Chapter Text
Chapter 1: No Man Could Understand, My Power is in My Own Hand
Adam J. Fell woke up the morning of his 11th Birthday with a pit in his gut. He had been warned by his fathers time and time again what was supposed to happen today.
Today, he would come into his full power as the antichrist.
Then, a hell hound would appear before him, and it would begin the countdown to the apocalypse where he would end the world.
But hopefully it wouldn’t come to that.
Adam laid in the bed for just a little longer than he normally would have. It was his birthday, he figured he was allowed. And even if he wasn’t, he didn’t particularly care. Adam rolled himself over and tried desperately to fall back asleep. If he slept past 3, well Dad might be mad (accuse him of sloth) but he also couldn’t somehow name the hell hound if he was asleep. And then neither of his dads could be mad at that. And he’d save the world! He could do this. He could do this.
Right?
There was a sudden crash down stairs and Adam jumped.
“Shit,” he heard Pop’s voice carry up the stairs. Adam took a deep breath, trying to calm his heart down.
“Watch your language!” Dad chided. Adam could just picture the look he was giving Pop. “Adam could be up by now.”
“And he’s heard far worse living in this house, I assure you, Angel,” Pop snapped back. “Now help me move this present.”
“I can’t, I’m making his breakfast. And Crepes are delicate.”
He didn’t hear Pop’s sigh in return really, but Adam knew he did all the same. “What in heaven am I going to do with you Angel?”
“Usually whatever you like…”
Adam had to stop this before it got gross and they forgot to put up a sound blocking miracle. Again. “You two are both gross, you know that?” He shouted from his bed. He pushed himself up and sat up right, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
“Oi!” Pop shouted. “Hasn’t your dad taught you eaves dropping isn’t proper or polite or whatever?”
“Yeah, but you told me to do it anyway when it’s useful!” He slid off his bed and wrapped himself up in his red tartan dressing gown, a compromise in styles, he had always thought.
“Crowley,” Dad chided Pop, again. “Uhh, Adam, dear, since you’re awake, we do have crepes down here. If you’re hungry.”
“On my way.” He said finally stepping into his slippers and out of his room. He padded down the hall and down the stairs, past pictures of Dad and Pop throughout the centuries (ancestors if anyone ever asked). More recent ones had Adam in them too. And those were much more public, just in case.
At the bottom of the stairs he saw Dad trying desperately to turn the iPad back on so he could check the recipe again. His khaki apron covered in the residue of his baking efforts today. Pop had given up whatever manual labor he was doing and miracling the presents into a neat pile in the corner while he sipped a coffee.
“You guys didn’t have to get me anything,” Adam said, feeling guilty, the pit in his gut still there despite the comforting presence of his parents. “Unless you can miracle the entire world to skip today, then I really don’t want anything special.”
“We’re not treating this birthday any different,” Dad said from the kitchen, plating a crepe. “Because it is still your birthday, and that’s exciting, and, well, we’ve always celebrated.”
“Yeah, what he said,” Pop said with a dismissive shrug. His yellow eyes finally drifted over to Adam with a small smile. “One if we could skip this day, we would, trust us.” Pop took a big sip of his coffee. “And two, if we deviate from the routine now, who knows what attention we’ll draw to ourselves. From today on, we’re on high alert from up stairs and down below. Besides you asked for headphones a week ago.”
“Crowley,” Dad whispered through his teeth. “There’s no need to make him any more nervous.”
Pop looked at him carefully. “Are you nervous?”
Adam could only manage a small nod as he suddenly needed to examine the whole in his sock.
Pop walked up to him and clapped him on the shoulder. “You’ll be fine Adam, we’ve planned for this, remember?”
Adam couldn’t answer aloud, but nodded.
Dad had stopped fiddling with breakfast and walked over to the pair. “And no matter what happens, we’re here to help you deal with it.” He rested his hand on Adam’s other shoulder. “And I’m sure you’ll feel better with some crepes in you.”
Adam had to giggle a little at that. “Yeah, I probably would.” The three of them slowly made their way over to the little table in the kitchen. Dad had made three plates of crepes, even though Pop was unlikely to eat. There were strawberries and peaches on the table, and even a few apples from the tree in the back yard. Adam sat down at his usual spot and poured himself orange juice.
“I really can’t believe you made Crepes, Angel, after what happened last time you wanted crepes,” Pop muttered as he picked up the newspaper from the counter and took the seat to Adam’s left.
“That was hardly my fault, my dear,” Dad said as he took his usual seat to Adam’s right. “How was I supposed to know I’d actually be captured when I was trying not to perform miracles?”
“What?” Adam asked incredulous.
“Oh have we not told you this story before?” Pop asked, amusement covering his expression, his yellow eyes twinkling. “It’s one of the best.”
Dad sighed, but said nothing, which Pop took as all the permission he needed to continue, “Well, your dad decides, in the middle of the Reign of Terror.”
“Do you know what the reign of terror is Adam?” Dad asked, interrupting.
“Sounds bad?” Adam asked as he began cutting up his crepe.
“Yeah, French Revolution. Lots of rich, noble idiots getting their heads chopped off because the people were tired of their bollocks.”
“Crowley.” Dad leveled Pop with exactly one second of warning glare for the swear.
“Sounds like something Pepper would approve of,” Adam joked.
Pop and dad both snorted at that.
“Indeed she probably would. However, It wasn’t all romantic as that,” Dad clarified. “IT was very bloody and lots of good people died too. I have some books on it for you to read if you’d like.” Pop scoffed. “It was a very long series of revolutions.”
“Like Les Miserables?”
“Yeah, ANYWAY,” Pop said trying to reclaim control of the conversation, “So like I said, lots of posh rich people being systematically killed, and just what do you think your dad was dressed like when he decided to pop across the channel on a whim because he had a craving for crepes.”
Dad was giving pop a completely unamused look.
Adam let out a hesitant answer, “Well, knowing dad, he was probably dressed really fancy, and looked a bit like the posh people being killed?”
“What a polite answer, Adam, thank you,” Dad said, his voice warm. “Glad you’ve learned some manners, unlike someone at this table.”
“The point is, Adam, the point is, is that you’re right. He’s dressed like a right, proper lord, lace, fancy shoes and all, and he gets himself captured by some of the revolutionaries.” Pop leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying this story. “And if that isn’t enough on it’s own, he’d just received,” Pop crinkled up his nose and suddenly took on snobbish high pitched voice, “a reprimand for too many superfluous miracles.” Dad rolled his eyes as he returned to his normal voice. “Ridiculous.”
Adam turns his head toward Dad and quickly swallowed another mouthful of crepe. “Dad, what did you do?”
Dad smirked, he’d say devilishly but it was dad so Pop had said to call it impish lest they hurt Dad’s feelings. “Well, you see that’s when your darling Pop came to my rescue. Like a hero from a story book. It was so nice and kind.”
Pop slouched in his chair, hiding a blush behind the newspaper he was pretending to read. “I wasn’t nice. I wasn’t kind. I certainly wasn’t being heroic. It was selfish. Plain and simple.”
“You see Adam, there I was, trying to reason with my executioner-“
“And you couldn’t even speak French!”
“But who should stop time, and release me from my shackles?” He gave Pop an overly affectionate smile.
“Pop, you softie!” Adam said with a laugh.
“’M not soft,” he protested, slouching lower.
“Anyway, after rescuing me from the Bastille, we go and have some wonderful wine and crepes.” Dad sighed wistfully. “Not a terrible day in the end.”
“Flattery, Angel, Flattery.” Pop got up from the table and slipped on his sunglasses. “And I’m now due at the home of the American Ambassador whose son is who everyone else thinks is still Adam so I can play my part.” He ruffled Adams hair. “You’ve got this, kid.”
“Thanks,” Adam mumbled.
Pop leaned over and planted a quick kiss on Dad’s cheek. “Catch you later, Angel.”
“Love you too,” Dad answered.
Pop blushed and then walked toward the door. “And don’t you dare open those presents til I get back! Alright?”
“Of course!” Dad replied.
“You won’t be here to stop me!” Adam snarked.
Adam didn’t need to see his Pop’s eyes to know he had just rolled them hard. He simply turned and walked out the door.
And Adam squirmed because that meant Dad’s full attention was on him. He loved his dad, really he did, but he could be so, so, so…. Dad about it.
“Adam,” Dad says in a calming voice. “Its going to be alright. Whatever happens. We have plan, after plan, after plan.”
Adam can’t look at his Dad, not right now. “I know,” Adam feels angry tears come to his eyes, and he feels like a baby which just makes the tears worse. “I can do it. I can do it, I just- what if it all goes wrong? What if I destroy the world?”
“I know, dearest, I know. It won’t come to that,” Dad said gently, laying a hand over Adam’s, he gave him a gentle squeeze. “No matter what happens, we’ll find a way.”
There’s a sudden knock at the door and Adam jumps three feet in his chair, he’s sure of it.
Brian’s voice carries through the wood of the front door, “Adam! Adam!” There’s two more sets of knocking, Pepper and Wensleydale’s, their voices joining in the shouting of Adam’s name.
Adam hesitates in his seat. Not knowing what he should do. This wasn’t one of the plans.
“Just a minute children!” Dad calls from beside him as he gets up to answer the door. Adam turned to him, his face scrunched up, confused. “I think you could use some friends right now, don’t you?”
“Did you miracle them over?”
“Please. That’s not my style, you just have good friends,” Dad scoffed. Adam felt himself smile as he let out a shy nod. And with that Dad walked to the door and gently opened it. “Hello children!”
A chorus of “Hi Mr. Fell” filled the air as the removed their shoes and walked into the home to find Adam at the table, his eyes miraculously dry. As Dad followed the Them into the kitchen. Adam gave him a wink, and Dad returned it.
“Adam! I need to tell you Happy Birthday,” Pepper said sitting at the seat across from Adam.
“I mean, don’t we all?” Brian asked, strategically sitting where Pop had left his breakfast untouched.
“Actually, I think Brian’s right,” Wensleydale answered, taking Dad’s old seat, as Dad began to clear the table. Normally that was one of Adam’s only chores but Dad was probably taking pity on him, being his birthday and all. “We all, as his best friends, need to tell him happy birthday.”
“Well,” Adam said, chewing his lip in thought. “Why don’t you all tell me happy birthday at the same time? That way no one says it first or last.”
The Them considered it before they nodded in agreement.
“On the count of three then,” Adam said with a smile. “One, two, three!”
“Happy Birthday!” The Them all shouted at the same time, pulling out homemade cards and little presents from behind their backs.
Adam couldn’t help but smile at this, despite the pit in his stomach. “Thanks guys. I- Really- Thank you.”
“Now that the official business is taken care of,” Dad said, relighting the stove. “Would any of you like Crepes? Or in Brian and Adam’s case would you like more?”
“Yes, please!” Brian said around a mouthful of crepe.
“Hmm.” Pepper hummed. “Are they…”
“They are vegetarian,” Dad answered. “I know your preferences.”
“I guess I’ll have one then. Please.”
“Wensleydale?” Dad said as he doled out more batter, which Adam was fairly certain hadn’t been there before.
“You know, I’ve actually never had a crepe before,” Wensleydale answered. “But you always have good food here, so this seems like a good time to try one.”
“Could I have another too please, Dad?”
“4 more crepes, coming up!”
After Breakfast was finished the pit in Adam’s stomach felt not quite as big as it had when he woke up, and that was good, he guessed. He was laughing and joking with his friends and it was good. Very good.
“Adam,” Wensleydale broke in, “We were thinking of going to Hogback Wood for some games, did you want to join us?”
On any other birthday, on any other day really, Adam would not have hesitated. But it was his 11th birthday, and today he was acutely aware of how he wasn’t a normal boy. “I—Dad? Could I go to the wood? I want to really, but, I understand if I can’t because we have plans later.”
Dad was in the living room reading, he looked up from his book, considering the question. “I suppose, as long as you’re back by three,” Dad hummed, “I don’t see the harm. Probably good for you to get air, release some nervous energy.”
“Thank you Mr. Fell!” Brian shouted as he finished up the last of his food.
“Wait here guys,” Adam said as he got up to go change out of his pajamas. “Thanks dad!”
As he came back down, ready to go the Them followed him toward the front door.
“By three Adam,” Dad reminded him.
“Oh trust me, I won’t forget,” Adam affirmed, confident, as they ran out the door.
Aziraphale sighed deeply as Adam and the rest of his little gang rode their bikes down the street, toward Hogback Wood and the fort the children had built there. Not for the first time in the boy’s life he felt bad for him. So nervous, on his birthday, of all days. Well, Aziraphale understood why Adam was so nervous, the fate of the world rested on his shoulders for heaven’s sake.
It was too much for a little boy. So much weight on his shoulders, and young, so, so young in the grand scheme. He was only eleven.
As Crowley pointed out one evening while slightly drunk and Adam was asleep in a basket (they hadn’t been prepared to raise a child, at all), that even God’s son got to live to be three times Adam would be before he had to face his destiny.
Aziraphale also wondered, once again if he had made the wrong decision. Not his decision eleven years ago when Crowley had come to him in the middle of the night with nothing more than an “I did something extremely fucking stupid, will you help me anyway?” as a greeting. No that decision, he had long ago decided was the right one. It had brought him too much happiness in the end.
But if this was the end. Perhaps he shouldn’t have let Adam go to wood after all.
Aziraphale shook his head. Adam was a good lad, he’d be home on time.
Adam was late. He knew he was late, but it’s not entirely his fault. Damn it. If he survived this week, Pop might just kill him for not keeping track of time. I mean, it wasn’t entirely his fault he hadn’t checked his phone for the time. I mean, he didn’t like flashing it in front of his friends since they weren’t allowed to have them yet. That would just be rude, and Dad wouldn’t want him to be rude.
Adam had checked his phone and it said 2:53. “Shit,” Adam mumbled looking at the time. “Guys!”
“That’s a gendered term!”
“Sorry,” Adam corrected himself, “Everyone, I need to be home by 3. You all can hopefully come by later tonight.” Adam didn’t have time to wait for a reply he turned and started walking as fast as he could home. Forget manners. IF he booked it, he’d just make it before the hound would show up. And Dad could protect him, and Adam could send it on its way, and they’d save the world from Armageddon.
“Wait, Adam!” Brian shouted after him. Adam could hear 3 sets of footsteps chasing after him. No, no, no! That definitely was not supposed to happen. He had had enough trouble initially making friends in school because he was the only one with two dads. Lord only knew what would happen to the few friends he had if they found out he was the antichrist and his dads were actually an angel and a demon. While he figured his friends would probably be okay, and maybe in Pop’s case not be shocked, he didn’t want to have that conversation today. “Not today. Not today.” Adam started running.
“Adam!”
“Adam, wait!”
Adam turned back briefly, and really, this should not have been counted as his fault either, but. Adam’s left foot caught a raised root in the ground. He fell to the ground, hard, his ankle making a gross cracking sound.
A string of swear words streamed through his mind as he laid on the ground, words Dad would never let him think much less say.
At this point his friends had caught up to him, Adam tried to get up, but every time he tried to put weight on the sore foot, more and more pain shot through the already incredibly painful leg. Tears started to form in his eyes. He was in so much trouble.
“Adam!” Wensleydale shouted. “Are you alright?” Wensleydale could hardly look at Adam’s foot, so it must be bad. Adam spared a glance down at his ankle, his foot was at a weird angle, with an obvious bend in his leg just over the top of his boot. Adam’s stomach turned and he thought he might throw up. Shit. This was so not good.
“His ankle’s broken! Of course he’s not Alright!” Pepper said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, and really she was right. He was in no way alright.
“I-“ Adams voice cracked around a sob. He bit his lip and forced it back down. “I need to get home.”
Brian came on Adam’s left side, helping him up and slinging Adam’s left arm over his shoulders. “We’ll get you home Adam, just take it easy.” They started walking much slower than Adam wanted to, but probably as fast as he could go. “Easy does it.”
“Yeah, we’re here to help you,” Wensleydale said with a shy smile.
“Give me your phone,” Pepper demanded. “I’ll text your dad and let him know you’re hurt and running late, so you won’t get in trouble.”
Adam wasn’t sure about the not getting into trouble but he dug in his jacket pocket for his phone. “Oh damn,” Adam swore again as he felt cracks on his screen that had not been there before he fell. Pop would not be pleased. “Damn it, damn it damn it.” He pulled the phone out and yep, the screen was cracked to all hell and he couldn’t get it to turn on. “Oh no!” Adam started to cry even more now. He was so, so, so screwed. “It’s not working.”
“Let me see it,” Wensleydale offered taking a look at it. He fiddled with the buttons as they continued to walk back toward the village.
“Pepper, could you run ahead and get my dad?” Adam asked weakly. Adam tried putting weight on his foot again and let out a quick shout.
“I would, but I think Brian needs help.” Pepper positioned herself under Adam’s left arm. That did make it easier for him to hobble toward the direction of Hogback lane.
“Wensley?”
He continued to fidget with the phone, he even smacked it a few times for good measure, but dutifully took off in the direction of Adam’s house. “On it!”
Adam has lost all sense of time as they slowly made their way back. Three o’clock is getting closer and closer, he was sure of it.
Brian and Pepper had started a conversation about pets, in an attempt to distract Adam. That made Adam’s stomach take another roll. He never should have told them he secretly really did want a pet. He hadn’t been thinking and they had just been talking about what Adam really wanted for his birthday. He knew he was skirting the line when he talked about it. But he didn’t want to lie to his friends either.
“So Adam,” Pepper said, interrupting Adam’s downward spiral. “Do you think your parents will get you a dog?”
“I dunno,” he mumbled, trying not to think about dogs or hounds or really any supernatural creatures other than his Dad and Pop at the moment.
“I think you’re a dog person,” Brian chimed in. “You need a big old dog.”
“Are you insane?” Pepper asked. “His Dad would never let him have a big, old, slobbery dog. He’d have a heart attack from all the slobber and hair.”
“That’s a good point. Plus a big dog could risk messing up the seats in his Pop’s fancy car.”
“I don’t want a big dog!” Adam shouted, probably louder than he needed to. After a silent beat Adam felt guilty. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap.”
“s’all right,” Brian said. “Given you’ve snapped your leg and all.”
Adam managed a small chuckle, but Pepper glared unamused. “Anyway,” she said quickly. “You know you could always get a small dog.”
“Or a cat!” Brian offered. “Though, in my opinion cats are unpredictable, they aren’t always very playful, my sister’s mean, hates me.”
Adam knew he shouldn’t say anything, but he’d watched his dads enough over the years to know sometimes answering questions honestly drew less suspicion. “I’d like a small dog,”
“You should name it something cool,” Brian said.
“Yeah, like, Hermione, or something,” Pepper replied. They had made it back to the village. He’d make it, he’d make it home, and Dad would be there, and he’d be safe.
“No, I think I’d just like something simple, like….” Adam knew he shouldn’t have said anything, knew it was probably well after three, but he didn’t see a dog, and well maybe... Maybe…. Adam felt like something was compelling him to talk, it bubbled up from the pit of his stomach and spilled outward, “Dog.”
Adam, until this point he didn’t really feel like he had supernatural powers, at least, not like Dad and Pop. But he felt the air turn around him at that moment and he knew. He shut his eyes tightly as tears threatened to over flow. He’d really done it now. In front of him he heard Wensleydale and Dad come rushing toward him. Behind him he heard the yapping of a small dog, he knew would respond to “Dog” until the world ended Saturday.
And it was all his fault.
Adam started to cry in earnest now. His leg hurt, he’d let his parents down, he’d named the hell hound, and the count down to the apocalypse had begun.
It was all his fault.
His dad was suddenly there, beside him. Adam wrapped his arms around his Dad’s shoulders as Dad carried him back to their home. Adam vaguely heard his Dad tell his friends he had it from there, and they could come by later tonight for some cake and ice cream.
“I don’t want cake,” Adam mumbled between sobs. “I don’t want anything ever again.”
“What’s happened has happened,” Dad whispered in his ear. “It’ll be all right. You’ll be fine. We’ll protect you.”
Adam clung to his dad tighter, praying that was true.
Crowley had felt when Adam named the dog. He wasn’t exactly surprised that it happened, but he knew Adam would be disappointed with himself, poor kid. Crowley had tried to get this kid’s martyr complex under control, let him be a little more selfish. And he knew Aziraphale hadn’t encouraged the behavior either, but kids have a mind of their own sometimes.
Aziraphale should have never let him read Harry Potter. Really amped up Adams unending need to self-sacrifice. It’s a shame Aziraphale didn’t believe Crowley’s lie about it being Satanic (he’d started that on a Christian message board years ago for a laugh-Got a commendation for it).
Crowley turned the Bentley onto Hogback lane and toward home. The sun was low in the sky, but still hadn’t begun to set. Crowley would only admit this in the safety of their little home but he actually really took to this quiet village life with Aziraphale and Adam. Yeah, he felt bad that Adam was the antichrist and had a lot on his shoulders, but they also had good memories too. Like the time he came home to Aziraphale and a 5 year old Adam practicing the gavotte, which Crowley had waited til they finished before he turned it into a Queen dance party. Because the kid needed to have some taste for things newer than 1895.
Crowley turned into the garage as he pulled in front of their house. He liked his times with Aziraphale too, once Aziraphale had gotten over the blind panic of lying to heaven, lying with a demon, and raising the antichrist. Crowley was somewhat surprised that Aziraphale not only hadn’t fallen yet, but had hidden a whole aspect of his life from the prying eyes of Heaven. Sure, Adam was partially responsible for that, his defense magicky stuff.
But Aziraphale was also such a bad liar. An absolutely terrible liar. Adam’s 7th Christmas had every present spoiled by December 15th and Crowley had had to run back out and buy additional presents in the height of Christmas shopping season, which he hated, and then he refused to tell Aziraphale what he had gotten for Adam, because not only would Aziraphale blab, again, he would also probably not approve of everything Crowley had purchased.
Crowley exited his car and made his way toward the house.
He noted the small dog in the garden out back. Of course Aziraphale had left it outside for now. Truth be told, he’d never suspect it was a hell hound, but he knew better. If the legions of hell ever saw what became their biggest, mightiest hell hound they’d be furious. Crowley just sort of giggled. The dog’s eyes glowed red. “You don’t scare me,” Crowley said with roll of his eyes. The Hell Hound growled. “Adorable.”
Crowley pushed open the back door into the kitchen. Normally, when he came home from attending to Hell’s business or whatever he’d obnoxiously shout “Honey, I’m home,” or something in that vein. But he knew neither Aziraphale nor Adam were probably in the mood. He glanced from the kitchen into the living room Adam was curled up on the couch, only his eyes and curls peeking out from under a blanket. The TV had Avengers on but neither of them seemed particularly interested. Aziraphale sat in his overstuffed chair, pretending to read, but watching Adam.
“Hey guys,” Crowley said weakly, removing his sunglasses and putting them in the same dish as his keys. He ran his fingers through Aziraphale’s hair. “Angel.”
Aziraphale looked up at him over those silly little reading glasses and gave the demon a small little smile, his blue eyes shining. “I turned on his favorite movie for him, thought it might help.” Aziraphale sighed. “It’s been a rough day here,” he whispered.
“Seems like,” Crowley walked over to the couch. “Adam, you alright?”
Adam glared up at him from his blanket cocoon before covering his head completely with blanket.
“Tweens,” Crowley hissed. He ran a hand over his face. “Adam come on out, I saw the dog, it’s the best case in this scenario.” Crowley sat on the floor in front of Adam. “I wanna hear what happened.”
“He broke his ankle earlier,” Aziraphale said getting up from his chair when Adam said nothing.
Crowley’s head whipped around. “What?” He turned back to face Adam. “Are you okay?”
Adam pulled the blanket down to reveal his face. “It’s better now. Dad fixed it.”
“Figured,” Crowley said with a shrug. “But that’s still good. Right? That’s good?”
Adam’s face twitched into a threat of a smile, “Yeah, it’s good, well better now. It really hurt at the time. I couldn’t put any weight on it. The foot was facing the wrong way and everything.”
Crowley’s mouth opened in astonishment. Sure, he’d seen broken bones before, but no one had described it to him, and it’s not like it had happened to him before. “That’s fascinating.”
“I don’t think that’s how you’re supposed to react to your son breaking his leg,” Aziraphale snarked from the kitchen.
“Ohh look at me, Mr. I’ve-actually-read-parenting-books,” He was egging Aziraphale on unfairly, but their more playful spats usually cheered Adam up, and Aziraphale couldn’t hold that against him. Adam’s smile grew by a fraction. He’d lord that over Aziraphale if the angel decided to take real offense. “He thinks he’s soooo fancy.”
Adam giggled in spite of himself. “Fancy enough to get himself discorporated in the French Revolution?”
Over Crowley’s laughter he could just hear Aziraphale moan, “You never should have told him that story.” Aziraphale walked back into the living room with a tray with two wine glasses and a cup of cocoa for Adam. “I’ll never hear the end of it now.” He placed the tray down on the coffee table next to Crowley.
Adam finally sat up and reached for the cocoa.
Crowley looked over his shoulder and caught Aziraphale’s eye. He patted the floor next to him. Aziraphale hesitated, and Crowley jerked his head, motioning to the vacant floor next to him, now. Aziraphale sighed, resigned and took a seat next to Crowley on the floor in front of Adam. Aziraphale could put aside propriety for Adam, and sometimes Crowley.
Crowley passed Aziraphale a wine glass as he took one for himself.
Adam sipped his cocoa quieter than Crowley had ever seen the boy, who was usually a bit of a chatter box. Crowley sighed. “You know Adam, we knew this was likely. Turning away the Hound was a gamble.”
“Dad gave me this speech earlier, and it didn’t work then either,” Adam sulked over the rim of his mug.
“Yes, but Adam, dearest that doesn’t make it less true,” Aziraphale urged.
“Your dad is right,” Crowley said. “Plans four on all have you named the dog contingencies.”
“Yeah but none of the plans account for vairables like, tripping over roots or other stupid human shit,” Adam snaps back. Before either Aziraphale or he can say anything, Adam looks sheepish. “Sorry, sorry, I shouldn’t swear, I know.” Adam sighed, adjusting the mug in his hands. “Its-It’s been a long day.”
“It’s alright, Adam,” Aziraphale said with a wave of his hand. “Everything is a little tense right now.”
“Yeah,” Crowley added, as he rests his hand over Aziraphale’s. An idea crossed his mind just then. “Would you like a sip of wine? Calm your nerves?” Crowley offered the glass to Adam.
Adam looked curious and tentatively reached a hand out, but Aziraphale interrupted, “No, No that’s not age appropriate.”
“Just a sip, angel!” Aziraphale glared. “Come on, if he was Catholic he’d be getting a swallow a week, and risk viral infection.”
“No, and that’s final.”
“Temptation thwarted,” Adam mumbled laying back against the sofa.
Crowley rolled his eyes and mouthed “Later” to Adam. Adam grinned.
“I do have an idea that might be just as good,” Aziraphale offered.
“Try me,” Crowley dared Aziraphale.
“Not for you, you serpent,” Aziraphale said with no real bite to it. “For Adam.” Crowley glanced at Adam’s face, who looked just as confused. “I see a large stack of presents over there still unopened, and I know I have a cake in the dining room, if you’re feeling up to it you could invite the gang over.”
“W-Would that be alright?” Adam asked, seemingly afraid of his own shadow.
Crowley smiled. “More than.”
Adam went to grab his phone off the coffee table, and then hesitated. “Oh, umm. When I fell, it wasn’t only my ankle that broke.” Adam timidly handed Crowley a phone that looked like it had been through the war. Screen shattered, more than a little bent, and deader than a doornail.
Ordinarily, Crowley would have pointed out that Adam had only had the phone in his possession since Christmas and he needs to take better care of his things if he wants them to last for any length of time. He’d given Adam the same talking to before and he hoped to give it to him again someday. The Bentley speech he heard Adam refer to it as.
But Adam didn’t need a dressing down today. He was doing that to himself now.
“Wait, wait a damn minute here, why when Dad was fixing your leg didn’t you have him fix your bloody phone?” Crowley asked instead.
“Dad was here and, you’re better with tech,” Adam said as it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Crowley and Aziraphale exchanged looks, trying to figure out if they should be offended or pleased.
“Please fix my phone, I can invite them all over in like two seconds, if they’re by their tablets.”
“Fine, fine, you’ve twisted my arm,” Crowley muttered under his breath.
Adam had changed into his new pajamas. The Hozier shirt Pop had gotten him and some very soft fuzzy tartan pajama bottoms from Dad. Adam was really happy with all of his gifts. And his birthday wasn’t all bad. He still had his dads who loved him. He still had his friends who didn’t know anything.
Armageddon was still coming by Saturday though.
Adam walked out of his bedroom and down the hall to where Dad and Pop kept a bedroom for themselves. Dad wasn’t one much for sleeping usually, but he’d spend the nights in there with Pop, just the same.
Dog followed him down the hall. Pop had let the dog in, saying it would cause less suspicion if they let the dog in. “And the dog could probably scratch through the door anyway, if it wanted.” Pop had stated while he filled up a second glass of wine before the party. Adam was glad, really, he was a cute dog, and didn’t seem particularly evil. No more evil than Pop anyway.
Adam knocked on the door to their room gently. He’d entered without knocking before, and to be honest he wished he hadn’t. He saw things he wished he’d never see, ever, again. And to be honest, he wasn’t entirely sure if purely human bodies could bend that way. Not that it bore thinking about.
One of them, he wasn’t sure which, miracled the door open. Pop was playing with his iPad and Dad was in cozy light khaki colored plaid pajamas and his house coat.
“Adam, what can we do for you,” Pop asked barely glancing up from whatever game he was playing.
“Yes is everything alright? Is your leg still bothering you?” Dad asked, worried, for once, the proper amount, just not about the right thing.
“Or is it perhaps, something else?” Pop Said finally sitting up more, the covers pooling over his lap, his bare chest exposed.
Adam suddenly felt very small. Like how felt the way he did when he first started primary school and the other kids started asking rude questions about him being adopted and having two dads. “Can I lay down with you guys, just for a little bit?”
Dad and Pop looked at each other briefly before scooting toward the edges of the bed to make room for him in the middle. Dog followed.
“No dogs on this bed,” Dad stated, placing the book he was reading on the side table.
“That’s fine,” Adam turned to Dog. “Dog, lay down.”
Dog obediently laid on the rug at the foot of the bed.
“Neat trick, that,” Pop observed. Adam crawled from the foot of the bed, shuffling on his knees to the gap between his parents before also sitting with his back resting on the headboard.
“I suppose it would be foolish to ask what’s bothering you,” Dad said, gently.
“Yeah, err, sorry, Dad,” Adam mumbled.
Pop suddenly handed him a glass of milk. “We get it,” Pop said dismissively. “Er well we don’t ‘get’ it exactly. Not antichrists. But- err.”
“What I think Pop is trying to say, is what we’ve always told you,” Dad’s arm wrapped around Adam’s shoulders, slightly jostling the milk as he brought it up to his mouth. “No matter what happens, we’ll be with you, and together we will do all we can to prevent whatever’s coming.”
“Yeah, we’re on our own side, the three of us,” Pop said with a firm nod.
“Our own side,” Adam repeated. He knew this was true, but he was glad to be hearing it again. He also knew that he should get up and go back to his room, but… He sipped his milk for courage. “Umm, could I, maybe sleep here? Tonight? I just-“ Adam took a deep breath, trying not to cry for the third time today. “I’d just feel better, safer, with you here.”
“Who could say no to that?” Dad said gently. As Adam finished his milk Dad miracled away the glass. “Now come on, let’s all try to get some sleep. We have a lot of work still to do, and we’ll all be in our best shape.”
“Really Angel?” Pop hissed.
“It’s fine Pop, he’s right.” Adam wriggled himself under the covers and made himself comfortable. “That’ why I wanted to be in here really, figured it was the only way I’d get any sleep.” Adam yawned. “Barely slept at all last night.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Dad said also attempting to get into a sleeping position, though he wasn’t as practiced as the other two members of the family at it. “We’re getting sleep now. And that’s an order.”
“Right then, you heard the boss,” Pop said, his voice tinged with sarcasm. He more slithered his lower body under the covers and laid on his stomach. Suddenly, with a change in the air, Pop’s dark wings unfurled, covering the three of them. “Sleep for everyone.”
Some good nights were exchanged and then Adam did finally manage to drift off, feeling safe between the two creatures between heaven, hell and earth who loved him most.