were more common than he thought as others in the group shared stories of past sexual abuse. He was shocked at the gravely voice speaking up next to him - Crowley himself.

“I was raped repeatedly when I was younger. I also spent my early years in a, uh, cult with a lot of ritualized sexual abuse that I endured. I can’t handle exams very well and I've struggled maintain a connection with my body at times because a lot of the old abuse is coming back to the surface. There's such a loss of control of your own body with pregnancy. It triggers that subconscious helplessness from the past. Our bodies have physical reactions to trauma that are understudied.” He paused and took a breath. It was getting to be too much. “Anyway, if you don’t mind the drive, my midwife in Tadfield is brilliant. She specializes in pregnancy after trauma. She could probably refer you to one of her friends who is closer to here, though.” Crowley couldn’t believe he shared all of that. He felt proud of himself, though overwhelmed.

“You get it,” Jayden began. “It’s the loss of control that is very triggering. I never thought of it that way. Thank you.”

“Anthony, do you think your midwife would ever want to come and do a special meeting with the group and those who have experienced similar trauma?”

“I can ask her,” he answered. He knew Anathema would jump at the opportunity.

Aziraphale was fighting the watering of his eyes. He was so incredibly proud of Crowley and touched by the responses and support that followed his story. He was, as always, honored to witness these pieces of Crowley becoming healed. This is why he often reminded Crowley that he is a miracle.

The conversation became informal as the time wore on. Crowley noticed Ronnie struggling to latch the baby again.

Ronnie noticed Crowley. “His latch is perfect when he finally gets on. It’s the getting on part that we can't figure out. I spoke to the lactation consultant on the phone today and she suggested an evaluation for a tongue tie.”

Crowley knew he needed to help. “I…I can check that for you. I don't think that is your issue, but I’d be happy to check him.”

Aziraphale looked on as Crowley knelt in front of Ronnie, who held Samuel in her lap. He watched the way his love’s face softened.

“Can you show me under his little tongue? And then under his lips.” Crowley checked the tiny mouth and declared, “Everything is perfect. No lip or tongue tie. Would you mind if I looked while you get him to latch?”

“That would be great.” Samuel fussed repeatedly and cried at the breast. Ronnie became upset. “I don't know what to do.” She wiped at her eyes.

“You have an overactive letdown. It’s not a true latch issue,” he said softly. “Can I help you reposition him?

Crowley instructed Ronnie to lean back in the chair and hold the baby up further, so that he was almost facing down at the breast. “He needs to work against gravity. Otherwise, the milk is coming out too fast for him to latch on properly and to swallow.” He showed her a few more positions. He even demonstrated by laying down on his side on the sofa. “If you nurse lying on your side like this, it allows the milk to dribble out the side of his mouth so he isn't overwhelmed by it. And...and this won't last - eventually this regulates.”

Ronnie began to shower Crowley with praise, which made him feel a bit self-conscious. He was suddenly aware that the entire group was transfixed by him. “Right. That’s sorted. I can give you my number and you can text if you have questions.”

If it was possible - oh, it most certainly was - a new part of Aziraphale fell deeply in love with this part of Crowley. He was a completely different demon here - a side that Aziraphale had witnessed on very rare occasions in ancient days. His stomach butterflies took their flight when he thought about how Crowley would mother their child - he had such keen insight, he was patient and, though he will protest with fire and fury on this point, very nurturing. How fortunate he was to be able to have a child with Crowley.

Crowley and Aziraphale found themselves fussed over by, well, everyone. Even their choice of pastries were praised, with several folks insisting that Crowley bring them to each meeting from now on and other’s asking for the address of Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death. Aziraphale was told repeatedly that he seemed like someone they knew forever and that he looked like a warm hug. One person commented that he was dapper, which made the angel feel good as he felt a bit out of sorts in a different outfit.

Ronnie was fumbling to get her coat on. She turned to Crowley. “Would you mind holding Samuel for me, please? I lost my keys in my bag and my coat is twisted. I just need both hands,” she laughed.

“Oh…oh, are you sure?” Crowley was elated, though he didn't wear the sentiment on his face.

Ronnie handed the whimpering baby to Crowley, who immediately cradled him and began swaying, looking down with a big, goofy smile. The baby instantly relaxed in his arms.

“Hello, Samuel,” he said gently, in a voice he hardly used. It'd been a long while since he held such a wee baby. Not since Warlock. He couldn't help the softness he felt, the way he felt himself light up, the instinctive sway of his body. A lump appeared in his throat when he thought of holding his own tiny person in just six months.

Time stopped for Aziraphale. He was certain his heart did for a moment, too. It was impossible, he told himself, just impossible to keep falling in love with Crowley so many times on this night - his entire being could explode with it. Yet, here he was, watching his fiancé coo and smile at a tiny newborn who clearly felt soothed by him. This was the same Crowley who often felt unlovable, unworthy, undeserving, and reviled - now he found himself trusted by the purest type of human.

Goodbyes were said and phone numbers were exchanged before Crowley and Aziraphale were back in the front seat of the Bentley. Aziraphale gave Crowley a moment to just be and to process before speaking.

“That was a rather enjoyable time. Jolly good people, too." He turned to Crowley and held out his arms. "Come here, darling." He scooted closer to fold Crowley into his arms for a hug, the demon burying his face into the crook of Aziraphale's shoulder. Aziraphale cast a small miracle for privacy so no one walking by would notice this intimate moment. He felt the warmth rise to Crowley's skin and the shudder begin in his shoulders. The demon let out a muffled sob.

"There now, my darling. That was certainly a lot in a short time. You were incredible. There now." He pet Crowley's head and rocked their bodies together.

Crowley leaned back on his seat and looked at the ceiling of the Bentley. He removed his glasses and wiped his eyes. On the drive to a late night cafe for dessert, he explained how he felt happy and accepted, but guilty because he didn’t deserve to have so many people that seemed to like him. “They like me because I’m designed to draw them in. If only they knew who I was,” he had said.

Aziraphale winced at the way the sentence pierced him. “I - I know who you are. You are someone worthy of the exact type of acceptance you found in that room.” He didn’t press the issue too much as he understood that the dance between feeling worthy and confronting his past was one that Crowley needed to do in order to keep healing. Aziraphale would be there to guide and support him through the steps.

There was an elephant in the Bentley, one that Aziraphale would tenderly care for until Crowley wanted to acknowledge it. The demon had said the “r” word out loud and shared about his sexual trauma. That had been a huge emotional undertaking and not one Crowley had prepared for. Until now, only Aziraphale and Anathema knew, with Aziraphale being privy to every detail. The impact of this would be significant for Crowley - and Aziraphale as well.

For now, the demon was content to sit at the café with Aziraphale for a small meal and dessert. They spoke of the other people they had met and how lovely all of their interactions had been.

"So," Crowley started with a mouthful of cheesecake, "talk to me about demisexuality. I know what it is - you realized it describes yourself?"

"Yes. I feel that it fits me perfectly. That was one I hadn't heard previously. I knew about asexuality and often felt I landed somewhere in that definition, but I didn't know what I have long felt has a name." He twisted the napkin at his lap. “I rather think, based on previous conversations, that it fits you as well.”

“Mmmm.” Crowley nodded his head in agreement.

“I can’t say I need a label, but I understand how it’s helpful, especially when creating community with new people.”

“‘M not in need of labels much either, though hearing from other genderfluid people tonight made me feel…I dunno…seen, I guess. It’s...nice.” He smushed a tiny cheesecake crumb with his fork.

“It is nice to be seen so positively. I must say, your genderfluidity is such a beautiful part of you. I’m heartened that you feel affirmed in this group.”

“For you as well, Angel. We’ve never truly delved into our queerness outside of ourselves - and we see it differently because we’re not human. Being part of this group is good for both of us. Don’t forget yourself in all of this.”

Aziraphale gave him a shy smile. Crowley was going through so much, yet he always made sure to show care for Aziraphale. The angel often found himself feeling guilty for enjoying such attention.

Their lovemaking that night was frenzied and sloppy, leading to laughter that burst forth after their climax. Crowley had been dousing the fires of his arousal all evening. Aziraphale looked so hot in his clothes and the demon couldn’t wait to get them off him the moment they stepped through the door. Hurried by their passion, they only managed to uncover the bits needed for the act. Snuggling in for sleep, they finally undressed themselves.

In the dark softness of their post-lovemaking haze, Crowley unwound the emotions he had kept tightly coiled that evening.

Aziraphale felt the hot tears pool on his chest, where the demon pressed his face. He cocooned his love in an embrace, soothing him with light touches and gentle kisses. “My darling demon.”

“It just poured out, Aziraphale. I said the actual word. People - near strangers - know that about me now.” His hand clutched Aziraphale's chest hair.

“You did, my dear boy. Very bravely, I might add. Remember how you said being around other genderfluid people made you feel seen? Sharing your story made people feel validated. You saw them. You made them feel less alone. What a beautiful gift you have given them. And yourself, Crowley.”

Crowley moved so that they were laying with both their heads on the same pillow, face to face. Aziraphale pulled Crowley in to press chests and bellies together and snuggled them both under the tartan duvet, drawing it over their shoulders.

“I don't want it to have a hold on me anymore, Aziraphale. It still has too much control. This is another chain that I need to be freed from.”

Aziraphale fingered the ginger waves framing Crowley's face before tucking them behind his ear. Citrine eyes were searching his, desperate for comfort and an end to the intimate pain that had plagued him since his Fall.

“Tonight was a rather big moment. A milestone. It joins other moments that you have shared with me in the past year. Think of when you were nervous to tell me about it, back when we first started making love. Tonight, you named it to a room full of people. I'd certainly say you are putting kinks in that chain, weakening it. Your work to heal yourself has been nothing short of courageous, my darling." He brushed their lips together, pressing for a moment. "You spread that healing tonight. I watched it in Jayden's eyes, when they felt understood by you. That is a gift, Crowley.” He thumbed at a tear in his own eye. “That’s why I always like to remind you that you are a true miracle.”

“It’s much easier to use rage and anger to channel it, but I don’t want to expose a little one to all of that. I don’t want to pass that part of me on to them.” His hand wandered to his belly.

Aziraphale’s hand joined with his. “You won’t, darling. Of that I am most certain. You are ending that cycle so they don’t have to bear it - and that is one of the most selfless things anyone can do.”

Crowley squeezed back more tears. He needed to shelve the subject for now. “Thank you.” He kissed his angel and changed the subject.

“I loved holding that little baby…Samuel. Won't lie - I was excited she asked.”

“Watching you was - oh, I can't even come up with the words. My heart just kept bursting with all of the love that keeps growing. Crowley, you are so natural with babies. And so comforting to their parents. I listened to you give advice and calm nerves. Such a splendid source of experience and information. The group is lucky to have you.” He snuggled even closer. “Samuel was an adorable little fellow. Seeing you hold him made me think of how you will be holding our own tiny one just six months from now. How lucky they will be to find comfort in such loving arms.”

“I can’t wait to meet them, Aziraphale. I really can't.”

Aziraphale kissed between his brows. “Neither can I, my love. Neither can I.”

Chapter Text

“Here they are!” Crowley handed a few sheets of paper with colorful sketches to Aziraphale. “Thank you so much. I just didn't have the time to shop for shoes or stockings.”

They arrived at the bookshop after stopping for breakfast, twice, on the way from the cottage. It was now just after lunch and Crowley was sitting at the tiny table in the bookshop flat’s kitchen, snacking on a large bowl of berries. He had drawn out a pair of shoes and a pair of stockings he wanted to go with his outfit for the Whickber Street Traders and Shopkeepers Association holiday party. Aziraphale would miracle them for him based on his designs. Crowley was set to make an impression with his outfit. It would be daring and would send a message to Mr. Brown. Most importantly, Crowley would simply feel good about himself. He couldn't wait for Aziraphale to see him.

The familiar sensation of a nearby miracle sent goosebumps to his skin and he got up to join Aziraphale in the bedroom. His requested items were on the bed.

“Oh yes! Oh…yeeesssssss. Look at these beauties,” he said, holding up one of the shoes.

“I am quite eager to see you all dressed up.” Aziraphale twisted his engagement ring around. “Would you like to walk to St. James Park with me? It's a rather lovely day.”

Crowley set the shoes and stockings at his vanity. “Love to, Angel.”

It was a sunny and slightly mild winter’s day. Crowley managed to throw almost all of his frozen peas to the ducks. He snuck a single handful when the angel wasn't looking.

“We have frozen peas at home, Crowley. These are for the ducks.” He turned around to face the demon, who was frozen in mid chew.

“ ‘m innothenth. No peath here.” He pointed to his mouth and shook his head as if the bulge in his cheek wasn't there.

“The very model of innocence, my dear.” Aziraphale's amused expression turned to a hearty laugh. “You look like a hamster with your cheek like that.”

“Oh m’Goth, Anthl -” Crowley tried quickly swallow the rest like a snake swallowing an egg and began to cough, “chothing!”

Aziraphale rubbed the back of the demon currently sputtering and spitting pea bits. He looked around to see if anyone was watching this scene and hoped he wouldn't have to Heimlich a demon in St. James Park. That would be rather awkward.

“My word. Look at me. Are you alright? We’ve talked about chewing, Crowley.” He miracled a small bottle of water. “Drink this.”

Once it was clear that Crowley would indeed live, they made their way to their bench in a fit of laughter.

“What am I to do with this silly demon?” Aziraphale took his seat on the bench and picked a bit of pea off the lapel of the demon's wool overcoat.

“Kiss him, probably.”

“Indeed.” Aziraphale leaned over to kiss him. “Quite nice. Can’t even taste the peas.”

Crowley wiggled into one of his amorphous sitting positions, keeping one hand in Aziraphale's. “Excited for the party this evening?”

“I’ll be happy to see most people. One, not so much.” He opened and closed his fists and fanned his fingers.

“Hope Mr. Brown behaves. Otherwise, all bets are off.” He chuckled. “Wonder how his eye feels.”

“Hopefully, it serves as a reminder that he needs to mind his own business.” Aziraphale sniffed. “I wouldn't hesitate to do it again if it came to it.”

Crowley’s eyes widened and he smirked. “Is that so? Oh, Angel, you know you can’t talk like that. I’ll get so wet. Got a new pair of knickers on - don’t want them soaked just yet.”

“Pervert.”

“I learned from the best.” He gave a playful bite to Aziraphale’s neck, causing the angel to let out a squeal that did not go unnoticed by a few passersby.

Crowley took a deep breath and tilted his face up to the sun. “I want to change my hair.”

“Oh? Shall we visit a salon?”

“I was hoping you could help,” Crowley looked over at him. He’d been wearing his hair the same for some time now. It was short around the sides, long at top and parted to one side, the length flowing down to near chin length at this point. Always beautiful throughout time, it had become even more vibrant in its color and luxurious in its shine and volume. Waves and curls mingled perfectly.

“I’m good at many things, though hair may not be one of them.”

Crowley smiled. “Just a tiny miracle. I’d like it a bit longer - just a whisper past my shoulders.”

All of Crowley’s hairstyles had suited him and made Aziraphale tingle - even the questionable moments in the 60’s and 70’s and the one time he had a run in with a flock of seagulls in the early 80’s. It was the longer hair that Crowley sported from time to time that really got his nethers going, though. “I admit, I’m tickled pink that you are choosing that style. It’s one of my favorites. Would you like me to do this before the party?”

“Yes, please.” Crowley knew that many pregnant humans found themselves in need of a drastic hair change in pregnancy. He guessed he wasn’t very different in that regard.

Aziraphale gasped when he ran his hands through Crowley's hair and watched it change from its current style to a full head of loose curls cascading just a whisper past his shoulders, as requested by the demon.

Crowley looked in the bathroom mirror and grinned at his reflection. “There I am,” he said. “Thank you, love.” He pecked Aziraphale’s cheek. He carded his fingers through his hair, fluffing it and adjusting the part so that it was deeper to one side. He reached over to Aziraphale’s head and mussed his hair. “Speaking of hair, get in the bath so I can condition these naughty curls of yours.”

They indulged in a long soak before washing each other's hair. Aziraphale took his time with his lover's new locks. Despite seeing Crowley's trusses in all lengths and styles throughout their existence, this would be the first time he'd be able to play with his lover's long hair, to run his hands through so much of it, to braid it. He thought of what it would be like to pull on it while he was pounding deep inside of him. He couldn't wait for the night.

Crowley fussed and styled Aziraphale's hair just a bit. He brought out a hair dryer attachment he called a diffuser. "We're going to get these boys and girls to behave," he said as he twisted his fingers through the platinum white curls.

Aziraphale didn't change his hairstyle much through the years. He experimented at times, but he generally preferred his hair rather short. Its floofy nature varied. Crowley liked to play with it, curling it or making it into wild spikes. Aziraphale enjoyed having his lover's hands running through his hair. It always felt nice. He quite liked being fussed over in this way. When the demon was finished, Aziraphale had tighter, well-behaved curls.

A light and short supper was on order. Plenty of food would be available at the party, but Crowley didn't want to wait. They talked about Mr. Brown over the table.

"I do think he is rather lonely and that drives some of his behavior, but he's more persistent as of late." Aziraphale picked up his plate and brought it to the sink. "I don't know why he has a problem with you or why he thinks he has a chance with me." Aziraphale quite liked being in the middle of two people fighting for him. Even if one was Mr. Brown.

Crowley got up and hip-checked him away from the sink, taking over the washing up duties. "Lonely or not, his comments lately are inappropriate. You'd think after yelling at him about how you fuck me," he laughed, "he would get a clue. Maybe you'll have to publicly bend me over a table tonight to make it clear."

"Don't tempt me," Aziraphale mused.

Crowley cocked an eyebrow at him and smirked. "Fucked up thing is that I saved his mealy little arse. He was destined to be a chew toy for the demons. He'll never remember, but I do and I half regret it." He had not and would not tell Aziraphale about the body comments Mr. Brown had made. He dried his hands and kissed Aziraphale on the cheek. "Thank you for dinner. Time to get ready."

Aziraphale was lovingly banished from the bedroom. He'd get ready in the parlour, where a mirror had conveniently appeared.

Crowley sat at his vanity in his dressing gown and fumbled through drawers for his make up, pulling out mascara, eyeliner, lip liner, and lipstick. He fully intended to make out with the angel a lot tonight, so he hoped the combo of this long-lasting formula and a wee miracle would keep his lipstick in place. He opened and closed several eyeshadow palettes until he found the one he wanted. He was going for a simple look. His outfit and hair would be stunning enough. Eye makeup was for his benefit and Aziraphale's, since he'd have to wear his glasses in the pub.

He'd done his nails - fingers and toes - in a glittery scarlett before they left the cottage that morning. Aziraphale had also sat at the table for him, letting him paint the angel's nails in his sky blue.

He stood in front of the mirror and slipped off his dressing gown. He was wearing a black mesh bralette and thong set, which fit perfectly. He twisted to look at his ass in the thong and smiled. Aziraphale would freak, he thought. His nipples were pressed against the see-through fabric and the red of his hair at his center shone through the black mesh. Crowley practically turned himself on. He pulled on a black garter belt before donning the stockings. The thigh high stockings were another show-stopper - fishnet with a snake motif that traveled along each leg.

His final look left him breathless and extremely euphoric. The silky teal crop top with its scattered metallic stars was a bright contrast to the fiery red curls that brushed along his shoulder. His voluminous hair was parted deeply to fall on one side, tucked behind his ear on the other. His belly button was visible in the gap between the hem of the shirt and waistband of the skirt. The shirt draped over him as if it was made specifically for his body. The deep V ended just at the base of his sternum, highlighting the curves of his chest, which was fuller than it had been when he tried this on a mere week ago. The black velvet skirt hugged his belly and his ass and cascaded down to his feet like the deep night sky. The high slit, centered over the front of his leg, stopped just short of revealing where his garter belt attached to his thigh high. He cocked a long leg out to showcase the snake pattern slithering up his leg. His bump was very clearly evident just under the waistband. The fabric hugged it protectively and highlighted its shape. There was no denying what that bump contained. He looked pregnant. Finally, his shoes. Shimmering black pumps with a red and black lace pattern on the soles and a 4 inch heel - a heel whose back was made to look like a gold sword.

“Look at you,” he said to himself. “Fuck, I’d tempt myself.” He was, admittedly, sexy. Hot. A little bit slutty. And quite obviously pregnant. The whole look was affirming. He cradled the bump and thought of how he might tell people the news. Would they take one look at him and ask? He doubted they would. Most people, he thought, were generally opposed to commenting on bodies. Mr. Brown hadn't been most people - his comment was rude.

“How are we coming along in there? Aziraphale’s voice boomed through the door.

“You can come in now,” Crowley said, smoothing his hands down the side of his legs. Aziraphale would faint, he thought. He wasn't sure what Aziraphale was wearing - probably different trousers and a sleeveless jumper with a bowtie. It was a comfortable look for him when he opted to change from his “standard Aziraphale uniform” as Crowley lovingly teased.

It was Crowley who nearly fainted. “Aziraphale…” There stood Aziraphale in an entirely new suit. The jacket, waistcoat, and trousers were in a horsehair weave pattern in a dark teal blue, checkered with thin red stripes - not exactly tartan, but close enough - a windowpane check design. The white shirt under it all was topped off not with a bowtie, but a deep red Jacquard print satin tie. A white pocket square in a ruffled fan shape peeked out. He tipped up a black oxford to reveal a sole that matched the black and red lace pattern of Crowley's soles. Crowley took note of a black and dark red tartan pattern on the angel's socks.

The angel had stood in the parlour and stared at his reflection for an unknown amount of minutes. He had been a rather snappy dresser throughout time. His current look was comfortable, sure, and steady. Change now and then was a good thing, he thought. He wasn't changing himself, just his outfit for the night. He'd become more comfortable with switching his clothing around recently. He was aware of what Crowley would wear this evening - he’d miracled the fold lines from it after Crowley unpacked it from his overnight bag. Crowley was sure to turn heads as always. Aziraphale wanted to match that energy. He was quite proud of his selection and knew the demon would be weak in the knees for him.

“Ravishing,” Aziraphale said of the nearly 7 foot creature standing in front of him. Perhaps 7 feet was an exaggeration, but the demon was certainly larger than life and looking exquisite.

“Fuck me, Angel. Look at you.” He grabbed both of Aziraphale's hands and pulled him through the doorway. Ugh, the annoying thing about his skimpy thong was that it wouldn't do much to soak up the wetness that was currently growing between his thighs.

“I’m rather afraid there isn't time for a proper fuck at the moment, darling. I’d like to take my time with you this evening.” He turned Crowley around and devoured him with his eyes. “My, what a proper bit of frock.” And the make-up. Aziraphale knew the eyes were done up just for him. And…that red lip. He had to push the image of those red lips wrapped around his cock from his mind or they'd never make it to the Dirty Donkey.

“Anathema was right. I’d get pregnant if I wasn't already. She thought it would be because of my outfit, but I’d be knocked up just from the sight of you. You’re gorgeous. Handsome. Debonair. Hot as fuck.”

Aziraphale laughed and put his hands on Crowley's bump. “Speaking of pregnant - oh Crowley, there’s no denying it. People will know.” The thought excited Aziraphale on several levels - some were arousing. “And these beauties.” He slid his hand over Crowley's chest hair, between his curves. He stood on tiptoe for a small kiss.

“Oh! Forgot!” Crowley rifled through a drawer and pulled out a small piece of jewelry, which he affixed to his ear on the side where his hair was tucked. It was an ear crawler cuff, clip on - he wished he had gotten some piercings before pregnancy. It was four platinum letters with delicate black stones - enough to catch the light and grab attention - that curved down the side of his ear to his lobe. C-U-N-T.

“Crowley…”

“You don't like it? I think it’s perfect.” Crowley pouted.

“Oh, I love it. It reminds me that you need one more piece of jewelry.” He grabbed his brown leather bag from its place near the wardrobe. He pulled out a sleek black box.

Crowley gasped. “Really?” Now he was very wet.

“Mmmhmm. It’s been awhile and I thought this would be the perfect occasion to wear your Christmas gift, my dear.” He pulled the snake collar from its box and approached Crowley. He looked up into the fiery yellow eyes. “Kneel.”

Crowley did as he was told, kneeling down and leaning back to rest his bum on his ankles, hands folded in his lap, eyes gazing up at the darkened blues of his lover. He was eager and obedient.

“Very nice,” Aziraphale said, slipping the collar around his neck. “Pull that sinful hair back, my dear.”

Crowley gathered all of the hair at the base of his neck so Aziraphale could fasten the locking closure of the collar.

Aziraphale put a finger under Crowley's chin and tipped it up. “Such a beautiful demonic slut, aren't you?” He held out his hand to help him back to standing. Looping his finger into the O-ring, he pulled Crowley down toward him for a kiss. “Now, I’m feeling rather generous tonight. No rules other than you remember who you belong to and remain on your best behavior.” He kissed him again. “I will leave the ‘best behavior’ up for your interpretation, my dear. Quite thoughtful of me, isn't it?”

“Y-yes, Angel.” He’s been collared in public before, but it usually blended in with his goth aesthetic. Very few people noticed. This was different. The snake collar glimmered in the light and was a perfect compliment to the neckline of his shirt. It was extravagant and showy. It would catch the attention of all eyes at the party, and knowing smiles from those who understood what it meant.

“I want everyone to look at you and know that you are mine. You are the star of the show - and you belong to me alone. I want them to lust for you and envy me. I want them to covet what we have, what we are. I want them to see how fertile you are. I want them to look at your belly and know who did that to you.”

Aziraphale knew this type of talk was okay with Crowley in these situations. He loved this play, but he was ever mindful of the demon's limits. His plan for this evening was to show off his lover and then pleasure him without mercy when they got home. This would not be the night for edging and withholding. He wanted Crowley to feel like the temptation he is, to feel desired, to feel the power he has over people. For one, he deserved it. Secondly, such an idea made Aziraphale hard.

“I think I'd rather enjoy it if you were a bit bratty tonight. What do you think?” He tightened his hold on the O-ring. “Live up to the letters on that earring. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes, Angel.” His knees were so weak. Weak enough that he thought maybe he didn't have knees anymore. He was a noodle.

Aziraphale kissed him once more and then flashed a smile, letting go of the collar. “Very well then! No more lollygagging. Off we pop!”

Crowley laughed. One of his favorite things about this type of play was the absolute contrast between Aziraphale's soft dom side and then his own genteel angel self, saying things like, “lollygagging” and “off we pop!”

“Wait, Angel. Mirror selfie.” He snapped a photo of them in the mirror. “Selfie, selfie.” He snapped a close up of their faces and his collar. “One more.” He managed to plant a kiss and the impression of his red lips on the angel’s cheek. He took one more picture of Aziraphale's face, smiling with his lip mark on his cheek.

Aziraphale insisted on some 12 week bump shots, noting how Crowley’s belly had changed in just a day. It was fuller, higher, and more defined. His lover's maternal state was undeniable, especially with the way his outfit accentuated every curve of his body, contrasting with the harsher angles that were still just beginning to soften.

Not softening was Aziraphale at the thought of the rest of the members of the Whickber Street Traders and Shopkeepers Association knowing he got Crowley pregnant.

“Gonna have to tuck that snake into bed, Angel.” Crowley said jokingly, pointing to the bulge in his trousers. “Though, I don't mind people seeing what you’ve got and knowing what I can take.” He gave him a wicked smile.

“That kind of talk isn't going to do much for these matters, darling.” He took a deep breath and willed his cock to soften. “Now, let's be off. We have a night of merriment and mischief ahead!”

Aziraphale held Crowley's hand as they walked down the spiral staircase. Crowley let Aziraphale guide him step by step despite not needing any help at all. It made his perfect gentleman feel good. Once downstairs, Crowley waited while Aziraphale dashed back up to grab the shop keys and his pocket watch.

"I know you're going for a quick wank in the bathroom," the demon called up. He quickly texted Anathema their photos before putting his sunglasses on.

Crowley: "Look at these hotties. Off to that dreadful holiday soiree. Trying hard not to turn into a puddle just by looking at him. 💦🍆🫦"

His phone dinged immediately.

Anathema: "🔥🔥🔥🌶️🌶️🌶️🥵🥵🥵"
Anathema: "You two look so good! dying at how hot you both are. omg obsessed with the hair. you're so very obviously pregnant in that mirror pic! 🥰"
Anathema: "that collar. 👀"

Crowley: "Newt was with him when he bought it. Apparently your man nearly knocked over a display of strap-ons. Told ya Aziraphale is a hoe. 😋🫠

"

"Ready, my dear?" Aziraphale was back and held out his elbow.

Crowley looped his arm through and they walked through the door. Heads turned and tires squealed. The view of the two of them walking across the street was enough to make pedestrians gawk and traffic stop. Just as God intended.

Their entry into the Dirty Donkey was no less dramatic. The pub was charmingly apportioned with Christmas decorations and lights. Cheerful music played over the speakers. It was filled with members of the Whickerber Street Traders and Shopkeepers Association, their partners and friends. The crowd was lively and full of laughter and chatter, until Aziraphale and Crowley walked through the door. The hush that snaked through the crowd was noticeable, as were the necks that turned heads and the eyes that perceived the two of them. A few murmurs of, “that’s Anthony, his boyfriend,” and “holy shit, is that Mr. Fell?” could be heard before the silence fell.

They stood still for a moment well aware of the impact they made. Crowley wore a thin, self-indulgent smile that crept up one side of his face. He stood so his leg parted the slit in his dress, allowing everyone to see the snake design crawling up his leg. He kept his arm hooked on Aziraphale’s. His other hand rested gingerly on his belly. He knew what he was doing.

Used to being the warm, fuzzy Mr. Fell, Aziraphale stood with his chest raised, shoulders square, and head held proudly. He wouldn’t deny the small amount of vanity that flashed on his otherwise friendly countenance. He was the very model of a balance between hubris and humility. Aziraphale was rather pleased to see the way the partygoers looked at them. He watched eyes move down Crowley’s torso, to the hand at the unmistakably swollen belly, Crowley's red nails a sharp contrast to black velvet that hugged the place where their baby lay. The baby that Aziraphale put in him.

In an instant, friends and fellow shopkeepers surrounded them. Crowley smiled at the attention Aziraphale received. People were stunned by the change in his usual look. They saw what Crowley saw - a handsome, beautiful being who glowed with divinity. Crowley was gushed over as well, with polite questions that tap-danced around his obvious pregnancy.

Not part of the crowd was Mr. Brown, who was holding court with several people when they had walked in and now found himself alone at the table. He took a steady sip of his drink. Look at that. Flashy and vain. Poor Mr. Fell. It was rather obvious that this boyfriend of his was trying to change the bookseller into something he was not. He hoped Mr. Fell would be able to resist. No use changing yourself for someone. As for Anthony Crowley - of course he came dressed like that. Not one to be without attention. Mr. Brown had requested respectable dress and this was hardly it with that high slit and those provocative stockings. Not to mention the top, flashing his goods about. The paunch to his belly was obvious. Would Mr. Crowley be able to resist getting sloshed tonight? The pub was not the best place for someone at risk of relapse. Either way, Mr. Brown was hosting this event and a host must be gracious.

“Mr. Fell!” Brown’s voice boomed through the pub. He quickly walked over to them to greet Mr. Fell. “So glad you and your…friend could make it. Quite the change in attire for you, isn’t it?” He looked Crowley up and down. “My word, isn’t this an outfit, sir? They didn’t have a shirt long enough to reach your hips?" He snorted with indignation. "I jest, my good man.”

Aziraphale’s muscles tightened. He angeled himself towards Crowley, finding his hand protectively reaching over Crowley's on the bump. The bruising of skin below the carpet man’s lower lashes did not go unnoticed to the angel and demon. Aziraphale held back a smile over that.

“Mr. Brown!” Crowley said in a jovial voice. “Good thing you are in the business of carpets - you look like you could use a good shag.” He waited for the giggles circling the crowd to quiet down. “I jest! I jest, my good man!” Crowley was a fucking Queen. Some of the partygoers even told him so.

Aziraphale guided him to a table, where they were joined by Maggie and Nina.

“Look at you! Mr. Fell, you are always so handsome, but you are really taking the cake tonight,” Maggie said. “That suit is divine and looks like it was made just for you.” If she only knew.

“Doubt Anthony can take his hands off you,” Nina said knowingly.

Maggie stood and took Crowley's hand. “Give us a look,” she said pulling him up and taking all of him in. “What a vixen.” She whistled. “How do you walk in those shoes? I’d break my ankles.”

“That belly is so cute. You're growing fast.” Nina held her hand to her mouth. “I hope it was okay to say that.”

“It is,” Crowley reassured her, sitting back in his seat.

Aziraphale went up to the bar for a round of drinks while they waited for their food.

Mr. Brown heard him request non-alcoholic versions of their cocktails. Confirmation! Mr. Brown was quite pleased, as usual, with his powerful perception skills. He had compassion, of course. Addiction wasn't easy and he knew there were things Anthony Crowley couldn't control about it. How selfless of Mr. Fell to care for him. Mr. Brown knew the exhaustion that comes with such an undertaking all too well. However, that didn't mean he had to accept or like Mr. Crowley. The fellow was quite obviously changing himself and Mr. Fell for the worse. The display tonight was rather scandalous, he thought.

They enjoyed themselves and the companionship of many of the people there. Numerous photos were taken of them as a couple or with a group. Each of them were pulled in for selfies. Aziraphale had gone up for another round of drinks. Crowley followed when he saw Mr. Brown circle around. A partner of a shopkeeper, absolutely over the moon with the drink, poked at Mr. Brown.

“You keep staring at that redhead. Think you have a chance with her?” he slurred loudly, pointing at Crowley.

“Absolutely not, sir! I daresay, I have rather refined tastes and prefer something a little more demure and less flashy than that.” He was offended.

Something? That? Aziraphale once again tensed, his jaw twitching, and was about to speak when Crowley piped up.

“My good man,” he chided, “I am nothing if not a total size queen. Only Mr. Fell can measure up to my needs.” He cackled as they walked away with their drinks, leaving Mr. Brown red and embarrassed.

Crowley and Aziraphale made their respective ways around the pub to socialize with different people. Each time they would pass one another, Aziraphale would reach up for a kiss, keeping a protective hand around Crowley's back. There were a few times when Crowley made a small show of wiping his lipstick from the angel’s lips.

Aziraphale ended up in a long magic conversation with Mutt. Crowley was beckoned to a table by Mrs. Sandwich, flanked by Mutt’s spouse, Ms. Cheng, and Justine. “C’mere, luv.”

Crowley joined them, swirling the tiny straw of his fruity mocktail.

“Can I ask a rude question?”

“Those are my favorite kind,” Crowley smiled. He knew what was coming. Mrs. Sandwich was direct in a charming and non-intrusive way.

“What are you smuggling under that skirt?”

Crowley laughed. This felt so good and he was excited to share the news. “A baby,” he said with just a hint of shyness.

“Knew it! Should have bet a few quid.” She laughed before taking Crowley’s hand. “Awww, congratulations. You two deserve a happy ending and new beginning. When ya due, luv?”

“July.” He felt…something…in his heart being surrounded by these doe-eyed shopkeepers at the table, Mrs. Sandwich's hand on his. Whatever it was, he liked it.

Congratulations went around the table. Mrs. Sandwich stood up and dipped down to give him a squishy, warm hug. “I’m happy for you. So happy. You look beautiful. Glowing like the queen you are. I can see the twinkle in Mr. Fell’s eyes as well.”

“We’ve been wondering for a few weeks now,” Ms. Cheng said.

“Really?” Had there been gossip?

“Yes,” Justine added. “You both seem very changed and very happy. You especially glow and then we noticed this little belly show up the other week. It all made sense to us.”

Crowley answered many excited questions. He found himself in a similar situation in a group with Mr. Arnold and other shopkeepers. He watched on as Mutt’s spouse went up to Aziraphale and offered a hug. Mutt’s face lit up and he offered a hearty handshake and arm punch to the angel. Crowley saw the fire flash in Aziraphale's eyes. He was getting exactly what he wanted.

The angel had been watching Crowley and the crowds gathered around him. He saw lust and wonder. He felt the envy dripping from people who came up to point out how good he and Crowley looked. Aziraphale was even cognizant of the lustful looks he received. Several sins deep at this point, Aziraphale was elated at the attention.

Word made way round the bar and nearly everyone knew that congratulations were in order for the couple. Everyone, but Mr. Brown. He was blissfully unaware, taking solace in his drink and thinking of different ways to broach a difficult subject with Mr. Fell, who would clearly need his expert support during such a difficult time. How brave of him to walk into a pub with his alcoholic boyfriend. How terrible, too. He probably felt like he was babysitting the man. He watched as people constantly fussed over Mr. Crowley. He couldn't understand what they were seeing. It did seem rather odd that some people were pointing at his distended belly. Mr. Brown could never be so rude.

Crowley had visited the loo, happy to remember that this pub was a trans safe space and they had a single toilet washroom. Bladder needs met, he had a more devilish idea and set out to find Aziraphale.

Aziraphale was engaged in a heavy musical conversation with Mr. Arnold. Something something Baroque something. Crowley got his attention and the angel walked over to him.

“Is everything alright, my dear?”

“Peachy.” He leaned down to whisper in Aziraphale's ear. “They have a single bathroom.”

“Excellent! I am glad you have somewhere comfortable to go!” Clueless.

“Angel, they have a single bathroom,” he said in a more sultry tone, his eyebrows rising above his glasses.

“Yes, I heard you and - oh!! Oh!” A smile grew. He looped a finger into Crowley’s collar, noting with pride that someone had noticed the moment. He brushed his lips against Crowley’s ear. “Perhaps we should go together.” He took Crowley’s hand and led him to the washroom.

The washroom was tucked into a small, but fairly secluded corridor. Crowley slammed the door shut behind them and locked it, checking several times that the lock was holding.

Aziraphale pressed Crowley up against the door, standing on tip toe to reach his lips. Crowley fumbled with the angel’s suit jacket, finally pulling it off. Aziraphale hung it neatly on the hook next to the door. Crowley removed his sunglasses and stuffed them in a pocket in the suit jacket.

Back to kissing. Aziraphale reached for Crowley’s thighs, sliding his hand under the slit of the skirt. His hand found the damp heat covered by the tiniest amount of fabric. He slipped his hand into the knickers and buried his fingers between Crowley's folds, circling his hole before giving attention to his clit.

Crowley moaned into Aziraphale's mouth, trying his best not to make too much noise. A climax was already building, ready to burst forth quickly. He reached for Aziraphale's trousers. His attempt to unbutton and unzip was clumsy - he wasn't used to the way these trousers fastened, but he was eventually successful in reaching the angel’s hard cock. He hiked up the front of his skirt.

Aziraphale, still on tiptoe and desperately kissing his demon groaned at the feel of the hand on his cock. He removed his hand from Crowley's pussy. He brought his fingers to his mouth to taste them. “Mmm, you are rather delicious.” He brought his hand back down to draw it through the wetness. “How rude of me,” his fingers went up to Crowley’s mouth, “a polite gentleman always shares.” Crowley sucked on his fingers.

Aziraphale hooked an arm under Crowley’s knee. He did the same with the other leg. With a flourish, he lifted and pressed Crowley against the door more firmly. The demon was kind enough to wrap his arms and legs around Aziraphale, who pushed the crotch of his soaked knickers to the side.The angel grabbed his cock with one hand and found Crowley’s eager opening, wet and inviting. He plunged in with one easy glide.

Crowley pressed his head against the door and moaned softly. The initial thrust was all it took and his pussy was clenching and shaking around the angel's cock. He breathed Aziraphale's name into the angel’s own mouth.

Aziraphale began thrusting, staring into the lusty yellow eyes in front of him. He was thankful for his strength. Fucking a tall pregnant demon up against a door was hard work. Luckily, Aziraphale delighted in hard work.

They moved with a frenzied hunger, mouths pressed together for kisses and for breath, moans subdued, but not entirely quiet. The door was made of solid oak and good, English craftsmanship, able to take a beating with only a little noise on its part.

Aziraphale felt so sinful and demonic, fucking an actual demon up against door of a public washroom in a very public establishment. Someone tried the door and Aziraphale felt the weak hold on his orgasm control grow weaker. Someone out there would know what was happening in here. That the hottest creature in this pub was currently being railed by Aziraphale on the other side of that door.

Crowley was in Heaven. He felt a connection with the core of his being in this moment of raw, filthy lust. Despite his growing softness, he was still a demon and he had just tempted a pure, sweet angel from Heaven into pounding his cunt up against a door in public, with dozens of friends and associates mere feet away. He could hear the mix of their voices with the cheerful Christmas music and clinking of glasses. His pleasure was surging at the thought and it wasn’t long before his orgasm was meeting Aziraphale's, the hot spurts of cum coating him inside.

Aziraphale was the one to make the most noise and he didn’t give one single fuck. Crowley was yielding to him. Who could believe that sweet, fussy, old Mr. Fell would have the glamorous and somewhat slutty Anthony J. Crowley up against the door, his pussy wrapped around the gentleman’s fertile cock? Such a stunning creature was letting himself be filled with Aziraphale’s seed, right there in a public bathroom in the middle of Soho. Let them hear. Let them talk. They were enamoured with Crowley’s pregnancy. Now they can know how it happened.

Crowley left bites down Aziraphale’s neck before looking him in the eyes and thrusting his tongue into the angel’s mouth. The kissing was passionate, hungry. Lipstick was smeared on and around both sets of lips.

Crowley had one naughty move left in him when the angel gently let him down and slipped out of him. He reached his hand under his skirt to let the mix of cum and his own wetness drip onto his fingers. He could feel some slide down his thigh, too.

“What’s good for the goose, is good for the gander,” he said and he pushed his cum-coated fingers into Aziraphale’s mouth before licking his fingers clean and then kissing the angel deeply. They groaned into each other.

“Holy shit,” Aziraphale managed to whisper.

“Holy fuck,” Crowley answered with a laugh. He used his fingers to wipe some of the lipstick off Aziraphale’s face. “We’re a mess.”

They looked at themselves in the mirror and laughed. Hair and make-up would definitely need a touch up. So would Crowley’s stocking, now stained with cum. “Picture, first,” Crowley said, pulling his phone from Aziraphale’s pocket. A mirror selfie for their private collection.

Aziraphale pulled on Crowley’s collar and delivered a single lick to his neck. “I hope you know this is merely an appetizer, my darling.”

“Of course,” Crowley whispered.

“Do you think anyone heard us?” Aziraphale straightened his tie and pulled his suit jacket on.

“I hope to fuck they did.”

Normally, Crowley would like to stay as is with Aziraphale’s cum inside of him, dripping out slowly while he innocently made the rounds in the pub, but his thong wasn’t up to the task at holding things in and one of his stockings had already been smeared with it. Aziraphale miracled him clean and fixed make-up and hair.

Freshened up and giggling, they kissed a bit more before turning to leave the bathroom.

“I love you, Demon,” Aziraphale whispered, stroking the newly lengthened red curls on his lover.

“I love you, Angel.”

Aziraphale held Crowley’s hand and walked him out of the bathroom door, where they came face to face with Mr. Brown, who had just turned the corner. Oh, this would be fun. Aziraphale stepped slightly in front of Crowley, protective and at the ready for the carpet man’s nonsense.

Mr. Brown couldn’t believe his eyes. He thought he overheard someone mention that there was…indiscreet activity happening in one of the bathrooms. He couldn’t believe anyone at this party would do that - least of all Mr. Fell, the classiest gentleman he knows. He couldn’t believe how far the kindly old and, to be quite honest, virginal bookseller had fallen. All due to the influence of the hussy he kept around him. Mr. Brown had quite enough of this.

“Why…Why…never in all my…” Mr. Brown had a hard time finding his words. How does he confront the person who defiled such an angelic person as Mr. Fell?

Crowley began to make a show of adjusting his thigh high. “Mr. Fell was just helping me with my knickers. Oops, forgot I wasn’t wearing any.” He flashed a toothy smile. “It’s exactly what you think, if that’s what you’re trying to spit out.”

He refused to even acknowledge Crowley. “I’ve known you for decades, Mr. Fell. I never would have thought you would do something in such poor taste.”

“I assure you, Mr. Brown, he tastes absolutely delicious.” He swiped his thumb along his bottom lip to drive home the point.

Mr. Brown may actually have the vapors, he wasn’t quite sure yet. “Th-th-this is utterly unbecoming of a distinguished gentleman as yourself, Mr. Fell.” His voice was broken by disapproving squeaks.

“I am a distinguished gentleman, Mr. Brown. On that we agree. I disagree that it is unbecoming. The coming was just as delightful as the tasting.”

Crowley felt warmth surge to his center, where he was still sore and raw from the merciless pounding. If Aziraphale kept speaking this way, he was going to come right there in front of both of them. And wouldn’t that make everything even more awkward? “Oh, Angel, this is doing things to me,” he whispered in Aziraphale’s ear.

"Mr. Fell!" He barked. "I have always liked you and find you to be an upstanding member of our community and because of that I tolerate your…your friend and his constant uncouth behavior. However, I'm of good mind to report you to the owners of this establishment and to have you both removed for indecency."

Aziraphale moved completely in front of Crowley, shoulders squared and chest puffed. He took a menacing step toward Mr. Brown, the blue of his eyes a wild tempest. “How dare you,” he snarled, his voice low, deep, and threatening.

Crowley’s demonic anger began to blaze, which wasn’t a good combination with his surging hormones. Behind his glasses, his eyes were aflame. He nudged Aziraphale aside and got into Mr. Brown’s face. "Listen to me, you weaselly, pathetic fuck, whatever fun little tit for tat we've had for the past year is going to go up in flames and you'll be dealing with something a lot more sinister if you ever speak to him like that again or think of threatening him. Do I make myself clear?" Crowley’s hissed words were burning with hellfire.

Mr. Brown stumbled back, unable to speak due to the fear - a fear he had never experienced before, he swears, but seemed somewhat familiar, demonic.

Aziraphale took his place in front of Crowley again. This time, a protective arm was positioned in front of the demon’s belly. His voice was menacing. "I believe I told you I wouldn’t be kind if you continued this behavior, Mr. Brown." He took a step toward him, squaring up and staring him down. "I will not stand for the way you speak to him. You may think me a demure little fay of a man, but I assure you I will lose all restraint and decorum if you continue with this disrespect. The last punch was an accident. The next one won't be. Are we clear?”

Someone get a veil and virgin white dress because Crowley wanted to marry him right there. Right outside the loo.

Mr. Brown sputtered, unable to come up with a cohesive thought.

“I asked you a question, Mr Brown, and I expect an immediate answer.” Aziraphale looked down his perfect nose at the man. “Are we clear, Mr. Brown?"

“Y-y-yes,” the man choked out.

“By the way, Anthony is not my friend. He’s my fiancé.” He held up his manicured hand and pointed to his ring and then, in a move that guaranteed that Crowley will indeed get pregnant again in the future, he curled 4 fingers in and flipped the bird at Mr. Brown. He took Crowley’s hand. “Come along, darling,” he said, not bothering to look at Mr. Brown any longer.

Crowley teetered by dramatically. He turned and looked at the dull frame of a man slumped in the corridor. “Thanks for the foreplay!” he called out.

Returning to the party, Crowley and Aziraphale went back to having lively conversations. Locke, the owner of the nearest sex shop, passed by and whispered, “nice day collar,” to both of them. A few others had clocked the collar, which was a source of arousal for both.

They took a few moments to sit down in a booth in a quieter corner of the pub, holding hands, drinking faux cocktails, and giggling about their exploits. They were mid make-out session when a shadow blocked the light. Good fucking lord, this fucker was peristent.

“You have got to be the biggest bloody asshole I have ever encountered,” Crowley sneered. “You were warned, now you’ll deal with the consequences.” He slammed a fist on the table causing the ice in the glasses to rattle. He was ready to give him a matching black eye.

“I want to apologize!” Mr. Brown blurted. “Please. Mr. Fell, my partner succumbed to alcoholism. I buried him years ago.”

“I fail to see what that has to do with us nor do I care,” Azirphale said coldly.

Mr. Brown was stunned that someone like Mr. Fell could be so icy. “I know what it’s like to care for someone in active addiction. It’s draining. I merely wanted to be a support for you and my emotions got out of hand and I acted like a fool to you both.”

It clicked. “Wait, you think I’m an alcoholic?”

“The erratic behavior. The giddiness - you are not a giddy person. The non-alcoholic drinks. The ‘meeting.’ And, frankly, I recognize the alcohol bloat.” Mr. Brown tried to project confidence despite the shake to his voice and the hand that pointed at Crowley's midsection.

“You absolute git.” He grabbed his belly. “You’re going to feel very stupid, very soon.” It took everything in him not to lunge. His throat burned from the rage of the words he wanted to bring forth.

Aziraphale stood and raised his hand to grab Mr. Brown. He was going to end him…this, this. He was going to end this. Crowley’s hand was on his back.

“Angel,” he said softly. Crowley stared at Mr. Brown and leaned toward him. He lowered his glasses to reveal his golden snake eyes, electrified with pure anger, to send fear deep into the man. “You’re officially on my bad side,” he hissed.

Mr. Brown froze. He had no idea what he had just seen in the man’s eyes, but he knew he was in true danger. Sweat was beading on his forehead despite all of the heat leaving his body.

Aziraphale wanted to hurt him, deeply. He wanted to slam him against the wall and thrash him. He wanted to let Crowley loose. He wanted to make a scene.

That was it! He decided he would make a scene, indeed. Just not one that would give Mr. Brown the satisfaction of being a victim. He’d let Mr. Brown feel embarrassed as that was what the man had always tried to do to Crowley. He'd give Mr. Brown an undeniable rejection. He took Crowley by the hand and walked to the center of the pub. Crowley may be wearing a “cunt” earring, but Aziraphale would be cunty, darling.

Aziraphale clinked a glass with a fork. “May I have your attention, please? Everyone, please! Attention!”

Most of the room fell silent with exception of a few drunken murmurs coming from corners. Crowley would help by using a word he picked up in the Philly restaurant. Mmm. Cheesesteaks. Anyway, “YO!” he yelled, his voice echoing off the stained glass windows.
Now the pub was completely silent.

“I thank you,” Aziraphale smiled one of his soul-healing sunshine smiles. Fuck, he looked like the sun. “My fellow traders and shopkeepers. I’m sure you’ve all heard by now that I was due to host this holiday party. However, I had been unable to do so due to a turn of events in my personal life. How nice of Mr. Brown to take time from nursing his black eye so he could host this in my stead." He smiled warmly at the laughter that erupted. "I value your friendship and our shared love of our little spot in Soho so deeply. I would like to propose a toast.” He held up his glass.

He put his arm around Crowley and beamed at him. “To the person who has kept me quite busy these past few months and for very good reason. He's changed my life for the better in ways I never thought possible and my entire soul is blessed for it." He looked at the smiles on the faces before him. These folks were truly his friends. " I want to share with you all that Anthony and I are engaged to be married.”

The room was filled with cheers and the clinking of glasses and congratulatory shouts.

“Shhh. Shhhh. Thank you all so kindly. I know a rumor has spread through the party this evening. We -”

“Yes, that was us in the bathroom.” Crowley couldn’t help it. He looked over at Mr. Brown, who was sunken and dejected in his seat. Good. He waved and then licked his top lip seductively.

This time, the crowd answered with whistles, hollers, whooping, and more than one, “get it, Mr. Fell!”

Aziraphale blushed and then puffed his chest. “Okay, there is more than one rumor. We have another happy announcement. Anthony here," he put a hand over Crowley's belly, "is pregnant - we’re due to have a baby this Summer.”

The excitement that filled the room was electric and the noise of celebration became deafening. They were suddenly surrounded by everyone - save one carpet salesman - with offers of congratulations, shoulder pats, and hugs.

Crowley leaned down and kissed Aziraphale in a way that one usually does behind closed doors, but they didn’t care.

Mr. Brown sank further into his seat. “Pregnant,” he said to himself. "Pregnant." He got up. No one noticed him. They were too busy surrounding Mr. Fell and his pregnant fiancé. He slipped out of the door and into the night, muttering "pregnant" and "fiancé" repeatedly, and would not be seen again for quite some time. Legend has it, he spent one month rolled in a carpet fragment, clutching a newspaper, the headline of which read, "Mr. Fell and Anthony Crowley: In Love, Engaged, and Pregnant."

Despite the excitement and the joy of sharing their happy news, exhaustion eventually found Crowley and he indicated to Aziraphale that it was time to leave. He knew there would be a lot of excitement to be had in the bookshop for the rest of the night, so he wanted to conserve energy.

Many more hugs were exchanged before they walked out of the pub, hand in hand. Aziraphale kissed Crowley while he fumbled with the keys to the bookshop door. Inside, he swooped the demon into his arms. He carried a protesting and laughing Crowley up the stairs.

Chapter Text

Once freshened up, Crowley walked out of the bathroom to find the angel’s demeanor changed. He had removed his suit jacket and hung it up. His sleeves were rolled to the elbow. Here we go, Crowley thought. His thighs were damp.

Aziraphale was sitting in the chair at the vanity. “A rather nice vanity, hmm? You do like to look at yourself in the mirror, don’t you?”

“I do,” Crowley said, now standing in front of the angel.

“Why wouldn’t you? I would do the same if I looked like you.”

Crowley felt a pang in his heart. He knew this was the beginning of their scene, but the words hurt him. Aziraphale was every bit as beautiful, he thought. Moreso. He deserved to feel like it. He swallowed the moment of sorrow.

Aziraphale patted his thigh. “Leg up, darling. I’d like to get a closer look at one of those shoes.”

Crowley lifted his leg onto Aziraphale's thigh, careful not to let the heel get too pokey. The slit of his skirt parted to reveal his stocking clad-leg.

“Oh yes, these were a nice choice.” Aziraphale caressed the shoe and made his way up Crowley’s leg. “These, too.” He pushed the skirt up, moving the knickers aside to reveal Crowley’s pussy, and leaned forward to land a gentle kiss on the clit and a long swipe to the lips for good measure. “Now, my dear, “I promise you won’t wait long tonight. I just wonder if you would be so kind as to do me a favor, first.”

“Y-yes.”

“How lovely. Kneel for me darling. Hands in your lap. Oh, she listens so well.” He caressed Crowley’s cheek. “Look at all this beauty. You did your makeup just for me, didn’t you?” The demon nodded. Aziraphale’s fingers looped themselves through Crowley’s hair. “This hair. Did you know I’ve yearned to put my fingers in this hair for ages? It was so difficult to refrain from touching you all those years ago when you'd wear it long. Now, it’s here for me to touch. To play with.” He gathered the hair in a bunch at Crowley’s neck and gave a very gentle yank backward, bringing a gasp of pleasure forth from the demon. “Yes, I quite like that, too.”

Aziraphale stood. He began to loosen his tie and yanked it off. “Do you know why I chose these little bits of red for this evening?” He asked, running the tie over his palm. “I wanted to pay homage to your hair, to the red in your sigil, to the red in your scales. That’s what you do to me, my darling. You make me want to have my own little bit of demonic energy.” He looped his tie through the O-ring.

Crowley blinked. He was trembling in anticipation. His mouth was watering, his knickers were soaked. His cunt ached both from the action earlier and his increasing arousal. He was starved for Aziraphale. He wanted to serve him, to let him use his body as he pleased, to be pleasured into submission. A whimper escaped from his throat.

“What’s that, my dear?” He began to unfasten his trousers. “Are we feeling desperate?”

“Yesss.”

“Very well. I’m quite generous and won’t prolong this for you.” He gently yanked his tie, bringing Crowley off his haunches and to his knees, eye level with Aziraphale's cock.

The feel of being pulled by the collar left Crowley dripping through his thong. His thighs shook.

Aziraphale reached into his trousers. This next bit had taken an actual miracle. He pulled out a completely soft cock. “Oh dear. That won’t do. Perhaps you can help me remedy this?”

“Yes. Please.” Crowley was ready. He took the soft cock into his mouth and let it sit there. He knew what he was expected to do. No movement. No tongue or lip action. Just stillness on his part.

“Yes, my dear. Keep those lips around closed around my cock. Let him wake up inside your sinful mouth.” With the way Crowley’s lips looked with the red lipstick…Aziraphale hoped he didn’t need another miracle to make himself last. “Look at those beautiful red lips on my cock. Oh, we’ll make a mess of you soon.”

Crowley took deep breaths as the cock began to stiffen in his mouth. This part was always challenging, but it was something he thoroughly enjoyed. Something about being so submissive to Aziraphale made Crowley feel powerful. More breaths as the flesh hardened and the length and girth of Aziraphale’s thick cock began to stretch the demon’s mouth. He kept his throat relaxed, wide. He was thankful for his snake nature - a human throat may have struggled with what Aziraphale had to offer. Finally, the head of his cock began to slide past Crowley’s tongue and press against the back of his throat. He made a few minor movements to adjust the positioning, making sure to breathe through his nose. He felt the tears come as the tickling gag sensation grew. Aziraphale would never hurt him - this was part of it all and Crowley always enjoyed it.

“You looked like a goddess tonight. My Goddess. You were intoxicating. Did you see the way everyone looked at you? Did you see their lust? People of every gender wanted you. Did you know that?”

“Mmmmm” Crowley vibrated around the shaft.

“Yes, they did. I watched the desire in their eyes, the way they were drawn to you. Ah, but you’re mine. None of them can have you.”

Crowley’s clit twitched. He took faster breaths and blinked at the tears falling from his eyes.

Aziraphale watched the tears stream out of Crowley’s eyes while his cock found its way further down his throat. Crowley was so skilled. The demon’s nostrils flared up against the angel's pubic hair and his chest was rising and falling with greater effort. “Very good. You take that so well, Demon.” He wiped one of the tears away while tightening his grip on the tie.

Crowley gagged and his breathing became more erratic. He was close to tapping out, but he knew Aziraphale wouldn’t allow it to get that far. No sooner did he think it, than the angel grabbed Crowley's hair and began to withdraw his cock, now very slick with Crowley’s saliva and streaked with red lipstick.

“You’re doing so well, my love. Thank you for waking him up. Look at that lipstick smeared on my cock. Let me take care of you now.” He pulled Crowley to standing by the tie, and then pulled his head down to kiss him. “Sit in the chair now, my dear.” He angled the chair toward the mirror and stood in front of it, looking down at Crowley. Both of them were still fully dressed, with the exception of the large angelic cock hanging between them. “I want you to see what others see, what I see.” He knelt before him and pushed his skirt up again. “I’m going to give you thorough attention, but I need you to do something for me.” He yanked Crowley down to meet his face, pressing their lips together. He let go of the tie. “I want you to watch yourself in the mirror while I devour you. Look at your gorgeous lips, messy from my cock. Look into your own seductive eyes. I want you to watch the pleasure change your face as you moan and bite your lip while my tongue is inside you. See how beautiful you are, how tempting you are. Can you do that for me?”

Crowley swallowed. “Yes, Angel.”

“I’ll be watching. Keep your eyes on your reflection.” He buried his face into Crowley’s cunt, quickly putting his tongue to work. Crowley’s wetness tasted like the fruity mocktails they drank in excess this evening.

Crowley spread his legs very wide, giving Aziraphale plenty of access. Something about the simple act of spreading his legs for the angel made the pulsing heat in his pussy even stronger. He did as commanded and watched his own face in the mirror. His calm expression changed into one gripped by arousal. His freckled skin began to flush, starting from his chest and reaching to his cheeks. The rise and fall of his chest was more pronounced as his breathing deepened. His mouth parted. His brow began to knit together and the crow’s feet at his eyes became more pronounced as he squinted. His eyes and skin seemed to glow when the orgasm quaked, sending tremors above and below. He was gorgeous. He saw it.

“Was that enough? Would you like more?”

“More,” Crowley rasped.

Aziraphale was back to work, eyes floating up to be sure the demon was watching himself.

Crowley was panting. He began to fondle his own chest through his shirt, one hand moving up to touch his neck, which he arched back slightly. He loved his long, graceful neck. He could understand why Aziraphale was always nibbling at it. He stayed affixed to his own golden eyes. His hand traveled back down to the angel's head and grasped the well-behaved curls, causing Aziraphale to groan loudly against his pussy. The angel's tongue was exploring his opening with long, languid laps. Coupled with the vibrations from the groan, Crowley was about to lose it. He propped one long leg up on the vanity and watched his face, overcome with ecstasy once again. He grabbed his own hair with his other hand, arching his head back, eyes still in the mirror, as he was worked through by his climax.

Aziraphale lifted himself to his knees. He kissed a breast through the fabric before pulling on the tie and bringing Crowley's red, panting face to his to deliver a cunt-flavored kiss. "Mmmm. You are doing so well, my darling." He cupped his face with one hand. "I would like to fuck you now." He kissed him again and stood up. He guided Crowley to stand up as well.

"Look at how gorgeous you are, messy lipstick and flushed face." He brushed his thumb down his cheek and over his bottom lip. "This hair - oh I should quite like to pull it while I'm deep inside you. Wouldn't that be nice?"

"Yes, Angel."

"I thought so. Let's get you out of this skirt, shall we? He slowly knelt to remove the skirt, pulling it down to allow Crowley to step out of it, one leg at a time. "Keep those stockings and shoes on for me dear. He stood and grabbed the hem of the demon's shirt. This color was a nice touch." He lifted it over Crowley's head, giggling at the extra height difference, revealing the mesh bra that he didn't even know had been under there. Oh, that was quite different and awakened a new level of desire within him.

"What's this, now?" He took a step back to look Crowley up and down. The demon stood there in his high heels and thigh highs and matching thong and bra. Aziraphale was transfixed by the way his curly red pubes showed through the knickers and his pink, hardened nipples pressed against the fabric of the bralette. "Oh, you do fill this out quite nicely." He ran a finger along the seam of the bralette, over a breast. He moved closer once again, bending a little to take a covered breast in his mouth. "Did you wear this just for me?"

"It's all for you, Angel."

Crowley's legs shook. Aziraphale's eyes met his with the hint of a question. Checking in. Crowley ran both hands through the back of Aziraphale's hair, pressing his head into his chest for his answer.

"Lean over the vanity for me, darling. Watch that sensual face in the mirror." Aziraphale guided him. He snapped the thong fabric in the crevice between Crowley's ass cheeks. "One wonders the purpose of such a tiny amount of fabric with these knickers. I must admit, I am quite enchanted by it." He ran both palms over his ass before looping his fingers around the thong and pulling it to the side.

Crowley smiled. That's the whole point, he thought. At least for him. Crowley leaned all the way down on his forearms and adjusted his legs to make it easier for the angel to reach him. He met angel eyes in the mirror.

"Who will you watch while I fuck you?" Aziraphale licked his fingers - unnecessary as Crowley was more than wet enough…he just liked doing it, it felt almost depraved - and swiped them along Crowley's pussy, bringing a moan from the demon. He moved his hand up and down his shaft, bringing the head to Crowley's opening and teasing it there.

"M-my-myself, Angel." He brought his eyes back to his reflection. "Please."

"Of course, darling. I promised you wouldn't wait tonight." He dipped the head of his cock in slowly and then pulled it out before letting it slide back in, centimeter by centimeter until he was fully seated. He spread Crowley's ass so he could enjoy the beguiling view of his pink cunt gripping his cock.

Crowley's back began to break out into a sweat as the thrusting from behind increased in speed. He wondered how Aziraphale was surviving in his suit clothes while working so hard. It was hot as fuck though, being almost completely naked while the angel was dressed. Crowley was obsessed with the strong hands that gripped his ass and the angel’s defined forearms. It was enough to make him…he watched his face gently twist and change from another orgasm before relaxing into pleasured serenity again.

"Do you know what it's like being so enraptured by a temptress such as yourself, Demon?” His breath was beginning to strain. He ran his fingers through Crowley’s hair, gathering it and giving it just a small tug. “Magnificent and frightening. The hold you have over me is - " his sentence was cut off by his own groan as Crowley tightened around him. His demon was focused on his reflection - such a good listener.

"I often find myself euphoric over the way you move.” He caressed the demons hips, awestruck at the way they’ve changed shape. “These dazzlingly demonic hips leave me with no choice but to worship you. I'd love to see the way you move on my cock."

Oh, fuck, Crowley thought. This was new. Aziraphale stopped thrusting. Crowley slid himself back and forth on the cock at first before beginning to show off his moves. His hips swayed back and forth, up and down, and in circles. He moved with serpentine undulations, slowly and with practiced skill. In the reflection, it looked like he was dancing, almost as if he was giving a standing lapdance. He stole a glance at Aziraphale's face, which was so overtaken and lost in the provocative movements of the demon. Crowley felt the fire build in his belly again, ready to blaze forth.

"That's it. Yessss," Aziraphale hissed. That was a request he planned to keep in his back pocket for the future. He began thrusting again, bringing himself to a moderate tempo. "Tell me what you find beautiful, Demon. In your reflection."

"M-my hair. My eyes. My neck. My-my tits. They're so beautiful. My hips. I fu-fucking love the way they can move." He cried out the last syllable - Aziraphale hit a sensitive spot very deep within.

"Mmmm. That’s quite nice. What else? I want to hear more." He was beginning to lose his control over himself. The pressure in his cock was building and he’d be helplessly lost to his temptress. Crowley could see himself as the beautiful creature he is and it drove Aziraphale wild because he was his.

"The way my body responds to you." He moaned loudly at that same deep spot, now consistently being brushed against by the head of Aziraphale's cock.

"What's the most beautiful thing in your reflection?" Aziraphale knew he'd choose his hair as the style was so new. Or his tits because…well, titties.

"You," Crowley moaned. Just a touch of disobedience. He's a demon after all.

Aziraphale was caught off guard - and touched - by the response. Regaining some control, he quickened his pace and thrust even harder.

Both of them were transfixed at the sight of Crowley's tits swaying as the demon's body was rocked by the vibrations of Aziraphale's hips pounding against him. They caught each other's eyes for a moment and Crowley smiled wickedly. He gripped the edges of the vanity as his next climax began to emerge.

Aziraphale's ass and belly tightened and his cock began to pulsate with the force of his incoming orgasm. He grabbed Crowley's hair and yanked his head back, pulling him upward. The demon twisted to meet him for a kiss, growling into his mouth until he had to let go and gasp, overtaken by his pleasure. Aziraphale met him in that place, crying out with his own climax, his cum bursting forth into Crowley. He looked down and saw the mix of his cum and Crowley's wetness gathered at his hole and collapsed onto the demon's back, aftershocks shooting through his body.

Crowley relished being pinned down this way and he just let himself be, panting, dripping, full of sweat. There was a thrill in being worshipped as well as used all at once.

Aziraphale kissed the back of Crowley's head, his ear, and his hair before standing up. He pulled out and shuddered with excess ecstasy when the move caused a not insignificant amount of cum to drip out of Crowley. He guided Crowley to standing and then helped the trembling demon sit down on the chair. He knelt before him, reverently. One last gentle yank to the tie looped into the collar brought Crowley to his face for a very long, very sweet kiss.

"I love you, Demon."

"I love you, Angel."

Aziraphale sank down and put his head in Crowley's lap, wrapping his arms around him. The top of his head pressed against the baby bump. He was content for a million and one reasons.

Crowley looked down at Aziraphale, peaceful in his post-fuck bliss. He twirled fingers into his hair, drawing circles on his scalp with his fingertips. He felt a surge of unnameable pleasant emotions when the angel lifted his head and kissed his belly.

Aziraphale preferred to stay there for some time as it felt incredibly warm and safe. However, he’d put Crowley through a lot and the demon was clearly spent and hungry. Still kneeling, he leaned up and reached behind Crowley’s neck to undo the collar. Crowley bent down to kiss him. Once unfastened, he placed it on the vanity. “This was a rather nice touch for the evening.”

“Mmmm. I love it. It’s so beautiful and it felt amazing to wear. Can’t wait to wear it again.” He kissed Aziraphale once more.

“Soon, darling.” He stood up and fastened his trousers. “I shall return in a jiffy with your traditional resuscitation snacks.” He popped a kiss onto Crowley’s forehead and made his way to the kitchen to make up a tray of fruits, cheese, a few biscuits, and the usual orange juice to revive his well-fucked demon. What a night, he thought. There was so much to process, but they would get to that later. First, food for Crowley. He walked in to find Crowley still in his undergarments, stockings, and shoes. He stopped to stare for just one indulgent moment. Crowley was leaning back, face to the ceiling, long hair cascading down the back of the chair. The position highlighted the length of his neck and drew the eyes all the way down past his chest, to the curve of belly, and to his crossed legs and those literal fuck me pumps.

“Here we are my dear,” he said cheerfully, a contrast to the softly demanding bastard he had been for their session. “Plenty to nosh on.” He set the tray on the vanity and pulled his armchair over. They shared in the late night snacks. Aziraphale got up and stood behind Crowley to massage his neck and his shoulders. Crowley rolled his head and stretched as his muscles were soothed and relaxed. His hair was sweaty and clung to the back of his neck in little snaky spirals.

“Can I draw a bath for you, my darling?” The poor pregnant demon had been fucked up against a door and pleasured while bent over his vanity. He must be in great need of a long soak and a thorough massage.

“Not yet. I’m not done with the hottest and most badass angel I know.” He put a hand over one of Aziraphale’s hands, fingers working at a tense bit of muscle, and looked up at him. “Come over to the bed with me.” He stood, kicking off his shoes. “Comfortable as fuck, thank you, but damn glad to get them off now.”

Standing next to the bed, Crowley began to undress Aziraphale. ”This was an excellent design, Angel. I hope to see it again soon.” Waistcoat off, he undid the shirt buttons, removing that and his vest. “Did you see how people looked at you?” He kissed his neck. “I know you were all about me, but I watched the eyes on you. You shone like a cluster of stars. People couldn’t stop staring.” He knelt to remove his trousers. “I saw lust and longing, Aziraphale. I don’t think you know what you do to people. They were sssinning in their minds over you.” Socks and their garters remained. He pulled sensible striped boxers down and immediately swallowed the cock that sprang forth to reinvigorate it. Cock mission accomplished, he stood up and kissed him. Together, they removed Crowley’s undergarments, laughing as Aziraphale tried to unhook a bra that didn't have hooks. “This kind slips over the head, love.”

Crowley guided him onto the bed, leaving him to sit up against the pillows and headboard. He straddled his sturdy and soft thighs, hovering over his cock for a few moments. “You were radiant tonight. So fucking hot.” He lowered himself, sheathing Aziraphale’s cock completely in one skilled slide downward. He moaned into his mouth. “I was so wet for you the entire night.” His movements were snakelike as he once again undulated his hips on Aziraphale’s cock, just as he had at the vanity tonight. Crowley was giving him a lapdance while being fucked.

“You were incredibly hot in that suit.” He licked his neck up to his ear, leaving teeth marks on the lobe. “You were incredibly hot fucking my whore pussy up against that bathroom door.” He licked at Aziraphale’s lips and nipped the bottom one.

They were both a sweaty mess. Aziraphale was gripping Crowley’s hips and staring into the demon’s eyes, obsessed with his words. Crowley’s movements were as alluring as every word he spoke. He was lost to him, happily at his mercy.

“People heard us. They knew. Sweet, wholesome, angelic Mr. Fell was pounding his slut of lover in a public washroom.” He smiled wickedly and licked his lips at the sinful flash of pride in Aziraphale’s eyes. “I nearly came from you fighting with Mr. Brown. I don’t think you know what your angry and protective side does to me. It drives me fucking wild.” He bit his neck, maybe not so gently as the angel yelped in both ecstasy and pain. He could see by the lust in his eyes that he liked it. They were both getting close, shaking and full of sweat, Aziraphale’s fingers digging into the new softer flesh at Crowley’s hips. He continued his serpentine dance on the angel’s cock before going in for the kill.

“But you know what really drives me wild, Aziraphale?” The angel moaned loudly at the sound of his own name. Crowley guided one of Aziraphale’s hands to a breast and held it as the angel caressed him there, crying out when he dipped his head to take it in his mouth. He let him play there for a few minutes, holding off his orgasm as he continued the sinewy moves on the angel’s thick length.

He cupped his face and brought it to his own. “What really drives me wild is that everyone in that pub tonight looked at my tits and my belly.” He sucked at the spot where he had bitten, tasting and licking the blood there, and brought a strangled sob out of the angel. “They looked at me and they knew. They knew that you filled me up with your seed and made my belly grow thick. That’s what they’ll think about when they see us from now on. This is your work.” That was all it took to break through both of them. They crashed their lips and their chests together, arms tightly wrapped around one another as their orgasms rippled and shook through their bodies. Crowley rode Aziraphale hard through it, bringing himself one more orgasm that squeezed aftershocks out of Aziraphale’s cock.

Kissing, they slumped together as Aziraphale leaned back into the headboard. “That was…fuck…and then…I-I-I…uh…tits…and...well, fuck,” Aziraphale glitched while Crowley began to giggle. He rolled the demon back and kissed him furiously. “You fucked the words out of me, Demon,” he laughed.

A bath was in order. They faced one another in the tub, Crowley’s feet in Aziraphale’s lap, where he massaged them. “I don’t know how practical those shoes will be throughout your pregnancy, but I look forward to seeing them again.”

“I look forward to wearing them again. Thank you, Angel.” Crowley was exhausted. The night had been very long, though exhilarating.

Aziraphale dried him off before bringing him back to bed, where he massaged his entire body before Crowley fell into a deep sleep. Aziraphale cuddled up next to him, hand over the belly that would now be the subject of chatter among his fellow shopkeepers. A smile grew - they’d know who put that there. He drifted into a light sleep of his own.

Chapter Text

Aziraphale awoke to a soft kiss on his neck. Amber eyes were looking into his own. The sun had barely broken the horizon and it seemed the tiny bit of light in the room was coming from Crowley.

“Sorry, Angel,” Crowley kissed his neck. There was quite a bruise there from last night. The angel liked being bitten and sucked like that, but Crowley thought maybe it was a little too much. Sometimes he didn't think of how sharp his teeth were.

“For what? Oh. The bite?” He felt the spot on his neck. It was a tiny bit sore, which he enjoyed. He hoped it stayed sore through the day as a reminder. “You know I like this.”

“I made you bleed.” He circled a finger around the bite.

“I know. And you sucked it. We’ll add vampire to your resume.” Aziraphale pretended to bite Crowley’s neck. “I vant to suck your blud, ah ah ah,” he said in his best (worst) Transylvanian vampire accent.

Crowley pulled a pillow over his face. “No. Nope. No way,” came his muffled voice. “I’m not getting up until you stop being embarrassing.”

“Oh, that will be a rather long wait, my dear.” He pulled the pillow off him and popped a kiss on his lips. “Embarrassing demons is part of my original job description. I’m not one to be a braggart, but I am rather good at it.” He tapped fingers along Crowley’s arm.

“Better at that than making them avaunt, that’s for damn sure,” Crowley teased.

“Oh, that was rather on purpose so I could eventually lure you into my lair and have my way with you. Works every damn time.” Aziraphale pinned Crowley’s wrists and nibbled kisses along the demon’s neck, who squealed uncontrollably (again, demon’s don’t squeal and any resemblance to such a noise is pure coincidence and will be thoroughly denied by one Anthony J. Crowley).

Sleepy morning sex followed, thanks to the insatiable hormones of the demon, and Crowley found himself dozing in Aziraphale’s arms for another hour after.

He was awoken by Aziraphale's usual round of freckle kisses.

“You looked like a loaf of bread with the way you were curled up.” Aziraphale laughed.

Crowley groaned. “Hungry?”

“Starved. With those freckles, you're a proper loaf of bara brith.” He nibbled from Crowley's shoulder down his arm to his hand and over to his belly. “You even have a bun in the oven. Nom nom nom.”

Crowley groaned even louder before giving into a laugh. “I can't be subjected to this again. And that's speckled bread, not freckled.”

“Same difference. Come to think of it, I haven't had proper bara brith in ages.” He wiggled his fingers. “I think I know what I’ll make once we're back at the cottage. I’ve given myself a hankering.” He wiggled his shoulders.

Crowley stretched and yawned. “Right. I’ve got a hankering for these angel cakes.” He slapped Aziraphale's bum. “As long as we're being embarrassing.”

Breakfast and getting dressed for the day followed. Aziraphale smiled when tightening his bow tie and feeling the soreness from the bite under it.

Crowley had brought the glam the previous night, so he opted for comfort on this day. His most comfy black maternity jeans and a long-sleeved grape Henley were on order - buttons undone to tempt an angel, of course. He enjoyed the way the top clung to his body, highlighting his pregnancy. He added a few subtle swipes of eyeliner and mascara. Lavender Doc Martens he recently found in a shop, his “c-u-n-t” ear crawler, and his standard blazer rounded out his outfit for the day. He pulled the top half of his hair back and secured it in a little bun, leaving the rest of his waves down to graze his shoulders. Little tingles of euphoria danced in his brain.

“What was that delightful phrasing you used a while back?” Aziraphale asked as he tied his shoes. “Ah, yes, you’ve stolen all the gender, my dear.” He kissed his cheek. “Second breakfast at Nina’s?”

Crowley loved that comment more than he let on. “Sounds good, Angel.”

“I must admit, that particular hairstyle does things to me. It will be hard to thwart your demonic wiles today, of that I am certain.”

“I’ll be sure to make it very, very hard, Angel.” He smiled wickedly and flicked his tongue. “Right! Second breakfast? I’ve barely eaten anything today.”

“Off we pop, Pippin.” Aziraphale chuckled at Crowley’s assertion that he barely ate. He had a proper full English that morning, followed by two smoothies. Aziraphale was grateful that morning sickness seemed to be fading from their daily routine over these last weeks.

************
Nina sat at the table as they were finishing breakfast. “You two certainly made an impression last night,” she said with a large smile on her face. “You were both dressed to kill.”

Aziraphale blushed. “We certainly had a lovely time. You and Maggie looked rather smashing as well.”

“Thank you, Mr. Fell. You were the talk of the pub after you left.” She rested her chin on her hand.

“Oh dear. Is that - is that a good thing or a bad thing?” He squeezed his fingers.

“Very good. You’re well-loved here and people are very happy for you both. I think it was also nice to see you out of your shell and so open with Anthony,” she said warmly. “Plus, you didn't let Mr. Brown steamroll you.”

Most of the party goers had no clue what really went down with the carpet seller last night. They had only heard the quips and toast from Crowley and Aziraphale.

“Well, ah, he’s been a bit too forward lately and I think,” he looked over at a smirking Crowley, “I think he may have gotten the message.”

Nina’s smile grew. “Is it true? Were you up to something in the loo?”

Aziraphale sputtered his sip of tea and Crowley laughed. “You saw him last night. Could you blame me if I couldn’t wait to make it allllll the way home? Something was definitely ‘up’ in that loo.” Crowley clapped a now coughing Aziraphale on the back.

Nina blushed and laughed. “You two are something else for sure. Trouble, the lot of you today.” She put a hand over Aziraphale's . “Congratulations, by the way, on the announcement. That must feel good.”

“It does,” Crowley was now rubbing circles on Aziraphale’s back while the angel regained composure. “I was told some people around here had already guessed.”

“They did. I overheard some chatter in this shop. Kept my lips zipped, though.” She looked back toward the line growing at the counter with just one barista. “Well, I need to head back. Will you two be staying here for the New Year? We’ve missed you.”

“I’m afraid not my dear. We’re actually headed back to the cottage this afternoon.” Aziraphale dabbed his lips with a napkin and cleared his throat. “We’d love to have the two of you for a visit soon. Perhaps when it gets a little warmer?”

“We’d love that, Mr. Fell. Let me bag up some pastry for your drive.”

They exchanged good wishes for a New Year before leaving. “Walk in the park?” Aziraphale asked Crowley.

They made their way to St. James, taking advantage of a rather sunny and moderately chilly day for late December. Aziraphale manifested three bags of peas for the ducks. Well, two for the ducks. “Have at it, dear - your very own bag.”

“So. Last night,” Crowley said as they settled onto their bench.

“Last night,” Aziraphale sighed. “T’was a rather lovely evening, all in all. Just a minor spoil with that infernal…mmm…” he felt anger come quickly at the thought of Mr. Brown’s intrusion on their night. He balled his fists and tightened his lips.

Crowley noticed. “Old instincts never really go away, do they?” He took a fist in his hand, caressing it until Aziraphale relaxed it.

“They do not.” He looked down at both their hands. “Now they're coupled with new instincts.”

“I felt it in you. Haven’t felt that kind of rage pouring out of you in some time, Angel.”

“I’ve always been protective of you. You know that. It’s merely amplified now. That wasn’t even a small fraction of it.”

“Oh, don’t I know it. I know what you're capable of. Love it, too.” Crowley smiled. “Thank you for defending my honor.”

Aziraphale looked at him and brushed a flyaway curl from his face. “Always, my dear boy. I admit, your anger towards him made me nervous with your condition. You’ve always been there for this damsel in distress and I do thank you.”

“Being rescued makes you so happy,” Crowley laughed.

“Rescuing me makes you happy,” Aziraphale countered.

“Oh, you think that’s what it is?” Crowley asked, an amused expression on his face. He let out a deep sigh. “Such a fucking wanker, that guy, yeah?”

“The wankiest of wankers.”

Crowley snorted. “You're too adorable sometimes. Perfect cover for my secret assassin bodyguard. Always keeping us safe while looking like a cimin - cinmonim - cinnamon roll.” He let fingers drift to his belly.

Aziraphale puffed his chest up. He liked the words from his demon. Secret assassin bodyguard. He trailed fingers along Crowley's bump. “I’d do anything to protect you both.” Even the unthinkable, he thought to himself.

Crowley put an arm around his shoulder and kissed his temple. “We’re grateful for that, Angel.” He laughed. “Wonder where Mr. Brown is hiding out.”

“Who knows? Perhaps in a pile of carpet remnants. I do have it on good authority that every newspaper he reads for the next week will feature a headline about you and me getting married and having a baby.” Aziraphale smirked. He was proud of that bit.

Crowley’s eyes widened behind his glasses. “Aziraphale!” He cackled. “That's positively demonic.” He pretended to wipe a tear. “Can't tell you how proud I am. My little angel is growing up.”

“Better that than what I was going to do in the pub last night.” His tone was more serious. “Are you okay? You’re strong, but those comments were unkind and you didn't deserve them.”

“I’ve had worse, Angel.” Crowley focused on two ducks taking flight from the water.

“That may be, Crowley, but it doesn't mean you have to accept such behavior now. My question remains - are you okay?”

“Mmmm. M'okay, Angel. Didn't like the alcoholic stuff. Maybe it hits too close for me. Terrible way to speak to someone you think is an alcoholic. Even addicts deserve compassion, not his judgment, yeah?”

“That they do.” Aziraphale leaned against him. “His pain is real, but it's not an excuse to speak to you or judge you in that manner.”

“Some of it is also fueled by jealousy. He’s been pining for you forever. Don't blame him.” Crowley took a deep breath. “He had no right to say anything to me. I know that.” There were parts of him that were still getting used to the fact that he deserved to be treated with respect.

They sat in silence and watched various waterfowl and songbirds until Aziraphale spoke up again. “As much as I’ve liked having such a delicious secret for these past few months, I do quite enjoy that my fellow shopkeepers know about your pregnancy now. It’s nice having a lot of people excited for us.”

Crowley stayed quiet for a while longer, watching a few squirrels run around one another. He felt bubbling in his chest - words and emotions that he needed to let out. Lots and lots of them.

“It’s like I said a few months ago - we fought so hard to be able to have this, Angel. Literally took on Heaven and Hell. We put our entire existence at stake to be together, to do right by the world that we’ve fallen in love with. We’ve seen how fleeting it can all be and we’ve both made mistakes with one another.”

He looked at Aziraphale’s hand, still on his belly and rested his hand on top, tracing his finger on the angel’s engagement ring. “I want to live this out loud from now on. It’s not just us any longer. We’re a group of the three of us now. I want our child to watch us love one another, openly and proudly. I want our world to celebrate this with us - our love, my pregnancy, the baby when they come. Maybe it’s selfish, Aziraphale, but we deserve this. You, especially, deserve to feel like you are enough and worthy of celebration. And don’t try to counter with talk about me. Let me put you on a pedestal now and then. It does me some good, too. You’re the purest form of love I’ve ever known. You put everything on the line for us. Your very soul. Now, here we are - we’re able to love freely. Somehow, miraculously, pregnant. We are safe. Fuck me, I’m going to be obnoxious about it and let the world see how much I love you. I’m not letting our baby ever feel fear about whether or not they are worthy or loveable or safe. I won’t let them be shamed about who they are or who their parents are. That starts with you and me and how we express ourselves both privately and publicly. Anyone who has a problem with that can get fucked.”

He hadn’t realized that tears had fallen down his face. He wiped under his glasses. “Damned hormones.”

Aziraphale remembered to breath. “Crowley…” he said softly while a small cry bobbed in his throat and his chest shuddered. He drew Crowley in, wrapping his arms around him tightly, and hugged him, pouring his love out into the demon. Crowley had just summed up both of their feelings so beautifully. It’s happened a lot in the last year, but Aziraphale would never tire of an open and raw Crowley. He felt his tears dampen the collar of Crowley's blazer. He left a kiss on the skin just above it.

“I love you so much, Crowley.”

“I love you, Angel.” He kissed him gently. He pretended the ducks quacking in the distance were shouting their approval. Perhaps they were.

“Everything you said…oh, Crowley, you said it perfectly.” Aziraphale leaned their foreheads together. “You always do.”

After the park, they headed to lunch to satisfy Crowley's newest urgent craving - cheesesteaks. Passyunk Avenue, it was.

“I love you and the baby more than anything in the Universe, Angel. After that comes cheesesteaks,” Crowley said as they waited for their order.

They got takeaway cheese steaks for, as Crowley put it, “a light snack later.” Crowley also showed off some Philly prowess. “Want to see people lose their shit? This is how you solve any problems in Philly, take it from me,” he said as they made their way to the exit. He turned and yelled, “Go Birds!”

The entire establishment erupted in cheers with “Go Birds!” callbacks and a chorus of “Fly Eagles Fly.”

They laughed as they emerged from the restaurant. “See? So easy to get them excited.”

Their next few days were spent simply. They packed up the Bentley, cheesesteak snacks included, and headed back to their cottage. New Year's arrived without much fanfare. Crowley told Aziraphale that he “couldn’t hang,” as he curled up against him on the sofa early in the evening and requested to be woken up at 11:55 pm so he could see the festivities on TV, kiss an angel, and fall back to sleep.

As requested, Aziraphale woke him up in time to ring in the New Year. They shared a very long kiss that followed them into the bedroom. Crowley had found himself reenergized enough for some New Year’s lovemaking.

He held Aziraphale to his chest after. “Do I make the reasonably terrible joke about ushering in the New Year with a bang?” He laughed at himself.

Aziraphale groaned. “Let’s hope that's your worst joke of the year.”

“A bold hope, Aziraphale. Very bold.” He gave him a squeeze.

Aziraphale looked up at him. “This is the year our baby will be born. We have a lot to look forward to, my dearest. A wedding. Our baby. I am eager to have it all unfold.”

Crowley kissed the crown of his head. “Same here, Angel. Starting this year as Anthony J. Crowley. Ending it as….Anthony J. Crowley-Fell? Anthony Fell, for short. Mum of one little sprout, name to be determined by their Papa.” How’s that for New Year’s with a bang, he thought. He hadn’t mentioned the naming bit to Aziraphale yet.

Aziraphale leaned up. “Anthony Fell? Crowley-Fell? Are you…are you quite certain?”

“You don’t like them?”

“I do. I love them. I want you to love them, too.”

Crowley smiled at him. “You’re asking because it sounds like I am saying Crowley fell. That I’ve fallen.”

“If I’m being honest, yes. I want to be sure that’s what you want.” Aziraphale mindlessly played with Crowley’s chest hairs. “I don’t want you to feel your name is a reminder…”

“I did fall, Angel,” he said softly. “For all of the trauma that we’re working through because of it, we can still acknowledge that it brought me here. I’ll say it again and again - I’d fall a billion times over if it meant being in this moment with you, ready to marry you and have your baby. Anthony J. Crowley-Fell. Gonna make it all legal and shit.”

Aziraphale leaned up and kissed him. “I love you, future Mr Fell.”

“I love you, Angel.” He waited for the other realization to hit Aziraphale. It was late. Crowley had fucked him hard and his brain was probably still rearranging itself back to normal. He couldn’t blame him for missing that second bit about names.

Aziraphale laid his head back on Crowley’s chest. The demon wanted to take his name. And the baby…oh! He popped his head up.

“You want me to name the baby?!” His voice was high and eager.

“I do,” Crowley whispered. It was something that just felt right to him. He brushed his hand through Aziraphale’s sex-sweaty hair. “Is that okay with you?”

“Crowley, I…are you sure? You trust me?” Aziraphale didn’t have words yet. It was true - the demon had fucked his brain into a scramble.

“Angel, I’ve trusted you since before this little blue rock existed. I don’t know if you’ve noticed over this past year, but I’ve trusted you with my entire body. I trusted you enough to conceive and carry your baby. I think we’ve got the trust on lock.” He took a deep breath. “How ‘bout this - you do the first name. I do the middle name. Deal?”

Aziraphale was honored. “I rather like that.”

“To add to that, I’d like it to be a surprise.”

“A surprise? How so?” He shimmied up to lay face to face with Crowley.

“I don’t want to know what name you’ve picked until the birth.” He stared into the angel’s eyes. He hoped this wasn’t too awkward at this point. Admittedly, it was a bit late to just spring this on him, post-sex or not.

“Crowley, you’ve given me everything already…” the tears were on their way.

“Angel, you’ve given me life. My own and the baby. I can’t tell you what that means to me.” He swiped at a tear on Aziraphale’s cheek, ignoring the one falling down his own.

“I can’t wait to meet them, Crowley.” They cuddled in silence until Aziraphale randomly started giggling. He couldn’t help it. A name just popped into his head.

“Little baby Tartan Fell. Has a ring to it. Ooops! Didn’t mean to spoil the surprise.” He failed to control the giggles.

Crowley laughed. “Well! That goes perfectly with the middle name I picked out. Little Tartan MacPlaidface Fell,” he sighed wistfully. “Oh, Angel! We have a name!” He kissed him sloppily.

They laughed together until they were exhausted and finally fell asleep clinging to one another, dreams of little baby Tartan MacPlaidface dancing in their head.

Chapter Text

The first week of the New Year marched along rather quietly. Aziraphale and Crowley spent their days taking long walks, cooking, resting, and making love. Crowley was feeling more at ease in his pregnancy with bits of energy coming back and the nausea finally seeming as if it was done. He had new symptoms to contend with - tiny back aches that would crop up if he stood in the same spot too long and some of the soreness in his chest returned.

Crowley began writing out lists of supplies needed for his garden and the greenhouse. He would be spending part of this month planning out the various plants and his growing schedule, starting with the greenhouse. A few trips to garden centers later, he had plenty of starter pots, seeds, and what seemed like literal tons of soil to get to work on his growing projects for this year.

Aziraphale tended to his knitting, becoming more serious about knitting little baby hats and booties to start with before moving on to jumpers. He found a simple happiness in the rhythm of knitting, especially when his projects were meant to go on a tiny little baby. The whole process was relaxing and meditative. With each row of knitting, he thought of their sweet baby wearing one of his creations. He’d often find his heart jumping for joy and, of course, his eyes getting slightly misty. In the evenings, Crowley would carefully curl as much as himself into Aziraphale’s lap on the sofa while the angel continued his knitting.

Crowley began to lovingly refer to the baby as “Baby Tartan,” after their silly discussion on New Year’s. Aziraphale had obviously been joking in their post-sex delirium, but Crowley found it rather charming. At times when he wanted to be more serious, he used the full name - Baby Tartan MacPlaidface Fell. He assured Aziraphale that he would never, no absolutely never use that name publicly or tell anyone that was the baby’s actual name. Crowley, known for his straight-laced personality, would never joke about something like that.

,

“Tartan MacPlaidface!” Crowley exclaimed. “I left it up to Papa here and you know how much he loves a fine Scottish print. A fitting name for the first addition to our clan, yeah?”

First addition? Aziraphale eyed Crowley, who is too busy enjoying the expression on the faces of their friends to notice. The angel tucked those two little words into a pocket in his mind to think about later.

They were sitting at a cafe in town near their cottage with Nina and Maggie. Maggie was due to meet a fellow record dealer closer to Brighton that day. They called Aziraphale and Crowley and asked if they would like to meet for lunch.

“I want to say you can’t be serious, but with the two of you I’m not so sure.” Nina eyed them each suspiciously. Crowley was always joking with her and she had a rather good handle on him most of the time, but he could throw her for a loop now and then.

“Would I lie to you?” Crowley asked innocently with a bright smile, batting lashes behind his glasses.

“YES!” Maggie, Nina, and Aziraphale said in unison.

“Ok. Wow. Call a bloke out, then.” He stabbed at his jacket potato with a fork.

“So, do you have an actual name, then? Did you change your mind about finding out what you’re having?” Maggie asked. She brushed a few crumbs that had fallen on her blouse.

“Not quite, my dear.” Aziraphale began. “We haven’t picked out a name. We know we’re having a baby.” He brought a forkful of cottage pie to his mouth. “Tartan MacPlaidface will let us know who they are at the birth, I presume.”

“Baby Tartan does have a ring to it, if I’m honest,” Maggie said.

“Might just stick.” He raised an eyebrow at Aziraphale. “For all I know, this is one of the great tricks of Fell the Marvelous. He makes me think he is joking about the name, but what he’s really doing is getting me used to it.” He laughed.

“You’ve caught me, my dear boy. I’ve never been able to pull the wool over your eyes.” He winked at Crowley. “My clever darling always sees through my tricks.”

Crowley pursed his lips and sniffed. “It’s a knack, really.”

“Well!” Nina clapped her hands. “We can’t wait to meet Baby Tartan.”

“Can’t wait!” Maggie added. “Did you set up the nursery, yet?”

Crowley laughed, “Knowing us, we’ll probably do that when we realize I’m in labor.”

“We do need to get a wiggle on deciding how we want to set up that room.” He eyed Crowley. “Historically, we tend to bicker just a bit when it comes to choosing how to decorate anything at the cottage.”

“Oh I like the bickering. More so, I like what the bickering leads to,” he chuckled.

Aziraphale let out a sigh. “Crowley….”

“Does he ever behave for you, Mr. Fell?” Nina asked with a laugh.

“Never, my dear Nina. This one keeps me on my toes at all times.” He smiled over at Crowley. “Frankly, I don't know what I’d do with myself if he did behave.”

After lunch, they parted with Nina and Maggie and walked hand in hand to the Bentley. Inside, Crowley pulled Aziraphale to him for a quick make out session. “Want to peruse a baby shop? They got me thinking with their questions about the nursery.”

“I should like that. I do think it’s rather wise to start getting serious about that room.” Aziraphale leaned back in for another kiss.

At the shop, Aziraphale pulled a squealing (he absolutely was not) Crowley away from racks of baby clothes. “We’re meant to look at furnishings for the nursery, darling.”

“Right, but clothes go with the furnishings.” He watched Aziraphale’s eyes roll. “Fine, furniture first. Then we come back to this section.”

“What do we need?” Aziraphale asked as he stood among a row of cots and little cribs.

“Y’know my thoughts, Angel. A lot of this is bullshit. Obviously, the kid needs a place to sleep at some point.” He ran his hands along the headrail of a cot. “Maybe we should talk about that point. I…I’m not putting my brand new baby in a nursery every night. You know that, yeah?”

Aziraphale thought on it. They hadn’t actually discussed it outright. He just assumed the baby would sleep in their room for the early months. “Oh! Oh, of course not.”

“Right. I want the baby in the room with us.” He took a breath. The choices seemed overwhelming, but he was very set in his ways with baby furniture, preferring to keep everything minimal and avoid the unnecessary.

Crowley looked over a simple, solid oak cot. “This one converts to a toddler bed then a daybed. Might be better to get something that has the option for longer use, ‘specially if we don't use it much when they are tiny.”

“I think that’s rather smart.” Aziraphale knew babies, but he was realizing he didn’t know much about all of the bells and whistles that they try to sell you. Like most things for this pregnancy, Aziraphale continued to look to Crowley for guidance.

“I…uh…feel rather useless with this part. I should be more helpful, but I’m frightfully bereft of knowledge in this department.” Aziraphale squeezed his middle three fingers with his other hand. He couldn’t help it - feelings were on their way, right in the middle of baby furnishings in a busy baby shop. He told himself he knew better. They have this conversation all the time. You’re not useless, Aziraphale. You are enough, he thought. He looked around at everything in the store. Clothes, nappies, toys, furniture, prams, monitors, breast pumps, carseats, and more and more and more. His head began to spin and his back began to sweat. He knew what they needed, but the amount of options in each category was overwhelming. It didn’t help that the store was brightly lit and there were so many colors, yet so much beige and gray, and a lot of noise from parents with kids.

“Oh…drat! I don’t want you to feel like you’re the one doing everything, Crowley…” he tried to say more, but it wouldn’t come out. He couldn’t believe it - he was about to cry.

Crowley noticed the quiver to his lip and put his arm around his waist. “Hey, hey,” he whispered, “we don’t have to decide anything today. This was impulsive on my part.” He kissed his hand. “I never feel like I’m the one doing everything.” He looked around. “Here, let’s go to the loo.”

Crowley led Aziraphale to the washroom in the back of the store. Closing the door behind them, he turned to Aziraphale. “Talk to me, Angel.” He understood they each had their own anxieties that plague them over and over. It was a cycle with them, each time becoming slightly more bearable thanks to the support from one another.

Aziraphale sniffed and wiped at the stubborn tear he had tried to stop from falling. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” He took a long breath and smiled. “Maybe I caught some of those hormones of yours.” He looked at the ceiling then at the changing table. God, he never even thought of having to change their baby out in public. That would be a thing. Another tear escaped.

“I...I…feel like a bumbling fool at times with all the trappings of having a baby. I have been reading all of those books on pregnancy and I don’t even know the first thing about having our home ready for the baby. Furniture and breast pumps and car seats and nappies and dummies….and….I-I don’t want you to think that I’m incompetent. I should be better prepared. That’s my job as a father.”

Crowley wrapped him in a hug. “You’re doing everything right, Angel. Fuck knows, I’d never think you’re incompetent.” He kissed his forehead. “I don’t know shit about baby gear - only that they make too much of it.”

Crowley led Aziraphale in some deep, slow breaths - just the way the angel often does for him during his bigger moments of anxiety. “You know what I think, Angel?” Another deep breath. “I think this may have to do with how real it seems now that we’re looking at furniture. You can’t see or feel the baby yet. All the physical stuff is happening inside me. We only have a few tiny things tucked away at home. Getting serious about the nursery and furniture is much bigger. It’ll be obvious that a new little person is moving in, yeah?” He smoothed his hand over Aziraphale’s back.

“Probably didn’t help that I decided to come here and look at this stuff so quickly. Kinda threw that one at you.”

Aziraphale took another deep breath. “You didn’t spring it on me, Crowley. I do think you’re quite right - it’s something that makes it much more real. All of the choices are overwhelming and I’m afraid of making the wrong one.”

“That’s parenthood, Angel,” Crowley said softly. “We won’t always make the right choice. It’s a learning experience for us both.” He took Aziraphale’s hand in his. “Tell you what - we keep it simple today. If we see something we like, we get it. If it becomes overwhelming, we leave and try another time. Sound good?”

“It does, yes,” Aziraphale agreed. He leaned up to kiss Crowley. “This has certainly been much more chaste than the last time we were in a public lavatory together.”

Crowley laughed. “Definitely more chaste. Now, pop out there so i can have a wee. I’ll meet you in a moment.”

Aziraphale smiled to himself as he waited outside the lavatory. For all the sex in public, the crass things he says, and the fact that Aziraphale knows him so intimately, the one thing Crowley is very shy about is being seen using the toilet. Aziraphale found something charming in that.

They spent a good amount of time in the furniture section, after all. The two agreed they’d need a cot, chest of drawers, bookcase, and wardrobe for the nursery. They’d get a crib for alongside the bed at the cottage and another for their bedroom in the bookshop. Crowley wasn’t totally sold on a changing unit or a moses basket, so they decided to shelve those ideas for later.

Aziraphale was delighted to find that Crowley preferred simple designs made out of oak. “I admit, my dear, I did wonder if you’d fight to get a black, wrought iron crib with gargoyles and snakes,” he laughed.

“Naaaaah,” Crowley said, “I was just going to keep it simple with a demonic altar in one of the corners,” he cackled at himself.

A clerk helped them finalize their order and set up delivery. “How far along are you, if I may ask?”

“Fourteen weeks,” Crowley answered.

“Oh that’s great! You’ve got twenty-six weeks to go. Seems long, but it goes by so quick. This gives you plenty of time to get your items delivered and to make any returns should they not be to your liking.”

Twenty-six weeks did not seem like a long time to Crowley. It made it all seem too fast. He’d only just gotten pregnant yesterday, hadn’t he?

After they were done with their furniture order, Crowley reminded Aziraphale that he still wanted to look over baby clothes. Soon, Aziraphale found himself carrying bodysuits, babygrows, trousers, wee socks, soft flannels, and a few cloth nappies. Crowley had gushed over star prints, duck prints, forest Flora and fauna prints, whale prints, and he even joined Aziraphale for a squeal when they found another tartan print - this time it was a babygrow.

“I’m beginning to think my demon is turning into a shopaholic.” Aziraphale mused.

“Nonsense, Angel. I can control it. Babies go through a lot during the day. Wait until the breastmilk poop blowouts happen. Hoo-boy, it’ll be a treat.” He picked up another set of bodysuits from the rack. “Oooooh, more ducks!”

“That reminds me, I need to get laundry detergent when we make our Tesco run tomorrow. We should probably spend the next twenty-six weeks teaching you to do laundry.” Azirapahle winked at him.

“Pffft. I know how to do laundry, Angel. Not much to it. Pop it in. Add soapy stuff. Turn the thingie. Laundry is done. I even know where the clothes pegs are for the line outside.”

“Our washer has buttons in addition to the “thingie,” Crowley,” Aziraphale reminded him. “Though I do suppose the machine is pretty foolproof.” Aziraphale followed Crowley to the counter to pay for their mountain of baby clothes.

“Well, now,” Aziraphale began as Crowley revved up the Bentley, “that was a successful trip. We didn’t even fight over the furniture.” He tapped his hands on his thighs.

“We’ll find something to fight over. We need to. It’s good luck.” He smiled. “And then we fuck.”

Dinner was early and delicious, followed by an equally delicious quickie up against the counter. Crowley was already settling back at the table with his first snack of the evening, his tried-and-true standby of strawberries and Nutella. He’d changed into leggings and a soft lavender jumper and was feeling comfy and cozy, ready for a night of Zoom chatting with the queer parents group.

“You sure you don’t mind?” Aziraphale asked, wrapping a scarf around his neck. It had gotten quite cold out as the sun went down. He was off to his first stitch ‘n’ bitch group of the new year.

“Not at all, Angel. Have fun with your bitching and stitching. Make me something cute.” He kissed Aziraphale on the nose and walked him to the door, patting him on the bum for good measure. He watched until the Bentley disappeared and shut the door, shivering against the cold.

“Mr. Fell! So good to see you!” Flora exclaimed as Aziraphale walked into the yarn shop, bag of knitting in hand.

He took his seat with other knitters and it wasn’t long before they were all chatting and enjoying tea. Aziraphale was mindful of his speed this time, careful to work on one project…maybe a second as he thought of Crowley’s “make me something cute” request.

They discussed their holidays and their plans for the New Year. Aziraphale let it slip, quite by accident thankyouverymuch, that the tiny yellow jumper he was knitting was for his own baby. He found himself in the center of a pile of arms hugging him and rubbing his shoulders. Congratulations were shared and questions abounded.

He was having a delightful time talking with everyone about the baby and helping others troubleshoot their projects. He felt quite fuzzy and warm from all of the attention and couldn’t wait to tell Crowley. He found himself with a lot of yellow yarn leftover when he finished the cardigan. He knew exactly what he’d make for Crowley.

“Mr. Fell,” Louise slowed her needles, “you are very quick with your knitting and your work is gorgeous. Might I be bold and ask you something?”

Oh dear, he thought. “Of course, my dear.”

“Many of us here are part of a group that knits for charity. We make blankets, hats, scarves, and gloves for those without shelter and for hospice patients. We make little baby hats, gowns, and blankets for preemies and families in need.

Aziraphale was aware of charities that provided handmade items for families dealing with illness or loss - of all ages. He may have been behind similar charities in the past. “Oh, that is such generous work.”

“I was meaning to ask if you would be interested in helping with a few items?”

“Absolutely, my dear friend. I would be more than happy to lend my services and whip up whatever you need.” Aziraphale was excited about the prospect of knitting comforting and warm things for those who needed them.

Crowley “sat” at the dinner table with snacks and his laptop, happily following along with the Zoom meeting on his screen.

“Anthony is a superstar!” declared Ronnie. “He saved my sanity with breastfeeding. I don’t know if I would have made it very far without his help.”

“Happy to help,” Crowley said shyly, hoping the blush of his skin didn’t show up on the screen. He and Ronnie had texted a few times since the in-person meeting and he had helped troubleshoot some nursing difficulty she was still experiencing.

Crowley listened intently to the discussions, interjecting when he felt it was needed. He noticed a lot of folks were subjected to some pretty awful advice by their peers, family, and even healthcare providers. He patiently answered any questions that came his way, breaking subjects down and explaining things in a calm and accessible way.

“I know you are retired, Anthony,” Mars said, “but maybe you should still be a midwife. Or even a doula. You are so knowledgeable and you’re not pretentious about it. You’re very calming.” Crowley had just answered their question about cervical pains. “Can I ask why you retired so early?”

Crowley smiled. He couldn’t believe someone would find him calming. “I’ve had a very busy few years with my fiance and our family situations. It was intense. We can finally relax and be ourselves and, with our own baby on the way, I wouldn’t be able to keep up with the demands of the trade. I don’t ever mind answering questions here, though. Don’t be shy about asking.”

Jayden, who was new to the group when they joined the in-person meeting last month, spoke about feeling more isolated and nervous. They had experienced a series of traumas in recent years, culminating in their pregnancy and the dissolution of their relationship. Now, they were alone, without family, and they had just lost their job.

The group was immediately on it with support - suggesting various ways for Jayden to access services. Crowley went a step further, privately, and sent a message to Bex, their group leader.

Crowley: “Hey. Jayden’s story hit me very hard. Is there a way we can all organize some sort of gift exchange for them so they can get everything they need for their baby? And maybe something extra for them, so they can breathe easier.” He felt a strong pull to do something.

Bex: “I was just thinking that. 🙌 I will send out a group email later tonight to see what we can come up with. You’re good people, Anthony.💗”

Crowley closed his laptop after the meeting was over. Happiness was pumping through him - he enjoyed hearing that he was helpful and he was glad they were going to work together to get some assistance and happiness for Jayden. It also just plain felt good to connect with people who were going through similar things.

He surveyed the table. He’d eaten through all of the strawberries, a packet of crisps, Nutella, two candy canes (one dipped in Nutella) and a carrot - also dipped in Nutella. They were washed down with delicious hot chocolate - Aziraphale's own blend. He poured himself another mug before gathering up his little mess from the table. He dropped any trash into the bin and then began to brush crumbs off the table.

“Shit!” He knocked over his hot chocolate. He immediately grabbed his laptop before the liquid got to it. “Shit! Shit! Shit!” The chocolate mess spread all over Aziraphale’s happy little snowman-printed tablecloth.

“Fuck me!” The hot chocolate dribbled off the table, onto one leg of his trousers. Thankfully, it didn’t burn. He grabbed a tea towel and began to blot. His jumper pressed into the stain as he leaned onto the table. “Well, fuck that, too.” He dropped his head back and looked toward the ceiling, laughing. “You’re a disaster, Crowley.” He continued, in vain, to clean up as much as he could.

“Right.” He surveyed the mess. The whimsical light blue and white tablecloth had a large brown stain. “Damn it.” Aziraphale had just bought it during their last Tesco run after Crowley insisted - the snowmen reminded him of his angel. A puddle had gathered on his seat and the floor. The tea towels he used - matching the tablecloth - were also stained brown. He looked down at the hem of his jumper. Stained. His leggings were black, but they were wet with hot chocolate.

“Awful big mess for just one mug. Right. Well…” Crowley thought for a moment. He threw the tea towels and table cloth into the sink. He rinsed them and scrubbed them with dish detergent, but not much was coming out. He began to feel awful. Aziraphale worked so hard to keep up with the cottage and feed Crowley and here he goes making a huge mess, ruining his cute little tablecloth.

Crowley was going to be useful.

“Laundry it is, then.” He gathered the tablecloth and towels from the sink and walked into the boot room to throw them in the washer. “May as well do everything, then.” He stripped his leggings, socks, and jumper, adding them to the load. He was left in just a pair of black trunks and his black vest.

“Fuck.” He remembered that Aziraphale said they needed detergent. He walked into the kitchen and looked around. “This’ll do. Soap is soap,” he said to himself. He picked up a bottle of dishwashing liquid. “Bit daft to expect people to buy a special soap for every little thing if you ask me,” he told himself. “That’s how they get ya.”

It took him a moment to look over the buttons and the dial on the washer. He did note it was made in Britain. That was a nice touch. He has stood near Aziraphale when he loaded the washer in the past, so he had a general understanding of the entire process.

“Umm…Cotton, I guess,” he said as he turned the dial. He wasn’t sure what temp to pick, but figured the hottest would be best for this job. 90 degrees. Nice and toasty. He selected 1600 for the speed - the highest it will go. “That’ll beat any stains out.”

He pulled the detergent drawer out. It had more than one compartment. “May as well fill each,” he said confidently. The detergent was slow to come out of the nozzle, so he gave the bottle a little squeeze. Crowley’s eyes were drawn to the garden wellies by the door. They weren’t lined up neatly. He’d have to fix that in a moment.

“Shit. Fuck.” He overfilled the compartment because he wasn’t paying attention. “Bugger it. Everything will be shiny and clean.” He set it for an extra rinse, just in case. He hit start and patted the top of the washer with gusto. Crowley was cleaning. He straightened out the boots and went into the kitchen while the washer began swirling.

Crowley washed the few dishes in the sink and then wiped down the counters and table. He remembered that he wanted to clean the sink in their bathroom, so he headed that way. Christmas decor was still up in the house. Aziraphale wanted to keep it up until Epiphany, but that had just passed. They’d just been a bit lazy. He stopped in the sitting room and surveyed everything. That tree had Aziraphale’s more precious ornaments. Best not touch those. Crowley, helpful, went to the parlour. He took down some of the less sentimental ornaments from that tree, the top still sporting the star he’d put there. It pulsed and glowed. He remembered the bathroom.

Walking into the bedroom, he saw the bag from the baby store. He dumped the clothes out onto the bed and refolded everything, ooh’ing and aah’ing quietly to himself, imagining their baby wearing them. He neatly placed everything back into the bag before heading into their bathroom to clean out the sink. He opened the cabinet to grab a flannel and noticed the bottles of shampoo and bubble bath were a bit disorganized, so he got to work reorganizing the entire cabinet. Crowley was a helpful housewife tonight. He was finally going to wipe down the sink when….

“The fuck is that noise?” He shut the cabinet door. The washer didn’t sound like itself. He left the bathroom to investigate.

“HOLY FUCKING SHIT!” He couldn’t do much more than stand in the entryway to the kitchen and just stare at the boot room, where an amorphous mass of glistening bubbles was pouring out of the washer door seams like a sudsy avalanche off of Everest. The boot room floor was covered in the foamy white mess, which was slowly advancing like lava into the kitchen. Tiny bubbles broke off and floated in the air. Normally, that would be quite pretty if it wasn't for the fact that there was a giant wall of fucking soapy foam oozing everywhere.

“How the fuck?” He held his head in his hands. “Think, think, think.” He couldn’t think, though. He just stood there and stared. “He’s going to kill me,” he whined. “Fuck!” He walked quickly to the washer, slipping on the floor. His heart jumped into his throat as he caught his balance.

“Whoa!” He moved carefully until he could reach the button to pause it. The machine clunked to a stop. He opened the door, which may not have been the smartest idea as a slow wave of suds poured out. He slowly backed out of the boot room. He could try a miracle to clean the mess up, but it was risky if it didn’t work and it would make him dizzy. He didn’t want that to happen if Aziraphale wasn’t here.

Speaking of Aziraphale, he felt the Bentley getting very close. In a matter of a minute, the car was winding down their driveway towards their home. His legs were covered in bubbles. He took a tea towel and dried them off as best he could and threw the towel at the washer.

“Well…fuck.” He padded out to the hallway and waited for Aziraphale.

“Angel!” Crowley threw his arms around Aziraphale before he could even get all the way in the door and kissed him. “I’ve missed you.”

Aziraphale looked him up and down. “I’ve missed you, too. Why are you in your undergarments? And no houseshoes? Crowley, you’ll catch a cold.”

“Won’t.” Crowley looked down at himself. “Anyway, come to the bedroom.” He grabbed Aziraphale’s hand.

“In just a moment, my dear. I need to sort some of my knitting and I’d like to get my coat and scarf off.” He let go of Crowley’s hand and began to unfurl his scarf, but Crowley pulled him toward the bedroom. He let himself be dragged to the bedroom by his eager demon.

“Crowley! My dear, I’d love to get into bed with you, but I want to get a few things done first. Then, I'm all yours. Now, if you’ll let me -”

“I organized the bathroom cabinet! Come look!” Crowley hoped it was as enticing as he tried to make it sound. He pulled Aziraphale toward the cabinet. “Ta-da!” He opened the cabinet door.

“Very nice,” Aziraphale said softly. Aziraphale was used to Crowley’s meticulous ways for millenia now. “Well now, you’ve got everything done by category, color, letter, and size. How lovely.” He sniffed the air. “Why does it smell like lemon dish soap in the house?”

“It does?” Crowley sniffed the air.

“Were you using dish detergent for a bubble bath? Oh, that is awful on your skin and your bits.” Aziraphale could play, too.

“Bubbles? With detergent? Not me, Angel. Wouldn’t do that to my tits and bits.” He looked around. “Uh, I started taking down some of the Christmas ornaments….”

Aziraphale sniffed the air again. “Crowley?”

“Mmm?”

“Does the fresh lemon scent permeating through the air of our home have anything to do with the wet foodprints I saw leading from the kitchen into the hallway?”

“Footprints?” Crowley gulped.

“Let’s go see what you’ve done, shall we?” Aziraphale turned and walked out to the hall.

“Angel! Wait…I-I can explain everything,” Crowley followed behind him and braced himself.

Aziraphale wasn’t sure what he’d find. He had assumed that Crowley had made a big mess washing the dishes. Wouldn’t be the first time he got distracted and splashed a ton of water all over the floor, though that wouldn’t account for the strong scent of detergent.

Aziraphale’s brain struggled to take in the sight before him and form the words he wanted to say. He wanted to exclaim either “Jesus Christ” or, a full name he rarely uses between them, “Anthony J. Crowley.” Instead, while trying to make sense of the sight before him, his brain could only jumble the two options.

“Janthony Christ!” He exclaimed and looked at Crowley, astonished. “What were you?...how did you possibly?…I was only gone a few hours!”

“Ngk.” said Crowley.

“Ngk yourself, Crowley.” He rubbed at his eyes until they were full of static. Blinking his vision clear, he surveyed everything.

He made a sound of defeat. “You used dish detergent for the washer, didn’t you?”

“Ngk. Sorry. Ngk.”

“Crowley, I…” he sighed.

“I…I…well, I wanted…wanted to, uh, th-th-the hot chocolate and, uh…w-w-was only trying to, um…”

Aziraphale put his hand on Crowley’s arm. “Crowley, breathe, my dear.” He took a big breath for Crowley to follow. “I’m not mad. I can’t say I’m shocked, either, to be quite honest with you.”

“I’m sorry, Angel.” Crowley said softly. “Didn’t think the soap would make a difference.”

Aziraphale kicked his shoes off and walked toward the mess. “Well, now we know.” He inspected the washer and noticed the tablecloth inside. He smiled and shook his head. Crowley could easily take this machine apart and put it back together without instructions, but he didn’t realize that dish detergent could cause such a disaster.

“What’s this?” He pulled out Crowley’s jumper, which was now stretched and misshapen with one arm double the length of the other and the hem pulled diagonally. “Crowley…” His shoulders and belly began to shake with laughter as he walked over to his demon to hug him, the jumper pressed between them.. “My silly, silly demon. What am I to do with you?”

“Laundry lessons, I guess,” Crowley offered, helpfully.

Aziraphale held out his hand. “Well…phone?”

“Wot?” Crowley pursed his lips.He grabbed his phone from atop the counter and handed it to Aziraphale.

“I’m not letting Crowley’s special washing day go undocumented. Oh no, my dear. This is one for our history book.” He held up the phone and took a few photos. He held up his hand and waved at Crowley, indicating for him to stand near his sudsy mess.

“Now you, my dear boy. Let’s get a photo of that bump with your handiwork.”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “This is demon exploitation, I’ll have you know.” He posed for his picture.

“Oh really?” Aziraphale laughed. He handed him the jumper. “Let me exploit this moment, too. Say cheese, demon.”

Crowley pouted and held up the sad jumper. “Cheese,” he said, with a mock sneer.

“Very nice. Now come over here.” He pulled Crowley in for a kiss once he got closer. “We’ll make you an expert at laundry, yet!”

He looked down at his wet trousers and socks. “Oh bother,” he said and snapped his fingers. In an instant, everything was cleaned, dried, and the tablecloth was back on the table with nary a chocolate drop on it. Crowley’s clothing was back in the wardrobe - including the jumper, which was returned to its original shape.

Later that night, they got ready to get in bed, Crowley in his vest and boxer briefs and Aziraphale in his boxers and undershirt. “Oh!” Aziraphale exclaimed. “I nearly forgot to show you what I finished tonight.” He jogged across the room to pick up his bag of knitting from the shop.

He couldn’t contain his smile as he held up the little yellow jumper. “Can you imagine them in this?”

Crowley beamed at him. Yes, it was yellow and, yes, he could imagine their sweet baby staying warm in such a well-made jumper. “I love it, Angel. I never tire of your handiwork.” He took the jumper in his hands and let his fingers travel over it . It was so beautifully stitched and the yarn was exquisite and soft. “Fuck, this feels so cozy. Wait…is this…tartan? Oh, I know you’re more than a bit chuffed with yourself.”

Aziraphale giggled. “Well, it’s a solid color, so not quite. However, it is a rather simple basketweave stitch. I thought perhaps it would be a good choice for the first jumper I knitted for baby Tartan MacPlaidface.”

Crowley smiled and hugged the jumper to his chest. “A very good choice, Angel.”

“I made a tiny gift for you.” He reached into his knitting bag and pulled out a small yellow object. “It’s an emotional support duck. You can hold it and squeeze it when you feel anxious. I made it out of the leftover yarn from the jumper.”

“Aziraphale, this is so sweet.” He held the little knitted duck in his hand and gave it a squeeze. “How adorable!”

“And…” Aziraphale reached into his bag. “I made a second one, so they could be friends. Just like your Tesco Christmas ducks.”

Crowley doesn’t know why that did him in, but he started to cry as he took the second duck into his hand. He squeezed them both. “I love them, Angel.”

“I thought maybe one could be for you and one for baby Tartan,” he said softly, hugging his crying lover.

Crowley sniffed. “But what about Papa? He needs a duck, too.” He wiped at his eyes. “Oh my fuck, these hormones.”

Aziraphale reached into the bag and pulled out a third duck. “I knew you’d ask.” He booped Crowley’s nose with the beak. “One for Papa, too. A family of ducks.”

Crowley, demon terror from Hell, absolutely did not smile at being booped. He regarded his duck and wiped away another tear. “Think I’ll name mine Janthony Christ.”

“Oh good Lord.” Well, there goes that sweet moment. “It’s rather difficult to form words when you come home to find out that your husband-to-be has gone domestic and flooded the boot room and kitchen with enough suds to scrub all of Buckingham Palace.” He patted Crowley’s bum. “Now, in bed with you.”

They laid in bed, emotional support ducks snuggled between them, while Aziraphale read to him from one of the pregnancy books. He detailed the milestones of the 14th week while Crowley traced Aziraphale’s faded gold stretchmarks on his belly. He wondered when he would get his own stretchmarks and what they’d look like.

Aziraphale turned out the light when he finished reading and snuggled in with Crowley, who spooned him. The demon laid kisses on the back of his neck and atop his shoulder. Aziraphale could feel the roundness of Crowley’s belly pressed into his lower back as he snuggled him in even closer. Crowley was drawing circles along Aziraphale’s belly, which felt incredibly soothing.

“I love you, Angel.” Crowley whispered sleepily into Aziraphale’s ear.

“I love you, my sweet, silly Demon,” Aziraphale whispered back. He took Crowley’s hand and brought it to his lips, leaving a kiss on his fingers before allowing himself to doze off with his love.

Chapter Text

Crowley’s fourteenth week faded into his fifteenth week with ease. He and Aziraphale spent their days working on various projects in the cottage. Crowley had completed his mapping and planning for Spring planting in the garden. He also began setting up seed starter pots in the greenhouse. Garden planning and tending to his plants made him extraordinarily happy and he would occasionally find himself daydreaming about teaching their little one how to take care of plants and help maintain the gardens.

Also bringing him joy was his plan to install a snake hibernaculum at the outer edge of the garden. He would ask Newt and Anathema to help them with the project once the ground thawed. On that note, Newt had sent Crowley a text and asked him if he and Aziraphale would like to come to Jasmine cottage for a weekend to help with their gardens and new greenhouse - a generous gift that showed up at Christmas, mysteriously. Crowley was more than happy to agree to that.

Aziraphale spent the week knitting up a storm, both for their baby and for the projects set up by his stitch and bitch group. This week, they were working on soft blankets for a local hospice that gifts each patient a handmade blanket. He had already made five. Aziraphale enjoyed the moments that Crowley would snuggle up to him and doze off to the sound of his needles.

Aziraphale also taught Crowley how to use the washing machine without causing an explosion of bubbles. By the end of the week, Crowley was an expert at laundry and seemed to enjoy it despite much whining and many sarcastic jokes. He seemed less enthusiastic about folding the washing and Aziraphale believed it was because he spent a lot of time matching up corners and making sure everything was folded expertly and “just right.” Aziraphale made note of this as it was a pattern he’d noticed taking hold with many things for Crowley.

As discussed prior to Christmas, Crowley and Aziraphale began to talk seriously about finding a therapist. Crowley had specific criteria: they must be extremely trauma-informed, well-versed in recovery from sexual assault and rape, understand the psychological struggles present in pregnancy, and 110% LGBTQIA+ friendly. Crowley’s goals were to lessen his flashbacks and symptoms of what he believed was PTSD in human terms. He also wanted someone who would be able to work with them both on some of his lingering sexual hard lines. Part of that was to also help him feel more comfortable should he ever need a pelvic exam from Anathema. His first move would be to ask Anathema for her recommendation as she knew a few therapists who would meet his criteria.

On the day leading up to their weekend trip at Jasmine cottage, Crowley and Aziraphale finally took down and put away their Christmas decorations.

“Off to hibernation, little ducks,” said Crowley, carefully wrapping, unwrapping, and then rewrapping his ceramic ducks and putting them safely into a box. “Until next year.”

He and Aziraphale walked out into the garden, each carrying a Christmas tree. Composting would be a great option, but they had other plans. At the edge of the gardens, where the rest of their sprawling property began, Aziraphale asked Crowley if he was ready.

“I can do this, Crowley. Are you sure you won’t feel drained?”

“I’ll have you to catch me if it’s too much,” Crowley smiled. He held on to one tree. The star he had miracled was sent on its way up to the sky to be discovered and categorized by a lucky astronomer at a later time. He held the tree by its trunk and slammed the bottom into the ground with a growl. The sound of ground cracking echoed around them as the tree healed and rooted itself deep down into the soil.

“HA! It worked!” Crowley’s smile was bright. “I feel fine, too. Your turn.”

Aziraphale copied with his tree, smiling as the tree found its life again within the winter soil.

“Well, this was a lovely idea and we’ll always have these trees to remind us of our first Christmas together.” He pecked a quick kiss to Crowley’s hand.

Crowley was proud of his idea to miracle the trees back to life. He was quite glad that it hadn't taken much out of him, though he believed it had more to do with nature yielding to him than the expending of any miraculous energy.

“I’m so glad you’re here!” Anathema said after Crowley and Aziraphale had settled in the sitting room.

Anathema was excited to host them. Sure, it wasn’t a large cottage in the South Downs, but Jasmine Cottage had its own charm and magic and she was happy that she and Newt would be able to return the hospitality shown to them over the last few months. It certainly wasn’t the first time Aziraphale and Crowley had visited, but they had never slept over before. While she was a bit of a pro at growing plants and herbs, she was eager for Crowley’s knowledge to benefit their humble garden and their mysterious new greenhouse.

“First things first,” she began, “I sure do wish we knew how a small greenhouse, fully built and secured, showed up in our garden while we were away for Christmas.”

“Sounds like you two have yourselves a bit of a caper on your hands,” Aziraphale said quite seriously, brow furrowed. “I do love a caper.”

“Not much of a caper, Angel. It was Christmas. They’ve been good this year and Santa is very real.” He winked at Aziraphale.

“Well, I hope Santa Claus - wherever he may be right now - knows that we are very grateful. We’ve been wanting one for a while and we’re very touched by this mysterious and…” she looked at Newt, “Is there another word you can think of?”

Newt shrugged. “Seemed rather miraculous, didn’t it?”

“That’s the word! Miraculous. We’re incredibly touched by whatever miraculous means Father Christmas or Papa Christmas used to give us such a wonderful gift.” She peered over her glasses with brows raised at Crowley and Aziraphale.

“I daresay, I can’t think of a more deserving couple for a miraculously appearing greenhouse,” Aziraphale said warmly.

“Right!” Crowley clapped his hands on his thighs. “Show me this mystery greenhouse of yours, Newton. We should make sure Santa built you the correct one.”

Aziraphale stayed behind with Anathema while Crowley followed Newt to the greenhouse.

“Would you like to take a walk with me?” Anathema asked. “It’s sunny and it’s not too cold out.”

“I should love to, my dear.” Aziraphale stood and offered his hand to Anathema, helping her up from her chair.

They took a stroll down the road through Tadfield, Anathema’s arm linked into Aziraphale’s. “How are you doing, Aziraphale?” she asked.

“Quite fine, thank you. Crowley’s feeling much better these last few weeks and Christmas was wonderful. He’s been more energetic lately, too. Never a dull moment.” he answered.

“No, Aziraphale, how are you doing?” Anathema had guessed he’d answer about Crowley.

“Oh…I…I am doing rather well. The usual worries are still there. All part of fatherhood, I suppose. I must say, I’m deliriously happy.” He told her about his knitting group, their lazy days at home since the New Year, and his excitement to marry Crowley this year.

“That all sounds so wonderful. It seems like you’re not feeling the same struggles about being enough lately.”

“I do still grapple with those feelings here and there. I’m sure they will be a part of me for some time, but it has gotten easier to talk myself through them and to talk to Crowley when they come up.” He thought for a minute. “I have my moments. My biggest concern, if I am quite honest, surrounds Crowley’s mental health. He’s worked so hard to become the Crowley of today, but there is so much more that challenges him and I want to be sure that I am the best support for him.”

“You are, Aziraphale. You really are. I don’t think he’d be mad if I told you how much he gushes about you to me all the time.” She smiled at a group of kids riding their bikes past them. “As for the mental health, he did tell me today that he is planning to see a therapist. I think that is a very wise decision.”

“I’m very proud of him for that one. It’s a rather big step for him. For us.”

She smiled up at him and wrapped both of her arms around his. “I think it will be a good thing for you both.” They walked in silence for a small while until they decided to turn around and head toward the cottage.

Newt looked on nervously as Crowley inspected the greenhouse. He didn’t know why he was nervous, but Crowley looked quite serious and was very keen on touching everything and was intently focused.

“Mmmhmmm. Mmhmm,” Crowley said to seemingly no one. “Great ventilation. Temperature control system is perfect. Solar for electricity is a great choice. Bit bougie with the steel frame and crushed marble.” He smirked. “Nice germination mats, good, good. Shade cloth looks perfect. Excellent work, Angel.” He looked a Newt, who was hiding a smile at the last sentence. “As if you didn’t know.”

“I mean, how else would this have shown up in our garden?”

Crowley smiled. “Well, a fabulous greenhouse is one thing, let’s go inside and take a look at your plans for it and for your garden.”

Crowley and Newt sat at the dinner table and discussed all things gardening and greenhouse maintenance. Crowley helped him draft up and draw out his planting plans, dividing everything up by various categories - type, season, harvest date, etc. Newt considered his friend sitting next to him. Crowley was so patient and kind in his explanations. Soothing, even. It still amazed him how far along the friendship between the four of them had come in the last few months. He was glad to have people like Crowley and Aziraphale in their lives. They were some of the most patient people - he guessed he’d call them people - they had in their lives. Crowley, for all the shit he gave him about the car, seemed to get Newt on a different level. He never made him feel bad for being awkward and nervous.

“Do you play video games?” Newt asked as they neared the end of their planning.

“Sometimes. Don’t have a system at home, but I play things on my laptop or phone now and then. Do you?” Crowley enjoyed video games on occasion. He had felt accomplished when he invented Pong decades ago. His last foray into inventing games was Dance, Dance Revolution. He quite liked that one.

Newt told him about some of the games he liked. “Would you like to play?”

Anathema and Aziraphale returned from their quiet and peaceful walk to a house buzzing with shouting. The dinner table was littered with crisp packets and empty glasses of chocolate milk surrounding two notebooks - one with slightly messy writing, the other with very neatly drawn diagrams and writing.

“My God,” Aziraphale whispered at the scene.

“What did we walk into?” Anathema asked.

Newt and Crowley were sitting shoulder to shoulder with controllers in their hands in front of the telly. On screen was a little mushroom man in a car and a big monkey guy in a car. They were racing through space on a road made of a rainbow.

“Come on!” Newt yelled. “Stop throwing bananas!”

“That’s what you get for ramming me. That’s Aziraphale’s job.” Crowley yelled back to laughter from Newt.

“Hi guys!” Crowley said, looking over his shoulder at Anathema and Aziraphale. “We’ll clean up the table. Sorry about that.” He turned back to the TV. “Just gotta win one more lap after this fucker popped all my balloons in the balloon battle.”

“Which one are you?” Aziraphale asked.

“Funky Kong!” Crowley exclaimed.

Aziraphale patted the back of his shoulder. “Well, hurrah for Funky.” He turned to Anathema. “I’ll help you with supper."

Supper was loud and vivacious. Newt was currently slamming his palms on the table as he cracked up from Crowley and Aziraphale’s dramatic retelling of the accidental magic punch and the night of the holiday party.

“I can’t believe you got so aggressive, Aziraphale.” Anathema said.

“Bad Ass Mr. Fell!” Newt said, pumping his fist in the air.

“I would have been more aggressive had Crowley not stopped me. Admittedly, I do struggle with a bit of a…protective…edge. Crowley is very fierce and fiery and quite formidable, but this old angel here still has a bit of spark in him.”

“It’s hot as fuck,” Crowley said, eyebrow raised. “Can’t blame me for needing to shag him thirty times a day.”

“Wait…speaking of hot…you’re not pulling our leg? You two actually did it in a public restroom?” Anathema asked, Newt blushing and dropping his fork beside her.

“We did.” Aziraphale said with pride. “Not our first public foray and certainly not our last.” Aziraphale thought of himself from nearly a year ago and how he'd never believe this conversation let alone the fact that they even had sex in a public place.

“You’ll have to teach us your secrets,” Anathema said and elbowed Newt, who blushed and held a napkin over his face.

“Yeah, Aziraphale was shy like you in the beginning, Newt. He’s a proper slut now,” Crowley laughed.

The conversation eventually circled back to the fight at the holiday party. “I’d have paid a lot of money to see a snarling and threatening Aziraphale. I just can’t imagine it,” Newt said.

“The thing is, guys, Aziraphale is built for that. He was made to be and always has been a protector, a guardian. Back in our…uh…where we came from, he was a warrior - and a pretty fierce one at that. Gotta be to take on Heaven and Hell several times. I’ve seen things from him you wouldn’t believe.” He looked over at Aziraphale. “It’s hard to believe because you know the Aziraphale he chooses to be. He’s a fierce killer angel, yes, but he is soft, gentle, and kind because he wants to be. He chooses warmth and love. He chooses to be a comfort to humans. All of that warm, fuzzy, goodness comes directly from his own heart. For my money, that’s a lot more difficult and shows you just how strong he really is, you know?”

Aziraphale demurely dabbed at his eyes with a napkin. “All of that is made easier when you have someone by your side who constantly reminds you to strive for love.”

“You fucking two,” Anathema said, dabbing at her own eyes and chuckling, “always bringing the tears out of me.” Newt rubbed her back.

After supper, they settled down in the sitting room for more conversation and an impromptu prenatal exam. Newt was invited by Crowley to stay if he’d like. He sat and listened shyly.

Anathema declared herself pleased with the examination and pulled out her fetal doppler to listen to the heartbeat.

“Whoa,” Newt said in awe, as the room was filled with the steady sounds of Aziraphale and Crowley’s baby. He wiped at his eye with his sleeve. For some reason, this was the moment when it really hit him that his friend Crowley was pregnant with a real baby.

Anathema moved the doppler around and a slower whooshing sound took over.

“Is that me?" Crowley asked?

“Nope, that’s your placenta. It sounds very good, too.” She moved the probe again until they heard a less wooshy and slower beat. “This is all you, Crowley.”

“So cool,” Crowley said. “So many different sounds.”

Anathema moved the probe around again to hear the baby’s heartbeat once more. It was interrupted by extra static noises and loud, staccato bloops. “Oh!!” She was suddenly very excited. “This is what I wanted you to hear. Those weird noises, Crowley, are from your baby rolling and kicking.”

Crowley and Aziraphale already had wet eyes as they always do when they hear the heartbeat. Aziraphale offered Crowley his handkerchief.

Crowley listened intently and put his hands on his bump. “I can’t wait to actually feel it,” he said in wonder.

“That’s probably sooner than you think,” Anathema said. “I’d say sometime in the next two weeks. It’ll be just you feeling them for a while. Papa will have to wait longer to feel them on the outside.”

There was another bloop sound from a kick and Crowley smiled. “I love everything about this.”

They all listened for a good while more until Crowley eventually sat up. “We have a name,” he said with an impish smile.

“Oh here we go,” Aziraphale rolled his eyes.

Newt and Anathema stared at them in anticipation.

“I thought it would be nice if Papa here,” he poked Aziraphale, “picked out the first name and I picked out the middle name. Luckily, we came up with something very complimentary - Tartan MacPlaidface!” He stared back with wide eyes and an even wider smile.

Newt squeaked and Anathema blew out a breath. “I know you, Crowley, and I know you’re full of shit. Though…Tartan almost sounds reasonable. Aziraphale?”

“Guilty. I thought it was a strong, respectable name.”

“Why do I half want to believe you, Aziraphale?” Anathema asked.

“Because he is a pure being of light, ma’am. He doesn’t sin.” Crowley answered. “He just pounds demons in public bathrooms as an act of atonement for the faults of all mankind.”

They all laughed.

“In truth, I am tasked with the first name as Crowley said. We came up with Tartan MacPlaidface as a joke and now it seems to have stuck as a nickname.”

“MacPlaidface was my idea,” Crowley said proudly.

“You don’t say,” Anathema chuckled.

The conversation eventually took on a more serious tone as Crowley brought up their desire to see a therapist right away.

“I can recommend someone in Sussex, actually. So, that would be convenient. Her name is Lynn and she specializes in sexual trauma. She is part of the queer community herself and also works with expectant and postpartum parents - especially those in the queer community. She’s very frank, very funny, and super kind. I think both of your personalities would mesh well with her.”

Newt listened quietly. Nearly everything about Crowley and Aziraphale was obviously very unconventional. They were a demon and an angel having a baby. Still, Newt found himself somewhat surprised to hear them talking about needing therapy. Even more surprising was Anathema noting that this therapist specializes in sexual trauma. Newt felt his heart sink a little bit at the thought of them needing help for such a reason. He didn't know if he should say something or stay quiet or leave the room.

Crowley noticed the look on Newt’s face. “Sorry Newt. I realize you haven't heard that part of my story before. It’s all pretty dark. You're welcome to stay, but I won't be offended if you leave the room for this discussion.”

“Oh…I uh…well, I don't mind staying. If that is alright with you.”

“Not at all,” Crowley reassured him. “Probably would help you understand some things about me better.”

Aziraphale took Crowley’s hand. He held so much pride for his love being so open with people lately.

“So…um…that happened to you? What Anathema said - the therapist specializes in, um, sexual trauma?” Newt asked.

Crowley took a deep breath. “Yeah. It did. Long, long ago.” Crowley gave him a very brief and bare bones rundown of his past and why it impacts how he can be examined by Anathema and how it made him extra anxious in pregnancy.

“I’m very sorry,” Newt said. He didn't know what else to say. “You didn't deserve to have that happen to you.”

Crowley gave him a soft smile. “Thank you, Newt.”

“Lynn sounds like she would be a lovely fit for us, my dear. Thank you for the recommendation. We shall call her first thing this week.” Aziraphale draped his arm protectively around Crowley.

Crowley leaned into him and looked at Anathema. “I feel so impatient about it all. I wish it was a quick fix. I just want to be over it all already. It controls way too much in my life.”

“I know it’s frustrating,” Anathema said softly. “I also know you have come a very long way in just a short amount of time on your own. That’s something to be very proud of.”

“Not on my own. None of it would be possible without him,” he looked at Aziraphale with gentle eyes. “Or the care I receive from you.”

Anathema put her hand over her heart at that. She was incredibly touched that this beautiful being in front of her considered her to be helpful in his healing. Honored, really. She worked through a response in her head that would meet the sentiment, but Crowley did his Crowley best first.

Crowley pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s just so damn annoying that I can easily take his gigantic fat dick in any of my holes, yet I can’t let him finger me or use a toy. How does that make sense? It just doesn’t.”

Aziraphale blushed and looked down at his lap and then immediately snapped his head back up because he didn’t want them to think he was admiring his gigantic fat dick as Crowley had just eloquently blurted out. “Oh…Oh my…dear…”

“Sorry,” Crowley said sheepishly to his shocked audience. It was clear that they didn’t know if they could laugh since the subject matter was intense and the frustration he expressed was very real. He pointed to his belly. “Pregnant. Can’t be held responsible for what I blurt out.”

“What was your excuse before pregnancy?” Aziraphale asked to giggles from Anathema and Newt.

“Demon,” Crowley sniffed. More laughter.

“That frustration is very valid, Crowley. Anathema redirected the conversation. “The brain does very odd things when it’s trying to protect itself. I know you’re technically a demon, but what you’re going through is a very human trauma response. It may not end up being the timeline you want, but I feel very confident that Lynn can help. Plus, the dedication I have seen from you when it comes to healing is going to go a long way.”

“I hope so,” Crowley said quietly. “Well!” he was done with serious talk for now. “Probably time to hit the hay, hmm? I’m knackered as all fuck.”

Crowley and Aziraphale cuddled closely in the tiny guest room bed. Aziraphale tucked a few red waves behind Crowley’s ear and let his hand linger there, his thumb caressing up and down the lobe.

“You leave me stunned in amazement every single day, my darling. It’s magical.”

Crowley responded with a soft kiss. “Likewise, Angel.”

“What you said at supper was - it was very touching.” Aziraphale cuddled in even closer.

“S’all true, Angel. You're stronger than anyone I have ever encountered. And I mean anyone. You've been a beautiful soul since the second you were created, but you grew from that and who you became turned out to be even more magnificent and more brilliant than anything she could have thought. That's all you. All of your choices, Aziraphale.” He placed a light kiss on the angel’s perfect nose.

“It is as I said - I spent a lot of my existence with someone who makes love and gentleness something I want to strive for.”

Crowley smiled and crinkled his nose. “I don't know about that, love.”

“I wish you’d give yourself more credit, Crowley.” He returned a nose kiss.

Crowley softly chuckled. “Angel, m’not sure you should be telling anyone they need to give themselves more credit. I’d love for you to see yourself the way I do, if even for one tiny moment.”

Aziraphale struggled to get a word out, so he opted for a sweet kiss to the demon’s lips. “Don't you know the same sentiment can be applied to you, my silly demon?”

“Mmmm.” Crowley grunted in disbelief.

“It may be true that I first fell for you up in the stars - I did love you then - but it was the Demon Crowley who completely took my heart. You’ve been the embodiment of love since your time on Earth began.”

Crowley opened his mouth to protest, but Aziraphale raised his hand up.

“Let me, Crowley.” He took a deep breath. “You are just as fierce as I am. Just as formidable. You choose gentleness as well, my sweet demon. It’s just in a different way than me, but I have seen love from you on this earth since the moment we stood at the Eastern Gate together. Your sharpness, your hard edges, your anger are all beautiful and whole parts of you, Crowley. I know where they come from and why. But, you must know, that the darkest and hardest parts of you were created out of your own love - both in the way you were forced to stop expressing it and the way, deep down and perhaps unbeknownst to you, you kept going through all of it because you remained hopeful and optimistic to share that love again.” His lips began to quiver as he watched Crowley's eyes fill up.

“I fell in love with the Demon Crowley all that time ago. And it is the Demon Crowley who has unraveled himself, changed the pattern, and is now knitting himself back together in order to protect and grow our child. That's the purest and most selfless form of love there is.” He began to cry. “I watch you try so hard everyday. You are everything love is meant to be.”

“Angel,” Crowley sobbed, burying his face in Aziraphale's neck. He had never truly thought of love that way in respect to himself. He thought his rage was born from bitterness - and maybe it was part of it. He didn't let himself face the truth - that the promise of love had been stripped from him. He spent thousands of years pushing every crumb of it away so he couldn't be hurt like that again even though he was - and this was not admitted - so desperate to feel it and to give it freely. That's where Aziraphale came in. Aziraphale had always been his hope and promise of love, even when they worked so hard to pretend otherwise. No matter what they went through, it was Aziraphale who always saw him and held up a mirror to him. He supposed they were actually mirrors to one another.

Aziraphale put a hand on Crowley’s belly, sending his blessing to their child. “Think of it, Crowley. Our child won’t have the same experiences as us. They will be born into our world and surrounded by our love. I can’t wait to experience that - the three of us.”

“I can’t wait to experience it either.” The three of them. “Want to feel the baby with me?” Crowley asked.

“Anathema said it would be a long time until I can feel the baby kick.”

Crowley laughed softly. “I meant the way I do. The way I connect with them sometimes. Come along with me?” He took Aziraphale’s hands in his, cupped over his belly.

“Oh! I…” Aziraphale has been able to sense their baby’s life force in Crowley since his early weeks. This would be different. He’d experience the baby the way Crowley does with these connections.

“Are you sure?”

“Very sure, Angel.” He leaned his forehead against Aziraphale's and took a deep breath. “Come say hello.”

Aziraphale closed his eyes and focused on Crowley’s essence, mingling with it. Together, their awareness travelled down Crowley’s body to his belly and the pulsing glow within it. Aziraphale immediately felt enveloped by warmth.

An “oh” escaped his lips at the same time tears escaped his eyes. “There you are,” he whispered in reverence. He let the sensation wash over every part of his being, flooding him with love and hope. The mix of his own energy and Crowley’s was so incredibly strong. For the first time he truly became aware of the fullness of this tiny force and the fact that this baby was an entirely new ethereal being made up of the spiritual and physical essences of both Crowley and himself. It was a revelation that left him breathless on one plane and every spark of his ethereal nature aflame on another. And there was Crowley among it all, his own force the strongest Aziraphale had ever felt it, fiercely protective and full of love. There was no damnation there. He heard the vibrations of Crowley's earthly voice.

“Say hello to your Papa,” the demon had whispered.

Aziraphale felt a new pulse of loving energy and…gratitude. Their baby was sending him gratitude for creation, protection, and love. This energy was exuberant and happy, reminding Aziraphale of the joy of creation.

“Thank you, dear little one, for choosing us.” Aziraphale knew he’d never be privy to the reasons - outside of the obvious physical act - he and Crowley were able to conceive, but he knew he was grateful for every second of their journey.

Aziraphale felt the earthly grounding from Crowley as he thanked the baby and brought his awareness back to the tiny guest room and bed. He found the honeyed eyes peering at him in the dark and let out a muffled sob into Crowley’s neck.

“That was remarkable, Crowley,” he cried softly. “I can always sense their life within you, but that was something else entirely. Thank you.”

“Always, Angel.” Crowley kissed his forehead.

“I could feel the combination of the two of us there. They are equal parts you and me, yet entirely themselves,” Aziraphale said in wonder.

Crowley smiled. “Bit…ineffable innit?”

“It is, my dear.” Centuries old words floated in his head. “In one spirit meet and mingle…”

“Hmmm? Isn’t that from that Shelley fellow? Some little poem?” Crowley asked.

“That is correct. A rather fine poem, my dear. Those words popped in my head just now.” He let Crowley adjust their positions so that he was resting on the demon’s chest, the fullness of which served as a reminder for the work Crowley was doing for their baby. He nuzzled his nose into the soft chest hair.

Crowley dropped a kiss to Aziraphale’s head and stroked his fingers along the top of his shoulder. His sweet angel. His sweet, romantic angel who loved dreamy words and poetry. He began to whisper to Aziraphale:

He tipped Aziraphale’s chin up and met his eyes with the glistening gaze of his angel and pressed a sweet and soft kiss to his quivering lips.

Chapter Text

Aziraphale was happy to find that the morning sunlight danced its way through the window of their guest room and onto Crowley’s cheek, highlighting the freckles he was about to kiss. Much like Aziraphale’s own skin, the skin of Crowley’s face was dusted with the dried tears from last night - they always seemed to cry happy tears together in the last year. Aziraphale thought of the previous night as the delicate skin of his lips brushed along Crowley’s luminescent face. The beautiful conversation and connection with their baby was bolstered by the loving softness of Crowley’s voice as he recited one of Aziraphale’s favorite poems.

He kissed the crow’s feet that deepened as a smile grew on the fake-sleeping demon’s face. “Good morning, my sweet darling,” Aziraphale whispered. The house was still very quiet for the most part - the soft sounds of Newt snoring floated down the hall.

Crowley yawned dramatically and stretched. He’d held Aziraphale in his arms the entire night. “Morning, Angel. How’d y’sleep?”

“Quite well, my dear.” He kissed Crowley’s forehead.

Crowley rolled them so he could lay on Aziraphale’s bare chest. They’d only dressed in pyjama trousers the night before so they could cuddle skin-to-skin modestly as guests. He played with the poof of chest hair as he listened to Aziraphale’s heartbeat, strong and steady just like the angel. He kissed the skin over his heart and stretched up to kiss Aziraphale’s lips. He was feeling extra ooey gooey in love this morning, which, if one were to tell the truth, was his default feeling around the angel. Aziraphale’s eyes looked like the dawn, just before the stars fade to sleep.

“My beautiful angel,” he said softly, laying another kiss on receptive lips, letting his tongue part them. He reached a hand down to slip under Aziraphale’s waistband, finding the awakening cock nestled there.

Aziraphale blew a soft breath through his lips. He shimmied the waistband of his pyjama bottoms down just below his bum, his cock eager and ready for this surprise morning activity. Crowley had slipped his leg out of his trousers and draped it over Aziraphale’s hip, rubbing himself over Aziraphale’s cock. He was wearing white cotton knickers, the crotch of which Aziraphale pulled to the side as Crowley guided his cock to his opening.

They remained as quiet as possible, their movements slow and sleepy. Hands moved gently over skin while eyes remained connected and breaths mingled at their lips. Crowley’s hips worked in slow, languid movements to allow him to slide up and down Aziraphale’s cock. The angle of their bodies didn’t allow for deep penetration and the head of Aziraphale’s dick kept teasing to slip out of Crowley’s hole, sending pleasurable shivers up the demon’s spine.

They both felt so beautifully and wholly connected during their lazy and quiet lovemaking. Aziraphale held onto Crowley tightly. When their orgasms rolled through them, they kept their eyes locked and faces pressed close, breathing heavily into each other until their lips met again and again.

They remained coupled until Aziraphale softened, giggling together and caressing faces and hair. “Not even a single squeak of the mattress,” Aziraphale quipped. “Didn’t expect that this morning.”

“Can’t resist an Aziraphale in any bed. You know that.”

“Well, that or you are just obsessed with my…oh, what did you call it? My gigantic fat dick!” Aziraphale laughed. “My darling Crowley, the most demure wordsmith I have ever encountered.”

Crowley groaned. “Sorry, Angel. It just popped out of my mouth.”

“Is this where I reply with the standard innuendo about wanting it to pop into your mouth later, yes?”

Crowley laughed. “I’d happily oblige, Angel.” He laughed again. “Maybe we should start calling it GFD.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “We are not referring to my member as “GFD,” Crowley.”

“Member? We are not referring to him as a ‘member,’ Angel.” Crowley cracked up.

“Oh hush. Besides, his name is Spanish Inquisition.”

“Wot? Oh…, no, no, no. That's too embarrassing.” Crowley covered his face with his hand.

“Say it,” Aziraphale playfully commanded.

“I absolutely refuse.”

“Say it.”

“Nope.”

“Oh do say it for me,” Aziraphale pouted and batted his eyelashes.

“Not fair, Angel.” Crowley pretended to growl.

Aziraphale deepened his pout and worked those eyes extra hard.

“Oh…fiiiiine,” Crowley grumbled with fake exasperation. “Just this once. Ahem. I didn't expect the Spanish Inquisition,” he laughed, finally indulging his angel’s cheesy joke.

Aziraphale's face turned mischievous and he rolled himself on top of Crowley. “Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition!” he said in perfect imitation of the Monty Python sketch as he pinned Crowley's arms down and nibbled kisses down his neck.

Crowley cackled with delight, which was a far more demonic reaction than the happy squeals it actually sounded like. “No. No. No. I can't take you seriously. That's worse than Sir Lance-a-Cock, Aziraphale.” He caught his breath as he laughed, returning a nibble to the angel’s neck.

“I already told you - that was one time, Crowley. Once.” He kissed Crowley's forehead. “We've probably woken the household now.”

“Yes, but not with our fornications, which speaks highly of our shared angelic nature.” He copied the forehead kiss.

Aziraphale shifted his weight as he leaned over Crowley. “I think my days of being able to lay on top of you like this are quite numbered. Until after the baby comes, that is.” He kissed him tenderly on the lips.

“I think so, too. Still fine for now, but I think it’s a matter of days rather than weeks. Imagine how creative we’ll have to get when I’m huge .” He stole another kiss from the angel. “I can't wait until this baby makes me gigantic.”

“Mmmm,” Aziraphale growled into his neck, “I can't wait either.”

Crowley giggled at the tickling sensation caused by that growl on his skin. “Pervert.” He reached around to give a small spank to one angelic bum cheek.

Aziraphale kissed the spot where his neck eased into his collarbone before returning face to face. “I guess we should start getting up. I’d like to make breakfast for our dear ones.” Aziraphale gave him one more long and deep kiss before getting up.

“Sounds like a plan to me.” He pulled his trousers back on and quickly rose from the bed. A hand darted to the side of his belly. “Ow! Damn!”

“Crowley? What’s what’s wrong?” Aziraphale was by his side in an instant.

Crowley waved a hand and gave him a reassuring smile. “I’m okay. I’m okay. Round ligament pains. Annoying, but actually a good thing because it’s a sign of things growing in there. Just need to be a bit more careful standing up.”

“Ah. Yes, I’ve read about those in my books. Yoga may help.”

“You will not catch me doing yoga, Aziraphale.” He kissed him on the cheek. “Fucking you in that silly position just now probably didn’t help. Felt so good though. Worth it. Would do it again.” He rifled through his overnight bag and pulled out the day’s outfit. “Anyway, right, let’s get those kids up and stuff them with breakfast. Gotta drag Newt around the garden center and get him set up for spring. Gonna see what the shower situation is like and I’ll meet you for breakfast.”

Crowley was wearing an oversized sky blue jumper - color chosen because it made him think of Aziraphale and that made him feel warm and fuzzy, which he would not admit - and simple black leggings. Despite being oversized, the jumper still showed off his bump. His hair was still damp from the shower, falling to his shoulders in well-behaved ringlets.

“Just a wee touch of mousse.” He laughed. “These are actual genuine angel curls.” He fluffed his hair with his hand.

“Lucky,” Anathema sighed.

Breakfast conversation was easy and light and the morning faded into the afternoon, finding Newt and Crowley loaded into the Bentley and ready to head to the garden center. They’d pick up everything Newt and Anathema needed to start their growing season with the greenhouse.

While they were gone, Aziraphale showed Anathema some of his knitting he had brought along.

"I wish I knew how to knit. I crocheted a dishcloth when I was a teen, but that was about it." Anathema laughed.

"Oh! I could teach you. I even taught Crowley once, long ago." Aziraphale smiled wistfully.

"Crowley can knit?" Color her shocked.

"He can do a lot of things, my dear. He's awfully good at anything that has a pattern. He can knit, sew, embroider, crochet, and weave. He just…doesn't. He, uh, complains angrily the entire time." Aziraphale chuckled. "You didn't hear it from me. Such craftiness is not what they had in mind when demons were unleashed onto the world."

“He doesn’t seem like he is much like other demons. Not like I ever pictured a demon to be.”

“Oh, he isn’t.” Aziraphale sighed and thought of the conversion he and Crowley had last night. “I’ve loved him since before this world, this galaxy, existed, but it was him as a demon that took my entire heart.”

“Awww,” Anathema squeezed him into a hug, careful not to be jabbed by a needle.

“Now, my dear,” Aziraphale brought the conversation back to the task at hand, “I’m determined to make a knitter out of you yet!” He handed Anathema needles and a hank of yarn. “Worse comes to worse, my dear, you can always use these to poke Newton if he misbehaves.” He smirked and looked at the yarn. “Or you can tie him up with this.” Their laughter roared through the cottage.

“At no point, Mr. Pulsifer, will I ever grace your, “ he made finger quotes, “car’s seats with this fine arse.” He got out of the Bentley.

“You can’t knock something you haven’t tried. She’s gotten me places. She got me through the almost end of….you know.” Newt had tried to convince Crowley to take a ride in his car at least once.

“She doesn’t match my style. She doesn’t match my hair. She doesn’t match my swagger.” Crowley began his usual slinky walk to make a point. “Someday, lad, you’ll understand. When you have a real car.” He cackled as they walked into the garden center.

Crowley gave his expert advice as Newt pushed around a trolley and loaded it with necessities for his garden and greenhouse work. Newt looked on in perplexed, but amused astonishment as Crowley went through about seven different emotions in seven seconds after spotting very sad looking African Violets on a shelf in the indoor plant section.

“Be right back, mate, stay here.” Crowley darted off and returned with his own trolley and promptly loaded it with all ten African Violets and a snake plant. “These are so, so poorly. How hard can it be to be a garden center and take care of your plants? Wankers.”

Newt squeaked in affirmation.

“Right. I’m going to show you how to nurse these darlings back to health. We’ll get them flowering and looking sexy and full and luscious. Like Aziraphale.” He laughed as Newt blushed.

Crowley picked up a few other things for himself and they headed to the register. A small argument ensued when Crowley refused to let Newt pay for anything.

“You can’t do that! You literally gifted the greenhouse.” Newt insisted.

“Oh, you can’t tell me what to do, love. “ Crowley smiled widely.

“I absolutely won’t allow it.” He thrust his credit card toward the cashier, but Crowley blocked his hand.

Crowley angled his body to further block Newt. “I always get my way. Ask your angel friend,” he laughed as he handed the cashier his card.

The cashier piped in. “I fight with my husband like this all the time.” She looked at Newt. “Best to listen to your wife, dear. Keep her happy and let her treat you.”

Crowley’s laugh was full body. “Yes, listen to your wife, dear.”

Newt attempted to form words, but was unsuccessful. He did manage a good squeak when Crowley pecked a kiss on his cheek.

“The best husband,” Crowley proclaimed, cackling as they walked out of the door. The broke into giggles and then heavy laughter as they loaded the Bentley, Newt not allowing Crowley to lift anything heavier than a few pounds.

After stopping for lunch, they drove back to Tadfield. Newt had thoroughly enjoyed his time out with Crowley. He learned a lot during their garden center trip and was even looking forward to adopting a few of those poor African Violets. Lunch had been a laugh riot as their banter had been fluid and full of teasing one another. Newt’s thoughts turned a bit more serious during the drive home and the memory of the previous night’s conversation played in his mind.

“Um…I…um…I’m really sorry about what happened to you,” Newt said quietly.

“Oh,” Crowley pursed his lips. “Thank you. It’s, uh, it’s a lot to deal with."

“I had a cousin, when I was very young, who went through something similar and, um…well, I am just glad you are going to be able to get help. You deserve to feel better about it…um…not that you can feel better about such a things, but…um, well…you know what I mean.”

Crowley smiled at him. “I know what you mean. Hard to feel good about it, but hoping to learn to live with it in a much healthier way than I have in the past. Aziraphale is unbelievable as support. Your paramour is as well. Don’t know what we’d do without her. Or without either of you, really. You’re not half-bad despite your transportation choices,” he laughed.

Newt gave him a shy smile.

“Speaking of my lovely witch friend,” Crowley was going to go bold, “you ever think of marrying her?”

“Oh! Oh…uh…well…um…well, yes. A lot, actually. Since the first day I met her,” he answered. It’s been a dream of his since the end of the world that never happened.

“Don’t blame you. She’s a phenomenal human. And…I mean...not saying marriage has to be a thing at all. I’m just being nosy - Aziraphale would be proud of me.”

“I think we will eventually. I want to get through culinary school and she is such a free spirit and I’m still getting used to the fact that she even loves me at all, so…” Newt focused on Crowley’s hands on the wheel. He wondered, sometimes, how much of the drive was Crowley and how much was the Bentley on it’s own.

“Oh, she loves you a ton. Adores you. Thinks the world of you. I think you’ve got a shot,” he laughed. “In all seriousness, we talk about sappy love shit all the time and she is head over heels, lad. I know what it’s like to wonder how someone so amazing can love you. It can be hard to get past that in your mind. But…believe her and trust her. Learned that lesson myself with whatshisname.”

“Were you nervous to propose to Aziraphale?” When Crowley and Aziraphale had told them that they were officially together, they weren’t surprised in the least. It had been so obvious that the two were deeply in love.

“Fucking terrified. Still don’t know how I managed to do it and remain conscious. I was so close to fainting. Couldn’t even feel my tongue. One of the most beautiful moments of my existence, though.” He sighed deeply at the memory.

Newt thought of Crowley and how intimidating and courageous he was. He couldn’t imagine someone like him being afraid of much of anything at all. So, if someone like Crowley was afraid to propose to the love of his life…

As if he could read his mind…

“Yeah,” Crowley whistled. “I’d be terrified to propose to Anathema, too.” Anthony J. Crowley: helpful friend. Confidence giver.

Crowley and Newt arrived home to find Aziraphale and Anathema knitting together and the house smelling like supper cooking.

“Did you kids have fun?” Anathema asked over her shoulder.

“Oh, it was dreadful,” Crowley bellowed. “He doesn’t talk. He insulted my car.”

“He made me pay for everything. He definitely lives up to his cranky reputation.” Newt laughed.

“Sounds like you two had a lovely time together,” Aziraphale said. “Need any help bringing anything in from the car?

“Newt will need some help, yeah,” Crowley said.

Crowley darted out to the car, grabbing a box containing the African Violets, which he brought to the greenhouse where they would repot them later.

He returned to the Bentley to find Aziraphale and Anathema walking out to meet him and Newt. Aziraphale was rolling up his sleeves. Crowley steadied his breath.

Aziraphale opened the boot and…”Oh, I didn’t know you liked duck decorations,” he said, turning to Newt.

“Oh,” Crowley said sheepishly, “they stay in the car. Those are for us.” He was referring to 6 stone ducks - two adults and four ducklings that he bought at the garden center. “Thought we could have a little family in the garden to match our family.”

“Four ducklings?” He raised his brows at Crowley. “Interesting…” He pushed his sleeves up further. “Well, let me get to work. Newt, follow me.”

Crowley stood next to Anathema, whose eyes widened as she watched Aziraphale pile two large bags of soil over his shoulders and carry a tote bag in each hand. He took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. That was his angel. His core began to stir. As it was rather frigid out, he had been wearing a peacoat and scarf. He suddenly felt like a furnace. Sweat gathered at his chest and under his arms.

“It’s hotter out than it was earlier, " he said, as Aziraphale walked through the gate and towards the greenhouse. He intently watched Aziraphale, arms loaded with heavy objects, yet walking as if he were carrying helium balloons, as if the weight was nothing. With his confident stride, his burly chest, hair peeking from his shirt, and strong exposed forearms, Aziraphale was a demon magnet.

Aziraphale caught Crowley’s eye. He knew. He knew the demon was currently melting at the sight of him carrying everything. He could see it in his eyes and the way he licked his lips, the way he swallowed and started to breathe heavier. Aziraphale gave him a knowing smile.

“Fuck yeah,” Crowley whispered loudly as Aziraphale walked past him. God, his back, his ass, those fucking thighs. Everything was so…so strong and hot. Speaking of hot.

“Holy shit, Crowley, you’re flushed.” Anathema was reaching up to unravel his scarf. “Get this coat off, too.” She laughed. “You two are so obvious. So, so obvious.”

Crowley fanned the collar of his jumper and kept his eyes on his angel, who was walking back to get a few more things from the car. The same scene played out as Aziraphale once again passed by with arms loaded and a smile for Crowley and Crowley once again felt himself flush.

Anathema fanned him with her hands. “You two are going to absolutely wreck our guest bed tonight, aren’t you?”

“Ang-Angel and…uh…uh…muscles and thighs and stuff and…fuck…yeah,” he breathed. If they had been at home, his fiancé would already have found himself in the middle of being ridden hard.

“Great, Aziraphale, you broke my patient,” Anathema said to Aziraphale as he approached. "He short-circuited."

Aziraphale brushed his hands together, looking quite pleased with himself. “All in a day’s work for this angel,” he said smugly. He raised his eyebrows and winked at Crowley, matching his gaze.

“Do we, uh, need to leave our home?” Newt asked, watching the obviously horny non-verbal exchange occurring between Aziraphale and Crowley at that very minute. “We can give you two privacy.”

Crowley made a series of nonsensical noises in response. Even “ngk” was difficult to pronounce.

“Oh that won’t be necessary. We can wait. Supper is nearly ready.” Aziraphale smiled a dirty little grin. “Besides, he wouldn’t last more than 60 seconds at this point. You two wouldn’t even make it to your car.” He pecked a kiss to Crowley’s cheek. “In we go, darling. Let’s eat.”

Crowley stood still for another minute with a giggling Anathema next to him. “Are you actually alright, Crowley? I wasn’t kidding about the short circuit. Whatever brain cell you have in there is definitely melted.”

Crowley laughed. “I’m absolutely mad for him. Can’t blame myself.”

Inside, Anathema was excited to show Crowley and Newt the long rectangle she had begun to knit. “It’s going to be a scarf!” She beamed as Aziraphale complimented her quick learning.

Crowley guzzled a glass of ice water and went to the kitchen for another, sitting at the table while Newt joined Aziraphale in serving up dinner. Crowley focused on the strain of Aziraphale’s shoulders against his shirt. He was convinced he was about to combust. Maybe they should kick the young couple out of their own home.

Supper was lovely and Crowley managed to not combust and turned his attention to the food on his plate. Conversation was once again loud and boisterous, Aziraphale described the other night when he came home to find his kitchen full of suds.

“Janthony Christ?” Newt was cracking up and nearly choked. Aziraphale ran a hand and a blessing up and down his back.

“It was all my mind could muster when I saw all of those bubbles.” Aziraphale laughed.

After supper was cleaned up, the couples enjoyed an easy evening of conversation in the sitting room. Aziraphale continued to tutor Anathema on knitting and Crowley and Newt played Mario Kart. Loudly.

“I hope to find the bed in one piece,” Newt said to Crowley as the couples parted ways for the night. “Otherwise, we’ll have to put it on your tab.”

“Nonsense,” Aziraphale began, wiggling his fingers, “that's what miracles are for - to hide evidence. You'll never know.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

Crowley groaned. “Nope. No eyebrow wiggles at our dear hosts, pervert.” He looked at Newt and Anathema. “Good night. Have no fear. We shall remain exceptionally chaste.”

Aziraphale sat on the side of the bed in just his striped pyjama trousers and waited for Crowley to exit the bathroom. He smiled at the memory of the way Crowley had looked at him and, frankly, objectified him as he carried the gardening supplies. He loved the way it made him feel.

Crowley walked out of the bathroom, topless and in his silky black pyjama trousers. He really did want to break the bed, but he was a polite guest so he’d remain on his best behavior.

“Come here,” Aziraphale said softly, holding his arms out, “let me look at you.” His breath escaped parted lips slowly as Crowley approached him. His trousers were slung bellow his bump, highlighting the growing curve to it.

“Such an exquisite beauty,” Aziraphale said, resting a hand on Crowley's belly, the other lightly holding a hip.

Crowley rested his hand on top of Aziraphale’s on his belly and ran his other hand through angel curls. He pressed Aziraphale's head gently to his chest and leaned down to kiss the top of it. He felt a surge of something he couldn't readily identify in that moment. Briefly, the lust had taken a backseat to make way for something more…? Maternal! He realized it was a maternal feeling.

They remained in the embrace for a few silent moments until Aziraphale looked up and spoke. “Can I plait your hair?”

“Oh…yeah, that would be lovely.” He walked over to his overnight bag and pulled a thin blue hair bobble from his make-up case and handed it to Aziraphale.

Crowley climbed onto the bed and sat in front of Aziraphale, who gently combed his fingers through the wavy and curly locks. It felt so nice to have him playing with his hair.

“I love that I get to run my fingers through this hair on a regular basis. I longed for it for a very, very long time.” He separated sections of Crowley’s hair and began weaving them into a simple French plait, not too loose or too tight.

“It’s yours anytime you want to play with it,” Crowley said. Because barely anyone touched me for thousands of years and I longed to feel your fingers and hands all over me, he didn’t say. He didn’t need to. They both understood. They were approaching the one year anniversary of when they officially confessed all of their love to one another and became a couple. In that span of nearly twelve months, with near daily sex, save for that early pregnancy dry spell, sensual and non-sensual touch for a vast majority of it, Crowley still couldn’t get enough of being touched by Aziraphale. It energized and comforted him.

Aziraphale could have had the plait done very quickly, but he worked slowly and methodically, occasionally dropping tiny kisses to the back of Crowley’s head and neck. He whispered words of love and worship with each pass of a section over the other.

His words, kisses, and soft touches sent tingles down Crowley’s spine. Though he was eager to make love, he didn’t want to rush this part. In many ways, it was just as exhilarating for them both. He closed his eyes and relaxed himself into the sensations and the words.

Crowley felt the braid with his hand when Aziraphale was done. “Feels perfect, Angel. Thank you.” He twisted his head around for a kiss, a kiss he knew would lead to much more. He was dying to release the pent up lust of the day.

Aziraphale kissed the back of his ear. “Mmmm. You feel perfect, my dear.”

They repositioned themselves so they were sitting face to face. Aziraphale caressed Crowley’s face, tracing the sharp outline of his jawbone. Crowley took his hand and kissed it. He leaned forward and brushed a featherlight kiss against his cheek.

“I’ve been waiting all day for this,” he whispered in Aziraphale’s ear, leaving a kiss on the lobe.

Aziraphale shivered. “As have I, my dear. I must say, I rather enjoyed the way you were looking at me earlier.”

“I rather enjoyed the way you looked,” Crowley said, peppering a few small kisses from his ear, down his neck, to his shoulder. He ran his hands along his shoulder, biceps, and forearms and then back up and over his chest, the soft hairs tickling his palms. “I love my big strong angel. I love watching you lifting heavy things and working hard. I love knowing how this body could protect us. It makes me feel so safe.” He kissed his neck. “And that’s so fucking hot.”

Aziraphale swallowed. “I love protecting you.” Kiss. “Keeping you safe.” Kiss. “Showing off.” Kiss. “Turning you on.” Kiss.

“We’re going to end up with thirty kids if you keep showing off like that. No way I’d be able to resist you.” He accepted another kiss.

“Silly demon, you’ve never been able to resist me.” He laid back and pulled Crowley on top of him, holding his face in his hands and kissing him passionately.

Crowley straddled him and ground down onto his erection through their pyjama trousers. “I believe we promised our dear friends that we would remain chaste.”

Aziraphale slowly bucked his hips up to meet Crowley, his erection rubbing against the wetness soaking through the demon’s trousers. “Oh, my darling, I never made such a promise. I don’t know what kind of angel you take me for, but I certainly don’t believe in chastity.” He held Crowley’s hips and pushed hard against him.

Crowley smiled wickedly. “Well, we should at least leave them with an intact bed. Let’s get these trousers off and then not one single sound after that. Not even the tiniest creak of a mattress spring. Think you can do that?”

“Challenge accepted,” Aziraphale growled. “Not a single squeak or creak.”

They eagerly, though quietly, removed their trousers. Aziraphale’s erection strained greedily towards its target as Crowley hovered over him. He sank down very slowly, teasing the angel inch by inch until he fully enveloped him, drawing out a deep sigh from his lips. Crowley put his finger to his lips. “Shhhh. Not a single noise.”

Crowley began to roll his hips slowly. He ran his palms up his torso and over his chest, cupping his breasts in his hands and arching his body back, face to the ceiling. He felt Aziraphale's cock become impossibly harder inside him. He moved his pelvis in small circles and contracted inside, squeezing Aziraphale's dick rhythmically with his most intimate muscles. He looked down to find Aziraphale in a state of ecstasy.

Aziraphale followed the path Crowley's hands had taken. He ran his own hands up the length of his body, first stopping at the hips to feel their seductive movement and then caressing upward until each hand was cupped around the fullness of his chest, thumbs rolling over hardened dark pink nipples. Crowley was doing magical things with his muscles, both inside and out and Aziraphale felt he would be lost in the divine madness of it all. The view he had - good God, it was extraordinary. Crowley, his face glowing with pleasure, moved in such slow, snaky undulations, rolling his body from the top all the way down to his pelvis, where he held Aziraphale’s cock captive within him in a serpentine dance.

They moved together slowly and carefully, not making a single noise other than their breathing. When it came time for their mutual pleasure to overtake them, they locked eyes and intertwined fingers, faces showing what their voices couldn’t. They stayed connected for a long while, gazes remaining on one another, conveying everything they wanted to say.

Crowley eventually leaned over and let Aziraphale slip out while he took his lips for a very long kiss. Aziraphale pulled him closer to cuddle, angling himself and Crowley so the demon could lay comfortably close to him with his burgeoning belly supported. Crowley wrapped his arms and a leg around him, his head at his chest.

“Love you, Angel.” He kissed his neck.

“Love you, Demon.” Aziraphale delivered several kisses to his head.

“We won,” Crowley said with a voice draped in sleepiness. “We didn’t make a single noise.”

Aziraphale smiled. “That we did, my dear boy. The most polite and chaste guests, I’m sure.” He gave him another kiss to his crown. “Sleep well my darling.” He pulled the covers up over them and wrapped his arms around Crowley. They were both still sweaty and sticky, which made him happy. Listening to the soft snores of his love, he could feel the extra warmth of the belly pressed up against his own curvy flesh. “Goodnight, little one,” he whispered to that soft glow within Crowley.

Aziraphale hadn’t intended to doze, but he did so briefly. He awoke just before dawn to two amber eyes peering at him.

“G’morng’l.” Crowley said.

“Good. Morning. Angel. I think I’ve got it.” He kissed his forehead with a sleepy smile. “Good morning, my sweet demon.”

Crowley groaned. “M’not sweet. M’demon. Vicious. Dangerous.” He pretended to bite Aziraphale’s chest. “Perpetually horny.”

“Oh, my poor dear. Perhaps I can put such a vicious demon out of their perpetual misery and at least avaunt their horniness?”

“Don't tempt me, Angel,” Crowley whined, stretching up to kiss him. He’d only been awake for a few minutes more than Aziraphale and he could already feel new wetness growing between his legs. He had a feeling his entire day would be like this. All of his usual sappy feelings were riding high along with an intense admiration for the strength and protectiveness of his husband-to-be. Crowley was a mix of deep emotion and heavy carnal needs.

“Oh, I’m not tempting anyone. I’m avaunting. There’s a difference you see,” Aziraphale said, helpfully. “Now, I’d like to get out to the kitchen to make breakfast for everyone. But, first, I shall satisfy my own cravings and eat a fine meal.” With that, he was between Crowley’s legs, whose thighs pressed tightly against him, both hands pulling at the hair in his mess of angelic bedhead. Aziraphale worked his tongue enthusiastically, lapping up the wetness he was inducing and tasting his own spend from the previous night’s activity. It was absolutely decadent.

Crowley shook and fluttered around the fine handiwork of his tongue, his breath heavy and quiet, muscles straining and then relaxing as he submitted to the expert strokes of Aziraphale's tongue. They laughed into each other's mouths when Aziraphale was done and Crowley languished in the mixed flavors of himself and Aziraphale on the angel’s tongue.

Crowley sighed, thoroughly satisfied and happy. “You're going to be trouble for me today, I can feel it.”

“I look forward to it.” Aziraphale gave him a goofy kiss and sat up. “Now, time to get the day started for everyone else.”

They got dressed together, Crowley both wincing and laughing at the round ligament pains that pulled at him when he arose from the bed. Since Aziraphale was going to be a problem, Crowley decided to dress in his turtleneck, tie, and blazer combo, complemented with his leather maternity pants, just to be a bit of a bastard. It was one of Aziraphale's favorite outfits for the demon.

“Your plait held well overnight. Gonna keep it in,” Crowley said, admiring himself in the mirror. His waistcoat didn't make the cut today as buttons that buttoned last week were no longer able to do so this morning.

Aziraphale stood next to him and rested his chin on Crowley's shoulder and met his eyes in their reflection. A hand slowly traveled up his back and gripped the tail of the plait, giving it a gentle tug, enough to pull Crowley’s head back and expose a bit more of his skin above the ridge of the turtleneck, where he placed a soft, but serious kiss.

“Mmmhmm. It gives me something to grab onto,” he purred.

“Fuck, Angel. How am I supposed to get through the day? It’s barely eight and I’m a puddle.” He watched the sparkle grow in Aziraphale's eyes.

“Don't worry, my dear, I will be by your side to support you,” he said cheerfully. A playful swat to demon bum joined Aziraphale's eager voice. “Now! Let's get some pancakes started for our gracious hosts.”

“Fucking bastard,” Crowley laughed.

After breakfast, Crowley and Newt headed to the greenhouse to repot African Violets. Crowley gave him all of the tips and tricks he needed to help revive them and nurse them back to health. Crowley had also touched every single one of them, so they had no choice but to thrive anyway.

Aziraphale and Anathema worked on some knitting together, the latter getting excellent instruction that would keep her going after Aziraphale and Crowley left.

Goodbye hugs were warm and long, with Newt pleasantly surprised that Crowley embraced him for more than a moment.

On the road, it was decided they would stop for lunch and perhaps a stroll through a quaint town with plenty of shops. Thus, the suffering of the poor demon Crowley began.

At lunch, the server flirted shamelessly with an oblivious Aziraphale. The same thing happened at the chemist, when they were buying a new bottle of prenatal vitamins for Crowley and the cashier had twinkle eyes for the angel. At a bakery, Aziraphale was more focused on eclairs and Victoria sponge than the pointed gaze of the enamoured pastry chef. Crowley was amused and aroused, finding a bit of silly joy in the cluelessness of his angel.

Aziraphale found a bookshop, of course. And, of course, he found himself in the pregnancy and parenting section while Crowley found himself with a full bladder and in search of the lavatory. Ladies and Gents options. On this day, he was more than uncomfortable with the choice. He considered himself. He was dressed in his typical Crowley attire. He had a bit of stubble as they didn’t shave while at Jasmine Cottage. His fuller chest and pregnant belly were obvious. He was wearing eyeliner and nail polish. Crowley loved his gender play, but suddenly felt like it may not be loved by everyone. What if he made the wrong choice? But he really had to pee? He decided to hold it, which was not comfortable as he could practically feel his uterus bouncing against his bladder. He went off to find comfort in his angel.

He found him chatting away with a fellow who was clearly making googly eyes at him. He can’t be that clueless, Crowley thought. Uncomfortable from his washroom plight, Crowley leaned into his amused and rather turned on feelings briefly and watched the conversation between Aziraphale and this gentleman from behind a bookshelf. The conversation centered around quaint old bookshops and the importance of preserving the printed word. Stimulating, Crowley thought. It was when the fellow reached out and softly touched Aziraphale’s arm that Crowley moved onto the scene.

He quickly appeared at Aziraphale’s side with a strongly delivered, “Hello, gorgeous” and a kiss to Aziraphale’s cheek. He looked at the now dejected man, who was probably just lovely, and said, “Hi.”

“We were just chatting about old bookshops and whatnot,” Aziraphale said happily, leaning into the demon currently wrapping an arm around him.

Aziraphale looked at the gentleman, “This is my fiancé.” He held up the pregnancy book that had been in his hand. It was a guide for birth partners. “Just doing some light reading to prep for our growing family.”

Crowley put his hand on his bump and smiled. “Growing family,” he repeated, happy to get the point across.

The gentleman received the message and bid them each a nice day before walking off and disappearing behind bookshelves.

“Crowley…” Aziraphale began.

“Talk about it later, Angel. I really have to pee now.” Crowley whispered, pulling on Aziraphale’s hand.

Aziraphale put the book back on the shelf, taking note of the title so he could look for it again. “I thought you just went.”

“I was going to, but they have a Ladies and a Gents. And I don’t match either.”

“You match both. Just use the one you’re more comfortable with.” Aziraphale suggested, helpfully.

“It’s not that easy for me today. They’re not singles and I don’t want to be…I don’t want someone to come in and see me and think I don’t match the sign on the door.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale said quietly, nearly disappointed in himself for telling Crowley to just be comfortable. “Well, I’ll go with you.”

“Come with me,” Crowley said, leading him by the hand. When they approached the washrooms, he turned to Aziraphale and said, “check the Gents. If it’s empty, we can go in that one.”

Aziraphale could read the discomfort and worry on Crowley’s face and suddenly felt heartbroken that something as simple as using the lavatory was causing his love so much stress. “All clear in here,” he said as he looked inside.

“Come in with me.” Such a request was highly atypical for Crowley.

Inside the bathroom, Aziraphale waved a hand. “There we are. No one will come near toilets until you’re done. I can wait outside if you’d like.”

“No,” Crowley still felt nervous as he entered the stall. “Stay with me,” he said, ready to pull his trousers down. “Turn around, though.”

Aziraphale faced the door. “Rather cold out today. You can really feel it in the bones.”

“Angel. Shh. Cover your ears, too.”

Aziraphale covered his ears. Most helpfully, he began humming Helas Madame, because one can’t go wrong with a jaunty 15th century courtship tune when you’re guarding a loo door while your lover pees.

Crowley just laughed and willed himself to finally pee. “You know, they gave Henry VIII credit for that one,” he said while washing his hands. “That song was around years before the wanker was born. Never thought I’d hear it a half-millennia later while taking a piss, but here we are.”

Relieved, Crowley and Aziraphale left the bookshop and made their way back to the Bentley.

“I’m sorry the lavatory turned out to be such an ordeal for you, my dear.” Aziraphale said as they walked down the pavement.

“S’fine, Angel. Don’t really want to think about it right now.” He’d talk about it later, maybe. For now, he was stuffing down feelings that keep welling up when he thought all about the flirtations Aziraphale had received today. He was very proud to have Aziraphale on his arm and quite aroused that he had been desired by others.

“Well, I’m exhausted from a day of thwarting,” Crowley said as he slid behind the wheel of the Bentley.

“Thwarting is my job, darling. Besides, what or who did you have to thwart?” Aziraphale blew into his hands and rubbed them together.

Crowley started the ignition. “Uh. The waiter. The clerk at the chemist. The pastry chef at the bakery. The mysterious gentleman at the bookshop.”

“Yes, they were all quite charming.” Aziraphale said.

“Charming? Angel, they were charmed. By you. Flirting right in front of your dear pregnant demon. Not a single ounce of shame for any of them.”

“Oh.” Oh, he loved this side of Crowley. “I hadn’t noticed.” He had. Every time.

“I know. Completely clueless. Don’t know what you’d do if I wasn’t there to rescue you. Can’t blame any of them.”

“Oh heavens, Crowley, I’m sure you’re exaggerating.” He smiled. “Do tell me more, though.”

Crowley laughed. “I knew you’d be trouble today. From the moment we woke up, I just knew I’d be in for it.” He smiled at Aziraphale, eyes bright and happy. “My irresistible Angel. Now I’m stuck with an hour’s drive and a poor neglected cunt.”

Aziraphale clutched his heart and sobbed out, “Oh, this poor dear demon! Won't someone please think of him and his aching cunt?” He wiped a fake tear.

“Great. My angel is hot as fuck and a comedian. How did I get so lucky?”

Speaking of getting lucky, Crowley pulled into the parking lot of a nature preserve not fifteen minutes after they drove away from the shops.

“Are we going on a walk?” Aziraphale asked.

“We can do that after,” Crowley answered, shutting off the ignition.

“After?”