Chapter Text
There’s a knock on Crowley’s door, but he doesn’t look up from his desk.
“Come in,” he says distractedly. “Halt, is that you?”
“Yes,” Halt’s gruff voice responds. “You wanted some help?”
“With these papers,” Crowley confirms, shuffling around piles on his desk – did he put them under those notes from Duncan, or did he file them with the rest of his I-don’t-even-know-where-to-start documents? “Everyone’s got to be in the know, apparently, and I can’t fill in all those damn details when I wasn’t there – uh.”
Crowley’s frozen with one hand outstretched, offering the papers to Halt. Except Halt doesn’t have a hand free to take them.
“Halt? What… what do you have, there?”
“A coffee,” his friend replies, lifting both the cup and one of his brows. “I picked it up from the kitchens before I came up.” Crowley gives him a deadpan stare.
“I’m obviously talking about the baby you’re holding, Halt.”
Sure enough, a small bundle rests in the crook of Halt’s other arm. The baby wriggles just slightly at Crowley’s words, as if he knows he’s being talked about. All Crowley can really see is the wispy curls of dark brown hair and curious brown eyes, which are trained on Halt.
“Well, it sounds like you’ve solved the mystery without my help, then,” Halt says sagely, approaching the desk and kicking out a chair to sit down. “This is, in fact, a baby.”
Halt can make light of the situation all he wants, but Crowley notices the bags under his eyes and the fine tremor in his hands as he puts his steaming mug down on the very edge of the desk. The free hand moves to rest on the baby instinctively, and the baby lets out a quiet babble and wraps a tiny hand around Halt’s thumb.
“What happened?” Crowley asks quietly, enraptured by the baby. He hadn’t met a lot of babies, save the princess. He thinks there’s something about holding a baby – like once you’ve held someone that small and precious in your arms, you’re bound to want to protect them forever. He’d die for little Cassandra because she’s the princess, of course, but also because he shushed her in some of the first cries of her life and whispered stories to her to keep her settled in his arms during that awful ride back from the abbey.
“His parents are gone,” Halt says just as quietly, regret and sorrow embedded in his words. “I’m looking after him, now. I’ll – I’m taking him to Arald, where he’ll be safe. Your letter came before I headed off, so I brought him along.”
“We can have one of the maids take him to – “
“No,” Halt says a little too loudly, quickly. Crowley looks up from the baby’s face in surprise, seeing Halt unconsciously cradle the baby closer. “No, he’s fine. I’ve got him.”
“…alright,” he agrees, bewildered. “He’s fed, then? Comfortable?” Halt rolls his eyes.
“I fed him before I went to get coffee, of course,” he says, and the baby hiccups in confirmation. “He’s okay.”
“Does he have a name?” Crowley asks as the baby finally seems to realize that there’s someone other than Halt in the room. He turns his little head and coos at Crowley, cheek resting on the bed of Halt’s elbow. Crowley smiles at him reflexively, reaching out, darting a glance at Halt, who nods and holds the baby a little closer.
“His name is Will,” Halt says as Crowley brushes the impossibly soft cheek, and both men smile when Will lets out a delighted giggle and snags Crowley’s calloused fingers to put in his mouth.
“A good name,” Crowley says, and Will laughs again, gazing up at Crowley with a gummy smile. “Yes, Will – a strong name.” He gently pries his fingers away from Will, knowing he shouldn’t let the baby gum on the ink splotches staining his hands. Will lets out a desperately sad little cry at the loss and Crowley’s heart pangs.
Halt’s does too, if his grimace is any sign, and he leans back to hold Will closer.
“Sh, Will, it’s what’s best for you,” and the words are so weighted that Crowley doesn’t think Halt is just talking about ink. “Sh, now.”
Held so close to Halt’s chest, Will can probably feel the rumble of Halt’s deep voice as well as hear the Hibernian burr, and he quiets immediately and turns his eyes back to Halt. He seems wholly trusting as he reaches up towards Halt’s face, gibbering softly. Halt leans his face down to his, eyes soft as Will’s little hands stretch to either side of his face, smoothing and grasping gently at his beard. Will lets out a happy little shriek at the coarse feeling under his fingers, and Halt scoffs out a laugh.
“Ow,” he says as Will tugs a little too hard on the left side of his beard, but Halt doesn’t jolt away. “You’re a menace.”
“He’s strong,” Crowley notes, tilting his head with a smile as Halt leans his face away, offering his hand again. Will accepts the replacement easily, settling in Halt’s arms once again and clutching his thumb.
“Yes,” Halt says, looking back at Crowley. “Maybe we’ll see him as a Ranger, one day.”
Crowley glances fondly at Will, trying to imagine him as a boy, fourteen, fifteen years from this day.
“I’m sure we will.”