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There were two babies in the nursery that night. Both chubby, but one chubbier than the other.
The chubbier one with white-blonde hair and pale-blue eyes sat on the thick rug with a hard-cover novel in his hand, which he should most definitely not be able to understand. Yet, he pursed and frowned as he read and turned the pages with those short fingers once in a while.
The other child has darker hair, brown with a golden hue. He was held against a lean chest, belonging to a stern-looking woman in a black satin blouse. As the woman hummed softly, she rocked the baby in her arms back and forth and fed him with the warmed bottle on her hand.
As the baby sucked the silicone nipple peacefully, a faint stream of liquid leaking from the corner of his mouth. The woman stared at the streak and lost in her own thoughts.
“What do you think it tastes like?” The woman asked quietly, examining the one-third full bottle in her hand.
“What?” The baby responded in a posh accent and looked up, suddenly scandalised. “Crowley! You cannot be asking me what breastmilk tastes like!”
“Why not?” Crowley shrugged. “It’s not breast milk, by the way. Harriet didn’t have the energy and time. And, well, I don’t think feeding the Antichrist demonically miracle breastmilk is a good idea. And sucking a demon’s tits is worse.”
The baby rolled his eyes dramatically and returned to his book.
“So it’s just formula, really,” Crowley continued, looking at the baby from the edges of her dark glasses. “Do you think he can tell the difference?”
“Fine, Crowley,” the baby huffed. “If you are really curious about the taste, why don’t you just taste it?”
“Me?” Crowley’s eyes widened behind the lenses. “How inappropriate it must look? A nanny sucking on the milk bottle of the baby she’s taking care of?”
“You are a demon. It’s your job to do inappropriate things.”
“No, it’s not,” the women grumbled. “You should try it. And convey the taste to me with words, Aziraphale. Ha! That’s it! You’re good with words. You’re reading them now! That’s the plan.”
“I am not going through any of your plans anymore, Crowley,” the blonde baby did his best to lift his round chin, but it was tiring. His skull was too heaving for the tender neck. “Look where it got me.”
“Fine, just this once?” The nanny softened her voice, urging gently. “You’ve tried weird food before. You’ve eaten oysters!”
“That is totally different!” The baby squealed. That’s perhaps overreacting, but he hadn’t quite mastered the control over infant voice cord yet.
“Please, angel?” When he turned to the surprisingly soft voice, he knew he was tricked. The woman has taken down the glasses and looked at him with curious round eyes.
“Fine!” He pouted. “Neither of us mention this after tonight.”
“Deal!” The woman stormed to lay the now sleeping baby in his crib.