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Crowley closed his eyes and let the warm water fall over his face and onto his body. He momentarily debated whether to wash his hair. He was very tired, but his hair could probably use a bit of a refresh. The squirt of shampoo into his hand sealed his decision and he rubbed a lather into his scalp. Conditioner followed and he flipped his head upside down to scrunch his hair under the water as he rinsed it out. Hands hesitated near the two soap dishes on the wall and he ultimately chose Aziraphale’s soap of the month - honeysuckle. He loved smelling like his husband and smiled at the simple thought of him. His hands circled around his skin, avoiding his full breasts so as not to get soap where the baby would likely be eating in the next hour. Moving to his belly, he looked down and smiled at the fullness that still lingered. His belly was smaller, obviously, than it had been when he was pregnant, but he wasn’t near his original flat shape nor did he want to be. He was happy to have all of the lingering reminders of pregnancy.
He regarded himself in their bedroom cheval mirror after his shower. How many times had he stood there and stared from the early weeks of his pregnancy, taking in the changes to his body? He was in love with the lingering curve to his hips, the mix of snakeskin and golden stretchmarks, though fading, his full breasts and the plumpness to his ass. Aziraphale had been right - he and his body were miraculous. A wonder. Crowley was in no hurry to have his body “bounce back,” a concept he thoroughly loathed and spoke against.
Crowley realized he was feeling a certain type of way as he picked out the skimpiest nursing bra he had and a thong. “Fuck it,” he said and he threw the bra back in the drawer. He loved his bras on some days, hated them on others. They were staying home today and there was no need to worry about leaks. If he leaked, he leaked. He pulled on a crop top he had made out of an old Ziggy Stardust t-shirt and completed the look with a pair of short shorts that left nothing to the imagination. He and Aziraphale had not resumed sex yet, but Crowley knew he was incredibly close to feeling ready and he enjoyed teasing the angel.
Suddenly dying of thirst, he grabbed his water bottle and walked into the kitchen to refill it. A glance out the window filled his eyes with the sight of his gorgeous husband rocking on their porch swing - a freestanding number that Crowley had built with the Angel and Newt two weeks ago, much to the delight of Anathema who was able to steal copious amounts of baby snuggles while the trio worked. It had a pergola top that could be canopied on late summer days like this one.
Though it was September, the sun was still strong and warm, and a gusty breeze kept the air refreshing. Aziraphale glowed in the sunlight like he always does and Crowley caught his breath at the sight of him. He was dressed in loose linen trousers in a very delicate khaki on khaki tartan print with braces that were stretched over a soft yellow linen shirt, the sleeves of which were loosely rolled up. The top buttons of his shirt were opened to reveal his silvery white chest hair. Aziraphale knew how to be a tease as well. He held a book in one hand and their sweet baby in the other arm, gently swaying in the swing.
Crowley poured him a glass of ice water and put it on a tray with a few biscuits and a bowl of mixed berries. He added his own obnoxiously giant water bottle and headed out to the porch, where the low register of Aziraphale’s voice mixed with birdsong and crickets.
“Piglet sidled up to Pooh from behind.
‘Pooh!’ he whispered. ‘Yes, Piglet?’
‘Nothing,’ said Piglet, taking Pooh's paw. ‘I just wanted to be sure of you.’”
Aziraphale was reading to the baby from one of his Winnie the Pooh books. Tartan was wide awake and transfixed with Aziraphale, gazing up at his face, tiny hands and feet moving all around.
Crowley stood there and watched silently, his heart full of starlight. Aziraphale as a father was one of the most wondrous things he had ever witnessed and he was grateful at every minute of every day that this was their life now. Aziraphale was calm, gentle, and confident - even when he put nappies on incorrectly or struggled with the buttons on a babygrow. He eased into his role as a father with a lighthearted, yet fierce and protective, grace that made Crowley fall in love with him every time he looked at him. Or thought of him. Or heard him. Or smelled him. And so on. Eager and encouraging, he offered the perfect support to Crowley all throughout pregnancy and into their new journey as parents. Had they not already been married, Crowley would run over to him now and propose to him.
He balanced the tray on one hip and pulled his phone from his back pocket. He snapped several shots of Aziraphale reading to the baby. He smiled at the look on Tartan’s face. They were besotted with Aziraphale, something that was quite evident even during Crowley’s pregnancy. Crowley knew he was about to do what he has done best in this last year - cry - so he moved to join them.
“Mind some company?” Crowley asked shyly. “Brought you some water and a snack. Figured tea could wait until later.”
Aziraphale looked up. “Oh, we’d adore your company.” He watched Crowley set the tray on a little end table and swallowed very hard. He would not have impure thoughts. He would not have impure thoughts. He would not have impure thoughts. There. That worked. God, Crowley in those shorts…and a crop top…with those tits. Technically, invoking God meant his thoughts were pure.
Crowley caught the look in Aziraphale’s eye and winked at him. “None of your thoughts are in the Bible, Aziraphale,” he laughed as he sat down tickling a few tiny toes that kicked in the angel’s arm.
“I’m afraid not. And I’m rather pleased with that.” He leaned over and kissed Crowley chastley, thankyouverymuch, on the lips. “Thank you for the refreshments, my dear. Did you enjoy your shower?”
“Wasn’t half bad. Bit lonely, if you ask me.” He smirked at Aziraphale. “How is the reading going? I see you have a captive audience.”
“They’ve been a fan since before birth and don’t show any signs of getting bored from too much Winnie the Pooh. One can never have enough Pooh.” He tickled a finger on Tartan’s nose.
Crowley laughed at Aziraphale’s unintentional joke. “Well, Tartan agrees that one can never have too much poo of any variety.”
Aziraphale rolled his eyes and groaned. He looked at Tartan intently. “One thing you’ll learn about your Daddy is that the jokes never get much better.” He chuckled.
Crowley moved closer and rested his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder. “Keep reading, please.” He traced the baby’s hand with his finger, smiling when they grasped onto it. “Hey there, little angel.” He felt soothed by the low vibrations of Aziraphale’ voice as he continued on with the story. Now and then, the angel would turn his head and drop a kiss to Crowley before continuing, pushing them back and forth in a gentle slow swing. Crowley dozed momentarily before awakening to the snuffling sounds that would be the precursor to whimpers from a hungry baby.
Aziraphale shifted them. “There now, Daddy is right here.” He carefully put down his book and passed the baby to Crowley’s waiting arms.
“I’ve got you, tiny star,” Crowley whispered, lifting his shirt up and latching the baby onto his chest. He looked into their determined little eyes, smiling down at the flash of familiarity he saw in them. “Did you enjoy your Winnie the Pooh with Papa? Listening to Papa’s voice is one of my favorite things in the world and I know it’s yours, too.”
Baby nestled happily into the crook of one arm, Crowley caressed their tender head with his other hand. Feathery wisps of strawberry blonde hair poked up in several directions, catching the sunlight like the shy licks of a flame. “Look at these wild little whispers of hair. Bet you’re going to be a curly top like us, tiny angel.” He closed his eyes when the burning prickles of letdown tickled under his skin. He opened them as he heard the steady swallowing from Tartan as they drank the hindmilk that was now flowing.
“That’s it. That’s the good fatty stuff. Like a milkshake.” Crowley smiled. He didn’t think he’d ever grow fond of the sensation of letdown, but he fucking loved how his body was working to feed their baby. It was another piece of his healing puzzle that he desperately needed. Just as he had been with menstruation, pregnancy, and birth, he felt linked to the countless parents over the millenia that he had helped with this very process. The Starmaker who was cast from Heaven and became the Demon Crowley, Serpent of Eden, was still capable of creating life, nourishing it, and sustaining it. It was a thought that took his breath several times each day, just as it was now as his tears came. Tartan watched him intently.
Aziraphale put his arm around Crowley, who leaned into him more. “My dear boy, I love you so,” he whispered with his lips against his temple, leaving a kiss there. “You are an incredible mother.” Kiss. “As a matter of fact, you are an incredible father.” Kiss. “You are an incredible husband.” Kiss. “You are an incredible wife.” Kiss. “You are an incredible everything.” Kiss.
“Well, that won’t slow down my tears,” Crowley laughed softly. He kissed Aziraphale gently on the lips. “You’re the glue that holds our entire universe together, Aziraphale. I know I say it a million times a week, but thank you for life, for our lives, for making our world safe and free and full of love. Thank you.”
“There go my own tears,” Aziraphale said. “Look at the way they look at you, Crowley. Like you hung the very stars.”
Crowley let out a sob. Tartan continued their eager work at his chest, eyes moving to fixate on Crowley, then Aziraphale, then back to Crowley, watching them as they spoke. Crowley bent down to kiss their forehead. “And you gave me this star, Angel,” Crowley whispered.
Aziraphale ran his fingers up and down the back of Crowley’s head, letting them twirl and tangle in ringlets and waves. He rested his head against Crowley’s and enjoyed the breeze, their gentle swaying on the porch swing, and the sounds of a tiny baby having a fine meal. He reached over to the tray and picked up Crowley’s water bottle, popping up the straw. He held it up for Crowley to drink, knowing he gets an intense thirst within minutes of beginning to nurse. He followed it up by feeding him a few berries from the bowl. Aziraphale loved the fact that he could still nurture and dote on Crowley post-pregnancy. Moreso, he loved the fact that the demon knew he was worthy of such treatment.
Crowley eventually sat up as the baby unlatched themselves. “Hungry little beastie, hmm?” He brought them up to his shoulder and carefully rubbed his hands in small circles on their back. “There now, little angel, give us a good one.” Both Crowley and Aziraphale’s eyes widened at the explosive sounds that came from both ends of the baby.
Crowley laughed. “Compliments to the chef, I suppose.” He looked at a giggling Aziraphale. “Sounds like the kind of nappy Papa would love to change.”
Aziraphale held out his hands. “I never back down from a challenge.” He took the baby in his arms and stood. “Cloth or no?”
“I prefer to use cloth more than not, if you don’t mind, Angel.” They’d used disposables in the beginning to make it easier as they adjusted, but it was far from Crowley’s ultimate preference. “The easy ones are front and center, Angel.” He’d gotten plenty of varieties of cloth nappies, including the “all-in-ones” the angel preferred as they were the easiest and quickest for him to get the hang of. Crowley closed his eyes and leaned his head back. He was very tired today. Tartan was obviously close to another growth spurt or milestone - or both - as they had been nursing up a storm the past two days. He’d never trade a second of it - even the challenging bits. He began to laugh quietly to himself as he heard the angel’s voice from inside.
“By all the Saints in Heaven, have mercy! How does any one being poop this much? It’s just not possible.”
Crowley let the sway of the porch swing and the sounds of birds and bugs enjoying his gardens lull him into a short contented doze. He was awakened by the sound of the porch door opening and closing. Aziraphale approached, holding a still very wide-awake Tartan in a new babygrow.
“Here we are, fresh as a daisy!” Aziraphale announced. “Quite the adventure, that one. No sooner had I changed them then they needed another new nappy. And that other babygrow may be done for without a miracle.”
Crowley chuckled. “Good thing I know someone who does miracles.” He held his hands out. “Give us a wee beastie.”
Aziraphale handed the baby to Crowley and sat next to him on the swing. “This truly was the best idea. I do love a nice swing. It’s a perfect way to spend a morning. Or an afternoon. Or an evening.” He kissed Crowley on the cheek. “Thanks to our master builder.”
Crowley held Tartan in his lap, keeping a hand under their head and angling them up just a bit as he cooed in their face. “Look at you all wide awake despite drinking down an entire tit. Bet you’ll be a few centimeters taller by tomorrow morning.” Tartan alternated looking at both parents’ faces. “They start tracking movement with their eyes around this stage.”
Aziraphale moved a finger in the air between Crowley’s face and the baby’s eyes. Tartan followed his finger. “Look at that!” He said in wonder. “That’s new.”
“Look at you learning new things,” Crowley cooed. He leaned down to kiss their nose. Aziraphale followed and leaned in to drop a kiss to one tiny little baby nose. “Do you like Mama and Papa kisses? Oh, I bet you do. I bet you do.”
Aziraphale looked at Crowley with stars in his eyes. Crowley babbling and cooing at babies would never get old for him. He soaked it up and cherished it. He looked back at the baby just in time to see it. “Was….was that?” He asked in astonishment.
“I think so, Angel. Oh my God, I think so!” Crowley beamed. “Did you give Papa and Daddy a smile, Tartan?” He tickled a finger on the baby’s belly. “Was that a smile?” The baby stared at them both, making tiny sounds before once again working their tiny mouth into a wide smile, showing off toothless gums. Crowley’s eyes were immediately wet. Their baby smiled a real smile. Not a goofy little smirk from gas. This was a genuine, happy little baby smile. Naked gums and all.
Aziraphale broke into a sob. It wasn’t just because this was a beautiful milestone for their baby. This was something incredible. “Oh, Crowley,” he sobbed. His cry grew louder when the baby looked right at him and smiled for a third time, making a tiny noise with it. He looked at that smile and then the smile and expression on Crowley’s face. It took him a moment to catch his breath. He felt Crowley’s hand on his arm.
“Crowley…that’s your smile. That’s your smile. It’s yours. Your smile.” He couldn’t stop repeating the sentiment over and over. All he could see was the smile of an angel he encountered in the heavens ages ago. The same smile Crowley wore during their private moments. The smile on Crowley’s face the moment this perfect little creature slipped out of him. The smile Crowley wore now. It was Crowley in his deepest, most true nature - one that hardly anyone outside of Aziraphale was privy to.
Tears streamed down Crowley’s face because Aziraphale was right. There was no denying it. He tickled their little belly again. “Can you muster up one more for your dear old Daddy and Papa? If…if you want.” Tartan gave them another bright smile and it was Crowley who broke dramatically this time. He recognized himself in that little toothless grin. “You’re so beautiful,” he said in reverence of this little creature. “So perfect. Thank you for the little smiles.” He gave them another small kiss to the forehead.
Tartan began to show hunger cues and Crowley lifted his shirt and latched them on. “Knew you’d be back for the other tit.” He laughed. Tartan finally grew sleepy as they nursed. So did Crowley. He took sips of the water bottle held up by Aziraphale and leaned his head on his shoulder.
Aziraphale held Crowley with their sweet nursing babe in his arms. “You can let yourself sleep, my darling. I’ve got you both.” He kissed his head. He felt Crowley’s head grow heavier as he leaned on him and his breathing steadied into a simple, calm rhythm. The baby quietly dozed, still attached to the nipple, though only reflexively suckling from time to time. His arms were wrapped protectively around them both as the swing swayed the three of them back and forth gently with the breeze.
Aziraphale wasn’t sure if his whispered prayer of gratitude was noticed or heard up above. He didn’t exactly care. All Aziraphale knew was that he was deliriously happy and there wasn’t a thing he’d change about their life together now. Not even diaper explosions.