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Crowley nuzzled further into the cub's fur, nosing the back of his neck and taking in his milky baby smell. The three cubs were curled up on the sofa with Crowley hunched over them, soaking up their presence. He licked the leonine cub behind the ear, grooming him lovingly. Its serpentine tail curled in joy as it mewled. He and Aziraphale hadn't given the cubs names yet. It seemed too early for all that. How could you bestow on name on someone you didn't know yet? Modern humans had it all wrong. He supposed it was easier picking up "Timothy" from the nursery, than "the small wrinkly bald one", but naming their one-month-olds seemed premature. Right now they were babies – Crowley and Aziraphale's babies – and that was enough identity for now. Although maybe Crowley could admit that they did have an easier time differentiating their three cubs than human parents.
The avian-leaning cub with the feline ears was making its mischievous way towards the edge of the sofa. Crowley grabbed it by its scruff and pulled it back to safety. It squawked and weakly kicked its little feet, disappointed its parent had foiled its plans of falling off the sofa. Like parent, like child, Crowley smiled to himself. Already rebelling.
Crowley pulled it close to nuzzle in apology. It nuzzled him back blindly with its tiny hawkish beak; eyes mostly closed still as many newborns in the animal kingdom were.
He lay back against the back of the sofa and moved the other two cubs to either side of him; snuggling them as close as he could while the third lay contently on his chest, adventure over the sofa's edge already forgotten.
The three babies were a mishmash of animal traits. Apparently unable to settle on a known form yet. Some might say they currently had faces only a parent could love - which Crowley and Aziraphale did. Very very much. They still seemed to be shifting, changing. Who knew what they would end up as, the part-celestial part-occult, completely immortal beings that they were. They were a miracle in themselves. One that Crowley and Aziraphale had never expected to receive and certainly not one they had planned.
The only thing he wanted to do these days was curl up with Aziraphale and his little babies and while the day away. Proper sloth it was. Occasionally, he would get the urge to go out, stretch his legs and cause some mischief, but before long he'd see something that reminded him of them and start to miss the little lazy buggers. Sometimes he'd hurry into a store to buy them a toy or blanket, just so they wouldn't think he had forgotten them in his absence. Not that they seem to be at the age to grasp that concept of bribery, but it made Crowley feel better.
Crowley leaned over to lick his little reptilian baby to calm down its fidgeting and remind it it was loved. His tongue curled around his baby's little tummy, making sure to cover every inch of it. It burrowed its head into Crowley's side in response, wriggling away from the ticklish touch and exposing it's belly as it turned, almost as if saying "Daddd, stop it". It was the shyest of the three cubs and the most easily startled. It also had the unfortunate ability to camouflage quite well into the surroundings, which it tended to utilize whenever left alone – alone being anything from 30 minutes solo in the crib to the time it took Aziraphale to fetch the bottle from the kitchen. While it was an impressive and potentially life-saving feat, as parents Crowley and Aziraphale found it extremely distressing. Aziraphale had been reduced to tears during the bottle incident. By now they had realized that the baby never actually went far during these episodes – thank Satan – and if you fumbled around like a moron patting everything in a meter radius of its last known location, you would eventually stumble onto it. They dreaded the day it might be literally. Crowley had threatened to put a leash on it last time that had happened. But it was hard to be mad at the little cub when it seemed just as distressed by the episodes. It would cry and cling the moment they located it, its silky bat-like wings shaking in distress. Although in its mind, the issue was the disappearing parents abandoning it to fend by itself and therefore driving it into hiding (babies unfortunately also have no concept of time and are quite drama queens, as many tired parents discover early on).
The room was littered with bottles, blankets and other baby paraphernalia that Crowley and Aziraphale had tried. It was hard to tell what they'd like or need as they weren't exactly fully human or animal-shaped or mortal at all. At least they thought. It was slightly mysterious that they existed to begin with. Not mysterious in a pregnant virgin kind of way – they had definitely had the sex which had preceded a confused and wailing Crowley pushing out three eggs. And there was no doubt of their joint parentage either. All three cubs had a mixture of Aziraphale's and Crowley's distinct celestial and demonic energy respectively. The question was "how?". Because well…who had ever heard of an angel or demon having offspring with no mortal involved? And they had checked. Extensively. That is, after Crowley stopped blaming Aziraphale for slipping up and miracling them into existence. Because that seemed exactly like something a romantic sentimental angel might accidently do.
Also if it had been Crowley's miracle that caused it, you could bet he would not have been the one in labor.
Even if some part of it had been…nice. Laboring so their children could come into the world. Laying sweaty beside them and coiling around them nice and tight. Just him and them bonding through the shells of the eggs with Aziraphale fretting around him. Some of it had been good. You know, aside from the EXCRUCIATING pain. Which of course, Crowley had decided to hold over Aziraphale's head. As many mothers rightfully did.
Though he might be convinced to do it again.
The cub on his chest began mouthing him with its newly appeared feline snout, signaling it was hungry. He snapped his fingers and a bottle of milk from the fridge appeared in his hand. He positioned the baby for better access and angled the nipple of the bottle into its mouth. After a couple jabs with the nipple, it got the picture and latched on, sucking enthusiastically. The bottle pleasantly bobbed up and down with every suck; hypnotizing him even further with the little thing in his arms. They didn't think the children actually needed the nourishment, but it was a nice bonding ritual.
His shy cub began crooning and nosing his right side, having smelled the milk. It was at moments like these he wished could produce milk himself and attach all his children straight to the source, never breaking the skin contact. The pathetic and heart breaking whimpering grew on as the first cub worked on finishing its bottle.
"Shush, shush, sweetheart" Crowley cooed, "Daddy's right here. And he's going to feed you very very soon".
The agitation and fidgeting continued. Soon is unfortunately another time expression babies refuse to grasp. They have now, which is signaled by distressed crying, and not now, which is signaled by angry crying (as a parent you quickly learn to understand the nuances) and later on the occasional throwing of objects. Right now, it was obviously distressed crying.
"Shhh Shhhhh Shhhhhhh, love" Crowley hushed. The upset abated slightly at the sound of its parent's voice, but didn't stop. Not now that it had its parent's attention! Its soft cries turned mournful and beseeching. It knew both the food and its caregiver were close. Why wasn't it helping? Maybe it needed to cry louder?
Crowley's eyes slide nervously to the third, yet silent baby; fearful of a potential chain reaction. Currently it was chewing its tail. It looked painful. But thankfully silent.
A surprised squawk from the baby in his arms startled him. It was immediately followed by suspicious dampness spreading over his left pec. The beak had returned and torn the nipple of the bottle trying to nurse as though it still possessed a feline snout. It hooted in distress and confusion.
"Shhhh shhhh" Crowley gathered both cubs and hugged them to his chest; jiggled them a bit, trying to crest the wave of crying. "Shhhhh shhhhhh it's okay.
"You're okay. I'm okay. We're all going to eat. Shhhhhhh shhhhh it's okay". He could speak 170 languages and this was what he was reduced to. They began to quiet and snuggle into him. Little claws and talons grasping his shirt. The reptilian baby's tail curled around its sibling's foot, curling closer to both familiar heat and comfort sources.
Crowley loved it. Screw higher vocabulary.
Half an hour later both babies were fed thanks to two magical floating baby bottles. Crowley preferred feeding them himself one on one, feeling the bottle pull in his hand with every suck. But there was no way he was going to listen to half an hour of crying to achieve that. One by one he wiped away the leftover milk drops clinging to them with a cloth. Then he dipped down to lick behind their ears (or at approximately behind their ears) as he stroked their heads and backs. The feel of the fur and scales was delightful under his tongue, just as much as the purring and cooing. He dragged a sharp talon of his own down between one's ears, careful not to scratch them. The other cub lay swaddled in a blanket in the nearby basinet, sleeping soundly.
It was sweet and peaceful this new life of theirs. They had new purpose in it. Aziraphale called the children "just rewards" for a service well done. Crowley scoffed at that notion, but the angel continuously ignored him. For all the power Crowley and Aziraphale possessed, finally they had something meaningful they could openly claim as theirs. They had direct and uncontested control over their babies' happiness. No subtle interventions and stealth needed to achieve their goals. Well, at least as much as any parent needed it.
And none of that stupid "free will" stuff was needed as far as Aziraphale and Crowley were concerned. They would guide the babies safely through life. These little souls wouldn't hang in the balance, vulnerable to demonic and angelic influences trying to tip them towards either side. Free will was a nice idea for the humans. But his little ones would pass, thank you. They knew what was best for the children.[1]
A soft cough drew his attention sharply to the left. Most people wouldn't recognize the weak sound for what it was, but Crowley had learned in the last month to treat it as the only warning he would get before…oh too late. His third little baby, which had been quietly amusing itself this whole time, had spit up all over his leg. The baby was lightly covered in vomit (the permanent state of most babies), but it looked much happier for having shared it with Crowley's designer jeans. He quickly drew the leonine cub up before it could mouth all over the mess. He didn't think it would harm them, but it disgusted Aziraphale to no end so he tried to discourage it. Another nasty stain was already settling in the beloved 200 year old sofa. Luckily, these days the angel didn't seem to care as much.
Crowley hesitated. On the one hand, he could and should conjure up a towel or a wipe to get rid of the mess. On the other hand, how would his sweet child, who had been playing so nicely, know it was loved if he didn't show it in a way it understood? He looked at the baby, which looked back at him with four of its eyes and lazily licked its upper lip; already getting the picture. He glanced at the door to see if Aziraphale had sensed the impending bad manners from the supermarket a mile away and miraculously appeared to stop him.
The room remained angel-less.
Crowley pulled the baby closer and began to bathe it, one lick at a time. He cleaned its little snout. Then dragged his tongue through the fur of its chubby squirming belly and bathed it behind the ears for good measure, while the baby squiggled and garbled at the ticklish touch. Its tails snaked around Crowley's wrist and held on tight as its father tickled it.
"This stays between us. Okay, sugar?" He whispered to child, who squealed happily in response.
"What stays between you, darling?" Aziraphale asked.
Crowley jumped. And then yelped as the baby's flailing paw it him straight in the eye.
"Nothing, love" He said, painfully trying to look at the angel through his unharmed eye. "Just baby nonsense"
Aziraphale looked at him suspiciously. "Okay dear, I'll take your word for it." he smiled falsely, eyeing the pair of them skeptically. He swooped in and reached out for the baby in Crowley's arms, smiling broadly. For real this time.
"How are you, my little sweetheart?" he cooed, as he snuggled cheek to cheek with the baby. Hearts in his eyes and everything. The little cub licked him and pawed at his other daddy's bowtie. Aziraphale adjusted to cradle it in his arms and gently rock it, before turning to Crowley.
"And how were you, my other sweetheart?" he asked softly, aware of the two other sleeping babies in the room.
Crowley smiled back at him. "Okay now. For a while there, thought we might have a meltdown, but" he gestured to the room at large "all right now".
"You can always call me to come back, if you feel overwhelmed. Nothing is too small"
"I had it under control"
"I know, darling. But still" Aziraphale was giving him that look again. That once over he gave Crowley whenever he suspected him hiding something out of misplaced shame.
Aziraphale bent down towards him. Their lips meet and Crowley melted (something which Aziraphale did not need to know about. He showed too much softness as it was[2]). Aziraphale had only been gone for a few hours, but he was relieved to have him back.
The angel pulled back abruptly. That kiss had just been getting good! His hand moved up to his mouth.
"Darling, don't take this the wrong way" he said hesitantly from behind his hand. Indicating to Crowley he should take offense immediately. "But…did you eat something a bit…off?"
Oh shit. Crowley froze. He must never find out.
"Perhaps like a mouse or something?" Aziraphale questioned, looking slightly guilty. "I know you like them sometimes in your serpent form, but maybe this one was a bit…over-ripe. I don't know about snakes' stomachs but I really feel you shouldn't eat mice you don't hunt yourself. You really can't know the poor things have died from if you just happen upon them…deceased."
The excuse was right there, but he could NOT let stand that he ate dead mice! He could hunt his own mice thank you very much! And he only did it to scare people anyway. Or if the mice were particularly annoying…They knew what they did.
"Geez, if you think I have bad breath just say so. And I don't eat dead mice!" Crowley hissed, very insistent on that last part.
"What about that time in the zoo exhibit?"
"I was staying in character!"
"Oh, oh sorry darling. But perhaps I'll go get you a mint before we continue"
Aziraphale hurried off to the kitchen, baby cradled on his shoulder. Possibly to compose himself and think up a better apology, since he could have just conjured a mint from thin air.
Crowley stayed frozen in his indignant pose until he heard noises from the kitchen.
He took a deep breath and laid back. The alarm began to recede and the guilt settled in. He needed to find a way to make it up to Aziraphale unobtrusively. And he also needed to rethink using Animal Planet as a parenting guide.
[1] Future Crowley would later laugh long and mockingly at his own naivety for thinking this idea would go down smoothly. Especially with three beings who inherited their stubbornness from Aziraphale and rebelliousness from Crowley himself.
[2] Aziraphale could read Crowley like a book and had not missed this at all – neither now, nor the other six-hundred times it had happened.