Chapter Text
Finally, the world was calm. Aziraphale had his bookshop, with Muriel as an attendant. Or rather, an unlikely source of both help and mover of progress. She had taken to hosting book groups on Fridays. It had been a long back and forth on that one, but it had finally happened, with the promise that no books would be sold, and the shop would be closed by 7pm. Muriel had agreed.
Crowley had moved into the upstairs apartments for the time being. Time being as he often shared his time between the bookshop and their new acquisition. A cozy, two bedroom cottage, that needed extensive renovations, that Crowley was both doing himself, and using builders for the few things they both agreed needed that human touch. Miracles in the most dire of circumstances.
So it was a very early morning, Crowley asleep upstairs, Muriel busy in the kitchen with tea and breakfast, while Aziraphale went through receipts and checked them against inventory. Soho was blissfully quiet as the morning sun slowly made its way towards breaking dawn, and the few cars debated between turning their lights on, or letting the running lights provide the illumination. And of course there was the knocking on the door, which was ignored. And then continued until it turned to pounding.
Aziraphale looked up, frowning, as he took his glasses off and set them on the desk. The pen in his hand followed suit.
“We’re closed.” he called out.
And still, more pounding. The Angel stood, straightened out his waistcoat, and headed towards the door.
“They’ll knock it off the hinges,” Aziraphale mumbled. The pounding once again turned to knocking.
“I said–” Aziraphale started as he pulled the door open. There was a slight resistance as he paused. There was no one in front of the door. The streets were quiet.
And a basket, with a large blanket, sat at the doorstep.
Aziraphale looked at the basket, curious, as he bent down to pull the blanket back. Bright blue eyes gazed at him as a coo escaped from soft pink lips.
“Well I’ll be damned,” Aziraphale’s voice was soft as he picked up the basket. He looked around the empty street once more, before retreating back into the bookshop.
Eggs and soldiers, strawberry jam, and strong assam tea sat on the small table. Muriel was placing down the silverware as she heard the sounds of Crowley stirring and making his way down the stairs.
“Good morning!” Muriel piped up as she caught sight of the thin dark duke.
“Eh,” Crowley grumbled, waving Muriel off and readjusting his sunglasses. It was bright, it was morning.
Muriel placed a cup of tea into Crowley’s hand, “Better be nice, we have company.”
Crowley glanced at the table, and then looked over to Aziraphale.
“What. is. That.” the teacup clattered as it was dropped onto the table.
“It’s a baby.”
“I can see that. Where did it come from?”
“It was left on my doorstep.”
Crowley spluttered, “Left on your doorstep? This isn’t the 19th century Angel, people just don’t leave babies on doorsteps!”
“And yet, it appears that this one has. A bit like Moses, rather. Oh! Do you think we should name the child Moses?”
“You’re not naming the baby - what’s this ‘we’?”
“Well, we raised Warlock, in a manner of speaking, I thought we would raise this child too.”
“Raise–? Aziraphale, we can’t keep it. It’s not ours.”
“Well, until the parents make themselves known, we simply can’t abandon the child.”
“We can. We can take it to a hospital, or an orphanage. I’m sure Great Ormond’s will take it.”
Aziraphale’s gaze turned steely as he looked at Crowley.
“The child has already been abandoned once, we are not making that happen twice.”
Crowley sighed, knowing he had lost the argument, hearing Aziraphale take that tone. It was the tone he used to correct people mispronouncing his name.
—
Nina’s steps stuttered as she entered the bookshop. The two looking up from holding the baby to the assumptive customer. Crowley caught Nina’s mouth working, as if trying to form some sort of question.
“It’s not ours.” Crowley supplied. Nina’s mouth closed and she took another step into the bookshop.
“Right then. Who’s–?”
“We’re not sure.” Crowley had looked back at Aziraphale who was cooing over the baby. “Come off it, it’s not a cherub.”
“Boy or girl?”
At this the two looked at each other.
“Er…”
“Well, sure you’ve changed the nappy?”
Silence again.
“Oh for–”
“Yes! Yes, we have.” not entirely a lie. Just a small, insignificant miracle.
“Then–?” Nina waited for the answer.
“I thought gender was just a social construct?” Muriel had poked her head from one of the back rows, startling all three.
“Well yes, but–”
“So it really doesn’t matter whether the child is a girl or a boy or…or nothing at all, does it?”
“How will they name it?” Nina asked. Muriel looked at the other two in the room.
“Ariel?” Aziraphale suggested, shoulders shrugging as he looked at Crowley.
“No, nope. We are not naming it after a frien–after a former co-worker. And certainly not her! Should be considered a demon, the way she fawned over that Hans Christian Andersen fellow. Y’know, they made a movie about her.”
Nina, confusion on her face, slowly started to back away towards the front of the shop. They were acting weird again and she wanted no part of it.
“Well, just came by to tell you, Maggie’s inviting everyone over for a listening session of the new Muddy Waters record she managed to come by.”
“Well, we’re not naming them in demonic, or angelic, then just how are we supposed to–”
“Bailey?” Nina offered helpfully, interrupting Aziraphale. “My cousin was named Bailey. They didn’t want anything too…gendered, was it?”
The baby cooed and let out a small screech, something akin to excitement. It startled the Angel and Demon enough to look down at the smiling child.
“Bailey?” Crowley tried. The infant let out another sound.
“I think they like it,” Aziraphale whispered.
“Bailey.” Crowley agreed.
“Right then, I’ll, uh, let the new parents go - other things to do.”
They weren’t listening, just staring down at the little blue eyed, brown haired child in wonderment as Bailey began to suck at their fist.
–
The bookshop was simply unprepared to house any sort of infant. And so, after much debating, Crowley grabbed Muriel and the two went to the shops while Aziraphale stayed with Bailey.
For their part, Bailey mostly nestled into Aziraphale’s shoulder as he walked them around the bookshop.
“These are the first editions - and we won’t be touching those until we’re older. And over here are the more current books that have been published. Though, they won’t be quite so new once you can start walking – can you walk? Little one?” Aziraphale slowly moved towards the ground and then stopped. “No, no, I should wait till Crowley gets back. If you can take steps, he’ll want to see your first ones.”
“Blugh!” Bailey replied. Aziraphale frowned,
“We’ll need to work on your language, I think.”
“Mark and…Spencer's?” Muriel asked as they pulled up to the store.
“One stop shop. Kid’s gonna need quite a few things.” Crowley led Muriel into the store, weaving through the aisles and heading to the baby section.
“Bailey looked what - ‘bout eighteen months?” Crowley began flipping through a rack of small shirts.
“I guess? I'm still not used to human ages. Couldn't you just miracle them clothes?”
“Could, but they won't be able to do it for themselves and they've gotta learn to dress themself. They'll have a lot of learning to do.” Crowley already had a handful of clothes on his arms. “Go grab a trolley. We're gonna need a lot more.”
Muriel went to grab the trolley and came back, watching as Crowley put an assortment of clothes into the basket.
“This way,” he motioned, heading into the next aisle. “They probably won’t be on solids just yet –” Crowley let out a sigh as he picked up a baby food jar, “this is going to put a dent in dinner dates.”
“Why’s that?” Muriel looked at the jar Crowley was holding - sweet potatoes - and then looked at the shelves of various purees. “I could always babysit.”
An eyebrow arched over the sunglasses as Crowley looked from the jar to Muriel. He was quiet, before he tossed the jar into the basket, along with a few other items. “Could.” he replied.
“Why’s everything mashed? Why can’t Bailey just eat normal food?”
“Didn’t get a good look at their mouth, but they most likely won’t have all their teeth. And definitely not molars. Oh, bottles! - Maybe sippy cups.” Crowley grabbed a few more things before turning around another aisle, beginning to analyze the cups and plates. “Chemicals in everything nowadays,” he mumbled.
“How do you know all this?” Muriel asked as she turned the corner, kneeling down and looking at some very thin, rainbow colored plastic silverware
Crowley didn’t look down, “Nanny for nearly ten years. Helped raised - well, we thought he was the antichrist. Warlock. Learned plenty from his mum, and books, and him.”
“So you’ve raised a human before. And Mr. Aziraphale?”
Crowley chuckled, tossing rubber plates, sippy cups and baby silverware into the trolley. “Not quite. He helped, but he was out being the gardener. Though he needed my help with that too.”
Crowley’s eyes went to the middle distance, as if remembering something, briefly, before he shook his head and began to move again.
This time past aisles of diapers and car seats, toys and books, until he reached furniture, where rocking chairs and cots were.
Crowley’s fingertips brushed over the wood of the cot. It was nearly black, claimed to be convertible, and felt sturdy. The floor model was decorated with baby blue sheets, and a yellow teddy bear. A mobile of woodland creatures hung suspended over where a head could rest.
Crowley glanced over to the rockers, where Muriel sat in one, gently gliding back and forth, looking over the side of the arm rest to see how it worked.
“Whaddya think?”
“It feels like floating. Maybe…maybe needs something so you could put your feet up?” Muriel suggested looking between her feet and then to the demon.
Crowley pointed to the row of matching ottomans across from the chair.
“Next idea?”
“Oh.” Muriel grinned sheepishly as she stood. Crowley briefly tapped the side of his glasses.
“Help me find someone who works here. I think it's time we finish our shopping.”
Crowley practically skipped back into the bookstore, bags over both arms,
“Nearly bought out the entire store, we did. But we’ve got everything now - baby food, clothes, cot will be delivered by this evening.”
Crowley set the bags down, plopped his sunglasses onto the statue of the horse and watched as Aziraphale tried to play patty cake with the squirming child sitting in front of him. For their part, Bailey largely kept their balance sitting up, before stuffing a fist into their mouth.
“No, no we don’t eat our hands.” Aziraphale tried to guide the fist from their mouth. Crowley had to work hard to keep the smile from his face.
“Give ‘em here. Like raising Warlock all over again. Though I’m not getting back into the nanny outfit.”
“Never said you should,” Aziraphale stated as he stood, straightening out his waistcoat, “Nor I the gardener outfit.”
Crowley let out a soft ‘ha’ as he picked up Bailey from the floor. Their little hands grasped at his cheeks as their face began to screw up into a frown, the lower lip beginning to pout.
“No, no no, dear. Papa has you. We’re going to get you fed, yeah? Yeah, I know that look. Must be starving. C’mon off we pop.”
Aziraphale watched, eyes in soft wonder. Crowley had always been good with kids of any age, but it felt different. Warlock had been their charge, but not theirs per se. Bailey, for the moment was theirs.
“Oi, Muriel, get some water boiled, yeah? And sterilize those bottles.” Crowley directed before he looked at Aziraphale, “Get me a teaspoon, yeah? She can work on the sweet potatoes while we wait for the bottle– what’s that look?” Crowley’s eyebrow raised.
“You.” Aziraphale’s face was a mix of wonder and love, bordering more on love. “I thought you wanted to give them to Ormond Street just a few hours ago?”
“Yeah, well,” Crowley looked at Bailey and sat them down on the sofa next to the desk. “Still, we should watch out for them. Least we can do till their parents get back.”
“And what if their parents never return?” Aziraphale began to tidy the side of his desk, opening up a small space where a dish and a bottle could be sat down.
Bailey gurgled as she put her fists back into her mouth. Crowley propped pillows around her before reaching into a bag and getting out one of the bibs he had bought that afternoon.
“I'll start a search tomorrow.” Crowley began, after Bailey was settled, “Check the CCTV, newspapers, Internet. Make sure they're not a kidnapped heiress or such. Someone's got to be missing the tyke.”
Muriel returned with the spoon, handing it over to Crowley.
“I'm heading out. Maggie’s going to teach me to make mushroom not pie.”
“Going to just look at it?” Aziraphale asked, looking up from his desk.
“Still not interested.” Muriel shrugged as she grabbed her coat.
“Be safe–”
Muriel waved her mobile in the air. “I'll call if there's trouble.”
The bells over the door chimed as Muriel left. The bolt sliding into the lock clicked.
Aziraphale glanced from the door to Crowley, who had Bailey back on his lap, feeding her small spoonfuls of a burned orange mush. It had been a very long time since they had a young charge. During dinners at the Darling household, Aziraphale usually was in the village by that point, at the local, tucked in a corner. Crowley's nights were late since he had to do most of the care taking.
Aziraphale found himself sitting in the chair at his desk, watching as Crowley talked to Bailey through her dinner.
“Yeah, gonna grow big and strong eating like this. Nothing will stand in your way, eh?”
The smile on the face of the demon was one the angel hadn't seen in a long while either. Not since returning from…well.
“Shall I order a takeaway? There's that new Thai place just down the street.”
“Yeah, sure, whatever you want.” Crowley agreed, his tone absent minded. In the past, Aziraphale would've sighed, perhaps dramatically. But Bailey was right to garner the attention. After all, how foolish would it be to be jealous of a child.
Aziraphale picked up the phone and began to dial.