Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It had been just under four years since Anthony, Aziraphale, and Warlock Crowley-Fell had moved to Tadfield. Warlock was currently hiding in the living room of Eden Cottage, doing their damndest to eavesdrop on their dads’ conversation, in order to spill details about their upcoming “surprise” birthday party to Adam, the other victim of said scheme. They couldn’t really make anything out– it sounded like Dad and Pop were doing that thing where they have the same argument for the hundredth time for no good reason, but that’s what they’d thought last night, too, and then Adam had said that Pop had called his mom to talk about the party, so…

Warlock crept a bit closer to the kitchen door, their back pressed up against the wall, practically holding their breath to keep from being heard. If Dad saw them like this, they’d never hear the end of it, but that was okay. Dad wasn’t gonna see.

They were just leaning closer, almost close enough to actually make out individual words, when there was a sudden, sharp knock at the door.

Warlock leapt back from the kitchen and sprinted towards the front door before either of their dads could spot them, calling out, “I’ve got it!”

“You’d better not have just been eavesdropping,” Dad called back, poking his head out of the kitchen in order to raise an eyebrow at Warlock.

“Never,” Warlock promised, grabbing the door handle and yanking it open. “What kind of a kid do you think I…?” Then they turned to face the knocker, and their stomach dropped out of their body.

“TJ!” Harriet Dowling cried, leaping forwards and throwing her arms around Warlock. “Thank God, thank God, you’re okay! Oh, I was so worried about you–”

“Get off, get off!” Warlock yelped, shoving their birth mom away and taking a few stumbling steps back. “Don’t fucking touch me! You don’t get to touch me!”

“Warlock, dear, what’s wrong?” It was Pop’s voice, coming closer, and then both of Warlock’s fathers were there, standing on either side of them.

“Oh, shit,” Dad breathed softly.

Harriet stared at them, her brow furrowed in confusion. “Who are you?”

“I know her,” Warlock said to their dads. “What do you want?”

Harriet blinked, her brow furrowing further. “TJ, I’m here to take you home.”

Warlock hadn’t thought their stomach could drop any further, but apparently, they were wrong. “What?”

“I’m terribly sorry, but… who are you?” Pop asked.

Harriet drew herself up to her full height and glared at Pop and Dad in turn. “I am Thaddeus’s mother.”

“No,” Warlock said, the word coming out more strangled than they’d meant it to. “No, you’re not. You’re not my mom. You haven’t been my mom in years.”

Harriet sighed. “I was looking–”

“You just let him kick me out!” Warlock shouted. He had grown in the past four years, and was now taller she was, more than tall enough to look her in the eye in a way he’d never been able to before. “You let him say all that– all that rubbish, and then he kicked me out, and you didn’t say a goddamn thing to protect me! You just let him–”

“Honey, I’m not with your father anymore,” Harriet said. “We’re divorced now. I have a new place, back in London, I know you liked it better there than in the States–”

“Stop,” Warlock said, shaking their head. “Just stop. I’m not going with you. I am home. I’m home here, with people who actually love me, people who know what my name is.” They spun on their heel and stormed off, ignoring Harriet’s shouts, ignoring their dads’ concerned looks, ignoring everything in favor of storming upstairs and slamming their bedroom door behind them.

Their phone was lying on their pillows, a message from Adam lighting up the lockscreen.

Warlock tossed that aside, too, and collapsed onto their bed, burying their face in the pillow. They could hear voices, still, from downstairs, three of them, but they didn’t care what they were saying.

Their mom had found them. She had actually left their bio-dad, had finally decided that her principles were worth more than the money, and then she’d somehow tracked Warlock down, even with their new name and everything, and found them, and tried to take them away.

To find them, she’d had to have known about the name change. No one called them TJ anymore. No one here, apart from Dad and Pop, even knew they’d ever been called TJ, which meant that their mom had seen their new name somewhere, somehow, and known who it was, remembered when they’d told her about it. Remembered what she’d said in response, and chosen, just now, not to use it…

“Typical,” they grumbled, shifting on the bed in order to curl up into a little ball. “Of course she didn’t want to say my real name. Why would she? Why would she ever? She let him kick me out in the first place. She would have let me live in London, all by myself, until now. Why would she care what name I actually go by? Why would she care about what I want? How I feel? She never has before.”

Warlock buried their face more firmly in their pillows, hugging their legs to their chest, until the buzzing of their phone from their nightstand got loud enough that they couldn’t really ignore it anymore.

With a quiet groan, Warlock rolled over, picked the phone up, and answered it with a sharp, “What?”

“Warlock!” Adam’s voice was bright and cheerful, like it tended to be. “I know it’s only been a couple minutes, but my mum says I’m supposed to go over to your place for dinner soon, and so I thought that if we wanted to compare notes without anyone else hearing we should–”

“Adam, my mom is here,” Warlock said quietly, sitting up and trying to look out the window without being obvious about it. “Or, well. She was here.”

Adam fell silent, then asked quietly, “You mean… your birth mum?”

“The one and only,” Warlock said, grimacing. “I told her to bugger off.”

“Good for you,” Adam said vehemently. “The only sort of parents that are worth anything are the sort of parents who care about you, doesn’t matter whether they’re technically related to you or not.”

“I know, I know,” Warlock said. “I just… she said she wanted to bring me home with her.”

“But she can’t,” Adam said. “Can she? Aren’t your dads your legal parents now?”

“Yeah, they are,” Warlock said. “I mean… I was eleven when it all happened, I didn’t know what he was talking about really, but I think my dad said he got me emancipated? I don’t think she has a leg to stand on. But… she knows where we live, now. And I know she doesn’t like gay people any more than the bio-dad did, not really.”

“Shit,” Adam said quietly. “That… that sucks, War.”

“I know,” they muttered, flopping onto their back with a sigh. “It does suck. And I dunno what to do.”

“Is she gone now?” Adam asked.

Warlock sat up again, this time actually moving far enough to look out the window. There was no sign of Harriet outside, and they couldn’t hear her voice anymore, either. “Think so. My dads probably got rid of her.”

“Good,” Adam said. “I reckon the best thing to do for now is to talk to your dads, and then have dinner with all of us later. She can’t touch you, and you don’t have to talk to her if you don’t want to.”

“You’re right,” Warlock said, picking absently at a thread on their comforter. “I shouldn’t worry about it. She’s gone, now. Thanks, Adam.”

“No problem,” Adam said. “By the way, I think I found out something about the party? I can tell you later, if you like.”

“Warlock.” It was Dad’s voice, low and worried, from just outside Warlock’s door. “You okay in there, kiddo?”

“Later sounds good,” Warlock said to Adam. “Gotta go now, my dad wants to talk.”

“See you,” Adam said as Warlock hung up.

They sighed, staring down at the phone for a moment, before looking back up to their door and calling out, “I’m okay. If you wanna come in, you can.”

The door swung open slowly, revealing just Dad standing there.

“No Pop?” Warlock asked.

“He’s finishing up with dinner,” Dad said, stepping carefully inside the room and then sauntering over to the bed to sit down next to Warlock. “You wanna talk about it?”

Warlock shrugged. “I mean. I don’t know how much there is to talk about? I just… I never thought I’d see her again.”

“I know,” Dad said quietly.

“What’d she say to you? After I left?”

Dad grimaced. “Nothing that I’m gonna repeat to you.”

Warlock sighed. “I lived with her for eleven years, Dad. I lived with my bio-dad for eleven years. I’ve heard it before. I don’t care.”

“I do,” Dad said, setting a gentle hand on Warlock’s shoulder. “And I’m not gonna repeat it.”

“What was the general gist, then?” Warlock asked. “Feels like I deserve to know.”

Dad sighed. “Warlock…”

“I want to know, Dad,” Warlock said. “She wants to take me away with her. She’s gonna try again, I know she is. She’s stubborn. That’s the kind of thing she’d do. I need to know what to expect from her.”

Dad sighed again, then squeezed Warlock’s shoulder. “Some transphobic nonsense that you’ve gotten enough of and really don’t need to hear, and then some homophobic nonsense about your Pop and I corrupting the youth or whatever. Nothing quite so explicitly bad as what your bio-dad’s been saying in the press recently, but I’m not sure how much that means.”

“Not much,” Warlock said. “I just… she said she left him. Why would she bother, at this point? She hasn’t changed. Nothing has changed. Even before I came out, she never even… she didn’t care about me! She never cared about me, neither of them did. I was a status symbol to my dad and a trophy to her. She’s never cared about me before. Why does she suddenly care now?”

Dad’s hand shifted so that his arm was wrapped around Warlock’s shoulders, pulling them close. “I don’t know. But I promise you, Warlock, whatever bullshit she tries to pull, your Pop and I will be here with you. No matter what.”

“I know,” Warlock said, turning their head to press their face into their dad’s shoulder. “Thanks, Dad.”

“We love you, kiddo,” Dad said, his voice as gentle as Warlock had ever heard it.

“Love you, too,” Warlock mumbled back.

They sat there for a long, long moment, just breathing, while Warlock tried desperately not to think about anything. Not their mom, not their bio-dad, not even the stupid surprise party.

Eventually, though, Dad straightened up, rubbing Warlock’s shoulder for a moment longer before letting go. “You gonna be okay for dinner tonight?”

Warlock nodded. “Adam called a minute ago, so I already told him, and I think I’m gonna tell the rest of the Them tonight, too. Y’know, just in case she comes looking for me while we’re out.”

“Smart,” Dad said. “You and Adam have been– wait. Wait a minute. Why was Adam calling you? You were eavesdropping!”

“Hey, you guys are being shady as hell right now!” Warlock protested with a grin.

“Well, joke’s on you, we were just talking about Pop’s incomprehensible organisation earlier,” Dad said, grinning back. “You’re welcome to report that back to your little conspiracy.”

“Useless, both of you,” Warlock said, rolling their eyes. “You have that argument every month.”

“It’s a good argument,” Dad said, shrugging. “Besides, it’s not arguing if you’re both having fun.”

“No, no, that’s what makes it arguing,” said Warlock. “An argument is when everyone has fun, a fight is when everyone’s actually mad.”

“Huh. Clever. You know, I think the Tadfield Times is looking for interns.”

Warlock gagged. “I don’t wanna write. That’s dumb.”

“Hey, your Pop writes.”

“Exactly. So now I never, ever can. You know?”

Dad grimaced. “I do. Guess that means it’s too late to teach you the fine art of gardening, isn’t it?”

“Fine, but only if I get to teach Pop more memes.”

“Absolutely not. It took us months to recover from yeet,” Dad said.

Warlock laughed, and Dad grinned back at them, then seemed to… soften, somewhat.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked quietly.

Warlock sighed. “I don’t know yet. I guess… we’ll see.”

“If you do need to talk… I mean, you know I get it,” Dad said, shrugging. “And your Pop’s a good listener. And I’m sure we could finagle our way into Amy’s schedule somehow, if you want.”

“I know,” Warlock said, bumping their shoulder gently against their dad’s. “I’ll figure it out.”

“You will,” Dad said. It sounded like a promise.

Then he stood up, jerking his head towards the door. “We should probably go make sure your Pop doesn’t put the flour in the fridge or something. And keep you from your bloody eavesdropping.”

Warlock snorted, following their dad downstairs. Sure enough, Pop was in the kitchen, bustling about. He stopped when he saw Warlock, hurrying over to them.

“Are you all right, my dear?” he asked gently, not quite laying one of his hands on Warlock’s shoulder, but clearly moments away from doing so should they show any sign of needing it.

“I… I’ll be okay,” Warlock said. “Not sure yet how I am right now, but I’m not so bad I can’t help with dinner, and Dad doesn’t want me to eavesdrop anymore.”

Pop smiled warmly, glancing over at Dad before looking back at Warlock. “Well, I doubt you’d have learnt anything had you been successful. I was just telling your father that he isn’t allowed into the spice cabinet any longer until he starts doing the cooking more often.”

“The way you organise it is completely incomprehensible! You can’t find anything in there!” Dad protested.

“I very much can,” Pop said with a sniff. “And when you start doing something more complex than ordering delivery on your nights, you can have a say in how the spice rack is organised. Honestly, I’ve no idea how you managed so long on your own.”

“Cooking is overrated,” Dad said with a shrug. “Instant noodles exist for a reason.”

“Warlock, pack your things. I simply cannot live with a man who says such things.”

“Hey, Warlock’s a teenager. They’re going to university in a few years. They’ll be team instant noodles soon enough.”

“Love, I lived on military food for five years, and I never once stooped to being ‘team instant noodles’,” Pop said.

“Well, that’s because you’re you,” Dad said. “No fair comparing anyone else.”

“I’d say you more than measure up,” Pop said gently. “Even if you are culinarily challenged.”

“You two are gross,” Warlock said with a grin.

“Thank you, thank you, we’ll be here all week,” Dad said, sketching out a mock bow.

“Oh, hush,” Pop said, knocking Dad with his hip.

Warlock laughed, basking in the warmth of the kitchen, the smell of home-cooked food, the air of relaxation. The love of their little family. They had found this, had chosen this, all on their own. It didn’t matter what stupid Harriet Dowling thought of them all. Warlock was happy. And they were never gonna leave.

###

The next day, Warlock woke up a little later than usual, then lay there for a few moments, staring up at the ceiling. They hadn’t had any nightmares last night, at least not that they could remember, which was a bit of a surprise, honestly. Not that they were complaining.

Their phone was lit up with texts from the rest of the Them, asking after them, and Warlock typed out one answer to all their individual messages and sent it in the group chat.

I was thinking we could go hang in hogback wood for a while today, Adam said. It’s been a while

Pepper’s reply was almost instantaneous. im down

Brian sent a thumbs up emoji.

Actually, that sounds like a very good idea, Wensley said.

Warlock snorted at that, then typed out, meet you there as soon as i can get away from my dads. no telling what they’ll be like today

When they finally made their way downstairs, as expected, Dad and Pop were already up and sitting in the kitchen, three plates of pancakes in front of them and matching vaguely-nervous looks on their faces. They both startled as Warlock approached, glancing briefly at each other before looking back at them.

Warlock sat down in front of the third plate, glancing between the two of them. “What’s up?”

“Nothing for you to bother yourself with, love,” Pop said softly, passing Warlock the butter and syrup without their having to ask. “Are you all right?”

Warlock sighed. “Better than I thought I’d be, honestly. But… yeah. It’s… yeah.”

“Are you going out today?” Dad asked.

“We were all gonna go to Hogback Wood,” said Warlock.

Pop nodded, a frown flitting across his face for a brief second before he smoothed it out again. “Just… do be careful, my dear.”

“I will be,” Warlock said. “I’ll have my phone the whole time. And it’s not like the others are gonna let anything happen.”

“No, I suppose they wouldn’t,” Pop said.

“Keep in touch,” Dad said. “And… just… y’know…”

“My mom might come up to me and either start spewing homophobic garbage or try to snatch me away? Yeah, I know. I’ll be careful. You know that. And I don’t think Pepper’s gonna let me go without a fight.”

“I would hate to end up on Pepper’s bad side,” Dad conceded. “We love you, kiddo.”

“I know,” Warlock said. “I love you, too.”

The rest of breakfast passed in relative silence, and twenty minutes later, Warlock was abandoning their bike at the edge of the path and skidding down the slope into the old hideout in Hogback Wood.

“Warlock!” Pepper said, jumping to her feet and grinning at them as they straightened back up and brushed a couple of leaves off their leggings and skirt. “Took you long enough.”

“Yeah, well, you know how my dads get,” Warlock said, shrugging. “I, uh. I should probably warn you that my mom might try to start something…”

“If she starts shit, we’ll finish it,” Brian promised.

“Are you actually feeling okay?” Wensley asked.

“Yeah,” Warlock said, shrugging. “I mean… it’s weird, but it’s not any weirder than when we first got here, y’know? I’m okay.”

“You sure?” Adam asked.

Warlock nodded, then said, “So, what‘s the plan for today?”

###

Aziraphale sat in Eden Cottage, reading. Today was his day off from the bakery, and Crowley was planning to leave the garden shop early today so that they could look at an online auction together– Aziraphale hated to pull Crowley away from his work, but he still wasn’t entirely confident in areas where technology and money overlapped, and Crowley had sworn up and down that he was happy to pass the shop off to Newt for a few hours in order to spend more time with his husband.

Husband. Oh, even just thinking that word still made Aziraphale beam. They’d been married for more than two and a half years, now, and Aziraphale swore that he grew happier every day, which he frankly hadn’t even thought possible.

There was a sound, from the front of the cottage, and Aziraphale set his book aside, biting back his smile. It seemed as though Crowley was home.

“My dear,” he said, making his way to the door to open it, “I do hope you weren’t planning on knocking on your own–”

It wasn’t Crowley.

“Where is my son?” Harriet demanded, glaring at Aziraphale.

Aziraphale blinked, then took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. “I’m afraid that you don’t have a son. You did give birth to a child nearly fifteen years ago, but seeing as you then kicked them out once they turned out not to be what you expected, you have rather lost the right to speak to them unless you do some serious soul-searching first, which your remarks yesterday seem to indicate a severe lack of.”

“Oh, come on,” Harriet said, rolling her eyes and folding her arms. “You can’t just take him away from me! He’s my son.”

“Might I remind you that it was you and your husband who kicked them out?” Aziraphale asked coldly. “Who told them that they were not welcome in your home unless they gave up, oh, what was it… ‘that gay gender bullshit’?”

Harriet sighed. “Listen. Thad– my ex– he was… stupid. Is stupid. And he was– I– it’s complicated. Was complicated. But I’m not with him anymore.”

Aziraphale softened slightly at that, quite against his will. “Well. I am glad to hear that. He seems to be a rather odious man.”

Harriet huffed out a quiet sort of half-laugh. “Yeah. So, now that he’s gone, he’s back in America, I can take TJ back, right?”

And at that, Aziraphale’s frown returned full-force. “Warlock.”

“What?”

“Their name is Warlock,” Aziraphale said. “Legally, as a matter of fact, though it would still be true even if it wasn’t on any sort of legal documentation at all. Their name is Warlock. Not any of the other myriad names or nicknames you’ve come up with for them. And they aren’t your son. Even if you had never hurt them as you did, even if they had stayed with you, they still wouldn’t be your son. Your child, perhaps, if you had been a bit braver when it counted.”

“Oh, come on! That was a stupid nickname he came up with when he was six! You can’t actually expect me to call him that for the rest of his life!”

“I do expect that,” said Aziraphale coldly. “And I expect you to use their correct pronouns, as well. Warlock chose their name, and chose it well, if I may say so. They seem to have no problem with using it for as far into the future as they choose to do so, nor do any of their friends, teachers, or adoptive relatives. If you cannot do the same–”

“I can take you to court, you know,” snapped Harriet. “Kidnapping and child trafficking. How many other little kids have you done this to?”

Aziraphale bristled. “Now, see here–”

“Oi! Just what the hell d’you think you’re doing here?”

Aziraphale looked over Harriet’s shoulder to see Crowley, striding down the path with a scowl on his face.

“I’m going to go get the police involved,” Harriet said. “I will get my son back. You monsters can’t have him.”

“You don’t have a son,” Crowley said, pushing past her to stand beside Aziraphale. “Never did. The kid you gave birth to is staying here. You’re the one who didn’t want them.”

Aziraphale bit back a shudder at the mention of police, wrapping an arm around his husband’s waist and holding him close. “Ms. Dowling– or, have you changed it? I’m afraid I don’t know.”

“Carter,” Harriet said, before snapping her mouth shut again and glaring. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Ms. Carter, I’m sure that you mean well, and that you do care for Warlock, in one way or another, but… they are happy here. I thought that they made their feelings as to your further involvement in their life quite plain last night,” Aziraphale said, trying to keep his voice as calm and gentle as possible, given the tension he could feel building in his chest.

“While you both were standing right there,” Harriet said. “He could have been lying.”

“They weren’t lying,” Crowley said, his voice cold and sharp. “I can promise you that.”

“Look, where is he?” Harriet demanded, taking a step closer, as though she meant to push past Aziraphale and Crowley and storm the cottage. “Just let me talk to him–”

“Them!” Crowley snapped. “Their name is Warlock, and they use they/them pronouns, for fuck’s sake. It isn’t that bloody difficult. If you do actually give half a shit about them, you can make the bloody effort to call them by their proper pronouns!”

“Warlock is not here right now,” said Aziraphale. “And, no, we won’t be telling you where they are at the moment, not without their consent. I’m afraid that it would probably be better for everyone if you were to leave, Ms. Carter.”

“I am not leaving without my son,” Harriet growled.

“They are not your son,” Crowley said, his voice low and quiet and dangerous in the way that it only got when he was absolutely furious. “Not only are they not a boy, you gave up any claim on them when you kicked them out.”

“I didn’t kick him out!” Harriet protested. “Thaddeus did!”

“And what did you do to stop him?” Crowley demanded. “Did you actually do anything? Or did you just sit there and let it happened? What about before then, hm? You’re here, now, demanding to speak with them. How often did that happen, really, before they left? Honestly? How much time did you bother to spend with them, back then, and how much did you leave to your hired staff because you couldn’t be arsed to raise a kid?”

“Now, listen here,” Harriet scowled, pointing at Crowley.

“No,” Crowley said. “You listen, Carter. Do you have any idea how much you hurt them? How much damage you did?” He shook his head. “I know you don’t. You sort never do. D’you wanna know how Aziraphale and I met Warlock? They ran away from the home, months before you kicked them out. It was one in the morning, in the middle of London, and they ran off, made it all the way to Soho, before stumbling into Aziraphale’s old bookshop. Do you know how bloody lucky they were, that it was me and Aziraphale that they found, instead of someone else? Do you have any idea what could have happened to them in over the past four years? An underage, transgender kid like them? They would have been lucky to be alive by the time you bothered to pretend to care about them again.”

Harriet’s face had gone rather pale. “I… I didn’t think…”

“No. You didn’t think,” Crowley said. “Of course you didn’t. You’ve never had to go through it, and, honestly? I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Take it from someone with experience. You’ve never had to worry about any of what comes after that. You’re lucky. But Warlock? They very nearly weren’t. It was a bloody miracle that Aziraphale and I were able to take them in, bring them out here where they could grow up safe. There was a time, near the beginning, where that almost didn’t seem possible. And, of course, neither of us regret it for a moment, because Warlock is our kid, and we love them so bloody much, but… I won’t lie to you, I’ve had nights where I’ve wondered what might have happened to them if Aziraphale and I had failed. There are statistics online, I’m sure you can look them up. And you would have left them to that, for four fucking years.”

There were tears building in Harriet’s eyes, and Aziraphale tugged Crowley a little bit closer to himself, biting his lip. She needed to hear this, if she wanted to have any hope of understanding. He wasn’t about to interrupt.

Crowley wasn’t finished, not yet. “And, honestly, even though they had us, even though they never had to go through what we did? Your kicking them out still broke them.”

“I didn’t… Thaddeus…” Harriet breathed.

“No,” Crowley said. “You aren’t innocent in this. Just because you didn’t say the words, doesn’t mean you didn’t do it.”

“I understand how it can be,” Aziraphale added softly, “to feel trapped in a situation like that. But… your silence, your complicity, hurt them just as badly as Mr. Dowling’s words did.”

“They came to us, afterwards. On their eleventh birthday. Do you have any idea how excited they were for that party? Do you have even the faintest clue how hopeful they were about telling you and your idiot ex the truth?”

“I… I didn’t realise…”

“Of course you didn’t,” Crowley said. “Never did pay much attention to them, did you, even when they were around. And then, what you lot did… They ran, after. Sprinted, in the rain, to Soho. Got there, and they were crying their eyes out, saying that you didn’t love them, that you never had.”

“I do!” Harriet protested. “I do love them– him– whatever!”

“Do you?” Aziraphale asked. “Or do you love the version of them that you’ve built up in your head? Do you love Thaddeus Dowling Junior, or do you love Warlock? Because only one of those people exists, and if you don’t love them for who they truly are, then how can you possibly ask to take them away from the people who do?”

“You still have a lot of work to do before they can forgive you,” Crowley said. “You left scars on them, deep ones, and even if you do the work, they don’t owe you shit at this point.”

“I don’t– they’re just a kid,” Harriet said. “How– I’m his mom.”

“You gave birth to them,” Aziraphale said. “And– forgive me if I’m being presumptuous here, but it seems rather as though you didn’t entirely want to do so, given how little you seem to have been involved in their early development.”

Harriet blinked, biting her lip, and Aziraphale knew that he’d gotten it right.

“We want them here,” he said, keeping his voice as gentle as he could manage. “And they want to be here. Don’t force both of you into a situation that neither wants to be in. You have both been through enough.”

“I…” Harriet said, shaking her head slightly. “Can I– can I just talk to him? Them? Can I– I have to talk to them.”

“No, you don’t. They don’t owe you anything,” Crowley pointed out. “Like I said. You’ve still got a lot of work to do.”

“Give us your mobile number,” Aziraphale said. “We’ll ask them how they feel about speaking to you, and let you know what they say.”

Harriet nodded, still looking utterly shell-shocked. “Um. Uh. Do you–”

“I’ve got it,” Crowley said, pulling his mobile out of his pocket and holding it out to Harriet.

She typed her telephone number into the device before handing it back shakily. “Is he… is he really happy here? Is he okay?”

“They,” Aziraphale corrected. “And yes.”

“No thanks to you, but… yeah,” Crowley said. “They are.”

Harriet nodded again, a little manically. “And he– they– safe? You’re not–”

“For future reference, if your ex-husband believed a stereotype about a type of person, chances are it isn’t true,” Aziraphale said, a little more sharply than he meant to. “They are safe here. Completely and utterly. And we wouldn’t let them come to any harm, not if there was a single thing on Earth that either of us could do to prevent it.”

“This is probably one of the safest places for them to be,” Crowley promised.

Harriet nodded, yet again. “I, uh. Let me… tell me what he says. What they says. Tell me… I– and… and tell them… I didn’t know. I thought it was just– I didn’t know. I– I’m sorry.”

Crowley flinched. It was small enough that, had Aziraphale not been entirely pressed up against him, had he not known his husband quite as well as he did, he likely wouldn’t have noticed it.

“We’ll tell them,” Aziraphale promised. “Now… you have some things to research, I believe? If you’d like, I know of some resources that might be of use to you. I could send them to your mobile number.”

“Yeah,” Harriet said, backing away slowly. “I– yeah. Please. I– I’m sorry.”

And then she was gone, very nearly sprinting off down the road.

The moment she was out of view, Aziraphale tugged Crowley into the cottage, closing the door carefully behind them.

“My dear–” he said.

“She just– no idea,” Crowley said. “I didn’t know that there were people left that had– how could she not– four years!”

“I know,” Aziraphale said, leading his husband over to the sofa and moving the book he’d abandoned earlier out of the way so that they could both sit, pressed up against one another. “I know, my love.”

“And now–! Fuck. Just– just like that. She apologises just like that. Like it was nothing. Like she’d– she’d gotten dirt on that toy of theirs, not like– I’m sorry, and that’s it, like…”

“We’ll ask Warlock what they want to do,” Aziraphale said softly, knowing full well that Crowley’s outburst was only partly to do with Warlock.

“Yeah,” Crowley said, deflating slightly and slumping against Aziraphale’s side. “Yeah, we… yeah.”

“You know how much I love you, my dearest,” Aziraphale said softly. “And… and, I know that it means very little coming from me, but I am sorry.”

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for.”

“I’m not apologizing, that would… That wasn’t what I meant. I’m sorry that… that you never got any apologies to speak of. That…”

“It was almost thirty years ago,” Crowley said. “S’not like it matters much, now.”

Aziraphale hummed softly, disbelieving, and wrapped his arms around his husband.

Crowley sank into the embrace, burying his face in Aziraphale’s shoulder, clutching him close. “Fuck, angel. I just… m’sorry.”

“Oh, now, don’t you start,” Aziraphale said, huffing out a quiet laugh. “I love you, my dearest. My darling, my love. More than anything. I love you.”

“Love you, too, angel,” Crowley muttered, his voice slightly muffled by his position.

They sat there for a long moment, holding each other close, until Crowley sat up, sucking in a shaky breath and smiling faintly. “Think we’re late for your auction.”

“Oh, that hardly matters,” Aziraphale said. “Though, I suppose I wouldn’t object to seeing if there’s anything left that’s worth the effort. If you wouldn’t mind?”

“Mind? ‘Course I don’t mind,” Crowley said, standing up to go fetch his laptop. “You stay right there, angel.”

"Ah… could I borrow your mobile, while you fetch the computer? I do have some resources that I'd like to send to… well. And she gave you her contact information."

"Yeah, course," Crowley said, tugging his mobile out of a pocket that still seemed far too small to fit such a thing and handing it over. "Should be in contacts, just text her. I'll… be right back, yeah?"

Aziraphale nodded, smiling up at Crowley, and waiting until he'd had left the room to let the expression drop.

Oh, Lord. This was… not what he had been expecting for today. He likely should have expected it, really– given his track record, he should have known that once something so disruptive began, he wouldn’t get a moment’s peace until it was over. It had just… it had been four years, now. Four years since he’d had to worry about– about anything of that sort, anything more pressing than Shadwell’s consistently bizarre orders at the bakery and trying to rebuild the extensive collection that Gabriel had burned. He’d almost… almost forgotten what the fear felt like, how it built in his chest, his shoulders, behind his temples.

But– well, he knew better than to get his hopes up, of course, but… it seemed as though Ms. Carter had understood, on some level, what she’d done. Why Warlock was so very angry with her. And… and now, Warlock would be able to choose whether or not to contact her again.

Assuming she lets them choose, a small voice in Aziraphale’s mind whispered. And she mentioned taking this whole situation to court, getting the police involved…

Aziraphale shook himself sharply, finding Ms. Carter's name in Crowley's contacts application and sending her a handful of Web sites that talked about the experiences of queer and transgender youth. If something happened, if she really was entirely unrepentant… well, then, he and Crowley would handle it. They had faced worse before, and survived. They would protect Warlock. Tadfield would protect Warlock. The three of them would be all right, in the end. No matter what happened.

Now, if only I could believe it.

The mobile in Aziraphale's hand buzzed, and he jumped, biting back a yelp. Ms. Carter had answered him, and much faster than he'd expected, too. Call me Harriet. Thanks.

Well. That was… that was that, then. Aziraphale set the mobile down on the coffee table, leaving Harriet to her reading, as Crowley re-emerged with the laptop, the auction website already pulled up on the screen. He picked his mobile back up and settled in beside Aziraphale, and they started talking about the books for sale, Crowley's day at the shop, the new variety of chocolate scones that Aziraphale was planning to attempt tomorrow. Anything and everything they could think of.

Neither of them could entirely focus, though they didn’t say another word about Harriet Carter for the duration of the afternoon.

Chapter Text

It was pretty late by the time Warlock got home, late enough that Pop had already started on dinner.

Or, at least, he should have started on dinner.

Instead, when they opened the door, both Pop and Dad were sitting in the living room, holding hands and frowning at a blank laptop screen.

Warlock froze in the doorway, one shoe off, until the sound of the door shutting behind them jolted everyone out of their silence.

“She came back,” Warlock said, their voice quieter and more strangled than they’d meant it to be. “She–”

“She did,” Pop said softly.

“She’s not gonna try to take you away,” said Crowley. “And even if she was, we wouldn’t let her. Not ever. Okay?”

Warlock nodded, taking a step forwards, before remembering that they were still wearing a shoe and kicking it off. “I– yeah. I know.”

“Warlock…” Pop sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, then said, a little too quickly, “She wants to speak with you.”

Warlock froze again. “She what?”

“You don’t have to,” said Dad. “You don’t owe her a damn thing, and I made sure that she knew that. You are under absolutely no obligation to say another word to her ever again, not if you don’t want to.”

Pop nodded quickly. “Of course. She also… she asked us to tell you that… that she’s sorry. And, again, you are under no obligation to forgive her, or even to accept her apology, but, well…”

Warlock blinked, shaking their head. “She– she never apologized, before. Not ever. Not for any of it. Not… did she really leave him? Did she leave my bio-dad? Is she– does she care at all?”

Dad and Pop glanced at one another for a brief moment.

“She does appear to have left Mr. Dowling behind for good,” Pop said. “And… well. She… doesn’t entirely seem like the... overtly affectionate sort, but… she does seem to… to care, in her way.”

“She does?” Warlock breathed, feeling that like a punch to the stomach. “She... all this time, she...”

“You okay?” Dad asked, then shook his head. “Stupid question. What do you need, right now?”

Warlock took a deep breath. “Just… just… I need a minute. Just a minute. I’ll… I’m gonna go upstairs. I– I’ll– I need to think.”

“Take as much time as you need, my dear,” Pop said, standing up slowly. “And if you want or need either of us, for anything at all, do let us know.”

“We love you, kiddo,” Dad said, his voice a little strained-sounding.

“More than anything,” Pop promised.

“Love you, too,” Warlock said. Then they darted upstairs, closing the door to their room behind them and pressing up against it.

Their mom, their birth mom, cared about them. And– and, maybe, yeah, it wasn’t how a mom was supposed to care about their kid, but…

For almost fifteen years, Warlock had thought that– that she didn’t care at all. That she was somewhere between indifferent and actively hostile towards them. That she hadn’t ever looked for them, after they’d left, because she just couldn’t be bothered to. That she had spent those eleven years, before they got kicked out, avoiding them whenever she could on purpose. They knew that it wasn’t their fault, that she hadn’t seemed to care, they knew that it wasn’t anything they had done, but… but…

Warlock stumbled over to their bed, dragging their phone out of their skirt pocket and dialing Adam’s number blindly.

“Warlock?” Adam said when he answered. “What–”

“My mom came back,” Warlock said. “She said she was sorry, Adam. She apologized. She said that she… that she cares about me.”

Warlock could hear Adam’s sharp gasp. “She– what?”

“Apparently, while we were hanging out, my mom came by the cottage and talked to my dads. She said she wants to talk to me! What do I do? It’s– fifteen years– I don’t–”

“Hey, hey, take a deep breath,” Adam said quickly. “Don’t– don’t panic, yeah? Do you have to decide right now?”

Warlock shook their head, then remembered that Adam couldn’t see them. “No. No, not right now. My dads said to take my time.”

“There you go,” Adam said. “And they’ve got your back.”

“Yeah,” Warlock said, taking as deep a breath as they could manage. “Yeah, they do.”

“Right,” Adam said. “So… what… what do you want to do?”

Warlock almost laughed. “I– I don’t know. I have no idea. No fucking clue.”

“Okay,” Adam said. “Do you… do you want to see her again?”

Warlock shrugged hopelessly. “She’s my mom.”

“She gave birth to you,” Adam said. “That doesn’t make her your mum, not if you don’t want her to be.”

“I can’t just– just never talk to her again,” Warlock said. “Not if she wants to talk to me. Right?”

There was a soft huff of breath on the other end.

Then Adam said, his voice oddly quiet, “Y’know, I dunno if I’ve ever told you, but I’m adopted, too.”

Warlock blinked. “What? I– wow. I didn’t know.”

“It was back when I was a baby, so I don’t remember the people who gave birth to me,” Adam said. “And the parents I’ve got are my real parents, they raised me, they love me. Doesn’t matter if I technically have ‘their blood in my veins,’ or whatever. But, back when I was eleven– the day after our birthday, actually, right before you turned up– my bio-dad showed up out of nowhere. Said he wanted to get to know me, actually be my dad. Said he’d been keeping track of me, and I was supposed to uphold his family name and legacy or whatever, and that I was doing a shoddy job of it. I told him to fuck off– or, I mean, I was eleven, so I didn’t say that, but you know what I mean. I said that real dads don’t wait till you’re eleven to say hello, then turn up to tell you off. He wasn’t my real dad, doesn’t matter if I have his DNA or not. He ended up leaving, after that, and I went back home to my real parents.“

“Oh,” Warlock said softly. “I… had no idea.”

“Yeah,” Adam said. “We don’t… we don’t talk about it, really. Adam and Pepper and Wensley were there, too, when it happened, but I never told my parents about it. I dunno what I would’ve done if they hadn’t been there. So… I mean, I get it, I think.”

“It… sort of,” Warlock said. “And I think I know what you’re saying.”

“You don’t owe her anything,” Adam helpfully clarified. “No matter if she’s related to you or not.”

“Yeah, exactly. But… she actually was my mom. For eleven years. It’s not like she’s just… turning up out of nowhere to yell at me.”

“Sounds to me like that’s exactly what she’s doing,” Adam said.

Warlock sighed. “I just... I dunno.”

“What do you want to do?” Adam asked again.

“I’m still not sure,” Adam said. “She… I… I just…”

How could they possibly explain it? Adam’s parents had both loved him for his whole life. They’d loved him enough to choose him, right from the start. And, yeah, Warlock’s dads had chosen them, too, but... Warlock’s mom had gotten stuck with them when she clearly hadn’t wanted to be, and the second that their bio-dad found out that they weren’t a perfect poster child of manliness, he’d hated them. How did they explain that to someone who’d never known what it felt like? How could they explain how it felt to spend so, so long trying so, so hard to be what they’d both wanted before finally giving it up, only for their mom to show up out of nowhere and apologize?

“Warlock?” Adam’s voice came through the phone, startling them out of their thoughts.

“Sorry,” Warlock said. “I guess… I dunno. She… like, I said, apparently she apologized. Told my dads to tell me that she was sorry.”

“Do you believe her?” Adam asked.

“Yes,” Warlock said. “I mean, no. I mean– I don’t know! I have no idea what to do, what to think. This is all… I’ve wanted her to love me for my whole life. And now… but, but I don’t know if she means it. If she’s still the same, if nothing’s changed, if she’s just gonna show up and call me the wrong name and the wrong pronouns and it’ll be just like… is it worth it to take the chance?”

“I dunno,” Adam said softly. “I’m sorry.”

“S’okay,” Warlock muttered, flopping back onto their bed and glaring as powerfully as they could manage up at the ceiling. “I’m just… I don’t know what to do.”

“Well. You said you want her to love you, but… you know that we all love you no matter what, yeah?” Adam said. “Your dads, and me and the Them, and the Shadwells, and Newt and Anathema… we all love you.”

“I know,” Warlock said. “It’s not– I mean, I’m not going anywhere. Even if she is sorry, even if she has changed, I’m not– I’m not gonna leave.”

“Good,” Adam said, and he sounded… more relieved than Warlock had expected.

Warlock blinked. “Did you… think I would want to? Why would I want to?”

“I dunno,” Adam said. “But… I mean, when it was me, a part of me did. Want to, I mean. Or, really– I dunno. Almost. Not quite, it was never enough to– but– I dunno. It’s hard to explain.”

“No, I get it,” Warlock said. “I… for me, it’s more like… I want to want it, y’know? I... I kinda want to want for her to take me away. I don’t actually want it, not really, but…”

“Yeah,” Adam said. “Yeah. Like that.”

They were both silent for a long, long moment.

Then, softly, almost hoping that Adam wouldn’t hear it, Warlock said, “I still just want her to love me.”

Adam’s breath hissed in. “War…”

“I know! I know it’s dumb, and I know I’m being dumb, and I know she’s probably exactly the same, and I know that she didn’t do anything when it mattered, but now she’s apologizing and she says she wants to see me again and I never thought I’d ever see her and all I ever, ever wanted when I lived in that fucking house was for her and my dad to see me like a person instead of a, a trophy or a toy or a little puppet and–”

“Warlock,” Adam said. “I wasn’t gonna say that you’re being dumb.”

Warlock blinked. “You weren’t?”

“No!” Adam said, and he sounded almost offended. “She hurt you, yeah, but she was your mum for eleven years. Of course you want her to love you! I just… I don’t want her to hurt you again. Not if there’s a way to prevent it. Yeah?”

“Oh,” Warlock said, blinking. “I. Yeah. That… yeah.”

“I’m not gonna lie, I don’t really trust her,” Adam said. “Like I said. She hurt you, and I really don’t like any of the people who hurt my friends. And I think if my bio-dad ever turned up again I’d probably sock him. But I’m not you, and I can’t tell you what to do. If you want to talk to her, if you need to talk to her again, even if it’s just to see whether or not she’s still an arse… you should do what you need to do.”

“Yeah,” Warlock said again. “You– if I do talk to her, will you come with me?”

“‘Course,” Adam said, like it was never even a question. “I can be there. All of us can, if you need us.”

Warlock nodded, then remembered, yet again, that Adam couldn’t see him. “You’re… you’re the best, Adam. Thank you.”

“If you need me, I’m here,” Adam promised. “Should I still text you if I get any more party details from my mum?”

Warlock laughed. “Yeah. Please. Yeah. That’d… that’d be great.”

“Wicked,” Adam said, and Warlock could hear his grin. “See you tomorrow, yeah?”

“See you,” Warlock said. Then they hung up and set the phone aside, closing their eyes and just laying there for a moment, taking a deep breath, before sitting up slowly and making their way back downstairs.

Pop had actually started on dinner, by the time they got to the kitchen. Dad was washing the dishes, and both of them were turned partly towards one another, in the way they both did whenever they’d had a bad day and didn’t really want to be out of each other’s sight.

Warlock cleared their throat, and both of them jumped, turning to face them.

“My dear child,” Pop said, moving whatever he was cooking off the heat and bustling over to stand next to them. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” Warlock said, hugging Pop tightly. He was warm, and soft, and Warlock gratefully buried their face in the soft velvet his worn old waistcoat, feeling oddly young and small. “Yeah, I… I’m okay.”

“Do you want us to set up a session with Amy?” Dad asked, and Warlock looked up to see him dry his hands off before coming to stand behind them, putting a gentle, bracing hand on their back, just above where Pop’s arms were.

“I… yeah. Probably. That’s probably a good idea,” Warlock admitted. “But… I think I… with… with my old mom. I… want to talk to her. Just one time, I think. Just to… I have to know. If she’s… if it’s real, if she’s really changed, or if… if she’s just pulling some bullshit to, to… I don’t know. But… I wanna know. I need to know.”

Pop nodded, squeezing Warlock a little closer. “Of course. Would you like to be the one to arrange it– you could use my mobile, if you like, so she doesn’t have your contact information– or would you like us to do it?”

“You guys, I think,” Warlock said. “Do you… do you think we could do it soon? Maybe tomorrow? I don’t… I don’t want it to be on the day of the party. Or… or on my birthday.”

“‘Course,” Dad said. “D’you want me to text her now? See what she says?”

Warlock nodded, pressing his face into Pop’s dumb old waistcoat again. Dad started rubbing circles into their shoulder-blade with one hand, while the other made some sort of pocket-related rustling sound.

“Would you like us to be there?” Pop asked. “While you talk to her.”

“I… think so, yeah,” Warlock said. “I already– I was just talking to Adam, and I already asked him if he’d be there, and I think I’m gonna ask the rest of the Them, too, which, I know that’s a lot of people, and I know it’s dumb, and I know she’ll just think I’m lying to her to make you guys happy if you’re there so it’s probably stupid but I don’t… I don’t wanna be alone when I talk to her.”

“That makes sense,” Dad said, still rubbing circles into Warlock’s back.

Warlock made a sound that was definitely not a sniffle, picking their head up slowly. “Do you guys think this is dumb? I mean… is it… am I…?”

“Not at all,” Pop said, shaking his head. He stepped away from Warlock, making his way back over to the stove and whatever he was cooking– it looked like chicken from here, but Warlock wasn’t sure. Dad stayed close, wrapping his arm around Warlock’s shoulders properly now, still glaring down at his phone.

“Has she responded?” Warlock asked.

“She’s typing,” Dad said, putting the phone away. “You’re not being dumb. You tried for eleven years to get her love. It makes sense that you’re not quite ready to give up on that without trying one more time.”

“Do you…” Warlock took a deep breath, then pressed on. They wanted to know. They needed to know. “Do you think it’ll go well? Or will it all go to shit again? You were right last time, and I– I was completely, totally wrong. About everything. You guys might… do you think she’s… is anything going to be different, or is she just gonna ignore everything about me that actually matters and fuck off again?”

Dad’s arm tightened, drawing Warlock in close.

Pop sighed. “I… I don’t know. Neither of us… have any particular experience in this realm, I’m afraid. But… well, I don’t know her, of course, not nearly as well as you do, but… she seemed genuinely remorseful. It appeared as though… as though she didn’t quite realise what she had done. Which, of course, is no excuse for having done it, but…”

“We don’t know how this’ll go,” Crowley said. “I’m sorry, kiddo. But… I really, really hope it goes well.”

“That’s what you said last time, too,” said Warlock, trying their best to keep the slowly-building panic inside their chest under control.

Dad pulled them closer again, this time wrapping his other arm around them, too, and squeezing like a bloody snake.

“You’re gonna suffocate me,” Warlock said, gasping exaggeratedly.

Dad laughed, loosening his hold slightly. “Sorry.”

“S’okay,” Warlock said, hugging him back before extricating themself from his grip. “Pop, do you need any help with dinner? What’re you making?”

“Chicken and rice,” said Pop. “Would you terribly mind finishing the washing up? It seems as though your father has given up.”

“Oi, I’m getting to it!” Dad protested. “I was sort of in the middle of something.”

“I’ll dry,” Warlock offered, grinning. Dad grinned back, and they both moved to stand near the sink, Dad shifting slightly so that he could see both Warlock and Pop at once.

“Excellent,” Pop said, beaming over at Warlock. “I’m afraid I’ll likely be adding to your mess in a moment, though I’m sure we could leave these out to soak overnight if we so chose…”

“Absolutely not,” Dad said, “if we leave them out they won’t get washed for a week, and that’s way too long for–”

Dad’s mobile buzzed, loud enough for Warlock to hear it, and all three of them froze.

“Answer it,” Warlock said immediately, holding the towel they were holding out to him. “Please.”

“‘Course,” Dad said, wiping his hands off quickly and tugging the mobile out. “It– she said okay. That tomorrow… tomorrow works for her. Her reservation is for the next few days, apparently… She does say she wants to meet with you in private, Warlock. Are you…?”

“Not in private,” Warlock said, shaking their head a little bit frantically. “Not– no. But… if she’s okay with, like, a café or something… that would be okay. And then my friends can sit at the next table or whatever, and… I don’t think she’d trust what I was saying, not if you guys were right there, but if you could... I dunno, be nearby, be in a shop next door or something... that would be okay.”

“Got it,” Dad said. “I’ll let her know.”

Warlock nodded, then turned back to the dishes, focusing on them as fiercely as they could.

“She said that worked for her,” Dad said softly. “How d’you feel about meeting in Michael’s place? That way the garden shop is right there, if you need to leave.”

“Yeah,” Warlock said, nodding. “Yeah, that… okay. That works.”

Dad nodded as well. There was silence for a moment, apart from the soft sounds of Pop cooking, and then Dad said, “It’s… set, then. One o’clock tomorrow.”

Warlock blinked, then blinked again. Oh, shit. They were going to cry, weren’t they?

One o’clock tomorrow.

“D’you want another hug?” Dad offered softly.

Warlock nodded, turning and burying their face in his chest, squeezing their eyes shut against the burn of tears.

“We’ve got you,” Dad promised, squeezing Warlock close again, petting a hand through their hair. “And you’ve got this. You’re one of the bravest people I’ve ever met, did you know that? Don’t think we say it nearly enough anymore. You are. And, however this turns out, we’re here. We love you, Warlock, so bloody much. Always.”

“Love you, too,” Warlock mumbled.

There was a soft clinking sound, like that of metal against granite, and then Pop joined the hug, too.

“We love you more than anything, my dear,” he said. “And we’re here for you. Always.”

“’Sides, if she wanted to try anything, she’d have to go through all of bloody Tadfield to do it,” Dad pointed out. “And 'all of Tadfield' includes Pepper, and I would hate to be on the other end of that lecture. Seriously, I dunno who thought it was a good idea to give that girl queer theory for her birthday.”

Warlock giggled, pressing closer to both their dads for a moment before straightening up and wiping away the small handful of tears that they hadn’t been able to hold back. “That's all on you guys, Dad. I tried to warn you."

"Oi, it was your Pop's idea," Dad protested

"And I don't regret it for a moment," Pop said, before squeezing Warlock's shoulder gently. "She will be there for you, I'm sure of it, as will all your other friends."

“And anyone else you want,” Dad added. “If you’d like us to round up the whole protection squad again, we can probably manage it.”

“I don’t need everyone to be there,” Warlock said, rolling their eyes. “Just… just my friends. And... and you guys, on backup, I guess. Just in case. That’ll be good.”

Pop smiled, gentle and warm. “I do so hope it will.” Then he straightened up, clearing his throat and folding his hands in front of himself. “Now. Dinner ought to be ready, and I doubt it will taste as good if we let it get cold.”

“I thought we were gonna finish the washing up?” Warlock pointed out.

“Ehh, we can leave the rest to soak,” Dad said, waving his hand.

“Can we?” Pop asked, raising an eyebrow. “Really? When I suggested it, you said–”

“Oh, shut up,” Dad said, rolling his eyes. “C’mon, kiddo. Let’s eat.”

###

The next day at ten minutes to one, Warlock sat in the café in town, Pepper’s arm wrapped protectively around their shoulders. She and Warlock, along with Adam, Brian, and Wensley (and Dog, sitting at Adam’s feet as always) were all talking about the teachers they’d have next year, loud and cheerful in a way that would have felt normal if all five of them hadn’t been glancing around the café as though something was about to jump out at them.

Warlock was only barely avoiding panicking. They had absolutely no idea what to expect from their mom. Would she be exactly the same as she’d always been, distant and dismissive and utterly uninterested in them? Would she be mean or hurtful, about them or their dads, to try and get under their skin? Or would she… would she actually care?

They weren’t sure which possibility they were most afraid of.

The café door opened, and Warlock spun around, their eyes landing on the newcomer.

It was her.

The rest of the Them fell silent, and Pepper squeezed Warlock’s shoulders, whispering, “If you need us to kick her arse for you, just shout.”

Warlock nodded dumbly, and Pepper let go, letting them stand up slowly and make their way over to their mom, who had picked out a table and was hanging her purse on the back of the chair.

“Hi,” they said quietly, and Harriet jumped, looking up at them.

“TJ– hi,” she said.

Warlock grimaced. “That’s not my name.”

Harriet frowned. “I… yeah. Those other two, the ones you’re living with–”

“My dads, yeah.”

“They said that you go by that now.” Harriet sighed. “I… don’t know what to do.”

“Who says you have to do anything? Just leave. Again. It’s not like you care,” Warlock snapped.

Harriet stared at them. “Of course I care! You’re my son! Or, whatever you are.”

“I’m not your son, because I’m not a boy, and because you fucking kicked me out,” Warlock said. “Even if you didn’t say the words, you just– you just let him do it. And then it took you four years to even bother pretending that you cared enough to come find me. Why are you bothering to pretend, now? Why does it matter all of a sudden? Can you just not handle seeing me actually happy for once?”

“No, that’s not it!” Harriet protested immediately. “No. God, honey, no. I want you to be happy. I– I do know I wasn’t the best mom, and I... you know, I never really wanted to have kids.”

Warlock snorted. “Yeah, I figured.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t care about you,” Harriet said. “I’m just… not good at showing it.”

Warlock paused for a moment, then sighed, rubbing a hand over their face. “Why are you here?”

Harriet frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Why are you here? Really? Why did you come to see me? Did you really want to bring me home with you? You said it yourself, you didn’t want to have me. You’re free of my bio-dad now. I’m happy here. Why did you come all this way? What was the point?”

“I… you’re my… kid,” Harriet said. “I… I mean, I’ve always known it was wrong, what Thad did you to. But I didn’t– it took me a year to work up the courage to leave, and then the divorce was another year and a half, and then I had to find a job and a place… and then, you changed your name. First and last. It took me some time to find you, and… I wanted you to have a place to live, at least, when I got you back.” She sighed. “I… read some of the articles that the one man, your… dad... sent me last night. I just… I thought, you were always off in London, and you had so many little friends, I thought you’d be okay until I came back.”

“No, you didn’t,” Warlock said, slumping back in their seat. Fuck, they were exhausted. “You didn’t think about it at all. You assumed that I was in some kind of stasis when you couldn’t see me, and that I’d still be desperate for your love and attention when you found me again.”

Harriet was silent.

Warlock sighed again. “You have no idea how lucky I was, do you? Still. It was hard for the three of us, getting out of London safely. Coming here. And I was so fucking lucky. I can’t even imagine where I’d be, if I hadn’t had them to tell me that I wasn’t unloveable or broken, if they hadn’t been there to take me in. I probably wouldn’t have been alive for you to find, after four entire years.”

“TJ…”

“Warlock. My name is Warlock.” They shook their head. “You don’t want me around. I’m happy here, without you. There is no reason for you to stick around anymore. Go home, Harriet. We’ll both be better off if you do.”

Harriet stared at them for a long, long moment.

Then she asked, softly, “Are you really happy here? Honestly? Are you… you were always such a grumpy kid. Are you really happier, like this?”

Warlock nodded almost frantically, balling their hands into fists beneath the table as though that could keep the tears in their eyes from spilling over. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m… I’m so much happier. I’m happier than I ever thought I could be.”

Harriet nodded as well, slowly, almost carefully. “Then… I guess that’s all… all I ever really hoped for, for you. That you’d be happier than I was.” She stood up, picked up her purse, and then paused, glancing back down at the table, not quite meeting Warlock’s gaze. “I’m… sorry, too. Warlock.”

Then she was gone, the café door swinging shut behind her.

Warlock sat frozen, their entire body trembling, staring at the space where their mom had just been.

Then there was something warm and solid squeezing them half to death, and they jumped, glancing over to see that Brian had practically launched himself over to their table to give them a hug.

“M’sorry, mate,” he said, squeezing tighter.

Then Wensleydale was there, too, his hug not nearly as suffocating but just as earnest, and Pepper was draping herself over Warlock’s back, and Adam was grabbing onto Warlock’s front, his mess of curls blocking their view of the door, and then the dam broke, and Warlock was crying, curling into their friends’ embraces as they sobbed.

None of them said a word, and none of the grown-ups interrupted. The five of them just huddled there, silent and close, wrapped up together, until Warlock cried themself dry and straightened up slightly, prompting everyone but Pepper to loosen their grips.

“Do you need me to talk some sense into her after all?” Pepper asked.

Warlock snorted. “No. No, it… it didn’t… it wasn’t… as bad as I was scared it would be.”

“That doesn’t mean we don’t need to kick her arse for you,” Brian pointed out.

“Honestly,” Warlock said. “I’m… I’m okay. I just… it was a lot. It… yeah.”

“Actually, crying after a highly emotional experience can be very cathartic,” Wensley said.

“Will you be all right?” Adam asked.

Warlock took a deep breath, then nodded. “I… yeah. Yeah, I’ll be okay. I just… I need to go tell my dads that I’m good, they’re probably super worried, and then… can we do something distracting? Please?”

“We could go play a game,” Adam suggested. “Super Smash Bros? If we take turns we can all have a go.”

“My dad just replaced that controller that Wensley broke,” Brian said. “And maybe we can ask your dads if we can borrow money for ice cream!”

“I didn’t break the controller!” Wensley protested. “It was actually already broken when you gave it to me.”

“The last controller broke because somebody got ice cream all over it,” Pepper said, staring pointedly Brian.

“Ice cream and Super Smash Bros sounds good,” Warlock said, standing up and dislodging Pepper in the process. “I… thanks, guys.”

“We’re your friends. We’ll always be here,” Brian said, like it was completely obvious.

Adam nodded, smiling in that way of his, like he just knew things were gonna work out. “Whenever you need us.”

“Thanks,” Warlock said again, swallowing back some more tears. “Now, we’ve gotta go talk to my dads, before they lose their minds. Let’s go.”

###

The day of Warlock and Adam’s “surprise” party was about as perfect as it was possible to be. It was hot without being sweltering, a drier sort of heat than was typical for August in England, with bright sunshine and the occasional cool breeze. It definitely wasn’t raining, at least not out here.

That was what Warlock focused on. They didn’t think about London. They didn’t think about their parents. They definitely didn’t think about their eleventh birthday, and what had happened back when they were eleven.

No, they focused as intently as they could on the weather, and on what Adam was saying as they strolled through the wood together. They focused on faking shock as they and Adam "stumbled" into the big tent set out in the village green, and on goofing off with their friends, and on stuffing their face with the cakes that Pop had baked, and on opening presents alongside Adam, trading the gifts back and forth only to end up with a muddled-up mess in between them that they'd need to sort out later. They didn't think about their eleventh birthday. They didn't think about their bio-dad. They didn't think about their mum.

At least, not until they got back to Eden Cottage after the party to see an envelope with their name on it sitting just inside the entryway.

Warlock froze, stunned enough that they hardly even registered it when Pop bumped into them from behind.

"What–" Dad asked, peering around them, his eyes landing immediately on the envelope. "Shit. Do you think…?"

Warlock scooped the stupid thing up and hurried inside, tearing it open as their dads tailed after them.

"Warlock, my dear, would you prefer for one of us to read that for you?" Pop asked.

"I don't know," Warlock admitted, pulling the card out despite that. Something else fell out of the envelope, fluttering to the floor, but they ignored it, focusing on the note.

It was Harriet's handwriting, scrawled across the blank inside of a fairly generic birthday card.

Dear Warlock,

I'm sorry.

I know that, at this point, it probably doesn't mean much. I messed up, and I was too caught up in my own head to see how much I was hurting you. That's my fault, and I'm sorry for it.

I may not have wanted kids, but that isn't an excuse for treating the one I had badly. I'm glad that you found somewhere to be yourself and be happy. Even though I don't really understand it yet, I'll try to learn, and I'm glad that you're comfortable and safe. Your new dads seem like really nice people, by the way. I'm happy that you found each other, and I'm sorry that I couldn't have been there to see it.

I know you don't think of me as your mom anymore, and I'm not going to ask for that. You were right, it would just make both of us unhappy again. But I do have a good job now, and Thad didn't think to write a prenup when we got married, so if you and your folks need any help, feel free to reach out. Your dads told me that you don't owe me forgiveness, and they're right, but if you ever do decide that you want to talk to me again, I'll be here. My address is on the check, and your dads have my number. I missed four years of birthdays and Christmases and everything else, and God knows I probably deserve to miss the rest of them too, but I hope that this helps to make up for at least a little bit of that.

Happy birthday, Warlock, and I'm sorry for everything that happened last time I said that. I'm so glad you're happy, and I hope you stay that way for as long as possible, whether that's with or without me around.

Love,

Harriet Carter

Warlock held the note in limp fingers, blinking back tears to scan through it again and again. Then they looked down, towards the thing that had dropped. They could see it, where it had landed– a cheque for five hundred pounds.

"Warlock?"

Pop's voice, soft and concerned, jolted Warlock out of their reverie, and they looked up to see both of their dads crouched in front of them, staring at them with wide, worried eyes.

"Are you all right, my dear?" Pop asked quietly.

Warlock glanced down at the note again, and then back up. There was something blooming in their chest, something light and fragile and fizzy and– and hopeful. They didn't– they still didn't want to talk to Harriet, not really, it had been too long and she'd done too little, but… but there was this, still, and Warlock… hadn't quite realized just how much they'd wanted it until they got it.

"Warlock?" Dad asked, sounding properly worried now.

Warlock met his eyes, feeling the tears build up again, light in a way they hadn't been since their mom first showed up three days ago. They reached out, and Dad and Pop were there at once, wrapping around them and holding them close, warm and steady and loving.

Carefully, Warlock clutched the note in their hand, pressing their face into Pop's worn old jacket as the tears began to fall once more.

"Yeah," they said, their voice quiet and trembling and relieved and happy. "Yeah, I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm good."