Chapter Text
She pressed her lips together. She had enough mouths to feed without adding this one. Aziraphale usually watched this one at his own home and brought back a paycheck that always, without fail, went straight into his bank account. She was teaching her children independence, and it had thus far been working out wonderfully. Gabriel and Michael had turned out as excellent alphas, and she’d expected the same from her youngest.
Aziraphale had always been unique, however.
Still, she hadn’t been able to turn the little boy away. He was barely seven, impressionable and unable to take care of himself. His father didn’t seem to believe in self-reliance, at least not in the ways she did. His father expected them to just know how to cook and clean for themselves, not teach them or at least by giving gentle guidance as she had her own.
Aziraphale had told her before that the youngest Crowley child knew how to do a few small things in the kitchen, but fixing a bowl of sugary cereal was hardly good for them. Her children could all at least make grilled cheese at the stove by age seven. They could do their own laundry by nine, and so help them if they didn’t wash their dishes until they shone.
Unfortunately, she had to pick up her youngest son’s responsibilities. As she explained to the wide-eyed little redhead, “He’s upstairs dealing with his first heat. You shouldn’t bother him.”
Or her, for that matter. She had business to attend to, plans for Aziraphale’s future to finalise. His being an omega had thrown a few wrenches into the works, but the boy was still intelligent. He could still fulfil familial obligations in some other way. So she donned a hat, told Crowley where the remote was and left instructions for heating up a meal on the refrigerator door, and out she went.
Being left alone and in such a terse manner didn't phase young Anthony Crowley. His father often did the same so to the boy it was just a normal adult - child interaction. Nevermind he'd seen differently between the kids in his class and their parents.
The bag he'd packed with a few toys and his favourite handheld video game was left on a large leather sofa that was much nicer than the smaller one he had at home. In fact the entire Eastgate house was nicer and larger than his. His house didn't have two floors or marble counters in the kitchen or fancy adjustable lighting or a refrigerator with ice and water in the door. He was absolutely fascinated by it and the buttons for hot and cold water and crushed and whole ice. It was distracting enough trying to figure out how it all worked that Crowley entirely forgot about trying to make himself breakfast until he heard a creak from upstairs.
His eyes shot to the high ceiling and Crowley shifted from foot to foot. Mrs. Eastgate had said not to bother Aziraphale. That he was going through his first heat. Crowley knew what that was. Sort of. He knew it was something omegas went through every year and that it was Important. His father hadn't really explained anything beyond that and even that much had seemed a chore.
It meant he was curious, as he ever was. Curious and wondering just how important this heat thing could be and why it meant Aziraphale had called and said he couldn't watch him like he usually did.
Crowley left the kitchen, eyes still trained on the ceiling as he ascended the multi-landing staircase. It was carpeted and muffled his socked feet - Mrs. Eastgate had made him take his shoes off in the entryway. The higher he climbed the… heavier the air he breathed seemed. Heavy with a scent his too-young nose wasn't able to identify. It wasn't hard to breathe, necessarily, but it seemed to tickle something in the back of his mind that he couldn't quite grasp.
Having never been to Aziraphale's house before, Crowley would have had trouble knowing which of the closed doors belonged to him were there not little decorative signs hanging on each. Michael and Gabriel's signs were very plain, simple names carved into a flat block of wood, but Aziraphale's made him smile. He'd put little stickers of books around his name and hung the sign with a strip of tartan cloth. The letters might have jumped around a little but 'Aziraphale' was one of the words he'd practised on purpose.
He stopped just outside of Aziraphale's door and rocked from foot to foot. The smell he couldn't smell seemed even stronger here but that didn't deter him from knocking on the door. “Aziraphale? Um, your mum said you were up here.”
Of course she had. Aziraphale quickly wiped at his eyes with the tissues he'd been given when the fever had first started, but it was all he'd been given. He'd even asked for her to stay with him for a while, but she'd reminded him that he should get used to heats alone, that he needed to set alarms so he'd remember to eat or drink, and then she'd left.
She'd also made him place a call to the Crowley residence and cancel, the bellowing voice of the family patriarch making him cry right away. He hadn't let his voice waver, though, as he knew better. If Gabriel ever heard his sniffles, he'd never hesitated to invade his space and tell him tears were for puppies and they were too old and evolved for such things.
At least mum had given him tissues and the knowledge that crying was normal. “Your body will betray you, but do your best to keep your urges at bay.”
He pushed himself up and out of his nest. If the youngest Crowley was there, it must be a test. He pulled at the pyjamas that felt too tight and walked across a carpet that felt too rough on bare feet. The door opened quietly because Aziraphale kept the hinges well oiled to avoid anyone hearing when he crept downstairs at night when mum sent him to bed hungry. His smile was weaker than normal, but he worked one up for the younger pup.
“Hello, Anthony. Did your father bring you here?”
“Mm-hm.” Even in the low light Aziraphale's face looked flushed and a little sweaty, as if he was sick and Crowley hadn't ever seen him without at least two layers of clothes, usually more. “Dad said you can't skip out on ob-obli- ob-li-gat-ions so easy. I can, um… I can watch cartoons downstairs if you're feelin' bad though.”
Aziraphale sighed quietly, but shook his head. His usual urge to keep the younger pup safe welled up, so he opened the door a little wider. “I have a television in here if you want to watch your cartoons. Have you eaten breakfast?”
Crowley shook his head as he went inside, immediately looking around at all the shelves and books that were packed into this one room. There were even stacks on the floor. “Nah. Not really hungry anyway.”
“Alright. We'll need to eat soon, though.” He was only fourteen, but had felt twice his age most of his life. With two older siblings with no patience for him and a mother who believed in early independence, there hadn't been much time for a childhood. He read about others' childhoods instead, the imagination imparted into fiction his favourite thing. He was currently reading Alice in Wonderland to little Anthony, his usual reward for behaving.
His door closed quickly to keep his siblings out, even though they were at school abroad. He never knew when they would come home, especially Gabriel. Ever since he'd gotten his licence, he'd been home more. Gabriel never saw the way mum sighed when his car pulled up, though, only the smiles. Aziraphale wasn't sure what to think about that. Especially since he saw mum's sighs more than her smiles. As a result, he made sure Anthony and everyone else in the world got his smiles. “I'm not sick, if that's worrying you. It's just my first heat.”
“Yeah, that's what your mum said too.” He still didn't know what that really meant though but it was good to know he wasn't sick. Aziraphale never got sick. “Does it hurt?”
“No, but it's uncomfortable.” He didn't like to lie and was terrible at it to boot, so never bothered. He especially didn't lie to Anthony. A remote was retrieved from the shelf beneath the television settled onto a bureau. He didn't like it and had only used it to watch a few musicals. Just not Sound of Music. His mum loved it, so his siblings did and Aziraphale had, frankly, been burnt out on it by the time he'd been nine. “I have a chair over there or you can sit in my nest with me.”
Crowley only hesitated a moment before hopping right onto Aziraphale's bed. He knew, technically, you weren't supposed to go messing about with anyone's nest - as it was terribly rude - but Aziraphale had said he could sit there. So it was okay. “Does that mean you can't play?”
“Mm...” Aziraphale climbed into his bed, tucking Crowley in as he considered the question. “Not very well. When I leave my nest, everything feels... scratchy. The floor feels bad on my feet, and my slippers aren't much better. And even though I'm hot, I'm comfortable wrapped in my blankets.” But it was so very lonely. More than normal.
He was warm, reminding Crowley somewhat of a hot water bottle. And just as comfortable. He was more than happy to lean into him, head finding its way to Aziraphale's shoulder with ease. “That sucks. We can, ya know, stay here if it makes you feel better.”
Aziraphale sighed. He'd given up trying to correct Anthony's language. He was incorrigible. “That would be very nice, thank you. We'll find something you want to watch, alright? And if I fall asleep, you can play with whatever you like in here. Just stay out of all of the other upstairs rooms lest you make mum very cross with us both.”
“Why would she be cross? Not like they're here anyway.” Aziraphale's siblings were never home.
“Because it isn't your space, and you should be respectful of boundaries.” One of the many rules he could recite. But he slid an arm around Anthony and gave him a gentle squeeze. “Stay out of their rooms for me, please.”
Well, if it was for Aziraphale. “Okay, okay. Their rooms looked like they'd be boring anyway.”
“They are. Gabriel and Michael don't like decorations. They have paintings on the wall to keep their rooms from echoing, but they're simple architecture. Um. Buildings.” Aziraphale didn't know how exactly he could be related to two very different people. It was baffling, considering how full his own room was. Their mum's was beautiful, but he couldn't tell Anthony that. His curiosity was boundless. “Do you want the remote?”
That was an easy question to answer. “Yeah. Dad never lets me have the remote.”
Aziraphale knew. He also knew he wasn't supposed to let Anthony have it while they were together. He wasn't supposed to play certain games or with certain toys. He wasn't supposed to stay inside for too long. He wasn't supposed to read books unless they were approved (Alice in Wonderland had not been approved). But Aziraphale didn't care about all of that or understand the reasonings behind all of those rules. They seemed silly.
He bundled Anthony close as he flipped through channels, eyes closing and soft purrs rumbling. He knew, because he'd been told what to expect in explicit detail and then handed an anatomy book, that having someone in his nest wasn't right. It was especially not right when he was in heat.
But the anatomy book had also described the first heat, how it was filled with a need for nearness. How it was a preparation for all the changes to come the following year and all of the years to follow. There wasn't a gnawing need for the mating aspect, something that made his stomach churn with discomfort, but there was a desire for someone. It was why he'd bothered asking his mum to spend time with him in the first place, though her refusal hadn't been a surprise.
Part of him thought maybe she'd sent Anthony up there on purpose to give him someone to cuddle and hold like a teddy bear, but he knew better. He'd be gone as soon as his father came to get him and he probably wouldn't be back. Aziraphale breathed deeply and blinked welling tears away, not wanting to cry on Anthony and worry him. He was sweeter than his frightfully rough family would ever understand, just as Aziraphale was a little too wicked for his own. He thought Anthony might grow up to be someone clever and kind if given just a little bit more love.
The cartoon the pup stopped on made him sigh heavily. “This one? Really?”
“I like this cartoon.” It was one his older sister, Beez, liked and if she didn't mind the yellow cartoon bunny getting their arms chopped off he wouldn't either.
“But it's so mean. None of these poor things do anything to get hurt so much.”
“It's funny,” Crowley countered, though it didn't sound very convincing, more like he was reciting something he’d been told. “What do you usually watch?”
“Not this. Good things shouldn't be hurt like this,” Aziraphale scolded, wanting to tuck Anthony away somewhere no one told him this was funny. “You like music. I know a spooky sort of cartoon with music that I can put on.”
Crowley had to think about it but he'd always liked spooky things and not because his sister did too. “Okay. Is it something dad wouldn't like?”
Between the music, the moral, and the love story, Aziraphale didn't think the man would approve of it at all. “I think he would find it... childish. But the main character is a skeleton man and he's a king.”
Between it being something his dad wouldn't like and the description of the main character Crowley's eyes lit up. “That sounds cool.”
“Good.” Aziraphale made himself climb out of bed to fetch the film and put the bulky VHS tape into the slot. They were going to have to watch previews for films that had already aired, but that was okay. Anthony usually liked those and, most of the time, Aziraphale did too. He tucked back into the warmth and safety of his nest as soon as possible and let the film play.
Crowley settled in happily. He'd always liked that Aziraphale never listened to what his dad said was 'appropriate' and, well, Aziraphale was nice. Home was always so rough. Beez liked to pinch hard enough to leave bruises and Hastur thought it was great fun to lock him in the hall closet when he got annoyed. Crowley gave back just as good as he got, of course, but Hastur and Beez were bigger than him.
Aziraphale was always kind and gentle though. His dad said it made sense that he'd presented as an omega because he was so soft, but he said it like it was a bad thing. Like it was something Aziraphale's parents should have been ashamed of even though they already had two alpha kids. Crowley thought one alpha in the house - his sister - was bad enough. He couldn't imagine two.
So it was nice to get to settle into Aziraphale's nest and cuddle while they watched a film and not have to worry about someone hitting him on the back of the head or wiping a boogie on his arm. And he even liked the film. The music was fun and even if the love story in it made him kinda roll his eyes, the absurdity of it all overshadowed any prickling discomfort over how sad the doll-girl's song was.
He was enthralled enough in the story that Crowley barely noticed until a little over halfway through that Aziraphale was leaning more heavily against him. An arm around his middle and Aziraphale's head on top of his. It was… this was nice too. They were very physical at home but not like this. Not hugs and cuddles and soft things. Crowley didn't know why it made his stomach feel like it was full of butterflies, but he was momentarily distracted from that when he heard Aziraphale let out a little snore.
He was asleep. Now, at home falling asleep with his siblings was a sure fire way to end up with his hand dipped in warm water to make him wet himself or have gum stuck in his hair… but he didn't want to do either of those things to Aziraphale. Aziraphale was nice and patient when he struggled to read and patched up his scrapes when they happened. And, honestly, it just seemed even more mean to do something like that when he was already miserable in Heat.
So Crowley let Aziraphale snuggle him close while the film played on. It was warm in his nest, warm and soft and even though he was still much too young for any proper instincts there was still something that said this was alright. This was alright and good and Aziraphale's snoring purrs were just what he needed to let his own eyes droop. He could be safe here and know nothing would happen to either of them.
Aziraphale got quite the scolding for having Anthony in his room. Words like inappropriate, scandalous, wrong, and shameful were thrown about at top volume when Anthony was picked up by his father well after midnight. It was a normal time for him to return home, later only because the man had made it there and had to come back when his youngest son wasn’t to be found. Only then had he remembered to come get Anthony.
Only then had she thought to check in on her son to find the younger pup tucked in with him, the pair nestled into Aziraphale’s nest and sleeping soundly. It had been a shock to the system to find the younger pup being pulled away from him, jarring and overwhelming and unpleasant for them both.
Not to mention her reaction to Aziraphale’s protest in losing him. He so rarely protested anything that she found it unacceptable. She scolded and scolded until tears ran down Aziraphale’s face, then scolded some more.
Eventually, she was satisfied that Aziraphale understood how terribly he’d acted and how grateful he ought to be that she wasn’t going to share this indiscretion.
She’d never know that Aziraphale was grateful, yes, but didn’t at all think he’d done anything wrong. They’d watched cartoons - thankfully blood-free - and played a board game and practised Anthony’s reading after their nap. All the usual things he did while babysitting Anthony. The only difference was his own fever and the location. But “not fair” wasn’t in his vocabulary, even though he wasn't even able to return to the Crowley home a week later when summoned again. The hospital he'd been checked into couldn't be argued with, though, or have pups dropped off at unceremoniously, so it took a while before Aziraphale was able to go back.
He listened quietly and patiently to the usual rules, avoiding putting his shoes in a few mysterious dark spots on the torn carpet floors. There was a new hole in the drywall, perfectly Hastur-sized, but Aziraphale didn’t ask. It was never wise to ask what games the elder Crowley siblings played because he was always teased for his reactions.
There was no sign of Anthony, though. Even after his father left, the pup remained absent. With a small hum, hoping he wasn’t locked in another closet, Aziraphale made his way down the hall. Only one bedroom had a door, and Aziraphale never went in that one. He was fairly sure the owner of the house would kill him if he ever tried, so it was into the room shared by the two boys that Aziraphale cautiously entered.
“Hello?” he called, frowning when the fat toad in a tank by the window bellowed. “Not you. Anthony?”
A giggle, quiet and muffled, came from under one of the beds. It was a game and Crowley was trying to be as quiet as possible.
Aziraphale blew out a silent breath of relief. It would've been terrible of him to have lost the pup even though his own father hadn't bothered to make sure Anthony was in the home before leaving. He crept further into the room, pretending valiantly that it smelled of something nice rather than the vaguely damp scent Hastur's side of the room always seemed to carry. “Now where could that silly boy be?” he wondered, creeping closer to a bed that was too big for a First Year student. The toad bleated again and Aziraphale stuck his tongue out at it. “Now hush unless you have something helpful to add.”
Another muffled giggle made Aziraphale wiggle cheerfully. He hummed softly as he approached the bed. “Goodness, I'll never find him at this rate. I'll have to order and eat a pizza all alone.” It was another thing he didn't typically get for dinner, something neither of them were allowed. But Aziraphale had done a few extra chores at home for a little extra pocket money for this night. “And who will I give this present to? Mr. Toad, possibly?” The unimaginatively named amphibian stayed quiet at that, so Aziraphale's next sigh was genuine. Awful slimy creature.
It was almost impossible to keep his giggles at bay but Crowley was trying his best with his hands over his mouth. He could see Aziraphale's clean brown brogues - without even a single scuff - just in front of him. The promise of pizza had his full attention but Crowley knew his friend - for that was definitely what Aziraphale was - wouldn't eat it all without him.
“I'll have to play games all by myself,” Aziraphale lamented, reaching for Anthony's mussed blankets to tidy his bed out of habit. “And I even brought a film we might watch together. One with even more Halloween creatures. I could watch all on my own, I suppose, but who will I share popcorn with?”
“Me!” Crowley announced before clamping a hand back over his mouth. Dad never let them have popcorn even on the very rare occasion they went to the cinema and he'd momentarily forgotten he was trying to be quiet.
“Aha!” Aziraphale bent down to peek under the bed, catching sight of golden eyes in the rays of the toad's lamp that managed to stretch under the bed. “There you are! Foul fiend,” he teased, enjoying playing the part of one of the people in the older books he read. They always sounded so smart to him and no one else seemed to talk like they did.
Crowley giggled, grinning at him. “I knew you wouldn't eat without me.”
Aziraphale reached out and poked his nose. “Luckily for you. Now out you get. It’s dusty under there and we’re both going to start sneezing.”
“Not as dusty and dirty as under Hastur's,” Crowley said as he wiggled his way forward. “I clean under mine.”
In Aziraphale’s opinion, no one and nothing was as dirty as Hastur. Most of the time, he was able to keep that opinion to himself. “I hope you always clean better than Hastur.” He poked Anthony’s nose to watch it wrinkle, smiling at him. “Now I’m hungry. Peckish,” he corrected, enjoying the sound of that word much more. He’d been told it was better to eat like a bird and birds pecked. “So do you want popcorn now or should we order pizza?”
Crowley hummed and brushed off his threadbare denims. Aziraphale had said he was hungry and even as young as he was, Crowley couldn't stand the thought of his friend going without food. “Pizza first. That way we can keep playing.”
“Just until the pizza gets here.” Aziraphale held out a hand. “You can help me order.”
“Okay!” And Crowley had absolutely no hesitation in slipping his hand into Aziraphale's warmer, softer one. “Just no mushrooms, though. They're gross.”
“Alright.” It was easy to agree. He knew Anthony so rarely got his way in this house. As rarely as Aziraphale did, really, so it was a nice time for them both to get things they wanted.
He still got mushrooms on his half of a pizza Anthony requested had a stuffed crust. Aziraphale also carefully counted his money to ensure that they could get a soda to share. Soda had calories and he wasn't supposed to have many of those. He was still rounder and softer than anyone in his family wanted him to be, despite many efforts to put him on diets and force him into sports he didn't want to be a part of.
No one seemed as comfortable with him as he was with himself. No one but the seven year old who was absolutely giddy over a chance to play hide and seek in the thirty minutes or less they had before dinner arrived.
“Alright, yes, we can play. You can hide first.”
Crowley was practically bouncing on his toes because he'd been thinking about this since coming home from Aziraphale's house the last time and thinking about it hard. Or, at least as hard as a seven year old could think about something he didn't know that much about. But what he did know was that Aziraphale wasn't very happy. He always seemed sort of sad even when he was smiling and Crowley didn't want his friend to be sad anymore.
“Noooo. You already found me. It's your turn to hide now.”
Aziraphale’s smile weakened a little. He never liked hiding. No one ever seemed to look. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, it's what's fair.”
“Alright. Well... Why don't you count to ten twice and then come searching for me? That's twenty.”
Crowley's eyes went a little wide as he nodded. Twenty seemed like such a big number. “Okay. And hide really good, okay?”
“I will.” There were very few places he could go, but that was alright. He ruffled Anthony's hair the ways adults always seemed to ruffle his own curls. “No peeking now.”
“I won't! Peeking is cheating!” Crowley closed his eyes tight and pouted when he heard Aziraphale's chuckle. “You're not hiding.”
“You're not counting,” Aziraphale pointed out, but smiled as he backed away and the numbers began. The kitchen, he thought, would be the safest place. He didn't trust many other rooms.
Crowley dutifully counted to ten and then did so a second time, intently listening for any sounds of footsteps from Aziraphale. When he was done Crowley didn't immediately go searching for his friend. He might have been seven but even Crowley knew there were only so many places a bigger boy like Aziraphale could easily hide.
He looked around the living room first, just to make sure Aziraphale wasn't behind the ratty sofa, before tip-toeing his way to the bathroom down the hall. He'd planned this and had to sneak his surprise inside when Dad wasn't looking, Crowley didn't think he'd approve and he hadn't wanted his surprise snatched away or thrown out.
The bundle was hidden behind his back as he peeked into first the room he shared with Hastur and then Beez's room. He wasn't surprised when Aziraphale wasn't in either. That only left the kitchen, since he didn't think Aziraphale would go into his dad's room.
Butterflies felt like they were fluttering around his stomach as he made his back down the hall. Crowley really, really hoped Aziraphale liked his surprise.
Seated on the floor beneath the table, Aziraphale watched Anthony enter the room, surprised enough that a hand lifted to his heart. He could see him and the bundle he held as he stood in the doorway and looked around, his smile getting big and bright when he saw the older pup. He was missing teeth. Some naturally, some courtesy of siblings and their rough games. If Aziraphale had a camera, his history loving heart would've taken a photograph. Especially since Anthony made a beeline for him. “You found me.”
“Of course I did,” Crowley replied with all the confidence of a child. “You didn't even try to hide in the attic like Beez does because she knows I'm not tall enough to reach the pull-string.”
Aziraphale gave him a pained look. “There are spiders in attics.”
Crowley giggled and knelt with some difficulty as he kept the one hand behind his back. “Beez likes spiders.”
Beez was odd. Not quite as odd as Hastur, admittedly, but very close. “That's her business, not mine. What are you doing?”
“Um…” Crowley shifted on his knees, very much forgetting the little speech he'd planned out. “Well, Dad says I'm too soft to be an alpha but-but he's wrong. When I grow up, I'm gonna be an alpha and… um…” This felt 'sort of' like the right time, if there ever was one, so Crowley revealed his fist full of wildflowers from behind his back and shoved them at Aziraphale. “And when I grow up I'm gonna marry you.”
They were a little broken, stems held too tightly in his fist. They were also a little wilted from their time in hiding. To Aziraphale, they were beautiful. He'd never been given flowers before. He rescued the little bundle from Anthony with a little giggle. “Are you?”
“Mm-hm. You're my best friend and-and if I'm gonna marry anyone it's you.”
It was silly and Aziraphale was at least old enough to know that. A little bundle of flowers wasn't how anyone proposed. Not in any of the books or movies he'd seen, anyway. Still, he leaned in and kissed Anthony's forehead. “Then I'd marry you even if you weren't an alpha.”
Crowley's eyes went a little wide. “You would?”
“Yes. But if you want to be an alpha, I know you will be. I'm going to put these in some water, okay?”
“Okay.” Crowley stood, giddy as could be as he rushed over to the kitchen cabinets to pull out a glass. Aziraphale liked his flowers and agreed to marry him. In his little mind, nothing could get better than this.
Aziraphale didn't watch him everyday. Sometimes he just wasn't needed or Mum and Dad forgot. Crowley wasn't sure which one this was since Dad had left for work early in the morning. Mum hadn't said where she was going, exactly, but he thought it might have been to the store and at the first murderous look from Beez across the kitchen table when she announced she wasn't going to be responsible for or play with him, Crowley had decided he knew one person who would always want to play. So he'd packed a little bag and got to walking.
All things considered the little village they lived in wasn't very large at all and for a teenager it probably felt quite confining but to a seven year old it was the world and walking to his best friend's house was an adventure. He had to cross four whole streets all by himself! But a smile broke out when he caught sight of the large, white front of the Eastgate home.
His pace quickened, especially when he saw Aziraphale carrying a bag to his family's pearly SUV. “Aziraphale! Aziraphale!”
Beside Aziraphale, his mother sighed like she did when Gabriel came home. “For Heaven's sake, I told that man you couldn't watch him anymore. No one in that house listens.”
Anthony listened. Sometimes to only specifically worded instructions, but he'd never given Aziraphale trouble. Not since the first night he'd babysat him. Aziraphale set his bag in the boot just in time to turn and catch Anthony in a tight hug. “What are you doing here?”
“Dad's at work and mum went out and Beez is Beez and I wanted to play.” It all came out in a fast string of words as Crowley hugged him tight around the neck. “And it wasn't that far to walk.”
It was that far to walk. He could've gotten hurt. Still holding tight, Aziraphale picked the smaller pup and turned to his mum. “Can we-”
She held up a hand. “Absolutely not. We will take him home, and then we will continue on. We have a train to get to, Aziraphale.”
Crowley immediately began to pout, head craning back to look at the severe frown on Mrs. Eastgate's face. “But I want to plaaayy.”
“There will be no whining. I will not tolerate it.”
Aziraphale pressed his lips together. “I'm sorry, mum. Anthony, you can... Will you help me bring another bag downstairs?”
He sighed as dramatically as a boy his age could. “Yeah, I guess I can help.”
“Thank you.” Aziraphale carried him inside, noting the pointed way his mother looked at her watch. “Anthony... You can't come here anymore, alright? After today.”
“Wot?” Crowley leaned back to look at him, eyes wide. “Why not? Is it cause your mum's mean?”
Yes, but Aziraphale couldn't say that. It wasn't the whole truth anyway. He set Anthony down on the bottom step. “Do you remember... that school's gonna start soon?”
Crowley nodded. “Yeah. Mum's mad 'cause Hastur cut up his old backpack so I couldn't use it and now she has to go find a new one.”
“I have one,” Aziraphale offered, eager to give him something. “I’ll show it to you, and you can have it if you like it.”
“Okay, but why can't I come anymore?”
“I’ll tell you upstairs,” he promised and tugged Anthony along before his mum could catch him putting his chores off. His room was far more empty than the last time Anthony had seen it, books missing from shelves and the armoire he opened missing quite a few clothes. There were uniforms where he was going, but they weren’t required on certain days and he was expected to dress his best. He swallowed hard as he retrieved the leather satchel he’d been carrying around the last two school years. It was still pristine as Aziraphale was very good at taking care of his things, but he would trust it to Anthony.
He turned back to him, taking in how still he’d gotten. Aziraphale gave him a watery smile and crossed with the bag. “Here. What do you think?”
Crowley took the bag easily, the leather soft where Aziraphale had rubbed it many times already. “But… this is your school bag.”
“I have a new one,” he said quietly. “Because… I have to go away for school. L-like my siblings.”
“You're… going away?”
“Mmhm. And… I don’t know when I’ll come back. It’s a different school from my siblings.” Because he was an omega and, apparently, that meant he had to learn different things. At least that was what mum said.
“So… So you won't be watching me anymore?”
“I can’t. It’s too far, and I can’t drive like Gabriel. Mum and I are taking the train.”
He was absolutely not tearing up because he was too big to cry, that's what dad said anyway. “But… But why.”
Aziraphale pulled him right in for another hug, purrs soft even though he wanted to cry too. “I have to do what mum says, and she wants me to go to a big school.”
“That's not fair,” Crowley complained around a sniff. “You can't leave.”
He didn’t want to, but he knew better than to say that. “I’ll come back,” he promised. “As soon as I can, okay?”
Crowley nodded slowly and hugged him tighter. “Okay. And-and you'll play when you come back?”
“As long as you’re not gross like Hastur and are still nicer than Beez, I will.”
That actually made him giggle. “No way. I'd never be like them.”
“Never?” Aziraphale asked, lightly poking at his sides to make him giggle more. “You’re always going to be my favourite Crowley?”
“Obviously,” Crowley said while tucking into Aziraphale's embrace, not knowing how long it would be before he could have this again. “I'm the Crowley you're gonna marry.”
“That’s right.” He could hear his mum moving about, so gave Anthony one more tight squeeze. “I love you a lot, okay?”
Crowley nodded and very much did not want to let go. “I know. I love you, too.” More than he knew how to say or even understand.
Aziraphale let him go because he had to, picking up one more bag with the last of his things, hesitating only a moment before he picked up his copy of Alice in Wonderland and a pen. He never wrote in books, but for this, he thought he could make an exception.
The message scribbled, Aziraphale slipped it into his old bag and took the smaller hand in his so he could at least make sure Anthony made it home safe and sound.
“It'll all be okay,” he promised. He thought it was a lie, but Aziraphale had always been a bad liar.